“What about the guards?” Kyra said. “Didn’t you leave someone guarding the wall after we arrived? Did they see anyone?”
“Wolfnacht is a large town,” he replied. “And, with the festival tomorrow, we could only spare one person for the walls. Probably he’s walking some other section of the palisade.”
“So someone could have sneaked out,” Lanna pressed.
“It’s possible,” Nikolas said, shrugging. “But no one will be leaving while I’m here.” He smirked and bowed impudently.
To Stan, the smile seemed like a threat. How his brother might stop the powerful unicorn riders, Stan couldn’t imagine. Nikolas was slowing them down when every moment counted.
Stan slid from Rigel’s back and stood face to face with his brother. “They’re trying to help,” Stan said. “Don’t you understand that?”
Nikolas grinned at him. “Are you the unicorn riders’ pet now, Stan?”
“No more than you’re the pet of Berman and Mapes,” Stan shot back.
Nikolas’ right fist smashed into Konstantine’s chin.
The world exploded into a cascade of falling stars, and Stan toppled back into the snow. He landed hard on his rump. Nikolas seized Stan by the shirt and reeled back for another blow.
Before the punch fell, Kyra snagged Nikolas’ wrist. Her blue eyes stared coldly at him. He sneered at her.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave him alone and let us pass,” she said.
“So . . . that’s how it is,” Nikolas snarled.
“That’s how it is,” she replied.
Nikolas shook himself free and backed away. Stan staggered to his feet, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth.
“You can leave, if you want,” Nikolas told the group, as he pulled back one side of the gate, “but don’t expect to be let back in.” He fixed his eyes upon his younger brother. “None of you.”
“We’ll see about that when the time comes,” Volstag said. He urged Stardust through the gap and into the snowy wilderness beyond. Lanna on Helios followed, with Kyra and Stan on Rigel bringing up the rear.
Stan’s gaze lingered on the gates of Wolfnacht as he rode away.
“Worried about leaving—or about returning?” Kyra asked.
“Neither,” he replied. “I was just hoping my brother wouldn’t bother the other riders when they try to follow us.”
“Don’t worry,” Kyra said. “Santos and Apollonia can take care of themselves.”
They’d ridden several hundred yards toward the mountains now, but the darkness and the swirling snow was making it nearly impossible to see.
“Janise!” Volstag called, but the wail of the storm smothered even the sergeant’s booming voice. “Can you and Helios see anything, Lanna?”
“Not a trace,” she replied. “The snow blows away the tracks as soon as we make them. If Percy were still alive, Helios might be able to track Janise telepathically, but. . . .” She shrugged her hands helplessly.
“Fingall’s balls!” Volstag cursed. “We’ll have to split up.”
“I-is that safe?” Stan asked.
“There’s no other choice,” Volstag said. “We either find Janise quickly, or she freezes to death.”
“Dawn’s only a few hours away,” Kyra pointed out.
“It won’t come soon enough to save her,” Lanna replied. “Janise is tough, but, without Percy, she won’t last long out here.”
“Stardust and I will bull our way north, toward the pass,” Volstag said. “Lanna and Helios, head east and check the forest as far as you can. Kyra, you and Rigel circle west and then south. Lanna, have Helios tell Cherish that she and Santos should sweep the town thoroughly and then circle outside the wall, looking for any signs. We’ll join up by the main gate an hour after sunrise. If the gods are willing, we’ll have found Janise well before then.”
“Yessir,” the riders replied.
Kyra patted Rigel’s neck and turned west, while the others slogged north and east. At first, Konstantine wondered why Kyra, clearly the youngest of the group, had been given the largest area of ground to cover. It soon became apparent that Rigel was uniquely suited to the task of searching large areas.
While Stardust plowed through the snow toward the pass, and Helios lumbered a bit more swiftly to the east, Rigel vaulted to the top of the snowdrifts and sped west at an astonishing speed. The sleet pelting Stan’s face felt like bee stings, and the wind threatened to rip the breath from his lungs.
