Secret of the Unicorn (Avalon: Web of Magic #4)

by Rachel Roberts

  “Dingly Dell?” Ozzie’s eyes went wide.

  “I have many elf friends there. Donafi, Brommy, Fernie—”

  “Brommy’s my cousin!” Ozzie cried delightedly.

  “Yes, he’s the one who told me about you.”

  “How is that rotten little pointy-eared creep?”

  “Oh, he’s fine,” Ghyll said.

  “Do you know what’s happening on Aldenmor?” Emily interrupted.

  “All portals to the Fairy Glen have been closed. It’s as if the Fairy Glen just vanished.”

  “That’s awful!” Ozzie exclaimed.

  “So I guess I’m stuck here,” Ghyll said.

  “You and all the others that got through,” Emily pointed out. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Well, if you need anything round these parts, I’m your elf,” Ozzie said.

  “I’ve been hopping around in these woods for hours and I’m famished. What do you have to eat in this world?” Ghyll’s long purple tongue snapped out.

  “Now you’re talking my language!” Ozzie grinned and patted himself on the chest. “Stick with me. They have the most incredible food here, you won’t believe it—”

  “Er, Ozzie?” Emily broke in, knowing that the ferret could easily discuss food all day long. “Why don’t you take Ghyll back and get him settled in? Storm and I can keep going without you.”

  “Where are you going?” Ghyll asked, blinking big eyes.

  Emily hesitated only for a moment before answering. After all, if Storm and Ozzie felt the flobbin was a creature of good magic, she had nothing to worry about. “We think some injured creature ran away into the woods,” she explained. “We’re trying to track it down so we can help it.”

  “I’m a natural magic tracker. Perhaps I can help,” Ghyll offered, puffing out his large chest.

  Emily gave a quick glance at Storm, then asked Ghyll, “You haven’t seen anything… peculiar around the woods, have you?”

  Mistwolf, ferret, and flobbin looked at one another.

  “That’s a relative question,” Ghyll answered.

  “Come on, Ghyll!” Ozzie grabbed a flipper and pointed toward the trail. “I’ll show you around Ravenswood.”

  “Excellent.” Ghyll looked down at Ozzie. “Lead the way!”

  Emily and Storm continued in the opposite direction. The sun angled on its late afternoon arc, sending bright patches gleaming off leaves and rocks.

  “What do you make of Ghyll?” Emily asked Storm.

  “I sensed nothing dangerous about the creature,” the mistwolf answered.

  “Something doesn’t feel right. I mean, if he’s a magic tracker for the Fairimentals as he says, he’s not very good.”

  “How so?”

  “There’s enough wild magic flying around here to attract every creature on Aldenmor, and yet Ghyll didn’t even mention he sensed any magic.”

  “He didn’t say he didn’t, either,” Storm said.

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  Emily turned her attention back to finding the hurt creature. She was afraid the encounter with Ghyll had wasted valuable time. How far had the magical creature gone?

  “Why don’t you try to reach out again?” Storm suggested.

  Emily faltered. “Let’s just check the clearing beyond those trees.”

  She pushed through the underbrush, Storm at her side. Suddenly she changed direction.

  “This way,” she said, heading across a small, nearly dry streambed. The signal had shifted; whatever they were following was still on the move.

  But what were they following? All she knew was that something was out there, and she had to find it. An all-too-familiar grinning skull face popped into her head, but she refused to consider it. What they were after couldn’t be evil.

  Still, Emily felt frustrated. “How are we supposed to help creatures that won’t even let us get close?”

  Storm shook her shaggy gray head. “If a creature is too far gone to recognize help when it comes, it may be too late.”

  “No!” The word flew from Emily’s mouth before she could stop it. “We can’t give up. We have to keep going.”

  Storm gazed at her with patient golden eyes. “Lead on, healer.”

  A slight breeze carried a light note. Listening closely, Emily picked up a fast swirl of faint static, like interference on a car radio. Within the jumble, she caught a flurry of notes. They reminded her of the crazy noise that had emerged from her flute that morning.

  Storm was looking at her. “Healer, you are tired. Tomorrow is another day.”

