by J. M. Stengl
They could see nothing through the ferns, so Tob was obliged to redirect them more than once. But at last Ellie saw a gleam of white hide ahead, and there the unicorn lay beneath the ferns, flat out on its side. At first, hearing another deep moan, she thought it was wounded or dying, but then its entire body strained, one hind leg lifting with the effort. She noted the bulging side, the rippling muscles, and knew in a flash.
The unicorn was giving birth.
The unicorn lifted her head. Great dark eyes regarded Ellie with deep suspicion and a hint of entreaty. “You poor dear,” Ellie murmured, her soothing magic flowing over the laboring beast. “How long has this been going on? I know about birthing, and I carry with me an herbal spray that will help you to relax and concentrate. Will you allow me to help you?”
Sighing out a groan, the unicorn lowered her head and pawed the air with one front hoof. Ellie dropped on her knees at the creature’s side, disregarding the spiraled horn so near, and dug through her pack for the right bottle. Then she sprayed her herbal potion in the air above the mother’s head and continued to spray over the pearly body and legs. To her relief, the unicorn visibly relaxed and at the next contraction was ready to push.
Ellie encouraged and sweet-talked and soothed by turns, oblivious to the passage of time. The incongruity of watching this powerful legendary being suffer the throes of labor brought a sense of unreality to the entire scene. She didn’t notice when Omar came or went. She didn’t notice her damp knees from kneeling in the rain-soaked moss and ferns. She scarcely noticed the fading light.
At last the mother unicorn gave one final great push, and her baby slid into the world. Ellie quickly cleared the tiny nostrils and watched as the newborn began to twitch and struggle. While the mother recovered her strength, the baby flailed, thrashed, flung itself about, and finally scrambled to its feet.
“A little boy,” Ellie told the mother. She had never heard the correct terminology for unicorns. Was the baby a colt or a buck kid? She saw similarities in him to horses and goats. Dainty cloven hooves and a delicate bearded chin—goat. Large, dark eyes, the fuzzy mane and tail—horse. But no ordinary animal shared this creature’s pearlescent hide and ineffable grace, or the tiny nub of horn in the middle of its forehead.
The mother lifted her head and rolled upright, her sharp horn passing uncomfortably close to Ellie’s face. She muttered sweet nothings to her baby and licked his coat clean.
Ellie rose and moved away, giving the little family space. Only then did she realize that twilight was fading into night. Stars dotted the open circle of sky above their fern glade, and brightness over one of the surrounding mountains revealed that the moon would soon rise. Soon the unicorn was on her feet and the baby nursed happily, his tail flicking.
When the mother looked directly at Ellie, she felt gratitude wash over her, as if the beast had spoken. Warmth and happiness filled her heart, and when Omar appeared beside her, she slipped her hand into his.
He gave it a gentle squeeze, but his voice in her ear sounded urgent: “Can they move soon, do you think? We’re right next to the bridle trail and the cross-country course. We need to hide them somewhere. Just minutes ago I saw torches or lanterns about half a mile down the trail, near where we saw the unicorn the other day.”
“The baby isn’t yet strong enough to walk far.”
“Might she allow me to carry it?”
Ellie pondered the idea, but she was too tired to think clearly. Omar’s presence seemed protection enough. “Couldn’t we just stay here?” she asked. “Wouldn’t we be safe enough if the unicorns were to lie down again?”
“Maybe,” Omar said softly, his breath brushing her ear. “You were amazing, may I say.”
Heedless in her post-baby euphoria, Ellie leaned her head on his shoulder. “I didn’t realize how terrified I actually was. I think it’s hitting me now.” He smelled and felt so good that she deliberately blocked out the rest of the world . . . until she realized that the hard lump on his side was a holstered pistol and the gravity of their situation loomed large again. “Where is Tob?” she asked.
Omar stood very still, as if afraid to move. “He disappeared as soon as we got here.”
The unicorn suddenly lifted her head, her rounded ears flicking forward. She was silvery in the starlight, clearly visible against the forest trees. Omar released Ellie’s hand and moved toward the trail. “Can you convince her to lie down?” he asked, his voice low and tense.
