Tuesday's Short - Harper & the Unicorn
This week’s short story takes us from the far-flung romance of an interplanetary couple and a rescue from invading trolls to the kinds of trouble that following unicorns can lead to Welcome to
Harper & the Unicorn.
When Harper goes after a lone unicorn without back-up she’s breaking every rule, and none. The only questions are: will her partner get to her before things go totally to pieces, and exactly how much havoc can one lone unicorn and a P.O.S. officer create before back-up arrives?Harper & the Unicorn
Today, I sat in the old gum tree, looking at the ground below. A footpath left a concrete barrier between the edge of the road and the sparse, dry grass beneath me. I’d been sitting there for almost an hour when I finally saw what I’d been waiting for—a unicorn, trotting happily down the middle of the road, its hooves tap, tap, tapping on the dotted centre line.
There you are, I thought, but I did not say it out loud.
Unicorns had very good hearing, and I was already walking the very sharp and slicey edge of a very precarious problem. I watched, and I waited, and I prayed the wind wouldn’t shift. Unicorns also had a very good sense of smell. Pretty soon it was going to…
There!
It came to a prancing halt, still in the middle of the road, tilting its head this way and that, until I was sure it had scented me. As I watched, it raised its head and snuffed the air, and then it looked up—and then back down—the road, and took a sideways bound off the street and into the shadows of a nearby walking track overhung by pine-like she-oaks.
What the hey?
It stayed on the tarmac making up the combined bike and pedestrian path, trotting swiftly until it reached the first bend, and then it took another sidewards bound, that landed it four metres off the path, looking back towards the road. I watched the tilt of its head, glad I was screened by a fine film of she-oak needles as well as gum leaves.
Whatever it was up to, it was being Hella cautious about it.
I stayed up in the tree, following the ghost-white shimmer of its fur as it doubled back towards the bridge. That was curious—as far as I knew the portal to the Other Realms only worked one way, and that was the side of the bridge I was on. The side under the she-oaks… well, I hadn’t thought to try coming through that way.
When I couldn’t’ see the unicorn’s ghostly outline, anymore, I scanned the area for anyone else who might be watching, and then slid over the edge of the branch, letting myself dangle by my fingertips, before dropping to the ground. Straightening up, I dusted myself off, and looked around, again. Still no-one—not even the guy across the road, and he seemed to see everything.
Well, if he wasn’t out watching the unicorn, then he wouldn’t be out watching me, either, now, would he?
I walked across the road and down the path under the she-oaks. It wasn’t hard to find the unicorn’s trail. Like big horses, those things weighed close to half a tonne. It was a bit hard to hide the divots it had left behind when landing. The only thing it had managed to do was stop anyone from finding its back trail.
And why, I wondered, would it want to do that?
The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t like it. Unicorns usually travelled in threes or fours, and they almost always travelled with a pixie or ten. This one had been completely alone, and was acting like it would like to stay that way. Time to find out why, before it went and got itself into more trouble than even a unicorn could handle.
I let my hands drift down to unclip my holster, checked my body armour was still fastened and hadn’t come adrift because I’d caught it on something while climbing the tree—and I kept moving towards the bridge as I did. Unlike the other side, the arch nearest the path was almost perpetually in shadow, but the unicorn tracks led past the first arch, and under the second. Keeping a careful eye on the near arch, I followed.
There weren’t many reasons a unicorn would be prancing about on its own—and fewer still for one dancing down the middle of an urban street mid-morning. This had been the third time this week, and twice had been enough to alert me that something was wrong. I’d left a message for my partner, since she’d headed out early to chase down a lead on the latest bunch of dust-runners in our jurisdiction. Nothing like everything happening at once.
Leilani would get it—and she’d be pissed that I hadn’t told her about the unicorn when I first saw it. She could just live with that; after the first time I’d told her about seeing a unicorn, she’d earned some caution. And she needed to own that, elf or not.
I pinged the station.
“Tell Lei, I’m heading in the second arch on the other side of the Steg’s Bridge. She can follow the unicorn tracks.”
In the background I heard what might have been raised voices, but I didn’t have time. Three times, right? That was a magic number in the Otherworld. Sometimes it was a lucky one in this world, too. My only question was who was about to get lucky: me, the unicorn, or whoever had called it.
I walked under the bridge, making sure to put my feet in a unicorn print every step of the way. Sometimes the magic couldn’t be replicated. This way, I’d be using the unicorn’s intention to take me wherever it had gone. I sniffed the air.
There was only a faint smell of horse to tell me a unicorn had even been here, but what I was really glad to note was that there was no fetid stench to indicate a troll. Not yet, anyway. I moved under the bridge, taking one step after another, in the unicorn’s prints, all the while keeping an eye on what I could see of the other side. I didn’t want to come out in the same world I’d started in, especially as I didn’t think that’s what the unicorn was trying to achieve.
It was a relief to see the outside world waver, shuddering into darkness before being replaced by a view of some other place entirely. I crept forward, one hand on the butt of my pistol as I slide-stepped to the exit. The unicorn’s hoof prints kept going, but I stopped still, and looked.
I don’t know what I expected to see, but I wasn’t ready for a Kombi-van parked beside the glass-like surface of a very large, still pool, a sizeable tent standing off to one side. The tent was fronted by a small wooden folding table surrounded by folding chairs, while two deck chairs and a large gas barbeque were set to one side. The campsite appeared to be devoid of life, but I couldn’t see the inside of either the tent or the Kombi.
I crept forward trying to see which way the unicorn had gone, not surprised when a sudden high-pitched neigh tore through the air. Glancing back, I noticed that the tunnel seemed darker than it should have been, but was otherwise still. When nothing moved at the campsite, I slid forward, remembering to twist my head and look up as I emerged from beneath another bridge, in another world.
Coming out into the sunlight, I noticed that the light on this side of the bridge was fading, and that ribbons of colour decked the sky. Nightfall, the perfect time for treachery. The unicorn screamed, again, and I forgot the shadows, forgot the open cave and the empty campsite, and ran towards the sound.
I might not know why the unicorn was here, but I didn’t care; I wasn’t going to let it come to any more harm than it had already found. The lake lay to one side of the camp, but a forest rose on the other, all tall trees clustered thickly together. With trunks like pillars, and the gaps between clogged by bushes, I couldn’t see a way forward—until I remembered the unicorn’s tracks.
They acted like a path, their shadowed divots clear, even in the dying light, even in the cavern-like darkness under the trees. I still hadn’t worked out what land this might be, and I had no idea who dwelt here, but I was pretty sure I was about to find out.
The unicorn’s trail led directly into the forest, the space between its prints extending as though it had come out from under the bridge and started to run. That suited me fine. As I sprinted forward, out of the dusk and into an early night, I lost the trail, but it didn’t matter. I could hear the unicorn up ahead.
Whatever was happening, it wasn’t going down without a fight. I pulled my pistol clear as the narrow trail gave way to a more open space—and, there, sweeping its horn in a deadly arc, even as it lashed out with its hooves, the unicorn fought against those who sought to contain it.
I came to a scrambling halt, dropping into a bent-kneed firing position, ready to run or fight, whichever was needed most.
“Let him go!” I screamed, and all heads turned towards me.
All except the unicorn’s; he took the opportunity to down a distracted opponent, striking down two more before reversing in the direction of my voice. I took two steps to the side so it had space to reach the path—and so that it didn’t block my line of fire, because the things that had ambushed it…
I don’t think I’d ever seen their like, not in the human dimension, anyway.
They, for their part, seemed more amused than afraid, although I noted that one or two knew what the pistol was. Their eyes touched warily on it, and they flinched when I aimed it in their direction.
“What is it you seek, human?”
Well, from the way he said it, the name of my race was not a compliment. I let my lips curl into a snarl.
“My friend,” I said, although the unicorn and I had never made that acquaintance.
The creature’s eyebrows lifted, and it tilted its head. The unicorn didn’t take its attention from the creatures in front of us, but the closest ear flicked back, and it snorted.
“I wasn’t aware we’d left any of its friends behind.”
