The Secret Of The Unicorn Queen - Sun Blind Read online

  With thanks to Suzanne Weyn and Stephanie St. Pierre

  A Fawcett Columbine Book

  Published by Ballantine Books

  Copyright © 1988 by Parachute Press, Inc

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  ISBN: 0-449-90297-8

  Cover design by Dale Fiorillo

  Illustration by Rowena Morrill

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition: November 1988

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  BOOK TWO

  Sun Blind

  GWEN HANSEN

  FAWCETT COLUMBINE GIRLS ONLY

  New York

  1

  Hunted

  Someone shook Sheila McCarthy roughly from her sleep. "Wake up, we're moving out!"

  With a groan, Sheila turned over and tried to burrow beneath the thin wool cloth that covered her. A moment later the blanket was pulled off and strong arms grabbed her, lifting her into a sitting position.

  The dark-haired boy who held her spoke in a quiet, urgent voice. "Nanine has seen Dynasian's men in the village. We can't stay here any longer. We're breaking camp now.

  "Where are we going?" Sheila mumbled, trying not to sound as groggy as she felt.

  Darian sounded weary when he answered. "South, to Ansar, I think. I just wish that for once we could do this during the day."

  “It'd be a change," Sheila agreed. In the month since she had been riding with Illyria, the Unicorn Queen, she had lost count of the number of times she had been wak­ened in the middle of the night to flee the tyrant Dyna­sian's soldiers. ''All right,'' she said, as the familiar sense of danger set in, "I'm awake."

  In spite of the situation Darian sounded amused. "Well, then, stop looking so sleepy." He released her and stood up. "Get your things together and be ready to ride.”

  "I'll be ready in a minute," Sheila promised, but Da­rian had already moved on and was kneeling by the fire, gathering a battered assortment of copper pots and cooking utensils.

  Sheila shivered in the cold night air and. drew her worn blue tunic more tightly around her. She had arrived in this world wearing jeans and a shirt. Now the jeans were frayed cutoffs and her shirt, torn in a scuffle in the city of Campora, had been replaced by one of Darian's old tunics. It was big on her (Darian had almost collapsed laughing when she first tried it on and it fell to her knees) and needed mending, but it was woven of a soft, warm material. She adjusted the tunic, fastened a leather belt around her waist, and slipped a light sword into the sheath that hung from it.

  Automatically she rolled up the wool blanket and be­gan to scatter the pile of leaves she had used as a pillow. For the thousandth time she asked herself how she, a com­pletely normal fourteen-year-old girl from the twentieth century, had wound up in this strange world of unicorns and warriors. You fell into Dr. Reit's time machine, that's how, she answered herself irritably, unable to stop the fa­miliar wave of homesickness. No matter what adventures she had in this world, it seemed she always longed to re­turn to her own. How could she forget her family and friends? And how could she let herself face the truth: unless Dr. Reit found a way to get her back to her world, she would never see any of them again. So stop worrying over something you can't change, she told herself. There are more important things to deal with right now.

  Breaking camp meant leaving no trace that the uni­corn riders had ever been in this place. On the night that Illyria and her warriors had freed the unicorns that Dy­nasian held captive, the tyrant had set a price on their heads. Sheila, who in her own time had never done any­thing more criminal than cut study hall, was now an offi­cial “enemy of the empire." If it weren't so real, it would be funny.

  She used her hands to rake through the grass so there was no longer an imprint where she had lain. Around her, by the light of the dying fire, she could see the other riders working swiftly. And in the distance she could hear the soft, impatient whinnying of the unicorns. The animals knew they were moving out. They always knew.

  Quickly Sheila gathered up the wool blanket and grabbed for the two things that had become her constant companions. The first, a light wooden spear with an iron tip, was from the world of the Unicorn Queen. The second item came from her own world. It was a simple green nylon backpack, filled with things that were ordinary in her own time—a tape player, a flashlight, a mirror, some bubble gum—but were considered "magic" here. Even among the riders of the Unicorn Queen there were some who still called her "sorceress" because of the back­pack.