“H-how. . . ?” he managed to gasp.
Kyra laughed, an incongruous sound in the smothering, frigid grayness. “All unicorns have gifts. Rigel can run like the wind and cross any terrain as though it were open ground. Hold tight and keep your eyes open, Stan. We’ll need all six of our eyes to spot Janise in this tempest.”
Konstantine did as he was told, clinging tight to the warm, muscular girl, and scanning in all directions as they rode. The village lights behind them became pale dots and then quickly vanished in the snow and darkness.
I could be a thousand miles from home, Stan thought. And, for a moment, he wished he were a thousand miles away. How wonderful to be on some great adventure with this unicorn rider girl! How wonderful to never have to return to the bleak days and dreary nights of Wolfnacht!
The wind and stinging snow soon cured Stan of his fancies. His toes and fingers quickly began to ache with the cold. To keep his mind off his frozen digits, he asked, “How does one become a unicorn rider?”
“Some enlist,” Kyra said. “Others are conscripted. Still others, like me, are Chosen.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we seem fated to be unicorn riders,” she replied. “At some point in our lives, our mounts find us, and we never look back.”
“So, Rigel found you?”
“Yes,” the rider and her golden unicorn said in unison.
“How?”
Kyra didn’t reply.
Rigel’s deep voice broke the uncomfortable silence. “That’s a tale for another time.”
V. A Rider’s Life
“Konstantine, do you know where we are?” Kyra asked.
Stan looked around. Impending dawn had brightened the surrounding wilderness, and through the swirling flakes he saw dark, mountainous shapes ahead. “We’re nearing the western side of the valley—I think,” he said.
“We’ll stop a moment, check our bearings, and warm up, before circling south,” Kyra said. Rigel slowed and settled lightly into the snow.
“I’m plenty warm,” he remarked. The unicorn snorted and great clouds of steam rose into the snowy sky.
“Well, my limbs are stiff and cold, and I’m betting Konstantine’s are, too,” Kyra said.
“I’m fine,” Stan insisted. “I can keep going.”
Rigel snorted again.
“Take a few minutes to stretch,” Kyra told Stan. She hopped off of Rigel’s back and paced through the snow, swinging her arms vigorously.
Stan got down, nearly slipping, and did the same.
Kyra drew her sword and made a few practice cuts in the air. The weapon gleamed silver in the gray of the storm.
“Is it magical?” Stan asked, his eyes wide. His heart fluttered with the possibility.
“No,” Kyra replied. “I’m not of high enough rank for magic—nor have I won such a weapon in combat. The blade is a silver alloy, though.”
Konstantine’s stomach growled, and he wished he had brought something to eat.
“All riders carry weapons of silver and iron,” Rigel added. “In our jobs, we need such things.”
“Yes, I understand,” Stan said. Supposedly, weapons of silver or cold iron were more effective against the Enemy’s forces.
“If I live long enough, I’ll have better,” Kyra mused. With a final flourish, she sheathed the sword at her belt.
Somehow, it had never really occurred to Stan just how dangerous this silver-haired girl’s occupation was. Every day, she put her life in dan
ger; every time she rode her golden unicorn, there was a chance she would never see another sunset. “If I live long enough. . .” The idea behind the words made Stan’s chest tighten.
“I-I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said. “You’ll have plenty of time . . . I mean . . . I’m sure you’ll have the best weapons one day.” He smiled at her, but felt foolish.
“I’ll settle for just living through the night,” she replied. “. . . And finding Janise.”
“Time to get moving,” Rigel urged.
“Right,” Kyra said. She mounted quickly and helped Stan up behind her. He clung tight, though her crossbow quiver felt cold and unyielding against his chest.
“Circle south and the back toward the city,” she told her mount.
“I heard Volstag’s plan,” Rigel replied. “Did you think I’d forgotten?”
Again, she laughed.
Even though she’s not much older than me, Konstantine thought, she’s used to danger.
