Chapter 10: The Ordeal of the Tower
EGORAVEN: HEIR OF THE FIRST UNICORN - The Novelization adaptation of the comic series
The door screeched as a waft of musty air met the unicorn’s sensitive nose, making it wrinkle. Egoraven cautiously entered, the interior hidden by the blackness inside. “Great—another dark room,” she muttered as her large ears scanned for any sign of danger.
Clearing the entryway, the door creaked back into its frame, enclosing her inside. As with the bottom of the tower, Egoraven’s horn glowed with a faint light, enough to comfort her but not enough to see anything clearly.
Scanning the room, she squinted, waiting for her vision to adjust before deciding to do anything. Because of her strange dreams, the darkness did not frighten her as she thought it would, especially compared to the treacherous steps that led her there. Instead, she was overwhelmed by how familiar it was.
The shapes of columns flanking recessed alcoves appeared, revealing arched windows crisscrossed with colorful glass that would have sparkled brilliantly in sunlight had there been any. Each alcove was the same—pillars and windows circling with confusing similarity.
“Where’s the door?” A rush of panic shot through her as she searched for the entrance she had just come through. The pattern of columns and windows remained the same, except it didn’t—now there were more columns and windows than she had initially remembered. Pirouetting on her hooves, the round room expanded with more columns and windows. “How am I supposed to get out of here?” Her ears twitched nervously.
“You don’t…”
The windows disappeared as the room dropped into darkness again, followed by a chittering emanating from the black. Egoraven gasped as the hair on the back of her neck stood, and her skin prickled. She had heard that sound before.
Yellow eyes with diamond pupils stared back, the growling louder as the Rakans in gleaming armor slinked out and surrounded the unicorn.
Egoraven’s heart thumped in her chest as she slowly backed away. The raptor-like dragons held no weapons but were still lethal with their large, curved claws prominent in the dim light. As with the windows, the Rakans multiplied with every glance back at them. Her eyes locked with the dragon directly ahead of her, watching in horror as the diamonds in a sea of yellow retracted to pinpoints. Whipping its tail, it launched into the air. She let out a scream.
Instead of a crash she was sure would end her entire journey, Egoraven choked on a cloud of frigid air. Coughing violently, she looked through stinging, hazy eyes and saw the other Rakans charging. Without time to think, she crouched and stretched out one hand defensively while shielding her face, bracing herself as they descended.
The feel of the cold snatched her breath—the fear of dragons replaced with the inability to breathe. Smoke swirled, filling the air with the smell of ozone. Regaining her senses, she looked around—the dragons were gone. A wisp of frosty air clung to her hand where the initial impact had happened. “They’re ghosts?” she asked no one as she toyed with it.
Before she could question further, Egoraven caught a flash of light. Looking down, she was now kneeling on grass instead of the stone floor of the tower. Sunlight struck her vision, and she shielded her eyes from the sudden change. The wind blew through her hair as she overlooked the meadow and the surrounding forest. Trying to orient herself, she took a deep breath, relishing being outside again; however, there was an uneasiness about it. This had to be a dream. The meadow. The Rakans. The tower was what was real, and she was still inside it. But it was doing something—making her see these visions. They were different from her healing trance, but were visions just the same.
A shadow crossed before her. With a spin, Egoraven expected another Rakan, barely avoiding crashing into a rearing second unicorn, a large bronze mare shining brilliantly in the sunlight, her horn raised like a spear.
“Lilith!” Egoraven felt her heart stop. For a vision, this was eerily real.
“Why can’t you accept that you do not belong here?” roared the bronze unicorn..
“Belong where?” Egoraven blurted. “In Edinrahn?” She pointed to the ground, forcing herself to remember. “In this chamber?”
Lilith ignored her words. “What can you offer us? You are not a unicorn but a shadow of one. Alaric’s first mistake was falling for an Eihdan’s pet. His second was not driving you out, instead of pretending they would accept you as one of their own.” She pranced around with an unnatural grace, even for unicorns. Egoraven’s throat tightened at the accusations.
