The Secret Of The Unicorn Queen - Into The Dream

by Suzanne Weyn

  Kara laughed bitterly. "Don't fool yourself, girl. Dynasian made all kinds of sordid alliances before we undid him. And Campora is still a city of immeasurable value. There are many who would like to control it."

  Sheila breathed deeply to calm her racing heart. She didn't like the sound of Kara's words. "Kara, would you mind if I left now and went to the palace?" Sheila asked apologetically. "I want to see Laric. I'm not sure why. I just have this feel­ing."

  "I'll take you," Kara offered. "Laric won't be able to tell you any more than I just did, but when news or Illyria herself arrives, he will be the first to know. Your intimations of trou­ble dismay me. They are too much like my own.”

  Sheila hugged Lianne. "I'll be back. You'll probably see me tomorrow.”

  Kara and Sheila left the cozy house and headed out through the courtyard. They walked in silence for ten minutes until they came to a steep road, which Sheila instantly rec­ognized as the way to the palace.

  "What happened to all the gold statues and the jeweled picture frames?" she asked Kara as a smiling guard waved them through the front gate.

  "Laric and Illyria sold most of them to rebuild the city square and the west side after they were destroyed by the fire."

  "That stuff was gross anyway,” Sheila commented, re­membering the ornate gold statues of fat men and women, usually shown stuffing themselves at feasts.

  Kara stopped and looked at Sheila, puzzled. "I mean they were ugly," Sheila explained, remembering that her use of the word gross was unknown in Kara's language.

  "Gross," Kara repeated. "Yes, they were that. Whatever precious metals weren't sold were melted down for weapons. The rest of the valuables were stored away to be sold in the future so there would be no need to tax the people."

  "The Camporans must be so happy," said Sheila.

  "We are indeed!" Kara told her proudly. Kara and Sheila continued to make their way through the palace, which was now a simpler, brighter, and more pleasant place than the one Sheila remembered. Guards smiled and waved at Kara as she passed. "Is Laric about this evening?" Kara called to one of them.

  "I saw him enter the meeting hall,'' the guard answered.

  The two women continued down the high, wide hallway until they stopped in front of a wooden door. Kara rapped on it. "Enter," a deep and familiar voice commanded.

  Stepping inside, they saw Prince Laric sitting at a large round table intently studying a big book, which was opened in front of him. He looked up, his dark eyes unfocused, as though his thoughts were still back with his book. In an in­stant, though, he had recognized Sheila and was on his feet. His handsome face broke into the warm smile that made it handsomer still. "What wizard has conjured you up?" he asked happily, coming toward her, his powerful arms spread wide in welcome.

  Sheila smiled back as the tall man embraced her.

  "She's come because she's worried," Kara told him.

  "Worried?" Lane asked, stepping back to look at Sheila. He pulled a chair out from the table and gestured for her to sit. "What could be worrying my brave little warrior? Tell me, please."

  "I'm worried about Morning Star. I think she needs me. And now Kara says Illyria and the others are with the uni­corns. So maybe they're in trouble, too."

  Laric's face remained somber. "And what is the basis for this worry'?''

  "My dreams. I keep dreaming that Morning Star is in dan­ger,'' Sheila answered.

  As she described her troubling visions of Morning Star leaping off the cliff and disappearing before her eyes, Laric pressed his fingers together and held them against his lips. "Your dreams," he said thoughtfully. Sheila knew he wouldn't laugh or dismiss her fears as nonsense. In this land, dreams and magic were taken seriously. Laric himself was a mage, a practitioner of good magic.

  "Illyria is late coming back," Kara reminded him needlessly.

  Laric smiled. "That does not worry me," he said. "Illyria's life on the road has made her as wild as the unicorns she now frees. The city is much too confining for her. She is often restless. I'm sure she is simply taking advantage of her time in the wilderness."

  ''It is possible, but I don't like it,'' Kara insisted.

  "You, of all people, should have faith in Illyria's abilities," Laric replied. "Illyria and her women can outfight and outwit the best of men."

  "What you say is true," Kara conceded, "but something is distressing you. I saw it in your face when we entered."

