The Darkest Unicorn Read online

  “Play with him, this time,” said Sander. “Don’t try to copy his song. Play your own melody but don’t get too absorbed in the mechanics of what you are doing. Listen to the bird.”

  Thandie could only remember one tune. The Essendor song. It had been popular before she was born, at the time of Queen Bia. A minstrel had written it especially for the young queen. Under the reign of Zelos the people had not been allowed to sing or play about the Midnight Unicorn, who had been a loyal protector of the queen and her people, but disappeared when Zelos came to the throne. Still, many sang in secret. Thandie’s mother sang it to Thandie in her cradle and taught her to play it on the pipe when she was older. Later, after her mother had disappeared, Zelos had gone, and the unicorn had returned, people had started singing it in the open again. Everyone played it: in the schoolrooms and in the streets. Thandie had played it so often that her fingers remembered. The words looped in her mind as she played.

  “In Essendor, at Wintertide,

  Wrap up warm and come outside.

  As the snow begins to fall,

  The unicorn protects us all.

  Midnight black against the white,

  In the silence of the night,

  Take my hand and dance with me,

  In Essendor, we’re all born free.”

  It was a strange song to play on an early morning in midsummer and she tried not to think about the memories it stirred. Her first winter at Madam Tilbury’s, roasting chestnuts on the fire and eating them so hot that she and the others all got blisters on their fingertips. Learning to play the pipe with her mother by the hearth. Sitting on the roof with Finch and Hetty when Tib was too young to join them, staring into the woods and hoping to catch a glimpse of the Midnight Unicorn.

  Thandie pushed the memories away, instead focusing on the tune and playing it for her new friend, the blackbird. This time she played it better than ever before.

  When she had finished, Sander raised his eyebrows slightly and smiled. “See? Learning from the birds. Now give me back my pipe. I miss it.”

  Their music lesson became a regular occurrence, every time they stopped for a break, and at both sunrise and sunset. Thandie enjoyed it and knew she was improving fast, although she would never be as good as Sander. When Sander played, Thandie forgot she was even listening to music; the melodies shut out everything else. She did wonder if the pipe was enchanted, but her own squeaky notes when she blew too hard put paid to that idea. Perhaps it was Sander himself, with his strange ways, who was the enchanted one, not the wooden pipe.

  HUNTING

  Thandie

  When they had finished the last of the food that Thandie had taken from Madam Tilbury’s, they picked a few berries and mushrooms. Thandie trusted Sander to know which ones were safe to eat. He was the adventurer, after all.

  But berries and mushrooms were not enough to sustain them and by the evening, Thandie’s stomach was growling. “Where will we next be able to find proper food?”

  Sander looked quite relaxed about it. “It’s easy. How do you think I feed myself on most evenings? We will go hunting.”

  “With what?” asked Thandie. Sander was carrying a lot with him but she had yet to see a bow and arrow or other hunting weapon.

  “I seem to remember that you are quite handy with a catapult,” said Sander, reaching his hand to his bruised eye. The swelling had gone down but it was still a pale yellow and a little bloodshot.

  This was the first time he had mentioned the catapult incident since it had happened. Thandie felt embarrassed, but she refused to admit it and held her chin high. She had been in the right. She took the catapult out of her pocket, immediately thinking of Tib. “I doubt I’d be able to hunt much with this. A sparrow perhaps, or a couple of caterpillars.”

  “Well then it’s lucky I have my pipe. As I explained to you on our first night, I am able to charm most creatures, which will help in our quest for dinner. Come with me and you can watch me in action.”

  Sander left his bags where they were and pushed his way into some nearby bushes and closely-growing trees. Thandie followed him and they crouched down together, peering out through the branches.

  “There is a lot of wildlife at this time of the evening if you know where to search,” Sander whispered, pointing to the green slope, where a dozen brown furry creatures the size of beavers, but without the tail or the big teeth, were scurrying about.

