A Game of Horns: A Red Unicorn Anthology

by Gregory D. Little

  For the first time Bosena turned to look at us. When her eyes met Donnybrook’s, she stopped struggling. Jorjarrm let her go. She slid off his lap and walked down the steps of the dais. When she reached Donnybrook, she grabbed him by the horn and forced his face to the floor.

  “How dare you desert me!” she bellowed. Her voice echoed in the stone-roofed hall. “I would not be here if not for you!”

  “I could not help it, mistress,” Donnybrook said to her shoes. “I am sorry!”

  “A hundred demerits, for leaving me in the hands of this imbecile!”

  I giggled. I was ashamed of myself, but I giggled. She released Donnybrook and slapped me in the face. I only gazed at her. If she was the beloved of my master, Jorjarrm, she could do what she wished with me.

  “Isn’t she marvelous?” Jorjarrm said, beaming.

  Bosena spun and glared at him. “And you! What makes you think you can marry me against my will?”

  “How can you question fate?” Jorjarrm said with a shrug. “Take her away,” he ordered his guards. “This woman of Syrah addles my brain! You three, go with her! Soon, my little dumpling. Soon!”

  Bosena stormed out, the rest of us in her wake. I was very happy to accompany the Syrene addler from the room. She fascinated me, too.

  The moment we were in her quarters, which were built on an epic scale, like most of the kingdom, the lithe woman rounded upon Donnybrook again.

  “So you have returned. How will you make up for your misconduct? Desertion is punishable by death or exile!”

  “I brought these wise ones with me,” Donnybrook said, bowing his red horn before her. “They will figure out a way for us to escape.”

  “What can we do?” Bosena asked, pacing up and down. She had to hike the capacious dress up in her arms to keep from tripping on it. “Jorjarrm fears nothing.”

  “That is not true,” Buttercup said suddenly, tossing his silky white mane. “He fears dragons.”

  “How can you say that, when you see that all dragonkin are his prisoners?” Bosena asked. “I have watched him humiliate wyverns, wurms, dragons, dragonets—all scaly beasts are his toys.”

  “My companion has the right of it, my lady,” I said, nodding as the truth became evident to me. “It’s the wand that gives him control.” The greater the distance I achieved from Jorjarrm and his scepter, the clearer my mind became. I shook my head vigorously to rid myself of the effects. “It holds us in thrall.”

  “Then we must break it,” Buttercup said.

  “But how?” Bosena asked. Now that she had scolded Donnybrook, she stayed by his side with her arm over his withers and stroking his mane.

  “Do you have any power over him?” I asked. “He said that you addle his mind.”

  “Oh, that? That’s nothing.” Bosena waved a hand. “He is not used to females who defy him. His previous seven wives were cream puffs. I have no wish to become number eight. How did you get here? Do you have an escape plan?”

  I rattled my head. Her mind was so clear, it prompted me to reassert my own wits.

  “We have a means of escape,” I said. “We have an ancient device. A D-hopper.”

  “Well, use it!” Bosena said, glancing at the door. “Any minute now, the Hierarch will arrive to perform the marriage ceremony. From what the servants tell me, weddings here are bloody affairs. Jorjarrm has draped me with gems and gifted me with jewels, more than I have ever had in my life!” She gestured a table so laden with treasure that it made me long to roll upon it. “But all I want is my freedom. Let us go now.”

  I hesitated. “I don’t wish to leave him.”

  Buttercup nudged me in the ribs with his horn. The point went right between my scales.

  “Ow!”

  “We are away from him now,” my friend said. “You don’t have to pretend to be fascinated by him. It’s disgusting. Come to your senses!”

  “It’s not pretense.” I glanced toward the iron-barred door. “The wand is very powerful. It keeps me under a certain measure of control even when I am not near it. It is the way he holds my kind prisoner. I dare not move against him as long as he holds it.”

  “Well, you’re free enough of it now,” Bosena said. “Use the D-hopper, and let’s go!”

  I hesitated. “I could help us escape, here and now, but I fear for the safety of my kin. So many of these would be left in thrall to the Brother of Dragons. What about the rest of them?”