  Laric walked back to the book he had been studying, which was opened to a large and very detailed map. "It may be noth­ing, nothing at all," he explained. "This evening two men arrived, ragged wanderers. They said they had information about Emperor Ankzar of Queelotoo—that he is planning to move against Campora soon."

  "I have not heard of this Ankzar," Kara said, her hazel eyes shifting as she searched her memory.

  "He is an ally and neighbor of King Kumuru's," Laric told her. Kumuru had been allied with Dynasian as well. It was he Illyria's band had once stopped from shipping a whole herd of unicorns to Kumuru to be sacrificed to the Dark Gods Kumuru worshipped. Kara and Sheila both knew that any friend of Kumuru's was bound to be bad news as well.

  "The men may have simply been looking for payment," Laric continued. "Still, I have been studying this book of maps, trying to anticipate what Ankzar's approach would be, should the rumor prove true."

  Sheila glanced down at the table. She knew from experi­ence that the maps in this world often turned out to be dis­mayingly inaccurate. They were derived from guesses and approximations. A place that appeared on a map to be a day's ride away often turned out to take two days—or ten. But this map was different. It was drawn with a strong, confident hand and appeared more like a modem map than any she had seen. "This is a beautiful thing. Where did it come from?" she asked Laric.

  "It's an eagle's-eye view of the world," he said proudly. "Even though we are free of Mardock's curse and can live as humans, my men and I were left with the ability to shift into eagle form at will. Of course, the map is but a product of mem­ory, and memory can have its flaws. Still, viewing the land from the air gives us a great advantage. We have covered vast ter­ritories and set it all down here. I believe these are the most accurate maps ever to have existed."

  Sheila went to her pack, which she had set down near the table, and took out the atlas. She opened it to a two-page map marked "The Ancient World." She wasn't sure if the geog­raphy of this land was exactly the same as that of her own. Some things were the same, but then others were not. It seemed to be a world that was roughly parallel to ancient Earth, not a carbon copy of it.

  She placed her map down above Laric's map. The land masses did seem to be remarkably similar. "These are also drawn from aerial photos," she explained. "Maybe they'll help you.

  Laric and Kara looked at Sheila with questioning eyes. "Do you have men and women who can fly in your world?" Laric asked.

  Sheila laughed. "No, these were taken from planes. Maybe they even use satellites now, I'm not sure." She realized they were still looking at her blankly. "A satellite is this spaceship kind of thing, only nobody's on it and…” Her voice trailed off as Sheila realized she was getting her friends even more confused. "I'll explain it some other time."

  Studying the maps, Sheila saw that Campora appeared to be just below Earth's Rome. "Where is this Ankzar guy!" she asked Laric. When he pointed on his map to Queelotoo, Sheila referred back to her own map. "Gosh, that looks kind of like Egypt in my world. He's pretty far away."

  "It is quite distant indeed," Laric agreed, shutting his big book. "May I keep your maps?" he asked. "I would love to compare them with my own and make adjustments. Your saddled-lights are most remarkable."

  Now it was Sheila's turn to look puzzled. "Oh, you mean satellites!" she said at last. "But you know, you're right. Sometimes you can see them shining in the sky like manmade stars. I like that. Anyway, sure, you can keep the book."

  Suddenly Sheila felt a yawn rising up inside her. Not want­ing to be r
ude, she stifled it, causing her nostrils to flare slightly. Laric laid his large hand on her shoulder. "You've had a long journey and must be exhausted. It is rime we all retire. I'm sure the morrow will bring news of Illyria, and perhaps the morning sun will shed some light on the question of Ankzar."

  Laric asked Kara to show Sheila to one of the upper chambers and bade the women good night. "I will be back tomor­row afternoon to give archery lessons,” Kara told Sheila at the door of an empty bedchamber. "I will see you then. Sleep well."

  Sheila sat down on the soft, velvet-covered bed. The room was bathed in the soft light of two torches hanging from the wall. The flames were shielded by finely carved metallic cas­ings that sent pinpoints of light dancing over the room.

  Across from the bed was a stand with a large clay basin and a pitcher of cool water. Sheila splashed some on her face and then took off her outer clothes: She had barely crawled under the soft covers when she found herself drifting off to sleep—and into the world of dreams.

