Briarheart

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Gerrold said the only thing he could think of was unicorn’s horn, and Brianna agreed with him,” I said. “But there isn’t any in the palace—”

  “And you were hoping I would know if there was a unicorn in the forest,” Lobo said, and looked at me steadily. “Were you intending to kill it with that little knife of yours and take the horn? Because I can’t permit that. Not even to save the Princess.”

  Clarion took a step back and looked at me as if he suddenly doubted my trustworthiness.

  “Wait, what? No! That’s horrid and wrong and—I was just hoping maybe it would let me shave a little off the horn, or something!”

  Clarion and Lobo looked at each other for a long time, their eyes reflecting the light of my little Fae-magic globe. I stood there shivering with fear and grief and cold as a chill mist seeped out of the forest and wreathed around us. I got the sense that they were talking to each other in a way that I couldn’t hear.

  Clarion turned to look at me sternly. “And what would you give to be brought to a unicorn?”

  I bit my lip and trembled. Oh, the danger of questions like this was in half the Fae tales I had ever heard! I could quite literally find myself giving up something important, even vital, if I answered that I would give anything. It could be my magic—it could be my sword—it could be my life. The talking animals didn’t play by quite the same rules as humans or the Light Fae did—their rules were more primal, and if I’m to be honest, often bloodier, just as life in the forest can be.

  But I didn’t have to think long. Warnings be damned. “Whatever is required,” I said steadily.

  Clarion and Lobo looked at each other again. Clarion turned back to me. “Will you do what is asked of you without question at some time in the future no matter what the cost?”

  Ah. Yes, I had heard of this sort of thing in tales before. And if I agreed—no matter what else was urgent—I’d have to do what I was asked.

  But this was Aurora.…

  “Yes.”

  They stared at each other. “It’s worth asking,” Clarion said aloud, and he turned to me. “You’re light and small enough that you can ride on my back. We need to hurry if we are going to catch him.”

  He knelt down and I climbed onto his back, sitting farther forward on him than I would have on a horse since I was planning to wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling off. “Who?” I asked as I got on. “What—?”

  But I didn’t have time to get an answer. As soon as I was secure, Clarion was off like a shot.

  Riding a deer is nothing like riding a horse. They don’t run. They leap. And there are no pauses between the leaps the way there is when a horse jumps. It was just one leap after another as I was being thrown forward and back, clutching the deer’s neck desperately to keep from being thrown off. It must have been even harder on Clarion than it was on me, but he didn’t falter and he didn’t slacken his pace at all. Lobo ran beside us, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Dawn finally crept into the forest, which made it somewhat easier to see, but I wasn’t looking at much of anything. I was too busy holding on to Clarion’s neck for dear life and trying not to choke him at the same time.

  I was doing as much work just staying on Clarion’s back as if I’d been running, and before too very long, I got a stitch in my side and I was panting like a dog. And just when I was sure I couldn’t hang on for a single jump more, Clarion came to a dead stop, and I fell off. I slid right off his back and tumbled onto ground that was covered in thick, soft moss. I looked up quickly and saw that we were in a tiny clearing with an equally tiny spring bubbling up out of the center of it, the water running away in a little brook that cut its way through the moss and vanished into the forest.

  And standing next to the spring, eyes wide with surprise, was a unicorn.

  He wasn’t very big, perhaps the size of a half-grown yearling fawn, and he was not as bulky as my pony, and he didn’t look anything like a horse with a horn in the middle of its forehead. The closest description I could come up with was that he looked like an incandescently white goat with an elegant long neck and legs and a delicate head like a deer’s. That long neck sported a horse’s mane, but it was silkier by far, and he had a long tail with a silken tuft on the end, but otherwise his coat was smooth and looked like that of a fine palfrey. His legs ended in silvery cloven hooves, and, of course, there was the horn, a tiny delicate spiral bud of pearl in the middle of his forehead, no longer than my little finger.

  He stared at me as if he was about to flee, his enormous pale blue eyes filling with terror.

