02 Unicorn Rider (21 page)

‘This is not a mission for soldiers. This is a mission for the Wing Warrior,’ Lord Citrine confirmed. ‘Soldier, you have done your people a great service this day, but I would kindly ask of you one more task before you rest.’

‘Anything, My Lord,’ the soldier said.

‘Please ride with all haste to the village of Landmark, and request the presence of the Wing Warrior here at the palace.’

‘It will be done,’ the soldier said, and he left immediately, stopping only to saddle up a fresh horse.

He rode fast and hard, but he never reached his destination. He was ambushed by two soldiers in silver armour just outside of the village, and he was never seen or heard from ever again.

***

At the same time Lord Citrine was sending a messenger to the village of Landmark, Nimbus and Carnelian were following a craggy path that cut a scar through the stony landscape at the foot of the Grey Mountains. Ugly, twisted trees rose up on either side, and there were huge rocks obscuring a lot of the immediate surroundings from view. On two such rocks, wyverns were perched menacingly, occasionally shivering their wings, or snapping their powerful jaws at passing dragonflies.

‘Why don’t they attack us?’ Nimbus asked, clutching a shard of stone that was hanging around his neck on a leather strap.

‘Excuse me,’ a muffled voice inside the stone said. ‘Would you mind ever–so–much not squeezing quite so hard? There’s not a lot of room in here as it is.’

‘Sorry, Captain,’ Nimbus said, letting go. ‘I keep forgetting you’re in there.’

‘Quite all right,’ Captain Spectre said. ‘I’m just glad to get out of the tower for a while.’

‘You’re not out,’ Carnelian said. ‘Not technically. That rather tasteful hunk of stone Nimbus is wearing is still a piece of the tower. The only difference is you’re haunting a much smaller part of it than you were before.’

‘Still,’ Spectre said, ‘it was rather clever of Nimbus to realise I could haunt any part of the stone, even those parts that were taken out of the ruins. This way I can travel the world again. I can have adventures. It’s just a shame my men couldn’t come along.’

‘Men?’ Carnelian asked.

‘Yes, my men,’ Spectre said.

‘I didn’t notice any other men.’

‘Well then you aren’t very observant, are you? They were all over the place.’

‘No, they weren’t.’

‘Yes, they were.’

 Nimbus shook his head furiously at Carnelian in a way that suggested he wanted the cyclops to stop this line of conversation. Carnelian didn’t take the hint.

‘There was nobody else there.’

‘Of course there was,’ Spectre said.

‘They’re shy,’ Nimbus said, smacking Carnelian around the back of the head.

‘Ouch. What was that for?’

‘There are no men,’ Nimbus whispered, clamping one hand over the stone to block out what he was saying. ‘Captain Spectre has been alone for a long time. He’s invented some friends for company.’

Carnelian grinned. ‘So he’s totally insane then?’

‘What?’ Spectre said, his voice barely audible through Nimbus’s hand. ‘Trading in grain? No, I was never a trader. I was a soldier. I thought the title of captain gave that away.’

Nimbus took his hand away from the stone and pointed a warning finger at Carnelian. One of the nearby wyverns cawed and flapped its wings.

‘I’m a little concerned about these things,’ Nimbus said. ‘They’ve been following us for hours now. Why don’t they attack? Why are they just watching?’

‘They don’t need to attack,’ Carnelian said. ‘I get the distinct impression we’re going exactly the way they want us to go.’

‘I agree,’ Spectre said. ‘I think there’s going to be a bit of a welcoming party for us when we get there.’

‘Exactly. They know where we’re heading, and they’ve had plenty of time to prepare.’

Nimbus found a pebble and hurled it at one of the wyverns. He missed completely, and the wyvern chuckled. ‘I hate those things,’ he hissed.

‘Don’t fill your life with hate,’ Spectre said. ‘Otherwise you won’t have room for anything else, and one day you’ll be dead, and you’ll regret the things you missed.’

Carnelian rolled his eyes, grabbing a stone for himself and hurling it straight at the closest wyvern. The stone struck the wyvern right on the forehead, causing the monstrous creature to spit and snarl. The second wyvern bared its teeth in a challenge that Nimbus did not feel up to accepting without a sword to protect himself.

‘I wouldn’t make them too mad,’ Spectre said. ‘We don’t really know what they are, or what they can do.’

‘I know what they are,’ Carnelian said, lumbering off ahead.

‘You do?’ Nimbus said.

