Unicorn Quests - 31. Chapter 31

The last time I’d seen that hand, iron links had held me down, my body forced to the ground and my head bowed. My horn had been severed and so much had been lost to me.

Now it made sense. This human was wanted through many realms. He’d stolen many treasures, ransoming them back to their owners—if he didn’t keep them outright to sell to higher bidders. Or gain power from them himself.

Because that was his goal. Power. In all its forms. The ultimate goal: To be the most powerful singular person in the entire world.

His poisonous words had echoed in my ears as he crowed that he’d stolen my magic… yet I’d failed to remember his name or his face until this moment.

The warlock cackled. “Looks like he just got his memory back. A sadistic little twist of my own. You knew what you lost, that someone had taken it, but there was no way to know for sure who it was. The agony of not knowing was a fine torture.” He grinned, showing his rotted teeth.

“Clearly he didn’t remember who or what I was.” Balasamar sniffed. “Otherwise why would he have made those silly traps?”

I clenched my jaw, my knuckles white around the spear. I should have known, remember somehow. How could I have forgotten the man, the human, who’d sheared off my horn? Who’d taken the essence of my very being?

“Whatever foul plans you had this time, I’ve stopped. I released the young you had those trolls captured. You can’t work your magic on them.”

“And yet you brought me exactly what I really needed,” Balasamar rasped. “A locus, two in fact. And don’t think you can hide that mate of yours from me.”

My mate? Wasn’t he after our young? I narrowed my eyes. Why had he mentioned Londe?

“Oh, precious. He has no idea what he has done.” The warlock clapped his hands and swayed. “Those Beings you set free were for me. And yet, in the end, I will have more. So many more.”

“Not if we kill you.”

The warlock danced his fingers together and then spread them apart, and a black, sticky substance oozed between them and then down to the ground. “You can try.” The grass sickened, yellowing instantly and then withered and died. It began to pool, spreading in front of him in a widening circle.

“Now, now,” Balasamar said, “maybe something less lethal, hmm? After all, I’d like my new visage to be a little more permanent.”

“Fine.” The pool sucked backward and reversed course, like a waterfall going backwards. The ground was barren underneath, the ground dark and dry, cracked like it had roasted under the blazing sun through a thousand summers. Insects lay dead, their legs shriveled tight to their bodies.

It would take a very special spell to affect the locuses, because most magic they could funnel. That left me as the weak link. I needed to go on the offensive. Enough with this listening to the bad guys insult me and threaten my family.

They’d seen the ropes and the spikes. But could they see the underground traps Tinn and Wenn had dug under the path? They’d stayed at a distance, several paces beyond the trap.

Time to lure them in and see.

I leapt the fire with a sharp cry, spinning my spear around and forward. I rushed Balasamar and his pet warlock, the spear at the ready. I’d go for the magician first; he was the strongest threat.

Without him, whatever plan Balasamar had would end, and then I’d destroy him. Trampling him would be most satisying, but I would take gutting him and slitting his throat instead.

I feinted straight for Balasamar, then at the last second, pulled the shaft and turned toward the warlock.

His body stretched, swaying to the left so disjointed and unnatural just like the darkness he’d released. I grit my teeth, baring them as I stomped the ground in a calculated risk. I didn’t want the ground to cave, but I had to make them think I was standing my ground, just as I would have as a unicorn guarding our borders.

Just as I had the first time, when I should have run for reinforcements instead. I’d been brave and foolhardy instead of brave and smart.

The warlock uttered a few unintelligible words that sent shivers down my spine. I crouched warily, watching him intently. But instead of the darkness coming from him like before, this time it came from shadows in the trees like coils of inky rope.

I yelped and ducked one going for my head as it hissed in the air but missed the thinner tendril that crept up and caught my ankle completely. It heaved, stronger than it should have been, and yanked me off my feet. I hit the ground on my back, grunting.

The larger rope slapped at the spear in my hand, and the icy fire that emanated from it numbed my fingers and the wood hit the ground and rolled away. I cried out, one hand and one foot now numb.

“No!” Tinn roared. He rushed forward and slashed at the shadows. When his claws hit them, it broke apart. The bits still clinging to me absorbed into his hand. His eyes darkened, but then he held one trembling hand toward Balasamar, and the darkness snapped out to crack like a whip in front of his face.

Balasamar stepped back, not the direction I needed him to go.

“Forward, Tinn,” I whispered. “They have to come to us.”

Tinn gave the tiniest nod. He groaned theatrically and rolled his ears, then collapsed beside me.

Wenn screamed. “No! Tinn!” He rushed up to us as Tinn and I lay vulnerable on the ground. The warlock cackled and raised his hands again.

Londe whinnied and galloped in front of us, his horn bared and hooves raking the soil. I groaned.