  They were not the most attractive animals, with large feet and stubby horns behind their rounded ears. Some of them scuttled about seemingly searching for food, while others rose up on their hind legs, alert to danger. “What are they?” asked Thandie.

  “Grats. Short-horned grats, by the looks of things. ”

  “Grats?”

  “Yes. They tend to come out at dawn and dusk to search for food. As you’ve noticed, not many travellers venture this way so they are not used to hunters. Also, they are not particularly bright.”

  Thandie peered at them. Poor things. “I see. And they’re good to eat?”

  “They’re quite tough but surprisingly tasty.”

  The creatures on guard looked in the direction of their hiding place and gradually began to disappear behind rocks and into burrows. They were getting away! But Sander seemed unperturbed. He removed his pipe from the sheath on his belt and began to play. He left the cover of the bushes as he did so, ducking his head to avoid the branches, and sat in plain view.

  One of the grats stopped suddenly in front of a rock and turned, ears pricked up at the sound of the music. Sander did not look up, did not pay it any attention. It was as if he had not even noticed; he just continued to play. The grat began hopping away from the rest of its pack, in a direct line to Sander. Sander still did not look up but he must have been aware that the grat was approaching, because his tune changed, mimicking the creature’s ungainly hops.

  It was only when the grat was just a few feet away that Sander made eye contact with the animal, which froze, nose twitching, as if bewitched. Sander continued to play with his right hand and rummaged in his pocket with the other one. He brought out something small and bright. Thandie couldn’t see what, but it looked like a feather. He tucked it into the end of the pipe, stopped playing, covered the sound hole and blew hard.

  The grat’s nose stopped twitching and it fell to the floor, the feather sticking out of its neck.

  Sander’s tune stopped. The animal was dead.

  “As easy as that.” Sander turned and grinned proudly as he went to fetch their evening meal.

  Thandie didn’t grin back.

  “I wouldn’t concern yourself with it too greatly,” said Sander. “The darts have a poisoned tip, so it would have been killed outright. Anyway, grats breed so quickly that their numbers are always increasing and the others probably won’t even notice that this one’s gone.”

  Sander had obviously interpreted her reaction as squeamishness, which wasn’t strictly accurate.

  Although Thandie had felt uneasy watching the encounter, it was not the creature’s demise that bothered her. Rather it was the way that Sander had lured the grat to him. When she had watched him just now playing his pipe, sitting on the rock, and looking as if he had no idea there was an audience, she was reminded of the first time she had seen him, outside Essendor’s city walls. She had thought that night in Essendor that she was the clever one, waiting in the shadows and biding her time to approach. But perhaps he had known all along that she was there and was just waiting for her to approach. Perhaps he had even chosen the most suitable tune.

  Sander’s music had a power that she was only just beginning to understand. Perhaps he had lured her to him, just like a humble horned grat. The grat was destined for the pot, but what did Sander have in mind for her?

  ARVALE

  Thandie

  They trudged around the mountain, following a similar pattern of pipe-playing, walking, resting, hunting and eating. With all the walking and only Sander to talk to, each day felt much longer
than usual. They stayed off the road to avoid being seen and to keep shaded from the sun, and the routine seemed to work – they didn’t meet a soul. The Grey Mountain gradually became greener as they moved around to the other side. On the third day, they walked all morning and for most of the afternoon. It was the perfect walking weather – dry but not too hot – and they made good progress. By late afternoon, Thandie could see the village of Arvale on the other side of the valley. Positioned by the edge of one of the larger lakes, it was a pretty little place with a church, a tavern, a village square and quaint wooden houses decked with flowers. Even from their position looking down on the village, Thandie could see that people were going about their daily lives, fishing in the lake, chatting in the streets, children playing. They wore colourful clothes and looked … normal.

  “I expected Arvale to look sad,” said Thandie.

  “How could a village look sad?” It was the first thing that Sander had said in some time.

