Unicorn Point (8 page)

Till we mind again!

Then they broke, for it was not safe to push the limits, and they had covered the essence. Nepe’s presence faded from his mind, and he felt a swell of loneliness, as he always did. She was his other self, closer than any other person in either frame, and he felt whole when he was in touch with her, and empty when they separated. That was the way it always was.
 
But now he had to concentrate on his own situation. There were things he had to do, and do right. He could not afford to be concerned about his lost other self. Not right now.
 
As he rode, he risked one minor bit of magic: he made a spell to modify his smell. He had figured this aspect out for himself and was rather proud of it; this spell should go unnoticed because it was so inconsequential and seemingly pointless. But he had his reason. It would wear off within the hour, but that should be enough.

Neysa was traveling rapidly, as only a unicorn could, and soon enough reached the Were Demesnes. Two wolves charged out to intercept her, growling; then they recognized her and became an escort instead. Neysa was the friend of every member of this Pack, because of a spell Stile had wrought long ago. The younger wolves were not bound directly by it, because they had been whelped after it, but their sires and bitches had impressed the situation on them. In deed, the entire lasting truce between Pack and Herd had dated from that Oath of Friendship Stile had made. They had doubted his status as Adept before then; none had doubted it since.

Flach wished he could have seen those great old events happening, for he was sure there would never be any to match them in his lifetime. For one thing, the raw power of magic was only half what it once had been, though that made no difference in Phaze because all Adepts had been depleted equally, and other creatures never had used magic of full potency. Probably if Grandpa Stile made a similar oath today, it would affect only half the Pack and Herd, or maybe only half as strongly, but who would know the difference?
 
The escort wolves guided them to the current haunt of the Pack, and old Kurrelgyre came out to greet Neysa. The wolf was white around the muzzle, but still strong; his time to be torn apart by the Pack was not yet. Not quite yet. His time would have passed before now, but Stile had seen to his con tinuing strength.

Neysa played a greeting on her horn, indicating that this was only a passing visit. Several of the older bitches came up to sniff noses with her, remembering old times. Flach waved to several of the cubs; they were after all about his age. But they did not know him, and did not respond.
 
Then Neysa resumed her travel, and Flach was satisfied.

He now knew the location and layout of the Pack’s Demesnes.
 
Neysa made a note of alertness. Flach looked up. In a moment he spied what her sharper senses had noted: a for mation of three bats crossing their path. He knew that these were young ones, traveling from one Flock to another. This was the season of exchanging, when young bats, unicorns, wolves, ogres, harpies and others joined new tribes, so that they could grow up and mate without inbreeding. Even some human villages did it; it was a convenient way to keep things mixed without disruption.

Stile, he realized, had chosen this time for action because of this; it would be almost impossible to trace all the ex changes that occurred at this time. At other times, a new addition to any group was a matter of community interest; often it was because of some stress resulting in a banishment elsewhere.

Soon Neysa played another note. This time it was a single dragon circling ahead. What was it after? “Maybe we should check,” he said.

She sounded a note of negation, because it was dangerous even for a unicorn to cross a dragon. She intended to carry him safely, not into adventure!

“But if it be young ones traveling—“ he persisted.
 
Without comment she veered to go toward the dragon, and broke into a gallop. She realized now that he had reason for this involvement, and had to cooperate.
 
“Maybe if we look first—“ he said.

She liked that better. She halted, and he dismounted, putting his hand on the doll-amulet in his pocket. She changed to firefly form, while he, timing it precisely, changed to bat form. The doll he held became a life-sized replica of himself.
 
Instead of him holding the little figure in his hand, now the big figure was holding the bat in its hand. Only a close observer would have noticed any change.

Neysa the firefly flew ahead. The golem walked to the shelter of a leaning many-spoked spruce tree, so as to keep out of sight while unprotected. It put the bat into its pocket with out looking at it.

At the tree, shrouded by the radiating branches, the golem halted. Flach climbed out of the pocket and transferred to a spoke-branch just above it. He crawled along it, blending in with its rough bark. He circled the trunk and crawled out along a large branch on the far side. This encountered a bush, and he dropped into the bush. He worked his way through the leaves to the high grass below, and scurried through the grass until he found the base of another large tree, an oak.
 
He climbed that trunk, up to where it bifurcated.
 
Finally he took wing from the height of a far branch. For a moment he was unsteady, for he had not flown often, and the sonic method of navigation was not natural to him. But he used his eyes as well, and gained proficiency.
 

Now he flew in the direction Neysa had gone, staying low so as to be sheltered from view by the trees. He never looked at the golem again; it would function as it had been made to do when activated, just like a boy. It even had his texture, weight and smell; Neysa might never notice the difference, until at some point it would fail to react in a living manner.
 
There was only so much a golem could do; such things were not very bright. But whenever Neysa did notice, she would not let on; she knew this would happen somewhere along this journey. She would deliver the golem safely to Grandpa Stile, who would greet it exactly as if it were Flach himself, preserving the secret. So would Grandma Lady Blue. With luck, no one else would know of the exchange, until it was far too late to do anything about it.

Now he saw the dragon. It was coming down! He swooped forward, eager to discover what manner of prey it sought.
 
This turned out to be a group of four werewolf pups and a grown wolf guiding and protecting them. But they had fool ishly strayed into an open section while the dragon was near, and now it was diving, talons outstretched, using its fire to ignite the dry grass ahead of the wolves so that they could not flee. The mature one knew enough to dodge back as the dragon pounced, causing it to miss, but the inexperienced pups were panicking.

