A Game of Horns: A Red Unicorn Anthology

by Gregory D. Little

  “You did wonderful,” Nora exclaimed. “I knew you could.”

  He cupped her face in his hand. She looked so much like her mother. On nights when he missed his beloved Ellen the most, Nora would remind him of younger days when Ellen still walked beside him. Now he stood on the verge of lifting Nora into the ranks of the Valkyrie. No greater honor could be attained by a maiden of the village and, if he succeeded, she in turn could guarantee his place in Odin’s hall.

  “We’re on our way, my dear,” he laughed, catching her in a tight embrace.

  His glory was short-lived. Arnlaugr’s roll of the bones had earned him the next choice, and he shouted his decision with meaty arms thrown into the air. “Solo long-boat rowing!”

  Ragnar groaned. His days of wielding any oar besides the paddle he used to stir his tanning vats were long gone. Worse, he dare not sit down and risk the solution he had so carefully applied to his pants. So as they all prepared to board the waiting long boats on the north end of the harbor, he focused on the next phase of his strange and unusual plan. It used to hurt to think crafty thoughts, but what else was an aging man to do while younger men went to war?

  While the others chanted battle cries and leaped aboard their boats with favorite oars in hand, Ragnar limped aboard his boat with a small iron brazier of hot coals. While younger men raced back and forth across their boats, paddling with all their might, Ragnar allowed the current to drift his boat slowly toward the finish line on the far side of the harbor. He spent the tedious half hour carefully roasting half a dozen fine apples.

  Eventually they sent a small rowboat to tow him in. He was met with jeers and laughter by men who had respected him only an hour ago. He ignored them all and limped through the crowd, leading the way slowly up the bank to the waiting Valkyrie.

  “May I offer a gift to your magnificent steed?” he asked, gesturing with his burden of apples. They filled the air with a wonderful aroma. He tried not to look anxious as Olga studied him and his gift. He needed her to say yes, but couldn’t give away the reason why.

  “You may,” she said finally.

  He had been afraid for a moment that she would claim the apples for herself. As a girl she had always loved apple pie.

  Despite rising calls from the other contestants to make his choice known, Ragnar approached the immense unicorn and bowed stiff muscles before its crimson bulk. “Will you accept this simple gift?”

  Again it inclined its head toward him. This time it touched his shoulder with its horn. He gasped as every happy memory he’d ever had flashed through his mind. Images of battles won and glorious victories made up part of the flood, but fewer than he would have expected. He was surprised to note the majority of his happiest moments were quiet ones with his Ellen or Nora, teaching his children or telling stories around the fire.

  He blinked as the rush of memories faded. Already the apples were gone, and the eight-legged unicorn had lifted its head away.

  “Make your choice known,” the Valkyrie ordered.

  He hesitated and a hush fell over the crowd. This was the critical moment of his plan, but he still found it difficult to speak it aloud. Finally he took a deep breath and made his choice.

  “Bareback unicorn riding.”

  A universal gasp rippled through the contestants, the maidens, and the gathered villagers. Even the Valkyrie looked startled, showing more emotion than she had all morning. He doubted anyone had ever dared make such a choice.

  Ragnar turned toward the towering unicorn and added, “If you consent, of course.”

  It huffed a breath over him, smelling of polar ice. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn for a moment it looked amused.

  The Valkyrie didn’t. She approached until they stood nose to nose. He hadn’t realized Olga had grown quite so tall. Her eyes flashed and he felt real danger in her presence for the first time. He forced himself to hold his ground.

  “This is unusual,” she said finally. “And likely to prove painful for you. Nevertheless, I grant your request.”

  When she turned to remove the complex saddle strapped to the unicorn’s back, he helped undo some of the buckles between the second and third sets of legs. That gave him the chance to slide his hands across both sides of the unicorn’s torso, rubbing in some of the clear liquid held in his secret pocket.

  “Show us how it’s done, Ragnar,” Ref-Nose laughed, having regained some of his equilibrium during the long-boat row.

  “I chose,” Ragnar said. “And I go last. You go first.”

