Into the Land of the Unicorns Read online

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he added. “I just wanted to make it possible to communicate with you. It will be easier for me to heal you if we can speak.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from quavering.

  “Don’t speak out loud! I can’t understand you that way. Just form the thought and send it to me. You’ll need to stay in contact with me, at least for now.”

  Though the horn was already resting on her shoulder, she gingerly set her hand on it for good measure. It was as smooth as the inside of an oyster shell, and pleasantly warm.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  She sensed him receiving the message. I’m talking to a unicorn! she thought, so excited she almost missed his answer.

  “You are in the Cave of the Dimblethum,” he told her. “In the Forest of the Queen, on the edge of the wild, in the world of Luster.”

  “Luster?”

  “The home of the unicorns.”

  For a moment, Cara felt as if she could not think at all. Then the questions came in a flood. “What has happened to me? Who are you? Who is the creature that lives in this cave? How can I get home? Do you know my grandmother? Why did you —”

  “Wait, wait!” interrupted the unicorn. “I can’t possibly answer all those at once. Let’s start with some of the easier ones. My name is Lightfoot. And yours?”

  “Cara.”

  “What has brought you here, Cara? Very few humans can cross the borders of Luster these days.” He paused, then looked at her oddly and repeated, “Very few.” This time the underlying tone of his message was not surprise, but concern.

  She started to tell her story, but found herself lapsing into speech without realizing it. She started again. It was surprisingly hard to only think what she wanted to tell him, and not say it out loud.

  “You’ll get better at it,” he said reassuringly. “Try again.”

  Concentrating, she managed to get through the whole story without slipping into speech more than three or four times. The unicorn looked startled, and somewhat worried, when she mentioned her grandmother’s request that she “Find the Old One.”

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “Go on with your story.”

  She looked at him suspiciously, but continued the tale. When she was done he said, “This is more serious than I realized when the Dimblethum came to fetch me.”

  “The Dimblethum?”

  “Your host and rescuer. You’re resting in his bed right now. He’s a gruff beast, and generally a loner, so he is somewhat disturbed at having you here — though to tell you the truth I think he rather likes you. It’s good for him, if you ask me. Shake him up a bit.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Gathering some herbs to help you regain your strength. I can heal any serious wounds you might have suffered when you were attacked, but recovery involves more than just healing. Crossing from your world to Luster probably took its toll on you as well. You’ll need to rest for a few days. As to the healing — do you have specific wounds I can tend to?”

  In the excitement of meeting the unicorn, she had nearly forgotten the pain in her side. But his question reminded her of the wound, and at once she felt it stab through her.

  “Here,” she said, pointing.

  She realized that she should have thought it rather than said it, but the pointing got the message across. Lightfoot stepped back. Returning his horn to her shoulder, he thought, “Show me.”

  She pulled up her shirt. The raw wound underneath was so ugly it made her gasp to see it. The pain suddenly increased, as if her being aware of the injury made it somehow worse.

  Lightfoot turned his head to get a better look at the problem. Whatever he thought of it, the information did not reach Cara, because she was no longer in contact with him.

  After a moment he turned his head back and placed his horn on the wound. She cried out at the flash of pain that accompanied the healing. Then the flesh drew together and all pain vanished.

  “You fixed it!” she cried in delight.

  He nodded, but turned away from her. He took three steps. Then, to her horror, his legs buckled and he crumpled to the floor of the cave.

  “Are you all right?” she cried. Realizing he could neither understand nor answer her, she threw aside the covers and stood. Instantly she fell back to the bed. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath then slid to the floor. She made her way to the unicorn on her hands and knees. Placing one hand on his silky flank, she repeated desperately, “Are you all right?”

  She had barely formed the question before he was reassuring her. “Sorry! I should have warned you. A healing takes a great deal out of me — and this healing was more complicated than I expected.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, feeling worried.

  He hesitated, then said, “You have an old wound, very deep. It is a wound of the spirit, not the flesh, and not something that can be quickly cured, even by the power of my horn.”

  She flinched and drew her hand back from him. A lump of unexpected pain lodged itself in her throat.

  The unicorn waited a moment, then leaned against her. “I do not know the source of the wound,” he said gently. “I cannot read your mind — I only understand what you send me.”

  “I want to rest now,” she responded, her voice sharper than she intended. She started to crawl back toward the bed, then thought better of it. Moving closer to Lightfoot, she lay her head on his side and sighed. The loss of her parents was something she did not talk about. Never. Not with anyone.

  With a skill born of long practice, she pushed her secret sorrows to the back of her mind and slept.

  * * *

  She was woken by something pulling her hair.

  Before she could force her eyes open she heard Lightfoot whicker. A small voice chattered an indignant reply.

  Now she did manage to open her eyes.

  Crouching near her was a creature just over a foot high. It looked like a cross between a monkey and a squirrel. It had thick fur that grew in two shades of gray, dark on its head and back, lighter on its face, limbs, and stomach. Its bushy tail flicked back and forth as it stared at her from enormous eyes that seemed much too large for its face. Those eyes — dark, with bright blue pupils — were lively and intelligent.