And it was my turn to feel uncertain. Just what in all of Hades had I stumbled into? I looked from one of the monsters to the next. All were tall, and had a form similar to the other underworld fae, but that’s where the semblance ended.
These had flesh the colour of sunburnt brick or ripe persimmons, or a storm-lit sunset, hair like coal or ice, and eyes as dark and pupil-less as any demon’s. Thorns formed a double ridge down the backs of their arms, and their feet looked more reptilian than elven, right down to the large claw protruding from the back of their heels.
“Then you can give them back, too!” I snapped, and took one hand off the pistol, so I could gesture at the ground in front of me. “Here. And now.”
They might have laughed at that, but the unicorn gave a low rumbling whinny, and their smiles died.
“He was supposed to bring his herd in exchange for the pixies,” they said, and I felt my skin grow cold, refused to let the fear show in my eyes.
His entireherd? What had ever made them think the unicorn would do a thing like that?
“Why?” I asked, making it a demand.
“We need stock,” came the reply, and unicorn neighed a soft denial.
Somehow I didn’t think these guys meant mounts, and I certainly hoped they didn’t mean meat, but what other form of stock they might nee—
“Breeding stock,” their spokesman said, as though reading my mind.
Oh. I didn’t know what to say to that, heard footsteps on the trail behind me in the silence that followed. Before I could respond to that, the unicorn pivoted and lashed out with both hind legs, taking out the nearest elf… demon? before sidling away so it could watch both its attackers and whatever was approaching down the path.
I didn’t need to see the face above the hunting rifle, or the steady aim of the HK held by another familiar opponent to know I was hopelessly outclassed. The unicorn gave a soft whicker, its ears pricked, its eyes on me. I lowered the pistol, heard swift steps as the rifleman came over, his hand held out, demanding the weapon, even as he kept his weapon shouldered and aimed.
“Dawson,” I said, dangling the pistol from my fingers so he could take it.
“Harper,” he replied. “Put ’em on your head, and tell your pet to stand down.”
I looked over at the unicorn, and it moved to stand beside me, resting the lower half of its face against my side, its horn protruding out in front of my chest.
“Sorry, boy,” I said. “We tried.”
He snorted, and turned, taking me around with him until we faced the direction of what I’d decided were thorn elves. Their leader watched, no expression on his face, no hint of feeling in his eyes.
“Why did you come?”
“To find my friend,” I said, and the elf nearest me stepped in and drove a fist into my gut.
The thorned ridge running across its knuckles slammed into my body armour, and some of the impact got through, making me grunt. A second elf approached the unicorn, a halter of braided vines in his hand. The unicorn snorted, but allowed it to slip the halter over his head.
When it was on, the beast gave a great sigh, and followed the tug of the swiftly attached lead rope. I went to walk with him, but a strong, red hand on my shoulder stopped me, and all I could do was watch as the unicorn was led through an opening in the rock wall on the opposite side of the clearing. As soon as its tail had disappeared through the opening, the lead elf turned to Dawson.
“Bring the payment. You will have your dust by dawn.”
“If you let us film their end, we will double the fee.”
“Film?”
And Dawson held up his phone.
“We capture the images of their end in this device, and store them so we can watch them die long after they are gone.”
“Show me.”
Dawson safetied his rifle, and passed it to his partner, Hill, if I remembered correctly. The elves watched him, and I realised that none of them were holding weapons. Not a single one. How in Hades had they been such a threat to the unic—
Seconds later, I was on my knees, my own scream echoing in my ears, and Dawson paused in his journey to their leader. I lifted my head, and pushed back to my feet. The unicorn had been fighting that, on his own, and he’d stood for longer than I’d managed.
“The unicorn knew what to expect,” the leader said, as Dawson held out his mobile for inspection.
I watched the elf switch attention.
“Have him do it again,” Dawson said, pointing at me, and positioning the mobile so it could take a perfect shot of me.
I’d like to say I was expecting the wave of pain the wound itself around my skull and lanced through my brain, that I resisted it, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t. This time, when I lifted my head, Dawson was holding the phone up for the elven leader and showing him how to play the small clip he’d taken. I heard my own scream several times, before the leader smiled.
“Direct me,” he said, and Dawson obliged.
I hit the ground twice more, before the thorn elf was satisfied with his mastery of the device.
“I will take this,” he said. “You will have your images.”
“But...” Dawson began, and the thorn elf held up his hand.
“Of those that enter our halls, none are allowed to return.”
“None?” Dawson looked over at me. “Truly?”
The elf followed his gaze.
“None,” he said, and I did my best to keep the fear from my face, to still the roiling in my gut.
Dawson gave me a speculative stare.
“I don’t suppose we could barter for more video…” he began, and the thorn elf scowled.
“Another time. Make good on this payment, first.”
“Just don’t kill her first,” Dawson said, shifting his attention back to the elf. “There’s folk will pay good money to see it.”
I ran the number of arrests I’d made and dust rings I’d broken up through my head, and figured he was right. It was just a darn shame I wasn’t going to be able to take him down with me.
“Indeed,” the elf answered, and then waved him back towards the trail. “You can go. Do not return until this time, tomorrow. Do not return without your payment.”
Dawson went. He looked at the mobile in the thorn elf’s hand, and, for a moment, I thought he might be going to ask for it back. I also saw when he decided that would be a bad idea, and that he should just go. I almost panicked at the sight of it, but grabbed the fear and held it tight.
It’s not that I liked Dawson, but he was human, and these guys so were not. It wasn’t even because Dawson wouldn’t hurt me if he got half a chance, because he very much would; the Heavens knew I’d ruined enough of his plans for him to think I deserved it. No, it was just because I didn’t want to be left behind.
I turned, and started to walk after him. It was a fool’s dream, but it was worth a try. It was also very short-lived. This time, it was a firm grip on the arm that pulled me up short, instead of the blinding pain that had been meted out before.
“This way.”
I hadn’t known that more than their leader could speak English, and tried to shrug the hand away, but felt thorns emerge, tearing through my shirt and into flesh. After that, I followed, coming to a stop before their leader.
They were a lot taller up close than they’d looked from the clearing’s edge, and they were heavier than your average elf, broader across the chest, with more heavily muscled arms. I forced myself to raise my head and look their leader in the eye. It was a lot harder than I’d thought it would be, since every instinct I had was telling me to be afraid, to not antagonise, to look away, look down, to wait for death. I pushed the impulses back, and looked him in the face, instead.
“I am an officer of the Paranormal Operations Squad,” I said, hating the way my voice shook. “We keep the peace in the human lands. Dust trafficking is forbidden. Dawson will be indicted.”
The thorn elf didn’t blink. He met my gaze with a solemn gaze, studying my face with fathomless eyes. I caught the glimmer of a clear membrane flicking across his eye, in an almost invisible blink, and then he raised his hand and caught my chin between a curled forefinger and thumb.
“In these lands, I rule,” he said, “and we trade with whom we please. We are not subject to your human laws.”
Again I heard that slight twist given to the name ‘human’, but the elf ignored my reaction. He tilted his head from one side to the other studying the lines of my face, and then moving his head as though looking down past the armour to my cloth-clad legs and booted feet.
“It is hard to see your form beneath this,” he said, rapping the side of my armour with the knuckles of his other hand, “but your face promises strength and youth.”
I watched his eyes, trying to follow his gaze without being able to see where it went. From the way he moved his head back and forth, I figured he was taking another tour down my legs before he headed back to my face. There really wasn’t anything I could say to that, so I let him break the silence.
“Dust is not all we traffick in, and there is a market in the otherworld for human stock,” he said, appearing to focus on my face
I stiffened, trying to jerk my chin out of his grip, but it tightened. I caught the smallest hint of thorn, and froze.
“Intelligence is not always a desirable trait,” he said, “but someone looking for troll hybrids…”
And I froze, found my voice, sought to erase the tremble.
“That, too, is forbidden.”
His lips curved into something resembling a smile.
“Not in mylands, it’s not.”
Well, there was that.
“My people will barter…” I started, lifting my hand towards the pocket that held my phone.
