The Darkest Unicorn Read online

  For Paul and Cheryl

  Every song and every story starts somewhere. Fairy tales and nursery rhymes whispered to babies in their cribs all once began as ideas and musical notes in someone’s mind. How do they become so well known? How do words and rhymes spread across entire kingdoms and beyond? The answer is simple: there must always be a reason to sing a song and a reason to pass on a tale.

  This is one such tale…

  IN THE REIGN OF

  QUEEN AUDREY

  Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  In the Reign of Queen Audrey

  Chapter One: Lullabies for the Cows

  Chapter Two: An Omen

  Chapter Three: The Castle in the Clouds

  Chapter Four: Foolish Rules from Ruling Fools

  Chapter Five: The Figure in the Shadows

  Chapter Six: Don’t Go

  Chapter Seven: The Journey Begins

  Chapter Eight: Awake

  Chapter Nine: Arvale

  Chapter Ten: Confession

  Chapter Eleven: The Laughing Lake

  Chapter Twelve: Wending

  Chapter Thirteen: The White Castle

  Chapter Fourteen: Waiting

  Chapter Fifteen: A Broken Deal

  Chapter Sixteen: The Stolen Ones

  Chapter Seventeen: The Transformation

  Chapter Eighteen: The Battle

  Chapter Nineteen: Running

  Chapter Twenty: Down from the Mountain

  Chapter Twenty-One: Home

  Epilogue

  Back ad

  The Midnight Unicorn sample chapter

  Copyright

  LULLABIES FOR THE COWS

  Linnell took the wooden pail from the hook by the door and stepped out on to her porch, into the brand new morning. It was early, and the sky was the colour of orange hawkweed. She tended to her little bird, scattering some seed in his cage, then she turned and breathed deeply, treating her lungs to the cool, crisp air and her eyes to the spectacular mountain view. The great giant, Mount Opacus, stood strong and tall, its peak shrouded in thick cloud whatever the weather, and guarded on either side by smaller mountains known as the Sentries.

  Her own home was opposite these giants, on the lower slopes of the Grey Mountain, but on a day like today, its name was hard to comprehend. The bright sky contrasted with the dark green of the pine trees and the lush green of the meadow. Green mountain would have been a more appropriate name.

  Maybe those who named the mountain long ago lived on the other side – the Essendor side – where it was said to be grey and rocky. Essendor was the capital city after all. But Linnell had never been to the other side of the mountain. There was no real reason to go. Besides, there was no tunnel through, the journey around would take days, and Linnell’s father said that only a brave man or a fool would travel upwards, crossing the mountain peaks.

  The nearest village of Arvale was just a few miles downhill, but Linnell couldn’t really claim to live in the village at all: where she lived was more of a hamlet. Just a few dilapidated farmhouses clustered together. But despite the low population and the early hour, she passed no fewer than three people on her way to the cow barn.

  Piet, the old farmhand, stopped shovelling hay and nodded his head in polite greeting. “Good morning to you, Linnell. I like the way you are wearing your hair today.”

  Linnell touched her hair, which she had braided and twisted around her head. “Good morning, Piet. Thank you.”

  Across the way, Madam Lavande was rocking on a chair on the porch, a crocheted blanket on her lap. “I bid you good morning, Mistress Linnell. I do like your hair plaited in that way.”

  “Thank you, Madam Lavande.”

  And, just as she reached the barn, little Johan jumped out at her from behind the hay cart, making her start. “Boo!”

  “Be off with you, you imp!” said Linnell, chasing him away.

  She made her way into the cow barn, where she could finally hide away. Here it was dark and warm, and it smelled of manure, hay and the cows themselves. The strong smell might have bothered some, but not Linnell, who had grown up with it. She found Nettie, her favourite cow, and led her to the milking stall. Nettie clomped along happily enough and began munching the grain in the manger. Linnell pulled the milking stool up close, wiped Nettie down and began milking.

  Her hands worked automatically and the milk squirted into the pail. She sighed heavily. She would like to be able to part her hair whichever side she chose and braid it in whatever style she fancied without it being a talking point for everyone.

  Linnell had lived in this out-of-the-way place all her life and nothing had ever changed. Every day, her father farmed the meadows, tended to the animals and prepared food for the markets. Every afternoon, Linnell helped with the farm and every morning she studied her schoolbooks.

  Nettie must have sensed Linnell’s mood and shuffled her feet. The waiting cows mooed unhappily. Disgruntled cows made her job much more difficult, so Linnell began to sing. The cows liked her singing and her voice echoed pleasantly in the barn. She sang her favourite song – the one her father had written for her mother and her mother had sung to Linnell in her cradle:

  “To me you are a diamond,

  To me you are a pearl,

  To me you are an emerald,

  To me you are the world,

  “I’d give you a diamond to shine the whole day long,

  But I have no diamond, so I give to you this song.”

  Linnell sighed again. She had never seen a diamond before, or an emerald, but she would surely like to. She would like to wear a dress of silver brocade, encrusted with tiny pearls. She would like maids to wait on her and style her hair however she chose. She continued singing and the cows stood by peacefully.

