The Darkest Unicorn Page 2

  Any wish. Linnell thought of all her hopes and dreams of getting far from here. Of beautiful jewels, fine clothes. And freedom.

  “What would you wish for, Linnell?” asked Sander.

  Linnell shrugged. She felt foolish saying her dreams aloud.

  Sander played a few notes on his pipe. Her song.

  To me you are a diamond,

  To me you are a pearl.

  He put down his pipe and gazed directly into her eyes. “Diamonds around your neck? A dress decorated in exquisite seed pearls? Just imagine. If you looked like that, you could do anything you wanted. You could travel to great kingdoms and sing for royalty. They would pay you handsomely and then you could buy more fine clothes.”

  Linnell nodded, slightly unnerved by how easily he seemed to read her dreams. “I would love to live a life like that.”

  “Then live it. There is nothing to stop you. If there is something that you want, just do it.”

  “How? How could I just do it?”

  “Well if you wanted it to happen right away, you could ask the unicorn.”

  “I could? But how?”

  Sander ran a hand along some long grass. “I could show you where to find him. He can grant any wish, as long as something is given in exchange.”

  Something in exchange. That was the problem. Linnell had nothing. No money or even belongings that she could sell.

  “What does the unicorn take in return?” Linnell asked.

  Sander sighed. “Oh dear. Are you one of those people?”

  Linnell didn’t know what she’d said wrong. “One of which people?”

  “One of those sorts of people who like to ask questions. ‘Why?’ ‘How?’ And ‘Why’ again. If you ask too many questions then you end of talking yourself out of what you really want. If you want something then you must grasp it and not let go. Forget the questions.”

  Just imagine the freedom if Linnell just thought about herself and what she wanted for a change. What sort of life would she lead if only she could experience that? Her father would find help with the farm, or maybe he wouldn’t need the farm any more: she would keep him in luxury too.

  Linnell could go and see the unicorn – ask him to grant her wish. The idea was so liberating that she laughed out loud before she asked, “May I come with you?”

  “Well you may, but I will be surprised if you do. I meet many people on my travels but few have the inclination to venture very far past their own doorsteps. As far as I know, I am the only person who has ever set eyes on the Greatest Unicorn.”

  “I am different from the others,” said Linnell earnestly. “I really want to come and meet him. Please may I accompany you?”

  Sander looked pleased. “Of course, it’s not too far.” He picked up his pipe and bag, brushed himself down and turned towards the trees. “This way.”

  Linnell’s heart beat faster. Surely he wasn’t going straight away? “I must let my father know where I am going.”

  “That’s a shame.” Sander began walking further into the forest.

  Was he really leaving this very minute? He couldn’t expect her to just walk after him without telling anyone, could he? “It will only take me a few minutes. You could come too.” It would be worth it to see Madam Lavande’s face as Linnell walked past her cottage with this colourful stranger.

  Sander stopped, turned and sighed. “A few minutes will easily turn into a few hours. Your father will no doubt refuse to allow you to go, you will protest and barricade yourself in your bedroom. He will start up with the Whys and the Hows, then in all likelihood you will never go anywhere at all. I understand. Some of us are not made for adventure. But as for me, I am leaving now. So I bid you farewell.”

  Sander walked off towards the trees and Linnell watched him leave, startled by his impatience. She could not – should not – follow a stranger into the forest on a whim. After all, what would her father think if she didn’t return home that afternoon? Sander began playing his pipe once again: a sad, wistful tune. As he drew away and the notes grew quieter, panic rose in Linnell’s chest. What if she was letting her one chance for real adventure slip away? She would regret it forever. If the unicorn did grant her wish of freedom then her father would not be cross – he would never have to work again. And if the unicorn did not grant her wish, or she wanted to return, then she would just return home straightaway. Sander said it wasn’t far, after all.

  “Wait for me!” she cried and sprinted after him, her flower crown tumbling to the ground.