  “I don’t know. But Arvale has lost three young people to the unicorn – that must surely have an effect on a place of its size. I certainly didn’t think it would have such pretty flowers everywhere.”

  Sander did not reply. He was definitely quieter than usual as he led Thandie along a smaller, higher winding path that bypassed the village and led up the mountain behind. He pointed to a cluster of dilapidated wooden houses nestled in the green slopes. “I believe that Linnell came from over there.”

  Thandie gazed at the houses. Even from this distance she could sense the melancholy atmosphere. Thandie tried to imagine what it would have been like for Linnell, living in such a place. The views were breathtaking, but there was absolutely nothing here: no tavern, no blacksmith, no shops. It was a lonely place, and looked to be over an hour’s walk even from Arvale village. She could see why Linnell might have followed a stranger away, seeking a better life. Thandie herself had dreamed of adventure on numerous occasions but at least she’d had the whole city of Essendor to explore right on her doorstep.

  The path grew steeper and they passed cattle grazing in the pastures, a cow barn, a well and an old iron cartwheel. But no people. Apart from the animals, which seemed well cared-for, this place felt abandoned. It was possible that Linnell’s father had died – Sander had said he was old – or moved away, although this didn’t seem to be the sort of place from which people would move. All the houses were in an unloved state, with broken shutters and peeling paint.

  “Do you know which is … was … her house?” she asked Sander.

  “No.”

  They continued along the path and Thandie was relieved when they reached the first house and saw an elderly woman sitting outside on the porch. The place was not abandoned after all. The woman had a woollen blanket over her knees despite the warmth of the day and looked up at them expectantly. Thandie looked at Sander but he did nothing, so she approached the porch herself. “Excuse me, Madam,” she said, and the woman stood up with more energy and vitality than Thandie had expected, given her age.

  She scrutinized Thandie, looking her up and down slowly. “Can I help you, my dear?”

  “We, er…” Again she looked to Sander for support but he was a little way away, scuffing his foot in the dusty track. “We are looking for Linnell’s father.”

  The woman hesitated. For a moment, Thandie thought she was going to give her bad news. Perhaps he had died.

  “I see,” said the old woman, slowly. “Yannick Redfern lives just opposite – right there.”

  “Many thanks.”

  “Have you come far?”

  “From Essendor.”

  “I see,” she said again. Maybe the woman thought that they brought news of Linnell. Thandie must be careful when speaking to Linnell’s father that he didn’t get the same impression.

  Thandie followed the woman’s directions to the house opposite. Sander continued to hang back, which puzzled Thandie. Why come all this way and then show so little interest? He was probably feeling guilty about having seen Linnell and done nothing, but she wished he could put it aside and support her now.

  “Knock loudly,” called the woman. “Yannick is a little hard of hearing.”

  Thandie raised her hand to indicate that she’d heard. She walked up the wooden steps to the house, crossed the small veranda and knocked sharply on the door. She brushed herself down as she waited for someone to answer. She must look a state after travelling for so long. Nobody came. Thandie glanced back at the old woman, who was still watching them from the porch. Surely she would know if Linnell’s father had gone out for the day. She looked like the sort of woman who knew everything.

  Just as Thandie was about to knock again, the door opened slowly, revealing an old man with a grey beard and tired eyes. His expression was strangely blank and he barely seemed to register them.

  “Farmer Redfern?”

  The old man didn’t respond; he just stood there, blinking. Thandie wondered if the effects of old age had set in. Would this poor man be of any help to them?

  “It is nothing urgent,” she stammered, not wanting to get his hopes up. “We were just hoping that we could ask you some questions about your daughter, Linnell?” Thandie turned to Sander for support, but although he was now standing behind her, he was looking off in the other direction. “Not that we know where she is,” she added quickly.

  At the mention of Linnell, something about the man’s manner changed and his blue eyes filled with tears. He looked from Thandie to Sander as if seeing them for the first time and ushered them inside. “Come, come.” It struck Thandie as a remarkably trusting act. He was still hospitable to strangers, despite everything that had happened.