  “Viridity!” Lobo said urgently, making the unicorn start and look at him instead of me. “It’s all right! There’s a terrible emergency! She’s not here to hunt you, she needs your help.”

  Speaking rapidly and finishing each other’s sentences, Lobo and Clarion explained what had happened, which was just as well because I was staring breathlessly at this incredibly beautiful creature of myth. I managed to gather my wits when Lobo said, “And Miriam was hoping that perhaps she could shave a little bit from your horn.”

  But all three of us looked doubtfully at the tiny nubbin. And the unicorn’s next words confirmed that. “It’s still growing,” Viridity said in a sad, sweet, breathy voice. “If you damage it, it will die, and so will I.”

  Clarion and Lobo looked at me, but I was already shaking my head no. “It’s not worth it. I won’t take the chance that I might kill another creature—not even to save Aurora.” I choked on the last words and sobbed once, but I meant it. Maybe somewhere, someone in the city has an heirloom, a piece of unicorn horn.…

  But at those words, Viridity drew himself up, raised his head high, and flagged his tail. “And I will not let the baby Princess die!” he declared. “There is another way! Take me to her!”

  And so we began another wild run through the forest to the road, then raced along the road at a breakneck pace. And just before we reached Brianna’s cottage, when Clarion’s flanks were already foaming with sweat and his sides heaving under my legs, we caught sight of Brianna flying straight for us. The four of us literally skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust as Brianna backwinged and hovered in midair. It would have been hilarious if things were not so serious.

  But her eyes were only for Viridity. “There’s no time to lose!” she said urgently. “The cottage! Quickly!”

  We managed to race the remaining distance to her cottage. Brianna flung the door open, and on the other side was the palace garden.

  I slid from Clarion’s back, sending him and Lobo back to the forest while I ran for the door. I didn’t have to urge Viridity since he stuck right by my side as we ran into the garden. And at that point, I realized that there was no way we could go through the normal entrances. The people of the Court would mob us. We’d lose precious time getting free of them, time that Aurora clearly did not have.

  “Kitchen!” I gasped, and headed for the kitchen garden and the entrance there. “We’ll take the servants’ stair!”

  We rushed into the kitchen—and everything stopped. Complete and utter silence fell, something that never happened between the hours of dawn and dusk because of all the work going on there.

  Odo recovered his wits first. “Lee! Run ahead and clear the stairs! Take three breaths, Miri, you’ll need them!” He came to me and held me back by my shoulders while I took those three precious lungfuls of air. “Now run!”

  Run we did, with Lee ahead of us to make sure we had clear passage all the way up. We burst out of the upstairs entrance and raced for the nursery. “Move!” I screamed as we hit the door and everyone in sight jumped back a pace, giving us a clear sight of the cradle.

  My heart broke. Aurora had gone from white to a strange pasty color. Only little flutters of the lace around her cradle showed that she was still breathing. I didn’t know what to do.

  But Viridity did.

  With three goatlike bounds, he reached the cradle, nuzzled her, and breathed on her cheek. A little color came into them,
and she gave a little mew and reached up with both of her hands and seized the end of his horn.

  He stood as still as a rock, head lowered into her cradle, while she held on steadily to his horn. Color flooded back into her, her breathing eased, and slowly but surely, she returned to the healthy little baby she had been just yesterday.

  But as color flooded into her, vitality visibly drained from Viridity. He lost his glow, his brilliantly white coat became dull and lifeless, and a film of white fogged his eyes. When Aurora finally let go of his horn with a sigh, he staggered a few steps to the side and almost fell.

  Almost. But my dear papa was there to catch him, and then he helped Viridity lie down on a bed that Mama and Melalee had hastily built with cushions and a blanket thrown over them.

  Viridity looked awful.

  “Water, quickly,” Papa said to Lee, who ran for a basin. But my Fae magic had something else in mind. I felt it impelling me, and I knew exactly what I needed to do to help Viridity.

