The Darkest Unicorn Page 3

  “Here is how you get across.”

  THE OTHER SIDE

  Sander unclipped the side of the basket, which swung open like a door, and she saw that he meant for her to get inside. Linnell peered at the pulley rope, which stretched out into the clouds. She couldn’t see how far it went, or to where. Would it take her weight? Her heart beat faster. Climbing up mountains was one thing, but baskets pulled on ropes were quite another.

  “I can’t do this,” she said.

  “It is the only way. Trust me. I will get you across to the other side,” encouraged Sander.

  “Are you not coming too?”

  “It isn’t big enough for two.”

  Linnell saw this was true, but her whole body protested at the idea of getting inside. “I’ve got the basket,” said Sander. “You just need to take one step inside. The whole journey will be over in mere minutes.”

  Just one step. After the journey they had undertaken, Linnell could surely manage one more step. She leaned forward and held on to the upper edges of the basket, and then as Sander held the basket firmly on the platform, she stepped inside. It didn’t move; it was secure.

  Then Sander clipped the side firmly shut with one hand. She gripped the edges tightly as he let go and began pulling at the rope. “Don’t look down,” he said. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  The basket shifted towards the edge. “Hold on tight,” called Sander, and the basket fell a few inches off the platform, jolting her alarmingly. Linnell shrieked. She opened her eyes; it was better with them open. The basket swayed and swung in the thick white mist. Sander was disappearing from view. Linnell could only just make out his ghost-like figure, pulling at the pulley rope. She had no idea how far up she was or if she was crossing air or water. Despite the depth of the basket, she had the unnerving feeling that she might topple over the edge, so she crouched down inside, reaching up to grip the edges.

  The base of the basket creaked and squeaked beneath her. She felt sick. She wanted to sing to herself, to pray, to do anything to make herself feel better, but she couldn’t even breathe. All that lay between her and a neck-breaking fall was the simple pulley mechanism. What if the rope broke? What if it jammed and she was left suspended halfway across?

  But she told herself over and over that she could do it. It was all going to be worth it. And the journey was quick. The second mountain must have been close by, because after just a couple of minutes, the swaying stopped, as the basket hit something solid, and Linnell felt the base dragging on flat ground. The mist was still thick but she could see that she had reached the other mountain. With another sudden jolt, the basket tipped and emptied Linnell on to the hard ground. She lay there on her side for a moment, palms down on the flat cool rock, grateful to be in one piece. Then she sat up. The basket had deposited her on a small, level section on the mountainside. The thick, white cloud still swirled around her gave her the feeling of sitting on a cloud in the sky. She looked up but she still couldn’t see a castle.

  “I made it! Sander, I’m here on the other side!” Her voice sounded strange as she spoke into the thick cloud, as if she was the only one in the world. For a heartstopping moment, she imagined that he might not reply. What if she was left here all alone?

  But Sander did reply. She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was clear. She couldn’t have travelled far from him.

  “Send the basket back,” he called.

  Linnell stood, slowly and carefully, and straightened the basket so that it was upright on the rocky ground. To her right was a wooden post with a pulley system attached, just as there had been on the other side. She reached out and pulled the upper rope towards her. The rope moved easily and the empty basket moved, back in the direction from which she’d come, lurching off the mountainside.

  “It’s coming!” she cried, but this time there was no response.

  Very soon, the basket was lost in the mist.

  She kept pulling on the rough rope, until she could suddenly no longer pull. It must have reached the other side.

  “Have you got it?” she cried.

  “Yes,” floated back the answer, much to her relief.

  There was a long pause, during which Linnell guessed Sander must be climbing into the basket. She hoped she would have the strength to pull him across.

  “Are you ready?” she called, after a while.

  There was a long pause. Then Sander’s voice. “Linnell, listen to me carefully. You have to keep going on your own, now. Follow the steps up.”

  Even at this distance, his voice sounded wobbly. Was Linnell imagining it, or did he seem as scared as she was? “Sander, aren’t you coming too?”

