Feynard (33 page)

Zephyr, beside him, screamed also.
Great, healing tears of Unicorn anguish dripped from his eyes and splattered on the ground around his fore-hooves like a rain of tiny crystals.

One drop
splashed across Kevin’s mouth.

“Please!” moaned Alliathiune, falling to her knees in supplication. “Anything
… I’ll do anything …”

This plea seemed to please and divert their tormentor from his cruel sport with the young Unicorn. He paused to lustfully appreciate her begging, and a low, gross chuckle of anticipation flecked his pale lips with spittle. “You make a pathetic spectacle, wench!” he replied. “Would you truly d
o
anything?
Anything at all to save poor Scillianstar here?”

The Dryad flinched in the face of his naked lust, but no
dded, pale-faced and trembling.

“She would not!” Zephyr replied, stepping between them. “She would die first rather than serve your depraved reign!”

But Alliathiune was made of sterner stuff. Intent on some desperate course of action, she stiff-armed the Unicorn and walked out towards Ozark’s disciple, trying at once to be innocent and seductive, by her charms to beguile him and bring him within her reach.

“You’ll make a pretty bauble!” he sneered. “Come here, little Dryad. Come taste of my mastery!”

The Dark Apprentice muttered an incantation.

“What would you have of me, o mighty wizard?” asked the Dryad.

“Your service, for a start,” said he, and loosed his spell. “I prefer my women seen and not heard.”

Kevin
gasped. In a blink of an eye, the Dryad’s whole head had been encased in an eyeless round helmet of polished metal, which snapped closed around her slender neck and entombed her in a world of darkness. The shock of it made her scream, although the sound was severely muffled beneath that steely chamber, and she pulled angrily at the helmet, but to no avail.

The wizard’s laughter shrilled out like a donkey’s full-throated bray. “Wonderful! N
ow we shall behold you tremble, little Dryad, before the revealed majesty of Driadorn’s new master!”

Abruptly, startling them all, he whirled to the guillotine and loosed
the blade.

*  *  *  *

A spark like the floating fireflies of a roaring bonfire wandered across Kevin’s vision. His alcohol-befuddled consciousness watched the delicate combustion of that mote and marked it for a deep blue rather than the fiery orange that was expected, yet the impression of burning remained. A sense of urgency osmosed into his leaden limbs. His heart chugged along steadily until the mote touched it. Then a fire like molten lava seared through his veins–a potent, refining fire–that dipped him in a vat of excruciating pain. But the pain was cleansing. It cleared and focussed his mind for a vital second, which was the very moment the dark wizard trapped Alliathiune in that steel helmet and mocked her.

Kevin
leaped to his feet, screaming inarticulately. His right hand shot forward as though jerked by a rope. Blue lightning exploded from his fingertips in a whisper-quiet hurricane, instantly nullifying the Dark Apprentice’s every artifice. The guillotine vanished and Scillianstar and Alliathiune were freed. The wizard’s staff he snuffed out as though plunged into a pool of water, and the shield protecting Amadorn, Zephyr and the other creatures vanished. The ripples passed out and beyond them in expanding concentric circles to the very edges of the Sacred Grove, and lapped up to the shores of Elliadora’s Well. Where his power passed, there was nothing left–not a breath, not an iota of magic. It had been negated. Cancelled.

The Dark Apprentice was first to recover. He stared at the staff in disbelief, then at
Kevin with even greater shock. “You …”

It was the merest whisper of recognition
. However, before anyone could act or react, their tormentor spun beneath his cloak and vanished in a puff of smoke, like an old conjurer’s trick but more effective. He was gone from the Sacred Grove.

Alliathiune rubbed her eyes
. “What, by the Well–?”

T
he magic came surging back like a tsunami.

Elliadora’s Well and its Sacred Grove
were the wellspring of Driadorn’s great magic, sustaining and nurturing a unique Forest of many leagues in length and breadth, the living cloak on the backs of the Seventy-Seven Hills. To attempt to nullify its magic was to snatch a cupful from an ocean. Kevin was toying with the force of nature herself, which was subject to natural laws and balances. What energies he had wrested from it slammed back into his body, for it had to have somewhere to go–this was the law of magical reactions, and it was one that Kevin would never again be able to forget. The price had to be paid in full.