“Alaric was not pretending! He was doing what was best—” She felt lightheaded keeping up with Lilith, who would not stop circling her.
“For whom? Certainly not for us.” Lilith tossed her mane derisively and snorted. “For the elves? You are nothing but one of their playthings— to be discarded when their use of you is finished.”
Egoraven swished her tail in agitation. “Their use of me?”
Lilith did not answer, continuing her aggressive prancing and circling. Egoraven clenched her fists, about to demand an answer, when the meadow disappeared, and the darkness returned. As she shook her head, deft fingers wrapped around her throat as another hand painfully clawed her breast.
“Of course, you have a use. Do you think my want of you is because of any bond? That my father cared for you other than for your potential?” Rillian growled as his grip tightened, his nails digging into her flesh as he pulled her into him. He continued breathing in her ear. “To give us abomination after abomination until we can breed out the worst of you to get our magic back. To rule Edinrahn as masters of our fate.”
His voice was cruel and mocking, yet Egoraven could not resist feeling every inch of him pressing against her—his inseam straining, his hands tightening further on her throat and breast—and a rushing of heat shooting from her core.
“I am not your broodmare whore!” Egoraven screamed as she broke from his grasp, trying to shake the flush from her face and the sudden ache low in her belly that wouldn’t let up.
Rillian started laughing. “You could have fooled me,” he taunted. “No matter what I did, no matter what I did to you, your body betrayed you. Your body betrays you now as your mouth says otherwise.” He bared his teeth in a predatory grin. “You will always belong to me,” he jeered.
Humiliated and filled with rage, Egoraven charged with a cry, every ounce of her strength backing the punch she readied. Fist connected to flesh, but the result was not the shattering jaw of an elf prince. Large, clawed digits closed on her now tiny hand.
“You are a princess, remember?” Bilakath appeared from the shadows, towering over Egoraven, staring down with glowing eyes. “What use does anyone have for a princess other than to be a broodmare whore?”
Egoraven tried to twist her hand from his. “Let go of me! You’re a ghost! You’re not real!”
“But what I say is,” he continued. “Your place is either by my side or beneath my foot. Either way, the dragons will control the unicorns or destroy them.” The dragon lord was unfazed by her continued struggling.
“I will kill you and every last one of your followers!” Egoraven yelled at him.
“Every last one?” Releasing her, Bilakath waved beside him where a black unicorn with a bronze mane and horn appeared.
Egoraven’s breath hitched. Blackavar looked much larger than the last time she saw him. “Black! No! Impossible!” she cried. Blackavar did not react. He looked on with unseeing eyes, and a jeweled collar sparkled around his neck.
“Impossible, what?” Bilakath asked. “That the herd you want to save feeds my power?” With his words, another unicorn appeared on his opposite side.
A scream escaped as she barely recognized Alaric, his powerful body reduced to a dull coat pulled over protruding bones. Jumping back, she hugged herself. “It’s not real. It’s just a nightmare—the tower is making these visions from my memories…” Tears stung her eyes. “They’re not true,” she said unconvincingly.
“You don’t have a chance to save anyone—not even yourself!” Bilakath’s voice rumbled louder and distorted until it turned into a roar. Egoraven covered her ears, the vibration rattling beneath her. The Raikashan’s body melded and distorted into the blackness, the icy fog swirling as he transformed. Great silver wings scattered the mist, revealing the elongated form of another dragon—the First dragon.
“Miraon!” Her cry was met with a blast of cold and fire.
Egoraven awoke with a jolt and a soft rolling hum in her ears. Taking in the scent of seawater, her cheek pressed against warm white sand that partially buried her fingers. Slowly sitting up, she took in her surroundings. The blackness was replaced with an equally unnatural whiteness all around. Beneath her, the sand sprawled out into a small dune. Water lapped at her hooves, tracing the beach with a thin, foamy line. Looking out, the unicorn woman felt oddly at peace, watching how the water went endlessly, then faded into the nonexistent horizon.