  AN OMEN

  Linnell was on her way to meet a unicorn and her life was finally going to change. She was so excited that she practically skipped as she followed Sander on the meandering forest path. He walked quickly but Linnell kept up without difficulty, firing questions at him as they went.

  “Will the unicorn mind me turning up uninvited?”

  “You are invited. I have invited you. That will be enough.“

  “Does he talk?”

  “In his own way.”

  “What will he ask me—?”

  Linnell’s question was interrupted by a harsh screeching sound, loud enough to make her jump back. “What was that?”

  “Just a bird,” said Sander, pointing into the tree above them. A large black bird with a flash of white at its throat perched on one of the lower branches, shifting its weight from foot to foot.

  “A raven,” said Linnell. “I’ve never seen a raven in these woods before. Don’t people say that they are bad luck?”

  Sander laughed loudly. “Those rural superstitions are just stories that people tell one another to stop themselves from doing anything fun! They are nonsense.”

  Linnell felt foolish. Sander already thought that she was a cautious type from a humdrum hamlet. Now he would think she believed in local superstitions too.

  The bird watched them for a few moments and then dived from the tree in front of Sander’s face, flapping its wings and making the same screeching sound as before. Linnell shrieked and Sander batted his arms around his head. His hat fell to the forest floor.

  The bird flew up to the tree for a few seconds and then dived again, aiming straight at Sander. “Be gone, bird!” yelled Sander, continuing to hit at it. Then he removed his pipe from a holder at his belt and blew into it, hard, making a screeching sound at a volume far louder than the bird. Linnell put her hands over her ears. The bird flapped away into another tree further away. Sander waited and then blew again. The bird flew away. Sander stopped the awful noise, picked up his hat and patted it back into shape. Linnell lowered her hands. She heard the bird calling in the distance. It was too far off to tell, but to Linnell’s ears, it sounded like Go back, go back…

  UP AND UP

  Linnell followed Sander further into the forest and out the other side. They reached a stream. He led her to its narrowest point, jumped across and reached out a hand to help her.

  Then they progressed in the direction of the mountains. She didn’t skip along quite like she had before but still she walked swiftly, thinking of the unicorn and of how her life would change.

  “Is it far? Which way are we heading?” asked Linnell. She never normally walked this distance from home and she found herself looking back in the direction of her cottage, calculating how long it would take her to return.

  “Questions, again! Always so many questions,” said Sander. “Just relax and enjoy the sights and sounds of the journey. There is so much to see everywhere. Why don’t you look over at those mountains in the distance? Tell me what you see.”

  Linnell looked where Sander was pointing. In the distance, a waterfall flowed down the side of one of the mountains – the smallest Sentry. She could not see where it began or ended, only the streak of white, which must be the cascade of churning water, and the fainter line it drew through the trees.

  “It is many miles from here, of course, but it is said that great treasures lie in a cave behind the falls. Sapphires the size of my palm.” Sander held up his hand to ill
ustrate his point.

  Linnell stopped walking for a moment. How had she never heard this tale before? Without Sander, she would know nothing about the magic and hidden riches that lay so close to her doorstep. “Why does nobody claim the treasure? Why don’t you?”

  “The sound of the waterfall is thunderous, like an avalanche, or a stampede of cattle. It is so loud that nobody can get within a few miles of the waterfall, for fear of losing their hearing,” explained Sander. “It is not the cascade of water alone that makes that sound, of course. The waterfall is enchanted with a sorcerer’s curse. When he trapped the treasure he also trapped spectres, that scream and shout to be free. To claim the treasure, one would have to get close enough to the waterfall and undo the sorcerer’s spell.”

  “It would be impossible.”

  Sander smiled knowingly. “Nothing is impossible. If I were to embark upon that particular quest, I should lull the spectres into a slumber with my pipe playing. It would be relatively simple. But I have no particular need for material wealth. Besides, other adventures beckon. I prefer to gaze at this particular waterfall from afar. It is a treasure in its own right.”