  “You won’t be able to pull the basket with me in it.”

  He was leaving her here! “Let me try! Or take me back again. Don’t let me go on alone, please!”

  Linnell didn’t want to go anywhere, especially not further up. She wanted to go home. She pulled on the lower rope, to bring the basket back to her. She would pull herself back across if necessary. But it was fixed in place. Then she pulled on the other rope. That wouldn’t budge, either. The realization washed over her: she had sent the basket back to Sander and only he could free it. She was stuck here and she had to do what he said.

  “You can’t turn back now,” he called. “I must leave you to complete this last part of the journey on your own. I’m sorry, Linnell.”

  He did sound as though he was really sorry. But for leaving her, or for something else? She couldn’t tell.

  “What?” She practically screamed the word across the gulf. “You’re abandoning me?”

  His voice drifted over to her again. “Just listen to me. Keep going up. Find the steps.”

  Linnell began to feel desperate. She looked frantically around for some steps but there was nothing. “I can’t!”

  “I will play my pipe so that you will know I am still here. Trust me.”

  Trust him? She hated him! And she hated herself. Why had she left the woods with him? He was a stranger after all, however charming and carefree. Right now, she should be sitting at the kitchen table with her father, sharing some bread and wondering whether the day would be wet tomorrow. How did she get here? She tried to steady her breathing, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. But still the panic rose up in her. She tasted acid in her throat. She might actually be sick.

  Sander’s voice floated across to her once again. “Be careful what you give to the unicorn. He can’t take anything without your permission. Do you understand?”

  He really was sending her off on her own.

  “No! I won’t go! You can’t just leave me here,” she cried.

  But there was no reply. Just the sound of Sander’s pipe. The hateful, traitorous pipe that had brought her here. “Enough,” she cried. “I never want to hear that sound again!”

  Still, she couldn’t help but listen. The tune was high and sweet. It made her think of birds. There were birds, not far below her. She had climbed higher than the birds.

  Linnell took a deep breath. She could just stand here and shout, but there was nobody to rescue her. Sander had abandoned her. She must go on. Steps. She must find the steps. She gazed around and found the steps easily. They were carved into the rock and looked narrow and steep but sturdy enough.

  The pipe continued to play and she put her foot on to the first step. There was no rail, but the rock jutted out a little at waist level, providing something for her to grip. She clung on, concentrating hard in her effort not to fall. She stepped up on to the next step. And then the next. Slowly, steadily, as the pipe music played on.

  THE CASTLE IN THE CLOUDS

  Linnell didn’t count the steps but there must have been hundreds, snaking up into the sky. She continued steadily, in time to the sound of the pipe, which grew fainter and fainter. The colour of the steps changed from dark grey to pure white as she climbed. She didn’t think about the increasingly tired muscles in her legs or her breathing. She couldn’t go b
ack, only forward.

  After a time, the pipe playing stopped. Linnell did not know if she had climbed too far for the sound to reach her or if Sander had given up on her and gone home. What would she do if Sander was no longer there when she came out? The thought of being stuck up here in the clouds forever was more than she could bear, so she pressed on.

  From up here, the clouds looked like padded cushions on to which she could jump. But every here and there, this illusion was broken by gaps in the clouds showing glimpses of the green and grey mountain landscape below. This changed as she climbed higher and higher. She stopped seeing any mountain at all through the gaps. Only the last layer of cloud. Layers and layers of cloud. It was cool, too. She shivered in her lightweight frock.

  The steps took a sharp turn to the right and Linnell finally broke through. The change came suddenly, like rising from a lake after swimming underwater. Her head poked through into a brand new world. The light was no longer dim. It was so bright that Linnell closed her eyes and stopped climbing. She gradually opened them, still squinting, and tried to take in the scene before her.

