The Phoenix Unchained (61 page)

“You’re crazy,” Harrier said comfortably. “I just did what anybody would have done.”

“And so said Kellen, and Cilarnen, and Petariel, and Vestakia, and hundreds of others whose names you do not know, and which only their families remember,” Ancaladar answered.

IN the morning, Harrier was the last one up for a change, finally being roused from his bed—after only an hour or so of sleep—by Tiercel’s determined clattering of cups and plates. He and Ancaladar had talked nearly until dawn. A lot of their conversation had been about Tiercel, but more had been about Armethalieh, a place Ancaladar had seen only briefly very long ago—during the Flowering
War itself, in fact. Harrier had originally been surprised that there were places that Ancaladar didn’t know about, but Ancaladar had reminded him that the Elves had withdrawn to the East centuries before, and by then he’d had no further interest in traveling.

By the time the noise—and the smell of ham and griddlecakes—woke him, the other three had already finished their breakfasts, and Tiercel was threatening to throw the rest of the food away.

“I should reconsider such a rash and hasty action, were I you, Tiercel. The Portmaster’s son has a fearsome temper, and is quick to anger, especially when he is hungry,” Ancaladar said mildly.

Tiercel glanced from Ancaladar to Harrier in surprise.

“Is something going on that I should know about?” he asked slowly.

“No,” Harrier and Ancaladar said in unison.

AFTER breakfast, Elunyerin and Rilphanifel at last took their leave.

“I think they’re glad to get rid of us,” Harrier said, watching the Elves ride away.

“The Elves have always understood Men as little as Men have understood Elves,” Ancaladar said. “You have both been a great trial to them, and they are relieved to have discharged the obligations of both duty and hospitality.”

“Well, me too,” Harrier said. “At least now I don’t have to go around watching every word that comes out of my mouth and figuring out how not to ask questions all the time.”

Tiercel laughed. “You got pretty good at it, though,” he said.

“Elunyerin kept hitting me. Only when Rilphanifel couldn’t see her, though,” Harrier grumbled. He rubbed his arm in memory.

Tiercel looked from Ancaladar to Harrier. “I was sort of worrying about when they’d leave. I’m glad the two of you . . .”

“I have always known that I would need to seek Harrier’s aid in causing you to behave properly, Tiercel. He has told me many disquieting stories of your childhood,” Ancaladar said reprovingly.

“We talked all night,” Harrier said, smirking.

“Oh, I . . . Blessed Saint Idalia and the Great Flowering,” Tier-cel groaned.

“Yeah,” Harrier said. “Maybe now that you’ve got a
dragon
to watch your back you’ll stop pulling quite so many dumb stunts.”

“And to aid you in this endeavor, I believe we might take this opportunity to once more practice the simpler wards and shields. You must not only be able to cast them, Tiercel, but to build them into cantrips, which requires a focus that you yet lack. Only when you have mastered these spells will it be safe to proceed with those which you may need later.”

Tiercel looked at Ancaladar and sighed. “I’ll go get my wand.”

“And your sword,” Ancaladar said helpfully.

Tiercel trudged off to the wagon.

“You really do enjoy bullying him, don’t you?” Harrier said, once Tiercel was out of earshot.

Ancaladar blinked slowly. “Not so much as he may imagine. But a High Mage is different from an Elven Mage. Were he to attempt spells of storm and lightning now—or even to invoke the Elemental Powers—he would suffer greatly. He must begin with those spells that will protect all of us, should protection be needed.”

“It takes years to train a High Mage,” Harrier said, because that was something that Tiercel had told him.

“Our Bond speeds many things, Harrier. Perhaps it will be enough,” Ancaladar answered.

AFTER Tiercel and Ancaladar had left for their practice, Harrier put the camp to rights, packing up their gear and stowing it in the
wagon, and getting out the harness that he’d need to use later. For the first time, as he had watched his friends—
both
his friends, he realized—walk off to the copse of trees where they’d practiced last night, he hadn’t felt a sick pang of jealousy at seeing them go off together. And he realized that he was looking forward to this evening, when he could try to have a conversation with Tiercel about what he was learning, and talk to Ancaladar about—well, lots of things. He knew he wouldn’t understand any of the High Magick talk, but it might help Tiercel to talk about it.

Getting everything ready didn’t take very long, and he knew the two of them would probably be practicing for at least a bell, maybe longer. The day was already getting warm, so he decided to go back down to the stream and maybe get in a swim while he was waiting. It was deep enough for that, and didn’t seem to contain any of the Otherfolk that filled the Elven Lands. Brownies, Fauns, and Centaurs were one thing—he’d grown up with those—but every time he ran into something strange here, he was never sure whether it could talk or not. Tiercel was the one who knew about Otherfolk, but Harrier was the one who kept seeing them. It wasn’t fair.