  The house was small, dark. It smelled of damp moss, polished wood, and lost hope.

  He led them to the table, where there were only two chairs. “Please, sit.”

  Sander refused and stood near the door, resting against the wall. Thandie took the nearest seat while Farmer Redfern put a kettle on the stove. “Something to eat,” he muttered, as if to himself.

  “Please don’t go to any trouble, Farmer Redfern,” said Thandie.

  “Yannick, please,” he insisted. “I have some potted meat here. And some bread. Please eat. You have been travelling. You must be weary.” He brought the items over with some tin plates and knives. Thandie thanked him and helped both herself and Sander to some food. Sander moved towards the table to eat his but continued to stand. Yannick took the other seat.

  “So, you are trying to find my daughter and the others?” He looked interested but weary. “Do you know where she is – my girl?”

  Thandie was surprised at how calmly he asked the question. Perhaps others had been to see him in this way before and his hopes had been dashed. She hesitated for a moment before replying. She wanted to tell him everything she knew. About the unicorn in the clouds and about the stolen memories. Thandie was sure she could trust him to keep it to himself; he would do anything to have his daughter back and he wouldn’t compromise their quest by giving the information away.

  She glanced at Sander, asking the question silently with a raise of her eyebrows, but he shook his head in response: a tiny but definite movement. Could he not speak for himself?

  Thandie turned back to Yannick “I’m so sorry, I can’t tell you anything about where we are going, but we heard of her whereabouts from a … trusted source. We think that she is still alive.”

  “I know that she is still alive,” said the old man. “Many years ago, when my wife died, I knew she had gone. Something was taken from me along with her. But with Linnell…” Yannick trailed off, seemingly unable to put his thoughts into words.

  Thandie wanted to say something to make him feel better. “We think – we hope – that we might know where to find them. Anything you can tell us will help.”

  “You want me to tell you about Linnell.” The old man paused, clasping his hands together, eyes roaming around the room as if looking for answers. “Where shall I begin?” he asked.


  “At the beginning, I suppose,” said Thandie. She turned to Sander for confirmation or some kind of support but he said nothing. It was frustrating.

  Yannick looked at his hands and coughed. “The beginning. We thought that we were not to be blessed with children, but then Linnell came along late in our lives. A little miracle. She was just tiny when her mother died. They told me I wouldn’t be able to bring her up alone. That I was an old man and she needed a mother. My sister, who lives in the east of the kingdom, would have taken her. But I knew … or I felt … when I looked at her big blue eyes … that she needed me. Or maybe I needed her.”

  Thandie nodded, tears pricking at her eyes. She had never known her father and she knew what it was like to grow up without a mother. Yannick cleared his throat and continued. “As she grew, she became more like her mother to look at, with beautiful long fair hair, and the same singing voice. But there was always something about her that was her very own – a certain spirit that was pure Linnell. It was as if she were destined for something special—”

  Sander’s knife rattled on the plate as he placed it back on the table, interrupting Yannick. Thandie gave Sander a sharp look.

  “Please, Farmer Redfern, talk us through the day she went missing,” said Sander. His voice sounded strangely formal – not like Sander at all. Or at least not like the Sander that Thandie knew.

  Yannick stared at him for a moment, as if he too were not taken in by Sander. But he obliged with the story of her disappearance, which he must have relayed countless times over the past two years.

  “Linnell liked to take her schoolbooks to the woods, where it was quiet. I didn’t mind – she needed her freedom and it had always been such a safe place here. I knew straight away when she didn’t return for her noontime meal that something was wrong. I waited a little and then sent Piet, our farmhand, to look for her. He searched in all the usual places: the barn, the woods, but she was nowhere. He went to Arvale to get more men. A big group came, looking everywhere and shouting her name. I wanted to go but they told me I must wait here in case she returned. They told me she would be back by nightfall.