Kevin
removed his left hand from his pocket. Raised it. Gaped at his blue fingers in awe and revulsion.

He wailed, “Oh, Go
d! What have I done?”

T
wo Hoots, a grey-banded
Owl who stood as tall as Alliathiune, turned his neck three hundred and sixty degrees to include Kevin in his survey of their diminished and much-chastened Council of War, before spinning it back in a ruffle and kafuffle of feathers. His huge yellow eyes blinked several times. “We are decided?” he hooted.

“Elephant legend,” the Tusk
, chief of the Forest Elephants, reminded them, “tells how Elliadora created the Forest, our great Dam, through this precious stone, the Magisoul. It is reputed to have powerful restorative properties, perhaps even against this Blight. It is for this reason, the stone aside, that we must consult the great Dragon of Blackrock Keep. His wisdom–begging your pardon, venerable Two Hoots–is the greatest of all when we speak of magical lore.”

There were glum nods all around the circle. Amberthurn had a reputation for fickleness and a
nasty habit of eating envoys he did not like. This did not encourage diplomacy, on the whole. They would have to bear rich gifts in order to win his favour.

“Our Mother Forest depends on
us.” Alliathiune added soberly, “I’ve Seen the Blight, noble creatures. I’ve Seen the fate that awaits. The Dark Apprentice must indeed be confronted and defeated, but our Mother’s needs come first.”

“
Semantics,” sneered the Jasper Cat, a thickset feline standing easily five feet tall at the shoulder, his fur a deep tan colour with a dappling of black, leaf-like spots. “Defeating the foul Apprentice and defeating the Blight are one and the same thing. The question is: who will undertake this quest?”

“Noble Zephyr, of course,” said Stardancer, the senior Unicorn following Mylliandawn’s unfortunate execution.

The Head Witch bared her teeth in a thin-lipped smile. She was middle-aged, but stood as straight as a hardwood tree, and her iron-grey hair fell to her waist. She had grey eyes as striking and powerful as a thunderstorm. She said, “Getting our interests in first as always, good Unicorn?”

“Why, you asinine little–”

“Peace!” hissed Ss’rrr’than’grrr-ar. “Your bickering sours the memory of those whose blood was spilled here this lighttime!”

“Are you accusing me …
?”

The Witch’s protests trailed off beneath the Jasper Cat’s pitying smile. “Our number,” said he, “should be representative of Driadorn’s many creatures. I personally can think of no
ne better than Zephyr to lead this expedition–but I would add you, good Witch, to this number.”

The Witch looked surprised and gratified.

“And Amadorn of the Druids,” continued the Cat, “to bolster the company with his peerless Druidic knowledge, and the sweetness of his harping to lift their spirits when the road is tough and treacherous–as indeed his sorrowful benediction this lighttime returned our noble friends to the root and sod of the Forest, to once more nurture that from which they were born.”

His words
subdued them. Even after the Dark Apprentice’s attack and the untimely demise of Mylliandawn, four other Unicorns, two Bears, and the Grey Kestrel from the region north of Mistral Bog, the discussions over what should be done had been urgent but less rancorous. Rescue by a Lurk sat uneasily with many of them, and to a creature they were rattled and upset by the events of that afternoon. Scillianstar had been despatched back to Thaharria-brin-Tomal to bear the bad news and bring help, particularly medical help, for the injured. It was better that he be actively engaged than be given the time to mull over what had transpired.

“I shall send my son to you,” said Swiftwing. “He is common-named Glimmering of Dawn,
an Eagle strong of pinion and fierce of beak and claw. I know of no finer lord of the airy spaces, nor a truer and more courageous heart.”

“Very well,” Two Hoots nodded. “Unicorn, Witch, Druid
, and Eagle. What of the Dryads, good Queen?”

The Dryad Queen smiled at Alliathiune. “Your fortitude and clear vision have already brought us to this holy place, to gaze in awe and wonder at our precious Sacred Grove. Will you represent the Dryads in this venture, our sister and Seer?”