He captured it before it was halfway there, holding it still.
“Your people?”
“The Squad.”
As I said it, a roar thundered out from the direction of the bridge, and the remaining thorn elves moved to interpose themselves between us and the path leading out of the woods. He let go of my chin, keeping his hold on my wrist.
“There is no time. Even if you were to contact them, they would not be able to get through. The way to our lands is very well guarded.”
I remembered the Kombi by the lake, the comfortable camp, and wondered if the elves had warned Dawson and his sidekick. It was as though the elf could read my mind.
“Their camp is warded. They have been warned not to leave it until an hour after dawn.”
Oh, they had, had they? Well, all I had to do was make it back to the camp before the trolls left their bridge, and I’d be warded, too.
“Not against us, you wouldn’t—and we have a pact with the trolls.”
Which was when I realised that he really had been answering my thoughts—and that he hadn’t let go of my hand. I glanced down, noting the firmness of his grip. Well, that couldn’t be good.
“But I don’t want to go with you,” I said.
It was worth a try. There was no humour in his face when he replied.
“So few of our captives, do.”
I pulled back, trying to pull my hand out of his, as the trolls roared, again. This time, when he looked towards the path, I followed the turn of his head—and saw his guards casting him anxious looks, their hands flexing as though preparing to seize weapons. So much for having a pact.
“Trolls are unpredictable,” he explained, and turned back to the cliff face, wrapping an arm around my back and pulling my hand across his body as he kept a hold of it. I felt the briefest touch of thorns, but they did not puncture skin: a warning, then. “Time we went.”
I tried to dig my heels in, to twist out of his grip, willing to risk the trolls than an eternity in fae custody, but he lifted my feet from the ground, and began to run. I tried to reach my phone with my one free hand. I didn’t know what signal I had now, but I was betting it was better than the one I’d have from under the cliff.
This time, he didn’t stop me. I doubt he even noticed. Good thing, too. I didn’t try to take the phone out of my pocket, just felt for the buttons to activate it, and hoped Leilani could pick up the call. We’d built-in the distress signal a while back, but this was the first time I’d used it. There was no way of telling if it would even work.
We hit the wall at a quick jog, moving through a curtain of stone like it wasn’t there, and continuing down a broad, well-lit corridor. Frankly, I was disappointed; I’d been expecting something more magical. The guards came in behind us, and none of them stopped.
I heard another troll roar as the rock parted to let them through, and then I thought I heard something else.
What was that?
For a second, I thought I’d imagined it, but then the elves slid to a halt, and pivoted, and this time I did see weapons—long blades of light, silver shields pulled out of nowhere, armour that grew around them as though it was built of air and light. I found myself dropped and shoved unceremoniously aside.
At any other time, I might have tried to escape, but not this time. I knew the sound of a silver bugle when I heard one… even if I couldn’t work out why any prince of the Sidhe court would be calling on territory that was not his own. They usually preferred diplomacy, and that played behind a curtain denying human scrutiny.
I picked myself up from the floor and moved so that I was behind the lead elf, but where he could see me. I’d been on enough operations to not want to be a casualty of friendly fire… or, in this case, well, I wasn’t sure what I’d call it, but I didn’t want to die by it, either.
The movement earned me a slight shift of the head, and I knew he was angling his gaze so he could see both me and what lay ahead.
“Stay!”
I snorted. Like Hell, I would.
I’m not sure what the reaction would have been, if there had not been another troll roar, followed by a clash of metal and the sound of cascading stone—and then the bugle rang loud and clear, and hoofbeats rolled down the tunnel like thunder. I didn’t know what these guys would do, but I knew how most crooks would react in their situation, and I ducked under the arm that snaked out towards me, slipping out of reach before I could become a bargaining tool.
“Nice try, sucker.”
He had no response for that, because the riders kept coming. I moved back so that they could see me past the elves blocking their path. I’d always associated silver bugles with our allies, and I saw no reason to change that, now. I could only hope they’d come for the unicorn, too.
I wished Dawson hadn’t taken my gun. I could really do with a weapon, right now, and somehow I doubted the elves would hand me one of the things they’d conjured out of nothing. I figured that whatever was coming, my allies would want to speak to the ruler of the lands they’d just ridden into, or to get a hold of him so they had a bargaining point of their own.
And that was something I could help them with.
The horsemen weren’t mucking about. I caught a glimpse of troll gore spattered over mounts and riders, and then I caught a high, shrieking neigh that did not come from the horses in front. In fact, if I was right, that didn’t come from any horse. The neigh came, again, a wild ringing bugle that echoed past me, seeking an answer from the tunnel’s depths.
Oh, shit.
The unicorn’s herd had arrived.
I watched the thorn-elf guards take a stand, saw one turn back as though he’d grab his leader, and then the foremost riders hit and there was no time to think. The leader had braced up in the centre of the tunnel, but he was no longer looking at me. I took a chance and charged, hitting him as hard as I could in the back, driving a foot down onto his calf, just below the knee.
His leg bent under the pressure, but I’d hit too hard and he fell forward. Didn’t matter. I rode his fall, and landed on his back, feeling the sharp edges of his scaled armour cutting into my knees. After that, it was a matter of hooking my arm around his throat and hanging on. Nice that the shield trapped one of his arms in front, and he fought to keep a hold of his sword.
Made choking him down that much easier.
The sound of battle rang out in front, but so did the thunder of hooves. I looked up. The riders had engaged the bodyguards, slipping from their mounts’ backs to take on their foes. Their horses stood where they’d halted, providing a partial barrier to the storm of white galloping through the cliff-face in their wake.
Again, that bone-chilling neigh, and, this time, an answer from further in. More cries joined the chorus, and I tightened my grip on the elf leader’s throat, and crouched low over him, relieved when the unicorns parted like a wave around me.
“You can thank me, later,” I whispered, putting my mouth close to my captive’s ear, “because you’d be a smear on the floor without me.”
He coughed something that didn’t sound complementary, so I tightened my grip. The last of the unicorns thundered past, and I looked up. Most of the bodyguards were down, and being secured. Well, that was going to go across like a tonne. The elf with the silver bugle dangling around his neck was one I recognised, and I wondered where his girlfriend was, because she was usually right beside him when it came to slaughtering trolls, regardless of how much she hated being betrothed.
Funny that.
He looked over at me, and then registered who I was kneeling on, and trying to choke. He had just started towards us, when one of the remaining bodyguards saw what I was doing and knocked aside the blade being held at his throat.
I heard metal ring against metal, saw the strength of the blow he landed on his captor, and watched as he pivoted and charged in my direction. This was awkward. I crouched lower, hoping he’d miss, but I moved too soon, and he slammed into my side. I figured it would be better to let go than break my prisoner’s neck. Much easier if we had a living leader to do diplomacy with.
Can’t say hitting the floor with I don’t know how many kilos of angry armoured elf on top of me was a good thing, but I was a bit too busy dodging fists, and trying to keep the roll going in an attempt to end up on top and not underneath to care. I guess it didn’t matter what race it was: nothing pissed a bodyguard off more than seeing his principal having the life choked out of him.
I didn’t quite make it. Something to do with mass and what not, that and the guard had had a lot more practice at dislodging attackers than I had in being bulldozed sideways off someone I was subduing. That was something we hadn’t covered in training. Thing was, Leilani hadn’t been involved in the first wave of attacks. She’d come in the second, and she was itching for a fight.
She must have followed my attacker across the corridor, because she swept him off me before he could get a good grip on me. By the time I’d realised she’d saved me, she was busy slamming the guard’s head into the floor, so I looked around, trying to see what had happened to the elf lord I’d been sitting on. It was almost a relief to see him staggering to his feet, right up until I registered the sound of returning hoofbeats.
Last time I checked, unicorns weren’t into diplomacy. Vengeance, yes. They had that one down pat—but diplomacy was for the elves. I rolled half-way to my feet and dived, reaching out to wrap my arms around the elf lord’s legs and bring him back to the ground. After that, I tried to pull him under me, working my way along his body in the hope I could cover enough of him to protect him from being trampled or gored as the angry beasts made their way past.