  Cara was accustomed to small animals being timid around humans, so she was startled when the gray creature skittered up to her face. Extending a three-fingered hand, it touched her cheek, then rubbed it with its thumb.

  “Don’t be frightened,” Lightfoot told her. “He’s harmless. Annoying, but harmless.”

  “What . . . who is he?” she thought.

  “The Squijum.”

  Cara reached toward the little creature. When her hand made contact with him, he blinked but did not run. His fur was soft and warm.

  “The Squijum?” she thought to Lightfoot. “Does that mean he’s the only one?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “If he’s the only one, where did he come from?”

  “I don’t have the slightest idea,” replied the unicorn. “And I’m sure I don’t care,” he added pointedly.

  The Squijum turned his head and chittered at Lightfoot. Even without her connection to Lightfoot, his indignation would have been clear to Cara. With the connection, she understood him to be saying something along the lines of, “Mean hornhead not love good Squijum phooey bad hotcha!”

  Lightfoot snorted in response.

  Suddenly a shadow stretched over them. With a screech the Squijum scrambled over Cara’s side and cowered behind her.

  Cara turned to look over her shoulder. For a moment her heart leaped in horror. Almost as quickly, she felt a surge of relief. The creature standing at the entrance of the cave was the one she had seen the first time she woke here — the Dimblethum. She wondered if he, too, was the only one of his kind.

  He appeared to be smiling, though it wasn’t easy to tell, giv
en his bearlike face. Holding up a big, furry paw, he said, “The Dimblethum has something that belongs to you.”

  6

  THE QUEEN’S AMULETS

  “The amulet!” cried Cara. “Where did you find it?”

  The Dimblethum looked at Lightfoot, who made some noises in his throat. With a shock, Cara realized that he was repeating her words, translating them for the Dimblethum. But it made sense; just because her connection to Lightfoot let her understand the Dimblethum, there was no reason to expect that he would be able to understand her.

  When Lightfoot was done translating, the Dimblethum made a sound deep in his throat that she took to be a chuckle. “Old Dimblethum has his ways,” he said. Crossing to where she sat beside Lightfoot, he dropped the amulet into her lap.

  She picked it up with her free hand, then cried out in sorrow when she realized that the golden chain had been broken.

  “Peace,” said Lightfoot. “Chains can be mended. It is enough that we have it back.”

  Blushing at the rebuke, Cara turned to the Dimblethum and said, “Thank you.” Lightfoot translated for her. The manbear nodded and made a growl of acceptance.

  “How did you get it back from the delver?” the unicorn asked, echoing Cara’s earlier question. He spoke aloud for the Dimblethum’s sake, at the same time sending the message to Cara. From the picture that formed in her mind, she understood that by “delver” he meant the creature that had attacked her in the woods.

  The Dimblethum chuckled again. “Friends of the Dimblethum followed delver through the forest. Friends of the Dimblethum kept watch, kept track, kept hot on trail. Friends of the Dimblethum showed the way. Easy to follow delver. Easy to crunch delver, bring back amulet.”

  Now the creature scowled and held out his big hand in a gesture that Cara understood to mean that he wanted her to hand him the amulet. Broken chain dangling over his furry fingers, he held it up and said, “What is not easy is what to do next. This cannot stay here.”

  “Why not?” asked Lightfoot.

  “Look carefully. This is one of the five.”

  “Hotcha!” cried the Squijum, running up the Dimblethum’s side as if he were climbing a tree. “Let’s see, let’s see!”

  The Dimblethum plucked the Squijum from his side and dropped him to the floor.

  “Want to see!” he sputtered. But he stayed where he had landed — at least until the Dimblethum held the amulet before Lightfoot. Then he scurried underneath the larger creature and looked up eagerly.

  After a moment the unicorn sighed. “You’re right, it is one of the five.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Cara.

  Lightfoot closed his eyes. “Many centuries ago the Queen ordered the creation of five amulets to be used as rewards for those who had given great service to Luster. The wisdom of this decision is still much argued, for the special property of these amulets was that under the right circumstances they would let the bearer pass between Earth and Luster without going through one of the main gates. This is a great power. Like most great powers, it carries the possibility for great mischief. How did you come by this amulet, anyway?”

  “My grandmother gave it to me.”

  “Who is your grandmother?” asked the unicorn curiously.

  “Her name is Ivy Morris.”

  “That sounds familiar,” he said after a moment. “I suppose I should have paid more attention in history.”

  Cara was trying to take in the idea that her grandmother had done something important in the history of this world when the Dimblethum growled, “The amulet must go to the Queen.”

  “Wait a minute,” Cara objected. “My grandmother told me to find the ‘Old One.’ That’s where I want to go. And the amulet stays with me!”

  At once she wondered if she would make the others angry. But Lightfoot actually laughed — a beautiful, bell-like sound.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  “One of the Queen’s many names is the ‘Old One.’ So the Dimblethum is suggesting the same thing your grandmother wanted.” He sighed, then added, “Unfortunately, I think the Dimblethum is right.”