  “It’s too bad,” Donnybrook said, “but you can’t really help them. We can get away. We can’t take all of them with us in order to get them away from him.”

  I stared at him as if I had never seen a red unicorn before. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t.

  “You have a point,” I said.

  “I know,” Donnybrook said, holding his magnificent head up with pride. “It is my greatest weapon.”

  Buttercup snorted in disdain.

  “Not that one,” I said. “We can’t get them away from him.” My smile spread until every one of my splendidly sharp teeth were on display. “But we can get him away from them.”

  “How?” Buttercup demanded.

  I draped my tail companionably over Donnybrook’s shoulders. “As my red friend here suggests. But we’ll need a diversion. Let us confer.”

  O O O

  A huge musical chord rang out. We had waited in the chamber as the ladies-in-waiting kirtled up Bosena’s gown so it almost fit, then began to lade her with the gem-crusted bracelets, necklaces, anklets, and rings that Jorjarrm had given her.

  “I will need your help,” I told Buttercup. “Once I am close, I cannot act against him.”

  “I am ready,” Buttercup said. “You have set the D-hopper to the right address?”

  “I have.” I took a deep breath as the ladies stepped back from Bosena. As much as a smooth-skinned biped could, she looked beautiful. Straight-backed, she picked up her bouquet—which concealed the D-hopper—and marched grim-faced out into the hall. We followed close behind.

  It seemed as though every Monster in the kingdom had come to see the festivities. Guards had to make way for us through the throng of hairy faces and glass eyepieces. Several of the females were weeping into lace handkerchiefs at the sight of the wedding party. The room smelled overwhelmingly of their furry musk and gallons of perfume. I sneezed my way forward.

  The carpet leading up to the dais was freshly strewn with flowers. Bosena trod over them, releasing more sickly-sweet scent. She kept a grim smile pinned on her face. It looked as though our subterfuge was going to work!

  As she got close, however, a pair of guards closed in on her.

  “What is this?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Just a precaution,” Jorjarrm said, grinning down at her from his horrible throne. “Ah, what’s this?” One of the hairy guards had pulled the D-hopper from the center of the flowers and held it out to his master, who examined it. “A D-hopper! Primitive little thing. But why hide it, my love?”

  “It’s a special gift to you,” Bosena insisted. She climbed up into his lap and twined one arm around his neck. With the other, she whipped off his glasses, pressed her lips against his, and planted a hard, passionate kiss on him. His arms flailed in surprise.

  When his concentration broke, I regained enough of my own willpower to leap up the steps and seized the D-hopper from his limp fingers. Donnybrook and Buttercup bounded up beside me. Jorjarrm pushed Bosena away and stared at us

  “It’s a trap!” Jorjarrm cried, staring at us. “Guards!”

  A dozen troops thundered toward us as I bit down on the controls.

  BAMF!

  O O O

  When we could see again, we were in the middle of a wide-open, grassy plain.

  “Guards, take them!” Jorjarrm ordered, retreating within their circle.

  Bosena kicked the nearest Monster in the chest and took his sword. She backed away from her would-be husband and stood with us. The guards looked at the four of us disdainfully, and then charged. The unicorns lo
wered their heads.

  Lunge! Parry! Thrust! Retreat! Counter-parry! Advance!

  If I had any doubt that I had chosen worthy allies in this enterprise, they would have been dispelled on the spot. Though we were greatly outnumbered, Donnybrook repelled every attack that came his way, and remised with his horn, plunging it into a foot here, an arm there, earning howls from the guards upon whom he scored. Buttercup held forth brilliantly, showing hornsmanship that was a treat to watch. The Syrene warrior seemed to care little that she had no armor. She took on two of the largest Monster guards, swinging, slicing, and whirling like a one-woman army. I roared toward the guards, setting their fur and armor on fire with my modest flame and clawing at tender extremities.

  All around us, across the broad meadows, from the burned, twisted trees, and from the puffy white clouds in the blue sky, myriad dragons of every shape, size, and color began to descend. The Monsters and their lord were so distracted by us that they didn’t notice the newcomers until we were surrounded by a ring of dragons, some so large that I could have walked into their ears without ducking. The dragons seemed to sense the power contained in the wand, and they did not like it.