“Stay down!” I shouted, and could hear the Lord of Winter shouting something in the fae tongue, but whether it was at the elf lord, the unicorns, or me, I couldn’t tell. I just wrapped myself around my former captor, and hoped it would be enough.
It was a relief to hear the first break in the rhythm of the approaching hooves and see the large, white form go sailing over me. I think the thorn elf understood what was happening at about the same time, because he stopped struggling and went perfectly still in my arms—and we lay like that for several very long heartbeats, until the unicorns had passed, and I dared untangle myself from around him.
This time, I wasn’t quick enough to move out of reach, and he’d dragged me in front of himself and put a dagger to my throat before I had time to get clear. I might have thought about calling him ungrateful, but I had other things to worry about.
“Nothing personal,” he said, and I was very careful to think nothing in reply, to focus all my attention on the elves who’d moved to close the corridor once the unicorns had passed.
Across from us, Leilani had secured her prisoner. I rolled my eyes sideways enough to see that she’d shoved the barrel of her gun up under his chin, and was dragging him around to where his lord could see him. I wasn’t sure how much good that would do the bodyguard, given just how spiteful…
The blade of the dagger pressed against my skin, and I remembered that this elf, at least, could hear my thoughts. It wasn’t something I could warn anyone about, anyway. I have to admit, the Lord of Winter’s opening line was a bit of a show-stopper.
“Lord of Thorns, we come in peace,” he said.
I stared at him, but he ignored me, focussing all his attention on the elf lord whose domain he’d invaded. I felt the blade press a little harder against my throat, and wondered if elven magic would be enough to patch the kind of hole it would leave, or even if it would be fast enough, but the Lord of Winter wasn’t finished.
“We thank you for offering the Seshara Tribe protection in their time of need, and for their safe return, and thank you, also, for the return of the unicorn stallion that protects both their tribe and their herd.”
He stopped, giving the Lord of Thorns time to formulate a response, and I felt the blade ease, the thin welling of blood it left in its wake. I didn’t relax. Now the knife wasn’t at my throat, I didn’t know where it might end up. Staying very, very still seemed like a good choice—or, at least, slightly better than driving an elbow into his armoured midriff. Best not to disrupt the peace talks, right?
I felt the elf lord’s hand tangle in my hair, did not like the coldness of his voice when he replied.
“That does not explain why you still hold my guards as prisoners.”
The Lord of Winter let his lips bend into a smile that was as deliberate as the rest of his carefully choreographed word dance.
“It seemed the best way to avoid a diplomatic incident.”
I could feel the tension thrumming through the Lord of Thorns as he considered his response, and I couldn’t fault him. If someone had just kicked in the front door of my home, taken my men prisoner, and taken back something I’d wanted to use to turn a profit, I might not have been feeling too charitable, either. But, if they were also a lot more powerful than I was, and were offering peace instead of threatening vengeance for me having taken the disputed property to start with, I might accept it… and plan exactly how I might get even, later, when I had more of an advantage.
It was almost a relief when I felt some of the tension leave him, and he pushed me forward, letting go of my hair and letting me stumble towards the Lord of Winter. I regained my balance, straightening up as I kept walking forward, listening as he spoke.
“This is true. Thank you for the unexpected honour of your visit. I hope you will understand that we have no accommodation fit to receive you, and can only to offer to escort you back to the human realms. I pray you will not take offence.”
I kept walking, forcing myself not to rush, even as the Lord of Winter signalled that his guards should release those belonging to the Lord of Thorns. I dreaded our paths crossing, feared that one of those nearest would do something rash, but I didn’t stop moving up the corridor.
It was also hard to resist the urge to look back, and see what had happened to Leilani. To my surprise, not one of the guards passing by me lashed out in vengeance for the insult I’d offered when I’d attempted to choke their lord into submission—and Leilani joined me shortly afterwards. The Lord of Winter dipped his chin in acknowledgement as we passed, but he didn’t take his eyes from the lord whose realm he had invaded.
“If you would lead the way,” he said, when Leilani and I had reached the two horses at the rear, “we would appreciate your escort.”
I stifled the thought that if the thorn elves led the way, they would be less likely to stab us in the back. Instead, I copied the Sidhe as they stood aside for the thorn elves to pass, and then we followed them out—walking behind them as we led our horses through the cliff walls the Lord of Winter had so easily breached. We also followed as they led us down a narrow trail that was much better defined than it had been when I’d walked it earlier. Finally, they led us under the stone arch of the bridge.
I glanced at the clearing where the Kombi camp had stood, as we passed. It appeared to be completely empty, and I wondered if that was a result of the thorn elves’ wards, or if the Lord of Winter had removed Dawson and his minion back to the human realm where they could be charged. It was something I could always ask later.
We passed by several piles of rubble that I did not remember seeing on the way in, and I remembered the bestial roars I’d heard just before the Lord of Thorns had forced me into his realm. So much for his well-guarded entry and pact with the trolls.
When we reached the she-oaks beyond, I was surprised to see the first brush of dawn lending colour to the dew drops sparkling on their leaves, and remembered that time moved differently in the other lands. I watched as the Lord of Winter bade the Lord of Thorns farewell, and then noticed the herd of white waiting on the walking track.
The sparkle from the dewdrops was nothing to the sparkle coming from the pixies adorning every mane and forelock—the very silent pixies, who watched the departing thorn elves with the intensity of cats observing a mouse hole. They stayed silent, until the thorn elves had disappeared back beneath the bridge, and the Lord of Winter had mounted and turned his mount towards the path—and then they cheered.
The Lord of Winter acknowledged them with a gracious bow of his head, and then rode up onto the walking track, and guided his horse towards the other side of the road.
“Come,” he said. “There is room in my domain for you.”
Four of his guards rode up beside him, forming a wedge around him. The unicorns snorted and whickered, and the pixies replied in a chorus of tiny voices that I didn’t quite understand. Just when I thought they would move off, the Lord of Winter looked back to where Leilani and I stood beneath the trees. I watched as he raised his hand to the centre of his brow, and bowed his head, again, in our direction.
Leilani returned the gesture, and he turned away, leading the unicorns, the pixies, and his bodyguards up the path, over the road, and back down under the bridge—returning to his homelands before the sun had fully risen. The horses we’d led back ran after them, falling in beside the elves, and following their stablemates without a backward glance.
My partner and I walked after them out to the road, where Leilani had parked our four-wheel drive. We made sure we were in the big vehicle with the doors locked, before the elves had vanished beneath the bridge. As soon as we were sure they were all safely gone, we drove back to the station.
As Leilani killed the engine, I leant back, and gave a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should never…”
She shushed me.
“If you hadn’t, we’d be down a tribe of pixies and trying to explain to a very upset Sidhe lord why we had failed to act when we had the chance. You did okay.” She paused. “The paper work’s going to be a bitch, though.”
I straightened up and reached for the door. The paperwork was always a bitch.
We walked into the station, together, and I was surprised to see both day and night shift still at their desks. Heads were raised as we came in, and then they stood and started clapping. I might have about faced and walked back out, except my partner grabbed me by the arm, flipped our colleagues off, and steered me through to the chief’s office, shutting the door very firmly behind us.
“What was that all about?” I asked, and the chief started to chuckle.
“What?” I repeated, and he waved at Leilani in a gesture that ordered her to explain.
My partner laid a hand on my shoulder.
“You know what I said about paperwork?”
And I nodded, not sure where she was going with this, but almost certain I wasn’t going to like it.
Her arm tightened, and then she sat down in one of the seats in front of the chief’s desk, pushing me into the seat beside her.
“Let me see,” she said. “You managed to rescue a tribe of pixies, free a unicorn guardian, piss off the lord of an entire clan of fey, discover a new portal to the Otherworld, andput yourself into debt with the Lord of Winter. That’s not a bad night’s work, Harper—even for you!”
Well, shit! That wasa lot of paperwork. I’d be lucky to see the outside of the station before the month was out—and if the Lord of Winter decided to call in his debt…
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Harper & the Unicorn is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/38rqqL.