  Ref-Nose was still drunk enough that he accepted the challenge.

  The lingering effects of his drunkenness probably helped ease the pain of a broken ankle and cracked ribs when the unicorn bucked him over the great hall.

  The others fared no better. Each one leaped astride the unicorn from a short stepladder, shouted their readiness, and was just as quickly launched soaring into the air.

  “Did you want us all to end up as crippled as you, old man?” Volund Smidkelson demanded as his young wife tended his bruised knee.

  “You’re never too old to learn something new,” Ragnar retorted as he prepared to climb up the stepladder. He paused, rubbing his hands across his pants to ease his aching leg—and to apply the last coat of his special solution.

  He couldn’t quite manage to mount the magnificent animal on his own, so Nora helped him into position. That elicited more jeers from the injured contestants, but the presence of young Alf cowed the villagers from joining in and insulting Nora by association. Ragnar paid them no heed, shifting back and forth to settle into position and to allow the special coating on his pants to bond with the solution he had applied to the unicorn’s flanks.

  As a tanner, he knew glues and solvents and had spent the last long winter working out this special formula. This was his life’s greatest work, his last chance to reach Valhalla. This was his moment.

  Nora shared a knowing smile with him, kissed his cheek, and retreated.

  He gripped the unicorn’s flowing mane and raised his other fist high. “I am ready.”

  The unicorn hesitated, and that alone guaranteed he’d win the contest, as it allowed him to stay upon its back a critical second longer. Then the weight of thanks it owed him for the carrots and apples was spent and the unicorn erupted underneath him just as it had with the others. The speed of its bucking movement snapped Ragnar’s neck back, straining muscles. The world lurched around him, and his teeth clacked together. His free hand waved wildly over his head, and he felt a wrenching pain in his legs.

  If he hadn’t been so used to dealing with aching muscles and unexpected pains, he might have been undone. The world righted itself, and he realized he was still seated astride the mighty unicorn. He tried to hide his surprise and his groans, instead soaking in the looks of astonishment of everyone present, including the Valkyrie.

  The unicorn glanced over its shoulder, and its glorious eyes widened to see him still sitting there.

  It no longer looked amused.

  It bucked and jumped and twisted and reared, crossing the entire central square in its wild antics, sending villagers fleeing for safety. Its golden horn blazed with anger as it strove to dislodge him. It snorted and orange flames flickered out its nostrils. Its anger smelled of charnel pits and the wild freedom of berserker madness.

  The wild gyrations twisted Ragnar into painful knots. His neck burned, and every muscle in his body felt strained. The repeated crashing against the unicorn’s back sent searing agony coursing down his legs, worse than the time Ref-Nose’s father had kicked him in the sweets. He screamed with fear and agony, but closed his eyes and hung on with all his strength, drawing upon the indomitable will that had seen him through battles that had claimed the lives of many chosen men.

  Then the wild bucking stopped. The Valkyrie stood at the head of her steed, a calming hand on its glittering horn. Wonderstruck villagers peeked out from behind nearby buildings, only daring to come out when it appeared the danger was past.<
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  “I have never seen such a feat,” the Valkyrie said. “Even among my sisters. You are indeed blessed of Odin this day!”

  Villagers gathered around, cheering Ragnar’s name, and he basked in the glory of the moment. Not for years upon years had he felt such universal respect, enjoyed such honor.

  Nora rushed up to help him dismount. Disguising her movements as helping to ease his aching muscles, she rubbed the solvent on his legs that would release him from his mount. Before allowing her to pull him from the unicorn’s back, where he would surely collapse, he had to make his final choice.

  Ragnar looked out over the crowd of cheering villagers, gloried in the respect shining in the Valkyrie’s eyes. This was a fitting end to an honorable life. His own daughter would soon become a daughter of the sky, ready to welcome him to Valhalla’s halls as a chosen one.

  He turned to the beautiful Valkyrie. Her father had won eternal glory this same way. Ragnar wanted to share this moment, to help the others understand what old Gaukr had achieved.

  “Olga,” he cried to the Valkyrie. “Tell me, how is your father?”