  All the energy seeped out of Emily. What was the point of continuing this ridiculous game? Storm was right. The creature didn’t want to be found, and wandering around in the woods wasn’t helping anyone. They might as well go home. She felt the familiar wall of despair closing in until she wasn’t sure she could keep the tears at bay any longer.

  She stopped suddenly. A wave of magic was building. Again! She felt it rushing toward her, sweeping through the trees, thundering past rocks and over streams.

  “Storm, run!” Emily yelled. But there was nowhere to go.

  Storm howled, turning to face an enemy that wasn’t there. With a rushing roar, the magic peaked, crashing down around them like a tidal wave breaking against a rocky shore.

  Emily braced herself for pain—instead, she was swept away into a dream.

  She twirled and spun through snowy, shimmering mists, listening to music. Wondrous deep sounds echoed, rising and falling in the vast space, each note reaching into the depths of her soul. The mists parted to reveal a path of stars, twinkling like diamonds under her feet. The music echoed over streams of pathways spread out before her, a million lights as far as her eyes could see.

  Ahead, the path began to break apart, dissolving in great bursts of fire. Emily panicked. The fire raced toward her. Burning, searing agony attacked every inch of her body. Horrible fear and guilt ripped through her. Terror stole her breath and squeezed her heart like a vise.

  Emily realized she was feeling the pain of the wounded creature. She couldn’t give up. As the dark feelings swirled through her, Emily fought to keep herself open to them. She had to stay strong and focused. She could feel her rainbow stone pulsing warmly with the unsteady beat.

  Something flew at her. She caught a flash of steel, the hint of a blade. Fast and vicious, it sliced toward her—

  She screamed, and her eyes flew open. She was standing in the forest.

  “Are you all right, healer?” Storm’s voice in her head sounded worried.

  Emily’s breath came in ragged gulps. “I don’t know,” she croaked, plunging off the path at an angle, straight through a thick tangle of underbrush. She hardly noticed as vines grabbed at her hair and brambles pricked her skin.

  She rushed through a cluster of trees and stopped at the edge of a meadow. Bending over to catch her breath, she curled her hands into fists and pounded the air in frustration. What’s the point? Even if she found the creature, there’s no guarantee she’d be able to help it. Emily was becoming exhausted. On the verge of tears, she swallowed hard and tried to remain calm. I might as well just turn around now and—

  Wiping sweat-streaked hair from her face, she stared in amazement. There, standing across the clearing, was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen.

  EMILY HARDLY DARED to breathe, staring in awe at the creature. It looked like a delicately built mare. She stood about sixteen hands high and had a finely chiseled head and round, polished hooves. Her lavish mane and forelock were tangled and wild. In the reddish late-afternoon sunlight, the creature’s coat looked magenta. She must have been wondrously beautiful before Black Fire had ravaged her colorful coat, leaving it charred and covered with patches of sickly green glow. She was trembling in fear.

  “Stand back, healer,” Storm growled, stepping out of the brush, her hackles up.

  The horse snorted at the mistwolf’s appearance, her eyes rolling back in terror. Kicking
up her rear hooves, she spun and leaped—and vanished. A burst of loud, angry, chaotic sound followed.

  Emily was stunned.

  “Wait!” she cried desperately. The creature couldn’t run away again—not now that she’d finally seen her!

  The horse suddenly reappeared at the far end of the clearing. She was gazing at Emily suspiciously, flanks heaving, breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Her coat was now a bright shade of reddish-yellow. Emily felt waves of fear emanate from the creature.

  “Storm, she’s afraid of you,” Emily realized. “Stay in the woods for a minute. I’ll call if I need you.”

  The mistwolf hesitated, then nodded. “Be careful.” She melted back into the forest.

  “It’s okay,” Emily whispered. She could feel pain and apprehension sweeping toward her. “I won’t hurt you.”

  As she spoke, the creature’s coat shifted to a shimmering pale aqua, then to a rusty orange, then to a swirl of deep blue, before paling again and changing to a radiant red. That was one mystery solved, Emily realized. They hadn’t been following a herd of different-colored creatures after all—just one that changed color from moment to moment.