  I went to his side, sat down next to him, and took his head in my lap. It was my turn to cup my hands around his horn, but this time, power was not flowing from him. It was flowing into him from me. As soon as this began, I understood instinctively what had happened; he had used his own inherent magic power that had been transmuted through his horn into something that could heal Aurora. Now I would restore his magic by giving him mine.

  I don’t know if anyone else could see it happening—Brianna, certainly; Gerrold, perhaps—but I saw it clearly. A steady golden glow around my hands drained into Viridity’s horn as if the power were a liquid and he were drinking it in. I felt it too, and I willed it to flow faster. And the more of my power that flowed into him, the better he looked. His coat slowly regained its proper color and luster. His mane went from straw-like to silken again, and the skin under his coat took on that glow it had had before. And finally, the horn, which had faded to a gray like weathered wood, took on its proper pearly sheen. He heaved a huge sigh and finally opened his eyes. They were no longer filmed with white but looked as beautiful as a cloudless sky.

  Just then Lee brought a basin of fresh water, and I recognized it as the bowl from my mother’s dressing room. With a nod of thanks, Viridity lowered his head and drank daintily. When he raised his head, there were little droplets on his tiny beard that sparkled like crystal beads.

  “I don’t suppose,” he said in that sweet, breathy voice, “that I could have some of those strawberry tarts I smelled baking in the kitchen?”

  It was Papa who answered since Mama was too busy with her arms full of Aurora as she made sure that she was all right and babbled tearful nonsense over her. Papa went to one knee—and, of course, so did everyone else in the room, since when the King kneels, everyone kneels. “Sir Unicorn,” he said in his proclamation voice. “You have saved my daughter. Anything in the kingdom you want, save only my family, is yours.”

  Viridity laughed a little. “Strawberry tarts will be very nice. And also more water.”

  Lee practically fell over himself getting to the stairs before Papa could order him to go to the kitchen. And it was Anna who took the basin and brought it back full, placing it in front of the unicorn with her eyes so big and round that they practically took up half of her head. I hadn’t even noticed her, or Elle, but there they were. And Giles and Rob and Nat, all of Aurora’s Companions were there to do what they could. Elle brought more water; Anna draped Viridity in her best shawl; Giles and Rob and Nat kept people from crowding the beautiful creature so he wouldn’t feel surrounded and perhaps threatened. I was so proud of them at that moment! And so was Brianna, for seeing that we Companions had it under control, she took her leave of us.

  Since Viridity had no hands to lift the tarts to his mouth, everyone in the room vied for the chance to feed him one. I was torn between being enchanted and feeling amused, with a healthy dose of exhaustion thrown in. But I wasn’t going to leave him, not before he was ready to go back to the forest. Short of going through the palace and the city, which was not a wise thing for him to do, his only way back would be by my opening the door in the oak. And to be absolutely honest, when I had first finished emptying myself into the unicorn, that was exactly how I’d felt—empty. If I’d had to open that door then… well, I couldn’t have done it.

  But the longer we sat there surrounded by relief and joy, the faster my power returned. And I remembered what all the histories and the tales had taught me, that Light Fae magic came from the joy and pleasure felt by humans.

  Light Fae magic… surely this meant that my father had been Light Fae! I felt almost dizzy with relief at that thought.

  When Viridity had licked up the last crumb of tart from the last trembling hand and drunk the last drop of water from the basin, he got up from his nest of cushions, and so did I. Only he did it a lot more gracefully than I did. It was a good thing that all eyes were on him because I more or less staggered to my feet. “It is time for me to return home,” he said with great dignity. “Miriam will escort me.”

  “Is there nothing more we can do to thank you?” This time it was Mama who spoke, having finally relinquished Aurora to Melalee, her hands now clasped before her as if she was prepared to pray to him.

  Viridity shook his head. “Not at all. It was my pleasure. That was a terrible thing someone did to your child. It was a disease carried on the wings of a spell.” He turned his gaze toward the exhausted wizard. “You should search this room for the way it got here—and when you find it, discover who brought it. There will be a physical object, and it may be quite small.”

