The Secret Of The Unicorn Queen - Sun Blind

by Unknown

  The unicorn looked at her for a moment, brought his head back, and remained exactly where he was. When she tried again to turn him, he walked forward deeper into the trees. Sheila felt her chest tighten with panic.

  Darian leaned forward. "Keep going."

  This time she brought Wildwing to a dead stop. "Da­rian, the land can't possibly be like this. Not when it was so dry just a little ways back."

  ''I know.''

  Sheila's voice rose higher than she meant it to. "I thought you were the one who didn't approve of riding straight into traps. What do you think we're doing now?"

  Darian pressed his heels into Wildwing, and the stal­lion moved forward. Above them the thick cover of trees completely blocked sun and sky.

  Sheila tried to keep her voice light but couldn't stop it from shaking. "This is worse than riding at night. I can't see at all."

  "But Wildwing can.” Darian gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. "We've got to trust him."

  Sheila wound her fingers even more tightly through the black mane. She was holding on so hard she was sure her fingers would be cramped forever

  "There!" Darian's arm shot forward, pointing to a small point of red light blazing in the darkness.

  The unicorn stopped, and Sheila felt him tense beneath her.

  Ahead of them the point of light became larger—a small red orb spinning furiously in the darkness.

  Oh, Dr. Reit Sheila thought, you never told me about anything like this.

  As they watched the light spin closer Sheila could see that it was not just a circle of red light, but red light racing in a geometric sunlike pattern. It was the krino.

  Darian must have recognized it at the same moment Sheila did. She heard the metallic scrape of his sword being drawn.

  "So you want to finish what you started last night?" There was a dry, hoarse laugh. Then the light spun out into the long lines of a man's form, and Valan, Nemor's mage, stood before them. His voice was mocking as he addressed Darian. “It is useless, you know. You've left Quiet Storm to die unprotected, and all for nothing. This time I will not be gentle with you," he promised with an evil laugh. "This time you will suffer more than a broken arm.”

  Sheila didn't know where she found the courage to speak, but when she did she was amazed to discover her voice no longer shook. "What do you want from us?"

  Thin streaks of red light danced around Valan's form. Dr. Reit had often said that everyone gave off a certain level of energy. He even claimed his cat Einstein gave off the most calming energy he had ever encountered. It oc­curred to Sheila that she was watching Valan's energy, and it was anything but calming.

  "I think," Valan said, "that the question should be turned around. After all, it was you who came to me this time.''

  "We don't want anything from you," Sheila replied.

  "That's not true," Darian said quietly. "I did seek you. I want to know where my sister is, And I want your word that you won't use your power against her. We'll match Nemor, force against force, but no magic."

  Valan laughed again, thin lines of red light darting into the treetops. Sheila was surprised nothing caught fire, "You know what this entails, young one," he taunted. "If you want my help, you'll have to pay.”

  Darian's breath caught, almost as if he was choking back a sob. "You want the unicorn."

  "That's part of it, but not all. You can't buy magic that cheaply."

  Sheila turned to see Darian sheathing his sword. "No!" she cried.

  "Be quiet!" he snapped. To Valan he called, "The girl didn't know anything about this. Let her go and you can have your price."

  The mage considered the proposition, the light about him growing more and more frantic. He's calling up more energy, Sheila realized. He's getting ready to cast a spell.

  "The girl goes," he agreed at last. "She will leave you here. And she'll not get over it easily."

  "I'm not going anywhere," Sheila told them both.

  Darian's hand closed over her arm, gripping it so tightly it hurt. "You're going to get off Wildwing and walk out of here," he whispered fiercely. "Walk back the way we came in and don't look back."

  "Stop giving me orders!" Sheila hissed. She turned away from him, concentrating instead on Valan. What was he going to do to Darian and Wildwing? And what made Darian think he would keep his word once they had paid his price? He would probably kill Wildwing and Da­rian, and then he would finish off Illyria and the riders. There had to be a way to fight the mage.