Was this what an ocean looked like? She had never seen one before. Daniel told her stories about the sea and how his uncle would take the family sailing. Then they would play on a beach like this one. She also remembered reading in her books how the ocean was a treacherous place, filled with sea monsters and pirates. Could such a thing be both at once? She imagined what it would be like to be on a beach watching the ocean with Daniel and his family, and a small smile crossed her face.
She felt another presence, noticing the reflection of a white unicorn in the water, blending with the foam.
“Arias,” Egoraven softly spoke without turning around. “Where am I?”
Arias kept her place on the dune, her hooves making no marks where she stood. “A place you are not supposed to be,” she answered as ghostly images of other unicorns appeared in the distance.
A heaviness overcame Egoraven as she watched the ghosts prance on the water. “They are all dead… There are so many of them…” She sat quietly, tears streaking her face at the realization she had been away for too long. Ears twitching and tail stroking the sand, Egoraven recognized them, even in their ethereal glow, and softly recited each of their names. None of them took notice of Egoraven or the guardian who watched over them. There was no sound except gentle waves until a black and dapple stallion passed.
“Amadaeo!”
A choking sob escaped as she jumped to her hooves and into the water, frantically calling out to her uncle as she splashed water and sand everywhere. Arias jumped from her dune, floating before Egoraven and blocking her path.
“Your place is no longer by his side,” she answered sternly, bringing Egoraven’s focus back to her. “You must return to the Valley.”
Egoraven blinked. “I—I don’t know if I’m ready…” The words barely came out. Returning to the shore, she fell back onto the sand, ignoring her soaked pants and legs, watching the lines of foam darken and separate from the water. They began to snake and create a trail that Egoraven followed. The blackness returned to the sky with shooting stars appearing, then stopping as if hanging themselves on the field of solid pitch. A rust-color moon faded into view as the red trails wound toward it, culminating at the feet of the goddess herself.
“Leda… What is happening to you?” Egoraven looked over the swollen belly and blood staining her shimmering gown. Waves of dark hair floated, obstructing Leda’s face save for a crown of starlight on her brow.
“The Raikashans are forcing the First Dragon to be born again, to rule the mortal realm as their goddess on earth.” She spoke in a voice that made Egoraven shiver. “I am dying.”
Egoraven couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How is that even possible? How can the dragons kill a goddess? Why can’t Helo stop them?”
A dazzling radiance exploded, blinding her in golden light. Burying her face in her arms, Egoraven tried to shield herself, only to find even the inside of her eyelids ablaze.
“The time for gods to involve themselves in the world of Man has long passed,” boomed the voice in her head that made her cower. The sapling of magic within her that had been dormant all this time suddenly burst, pushing back against the divine power that threatened to consume the unicorn. Forcing her courage, Egoraven confronted the sun god.
“Not get involved?” she screeched blindly into the light. “The dragons are killing your goddess! Doesn’t that obligate you to get involved?”
She felt a pressure on her horn as if someone was touching it, causing her already heightened magic to surge. Egoraven gasped as the light opened, and her sight cleared, revealing a shining dagger floating before her.
The dagger was unlike any she had ever seen—made of ornately carved ivory from silver hilt to blade.
“Candidus Mors—the divine weapon that can end this,” Helo’s voice echoed in her mind. “Only you can wield it, but you must do what you need to do quickly. If the goddess dies, the balance of magic will tip and put the human world into chaos.”
Egoraven reached out and grasped the weapon. Still shielding her eyes from the never-ending illumination around her, she attempted to study it. “Do what, quickly? How am I supposed to know what to do if you won’t tell me?”
Everything went white. The blankness was just as startling as the dark and the light. However, even after being in the presence of the sun god, Egoraven was unprepared for the vision before her. Amadaeo smiled at his niece with shimmering, blue-grey eyes, his body whole. The tears burst forth uncontrolled as Egoraven looked up at him in awe, feeling as if her chest would burst.