  “Of course the Dimblethum is right!” growled that creature. “If this amulet falls into the wrong hands —”

  He broke off, shaking his head at the thought.

  “I can help; I can guide!” chittered the Squijum.

  Lightfoot’s response to the little creature’s claims was a derisive snort.

  “Small and fast!” the Squijum chittered, scampering around the Dimblethum’s feet. “Small and fast, can look and find! Want to go! Hotcha!”

  “If I say no, I suppose you’ll follow us anyway,” said Lightfoot.

  “Yes! Yes! Glorious yes!” he cried, hugging his tail.

  “How about you?” Lightfoot asked, turning to the Dimblethum. “If we go to the Queen, will you accompany us?”

  The creature made a series of whuffles and growls that translated to: “The Dimblethum will come part of the way with you. But despite your friendship with him, you know he has little love for your kind, invaders that you are. He will not enter the court of the Queen.”

  “Invaders?” Cara thought to Lightfoot.

  “I will explain later,” he replied.

  * * *

  Once it was decided that they were to carry the amulet to the Queen, the conference quickly ended. It was clear that the Dimblethum was not the sort to sit around and chat; decision made, he was ready to leave. And since there was nothing to pack, no relatives to notify, no mail to cancel, there was not much for it but to get up and go. However, therein lay the problem: Both Cara and Lightfoot were still too weak to travel.

  “Tomorrow morning, at first light,” promised the unicorn. “I’ll be ready then.”

  The Dimblethum made an unhappy noise deep in his throat. “The longer we stay here, the more apt the delvers are to come for us. They will be mad that the Dimblethum took the amulet back. The Dimblethum is more than a match for three or four of them. If they send more, the Dimblethum and his friends could be in trouble.”

  “We’ll be in as much trouble if we try to travel too soon,” replied Lightfoot. “Both the child and I will slow things down, and make us easy targets. By morning I will be at full strength, and can even carry her if necessary.”

  The Dimblethum grumbled but admitted the sense in this. Scooping Cara into his great arms, he deposited her in the bed once more. He roamed restlessly about the cave for a while and finally went back out into the night.

  Once he was gone, Lightfoot knelt beside Cara’s bed. She placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “I have so many questions!” she thought to him.

  “My mother says I have an answer for everything,” he replied, sounding amused. “Of course, she also claims most of them are neither right nor wise. But I’ll do what I can.”

  “Where is your mother?” asked Cara. She had a thousand other questions, all of them more pressing. But her sudden sense that the unicorn was perhaps not as old as she had first thought, combined with her own interest in missing mothers, pushed the other questions aside.

  “She is at Summerhaven,” said Lightfoot. “With the Queen.”

  Cara detected a note of uneasiness beneath his light tone. Remembering his earlier comment about it being unfortunate that the Dimblethum was right, she said, “You don’t really want to go there, do you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied sharply. “When you said you had questions, I didn’t realize they were all going to be about me!”

  Cara lifted her hand from his shoulder, a little surprised that he could be so testy. After a moment she tried again. “Why did the Dimblethum call you invaders?”

  Lightfoot sighed. “My friend does not like it that we unicorns came here from Earth. Actually, I don’t think he minds us so much as the fact that in opening gates between Earth and Luster we made it possible for others to enter here as well. He holds the unicorns responsible for everyone who h
as come here as a result — including the delvers.” He paused, then said, “Also, I think something happened between the Dimblethum and the Queen. Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to get that story.”

  “Is the Queen a unicorn or a human?” asked Cara.

  Lightfoot snorted at the idea that the Queen might be a human. “Her name is Arabella Skydancer,” he said, “and she is the oldest and the wisest of our kind. Unfortunately, she is thinning now. Sometimes you can see right through her.”

  “Thinning?”

  An uncomfortable silence fell between them. After a moment Lightfoot muttered, “I have said more than I should.”

  Cara clenched her jaw. She hated that kind of half secret.

  “How far away is the Queen?” she asked, looking for a question that Lightfoot would answer.

  “Many days. How many depends partly on how fast you can travel — that, and how much trouble we have along the way.”

  “Are you expecting trouble?”

  “It depends on what the delvers are up to.”

  “Tell me about the delvers.”

  “Nasty creatures,” replied Lightfoot. She could feel his flesh shiver beneath her fingers. “They live underground, and they are the sworn enemies of the unicorns.”

  His message didn’t come precisely in words, of course; part of it was an image of a delver.

  “Why are they your enemies?” asked Cara.

  “Many reasons,” replied Lightfoot. He paused, then added, “Our path will take us to Grimwold’s Cavern. Perhaps he will tell you more about them.”

  “Grimwold?”

  “He is the Keeper of the Unicorn Chronicles, and he knows more stories than anyone in the world. However, right now I am only interested in one story, and that is the one in which we are caught. In that story, the only clever thing for either of us to do is get some rest so we will be ready to travel in the morning.”

  Cara began to protest. Her mind was spinning with a thousand more questions. But she had already pushed herself further than she should, and her body was insisting that she sleep. No amount of curiosity was able to overcome that need.