  Stuffing her blanket into the pack, Sheila crossed the wooded camp. The moon was only about half full, but the night was clear and the stars shone like a white swath across the sky. Though Sheila hadn't trained herself to move through the darkness the way Illyria's warriors had, she could see fairly well. That, of course, meant that Dy­nasian's men would also be able to see without trouble. It was a good night to hunt fugitives.

  "Where's your saddle?" demanded a girl, coming up behind Sheila.

  "Hidden with the others." Sheila tried to keep her voice calm. She was already feeling panicky at the thought of Dynasian's soldiers closing in on them. The last thing she needed was an argument with Dian.

  "Well, find it, then, and stop standing around!" Dian ordered. Sixteen years old and the second youngest in II­lyria's band, Dian had been resentful of Sheila from the start. ''Dynasian's men will probably be here by the time you finally locate your saddle," she went on. “Do you think we have all night to wait for you?"

  "I wasn't standing around-" Sheila began indig­nantly.

  "Hush, both of you!" Myno, Illyria's lieutenant, clamped a powerful hand on each girl's shoulder and spoke in a fierce, low tone. "This is no time for arguing, and if either one of you lives till tomorrow, I swear I'll have your hides for it. Now, you know what you have to do. Don't make me speak to you again."

  Both girls mumbled apologies, and Myno released them with a rough shake.

  Sheila glared at Dian. Even when they were running for their lives, Dian managed to find a way to get her in trouble.

  "You've done it now," Darian said matter-of-factly. He held out the worn leather saddle that Sheila had used ever since the unicorn Morning Star had accepted her as its rider. "I'd rather face Dynasian himself than an angry Myno."

  Sheila took the saddle from him with a sigh. She was never sure whether Darian, Illyria's handsome sixteen-year­-old brother, was the most intriguing boy she had ever met or the most irritating. Sometimes he had an absolute tal­ent for saying the thing she least wanted to hear.

  Don't worry," he assured her, and she couldn't tell if he was teasing or not. "Illyria's never let Myno kill one of her riders."

  Darian led the way into the sheltered glade where the others waited. As always, Sheila's breath caught at the sight of the warriors. In the center of the clearing, Illyria, her long silver-blond hair half-caught in thick braids, sat tall and regal on the magnificent Quiet Storm. Quiet Storm had been the first unicorn to appear in Illyria's homeland. Now his silver coat and horn shone in the starlight, as if he were somehow part of it—a creature spun out of stars and moon.

  On Illyria's right, Myno, her sword drawn, sat astride a palomino unicorn. On her left was Kara, the archer, on a dark brown unicorn with a white star across his fore­head. Behind them Sheila saw the other riders: Pelu, the healer; Nanine, the regal black princess who had rebelled and fled her own court; and Dian. A small herd of wild unicorns who ran with Illyria's warriors
moved restlessly among the mounted riders All of the unicorns and riders looked very beautiful—and very deadly.

  Illyria watched, her gaze calm, as Sheila and Darian joined them. A month ago, when Sheila had first stum­bled through Dr. Reit's time machine into this parallel universe, she hadn't even known the front end of a saddle from the back. Now her hands worked deftly to slip the saddle over Morning Star's back and fasten the soft girth around the animal's stomach. In one smooth movement she lifted herself onto the unicorn's back and ran a hand through Morning Star's silky black mane. Then, with her free hand, she reached for the spear she had set in the ground. Beside her Darian and Dian drew their own spears. At Illyria's signal the small band of warriors raised their weapons in a brief salute, then followed the unicorn queen into the night.

  Illyria always chose her course carefully, and now she led her band along a tangled path of narrow back roads that wound south. They were riding inland, far from the busy ports and towns along the coast. Sheila guessed that their route to Ansar would probably take twice as long as the main roads. Then again, if they followed the main roads, they probably wouldn't survive the night. Dyna­sian's men seemed to own the coast.