“I’ll try.” Quickly, quietly, she approached the mother. “You need to lie down and . . . and try not to glow. Some bad men are hunting you. We came to warn you. If you lie down, they might pass by without seeing you.”
After a moment’s consideration, the unicorn stepped away from her nursing baby, folded her legs, and lowered her body onto the dead leaves beneath a thick patch of ferns. Her baby staggered over to bunt his nose against her, tried to frisk, and fell over. He lay there, his belly full, his eyes drifting shut, while his mother gently licked him. Even as the moon slid above the mountaintop, sending silvery light into the clearing, Ellie was pleasantly surprised to observe that the unicorns were difficult to see. The sleeping baby glowed softly, but his mother surrounded him with her body so that little light escaped.
After arranging a few fronds to conceal them even more, Ellie returned to where she’d last seen Omar. At first she thought he had left them, but then he beckoned and she saw him crouched at the foot of a large tree on a rise overlooking the trail. Ellie crouched beside him, clutching her pack.
They heard a horse whinny and a man shout. Close. Too close. Ellie grasped Omar’s arm. His muscles were tight; he was ready to spring. The pistol was in his hand. She let go, realizing he didn’t need distraction. A gun fired nearby, and someone shouted. Omar pushed Ellie to the ground and shielded her body with his. Lights flickered through the brush, more guns fired, and several voices began to shout. Ellie and Omar lay flat in the wet leaf litter.
Then a terrible noise seemed to stop her heart, an unearthly roar that shook the earth beneath her. Men and horses screamed in terror, guns fired, and hoofbeats pounded the ground. Ellie breathed in the peaty smell of moss and earth, and she felt Omar’s heartbeat against her shoulder. Not until the gunfire began had she realized how close the hunters were to their hiding place. Was the riding trail that near?
She knew the source of that roar: The Gamekeeper had responded to her message more quickly than she’d imagined possible. Perhaps he had still lingered near the resort when she sent it. Who could know? But he had come through for them tonight.
One glance over her shoulder toward the unicorns, and Ellie scrambled into motion. The mother still crouched over her baby, but her ears were flat back, and her horn and eyes glowed red. Ellie pulled out her spray and again filled the glade with the aroma of flowering clover and grasses.
“You needn’t fear,” she said softly. “The Gamekeeper is an enchanted beast who protects all magical creatures. He will chase away the men who wished to harm you. And if you are willing, he will take you to a place where many of your kind live in peace and safety. I understand your fear—he frightened me too when I first met him. But now I know he is good and kind. If you doubt me, ask the brownies who live and work at Faraway Castle. Or the lake monster.”
The unicorn’s horn and eyes darkened and disappeared in the night. Ellie again felt trust flow toward her. The sensation was strange and gratifying. All was quiet behind her, so she dared to ask, “Once we know the bad men are gone, will you come with us to the resort? We will shelter you there in secret until the Gamekeeper can transport you to the refuge.”
Sensing the creature’s uncertainty, she added, “The Gamekeeper will not take you to the refuge against your will. But I am certain you and your little one will be safe with him. Far safer than you can be anywhere else in these mountains.”
Again Ellie sensed the unicorn’s thoughts. “You wish to wait until morning? Um, let me speak to my companion.”
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nbsp; She shuffled back to where she had left Omar, but he was not there. “Omar?” she inquired softly, trying not to panic.
“Here.” He spoke aloud from a short distance away. He sounded calm, so she pushed through the underbrush and walked down the slope to the bridle path. The Gamekeeper was nowhere in sight, but another man stood with Omar. “Briar’s horse bolted along with the others,” Omar explained.
“My mistake,” Briar said. “I dismounted to try to distract Prince Maximilian just before the Gamekeeper spoke his piece.”
“Did you see him?” Omar asked.
“The Gamekeeper? No. It’s a good thing he came when he did. I delayed and muddled things up for as long as I could, the dwarfs dawdled, and the brownies at the stable were as inefficient as a brownie can bear to be, but ol’ Prince Max headed for this place like a compass arrow finds the North Pole. First one, then all four mighty hunters started shooting at patches of moonlight. I’m just glad you’re safe. Omar says you found the unicorn and she’s a new mother.”