“Not everything is a curse,” he spoke in the gentle voice that she missed more than she could ever think she could. “Alaric gave you the greatest gift an immortal can have—your human bond to the world. Do not fear it and the power it possesses.” Amadaeo reached over and nuzzled Egoraven. Embracing him, she wanted to tell him everything that happened, everything she felt, but couldn’t find the words. Instead, she buried her face in his mane, realizing she could not smell lavender. As real as he felt, he was a ghost like the others. Another vision plucked from her memories. She felt her heart break again.
“Do not fear what you find yourself needing to do,” he continued, “and becoming what you are destined…” He walked away without looking back.
Egoraven reached out to him. “But what do I—”
Darkness dropped like a heavy weight.
With a choking cough, Egoraven’s eyes snapped open. Disoriented, with her horn glowing slightly, she could tell she was on a hard, stone floor, the air around her dank and stuffy. All was still. As she tried to move, something in her hand caught her attention. Sitting up, the dagger remained in her grip.
It wasn’t a dream… I’m back.
Clutching the dagger to her chest, she staggered to her hooves, waiting for her world to shift again into visions, but nothing came.
I still don’t know what I need to do, but I know what I must…
Her face tightening, she caught the faint strip of bright light breaking the dark before her.
I must return to Edinrahn.
Egoraven walked towards the doors.
* * *
Desmond couldn’t help his pacing, fidgeting as he circled the chapel alcove for what felt like the millionth time. Johar, Morgan, and Daniel sat together quietly contemplating on one of the wooden pews lining the sides of the aisle leading to the golden gates.
The horse man whispered a repeating litany of prayers in his native tongue that had yet to stop since Egoraven disappeared through the tower doors. The fox restlessly swung his legs. Daniel sat hunched over, elbows on knees, resting his face on folded hands with his brow furrowed in worry. Across from them sat the unicorn courtesan by herself, sniffing softly into a lace handkerchief as she nervously kneaded her tail.
The guards, mage-priests, King Jason, and his councilors ignored them, spending the time in unending consultation. Desmond couldn’t hear what they were saying, save for a few escaped words. However, from what little he could deduce, they still argued about the validity and consequences of Egoraven’s offer, provided she survived.
Starting another loop around the chapel, the sorcerer regretted recommending the test. He would never forgive himself if Egoraven perished because he couldn’t think of anything else to save her. But what else was he supposed to do?
“How much longer will we have to wait?” Orchid asked between sniffles. Johar’s prayers stopped at the question.
The four stared back at the sorcerer, waiting for an answer he did not want to give. He gulped. “If the sun sets without the doors opening, the ordeal is over, and Egoraven has failed.”
Morgan wrung his hands. “What if she failed and is still in there?”
“The doors will not open.”
Johar restarted his prayer slightly louder as Daniel and Morgan glanced at each other, their faces saying everything they didn’t want to. Orchid turned her back and let out a soft sob.
The chapel fell into hushed quiet again until an intense knocking rang through the alcove. Everyone reacted to the sound, turning to each other in confusion, until they all gazed at the tower doors.
The thumping continued, and then, with a crack, the doors swung open, forced by the kicking of a determined cloven hoof. Egoraven stumbled out of the dark with labored breathing, disheveled and dirty, her long braid unraveling with loose strands sticking out every which way.
Daniel scrambled to his feet, his chest heaving, and with a relieved smile on his face. “She did it!” His voice echoed loudly, startling several mage-priests who scowled at the peasant breaking the decorum of the sacred chapel. The blacksmith didn’t care. All he could focus on was Egoraven standing, exhausted, worse for wear, but alive.
Johar lifted from his seat, his mouth agape in awe. “She did much more—she has been blessed by Helo himself and survived the experience.”
Morgan, Orchid, and Desmond stood speechless. Desmond hated to think he doubted Egoraven, but he was never so happy to be wrong.
One of the priests broke the spell. “Where did she get that? You know it is strictly forbidden to bring weapons into the Chamber!” He pointed an accusatory finger at the unicorn, his white and golden robes flailing with overdramatic movements.
Egoraven glared back, clutching the dagger even tighter, silently daring the priest to try to snatch it from her hands. At that moment, she feared nothing.