  Gerrold bowed. “I will. I will not rest until I have found it.”

  Viridity bowed in return. “Then I will leave you to it. Come, Miriam.”

  We walked down the servants’ stair in silence but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. I think we were both too tired for anything but intense relief and gratitude on my part and intense satisfaction at having saved the day on the part of Viridity. He deserved that satisfaction because he had certainly risked his life, betting on the fact that I was not tricking him into a trap. And then he had exhausted his magic without knowing how long it would take for him to get it back, which would have left him helpless until he did.

  “I like you, Miriam,” he said abruptly as we were about to enter the kitchen. “You are steadfast, loyal, and true. We are friends.”

  I opened the door for him, and when he entered the kitchen, complete silence fell once again. A silence that was immediately broken by tumultuous applause.

  Viridity accepted it with casual aplomb, then stepped forward and led me through the kitchen to the door to the garden as everyone in the kitchen clapped hard enough to bruise their hands. But when he reached the door, Viridity stopped and turned back for a moment to face all the kitchen workers. Silence fell again.

  “I would like to thank you all very much for the strawberry tarts. They were excellent.”

  Then he turned back and led the way out the door. Behind me, I heard Odo shouting, beside himself with joy. “Did you hear that? Did you hear it? The unicorn liked my tarts!”

  Somewhat to my surprise, Giles was waiting for us in the kitchen garden. After figuring out how I would probably get Viridity back to the forest, he must have run down here without my noticing that he’d left. I was awfully glad to see him, because by that point, I was getting to the end of my strength and I was very happy to lean on him a bit. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. But I did introduce him to Viridity, of course.

  “I hope I will see you again someday very soon, Giles,” Viridity said when we reached the oak. “I am inclined to think Miriam has excellent taste in friends.”

  “I’m inclined to think you’re right, Sir Unicorn,” Giles replied with a wink, and Viridity chuckled. It sounded like water gurgling over rocks.

  Viridity nodded at the tree, and I opened the door—although it took such an effort that my eyes swam for a moment. Then he stepped through it, and I closed the door and
swayed, and Giles caught me.

  “Are you going to be all right?” he asked anxiously.

  “I just need a little rest is all,” I said, and lowered myself carefully to the ground with his help. “I think I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

  It was more than a “bit” since the next thing I knew, Elle was shaking me awake; Anna was offering me a basket with a meat pie, a turnip pie, and a pair of strawberry tarts in it; and there was a blanket sliding off my shoulders.

  I’d missed practice, of course, but I was pretty much absolved of that. Sir Delacar gave me a piece of his mind for running off without at least one of the other Companions, and I knew he was absolutely right. Things had worked out because Clarion had heard me calling for Lobo, but what if he and Lobo hadn’t? I’d been stupid and stupidly lucky. I’d acted impulsively again; and again, it had worked out well, but how long would such luck last? I took my tongue-lashing with proper humility.

  “You need to remember that Elle and Anna are there not because they are your ladies,” Sir Delacar said. “They are there because they are two of the six. So what should you have done?”

  I’d already been over this in my mind. “Gotten both of them right away. When unicorn’s horn came up, and I realized that Lobo might know where there was a living unicorn, I should have told one of them where I was going and taken the other one with me. Brianna obviously used the door in the oak to get to the forest, so she could have brought the other four to help if I’d been in trouble.”

  Delacar nodded curtly, but I could tell that he was somewhat mollified. “There are six of you for a reason. Never do this again.”

  “No, Sir Delacar,” I promised. And having gotten my just deserts, I went to find Wizard Gerrold. I figured that he must have found something while I’d been sleeping since the maids were setting the nursery back to rights when I checked.

  As I expected, he was in his tower workroom. But I had not expected to find him dead asleep at his workbench with his head on his arms. I debated waking him, but the raven let out a loud warning quork from his perch and Gerrold started awake.