  One of them, a magnificent silver-scaled dragon with huge blue eyes like my own, watched for a while, then reached out a massive claw and tapped Jorjarrm on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me. Haven’t we met?”

  The lord of Monsteros spun on his heel and found himself staring upward and upward and upward to meet the giant’s eyes.

  “Uh, I don’t believe so.”

  The giant dragon crouched until his chin was resting on the ground. “Oh, I think we have. You don’t remember me? Smog, son of Fog, son of Grog? You kidnapped my baby sister, Cuprica?”

  In Dragonspeak, Cuprica was the kind of name bestowed upon a red-scaled offspring, such as a copper-colored dragon. I fancied I knew where Cuprica had ended up.

  “And what about my son, Winnower?” asked a blue-skinned matriarch with wrinkled lips around her still-sharp teeth. “We were so close, and I never hear from him, not since you lured him away.”

  “It’s been twenty years since I heard from my beloved Mamie,” a stocky bronze dragon with eight rows of terrifying white teeth said. “She would never have stayed away so long without popping back now and again for a visit. Is she even still alive? Well? What did you do with her?”

  Jorjarrm turned to me in horror. Under his fur, his face had gone ghostly pale. “This is Draco. You brought me to Draco?”

  I offered a ferocious grin. “You said you can never have too many dragons.”

  “Protect me!” Jorjarrm grabbed me by the neck and shoved me forward. He battered me on the back of the head with his control wand. I wanted to protest, but every blow drew me farther and farther into his thrall. “You will defend me, Gleep! Attack them! I order you to save me!”

  I looked up at the gigantic winged beasts that surrounded us.

  With the wand, Jorjarrm ruled my soul. For my pet, I might have lain down my life, but for this dragon-stealing Monster? I had no choice. I was under his spell. I bid a silent farewell to Skeeve. In a moment, I would die defending someone who did not deserve my sacrifice. I stepped forward, my flame pouring forth, to challenge Smog. Every eye on the plain seemed fixed upon me.

  “No!” whinnied Donnybrook.

  The red unicorn reared in the air and knocked the wand from Jorjarrm’s hand with flailing hooves. He seized it in his teeth and ran.

  “Come back here! Guards, with me!” Jorjarrm bellowed.

  He thundered after Donnybrook, his enormous feet causing the ground to shake. But the red unicorn did not go far. He turned at bay, a gleam in his bright red eyes.

  “I failed my lady once. I will not fail her again.” He dropped the wand to the ground and brought down both front hooves upon it with all his strength.

  It exploded in a ball of blue flame. Shards of it struck me in the chest like bolts of lightning.

  “No!” Jorjarrm bellowed. “If you only knew how long I labored upon that wand!”

  “Don’t worry,” Smog said, his left claw darting forward. He captured Jorjarrm and drew the struggling Monster up to his gigantic blue eye. “You will not be needing it any longer.”

  He rose onto his haunches, spread his broad silver wings, and leaped into the sky. Other dragons captured his Monstrous guards and flew off with them, too.

  “No, let me go, let me go, pleeeeeeeeease!” Jorjarrm cried.

  His voice faded into the distance. Watching him go, I felt nothing but relief. The compulsion had died with the breaking of the wand. I was free, as were all the dragons left in Monsteros. Any moment, the more sophisticated magicians among them would begin to return home to Draco. I turned to my companions.

  Lady Sir Bosena stood with her back to her unicorn’s flank, her borrowed sword out, her eyes wide in terror.

  “My lady,” I said, gently, “pray forgive the little subterfuge. You are perfectly safe here. Donnybrook has saved us all. These fine people,” I indicated the remaining dragons, “have no interest in you.”

  “Oh, my, I just remembered!” Winnower’s mother said, smacking the side of her head with her claw. “I left that sea monster only half cooked! Where is my mind?” She took off, followed by a score of smaller dragons, presumably her offspring. Others departed in her wake.

  “Donnybrook deserted me!” Bosena glared at her unicorn.

  “He fled only to get reinforcements,” Buttercup said. “Us.”

  “And in so doing, he freed not only you, but hundreds of dragons,” I added. “He is a hero. He adores you, my lady.”