  Linnell looked and sighed, wistfully. Sander was right. It was beautiful. All this magic, right on her doorstep, that she had never noticed before. She was on the biggest adventure of her life. Sander played a tune on his pipe. Linnell listened, with her eyes closed. The music certainly was magical enough to undo a curse.

  Sander stopped and Linnell opened her eyes. He looked kindly at her. “I don’t mean to be cruel about the questions. It is natural to wonder but sometimes it can ruin the experience. Try to relax and enjoy each step we take.”

  Linnell nodded, trying to ignore the blisters that were forming on her heels.

  “Sometimes you know the answers to these questions, anyway, without having to ask me. You ask which way. We are seeking a unicorn in a castle in the clouds. So, you tell me, which way will we travel to find this unicorn?”

  Linnell thought for a moment. “I suppose … up?”

  “Up! Exactly!”

  And up they went.

  They walked up a wide dusty path that grew steeper as they went along. Linnell could see the white clouds not far above them, but no castle. She had lived in these mountains her whole life and had never, not even on the clearest day, seen a castle above the peaks. She wondered how far they would have to walk before they saw it.

  After a while they reached a wall of rough grey rocks. The foothills were behind them now; this was proper mountain territory. The path took a sharp, steep turn to the left, zigzagging up the mountainside. It was made up of small stones, bigger than pebbles, but smaller than rocks. Linnell wondered if they had been laid by hand, or formed naturally. She was tempted to ask Sander but was trying hard to limit her questions.

  Sander broke two long branches from a nearby tree and handed one to Linnell. Then he embarked on the steep path, using the branch as a walking stick. Linnell followed his strides, keeping up reasonably easily. Her legs were strong and she was accustomed to walking up and down slopes. Some might think that her daily walk between the cow barn and her home was more of a climb than a stroll.

  The higher they climbed, the more out of breath she grew, but she tried to speak normally. She would show Sander that she was capable of this adventure. “My father says that only an adventurer or a fool would climb this far up a mountain.”

  Sander laughed at her comment and did not reply. Which was she? she wondered. An adventurer or a fool? She wished she could be sure.

  As they climbed higher, the path grew narrower until there was no path at all. A small rock fell from somewhere up above, tumbling and bouncing down the near vertical slope to her right. If she fell now, would she be able to halt her fall with a handhold or would she keep sliding and bouncing down the mountainside as the rock had done?

  Sander turned to Linnell. “A tumbling rock can sound distant, but you should never turn your face in its direction. If you hear a rock fall, then cover your head with your hands and make yourself small.”

  Linnell lifted her chin. “I have lived my whole life on the foothills of a mountain. I don’t need advice on what to do in an avalanche.”

  She wished she felt as confident as she tried to appear. Sander laughed in response.

  Higher and higher they climbed, and as the sun moved westwards, Linnell tried not to think about her cosy home and how worried her father would be getting. They had reached the clouds that she had been staring up at earlier. It was a strange thought. They swirled, thick and white, around her – a bit like fog but active and unpredictable. At least they blocked the dizzying drop from her sight. She felt wobbly – lightheaded – but wasn’t sure if it was fear or the change in air as they travelled higher. Maybe it was even hunger – she hadn’t eaten since breakfast – although she didn’t feel as though she wanted food. It was hard work and her feet didn’t want to move as they had before. She gripped the slender trunk of a tree on her left and moved into it, the bark rough against the inside of her elbow and her cheek. She took a couple of deep breaths, in through her nose, but this deep breathing didn’t settle her the way that it usually did. She felt as though the thick mist might suffocate her.

  “Just keep going,” said Sander. “One foot in front of the other.”

  Linnell took his advice. She tried not to look down the mountainside again and just focused on her feet, taking tiny steps and moving slowly forwards.