‘Of course. Infinite vision, remember? I know lots of things. But you know what they are too.’

‘I don’t.’

‘They told you last night.’

‘They told me they were dragons.’

‘Well, there you go then.’

‘You’re trying to tell me these things are dragons? That’s not possible. Mother laid eleven eggs, and had eleven children. The only other egg was Cumulo’s. There weren’t any more eggs, so there can’t be any more hatchlings.’

‘Oh, you think you know everything, don’t you?’ Carnelian snapped. ‘Do you really think that just because Mother was poisoned by Crow she stopped laying eggs?’

Nimbus’s mouth hung open slightly. ‘You mean...?’

‘Hate can bring life into the world, just as easily as love can. These wyverns, as you call them, are not Mother’s children. They’re Sorrow’s.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Nimbus sat on a rock by the side of the path, directly opposite one of the two wyverns that had insisted on hopping and flapping along on every step of his journey. Carnelian squatted beside him, most of his weight supported by his grotesquely muscular arms.

‘I don’t get it,’ Nimbus said. ‘Why don’t they look like dragons?’

‘Crow’s poison twisted Mother,’ Carnelian said. ‘It corrupted her, and made her something evil. Every egg she laid during her time as Sorrow was corrupted in the same way, and the things that hatched out of them were twisted, evil versions of the dragons they could have been.’

‘How horrible,’ Captain Spectre said, making the effort to materialise beside his companions.

‘It was just another part of Crow’s plan,’ Carnelian went on. ‘He wanted Sorrow as a banner to fly above his marching hordes, a figurehead to signal his return to the realms of men. But that wasn’t all. He wanted to create a new society. A society based on his own perverse ideas, but which still mirrored the society people already knew and understood. He made Sorrow lay eleven eggs, one to replace each of the dragons he intended to destroy.’

‘He thought these things could replace the dragons?’ Nimbus snorted.

‘A bad man’s plans are just as likely to fail as a good man’s. I do not think he predicted how his poison would mutate Mother’s new children.’

‘It is all very sad,’ Spectre said, who seemed slightly more transparent than normal now that he was out of the shadow of the ruined tower. ‘I wonder if they realise what they could have been if only things had been different.’

Nimbus looked into the hate–filled eyes of one of the wyverns. ‘They know,’ he said.

‘They’re still dragons,’ Carnelian growled.

‘They are no more like dragons than goblins are like fairies,’ Nimbus said.

Carnelian shrugged. ‘Dragons, not dragons, whatever. All that matters right now is that they are our enemies.’

The wyverns chuckled and gurgled and clicked their sharp jaws. They may have been small and weak in comparison to a dragon, but they were more than strong enough to overpower Nimbus and Carnelian if they put their minds to it.

‘Let’s keep moving,’ Nimbus said. ‘We have to find that unicorn before nightfall.’

‘Absolutely,’ Spectre said, dissolving into a wisp of smoke that disappeared back inside Nimbus’s crudely–fashioned necklace. ‘I’m ready when you are.’

‘Do you want to know something interesting?’ Carnelian asked, as they set off again through cracked pillars of ancient rock.

‘Enlighten me,’ Nimbus said, always careful to keep the wyverns in sight at all times as he scrambled down dips and up embankments.

‘Your friend the captain is in more danger now than he ever has been since he was alive.’

‘What makes you think that?’

As Nimbus struggled to crawl through a particularly sharp outcrop of rocks, Carnelian bounded over the top. The cyclops chuckled merrily as he slid down the other side into the gloom of gnarly, dead trees that cast shadows like spider webs. ‘You’re making this look like hard work,’ he said, swinging on a low branch and looking even more like an ape than normal.

‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ Nimbus muttered, wriggling out of the stones and joining the cyclops.

‘I’ve been burning in eternal torment for hundreds of years, of course I’m enjoying this. I’m enjoying everything.’

There was a dry rustling above them, and the wyverns settled on top of the rocks, their wings hunched up and their necks craned forwards.

‘Get lost,’ Nimbus shouted.

The wyverns snapped their fangs but made no motion to move away. Their narrow eyes twinkled.

‘Come on,’ Carnelian said, loping off through the clustered tree trunks. ‘Let them follow us if they want to. It doesn’t change what we have to do.’

‘What were you going to say before?’ Nimbus asked, running to catch up with the cyclops. ‘About Captain Spectre?’

‘I was just suggesting he is in danger at the moment.’

