It had to be the Clan of the Eagle, who after all had the most to gain from such a trick. Ry would bet his life on it.
Sure enough, a moment later Warrior came charging up from a different direction. Ry asked Dagda to increase his speed just enough to stay a few lengths in front of the spotted stallion. He didn’t want Brec too close to his back.
Most of the other horses seemed to have been taken out of the race by the Ror q’Para’s dirty trick, although in the far distance behind him he could see a few, mostly visible as a cloud of dust. Dagda left the desert and swept into the lush, blue grasslands, a thin line of trees to their right, a vast sweep of azure plains to their left.
Ry could sense Dagda’s joy at being in a more familiar landscape. The thought home ran through his mind, along with the vision of his mares and foals. Not now, Ry thought. Later.
And it was the truth. Later he would return the animal to his home, just as Sahra wanted. He couldn’t imagine keeping a stallion like this one confined in a stable for the rest of his days. It would be a crime against nature. He supposed his clansmen would be infuriated by his decision to let the animal go, but he was determined to do the right thing for Dagda.
Ahead of him he saw an odd spot in the grass, a place where the grass had been disturbed in some fashion. He communicated his concern to the unicorn, and Dagda swerved to the left, missing the spot entirely. As they passed it, Ry glanced down at it and saw that it was what he had suspected--a hunting trap such as some of the more primitive clans used. It was a pit that had been dug, then concealed, to capture unwary animals. Odds were there were large, deadly stakes at the bottom. He shuddered to think of Dagda falling into it.
A hunting trap had no business being on this course, either, and hadn’t been there yesterday. The Clan of the Eagle was clearly determined to win, regardless of the cost. He wasn’t surprised to hear hoofbeats behind him. Warrior had avoided the trap, probably because his rider had had advance warning it was there. There were only two venta left in the race, and Dagda could outrace Warrior over that distance. Ry was certain of it. He asked Dagda to increase his speed, and felt the animal’s muscles flex in response. They drew away from Warrior quickly. And then he heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon being fired.
A fiery pain burned into his arm, and he looked over at the line of trees, shocked. The obstacles hadn’t surprised him greatly, but this did. The race was an important Clan tradition, and to actually fire on a racer was unheard of. It was the ultimate in dishonorable behavior.
The first shot had luckily only grazed his arm, although he felt blood oozing onto his robes, but the next shot might kill him or his mount. He urged Dagda to full velocity. The unicorn responded with a burst of blazing speed that was simply unbelievable. No other animal in the world could have hoped to match it. He heard a few more gunshots, but at the pace they were going, they made a difficult target, and no bullets struck him or Dagda. And then they were away from the trees, heading back into the red sands of the desert, and streaking for the finish line.
Ahead of them he could see the cheering crowds, their variously colored robes mingling into one great mass. That was, he realized, what Sahra wanted--to see people from every clan mix together as freely as the A’tril did. He could see it, almost like a vision of what the future could be.
And then he realized it was not his own vision, but Sahra’s.
As the unicorn thundered over the finish line, far ahead of his nearest competitor, Ry heard the cheers of the crowd die away into puzzled murmurs, and he realized all of them were seeing what he was seeing--a rainbow of hues, mingling together until it was impossible to tell where one clan ended and another began.
He saw unity, and knew that everyone in the crowd saw what he did.
And then, with a sickening lurch, he saw the way his people had lived for centuries, the ways that clung to bloodshed as the only way to solve any dispute, and he saw everyone he loved perishing, his father’s enormous castle crumbling around them, their lands stripped of crops and turning back into desert. His darkest fears, his worst nightmares, his greatest doubts jumbled together in his mind.
Judging from the cries of horror in the crowd, he was not alone in the dark storm of visions he was experiencing. People were sobbing, burying their faces in their hands, and holding their children close. Ry himself could scarcely breathe for the crushing horror of the visions he saw. The only unaffected creature seemed to be Dagda, who stood motionless, head up and ears pricked, gazing at Sahra as she stared back fixedly.