  "Sheila." Darian's voice held a dangerous note of warning. If she hadn't been so terrified of Valan, it might have scared her. He swore furiously under his breath. "Do as I tell you. Now!"

  And then Sheila had an idea. It might not work at all, but it was worth trying. "All right," she said to Darian. "I'll go, but since I may not see you again-" Her voice broke. She couldn't help it. If she was wrong, she never would see him again. "I want to give you something." She slipped the pack off her back and unzipped it.

  The mage's voice cut through the darkness. "You've wasted too much time, girl. I can no longer let you go.”

  Three things happened at once. The first was not un­expected: Darian drew his sword. The second was a little more unusual: The streaks of light that flickered around Valan drew together in the burning red configuration of the krino and shot toward Sheila and Darian. And the third thing that happened was somewhere between a mir­acle and sheer luck: Sheila grabbed the mirror from her pack and held it up like a shield to the burning red light that was streaking toward them. There was a flash as the light met the minor, bounced off it, and ricocheted back­ward. A bloodcurdling cry split the air, and then everything went dark.

  For a long moment no one moved. Even the unicorn barely breathed.

  "The krino's gone," Darian said at last. "And so is Valan . . . isn't he?"

  Wildwing answered by snorting his agreement and walking past the spot where the mage had stood.

  Still shaken, Sheila didn't answer. But the sweet, de­caying scent was gone; and she knew that they were safe. At least for now.

  10

  Lightning

  Wildwing stepped calmly out of the tree-covered valley where Sheila and Darian had confronted Valan. Beyond the tree line the sun was shining as brightly as ever. Sheila was actually happy to see the scorched landscape again.

  She turned in the saddle. Behind her Darian sat look­ing unusually pale.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  He nodded his head.

  "How about your arm?"

  "I'm fine." He smiled, but his eyes were dark and se­rious. "You defeated a mage today. And you saved my life. Again. I'm indebted to you, Sheila McCarthy." He ran his hand lightly through her hair. "I think you must be a sorceress after all.''

  You know I'm not," Sheila said quietly. She still felt shaken by the encounter. She would probably have night­mares about Valan for the rest of her life. And something he had said was bothering her.

  Darian made a clicking sound with his tongue, and the unicorn began to move forward at a gentle walk. Sheila turned around quickly to grab a handful of mane.

  "Darian, do you remember what Valan said about Quiet Storm?"

  His reply was barely audible. "That we left him to die unprotected."

  "We've got to go back to the camp," Sheila said. "Maybe it's not too late."

  "And maybe it is." Darian's voice was drained of all emotion. "We've got to find the Sareen encampment and warn Illyria."

  "No!" Sheila brought Wildwing to a halt. She turned to face Darian, who was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. "It's not that I don't care about Illyria," she explained, "but Illyria's got six riders with her and is very capable of taking care of herself."

  Darian stared at her, unbelieving. "In case you don't remember," he said, "Illyria and that overwhelming company of six riders are about to be betrayed."

  "I know that. But Darian, I can't stand the thought of Quiet Storm dying because we abandoned him. We've got to at le
ast try and save him. Then we can ride to Odelia."

  Darian's eyes were hard with barely controlled anger, and Sheila knew that she was about to be overruled. And with a sense of desperation, she also knew that this time Darian was wrong and she couldn't let that happen.

  "You just told me you were indebted to me," she said quickly. "If you really mean that, then I'm calling in the debt."

  ''What?"

  "I saved your life," she said. "Twice. But we'll call it even if you just do this one thing for me—we go back to the camp now

  For a long moment Darian stared at her. Sheila knew she was asking him to make an impossible choice. She was pitting his love for his sister against the warriors' unbreak­able code of honor, And she was counting on the fact that like Illyria and the other riders, he would not be able to go back on his word, not when he had given it in thanks for his life.

  "All right," he said at last. "We go back to attend to Quiet Storm, but if anything happens to Illyria-''

  Sheila turned before he could complete the threat, and dug her heels into Wildwing's side. She would worry about the consequences of her decision later. Right now the only thing that mattered was getting to Quiet Storm.