“Yes, and they are both doing well,” Ellie answered. “Thank you for delaying the hunting party for us.”
“Still, if not for the Gamekeeper, we would be in a bad way right now,” Omar admitted. “Where is he? Might he be wounded?”
“I never saw him at all, but then I ducked for cover after that first shot. I’ll scout around if you like. I don’t like the idea of leaving a wounded compatriot behind.” Briar sounded as calm and cheerful as ever.
“But what do we do now?” Ellie asked. “The unicorn asked if we might rest until dawn. It won’t be a comfortable night, but we should do well enough.”
“I’m afraid those men will come back to learn what terrified their horses,” Briar said. “They are—or rather, Prince Max is—far more determined than I’d expected. Though what glory is to be had from killing a unicorn, I can’t imagine.”
“The horn is valuable,” Omar added, “but none of those lords and princes should be lacking in wealth. One way or another, we must get the unicorns away from this place.”
“Yes, the horn of a unicorn is valuable for its magical power.” Briar spoke with his usual nonchalance, but Ellie sensed something disturbing behind his words. His following statement confirmed this: “Dangerous power, in the wrong hands.”
Just as she opened her mouth to inquire further, she heard a familiar trill, wings fluttered, and something landed on her shoulder. “Well, hello!” The nightjar had never before perched on her. “Just a moment, gentlemen.”
She stepped aside, carefully pulled the little tube from the bird’s leg, and opened it. A voice emerged for her ears only: “Take the unicorn to the maternity barn tonight; the road there and the barn are safe. I will come Saturday at dawn to collect her and the baby, if she wishes. And if you wish, you may accompany them.”
Oh. Oh my! Ellie thought. The thought of traveling to the Gamekeeper’s home was both exciting and intimidating. She knew with her head and heart that he was good and would not harm her, but her gut nevertheless clenched at the prospect.
After brief thought, she sent a return message. “Will comply. Thank you for stepping in. Mother and baby are well.” Even as she spoke, she wondered how the Gamekeeper knew about the baby unicorn. Had he been observing them from cover? He might be watching even now. It was not a comfortable thought.
She slipped the tube in place and said, “Please take this to the Gamekeeper.” The bird gave an answering chirp and took off, instantly disappearing in the darkness.
She turned to the men, their faces like mottled gray smudges in the shadows and starlight. “The Gamekeeper says we should take the unicorns to the maternity barn tonight—the road and barn are well guarded. I don’t know, but I suspect he is still here.”
“Unnerving yet reassuring,” Briar remarked. “Let’s get moving.”
Omar carried the sleeping baby unicorn, walking with its mother at his elbow where she could easily touch her young one with her nose. Ellie walked at the unicorn’s other side, her pack feeling heavier than it had earlier in the day, and Briar took up the rear. Walking on the bridle path through forest and pastures, they made quick progress. The night was quiet, clear, and starry. Ellie saw a few falling stars but didn’t dare wish on one.
As they approached the stables, she sensed something new: an invisible magic fence allowed them to pass through to the barns—the Gamekeeper’s work, no doubt.
Mira and Howurl awaited them in the maternity barn, eager to direct them to a stall piled with fresh golden straw. Miria almost smiled, she was so happy. “We will feed and protect the unicorns, you may be sure. I am so pleased that Tob kept his promise! What a fine day this has been.”
Ellie felt the unicorn summon her and hurried into the stall to calm the mother’s fears. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here. You must have sensed the magical barrier we passed? The Gamekeeper placed it around the barns so that no enemy may enter. The brownies are your friends, and if the horses are unfriendly, they are also unable to escape their stalls. In a few days the Gamekeeper will bring a special cart to carry you and your baby to the sanctuary on the far side of the mountain, and there you may live among many of your kind and raise your young one in safety, if you choose to remain. Tomorrow, if I’m able to do so safely, I’ll come and visit you here.” By the time Ellie finished speaking, both unicorns were asleep, glowing softly and snuggled together.
Omar leaned against the stall door, watching Ellie soothe the beautiful magical creatures. He found it difficult to believe that he had witnessed the birth of a unicorn. More fantastic still, Ellie had held his hand and rested her head on his shoulder.