  She stepped forward cautiously, her gaze fixed on the angry burns. The closer she got, the worse they looked. Her stomach churned. How had this wounded horse even survived this long?

  “Easy,” Emily murmured. The animal raised her head and danced backward, her coat flashing reddish-purple. The healer forced herself to stand still and wait until the creature settled down again. “It’s okay. I want to help.”

  The horse didn’t run away, but she didn’t come any closer, either. Emily bit her lip. Now what?

  Patience. She heard her mother’s voice inside her head. Patience is the number one rule when you’re dealing with animals. The number two and number three rules, too.

  Emily knew that. But it wasn’t easy to stand there doing nothing when the creature in front of her was wracked with pain that only seemed to grow with every passing moment.

  She told herself to remain calm. Freaking out wasn’t going to help. The animal’s gaze met her own, and in the soft greenish-gold eyes Emily could see the intense fear.

  She took a step forward. The horse tensed and took a quick step back. Emily sighed and retreated. Then the animal stepped forward, gold-tipped ears pricked toward the girl.

  “It’s okay,” Emily said, and the creature jumped in surprise.

  This wasn’t working. Emily decided to try communicating in a different way.

  She tried to fill her mind with soothing images. “I’m your friend. I want to help you.”

  The animal cocked her head, staring at Emily suspiciously. There was a sudden blare of that jarring noise and a jumble of feelings.

  Emily waited. Her hands were twitching, wanting to touch the animal and try to heal her wounds. But she knew that wouldn’t happen unless she could win her trust.

  Pain. Fear and pain. Notes, emerging suddenly out of the white noise.

  Emily listened. Was that—?

  She shook her head. She had to be imagining things, didn’t she? She couldn’t possibly be hearing what she thought she’d just heard.

  Without quite knowing why, she hummed the first few notes of “her” song.

  The horse stood stock-still and raised her head, and for a moment Emily was afraid she’d scared her again. Then the confusion of noise in her head cleared for a second—and echoed the same notes back to her!

  Emily gasped. “You heard me!” she exclaimed out loud. “You understood!”

  The horse repeated the first few notes—all at once—but the tune got lost in the chaos of white noise and jangled chords. Then she lowered her graceful head and let out a low, sad whine.

  Emily pointed to herself. “I’m Emily.”

  She focused her thoughts again. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  Another burst of static. Then—a single word.

  “Lorelei.” The voice coming from the animal’s mind was feminine and musical-sounding.

  “Lorelei,” Emily whispered. Was that her name or the name of a kind of creature, like a quiffle or a flobbin? She had no way of knowing, but somehow she was certain that it was the former. So then what was Lorelei?

  She shook that question away. The important thing now was to stay connected so she could get close enough to heal Lorelei’s wounds.

  Taking another step forward, Emily held her breath. The creature gazed at her. Fluctuating, uncertain feelings flashed in the greenish-gold eyes—doubt, suspicion, worry—but Emily kept her own gaze steady.

  Patience. Patience. Let her feel your good intentions, she told herself.

  The creature stared back. A few notes danced through Emily’s head, and she felt a shock go through her, like being struck by lightning. Through the shock she was aware that a connection had been made, a bond that was almost frightening in its intensity. What it meant, she didn’t know.

  She wasn’t sure how much longer it was before she took another step forward, and another. Each time, she stopped the moment she sensed Lorelei tensing up and preparing to retreat. Each time, she waited for the animal’s eyes to calm before moving again.

  Finally, they were standing only two feet apart. “All right,” Emily murmured, trying not to look at the angry burns that seemed to swallow up her body. “Now it’s up to you, Lorelei.”

  For several long, breathless moments, nothing happened. Girl and magic horse stood and stared at each other. The only thing that changed was the rainbow jewel at Emily’s wrist, which cycled steadily—blue, gold, scarlet, indigo.

  Emily waited. She could feel herself aching with the agonizing burn of the Black Fire. It was hard to stand there and look at the terrible wounds—hard to stand there and not rush to help. But somehow she knew there was no other way. Finally, Lorelei trembled and took a small, cautious step forward.