  * * *

  Dusk was falling when Wildwing reached the mouth of the canyon. As fast as the stallion was, this time he hadn't been fast enough for Sheila She leapt from the unicorn's back and raced into the riders' camp.

  "He's still alive!” she called to Darian. She thought she would collapse from relief.

  The silver unicorn stood alone at the far end of the canyon. He was no longer fighting his invisible opponent, but standing quietly with an odd, expectant air. He's probably waiting for Illyra, Sheila thought.

  "He looks better, don't you think?" she asked Darian, who had walked Wildwing into the canyon, cooling him down. "He's much calmer. Maybe Valan was just bluffing. Or maybe we broke his spell back there."

  "Stay here," Darian said. Slowly he approached the unicorn. "Quiet Storm," he called softly. "Will you let an old friend say hello?"

  The unicorn watched warily as the boy advanced.

  Darian had gotten within about ten yards of him when Quiet Storm began to rake the air with his horn. "Shhh," the boy said in a soothing voice. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you. I only want to take a look at you.”

  Quiet Storm began to buck with a frenzy, and Darian quickly retreated. He turned to Sheila with a look of res­ignation. "I guess that just because Valan's gone doesn't mean his magic is."

  "Do you think Quiet Storm is worse?"

  "I don't know. The only thing that's certain is that he's still bound by magic." Darian put a hand on Sheila's shoulder. "Come on, let's get something to eat, and then we can figure out a way to feed Quiet Storm without getting too close."

  The camp seemed unnaturally quiet as they worked to build a fire and heat the broth that Pelu had left for Da­rian. The night had fallen quickly, and Quiet Storm stood in a wash of moonlight, nearly motionless. Did that mean the spell was winning, since the unicorn no longer had the strength to fight it?

  Sheila felt helpless. If she had really destroyed Valan, why was his spell still controlling the unicorn? Was the mage right—was Quiet Storm really dying? And if he was, what could Sheila do to stop it? She wished Illyria and Pelu were with them, and she was beginning to wish that she had gone to warn them.

  "Here." Darian handed her a bowl of steaming broth,

  She set it down without bothering to taste it. For the first time it occurred to Sheila that the others might not come back. Not ever. Stop it! she told herself fiercely. Thinking like that won't help.

  Darian wasn't eating, either. He used his spoon to dig a shallow hole in the ground. "I wonder where they are now, he said. "If what your Dr. Reit told us was right, then they're probably safe until they actually attack the fortress. After all, Nemor won t ruin his own trap. The only problem is we don't know when the attack will take place."

  "Maybe Illyria's-" began Sheila.

  At the mention of Illyria's name Quiet Storm whin­nied loudly and began to pace anxiously.

  "He's worried, too,” Darian said grimly. Then his head came up sharply and he pointed to Quiet Storm in amaze­ment.

  The unicorn had reared up on his two hind legs and now stood as if suspended in the air, his head cocked toward the back of the canyon. With a loud snort, Quiet Storm brought his forelegs down. He gave a last powerful buck and then tore toward the back of the canyon.

  "What's he doing?" Sheila said, "There's only rock back there."

  Darian didn't answer. He took off after the unicorn, Sheila was right behind him. Maybe the stallion really was going crazy. She had heard of “loco" horses, who tried to buck their way through walls. Was Quiet Storm going to try to tear through a wall of solid rock?

  Ahead of her she heard Darian cry out. Quiet Storm had broken into a wild, headlong gallop. And each time his hoofs struck the ground, a blazing white light flashed up.

  Moonlight met the unicorn's own lightning as the an­imal reached the end of the canyon. For a second the stallion paused, and the sight made Sheila dizzy with won­der. Quiet Storm stood bathed in light, his silver horn gleaming. Suddenly there was a tremendous flash as a bolt of lightning ripped into the hard rock wall. Sheila coveted her ears to keep from being deafened by the terrific thun­derclap that followed. Then it was quiet again. Quiet Storm gave a triumphant whinny as he galloped through a narrow pass, freshly cut into the canyon wall.