You can also find Kristine Kathryn Rusch's latest free short story over on her blog: kriswrites.com. Why don't you go and check it out?
When Harper goes after a lone unicorn without back-up she’s breaking every rule, and none. The only questions are: will her partner get to her before things go totally to pieces, and exactly how much havoc can one lone unicorn and a P.O.S. officer create before back-up arrives?Harper & the Unicorn
Today, I sat in the old gum tree, looking at the ground below. A footpath left a concrete barrier between the edge of the road and the sparse, dry grass beneath me. I’d been sitting there for almost an hour when I finally saw what I’d been waiting for—a unicorn, trotting happily down the middle of the road, its hooves tap, tap, tapping on the dotted centre line.There you are, I thought, but I did not say it out loud.
Unicorns had very good hearing, and I was already walking the very sharp and slicey edge of a very precarious problem. I watched, and I waited, and I prayed the wind wouldn’t shift. Unicorns also had a very good sense of smell. Pretty soon it was going to…
There!
It came to a prancing halt, still in the middle of the road, tilting its head this way and that, until I was sure it had scented me. As I watched, it raised its head and snuffed the air, and then it looked up—and then back down—the road, and took a sideways bound off the street and into the shadows of a nearby walking track overhung by pine-like she-oaks.
What the hey?
It stayed on the tarmac making up the combined bike and pedestrian path, trotting swiftly until it reached the first bend, and then it took another sidewards bound, that landed it four metres off the path, looking back towards the road. I watched the tilt of its head, glad I was screened by a fine film of she-oak needles as well as gum leaves.
Whatever it was up to, it was being Hella cautious about it.
I stayed up in the tree, following the ghost-white shimmer of its fur as it doubled back towards the bridge. That was curious—as far as I knew the portal to the Other Realms only worked one way, and that was the side of the bridge I was on. The side under the she-oaks… well, I hadn’t thought to try coming through that way.
When I couldn’t’ see the unicorn’s ghostly outline, anymore, I scanned the area for anyone else who might be watching, and then slid over the edge of the branch, letting myself dangle by my fingertips, before dropping to the ground. Straightening up, I dusted myself off, and looked around, again. Still no-one—not even the guy across the road, and he seemed to see everything.
Well, if he wasn’t out watching the unicorn, then he wouldn’t be out watching me, either, now, would he?
I walked across the road and down the path under the she-oaks. It wasn’t hard to find the unicorn’s trail. Like big horses, those things weighed close to half a tonne. It was a bit hard to hide the divots it had left behind when landing. The only thing it had managed to do was stop anyone from finding its back trail.
And why, I wondered, would it want to do that?
The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t like it. Unicorns usually travelled in threes or fours, and they almost always travelled with a pixie or ten. This one had been completely alone, and was acting like it would like to stay that way. Time to find out why, before it went and got itself into more trouble than even a unicorn could handle.
I let my hands drift down to unclip my holster, checked my body armour was still fastened and hadn’t come adrift because I’d caught it on something while climbing the tree—and I kept moving towards the bridge as I did. Unlike the other side, the arch nearest the path was almost perpetually in shadow, but the unicorn tracks led past the first arch, and under the second. Keeping a careful eye on the near arch, I followed.
There weren’t many reasons a unicorn would be prancing about on its own—and fewer still for one dancing down the middle of an urban street mid-morning. This had been the third time this week, and twice had been enough to alert me that something was wrong. I’d left a message for my partner, since she’d headed out early to chase down a lead on the latest bunch of dust-runners in our jurisdiction. Nothing like everything happening at once.
Leilani would get it—and she’d be pissed that I hadn’t told her about the unicorn when I first saw it. She could just live with that; after the first time I’d told her about seeing a unicorn, she’d earned some caution. And she needed to own that, elf or not.
I pinged the station.
“Tell Lei, I’m heading in the second arch on the other side of the Steg’s Bridge. She can follow the unicorn tracks.”
In the background I heard what might have been raised voices, but I didn’t have time. Three times, right? That was a magic number in the Otherworld. Sometimes it was a lucky one in this world, too. My only question was who was about to get lucky: me, the unicorn, or whoever had called it.
I walked under the bridge, making sure to put my feet in a unicorn print every step of the way. Sometimes the magic couldn’t be replicated. This way, I’d be using the unicorn’s intention to take me wherever it had gone. I sniffed the air.
There was only a faint smell of horse to tell me a unicorn had even been here, but what I was really glad to note was that there was no fetid stench to indicate a troll. Not yet, anyway. I moved under the bridge, taking one step after another, in the unicorn’s prints, all the while keeping an eye on what I could see of the other side. I didn’t want to come out in the same world I’d started in, especially as I didn’t think that’s what the unicorn was trying to achieve.
It was a relief to see the outside world waver, shuddering into darkness before being replaced by a view of some other place entirely. I crept forward, one hand on the butt of my pistol as I slide-stepped to the exit. The unicorn’s hoof prints kept going, but I stopped still, and looked.
I don’t know what I expected to see, but I wasn’t ready for a Kombi-van parked beside the glass-like surface of a very large, still pool, a sizeable tent standing off to one side. The tent was fronted by a small wooden folding table surrounded by folding chairs, while two deck chairs and a large gas barbeque were set to one side. The campsite appeared to be devoid of life, but I couldn’t see the inside of either the tent or the Kombi.
I crept forward trying to see which way the unicorn had gone, not surprised when a sudden high-pitched neigh tore through the air. Glancing back, I noticed that the tunnel seemed darker than it should have been, but was otherwise still. When nothing moved at the campsite, I slid forward, remembering to twist my head and look up as I emerged from beneath another bridge, in another world.
Coming out into the sunlight, I noticed that the light on this side of the bridge was fading, and that ribbons of colour decked the sky. Nightfall, the perfect time for treachery. The unicorn screamed, again, and I forgot the shadows, forgot the open cave and the empty campsite, and ran towards the sound.
I might not know why the unicorn was here, but I didn’t care; I wasn’t going to let it come to any more harm than it had already found. The lake lay to one side of the camp, but a forest rose on the other, all tall trees clustered thickly together. With trunks like pillars, and the gaps between clogged by bushes, I couldn’t see a way forward—until I remembered the unicorn’s tracks.
They acted like a path, their shadowed divots clear, even in the dying light, even in the cavern-like darkness under the trees. I still hadn’t worked out what land this might be, and I had no idea who dwelt here, but I was pretty sure I was about to find out.
The unicorn’s trail led directly into the forest, the space between its prints extending as though it had come out from under the bridge and started to run. That suited me fine. As I sprinted forward, out of the dusk and into an early night, I lost the trail, but it didn’t matter. I could hear the unicorn up ahead.
Whatever was happening, it wasn’t going down without a fight. I pulled my pistol clear as the narrow trail gave way to a more open space—and, there, sweeping its horn in a deadly arc, even as it lashed out with its hooves, the unicorn fought against those who sought to contain it.
I came to a scrambling halt, dropping into a bent-kneed firing position, ready to run or fight, whichever was needed most.
“Let him go!” I screamed, and all heads turned towards me.
All except the unicorn’s; he took the opportunity to down a distracted opponent, striking down two more before reversing in the direction of my voice. I took two steps to the side so it had space to reach the path—and so that it didn’t block my line of fire, because the things that had ambushed it…
I don’t think I’d ever seen their like, not in the human dimension, anyway.
They, for their part, seemed more amused than afraid, although I noted that one or two knew what the pistol was. Their eyes touched warily on it, and they flinched when I aimed it in their direction.
“What is it you seek, human?”
Well, from the way he said it, the name of my race was not a compliment. I let my lips curl into a snarl.
“My friend,” I said, although the unicorn and I had never made that acquaintance.
The creature’s eyebrows lifted, and it tilted its head. The unicorn didn’t take its attention from the creatures in front of us, but the closest ear flicked back, and it snorted.
“I wasn’t aware we’d left any of its friends behind.”
And it was my turn to feel uncertain. Just what in all of Hades had I stumbled into? I looked from one of the monsters to the next. All were tall, and had a form similar to the other underworld fae, but that’s where the semblance ended.