  “To me you are the mountain,

  To me you are the sea,

  To me you are the forest,

  You’re everything to me.”

  Linnell loved the pictures that the song brought into her mind, of snowy mountain peaks and the billowing sails of great ships on the ocean. She would love to be free to explore, to travel and see the world, but she knew that she would not. In just a few short years, Linnell would leave childhood behind and start working on the farm permanently. Her father was old and he couldn’t bear the weight of their existence alone. With no siblings to share the responsibility, Linnell knew that her route in life had a fixed course.

  As if conjured up by her thoughts, Linnell’s father came into the barn. He leaned just inside the doorway, listening to her song. Then he joined in, his voice deep and powerful.

  “I’d give you a diamond to shine the whole day long,

  But I have no diamond, so I give to you this song.”

  When they had finished, Linnell thought she saw tears in his eyes and guessed he was thinking of her mother, who had died when she was a small child.

  “You sing so well – better than she did, even. Your voice is a true gift.”

  Linnell smiled wistfully. Her father told her this often. Which was nice, but what good was a sweet singing voice when she was stuck in a cow barn near a village that no one had heard of?

  “She was my diamond and you are my pearl, Linnell. The most precious things in the world.”

  Linnell embraced her father. He was so sentimental. Foolish, really. But it was a good moment to ask for a favour. “After I have finished my chores for the day, may I go to the meadow or the forest?”

  “What about your schoolwork?”

  “I shall take my schoolbooks with me. It’s going to be such a lovely day that it seems a shame to stay cooped up inside.”

  “Then, yes, you may, Linnell. You’re a good girl and you do so much for me. I don
’t know what I’d do without you. Just make sure you don’t stray too far, be back by lunchtime and don’t talk to anyone you don’t know.”

  At this, Linnell laughed. The chance of meeting anyone she did not know was so remote that if she did, she would probably be struck mute from the surprise.

  THE SINGING FOREST

  Today, Linnell chose the shade of the forest over the openness of the meadow. It was going to be a hot day and she had more chance of concentrating on her schoolwork without the sunshine reflecting off the bright white paper of her books. There was also something about the forest that stirred Linnell’s curiosity. She had heard people talk of sightings of the Midnight Unicorn, which was rumoured to roam these parts and protect the citizens of Essendor. Linnell doubted that the unicorn would come to Arvale, let alone venture up into the foothills of the mountain, but if it did, she was more likely to encounter it here in the depths of the forest, rather than out in the open meadow.

  She sat on a treestump, took a small stack of books from her satchel, and opened the first one. History. Not her favourite subject, but then none of them were. Apart from music, of course. She could see the use in learning to read and write music, whereas the other subjects seemed like a waste of time. She failed to see how history or arithmetic would help her milk the cows. She flicked through the pages. It was all about kings and queens. She ignored the long chunks of text and gazed at the illustrations instead. The royals wore such fine clothes, in fabrics that she’d never seen: velvet, mulberry silk and linen.

  She would probably never meet a queen, even though she was just a few miles away from the royal city of Essendor where Queen Audrey ruled. She was a popular ruler, unlike her uncle, King Zelos, had been. It was rumoured that he had killed his sister, her husband and the twin babies in order to take the throne as his own. But the twins had survived and returned to claim their birthright. Sometimes she imagined that she was a lost princess. How fine that would be, to discover that she was born into royalty. She could have anything she wanted. A great castle and gardens in which to play, delicious food and elegant clothes. She could wear her hair braided, or curled, or swept up with sparkling hair combs.

  She traced a finger over the floral pattern on one of the dresses. Just beautiful. She glanced briefly at the words, which listed the many achievements of these great royals who had lived so many years ago. Row after row of dates and battles. Linnell couldn’t concentrate. She rested the book on her knees.

  She gazed at the flowers dotted around: celandine, dandelions and merrybells. Weeds to some, but Linnell thought them rather beautiful, their bright colour enhancing the beauty of the shadowy forest like jewellery worn against bare skin. If she would never see real jewels, then these would have to do. She let her book fall to the ground and began to pick a bunch of sturdy leaves: the ones with long flexible stems. She wound three stems together and then gradually added more and more to the row, poking yellow and white flowers into the gaps. The melody from earlier was stuck in her head and she sung it again.

  “To me you are a diamond,

  To me you are a pearl…”

  Her voice sounded different in the forest compared to the echoing stillness of the barn. Out here, the notes drifted away from her to mingle with the other sounds of the forest: the chorus of the birds, the light breeze in the trees and the buzz of nearby insects.

  She wound the strip of leaves and flowers into a circular crown.

  “…To me you are an emerald,

  To me you are the world…”

  She placed the flower crown on top of her head. Now she really did feel like royalty. The white and yellow flowers would bring out the golden highlights in her hair. She began to dance slowly, with her hands raised high above her head, imagining herself performing in a real theatre, in front of the queen.

  “I’d give you a diamond to shine the whole day long…”

  Linnell sang, but then stopped suddenly when she heard music. She had the most curious sensation that the forest was singing back to her.