She nodded, watching with hollow and sorrowful eyes the group of Dryads assisting Amadorn down by the Elliarana trees of the Grove, tending and healing that which had been damaged by Ozark’s self-proclaimed disciple. One of the trees had been burst open and toppled–but the most horrifying aspect was that the trunk had been rotten inside. They had seen; they could smell putrefaction on the breeze.

“Of course I’ll
go, my Queen. I could not bear to rest a moment lest our Forest suffer another such blow.” Kevin, glancing up, saw the Dryad was fighting tears. “I shall serve the Mother until I return to her root–and I feared I would come to that dread place this lighttime, were it not for the outlander’s courage.”

Kevin
felt all eyes turn to him, but he simply cradled his ruined hand and studied his feet as if he should discover wisdom thereby.

That Dark Apprentice
, posturing and bullying! Blaring his monologue of madness to the world, wearing his pretty slippers–he might have been laughable, save for his immense power and eagerness to destroy both the Forest and its creatures. Kevin knew about bullying. But this … this was unimaginable.

“The noble outlander has taken it badly.”

Alliathiune said, “There is something wrong with his hand.”

“It was blue from wrist to fingertip,” Zephyr
noted. “The same blue, by the Hills, as the crystal growths around the Pool of Stää. The Well’s magic has done this.”

“We don’t all consult your mystic pools–”

“Read your history, Witch!” the Unicorn snapped. “The Magisoul is said to be the same substance as the crystals of Stää.”

“
Is that so?” Her grey eyes narrowed. “Why then does Amberthurn hold the legendary Magisoul in his dark fortress?”

“Tha
t’s my point–he doesn’t, but he’ll know where it is.”

“
We are gambling the Forest’s fate on a slim chance–”

“What else have we spent the last four turns discussing? Has anyone determined a better course of action? Let him speak now!”

“Peace, good Zephyr,” said Two Hoots. “The Witch has a valid point. Whilst you travel, others should seek further knowledge of the Blight, here at the Well, and raise up the races in defence of Driadorn. We’ll send out spies to discern the nature of this threat amongst the Men. Right now we know little, save these vague threats and the very real affliction of the Blight striking our very heart. Let us remember the Dark Apprentice and his evil designs.” He hooted softly. “Let us remember the lives spilled here this lighttime!”

Two Hoots stretched out a wing to touch Zephyr’s flank. “The outlander will travel with you, of course. What of this fearsome Lurk, and the Faun?”

“We could not have succeeded without the Lurk’s might and prowess in battle,” Zephyr admitted. “Indeed, he did rescue us from the trackless depths of Mistral Bog and succour us to dry land. Snatcher has been a constant companion and a tower of strength.”

“Hum,” sniffed the Tusk, flapping his great ears. “If even the Unicorns are willing to forgo their ancient prejudices in this matter, then so shall we Elephants.”

“Even the Unicorns, nonsense,” said Stardancer, acidly. “We are not all as comfortable as noble Zephyr, here, with creatures of such ill repute–but we are willing to forgive.”

“How sweet and cosy.”

Stardancer glared at the Jasper Cat. “Do you disagree?”

“Oh, fie, no!” The Cat yawned widely, showing off his canines. “Let’s all be friends, by all means! I’m just intrigued to know who’s going to stump up the gold for this little venture to Amberthurn’s lair–who, might I remind you, has on all sides the protection of the Black-Rock Mountains and its legions of the Lesser Tribes Trolls, who are not known to welcome outsiders with open arms.”

“And yet it must be done, with all haste,” said Zephyr, with a quiet authority. “Our Forest sickens. This is no time to quibble over that which will never purchase our futures–and those of all Driadorn’s creatures. Of what use is gold in Shäyol? What will it redeem?”

“A good point, once you’ve
evaded its doctrinal elements.”

“Each to his own religion, noble Head Witch,” the Jasper
Cat purred. “Me–I prefer a full belly and a safe home over any such doctrine. Nevertheless, I shall add gifts from the Cats to aid this mad venture. I myself am too lame to accomplish such a journey, but if the Portal were ably tuned to a remote part of my homeland above the northern branch of the Rhiallandran River, I could direct you to a most singular help. Among the feline peoples she is common-named Ss’aywaaull’ss-ara.” And his yellow eyes narrowed. “If you can pronounce it, that is.”