  “No, no dream," she mumbled in her sleep, fighting her way back to wakefulness.

  Sheila's eyes snapped open. When she realized she was safe in Laric's chamber, she rolled over, stretched, and was instantly asleep. Just before dawn she opened her eyes once, thinking she was home, but seeing the scattered lights of Laric's torches, she rolled to her other side and closed them again.

  That's when the nightmare came. It was a new dream, even more terrible than the one that had brought her back to the land of the unicorns. It began with a lovely mournful song. A song that filled the air and seemed to call her. . .

  4

  Into The Wilderness

  Sheila found herself walking down a grassy hill. The song was all around her, high and plaintive, yet she could see no singer. Below her was a herd of over two hundred unicorns. They stood, whinnying and scared, in a grove ringed by tall, leafy trees.

  Suddenly a strange glow appeared in the sky above them. The panicked unicorns beat the ground with their hoofs and turned frantically in circles, but they couldn't find their way out of the ring of trees. Sheila ran down toward the herd. She knew that if she could lead one unicorn back up the slope, the others would follow to safety

  As she made her way to the middle of the herd, the fright­ened animals kicked at the air around her. She had to be careful of their sharp horns as they dipped their heads and then reared back.

  The unicorns' panic was contagious. Sheila's heart began to race. The lights were now flowing all around, overhead and near the ground. Steadying her nerves, she reached out to grab the mane of the nearest unicorn. Just as her hand touched it, the animal dropped to its knees and refused to get up. She reached for another, and it, too, crashed to the ground.

  The lights now joined together and filled the sky. The song in the air had become maddeningly loud, almost drowning out the unicorns' terrified cries.

  "Run!” Sheila screamed to the unicorns. "Up that hill! There is danger here! Terrible danger-“

  Sheila bolted upright in bed, the word danger still on her lips. The first blue light of a misty dawn was filtering through the palace window. She heard the gentle call of two birds outside, but there was another sound as well. She cocked her head and listened, straining to make it out.

  It was the song, the one in her dream, now playing softly, barely audible. But it was definitely there.

  Pushing back the velvet cover, she swung her long legs over the side of the bed. Was she still dreaming? She didn't think so. The room was exactly as she remembered, though in the morning light she first noticed the rich tapestry of the multicolored curtains and the fine artwork that decorated the bowl and pitcher on the stand. It was the same room. The torches still burned on the wall. The stone floor felt solid under her bare feet. She was surely awake—and yet the song played on.

  Sheila stood and picked her clothes up off the floor. Slowly she dressed, still hearing the haunting tune. It seemed to be coming from the hall outside. She opened the door. Now it seemed to be coming from down the corridor.

  Sheila picked up her bags and followed the music down the hall. Whenever she thought she was near its source, the sound moved farther on, drawing her along, almost hypnoti­cally.

  Sheila went by guards who looked up sleepily and nodded. She was hardly aware of them as she passed through the palace and out its front gate.

  She walked the early morning streets of Campora, taking little notice of the merchants who were opening their shops.

  She only knew she had to find the source of the song. Something inside her was sure that when she reached the singer, many of her questions would be answered.

  Away from Campora, she wandered down through the lush valley outside the city, and into the dense forest. As Sheila walked, her mind was curiously blank, filled only with the music she followed. She walked and walked until the sun was a red ball hanging low in the sky and her feet and legs ached. She pulled a carrot from her backpack and ate it. Then she lay down at the root of a giant, gnarled tree, and using her pack as a pillow, she slept.

  Sheila awoke after only a few hours and continued walking in the direction of the song. The strong white light of the full moon shone through the trees, illuminating the forest with its ghostly shimmer.

  Sheila went deeper and deeper into the forest, which grew ever more dense, the moonlight breaking through now in only small and infrequent patches of light. She trailed the song along dark, muddy paths, ripping apart tangles of undergrowth and slipping on the mossy beds of shallow streams. Sweat drenched her T-shirt and plastered her damp hair to her forehead.