They galloped south, weaving back and forth across the tops of the drifts in a careful search pattern. For Stan, the world became a cold gray blur. The only thing that remained real to him was the girl and the thundering gallop of her steed. He found even this frigid existence preferable to his lowly life in Wolfnacht.
“Do you think . . .” he began. “Do you think I could join the cavalry?”
At first, he thought though Kyra hadn’t heard him through the wind. A low neigh, like a chuckle, rumbled from Rigel’s barrel-like chest.
“I’d like to see the world,” Stan added, “or Atrios, anyway. And I’d like to fight evil. I know I’m young, but . . .”
“You’re older than Kyra was when I met her,” Rigel put in.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t,” Kyra finally said. “Assuming any of us make it back to base, you’re welcome to tag along. I can’t promise you’ll be accepted, but you can at least try.”
Her answer made him feel even warmer than the closeness of her body. To leave Wolfnacht! To strike out into the world and leave his dull life behind!
“You’ll have to stay alert if you want to join the cavalry,” Rigel warned, breaking Stan’s reverie.
“I will. I promise.”
They rode silently for a while, as the snow-filled sky grew gradually lighter. The storm was abating as well; the howl of the wind no longer drowned out the blood pounding in Stan’s frigid ears.
Kyra gazed at the sky, cursed, and said, “It’s time to go back. Gods of Mercy, I was hoping we’d turn up some sign of her.”
“Maybe the others have,” Stan said hopefully.
“Helios and Lanna haven’t,” Rigel replied. “We would have heard.”
The golden unicorn turned north and galloped back toward town. Soon, the jagged teeth of the palisade appeared through the blizzard. Beyond the wall crouched the dark houses of Wolfnacht.
“When’s the eclipse?” Kyra asked.
“I don’t know,” Stan replied. “I didn’t know about the festival at all until you arrived.”
“No wonder he wants to leave home,” Rigel mused.
Kyra patted the stallion on the neck as he ran. “Some are lucky enough to be born into their families,” she said, “others have to find them.”
“Which were you?” asked Stan.
“Both,” she replied—and then fell silent once more.
When they reached the wall, they circled to the left. The storm had abated enough that they could see tracks around the palisade—but only the hoofprints of unicorns, no trace of human feet.
They circled west and soon spotted Santos and Apollonia riding toward them.
“Any sign of her?” Santos asked.
Kyra shook her head.
“That’s bad,” he said. “Helios told Apollonia that she and Lanna hadn’t found anything either and said they were circling north to join Volstag and Stardust in searching near the pass.”
Stan nodded understandingly and said, “Unicorn telepathy.”
Santos raised an eyebrow at him.
“Konstantine is thinking of joining up,” Kyra explained.
The curly haired rider and Apollonia regarded the boy skeptically. “Today’s not a great time to enlist,” Santos said, “but if this fool wants to stick his neck on the chopping block, who am I to argue?”
“I take it you didn’t find any trace of Janise in town,” Kyra said.
“Nothing—though the whole place seemed to be stirring as we rode out.”
The festival, Nikolas thought. It’s almost time.
“Any trouble getting through the gate?” Kyra asked Santos.
“No. That Nikolas guy opened it right up and smiled as we left.”
“Let’s hope our welcome back is equally warm,” Rigel replied.
Stan doubted it would be, but he didn’t say anything.
They kept riding north, circling the fifteen-foot-tall wooden walls, heading toward the main gate.
“Did the potion work?” Stan asked cautiously.
“Apollonia’s living proof,” Santos said, patting his mount’s dappled shoulder. “Roj was coming around, too, when we left. He was making rumbles like he might join the search.”
Kyra shook her head. “He should save his strength. If Volstag and the rest haven’t found her—and I assume they haven’t, since we haven’t heard—I’m afraid there’s not much hope.”
Santos frowned. “Well, she couldn’t just up and vanish.”
“In weather like this, I’m afraid she could,” Konstantine replied. “There was a woodcutter two years ago who went to fetch some logs. It was only a ten minute trip, but he never came back. And last week, old Sekta disappeared. The elders said she went to cut snow blossoms or mistletoe in the woods, but no one’s seen her since.”