  That was enough. Emily slowly reached forward and touched the animal on the shoulder. . .

  Instantly, the forest tilted at a crazy angle and dropped away. And she heard it again, that dreadful noise blaring, screaming, frantic—the gleaming edge of steel flashed, cutting through flesh and bone.

  Emily cried out and tried to pull her hand away. But she couldn’t move. Focus! Focus!

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to make sense of what she was doing. She had to concentrate on the healing. That’s why she was here.

  Then one tone leaped out at her, and she locked onto it. A note. One pure note in the pandemonium. It came again, deep and resonant. Her own heartbeat. It slowed and steadied as she suddenly became aware of another heartbeat matching her own, pulsing raggedly but strongly. An image of Lorelei danced in front of her, her wounded coat bathed in a swirling white light, familiar and yet—what was it? What was different about her? Emily shuddered as her focus wavered. . .

  The Black Fire was stronger than she had ever encountered before. Was Emily strong enough to fight it? She didn’t dare think about it. Instead, she focused on the matched heartbeats and on the melody that rose up to mingle and harmonize with them, growing louder and stronger with each beat. It was a familiar melody and Emily found herself listening eagerly, aching to hear the last few notes that would make the song complete.

  “What are you?” Emily asked.

  Images of a pristine snowfall drifted into Emily’s mind.

  “I don’t understand.” She tried to reach deeper.

  A family—mother, father, and three little ones—running, racing strong and sure along a golden thread of stars. Each of the creatures had a crystalline horn at the center of its foreheads. Sparkling trails of magic spiraled into looping patterns and the music they made was heart-wrenching in its beauty.

  Emily was awed.

  The image burst apart with a blare of harsh, staticky noise. The wild sound picked her up and she was carried forward, her heart racing crazily and her lungs gasping for breath.

  “No!” she cried desperately. She felt the connection rupture,
and her eyes flew open. Lorelei was springing away, her eyes wide and rolling with fright. “Wait!” But it was too late. The creature leaped into the air and vanished.

  “Healer!”

  Storm’s urgent voice exploded inside her head, and Emily whirled around to see the mistwolf racing toward her, lips drawn back in a threatening snarl.

  “No!” Emily cried, falling to her knees. She felt overwhelmed by despair—she had come so close, only to be wrenched back at the wrong moment. “Storm, no!”

  Stormbringer skidded to a stop in front of her and let out a low growl. “Did you not sense the danger?”

  Emily blinked, not sure at first what the mistwolf was talking about. Then she glanced around.

  The ground was littered with branches, leaves, and other debris. Several large boulders were scattered about like a giant’s game of billiards. Furrows of fresh dirt crisscrossed the clearing, like gashes in the earth itself. An enormous, ancient oak tree had been ripped up by its roots and lay at a crazy angle across the clearing—one huge bough only a few feet from the spot where Emily was crouched.

  “Wha—when did this happen?” she gasped.

  Storm was gazing at her intently. “When the two of you connected.” She didn’t bother to finish, merely shaking her shaggy head and glancing around at the destruction in the clearing.

  Emily buried her face in her hands. What was happening? She thought she had made a connection with Lorelei. But at the last moment, the creature had given up, run away. Why? She shuddered as she remembered the hopelessness and fear and something else—shame.

  The last image floated back into her mind, full-formed and clear. She looked up, her eyes widening as she realized for the first time what had been different about the creature.

  “Storm,” she breathed. “I think I know what she is. Lorelei. She’s a—a unicorn!”

  EMILY POKED AT her cereal, feeling fuzzy and out of sorts. She had slept poorly, tossing and turning as disturbing dreams flitted through her mind. Now her head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, her eyelids heavy. Her first waking thought had been of Lorelei, the unicorn. Could that really be what she was? The more she thought about it, the less certain she was. She and her friends had seen a unicorn before—Kara had even ridden one. That unicorn had been noble, confident, powerful. He hadn’t changed colors. He hadn’t made awful noises. He hadn’t been afraid of them.