  The castle. She had reached the castle. She had never seen a castle before and she was open-mouthed at the sight before her. Towering into the sky, it must have been at least four storeys high, each floor smaller than the last. At the very top was a pointed turret, spiking upwards, reaching higher even than the giant mountains below.

  Behind it, there were no trees or buildings to obstruct her view and the bright, yellow-white sky was vast – bigger than she’d ever seen before. The blue grey clouds that she had broken through still swirled around her legs and up to her waist.

  She climbed the final steps slower than all the rest. Then the white rocky ground flattened out and she approached the castle as if in a dream. A sob rose up in her chest. It may have been relief that she was finally here, that the castle actually existed. It did seem like the kind of place where wishes would be granted. She released the sob, making a gulping sound, which sounded strange up here in the silence.

  As Linnell walked right up to the wide castle steps, she couldn’t see her feet moving: a curious sensation. From the steps, she was unable to see the top of the castle – just smooth white walls stretching up. There was no moat, no drawbridge, no guards even. This was not a building that was made for defence. But then why would it be, when nobody knew of its existence? Had any human being ever been here before her? Sander of course. But from what he had said earlier, maybe nobody else. Perhaps she was the very first female to set foot on this mountain. A proper adventurer – not a fool after all.

  Why did Sander stay away? He told her that he was unable to work the basket pulley on his own but that couldn’t be true. He had come here before on his own, hadn’t he? She would have thought that this gleaming white castle would be impossible for someone with his thirst for adventure to resist, yet he seemed happy to wait at a distance.

  There was not a sound. No birds, no voices, no wind. The clouds and the whiteness seemed to soften everything. She approached the gigantic, arched doors that were over twice her height and made of coloured glass, in subtle hues of pink, yellow and blue, interspersed with diamond-patterned leading. It was bright and beautiful, as though a rainbow had been captured there. To her right, was a long bell pull made from knotted rope. There were three wide steps leading up to the door. She walked up them, then took a deep breath and pulled on the rope. The clanging of a bell echoed from deep within the castle, and she waited.

  ICE AND MARBLE

  Who would hear the bell? Would the unicorn come to greet her at the doorway? Or did he have staff to perform such tasks? Linnell wished that she had asked more questions, despite Sander’s complaining, so that she knew what to expect. The tall doors swung inwards, but nobody was behind them. There was no one to greet her and no one to turn her away. Linnell stepped over the threshold of the castle in the clouds.

  The entrance hall was vast, white and luminous, and Linnell had to shield her eyes from the brightness. The floor was laid with marble tiles, in a circular pattern, in different shades of white and cream. Light flooded in from arched windows high above Linnell. They had the same leadwork pattern as the doors and scattered colourful little diamonds of sunlight throughout the hall. A corridor stretched straight ahead, leading into the depths of the castle. It grew dark and she could only see a few yards of marble floor. Two symmetrical marble staircases on either side of the corridor led up to a mezzanine level, at the centre of which were some more arched double doors. These doors instantly drew Linnell’s eye because they were black and all the white made them appear blacker, like a tunnel. She somehow knew that what she sought would be behind those doors.

  So, once again, Linnell began to climb. This time her legs moved automatically, as if she was being pulled towards a stronger force. She gazed around at the emptiness. Perhaps the castle had been abandoned.

  When she finally reached the two heavy double doors she could examine them more closely. They were made from a black, shining stone – quartz perhaps – and studded all over with tiny sparkling gemstones. Linnell wondered if she had just seen her first diamonds. She felt a thrill run through her. That was why she was here. What was it Sander had said? Diamonds around your neck? A dress decorated in exquisite seed pearls?

  There was no bell pull at this door. No knocker or handle. Linnell laid both her palms flat against the right-hand door, which felt cold and smooth. She pushed experimentally to see if they would shift, and to her surprise, they swung open as if they weighed nothing.

  Linnell stepped through into the room and the door swung shut behind her. Like the rest of the castle, there was nobody here and the silence was almost too much to bear. Still, there was no doubt that she had come to the right place. The sight before her was so spectacular that she didn’t have a chance to gather her thoughts; she just gazed around her.