  Donnybrook lowered his horn modestly. Bosena shook her head and threw her arms around his neck. I realized by her scent that she was qualified not only by courage but also by the legendary rule to have a unicorn.

  “To me she is always The Woman,” Donnybrook confessed. “Thank you for your help, honorable dragon and Unicorn of the White Company. I am sorry that I have no gold to reward you.”

  “Our fees are fixed, except where we waive them altogether,” I said, after sharing a glance with Buttercup. My white-coated friend looked happier than I had ever seen him. The martial exercise and victory had done him a world of good. “In this case, naturally, they are waived.”

  “Oh, I can pay them,” Bosena said, unhooking one of the gaudy necklaces Jorjarrm had given her. “Crom knows we don’t need much. These are worth a king’s ransom. Won’t they do?”

  “Just the one,” I said, taking it delicately. I had previously noted Donnybrook’s threadbare barding, and Bosena would have to buy all new armor. I looked around the empty field. “Now, where is that D-hopper? We have to get back to the Bazaar before Skeeve returns and finds us missing!”

  About the Author

  Jody Lynn Nye has written dozens of books and more than 120 short stories, most of them with a humorous bent. She collaborated with Robert Asprin on his famous humorous fantasy series, the Myth-Adventures of Aahz and Skeeve, and has continued it since his passing. Her latest books are Fortunes of the Imperium (Baen Books) and Wishing on a Star (Arc Manor Press). Find her on Facebook and Twitter, and on her website, www.jodylynnnye.com.

  Killing Zombies in Rural America: A Survival Guide by Doug and Cecilia

  Kristin Luna

  Lesson One: Don’t Get Bit

  “So, uh, how’s your mother doing?”

  Doug’s old but reliable Ford F-150 rolled leisurely down Range Avenue in Colby, Kansas. With the last bit of winter thawing on the ground, it looked like the people of the small town were making every excuse to get outside and also thaw their bones.

  Everybody seems pretty stiff, though, Doug thought looking at the people shambling along the sidewalks. And what’s that smell? Smells like something’s rotting.

  “Fine, I guess.” Fifteen-year-old Cecilia sat in the passenger’s seat, fiddling with her iPhone. “Why I can’t get reception? Don’t they have cell towers out here?”

  Cecilia was t
all and skinny for her age. Her soft face was pretty, just like her mother’s. Doug would’ve questioned if Cecilia was his if it hadn’t been for those big ears peeking out of her hair and the plump Polish nose that matched his own.

  “Why don’t you give that contraption a break for five minutes? Talk to your old man a while.” Doug tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  “Okay, fine.” Cecilia stuffed her phone in her coat pocket and turned in her seat, and her dark straight hair—another feature from her mother—whipped the cushion behind her. “Let’s talk about mom. She still thinks the government is trying to poison us. That weird outbreak in Kansas City on the news? The crazy flu or whatever? Must be the government. So how’s that for a mom update?”

  The attitude, unfortunately, she also got from her mother.

  Doug sighed, although he was thankful that Cecilia had finally said something during the four-and-a-half-hour drive from Lawrence. “Sure it is. It’s always the government with her. I take it you guys are still growing your own food and whatnot?”

  Doug turned the pickup truck right on College Avenue.

  “Yep, and still vegetarians, you’ll hate to know.”

  “It’s just not healthy, Ceil, I’m tellin’ ya. We’re hunters and predators. We’re meat eaters by nature.” Doug hesitated, running his hand through his light brown hair, then bringing it down to itch at his orange-brown beard. He eyed the gut that had slowly grown over the last decade. “So, uh, she still with that … guy?”

  “Oyibo.”

  “Oh-yee-boh? What kind of name is that anyway?”

  “When he was in Western Africa with the Peace Corps, the people called him Oyibo. He changed his name when he got back.”

  Probably means dumb white man, Doug thought.

  “What’s he do again? Runs a communal greenhouse or something?”

  “He prefers the term ‘urban farmer,’” Cecilia corrected.

  What a douche bag.

  “Doug, don’t judge him. You don’t even know him.”

  “Doug? And what are you talking about? I didn’t say anything!” She might be too smart for her own good.