  The cool night wind rushed through Sheila's hair as the road widened and the unicorns broke into a full gal­lop, their hoofs barely touching the ground. They were impossibly light when they ran, and Sheila sometimes thought if they could only go a little faster, they would be flying. Her pack bounced gently against her back, and she leaned forward in the saddle, winding her left hand more tightly through Morning Star's mane. Although unicorns accepted saddles, they were far too wild to let anyone fit them with bridle or bit. Like the other riders, Sheila had learned to hold on to the thick, silky mane with one hand and carry her spear in the other, She still considered it a miracle that she managed to stay on at all, and suspected that most of the credit belonged to Morning Star.

  The land rose up in a series of low hills, and the road narrowed again. At a signal from Illyria the unicorns slowed to a canter, and the riders fell in two by two. Sheila found Darian, who had been riding ahead near Illyria, at her side.

  "Any sign of Dynasian's men?" she asked.

  Darian shook his head. "Not yet. Which doesn't mean they haven't set a trap for us ahead. And if they have, we'll all ride straight into it, I don't know why we don't split up."

  "Did you suggest it to Illyria?"

  "Every time we go through this," he said, barely concealing his impatience. “I’ve told her I'm willing to go ahead as a scout, and that we should move in at least two groups. But my sister doesn't believe in splitting up her warriors when we're being pursued."

  "Well," Sheila said uncertainly, “I'm sure Illyria has her reasons. I don't think I'd want to face a band of Dy­nasian's men without the others there. I mean, there aren't that many of us. Even when we're all together, there's a good chance we'll be outnumbered by the soldiers,''

  "Exactly," Darian said.

  "What?''

  Darian had the maddening habit of twisting her words around so it sounded as if she were arguing on his side. "We're going to be outnumbered anyway," he said logi­cally, "so why give them the chance to finish us all off at once?"

  "We're not giving anyone a chance to finish us off," said a very firm voice behind him. Illyria, whom Sheila could have sworn was riding at the head of the band, drew Quiet Storm even with Darian's unicorn and stared down at her dark-haired brother. "And when I need advice from a sixteen-year-old cub," she continued in a cold voice "I'll ask for it. Let it go, Darian."

  Darian said nothing but glared back, looking at that moment very much like his sister.

  There was a moment of tense silence.

  "That wasn't fair," Illyria admitted softly. "You've proven yourself a warrior. I shouldn't have called you a-"

  “I'm sorry, too," Darian broke in. He shrugged apol­ogetically. "It's just that I can't even look at a tree any­more without wondering if one of Dynasian's soldiers is hiding behind it."

  "You, too?" Sheila looked at him in amazement. She had been positive she was the only one who was so paranoid. Sure that Dian would laugh her out of the camp, she hadn't dared tell anyone how nervous this whole "en­emy of the state" business was making her,

  "And me," Illyria confessed with a grin. "I'm tired of being hunted, which is why we ride to Ansar. Dynasian holds a fortress there. It's time I brought the hunt home to the hunter's door." Then, without another word, the Unicorn Queen pressed her heels into Quiet Storm and rode on ahead.

  * * *

  Sheila had no idea how long they had been riding. Ever since she had given her watch to Darian, she had been a little fuzzy on time. What had ever made her believe that, like the other riders, she would learn to tell the time from the positions of the sun and stars? Basically, she was only good at recognizing dawn, noon, and sunset, and on over­cast days she lost noon altogether.

  Now the night sky was turning a charcoal gray, and the road was becoming steeper. They were entering the southern mountains, an area known for its hot, dry lands. The trees along the side of the road were thinning already. There had been no sign of Dynasian's men, and the riders' careful pace on the narrow road was deceptively calm. Tired, Sheila let herself be rocked by Morning Star's gentle rhythm, almost forgetting that they were being pursued.

  "No sleeping in the saddle!" called a teasing voice.

  Sheila sat up with a start to find Pelu riding beside her. "Do you think we'll reach Ansar by dawn?" Sheila asked.