  She had reached the throne room. Once again, everything was white, but here everything was icy and glittered with a blue tinge. She shivered and warmed herself with her arms. There didn’t appear to be any windows, but candles flickered in arched alcoves high up in pillars by the walls. Perfumed smoke, perhaps from the candles, wafted in the air. It smelled of warm fires and gingerbread, quite at odds with the frosty air. Ice sculptures stared out at Linnell from around the room. Mainly animals: eagles, deer, lions and wolves.

  Near the back wall was a great marble throne, with steps leading up to it. In the centre of the room was a round pool, frozen solid. From there to the throne was a walkway, with fountains flowing into long rectangular pools of water on either side. Pretty pinks and blues sparkled in the water. More candles lit the way, and two flaming torches in iron sconces blazed on either side of the throne.

  Linnell walked towards the pool. As she did so, she saw that the ice was crystal clear, not white, as a frozen lake might be, and she could see clouds in motion far below. She passed around it, walked along the walkway and stood before the steps to the throne. She didn’t dare climb them.

  On a plinth to the left of the throne was an astonishing sculpture of a unicorn, the size of a real-life pony, looking down on Linnell. The Greatest Unicorn, she supposed. It was white and almost translucent, without joins or lines, as though it had been carved from a single block of ice. It was incredibly realistic. Although it stood in a relaxed pose, the unicorn looked proud and somewhat stern. Its horn glinted gold and the rest of its body was a blue-tinged white.

  Linnell took in every detail. Its mane, which flowed in a sheet like a girl’s long hair. The muscly legs and the rounded muzzle. She wanted badly to touch it, and although she knew she probably shouldn’t, there was nobody there to see her. She tentatively reached up a hand and touched the sculpture lightly on its fetlock.

  It was warm. This sculpture was not made of ice, she realized with a gasp. Linnell spread out her fingers and felt its softness. Sander’s words from earlier came back to her. The unicorn was … like a diamond. But not hard like a diamond.
Strong and sinewy but still soft.

  Just as she realized that this was not in fact a sculpture at all, the unicorn reared up on to its back legs, its hooves close to Linnell’s face, and neighed as it leaped from the plinth.

  THE GREATEST UNICORN

  The unicorn’s deep neighing call was loud and unexpected, and the sudden strangeness of it sent her staggering backwards. She tripped and fell, banging her hipbone on the hard floor. She was not badly hurt – it would just be a bruise – but she stayed curled up where she was, gazing up at the majestic creature. Even the floor itself was frozen – although strangely not wet – and she shivered.

  The unicorn tilted his head slightly, looking at her with his dark blue eyes. “You may rise.”

  It was a woman’s voice, low and rasping. It was not the sound that Linnell had expected him to make. Still, Linnell rose as she had been instructed to do, and saw a woman standing behind the unicorn. She must have been the one who spoke. She was old, leaning on a staff, and she wore a floor length white gauze dress. Her wrinkled skin and long plaited hair were both pale, which gave her a ghostly appearance, yet she looked more solid than the unicorn. Who was she and how did she get into the room? Linnell hadn’t seen anyone enter after her.

  The woman spoke again. “I work for the Greatest Unicorn. My master doesn’t share your language, so I will interpret for him.”

  Linnell nodded and stared at the unicorn again. She felt she should say something. She dropped a clumsy curtsey and said, “Your Majesty.”

  The unicorn perked his ears slightly forwards. Wispy white steam emerged from his nostrils as he breathed gently.

  “He says you look cold.”

  Linnell nodded.

  “This will pass.”

  And strangely, it did pass. Warmth spread through her. Was it his magic?

  “You have come here for a reason?”

  Linnell nodded. She knew what she wanted to ask for but was too scared to speak. “Fine things. Freedom,” she managed eventually. Her voice sounded small and silly.