These had flesh the colour of sunburnt brick or ripe persimmons, or a storm-lit sunset, hair like coal or ice, and eyes as dark and pupil-less as any demon’s. Thorns formed a double ridge down the backs of their arms, and their feet looked more reptilian than elven, right down to the large claw protruding from the back of their heels.
“Then you can give them back, too!” I snapped, and took one hand off the pistol, so I could gesture at the ground in front of me. “Here. And now.”
They might have laughed at that, but the unicorn gave a low rumbling whinny, and their smiles died.
“He was supposed to bring his herd in exchange for the pixies,” they said, and I felt my skin grow cold, refused to let the fear show in my eyes.
His entireherd? What had ever made them think the unicorn would do a thing like that?
“Why?” I asked, making it a demand.
“We need stock,” came the reply, and unicorn neighed a soft denial.
Somehow I didn’t think these guys meant mounts, and I certainly hoped they didn’t mean meat, but what other form of stock they might nee—
“Breeding stock,” their spokesman said, as though reading my mind.
Oh. I didn’t know what to say to that, heard footsteps on the trail behind me in the silence that followed. Before I could respond to that, the unicorn pivoted and lashed out with both hind legs, taking out the nearest elf… demon? before sidling away so it could watch both its attackers and whatever was approaching down the path.
I didn’t need to see the face above the hunting rifle, or the steady aim of the HK held by another familiar opponent to know I was hopelessly outclassed. The unicorn gave a soft whicker, its ears pricked, its eyes on me. I lowered the pistol, heard swift steps as the rifleman came over, his hand held out, demanding the weapon, even as he kept his weapon shouldered and aimed.
“Dawson,” I said, dangling the pistol from my fingers so he could take it.
“Harper,” he replied. “Put ’em on your head, and tell your pet to stand down.”
I looked over at the unicorn, and it moved to stand beside me, resting the lower half of its face against my side, its horn protruding out in front of my chest.
“Sorry, boy,” I said. “We tried.”
He snorted, and turned, taking me around with him until we faced the direction of what I’d decided were thorn elves. Their leader watched, no expression on his face, no hint of feeling in his eyes.
“Why did you come?”
“To find my friend,” I said, and the elf nearest me stepped in and drove a fist into my gut.
The thorned ridge running across its knuckles slammed into my body armour, and some of the impact got through, making me grunt. A second elf approached the unicorn, a halter of braided vines in his hand. The unicorn snorted, but allowed it to slip the halter over his head.
When it was on, the beast gave a great sigh, and followed the tug of the swiftly attached lead rope. I went to walk with him, but a strong, red hand on my shoulder stopped me, and all I could do was watch as the unicorn was led through an opening in the rock wall on the opposite side of the clearing. As soon as its tail had disappeared through the opening, the lead elf turned to Dawson.
“Bring the payment. You will have your dust by dawn.”
“If you let us film their end, we will double the fee.”
“Film?”
And Dawson held up his phone.
“We capture the images of their end in this device, and store them so we can watch them die long after they are gone.”
“Show me.”
Dawson safetied his rifle, and passed it to his partner, Hill, if I remembered correctly. The elves watched him, and I realised that none of them were holding weapons. Not a single one. How in Hades had they been such a threat to the unic—
Seconds later, I was on my knees, my own scream echoing in my ears, and Dawson paused in his journey to their leader. I lifted my head, and pushed back to my feet. The unicorn had been fighting that, on his own, and he’d stood for longer than I’d managed.
“The unicorn knew what to expect,” the leader said, as Dawson held out his mobile for inspection.
I watched the elf switch attention.
“Have him do it again,” Dawson said, pointing at me, and positioning the mobile so it could take a perfect shot of me.
I’d like to say I was expecting the wave of pain the wound itself around my skull and lanced through my brain, that I resisted it, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t. This time, when I lifted my head, Dawson was holding the phone up for the elven leader and showing him how to play the small clip he’d taken. I heard my own scream several times, before the leader smiled.
“Direct me,” he said, and Dawson obliged.
I hit the ground twice more, before the thorn elf was satisfied with his mastery of the device.
“I will take this,” he said. “You will have your images.”
“But...” Dawson began, and the thorn elf held up his hand.
“Of those that enter our halls, none are allowed to return.”
“None?” Dawson looked over at me. “Truly?”
The elf followed his gaze.
“None,” he said, and I did my best to keep the fear from my face, to still the roiling in my gut.
Dawson gave me a speculative stare.
“I don’t suppose we could barter for more video…” he began, and the thorn elf scowled.
“Another time. Make good on this payment, first.”
“Just don’t kill her first,” Dawson said, shifting his attention back to the elf. “There’s folk will pay good money to see it.”
I ran the number of arrests I’d made and dust rings I’d broken up through my head, and figured he was right. It was just a darn shame I wasn’t going to be able to take him down with me.
“Indeed,” the elf answered, and then waved him back towards the trail. “You can go. Do not return until this time, tomorrow. Do not return without your payment.”
Dawson went. He looked at the mobile in the thorn elf’s hand, and, for a moment, I thought he might be going to ask for it back. I also saw when he decided that would be a bad idea, and that he should just go. I almost panicked at the sight of it, but grabbed the fear and held it tight.
It’s not that I liked Dawson, but he was human, and these guys so were not. It wasn’t even because Dawson wouldn’t hurt me if he got half a chance, because he very much would; the Heavens knew I’d ruined enough of his plans for him to think I deserved it. No, it was just because I didn’t want to be left behind.
I turned, and started to walk after him. It was a fool’s dream, but it was worth a try. It was also very short-lived. This time, it was a firm grip on the arm that pulled me up short, instead of the blinding pain that had been meted out before.
“This way.”
I hadn’t known that more than their leader could speak English, and tried to shrug the hand away, but felt thorns emerge, tearing through my shirt and into flesh. After that, I followed, coming to a stop before their leader.
They were a lot taller up close than they’d looked from the clearing’s edge, and they were heavier than your average elf, broader across the chest, with more heavily muscled arms. I forced myself to raise my head and look their leader in the eye. It was a lot harder than I’d thought it would be, since every instinct I had was telling me to be afraid, to not antagonise, to look away, look down, to wait for death. I pushed the impulses back, and looked him in the face, instead.
“I am an officer of the Paranormal Operations Squad,” I said, hating the way my voice shook. “We keep the peace in the human lands. Dust trafficking is forbidden. Dawson will be indicted.”
The thorn elf didn’t blink. He met my gaze with a solemn gaze, studying my face with fathomless eyes. I caught the glimmer of a clear membrane flicking across his eye, in an almost invisible blink, and then he raised his hand and caught my chin between a curled forefinger and thumb.
“In these lands, I rule,” he said, “and we trade with whom we please. We are not subject to your human laws.”
Again I heard that slight twist given to the name ‘human’, but the elf ignored my reaction. He tilted his head from one side to the other studying the lines of my face, and then moving his head as though looking down past the armour to my cloth-clad legs and booted feet.
“It is hard to see your form beneath this,” he said, rapping the side of my armour with the knuckles of his other hand, “but your face promises strength and youth.”
I watched his eyes, trying to follow his gaze without being able to see where it went. From the way he moved his head back and forth, I figured he was taking another tour down my legs before he headed back to my face. There really wasn’t anything I could say to that, so I let him break the silence.
“Dust is not all we traffick in, and there is a market in the otherworld for human stock,” he said, appearing to focus on my face
I stiffened, trying to jerk my chin out of his grip, but it tightened. I caught the smallest hint of thorn, and froze.
“Intelligence is not always a desirable trait,” he said, “but someone looking for troll hybrids…”
And I froze, found my voice, sought to erase the tremble.
“That, too, is forbidden.”
His lips curved into something resembling a smile.
“Not in mylands, it’s not.”
Well, there was that.
“My people will barter…” I started, lifting my hand towards the pocket that held my phone.
He captured it before it was halfway there, holding it still.
“Your people?”
“The Squad.”