  THE COLOURFUL STRANGER

  Linnell slowly turned her head to listen. The notes were quiet, but she could definitely hear them, drifting out from the trees. Was someone singing along with her? It sounded magical. Maybe it was a unicorn. Did unicorns sing? But no, it was the sound of a pipe. Someone was playing along to her music. She sang the next line:

  “But I have no diamond, so I give to you this song.”

  The sound of the pipe matched her singing, note for note. How could that be? This was her own special song that her father had written. She followed the music, taking small footsteps and singing as she went. She recognized the instrument: the music was coming from a wooden fipple pipe. It was beautiful. Then she peeped through the bushes, watching and listening.

  The pipe player was also beautiful. He was young and slight, with slim limbs and skin the colour of a walnut shell. She could tell from the brightness and cut of his clothes that he was not from around here. Dark blonde curls peeped out from under a red alpine hat and he wore a long jacket of striped patchwork.

  As he played, he danced, skipping lightly from one foot to the other. This, combined with his sharp features, gave Linnell a fleeting feeling that he was not entirely human; he must have some fairy in him. But then he turned and she saw he was a boy. Just a boy.

  She stepped from her hiding place and he caught her gaze, but carried on playing to the end of the song. She sang along; it seemed like the only thing to do. Then he stopped playing, lowered his pipe and smiled, showing even, white teeth. “You sing well.”

  Linnell smiled too. “You play well. How did you know the tune?”

  “I can play any song I hear.” He picked up the pipe and played another, merry tune that she didn’t know.

  She tapped her foot along to the rhythm and then clapped when he’d finished. They gazed at each other until Linnell felt the need to break the silence.

  “My name is Linnell. I live over there,” she said shyly, pointing towards the village.

  The boy took off his cap and bowed low. “Sander. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He looked in the direction she pointed and shook his head slowly as if puzzled. “I can’t imagine living out here.”

  The heat rose in Linnell’s cheeks. “There is a village a few miles away. We are not as remote as it might appear.”

  “Still, it is a sleepy place.”

  Linnell wished she could defend her home, but it was true. It was beyond sleepy; it was dead to the world. “Why, where are you from?”

  “I am from nowhere and everywhere. Today I am from this very forest. Yesterday, I was from the mountains. I go wherever I want and do whatever I please. I live only for adventure.”

  Linnell let this sink in for a moment. Adventure. Just the word sent a thrill right through her. “What sort of adventure?”

  “Any sort of adventure. For a time, I slept on a home-made raft, floating down the river. When it drifted ashore, I would get out and explore. When it did not, then I just stayed afloat for days.”

  Just drifting. For days. So different from Linnell’s own life, with its unvarying sequence of chores and activities. “Don’t your parents mind?”

  “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never asked them.” Sander stopped and picked up a large, shiny beetle from the forest floor. It scurried up his arm and he laughed, transferring it to his other hand and then back on to the ground, where it disappeared under some leaves. “It would be easier to tame that beetle than to stop my wanderings. I cannot imagine another way to live.”

  Linnell could not imagine how such a carefree lifestyle would be possible. “But how do you live? How do you eat … clothe yourself?”

  “Sometimes, I play my pipe for people in taverns or at festivals. A few coins in my hat go a long way. Sometimes, I tell stories. People pay to hear my tales of the mountains and the things I have seen: fairies, dragons, flying wolves…”

  Just imagine. Sander had experienced more excitement on his journey
than Linnell had in her entire life. He spoke only of doing what he wanted, with no care for anyone else’s wishes. How she would love to be that free.

  “Are the stories true?”

  “All my stories are true. You wouldn’t believe the things that I’ve seen just moments from here. The Midnight Unicorn of Essendor roams freely if you know where to look—”

  Linnell gasped. “You have seen the Midnight Unicorn?”

  “Yes, I’ve had the pleasure of seeing it dancing in the moonlight on many occasions; but the Midnight Unicorn of Essendor is not the greatest sight you will see. What does that horned horse even do? Rescue people from rivers? Save sheep from wolf attacks? The Midnight Unicorn does nothing that you or I couldn’t do; its powers pale in comparison to those of the Greatest Unicorn.”

  “The Greatest Unicorn?”

  “Yes. A more powerful and majestic beast. Of all the sights I have witnessed on my travels, it is he who takes my breath away.”

  “Then why do ordinary folk not speak of him? I have not heard a single tale of his great feats.”

  “He is hidden away in a castle in the clouds. Only a true adventurer would ever find him.”

  “What does this unicorn – the Greatest Unicorn – look like?” whispered Linnell.

  Sander lowered his voice to match Linnell’s. “He is white. No, not white. Clear. He is translucent – like ice.”

  “Like a diamond?”

  Sander smiled. “Yes, like a diamond. But not hard like a diamond. Strong and sinewy but still soft. And his mane shimmers with gold. He has real power.”

  “Power?”

  “Oh, yes.” Sander picked up his pipe and played another pretty tune. Linnell wished he wouldn’t. She wanted to hear more about the unicorn. The Greatest Unicorn. She waited patiently until the end of the song and then, before he could play any more, she asked, “What power?”

  Sander smiled. “If he chooses, the Greatest Unicorn can grant wishes. He can make any wish come true.”