That moment was past, and Ellie once more seemed distant and unreachable, but his hope remained. It was time to open his heart and place his future on the line. In four days he had to choose a wife. He would choose no one but Ellie, whether she would have him or not.
Ellie rose, straightened, and stretched her back with a soft groan. She turned, saw Omar, and smiled. But an instant later the smile faded. He opened the stall door for her, and once she stepped through, he took her pack and offered his arm. She hesitated but slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you, Omar, for everything.”
“I’ll walk you back to your cottage,” he said. “And then you must get some sleep. It has been an eventful week.”
“That’s for sure.”
They walked in silence while Omar worked up courage. “Ellie, I need to ask you something,” he finally said. She was silent, so he continued as they walked. “The Summer Ball will take place in four days. I would love to be your escort. Will you come? Please?”
A pause. “But staff members don’t attend the ball, Omar. You know that.”
“I do, but it’s a masked ball, so who will know? Other people invite outside guests for the occasion; why can’t I? You can easily blend in with the other ladies.”
“I can’t come, Omar.”
He had expected her to require convincing. “I know that a gown might be an issue, but we can find one to fit you, I’m sure.”
“I don’t have a gown, but that isn’t the reason I won’t go, Omar.”
He rushed on. “My parents told me that I must choose a wife and propose to her at the ball, and they will announce my betrothal that night. I love my parents, but I can never accept an arranged marriage to a woman I don’t love. I would rather be cut off without a penny. Perhaps I could get a position here at the resort—I’m experienced at bookkeeping and finance, and I understand the business—”
“No.” She stopped on the walkway before her cottage and faced him. The moon and stars cast silvery light upon her sober face; and when a light breeze blew, the pine boughs overhead sprinkled them both with needles. Ellie impatiently brushed one from her face. “Omar, listen to me: I am a working girl, a magic-creature controller, not a noblewoman or princess. I could never fit into your world, and I do not intend to allow any prince, no matter how handsome or sincere, to break my heart.”
Omar swallowed hard, his heart thudding painfully. “Ellie, I . . .”
“I know that you think you care for me, Omar, but you love your family so much. Think of the heartbreak to your parents and your darling little brothers and sisters! You could never . . . I could never do that to them! Besides, Madame would never hire you at the castle and insult your parents.”
“Then I will get a position somewhere else—” He reached toward her, but she pushed his hands away and took a step back.
“You hardly know me, and you cannot destroy your own future for my sake.” Her voice cracked, and he saw tears spill down her cheeks. Again he tried to speak, but she rushed on. “I care too much for you to let you ruin your life for a summer romance, Omar. You are the most wonderful man I have ever, ever known, and I want you to live the life you deserve.” Her voice caught on a sob as she backed away from him. “Please forget me and move on.”
Just as she opened her door, he stepped forward, holding out her pack. As she lowered her eyes and took it, he said, “Never, Ellie.” He spoke quietly, but he knew she heard him. “There will never be anyone but you.”
Morning arrived far too early. Ellie lay in bed, remembering everything, dreading the day ahead. A familiar sound greeted her ears: the squeak of cinder sprites. A moment passed before she remembered she hadn’t trapped any sprites since the Gamekeeper’s visit. Her eyes popped open, possibilities rushing through her mind. Yesterday’s rain would have driven sprites all over the resort into cover; she was likely to receive a message, or several, from the castle at any time. But the sprites she heard were inside her cottage; she was sure of it.
And they sounded hungry.
She popped out of bed, dressed in a clean coverall, and slipped on her glass shoes and her gloves. There should be fresh kale and collard greens in her refrigerator, and the Gamekeeper had left a supply of empty cages. With spray bottle in hand, she slipped out of her bedroom and surveyed the small living area. Two sprites scampered into view, one chasing the other, oblivious to her presence. They were not much larger than her fist and quick on their little feet. One was solid red, the other white with black ears, nose, and feet, and their hair was long and straight, parted down the middle and flowing behind them. They looked like animated wigs but for their spiraled horns. In her three years of working with cinder sprites, Ellie had only ever seen one quite like them.