“Ss’aywaaull’ss-ara,” yowled Zephyr, in a close imitation of the Jasper Cat’s de
livery. “That’s ‘Hunter’ in Standard Driadornese, I believe.”

Ss’rrr’than’grrr-ar’s
tail flicked in annoyance. “Trust there to be a linguist amongst the Tomalia!”

“Is this Hunter a Mancat?”

Now the Jasper Cat’s ears flattened. He hissed, “What do you know of the Mancats?”

Zephyr, as usual,
looked excessively smug. “We all have our little secrets, don’t we, noble Cat.”

“
Yww’rrr’lsss!”

“Temper, temper!”

“Good Zephyr, you should not bait the Jasper Cat so.”

“I beg your indulgence, noble Two Hoots. But I am fluent in all the major languages of the Inner Hills, knowledgeable
in many local dialects, and–”

Two Hoots interrupted heavily, “And overly wont to sing your own praises, young Zephyr, when all creatures here gathered would bow to your superior learning both lighttime and darktime. Learning is one matter;
wisdom
quite another.”

The Witch and the Jasper Cat both snickered. Zephyr harr
umphed and glared at the skies.

“Who else will give jewels or gold to appease the Dragon-Magus Amberthurn’s lust for valuable things?” asked Two Hoots.

Amidst a chorus of grumbling, comments, and no little competition and vying for pre-eminence between the different representatives, various promises were secured. Soon the meeting began to break up, as the creatures in sober mien made ready to be transported back to their homelands. War was brewing, war upon the Hills–they dreaded it.

“Noble Kevin?”

The Unicorn moved over to speak to him, but from his other flank, Alliathiune appeared to give him a friendly smack on his foreleg. “Why so pensive, good Unicorn? Our Council of War is concluded–more satisfactorily than we had hoped for, under the impetus of this Dark Apprentice’s cowardly assault–and a course of action has been determined. Are you troubled for your homeland, since Mylliandawn has been untimely slain?”

“The thought may have crossed my mind in a moment of weakness,” he
admitted, “but I swear by my horn I never indulged it. I suspect many Unicorns will be secretly relieved at her demise and yes, Thaharria-brin-Tomal will be in turmoil.”

“Then what ails you? Is it brave Snatcher? His arm–”

“Nay, good Dryad. We have summoned Zinfandir to the Well.” Zephyr’s horn-magic pressed a flask into Kevin’s good hand. “Aïssändraught. But leave me a nip.”

At this, a sad hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Fear you for the Sacred Grove, good Unicorn?” he asked in a low voice.

“It is a distressing lighttime for our Mother Forest, but nay, good Amadorn–”

Alliathiune lifted her palm to feel the gentle drizzle the Druid had instigated. “The fire is quenched, the healing Dryadson
g sung, and the remaining Elliarana sleep for a space. The Honeybears labour to restore the vale to its prior beauty. What became of Akê-Akê, good Kevin?”

“He returned from hunting lower down the trail, I believe,”
he replied. “The Faun did not see what transpired.”

Zephyr put in, “
Nay, good Dryad, it is not the Faun who weighs upon my heart like shackles of steel in a darkened dungeon.”

“I had not sensed you felt this way.” Alliathiune instinctively raised her arms and put them about his neck. “Share your burdens with me, noble
Unicorn.”

He sighed. “Truly is it said that the little ones have th
e greatest hearts. I had hoped it should never come to pass that another Ozark should rise to bring war, famine, and pestilence to our fair Hills. All the careful seasons of diplomacy have been torn apart in an instant’s madness. The Council is scattered and divided as ever before. And the way before us leads to Amberthurn, perhaps the most powerful mage of all. We leave the Blighted Forest behind to embark on a perilous journey in the hope of finding an artefact lost for countless seasons. If I am melancholy, good Dryad, it is not without reason.”

Kevin shrank
back a little as his friends, conversing not two feet from his left elbow, turned to regard him. He did not wish to speak.

“Ah.”

“It troubles me, good Kevin, that we entered your dreams to wrest you from that place you call ‘Earth’, to bring you to Feynard, only to fling you into the midst of our troubles, in the expectation that you would save us all. Moreover, it troubles me that we had little conscience in this matter save our overriding concern for the Mother Forest’s wellbeing.”