As I said it, a roar thundered out from the direction of the bridge, and the remaining thorn elves moved to interpose themselves between us and the path leading out of the woods. He let go of my chin, keeping his hold on my wrist.
“There is no time. Even if you were to contact them, they would not be able to get through. The way to our lands is very well guarded.”
I remembered the Kombi by the lake, the comfortable camp, and wondered if the elves had warned Dawson and his sidekick. It was as though the elf could read my mind.
“Their camp is warded. They have been warned not to leave it until an hour after dawn.”
Oh, they had, had they? Well, all I had to do was make it back to the camp before the trolls left their bridge, and I’d be warded, too.
“Not against us, you wouldn’t—and we have a pact with the trolls.”
Which was when I realised that he really had been answering my thoughts—and that he hadn’t let go of my hand. I glanced down, noting the firmness of his grip. Well, that couldn’t be good.
“But I don’t want to go with you,” I said.
It was worth a try. There was no humour in his face when he replied.
“So few of our captives, do.”
I pulled back, trying to pull my hand out of his, as the trolls roared, again. This time, when he looked towards the path, I followed the turn of his head—and saw his guards casting him anxious looks, their hands flexing as though preparing to seize weapons. So much for having a pact.
“Trolls are unpredictable,” he explained, and turned back to the cliff face, wrapping an arm around my back and pulling my hand across his body as he kept a hold of it. I felt the briefest touch of thorns, but they did not puncture skin: a warning, then. “Time we went.”
I tried to dig my heels in, to twist out of his grip, willing to risk the trolls than an eternity in fae custody, but he lifted my feet from the ground, and began to run. I tried to reach my phone with my one free hand. I didn’t know what signal I had now, but I was betting it was better than the one I’d have from under the cliff.
This time, he didn’t stop me. I doubt he even noticed. Good thing, too. I didn’t try to take the phone out of my pocket, just felt for the buttons to activate it, and hoped Leilani could pick up the call. We’d built-in the distress signal a while back, but this was the first time I’d used it. There was no way of telling if it would even work.
We hit the wall at a quick jog, moving through a curtain of stone like it wasn’t there, and continuing down a broad, well-lit corridor. Frankly, I was disappointed; I’d been expecting something more magical. The guards came in behind us, and none of them stopped.
I heard another troll roar as the rock parted to let them through, and then I thought I heard something else.
What was that?
For a second, I thought I’d imagined it, but then the elves slid to a halt, and pivoted, and this time I did see weapons—long blades of light, silver shields pulled out of nowhere, armour that grew around them as though it was built of air and light. I found myself dropped and shoved unceremoniously aside.
At any other time, I might have tried to escape, but not this time. I knew the sound of a silver bugle when I heard one… even if I couldn’t work out why any prince of the Sidhe court would be calling on territory that was not his own. They usually preferred diplomacy, and that played behind a curtain denying human scrutiny.
I picked myself up from the floor and moved so that I was behind the lead elf, but where he could see me. I’d been on enough operations to not want to be a casualty of friendly fire… or, in this case, well, I wasn’t sure what I’d call it, but I didn’t want to die by it, either.
The movement earned me a slight shift of the head, and I knew he was angling his gaze so he could see both me and what lay ahead.
“Stay!”
I snorted. Like Hell, I would.
I’m not sure what the reaction would have been, if there had not been another troll roar, followed by a clash of metal and the sound of cascading stone—and then the bugle rang loud and clear, and hoofbeats rolled down the tunnel like thunder. I didn’t know what these guys would do, but I knew how most crooks would react in their situation, and I ducked under the arm that snaked out towards me, slipping out of reach before I could become a bargaining tool.
“Nice try, sucker.”
He had no response for that, because the riders kept coming. I moved back so that they could see me past the elves blocking their path. I’d always associated silver bugles with our allies, and I saw no reason to change that, now. I could only hope they’d come for the unicorn, too.
I wished Dawson hadn’t taken my gun. I could really do with a weapon, right now, and somehow I doubted the elves would hand me one of the things they’d conjured out of nothing. I figured that whatever was coming, my allies would want to speak to the ruler of the lands they’d just ridden into, or to get a hold of him so they had a bargaining point of their own.
And that was something I could help them with.
The horsemen weren’t mucking about. I caught a glimpse of troll gore spattered over mounts and riders, and then I caught a high, shrieking neigh that did not come from the horses in front. In fact, if I was right, that didn’t come from any horse. The neigh came, again, a wild ringing bugle that echoed past me, seeking an answer from the tunnel’s depths.
Oh, shit.
The unicorn’s herd had arrived.
I watched the thorn-elf guards take a stand, saw one turn back as though he’d grab his leader, and then the foremost riders hit and there was no time to think. The leader had braced up in the centre of the tunnel, but he was no longer looking at me. I took a chance and charged, hitting him as hard as I could in the back, driving a foot down onto his calf, just below the knee.
His leg bent under the pressure, but I’d hit too hard and he fell forward. Didn’t matter. I rode his fall, and landed on his back, feeling the sharp edges of his scaled armour cutting into my knees. After that, it was a matter of hooking my arm around his throat and hanging on. Nice that the shield trapped one of his arms in front, and he fought to keep a hold of his sword.
Made choking him down that much easier.
The sound of battle rang out in front, but so did the thunder of hooves. I looked up. The riders had engaged the bodyguards, slipping from their mounts’ backs to take on their foes. Their horses stood where they’d halted, providing a partial barrier to the storm of white galloping through the cliff-face in their wake.
Again, that bone-chilling neigh, and, this time, an answer from further in. More cries joined the chorus, and I tightened my grip on the elf leader’s throat, and crouched low over him, relieved when the unicorns parted like a wave around me.
“You can thank me, later,” I whispered, putting my mouth close to my captive’s ear, “because you’d be a smear on the floor without me.”
He coughed something that didn’t sound complementary, so I tightened my grip. The last of the unicorns thundered past, and I looked up. Most of the bodyguards were down, and being secured. Well, that was going to go across like a tonne. The elf with the silver bugle dangling around his neck was one I recognised, and I wondered where his girlfriend was, because she was usually right beside him when it came to slaughtering trolls, regardless of how much she hated being betrothed.
Funny that.
He looked over at me, and then registered who I was kneeling on, and trying to choke. He had just started towards us, when one of the remaining bodyguards saw what I was doing and knocked aside the blade being held at his throat.
I heard metal ring against metal, saw the strength of the blow he landed on his captor, and watched as he pivoted and charged in my direction. This was awkward. I crouched lower, hoping he’d miss, but I moved too soon, and he slammed into my side. I figured it would be better to let go than break my prisoner’s neck. Much easier if we had a living leader to do diplomacy with.
Can’t say hitting the floor with I don’t know how many kilos of angry armoured elf on top of me was a good thing, but I was a bit too busy dodging fists, and trying to keep the roll going in an attempt to end up on top and not underneath to care. I guess it didn’t matter what race it was: nothing pissed a bodyguard off more than seeing his principal having the life choked out of him.
I didn’t quite make it. Something to do with mass and what not, that and the guard had had a lot more practice at dislodging attackers than I had in being bulldozed sideways off someone I was subduing. That was something we hadn’t covered in training. Thing was, Leilani hadn’t been involved in the first wave of attacks. She’d come in the second, and she was itching for a fight.
She must have followed my attacker across the corridor, because she swept him off me before he could get a good grip on me. By the time I’d realised she’d saved me, she was busy slamming the guard’s head into the floor, so I looked around, trying to see what had happened to the elf lord I’d been sitting on. It was almost a relief to see him staggering to his feet, right up until I registered the sound of returning hoofbeats.
Last time I checked, unicorns weren’t into diplomacy. Vengeance, yes. They had that one down pat—but diplomacy was for the elves. I rolled half-way to my feet and dived, reaching out to wrap my arms around the elf lord’s legs and bring him back to the ground. After that, I tried to pull him under me, working my way along his body in the hope I could cover enough of him to protect him from being trampled or gored as the angry beasts made their way past.