  The cheering subsided as everyone leaned in, eager to hear.

  “I have no father,” the Valkyrie said, no emotion on her face.

  “The man who was once your father, Olga Gaukrsdottir,” Ragnar repeated. “He who won you this great honor in your youth and who you led to Odin’s halls months ago!”

  “You are mistaken,” Olga said, her golden eyes unblinking. “That name no longer belongs to me, and the man you speak of is no einharjer. He was not worthy.”

  The silence deepened as those words drove levity from every heart. Ragnar leaned forward, his limbs quivering with pain and horror. “But he was your father. You must have chosen him.”

  “He died in his sleep,” she said coldly. “He was an old man. Odin needs great warriors at his table, not cripples.”

  The truth struck Ragnar like a thrown axe, and he swayed where he sat. Gaukr had often spoken of his beloved Olga, of his pride in her choosing, of the honor he expected her to pay him in return. Only in quiet moments had he ever admitted to Ragnar how much he had missed her.

  Ragnar glanced at his own beloved Nora. This was the moment, the moment the two of them had worked toward in secret for the past year. All he had to do was choose the final contest, the one he knew he could win. He could secure for her the greatest honor any maiden could enjoy.

  He glanced to where Alf waited expectantly with the rest of the villagers, then at Nora again. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes shining with joy at his victory. His heart should be singing with her, but it felt cold in his chest. Every ache, every pain he’d endured to reach this moment dragged against his will. He’d suffered so much. He clutched the sweaty mane of the majestic unicorn. Eternity rested in his palms.

  For the first time, he understood the price.

  He made his choice.

  After Horik won the final challenge and the clan celebrated the choosing of his lovely Unfrin Horiksdottir, Ragnar limped home, every muscle complaining about the abuse. He might never recover from today’s contest.

  Nora walked on one side of him, Alf on the other, supporting him like he was his own father. Nora kept glancing back at the celebration. He could see she yearned to stay, to bask in the glory Unfrin enjoyed, the glory that should have been hers.

  “Oh, Father,” she finally said with a sigh. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be, my dear,” he said, hugging her tighter.

  “But you worked so hard for this,” she protested. “All of your dreams are lost.”

  “No, dear one,” he said. “Today I was truly blessed by Odin. He granted me a glimpse through his all-seeing eye, and I saw truth for the first time.”

  “What truth?” she asked, turning to face him.

  He kissed her cheek. “It is one you will see for yourself - in time. I promise you.”

  After they eased him into his favorite chair by the fire, he placed Nora’s hand in Alf’s. “Now go. You children enjoy the party.”

  They left together hand in hand.

  Ragnar stared into the fire, his thoughts no longer on the fleeting glory of the battlefield, but on a different kind of glory. Of Ellen and Nora, of his children and grandchildren to be. He closed his eyes, content.

  About the Author

  Frank Morin loves good stories in every form. When not writing or trying to keep up with his active family, he’s often found hiking, camping, SCUBA diving, or enjoying other outdoor activities. For updates on writing, including his popular YA fantasy novel, Set in Stone, visit: www.frankmorin.org

  Queen of the Hidden Way

  Mary Pletsch

  “I want you,” the Pharaoh proclaimed, “to bring me a karkadann. Alive.”

  The entire court’s attention fell on Wepwawet, the captain of the guard, who was on his knees before the Pharaoh.

  Anpu, all of fourteen years old, knew this moment was an opportunity. She noted who among the court appeared scandalized, who nodded in approval, and who had been awed by the Pharaoh’s audacity.

  Only her cousin Kau seemed unsurprised by the proclamation. Anpu had not realized the Pharaoh shared confidences with Kau. A knowing smile curved Kau’s handsome lips as he gestured to the foreign magicians, who, as of late, were his constant companions. He turned his gaze to Anpu, and his smile broadened. Ashamed at being caught staring, Anpu hurriedly looked back toward the center of the drama.

  Wepwawet kept his features impassive as stone. He, like Anpu, knew a death sentence when he heard one. The new Pharaoh, Anpu’s great-uncle Akhteset, clearly wanted to rid himself of everyone who had been loyal to his predecessor—Nitocris, Anpu’s mother.