  In unspoken agreement Sheila and Darian went after the unicorn despite the fact that they had no hope of keeping up with him. Illyria had once said that Quiet Storm could outrun the wind if he wanted to, and it wasn't an idle boast. Still, they couldn't just watch him disappear.

  The pass through the canyon led to a narrow shelf of land that wound up behind the canyon walls. It meant running nearly straight uphill, and both Sheila and Darian were gasping for breath by the time they reached the top.

  They stood for a minute, trying to control their breath­ing. Sheila peered around. It looked like they had come out of the canyon and entered—an olive grove? A full moon illuminated the landscape. The land was flat as far as she could see. There were no houses or buildings, just thick, gnarled olive trees, growing in what might have a long time ago been rows. The trees themselves were spaced far apart with only a sparse covering of grass on the ground. There was no sign of Quiet Storm, but if he was still in the grove, sooner or later they would be able to see him.

  Darian caught his breath first. "I don't even know what direction to go in," he admitted.

  "Where are we?" Sheila asked. "I didn't see this grove today, or when I went into Ansar."

  "No, I didn't, either. But look at the size of these trees—they're ancient. All of them. They've been here forever."

  Something about Darian's tone made Sheila shiver. Stop imagining things, she told herself. You've seen old trees before. How about the redwoods in California? But it wasn't just the trees. It was the feeling that they had stumbled into a place that had been unchanged for thousands of years, unchanged for a reason.

  A sudden flash of white light blazed through the grove.

  "There he is!" Darian cried, and they were off again.

  They ran for what seemed hours, and only rarely did they catch a glimpse of the silver unicorn. What they saw was the lightning he struck from the ground. It was almost as if Quiet Storm wanted them to follow him through the ancient grove, the grove that never seemed to end.

  At last there came a point when Sheila and Darian thought they had lost Quiet Storm, It had been a long time since they had seen either the unicorn or the lightning.

  Sheila slowed down and bent over, hands on knees, tak­ing in deep gulps of the night air. "What are we chasing anyway?" she asked when her heart had slowed to an almost normal pace. "I mean, I'm beginning to think Quiet Storm isn't here at all." She looked up at Darian, unable to hide the fear in her eyes. "What if we've been chasing some sort of ill
usion. You know this grove is . . . is…”

  "Magic," he said, letting the word hang between them. "I'm not sure whose or what kind, but you're right. It's a place of power."

  "No," Sheila was almost pleading, "not after what happened with Valan," She stood up and wrapped her arms around her, as if for comfort. "Not again."

  "I don't think it's quite the same," Darian said in a thoughtful tone.

  A thin mist was rising from the ground. Quiet Storm was gone, and they were alone in a place that reeked of magic. The quiet was unbeatable.

  "What do we do now?" Sheila asked, not really ex­pecting an answer.

  The answer came from Quiet Storm. There was a blinding flash of light so bright that both Darian and Sheila covered their eyes. Then Quiet Storm stood before them as he had at the end of the canyon, bathed in the mingled rays of moonlight and the light he drew from the ground. The unicorn was staring intently into a pool of dark water. Then, as if suddenly aware that he had com­pany, he lifted his head and looked straight at them with a clear, regal gaze.

  "Come on." Darian took Sheila's hand. "I think he's waiting for us."

  11

  The Scrying Pool

  Slowly Sheila and Darian approached Quiet Storm. This time the unicorn showed no sign of bolting. He stood calmly, waiting for them.

  "Hey, Quiet Storm." Sheila held out her hand, but the unicorn brushed her off impatiently. He stood staring down into the pool of black water at his feet.

  The pond was small; it couldn't have been more than six feet across. The full moon was reflected neatly in its center, and the strange thing was that the mist that rose from the ground didn't touch the pond at all. Its surface was perfectly clear. There was only black water framing a glowing, silver moon.

  With a soft whinny Quiet Storm dipped his horn into the water. Sheila knew that unicorns were water con­ners—if they dipped their horns into water—even poi­soned water—it became pure at once. Did Quiet Storm want them to drink from the pond?