“Maybe wolves got them,” Santos suggested.
“There are no wolves around here,” Stan said. “Not since Olen Wolfnacht’s time.”
Santos rubbed the dark stubble of his unshaven chin. “Wolves have good sense. Maybe they heard the Enemy coming and cleared out. If your people know what’s good for them, they’ll do the same.”
“Aye,” Kyra agreed.
“Maybe the magic ritual will work,” Stan said. “Maybe Wolfnacht will be protected for another hundred years.”
“Maybe,” Santos agreed, though he didn’t sound any more confident than Stan felt.
As they reached the front wall, a murmuring chant drifted out from inside the palisade. The riders stopped thirty yards from the gate and listened.
“Maybe they’re starting the ceremony,” Kyra suggested.
“The sun should just be coming over the forest,” Stan said, peering east. Though the day had grow progressively brighter, and the blizzard had lessened, the distance still remained obscured by snowfall. They could see neither sunrise nor Wolfnacht Pass.
“Festivals usually start at the second bell of the morning,” Stan said. “I’m surprised we didn’t hear the first bell.”
“Me, too,” muttered Kyra, frowning.
The chant built, voices joining one another in a chorus of wailing.
“Sounds like they’re having a right good time,” Santos said.
Kyra appeared nervous; Stan felt it, too.
Suddenly, a scream pierced the rhythmic shouts. Kyra sat bolt upright, as did Santos. The unicorns turned their heads toward the main gate, and the riders’ hands strayed to the hilts of their weapons.
A shiver ran down Konstantine’s spine.
“What in the name of the Blessed Lady was that?” Santos asked.
“We should find out,” Kyra said.
“Wait, I see something,” Santos said. He pointed toward the mountains.
Out of the white distance, two riders appeared. Volstag and Stardust charged straight toward the gate, with Lanna and Helios following right behind. Helios stumbled through the drifting snow, struggling to keep up. Both riders and steeds were weary and battered.
Apollonia and Rigel rode out and met their comr
ades a half-mile from the town wall.
“The Enemy is through the pass!” Volstag announced breathlessly. “Keep riding! Back to the village!” The others formed in behind him and galloped back the way they’d come.
Stan peered into the snow, expecting to see undead swarming down from the mountains at any moment.
“They nearly took us while we searched for Janise,” Lanna said. “We didn’t see them coming through the snow.”
“Didn’t Stardust sense the danger?” Santos asked.
Volstag shook his head, and drips of sweat and melting snow fell from his salt-and-pepper hair. “There’s so much danger all around us, her heightened senses are useless.”
“We dealt the Enemy a blow before escaping,” Lanna added, “but they won’t be delayed long.” Her shoulder was bleeding afresh, and she sported new cuts on her face, arms, and legs. A long purplish bruise swelled on the side of Helios’ face. The unicorn blinked wearily, looking as though he might collapse at any moment.
That’s why he didn’t warn us telepathically, Stan thought. The wound must have addled his brain.
Helios struggled to stay on his feet as the group skidded to a halt before the wall.
“Open the gates!” Kyra called, rapping heavily on the wood with her fist.
“Open up! Let us in!” Stan added.
The bearded face of Nikolas poked up above the palisade.
“The Enemy is coming!” Volstag boomed. “We haven’t much time!”
“You’re right, you don’t,” Nikolas said. “You shouldn’t have left. Especially not you, Stan.”
“But we can help defend you!” Lanna said.
“Fools! You can’t even defend yourselves!”
“You bastard!” Stan cried. “Let us in!”
“Too late . . . brother.”
VI. Sacrifice
Nikolas sneered down at them mercilessly. Beyond the wall, the wailing chant of the villagers built to a fever pitch.
Then, a terrible, keening cry rose above the screams. The sound pierced Stan’s heart, chilling him to the bottom of his soul. The unicorn riders looked as though they’d been struck physically.
Zombies, Werewolves, & Unicorns Page 9