  Finally her legs would move no further. Like the unicorns in her dream, Sheila fell to her knees. She stretched out on the soft cool ground, half awake and half asleep. The muscles of her calves twitched, and her arms felt leaden from carrying her bags.

  Her mind wandered now, as she drifted in and out of sleep. Imagining that her mother was waking her for school, Sheila opened her eyes only to see the moonlit leaves fluttering over­head. She rolled over and dreamed she saw Laric and his men soaring through the sky as eagles, the way she had seen them so many times before. Again she awakened to see nothing but the rose-colored light of dawn streaking across the forest floor and falling on her lavender backpack a few feet away.

  This time her eyes stayed open. Though half asleep, she knew something had changed. Her stomach was growling with hunger. She rolled onto her back and listened to it tumble for half a minute before she realized what was different, The only other sound to be heard was the gentle swoosh of the breeze through the leaves. The song was gone.

  Lifting herself up onto one elbow, Sheila looked around. The forest seemed still enough. She had found no magical singer, no endangered unicorns. Was she under some evil spell or was she simply losing her mind?

  Sheila rubbed her eyes and sat up. She had no idea where she was. Without the song to guide her, she had no direction. Fighting terror, she tried to clear her mind and decide what to do next. She was momentarily distracted by the sight of a large black beetle crawling across her backpack. Absently she picked up a long branch and reached over to sweep the hideous bug off her pack.

  Zwappp!! The branch was suddenly alive with a sizzling green current. Sheila hurled the burning branch to the ground, but not before it sent an electrifying shock up her arm.

  "Ahhhh," she moaned, rubbing her arm as the tingle of the shock turned into a throbbing ache. She looked down at the branch. It lay blackened on the ground—and next to it swirled the bottom of an even blacker robe.

  "Mar .." She tried to speak the awful name of the man who stood there in his inky robes. It was the cruel wizard Mardock, his long oily hair oozing around his shoulders, his yellowish eyes boring into her mockingly.

  "Impossible, I know," he said in the deep smooth voice that had always made Sheila imagine what it must be like to drown in quicksand. "You thought good Prince Laric had destroyed me, didn't you? Thought he had changed me into a beetle forever. Well, just as he b
roke my spell, I was able to break his. Now I, too, can shift from human to inhuman shape at will. A most useful byproduct of that particular spell."

  Mardock chuckled at his own cleverness. Sheila had jumped to her feet and now trembled before him. She tried to remember the training she had received from Illyria. Banish fear, think only of surviving for the next minute and then the next until alt the minutes are one and you are victorious.

  "I sensed your return to this world almost immediately," Mardock gloated, approaching Sheila as she backed away from him. "I'd have thought a sorceress such as yourself would cloak her return more effectively. But I forget—you are but an ap­prentice sorceress. Or was it that you wished for me to find you?"

  "No, I wasn't looking for you," Sheila assured him, Mardock's words reminded her that he was convinced she, too, possessed great magic. That's why he hated her so much. But he also regarded her with a certain amount of respect and was greedy to know the secrets of her "magic" backpack. Because the things she carried in it were unfamiliar to him, he assumed they must have magical powers.

  As if reading her thoughts, Mardock darted his eyes to the lavender pack which lay on the ground between them, In an instant the wizard was lunging for the prize, but Sheila had anticipated his move and threw herself on top of it first. She grabbed the pack and rolled away with it.

  Infuriated, Mardock raised his sharp nails into the air and sent jagged lines of sickening green current toward Sheila, She scrambled up and leapt behind a tree, but Mardock felled it with one concentrated zap.

  Noticing that her pack had come undone, Sheila reached in and pulled out the first thing that came to hand: her thick book of news pictures. With all her strength, she hurled the book at Mardock.

  It was a hit! The wizard staggered back, holding his forehead. This was it—her chance to run! Sheila whirred around, looking for an escape route.

  But Mardock recovered quickly. As Sheila began running, he used his magic to throw a small invisible boulder in her path. The next thing Sheila knew, she had stumbled over nothing and was falling face first to the ground. She pushed up on her skinned arms to find that the contents of her back­pack had been tossed onto the ground in front of her. Horrified, she saw the Tracker sitting out in clear sight.