HE got down to the edge of the stream—Rilphanifel and Elunyerin always made camp by water if at all possible, and with thirsty horses and a thirsty dragon to tend, it made sense—and walked along it until he found the nice deep slow-running spot where he’d bathed last night. The morning sun was filtering down through the trees, and there were a few birds calling to each other in the distance, and everything was quiet and peaceful. He peered down into the water suspiciously, but nothing outlandish stared back.

He’d pulled off his tunic, and was just about to sit down to remove his boots, when a voice stopped him.

“Well thank goodness. I thought those two would
never
leave.
Elves. Always poking in where they’re not wanted. They can be really annoying sometimes, don’t you think?”

Harrier yelped and dove for his shirt. He clutched it, staring around himself, but all he saw was forest.

Just my luck. Now I run into one of the things that’s invisible
.

“Er, what?” he said at last.

There was a flicker in the forest on the other side of the stream, as if the sunlight had suddenly gotten brighter, and something stepped through the trees.

It was a unicorn.

Her coat was the pale gold of morning sunlight, except for the white blaze down the center of her face. Her short brushy mane was white as well, as was the lionlike tuft at the end of her tail, and she had four white socks. Her nose was pink, and so were her cloven hooves.

He’d thought all unicorns were white.

As she stepped closer, a shaft of sunlight struck her horn. He’d thought it was just white—it was in the middle of the white blaze in her forehead, after all—but as the light struck it, it flared with color like the inside of a seashell: rose and gold and even blue.

Her eyes were blue, framed by long dark lashes.

Harrier had been startled by many of the things he’d seen in the Elven Lands—the dryads, the selkies. He’d been overawed and impressed by the sheer majesty of the dragons.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for the heart-stopping beauty of a unicorn. She was as fragile, as delicate, as beautiful as a flower. She was grace personified. She was . . .

“I’ve been following you ever since you left Karahelanderialigor, waiting for a chance to get you alone.”

“You’re a unicorn,” Harrier said.

The unicorn snorted with gentle laughter, tossing her beautiful head. “I’ve been one all my life. Are you always so obvious? I suppose you’ve been a human all your life, too.”

“Well, yes.” Harrier felt a sudden need to apologize for that. For being here at all, even. “You see, I—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that now. I’ve brought you a present. It’s in the bag around my neck. Come closer. I won’t bite,” the unicorn said coaxingly.

Only then did Harrier realize that yes, the unicorn
did
have a bag around her neck. It was more of a small satchel, really, made of red leather and closed with a buckle. The strap around her neck closed with a buckle, too, and in an instant he felt angry. Who could possibly have dared to insult such a wonderful creature by putting a collar on her as if she were a beast of burden?

Without thinking, he walked toward her—only realizing when it was far too late to do anything about it that he’d walked right into the middle of the deepest part of the stream, boots and all.

The unicorn threw back her head and brayed with laughter. Harrier slipped and floundered on the muddy bottom of the stream, sliding completely beneath the water. He lost the hold he had on his tunic. When he surfaced again, he saw it floating downstream, well out of reach.

The unicorn was on her knees, sobbing with laughter. She was shaking her head back and forth. Her tail lashed.

“Oh!” she wailed. “Humans! I had forgotten how funny you all were!” She rolled on her side, kicking out weakly, helpless with mirth.

Harrier stomped his way to the unicorn’s side of the stream.

Fragile? Delicate? Beautiful?

He wondered how you went about strangling a unicorn.

“You did that on purpose,” he said, standing over her.

She looked up at him soulfully, her sides still heaving.

“Only a little,” she said. “There was a log right there. You could have used that, you know.”

“And you knew perfectly well I wouldn’t,” Harrier said. At least he had dry clothes back in the wagon.

The unicorn rolled over and got to her feet, shaking to remove
the dirt of the forest floor. Harrier resisted the urge to brush her clean. He didn’t think he trusted her.

Standing, they were almost of a height. And her eyes were
very
blue.

“Don’t you want your present?” she asked. Her voice was soft and coaxing, as if she were sorry for the nasty trick she’d just played on him, but Harrier could see the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted any presents from her.

“Probably not,” he said firmly. “Every time people give me presents, it just makes trouble.” He thought of his Naming Day party, and the gift from his Uncle Alfrin that had actually started all this. “Especially if it’s books. Someone gave me a book as a present once.”