Through the painful visions, Ry realized that she was using the bond she had with the unicorn to magnify her own psychic powers, so as to show the vast crowd the truth about their ways. The truth about what would happen if the clan system didn’t change.
It was an incredible display of mental power, yet through the vision he wondered if she could perform such a feat without destroying herself in the process. But he realized almost instantly that she wasn’t sure of that herself.
The way she’d begged him to make her his wife in truth burned in his memory. Sahra had no idea if she would be able to survive the psychic storm she had unleashed. But she was willing to sacrifice herself if necessary.
If she believed that strongly that the ways of the clans were wrong, then he, as her husband, would follow her lead.
Fighting against the visions that still rioted in his mind, he lifted his voice.
* * * *
With the storm raging around and through her, Sahra was scarcely aware of the horrified cries of the crowd, although she could sense their panic and distress clearly enough. But when Ry spoke, she had no difficulty hearing him. His strong, deep voice seemed to cut through the power of the storm. She felt the panic abate a bit and knew the crowd heard him too.
"This is what our ways lead to," he shouted, raising his voice as if he were yelling over a gale. In truth, the psychic storm was silent, yet it filled the crowd’s minds to the point that they were virtually deafened.
Still atop the unicorn’s back, visible to everyone in the crowd, Ry lifted his arm, and his robes fell back, revealing a gunshot wound on his bicep. Blood streamed from it, as crimson as his robes, and Sahra gasped in horror, almost losing the focus she needed. She managed to control her reaction, realizing that he was not badly hurt.
"The bloodshed never stops," Ry thundered. "By pitting clan against clan, we make it impossible ever to live in peace. There must be a better way."
In the crowd, Sahra saw a swirl of multicolored robes, and a group of A’tril stepped forward, led by Ja’rah. "There is a better way," Ja’rah answered, raising his voice to be heard over the silent tempest. "You ubans and r’ubans who grow weary of bloodshed, follow us."
Ja’rah turned away, and Ry followed him, still on Dagda. "Follow us!" he shouted.
Follow us. Sahra felt tears well in her eyes, tears that had nothing to do with the painful effort of maintaining the psychic storm. Ry had thrown in his lot with the A’tril, just as clearly as if he’d knelt on the sand of Balmairl and pledged himself to their cause.
Having just won the race, and having retained his status as the r’uban of the First Among Clans, he had a great deal of prestige, and the other leaders were more likely to follow him than an anonymous group of men and women. Indeed, she saw, the crowd was parting as uban after uban followed in the wake of the unicorn.
It still remained for the A’tril council to convince the ubans that unifying the clans was necessary, and all her efforts might go for naught in the end. And yet she believed in the legend of the storm, believed with every fiber of her being. The unification must come to pass, or the clans would perish.
She watched Ry and Dagda lead the line of ubans away, toward the waiting council, and knew her work was done. She let her focus fade, and the tempest abated.
And then she collapsed to the ground.
Chapter Eleven
Sahra awakened in the round stone chamber she shared with Ry. As her eyes flicker
ed open, she saw Ry sitting in a chair next to the bed. He smiled at her.
"I was beginning to think you’d never awaken."
She blinked sleepily at the golden light streaming in through the window. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"Two days. I was worried, but the council and Ja’rah assured me that it was to be expected, given your expenditure of psychic energy."
"Aye," she admitted, remembering the power she’d focused. It was a little shocking to realize she’d imposed her vision on such a vast crowd of people. But of course, without Dagda to focus her energy, she could not have achieved it. "It was exhausting."
He smiled, leaned forward, and brushed an errant lock of hair out of her face. "You did well."
"As did you," she said, remembering the way he’d led the ubans to the council. "Did the clans--?"
"They are still discussing the matter," he interrupted. "Likely they will discuss the matter at great length for a very long time. People do not change easily, Sahra, even if you show them every disaster that will surely befall them. Child though you are, you must realize that."