The dragon veered to catch one. It yiped—and at that moment Neysa appeared, changing from her unnoticeable firefly form. She was in full motion, her horn oriented on the dragon’s posterior. Now it was the dragon who seemed foolish; it had not been alert for a surprise like this! It dropped the pup and slewed to the side, barely avoiding the horn.

In a moment it regained its equilibrium and oriented on Neysa. But she retreated to the shelter of another great bull spruce, while the rescued pup scrambled for cover. The dragon could attack her, but could not come close enough to be effective; if it risked the vicinity of the spruce, Neysa could charge within the tree’s cover and perhaps score with her horn. Meanwhile, the prey was gone.

Raging, the dragon retreated. It could not afford to expend its fire uselessly; better to seek other prey. It ascended and flew away, pausing only to vent a giant dropping. The drop ping splatted against the tree, causing the bark to scorch and steam, but Neysa had already moved behind it and was not sullied.

The wolf came forward to sniff noses with Neysa. Now Flach realized that these cubs were from Kurrelgyre’s Pack!
 
Naturally Neysa helped them, and the wolf recognized her and thanked her; they were oath-friends. Thanks to her, all of the cubs would reach the other Pack.
 
Flach flew away, avoiding contact with any of them. He had changed form without being noticed; it was important that he preserve that privacy. Neysa would return to the golem and it would mount her and the two would proceed to her brother Clip’s Herd, and thence north to the Blue Demesnes.
 
When others realized that Flach himself had not arrived there, they would check both the Pack and the Herd Neysa had passed, and find nothing, for he had exchanged identities at neither. So far, his escape was perfect.
 

He flew roughly northeast, toward the vampire Flock near est the Red Demesnes. He knew the bats there, and he liked pretty Suchevane, who had babysitted him on occasion while Mach or Bane was busy. The Red Adept was Suchevane’s husband, and their son Al was Flach’s friend. It was from Al he had learned how to fly as a bat; Al had covered for him during the difficult early practicing. Al was unique: a vampire troll, who could make magic amulets. If Flach were discovered, the Red Adept would be able to help him.
 
But not long before this break had come, he had had sober second thoughts. Originally it had seemed that the Adepts would check only the Pack and Herd along his route, and never suspect that he had assumed a new form and gone elsewhere. But then he had realized that they could be smarter than that, and if they managed to pick up his change to bat form, they could readily track him to the Flock. That meant that the Flock could not be risked. So now he was only seem ing to go there; when he could deviate from this route without being observed, he would do so.

He had an alternate destination in mind. The place they might never suspect, because they would check it first and eliminate it, and never think to check it again. Kurrelgyre’s Pack. He had not exchanged forms there, but he would come there in another guise, with a different smell. That was why he had masked his smell as they passed. He hoped this was as clever a move as it had seemed when he first thought it out; now he was profoundly uncertain. He was after all only (bur years old; he knew he was extraordinarily bright for his age, but there was a lot he had yet to learn. Yet this was his committed course; he feared he would get in trouble if he changed his mind now.

In this batform he could hear very well, but mainly in the range he needed for echo location. He could see, but not as well as he could in boy form. He could smell satisfactorily, and now he used this sense to do what he needed to do. If he had figured this correctly, there should be—yes, there was one: the smell of a wolf trail.

He landed in a tree near the trail. This was not the one the three outgoing cubs had used. This one came from farther north, and the smell of it was stale. It should do.
 
He settled down to wait. He was tired from his brief flight, for his bat wing muscles were not well developed. He might have a long wait.

He did. He slept, then foraged nearby for berries. Vampire bats in Phaze did not eat a lot of blood; that was for special occasions. Fruits and insects did nicely for the most part, and in the human form they ate what human folk did. Indeed, they were completely human in that guise, which was one reason he had thought to hide among them. However, they were not the only half-human species.

He hung upside down from a shrouded branch and slept again. Night came, and he wanted to forage, for bats were more comfortable in the dark, but he didn’t dare; he had to be by this path when the wolves came.

Where was Granddam Neysa now? Surely most of the way to her brother’s herd. She would probably turn the golem over to another unicorn while she grazed—no, she surely would know by now that it was a golem, so would not pause there, lest others discover that. She would dally only briefly, then move on, not really resting or eating until she reached the Blue Demesnes. Flach felt homesick, missing her company, and that of Stile and the Lady Blue. He missed his dam Fleta too, and was painfully sorry he had had to deceive her; he knew she would be distraught by his disappearance, when she learned of it. She would be horrified that he had gone alone into the wilderness, and she would fear he was dead.
 
If he changed to human form, he knew he would cry. But he did not, because the magic of such a change could be noted, and that could give him away. He had to wait until it was time, and then change only when it could be covered by another creature’s magic.

All next day he waited, and all next night. The loneliness was almost overwhelming. He thought of Nepe, and won dered whether she had escaped. He thought she must have, because there had been no further communion between Mach and Bane. Of course, Mach might be trying to reach Bane, and Bane wouldn’t know unless he came to their rendezvous, so maybe it didn’t prove anything. The two had to overlap, physically, each standing in the same geographic spot of their frames; that was why they always exchanged at the same place, near the Red Demesnes. Flach and Nepe could contact each other from anywhere; he wasn’t sure why they were different from their fathers, or why no one else could do it, but he thought it had to do with their mixed ancestry.
 
He kept reminding himself that his isolation was a good sign, because it meant that no one had discovered his disap pearance, or if they had, they had no idea where to find him.
 
The critical period, as Grandpa Stile had impressed on him, was the first week. That was when his absence would be discovered, and when the search would be most intense. Af ter that the risk would diminish, though he could never afford to get careless.

Late in the afternoon of the second day, he jolted awake.