  “Yes, my Pharaoh,” Wepwawet said, bowing his head to the inevitable.

  Anpu hated Akhteset, but she had to admire his cunning. It had been barely a month since Nitocris’s untimely death, and Akhteset’s hold on power was not yet consolidated. He would lose support if he were seen to slaughter Wepwawet without cause, but it would be another thing entirely if the captain lost his life trying to capture one of the lethal beasts known as the lords of the desert. Wepwawet would be eliminated, and Akhteset’s hands would remain unsullied.

  Anpu’s mother had taught her to recognize and interpret the webs of intrigue that infested the royal court. Though the land of Kumat had prospered under Pharaoh Nitocris, some of the old priests and advisors had mumbled to themselves that, as the God of the Sun was a man, so too should be the Pharaoh, His avatar among the people. Akhteset had claimed the cobra which had killed the Pharaoh and her consort had been sent to their bedchamber by the gods to restore the natural order of things.

  Anpu did not agree. She had encountered cobras many times in the desert as she played far beyond the shadows of the city walls. The holy snakes, though deadly, preferred to be left alone. More tellingly, the cobra had no sooner killed the Pharaoh and her consort than it had slithered its way towards Anpu’s chamber. She had no doubt that it would have bitten her too had not Wepwawet and his blade intervened. She was convinced the snake had been charmed by sorcery and brought to the palace.

  When Wepwawet was dead, who would protect the rightful ruler of Kumat, the child who was the greatest challenger to Akhteset’s rule? Anpu was smart enough to know that she was running out of time, but her stomach sank as she examined the members of the court again. She was reluctant to trust any of them. Even those who were not fond of Akhteset might prefer themselves, or their candidates of choice, above a second female pharaoh who was still but a child.

  If she were wise, perhaps she would accept her cousin Kau’s offer to marry.

  Kau had been busy the past month, insinuating himself into the favor of the merchants’ guilds. Akhteset was known as a military campaigner, and much of the standing army was on his side, but the wealthy merchants had powerful mercenaries of their own. If she married Kau, she would exalt his power base above Akhteset’s, legitimize his claim
on the throne—and give up her own title as Pharaoh forever.

  No. Anpu would not surrender her own power solely to avenge herself on Akhteset. That retribution, however well deserved, would come at too high a price.

  Anpu had only one chance. The myths suggested the mighty karkadann might deign to lie down in the lap of an innocent maiden. Anpu was not certain if that innocence was an inexperience of body or a purity of spirit, but Wepwawet, old soldier that he was, was neither innocent nor maiden. If Anpu wished to save his life, to rescue her faithful defender and in so doing, save herself, it was up to her to find a karkadann first.

  O O O

  For most of her life, Anpu had dressed in commoners’ clothing and walked unknown among the people. At first, Wepwawet had worn similar clothes and taken her to the temple or the market. Later, she had traveled on her own beyond the city walls. Her father had worried, but her mother insisted that a future Pharaoh needed to learn independence, self-reliance, and the ability to weigh risk. Anpu had met, and learned to love, the people she had been destined to rule.

  Now Anpu was grateful that she knew how to slip out of the holy city through the palace drains. As she traveled from the stone sewers into the natural caverns that stretched westward toward the City of the Dead, Anpu wondered if perhaps she ought not return home again. Having transformed into the aspect of a commoner, she could shed her former identity as easily as a cobra sheds its skin.

  But it was one thing to hide beneath a dusty cloak for a time, and quite another to live in its shadow. Anpu was not truly a street child. She did not know how to find food, where to sleep, or who, in the bazaar and the alleyways, might do a young girl harm. Yet she knew all too well that the palace was no safer. Sooner or later she would find another cobra in her bedroom, or an asp in her bath. Without Wepwawet, there would be no one to rescue her.

  If she could only see Wepwawet safely through this coming day, then together, they could come up with a plan to flee. But first, Anpu had to find a domesticated karkadann, and quickly.