“Stay down!” I shouted, and could hear the Lord of Winter shouting something in the fae tongue, but whether it was at the elf lord, the unicorns, or me, I couldn’t tell. I just wrapped myself around my former captor, and hoped it would be enough.
It was a relief to hear the first break in the rhythm of the approaching hooves and see the large, white form go sailing over me. I think the thorn elf understood what was happening at about the same time, because he stopped struggling and went perfectly still in my arms—and we lay like that for several very long heartbeats, until the unicorns had passed, and I dared untangle myself from around him.
This time, I wasn’t quick enough to move out of reach, and he’d dragged me in front of himself and put a dagger to my throat before I had time to get clear. I might have thought about calling him ungrateful, but I had other things to worry about.
“Nothing personal,” he said, and I was very careful to think nothing in reply, to focus all my attention on the elves who’d moved to close the corridor once the unicorns had passed.
Across from us, Leilani had secured her prisoner. I rolled my eyes sideways enough to see that she’d shoved the barrel of her gun up under his chin, and was dragging him around to where his lord could see him. I wasn’t sure how much good that would do the bodyguard, given just how spiteful…
The blade of the dagger pressed against my skin, and I remembered that this elf, at least, could hear my thoughts. It wasn’t something I could warn anyone about, anyway. I have to admit, the Lord of Winter’s opening line was a bit of a show-stopper.
“Lord of Thorns, we come in peace,” he said.
I stared at him, but he ignored me, focussing all his attention on the elf lord whose domain he’d invaded. I felt the blade press a little harder against my throat, and wondered if elven magic would be enough to patch the kind of hole it would leave, or even if it would be fast enough, but the Lord of Winter wasn’t finished.
“We thank you for offering the Seshara Tribe protection in their time of need, and for their safe return, and thank you, also, for the return of the unicorn stallion that protects both their tribe and their herd.”
He stopped, giving the Lord of Thorns time to formulate a response, and I felt the blade ease, the thin welling of blood it left in its wake. I didn’t relax. Now the knife wasn’t at my throat, I didn’t know where it might end up. Staying very, very still seemed like a good choice—or, at least, slightly better than driving an elbow into his armoured midriff. Best not to disrupt the peace talks, right?
I felt the elf lord’s hand tangle in my hair, did not like the coldness of his voice when he replied.
“That does not explain why you still hold my guards as prisoners.”
The Lord of Winter let his lips bend into a smile that was as deliberate as the rest of his carefully choreographed word dance.
“It seemed the best way to avoid a diplomatic incident.”
I could feel the tension thrumming through the Lord of Thorns as he considered his response, and I couldn’t fault him. If someone had just kicked in the front door of my home, taken my men prisoner, and taken back something I’d wanted to use to turn a profit, I might not have been feeling too charitable, either. But, if they were also a lot more powerful than I was, and were offering peace instead of threatening vengeance for me having taken the disputed property to start with, I might accept it… and plan exactly how I might get even, later, when I had more of an advantage.
It was almost a relief when I felt some of the tension leave him, and he pushed me forward, letting go of my hair and letting me stumble towards the Lord of Winter. I regained my balance, straightening up as I kept walking forward, listening as he spoke.
“This is true. Thank you for the unexpected honour of your visit. I hope you will understand that we have no accommodation fit to receive you, and can only to offer to escort you back to the human realms. I pray you will not take offence.”
I kept walking, forcing myself not to rush, even as the Lord of Winter signalled that his guards should release those belonging to the Lord of Thorns. I dreaded our paths crossing, feared that one of those nearest would do something rash, but I didn’t stop moving up the corridor.
It was also hard to resist the urge to look back, and see what had happened to Leilani. To my surprise, not one of the guards passing by me lashed out in vengeance for the insult I’d offered when I’d attempted to choke their lord into submission—and Leilani joined me shortly afterwards. The Lord of Winter dipped his chin in acknowledgement as we passed, but he didn’t take his eyes from the lord whose realm he had invaded.
“If you would lead the way,” he said, when Leilani and I had reached the two horses at the rear, “we would appreciate your escort.”
I stifled the thought that if the thorn elves led the way, they would be less likely to stab us in the back. Instead, I copied the Sidhe as they stood aside for the thorn elves to pass, and then we followed them out—walking behind them as we led our horses through the cliff walls the Lord of Winter had so easily breached. We also followed as they led us down a narrow trail that was much better defined than it had been when I’d walked it earlier. Finally, they led us under the stone arch of the bridge.
I glanced at the clearing where the Kombi camp had stood, as we passed. It appeared to be completely empty, and I wondered if that was a result of the thorn elves’ wards, or if the Lord of Winter had removed Dawson and his minion back to the human realm where they could be charged. It was something I could always ask later.
We passed by several piles of rubble that I did not remember seeing on the way in, and I remembered the bestial roars I’d heard just before the Lord of Thorns had forced me into his realm. So much for his well-guarded entry and pact with the trolls.
When we reached the she-oaks beyond, I was surprised to see the first brush of dawn lending colour to the dew drops sparkling on their leaves, and remembered that time moved differently in the other lands. I watched as the Lord of Winter bade the Lord of Thorns farewell, and then noticed the herd of white waiting on the walking track.
The sparkle from the dewdrops was nothing to the sparkle coming from the pixies adorning every mane and forelock—the very silent pixies, who watched the departing thorn elves with the intensity of cats observing a mouse hole. They stayed silent, until the thorn elves had disappeared back beneath the bridge, and the Lord of Winter had mounted and turned his mount towards the path—and then they cheered.
The Lord of Winter acknowledged them with a gracious bow of his head, and then rode up onto the walking track, and guided his horse towards the other side of the road.
“Come,” he said. “There is room in my domain for you.”
Four of his guards rode up beside him, forming a wedge around him. The unicorns snorted and whickered, and the pixies replied in a chorus of tiny voices that I didn’t quite understand. Just when I thought they would move off, the Lord of Winter looked back to where Leilani and I stood beneath the trees. I watched as he raised his hand to the centre of his brow, and bowed his head, again, in our direction.
Leilani returned the gesture, and he turned away, leading the unicorns, the pixies, and his bodyguards up the path, over the road, and back down under the bridge—returning to his homelands before the sun had fully risen. The horses we’d led back ran after them, falling in beside the elves, and following their stablemates without a backward glance.
My partner and I walked after them out to the road, where Leilani had parked our four-wheel drive. We made sure we were in the big vehicle with the doors locked, before the elves had vanished beneath the bridge. As soon as we were sure they were all safely gone, we drove back to the station.
As Leilani killed the engine, I leant back, and gave a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should never…”
She shushed me.
“If you hadn’t, we’d be down a tribe of pixies and trying to explain to a very upset Sidhe lord why we had failed to act when we had the chance. You did okay.” She paused. “The paper work’s going to be a bitch, though.”
I straightened up and reached for the door. The paperwork was always a bitch.
We walked into the station, together, and I was surprised to see both day and night shift still at their desks. Heads were raised as we came in, and then they stood and started clapping. I might have about faced and walked back out, except my partner grabbed me by the arm, flipped our colleagues off, and steered me through to the chief’s office, shutting the door very firmly behind us.
“What was that all about?” I asked, and the chief started to chuckle.
“What?” I repeated, and he waved at Leilani in a gesture that ordered her to explain.
My partner laid a hand on my shoulder.
“You know what I said about paperwork?”
And I nodded, not sure where she was going with this, but almost certain I wasn’t going to like it.
Her arm tightened, and then she sat down in one of the seats in front of the chief’s desk, pushing me into the seat beside her.
“Let me see,” she said. “You managed to rescue a tribe of pixies, free a unicorn guardian, piss off the lord of an entire clan of fey, discover a new portal to the Otherworld, andput yourself into debt with the Lord of Winter. That’s not a bad night’s work, Harper—even for you!”
Well, shit! That wasa lot of paperwork. I’d be lucky to see the outside of the station before the month was out—and if the Lord of Winter decided to call in his debt…
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Harper & the Unicorn is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/38rqqL.
You can also find Kristine Kathryn Rusch's latest free short story over on her blog: kriswrites.com. Why don't you go and check it out?
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