  "Not unless it moves itself north. We're a good five days away from the city—and Dynasian's fortress."

  "Oh," Sheila said, though what she really wanted to say was that she was very relieved. She had met Dynasian once before, and what she had seen in his eyes had terri­fied her. She wasn't exactly looking forward to riding straight into his stronghold.

  She couldn't help glancing at Pelu to see if she felt the same way. Pelu looked inexplicably happy.

  "What is it?" Sheila asked, puzzled.

  Pelu pointed overhead. At first Sheila didn't see any­thing. The sun had barely started its ascent and the sky was still dark, but as she looked harder she saw deep shad­ows against the grayness—shadows of birds as large as men.

  "The eagles," Sheila said in awe, "They're back!"

  Pelu nodded, smiling as the harsh cries of the birds began to fill the air. "Illyria will be pleased," she said in a dreamy voice.

  "And you?" Sheila teased.

  Pelu blushed, answering her question.

  "You fell in love with one of Laric's men?" Sheila said, eager for details.

  "Hush!" Pelu's fair skin reddened. "Eagles have a very keen sense of hearing. They can probably hear every word we say.

  "I don't believe this," Sheila muttered. Only in this world did someone have to worry about her boyfriend overhearing her because he happened to be transformed into an eagle and was presently flying overhead.

  Everyone knew eagles didn't fly in flocks, and everyone knew that they didn't grow to the size of men, but the birds who flew overhead were men, enspelled by Mardock, Dynasian's evil sorcerer. In their human form the eagles were a warrior band led by Laric, prince of Perian, Illyria's love. Long ago Laric had angered Dynasian. The result was Mardock's curse: Except for five days and nights of the full moon, Laric and his men were condemned to roam the skies as eagles.

  "Of all the things Mardock could have done, why did he curse them this way?" Sheila wondered aloud.

  Pelu shrugged. "There are two things that matter to Prince Laric—stopping Dynasian and being with Illyria. Mardock's curse ensures that he has little chance of doing either."

  "Then why does Mardock let them become men again under the full moon?"

  "Let them?" Pelu gave an uncharacteristically bitter laugh. "He could not help it. Mardock's powers are weak­est under the full moon, and fortunately, it is under the moon that the powers of Perian are strongest.”

  Sheila had never been clear about Perian. A
ll she knew was that it was another country, entirely outside Dyna­sian's empire. And it was a magical land. She didn't know what sort of powers Laric and his men might have, but Laric had given Illyria Quiet Storm, and there was no doubt that the unicorns were magical creatures.

  "Do you remember Cam?" Pelu asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  Sheila thought back to the night Laric's men had ar­rived in the nick of time to help the riders steal one of Dynasian's ships and escape from Campora with half the captive unicorns aboard. At first she couldn't tell one war­rior from another. They all looked strong and tall and incredibly fierce. But she remembered Cam. He was fair-haired, like Pelu, and had a warm, easy manner.

  "Is he the one you like?" she asked Pelu. The healer nodded, "In Perian his family breeds horses. He says when we have defeated Dynasian, he would like me to visit."

  It was perfect, Sheila thought. Pelu, who loved ani­mals nearly as much as she loved her own life, falling in love with a man who bred horses.

  Overhead the eagles wheeled against the sky, following the unicorns below. One of the golden birds called out in what sounded like harsh, angry protest.

  "Oh, Sheila," Pelu said wistfully, "Mardock's curse is hard on them all. We cannot let Dynasian win."

  * * *

  Dawn had just broken, hotter than any dawn Sheila could remember. The sun was barely on the horizon, and already it felt as if it was ninety degrees. Pelu insisted that the riders stop often to give the unicorns water, and though they all carried leather water flasks, everyone knew that the supply wouldn't last long. Myno had even suggested to Illyria that perhaps there was another route they could take—one in which they would not all die of thirst. But Illyria had just frowned and said that they were going ex­actly as they should.