‘Why?’

‘He’s tied himself to that one stone around your neck. If I was to smash that stone and scatter the dust in the wind, what would become of the good captain?’

‘I don’t know. ’

‘You know, for the last in the line of the legendary Wing Warriors, you really don’t know much about legends, do you? The captain would become a wraith, a poor, lonely creature barely anything more than a moan on the wind. He would have nothing left to anchor him to the physical world, and yet no way to be guided on into the world hereafter. In essence, he would become nothing at all.’

Nimbus’s necklace suddenly seemed very heavy, and he clutched the stone protectively to his chest. ‘Are there really such sad spirits in the world?’

‘Every time you are alone and you feel the hairs on your neck prickle, or a shiver run down your spine, that is the silent passing of a wraith, trapped in its constant search for home.’

Nimbus shivered, and glanced over his shoulder as though he expected to see a mass of wailing spirits reaching out to him with pleading hands. ‘Why are you telling me this?’ he asked.

‘Just making conversation.’

‘Well, while you’re feeling talkative, why not let me know where we’re headed?’

‘You already know. We are heading for the Grey Mountains, to a place where the living may not go.’

‘But what is this place? Why is it so dangerous?’

‘You really want to know?’

‘Yes, I really want to know. I have to be prepared for whatever it is I have to do.’

They emerged from the trees, and found themselves on the edge of a crevasse. Far below, water rushed over jagged rapids with a roar that would have put any dragon to shame. On the far side, the path continued, wiggling out of sight into the lower slopes of the Grey Mountains.

‘Hmm,’ Carnelian said, rubbing his chin. ‘I didn’t expect this. I’m not sure we have time to go around.’

Nimbus looked at the foaming waters of the crevasse. ‘And I don’t fancy going down.’

‘Over it is, then,’ Carnelian said, clapping his hands enthusiastically. ‘I’ll get us a bridge.’

‘Where from?’

Carnelian ambled over to the tallest of the nearby trees, and ripped it clean out of the ground by the roots. He carried it back to the crevasse, leaving a trail of muddy clumps behind him. ‘I think this will do nicely,’ he said, dropping the tree so that it bridged the gap.

Nimbus looked from the tree to Carnelian, then back to the tree. ‘You just picked up a tree,’ he said.

‘How observant of you.’

‘A really big tree.’

‘That’s right.’ Carnelian patted Nimbus on the shoulder. ‘Now... You go first.’

The water below them bellowed thunderously. The tips of the spiky rapids gleamed through the foam. If anyone was unlucky enough to fall, they would most certainly be smashed to pieces by the swift–flowing river.

‘Me first?’ Nimbus said, sheepishly.

‘You are the hero here,’ Carnelian pointed out. ‘It seems only right you go first.’

‘I suppose so.’ Nimbus felt even less convinced than he sounded, but even so, he took a deep breath and stepped out onto the tree. The tree shifted slightly beneath his weight. ‘Are you sure this is going to be strong enough to hold me?’ he asked.

‘Trust me,’ Carnelian grinned. ‘I’ve seen your future.’

Nimbus, taking a small amount of comfort from the knowledge that he at least had a future, edged farther out onto the tree. It creaked horribly, but did not crack or suddenly lurch to one side to pitch him into the crevasse.

‘See,’ Carnelian said, triumphantly. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

Nimbus ignored the cyclops, concentrating instead on creeping farther along the tree. At one point there was a gust of wind that almost ripped him off his feet, but he dropped to his hands and knees, and in that less than heroic fashion, he made it to the other side of the crevasse.

Carnelian bounded along the tree after him, without even stopping to look down.

‘I hate you,’ Nimbus grinned.

‘When you can see everything that ever was, or ever might be, you tend to know what you should be afraid of,’ Carnelian said.

‘Do you know how you’re going to die, then?’ Nimbus asked, brushing the clumps of moss and tree bark from his armour.

Carnelian glanced back at the crevasse, then looked up at the towering peaks of the Grey Mountains ahead. The sun passed behind the clouds, temporarily throwing the world into an unsettling twilight. ‘I’m not going to die,’ he said.

***

Lord Citrine stood on the balcony of the palace tower, staring in the direction of Flint Lock. Word had already started to spread through the city that something was amiss at the fort, and the taverns and shops were buzzing with fearful gossip. He had been left with no choice but to rule that the fort was off limits until such time as he could talk with the Wing Warrior.