"I am not a ch--" She broke off, realizing from the glint in his eye that he was teasing her. "You are right, of course," she admitted instead. "People do not change readily."
"And yet some changes have already taken place," Ry said. "The Ror q’Trall has given up its status as First Among Clans."
Her eyes went wide. "Truly?"
"Truly. No longer will one clan be lifted above the others. From this point forward, we are all equal. And that includes the A’tril."
Her mouth dropped open. "The clans accepted the A’tril? Did you convince them to do that?"
He grinned, a little wryly. "It took little convincing on my part," he admitted, "once the clans saw how numerous the A’tril were, and how wealthy. It is extremely unlikely that any clan could stand against you in warfare. Even Brec Para, r’uban of Ror q’Para, saw the wisdom in capitulation. Although he will yet answer for his crimes if I have anything to say about it."
"We do not engage in warfare," she said haughtily.
His wicked grin flashed again. "The clans don’t know that."
Against her will, she chuckled. "You are a reprehensible man." Her smile faded as she looked up at him. "And what happens now?"
"The ubans and council talk. And talk. And talk some more."
"I meant…." Her voice faded into nothing.
"What happens with us?"
She nodded.
He wrapped his big, strong hand around hers. "What do you want to happen, Sahra?"
"I do not know," she said softly. "I love my people, Ry, and cannot imagine a life without them. And yet … I cannot imagine leaving you, either."
A brilliant smile broke across his face. "Interesting," he said. "I had come to much the same conclusion. And I think I have a solution. You and I will be ambassadors between the clans and the A’tril. We will work for peace, which will enable us to live among the A’tril some of the time, and here in Castle q’Trall the rest of the time. Does that suit you?"
She smiled. "Our children will grow up knowing both worlds, then? I like that idea."
His eyes widened with a look almost of panic. "Children? Is it not a trifle early to be thinking of children?"
She placed a hand on her flat stomach and turned her thoughts inward for a moment, searching. "No," she said at last. "It’s not."
"You are not telling me that…."
She smiled. "Twins. A boy and a girl."
"Twins." Ry swallowed hard. "You may have brought the rest of the world peace," he said at last, "but I doubt very much we will have any peace in our household for a very long time."
"Not peace, perhaps." She looked up into his eyes and smiled. "But we will have a great deal of happiness."
Epilogue
Dagda snorted, shook his head, and pushed his muzzle hard against Ry’s shoulder. Fortunately it was still fall, and his antler had not grown back. Otherwise the affectionate gesture might have spitted Ry through the heart.
"It’s time, old friend," Ry said, rubbing the unicorn’s silken neck. He spoke more out of habit than anything else, since the animal could sense the general meaning of his thoughts through the bond they shared. "I am grateful for everything you’ve done for my people."
The stallion snorted again.
"You’ve brought us the hope of peace," Ry said softly. "The promise of unity. And you brought me a woman like no other. For that, I thank you."
The stallion didn’t appear inclined to move from his side, so Ry stepped back a small distance. Dagda took a step forward, as if to follow him, but a sudden cool gust of breeze blew across the hillside, swirling brown leaves into the air. Dagda lifted his head, his nostrils flaring, and turned toward the valley. Below, against a backdrop of azure grass, Ry could see the herd of mares, and he knew from Dagda’s sudden excitement that the stallion was now aware of them, too.
"Go on home," he said gently.
The stallion hesitated for a moment longer, then spun, reared, and took off down the hillside at a gallop. Ry watched him go, listened to the thundering hoofbeats for a moment, then turned.
It was time for him to return to his own home. He had been gone from his wife’s side for a day, and it would take several days to return on foot. Already he was eager to see her again. He and Sahra resided both in the Castle q’Trall and in the A’tril encampment, depending on where they were needed, and he had come to realize it didn’t really matter where they lived. Stones and tents and tapestries no longer mattered to him, and one residence was as good as another.
Wherever Sahra was, that was his home.
THE END
Unicorn Quest Page 8