  Finally, they rested. Sander sat on a rock a few paces further up. He gazed down at her without speaking, reached into his bag and handed her an apple. She bit into it gratefully, enjoying the sweetness. She ate the whole thing and dropped the core. This time, as she watched it fall and bounce, she didn’t feel scared, just interested. She wondered where it would land, and if an apple tree would grow. Wouldn’t that be a strange sight, here amongst the pine trees?

  The apple gave her a little more energy.

  “That’s better,” she said, and smiled with an enthusiasm she didn’t feel. They must be nearly there. Linnell wanted to ask how far, and exactly how they would reach the castle, but she was still trying not to ask too many questions. It didn’t stop them whirling around in her head. She would have to train herself out of it.

  They set off again. Now, even the narrow, stony path had disappeared, and they had to forge their own path across the rocks and through the spindly trees. Sander managed it easily, skipping along lightly. Linnell, despite being fit and used to the mountains, found it a struggle. The uneven rocky surface pressed through the thin leather soles of her shoes and in time, the slope grew so steep that Linnell abandoned the walking stick and used her hands as well as her feet to scramble up the mountainside.

  A memory came to her. When she had been five or six, a local goatherd, a friend of her father’s, had fallen down the Grey Mountain. He had survived the fall but died soon afterwards of his injuries. She peered over her shoulder. If she fell up here, then she would roll quickly downhill. If she were lucky then a bush or tree would break the fall and save her. If not, then it would be the end for her. What would her father say when they found her body broken at the bottom of the mountainside?

  She stopped, breathing rapidly, unsure if she could go on. Sander must have sensed her fear and took a long rope from his bag. He looped one end through his leather belt and tied the other around her waist with a figure of eight knot. “This knot won’t tighten if you fall,” he said. “I’ll go a little way ahead, and you follow.”

  Linnell nodded. She felt safer with the rope around her but still, she wasn’t sure if she could physically move any higher. She watched Sander travel up the steep slope, hands and feet naturally seeking out holds within the rough surface of the rock. He made it look so easy.

  Sander perched on a rocky protrusion above her, the rope snaking between them. “You can do this, Linnell,” he said, and he took his pipe from his belt. He played an uplifting tune that made her think of birds and clouds and u
nicorns. Her eyes were drawn skywards and she felt a pressing urge to go up, to join Sander on the rocky ledge. She placed her hands and feet exactly where he had done and climbed. She no longer thought about falling; she just thought of her destination. And it was easy.

  They continued on like that, without speaking, Sander climbing ahead and playing his pipe, and Linnell following him and his music.

  She managed the journey all the way to a wider ledge, where Sander untied the rope that joined them. “We’ve reached the summit,” he announced. But, in the thick cloud and fading light, she couldn’t see the peak or the view below; she could only just make out his features.

  Linnell felt as though she was just waking up from a dream. She forgot about limiting her questions. “Are we there? Where is the castle?”

  Sander nodded. “We have reached the top of this mountain, but the castle lies above Mount Opacus, to the west.” He pointed out into the clouds, into the nothingness. “We cannot get there by foot.”

  Linnell felt hot tears behind her eyes. She didn’t understand how they could possibly travel to another mountain peak. Sander took a couple of paces and disappeared into the mist. Panicking, Linnell followed him.

  “Just a few more steps up on this side and we’ll get you across,” he said. She saw then that they were near a wooden structure. Eight or nine steps led up to an open platform like the lakeside jetties that the fishermen used in Arvale. Linnell had no idea what it was for, although she was fairly certain that nobody would be fishing all the way up here.

  She followed Sander up the steps and stood as close to the middle of the platform as she could, away from the open edge. To her left, a metal wheel was fixed to a tall wooden post, with a thick rope wound around it: some kind of pulley system. Sander reached up to the rope by the wheel and pulled at it. The wheel squeaked and turned and a deep square woven basket swung into view: the sort that held firewood, but deeper, almost up to her shoulders. He pulled it up so that it was resting on the platform edge.