“She didn’t go in with that weapon.” King Jason stepped forward, not needing to face the indignant priest, who instinctively moved aside for his monarch. He locked eyes with Egoraven, a gesture usually reserved for other sovereigns. Eyeing the dagger, he gave a slight nod. “It is a gift…” his voice trailed as he held his hand open.
A guard appeared, brandishing an unsheathed sword that the king readily took. Without a word, Egoraven lowered her head and kneeled before him.
“Bear these blows and no others,” began King Jason, raising the blade. “In remembrance of oaths given and received. In remembrance of your lineage and obligations. Be thou a good knight.” With each line, the sword tip followed, tapping Egoraven on her shoulders. With an awkward tap beside her horn, he spoke the last of the oath. “Be thou a princess no longer. Rise, Knight Egoraven of Ternam and Lord of Edinrahn.”
A small cry escaped from the gallery as Orchid burst into tears. Morgan slumped back onto the bench, his ears drooping. “Despite all we have worked for, this isn’t the happy occasion I hoped it would be.” Daniel did not answer but placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
The king and his advisors trailed down the steps, filing out of the chapel. The remaining guards returned to their posts, and the priests who cared for the chapel retreated to their rectory. As with the trial, the ceremony of the tower ended in an anticlimactic fashion, leaving the odd troupe to gather themselves on their own. With the doors closed and the filigree gates locked, Egoraven descended the steps.
Desmond rushed up to her. “You did it,” he said, clutching her shoulders with reserved enthusiasm. He did not ask what had happened, not that she would have answered him, anyway.
Egoraven returned an equally restrained smile, still shaking off the trauma of what she had endured. She cleared her throat. “The Valley calls, and I can no longer ignore it. Will you come with me?” She braced herself for their answers.
Desmond did not hesitate and nodded.
Johar stepped forward. “To follow is the will of the Creator. It would be my honor to help you achieve what He has sent you to do.” Fist to chest, he gave a deep bow. Morgan and Daniel imitated him.
Egoraven fought back tears as she blushed intensely at the gesture. No matter her title or what happened, they were still her friends. They were not going to allow her to go through this alone.
A rush of fabric and a blur of red and gold ochre caught her attention. Orchid ran up, planting herself between the unicorn and the blacksmiths. “Please—don’t go back. The dragons will kill you the minute you set foot in Edinrahn.” Grabbing her face, the courtesan lunged in with a desperate kiss.
Egoraven’s ears pinned at the shock, then allowed herself to return the kiss, a part of her still craving those perfectly painted lips. But as they separated, she was overcome with a gamut of emotions she couldn’t place. She looked over the beautiful courtesan, Orchid’s almond eyes wide and shimmering, pleading for her to stay, her sun-kissed hands practically tearing apart the lace handkerchief.
Egoraven’s mouth twisted as she wrestled with what to say. What she had thought was love for her was marred by the rejection she had so thoroughly received. With a huff, she closed her eyes. “I need…” she choked on the words. “I need you…” Egoraven pursed her lips into a thin line as the finality of her decision dawned on her. In an instant, the softness of her face disappeared as seething rage danced behind her eyes. “I need you to go away,” she snapped, then walked around her.
Orchid let out a howl and buried her face in her hands. The blacksmiths and the sorcerer looked on with pity, knowing they could do nothing. Averting their eyes, they chose their side and followed Egoraven out of the chapel, leaving the courtesan alone.
* * *
With her return to the castle, Egoraven found herself benefiting from her newfound title. No longer an imprisoned renegade, she was transferred to a room more appropriate for her newfound lordship, with servants assigned to care for her needs while she stayed there. She hadn’t had servants since being chased out of Edinrahn, and those who served were enchanted without a choice. When she was part of Alexandria’s entourage, Johar, Morgan, and even Amadaeo were considered her attendants, so none were given to her then. She sighed at the thought of her uncle as she awkwardly watched the two women prepare the room for the night. What would he have thought of all this?
Egoraven stood aside, as out of the way as she could, self-conscious about having them at her beck and call. These were people of free will, even if they worked at the behest of a king. Preferring to do everything herself, she didn’t feel right telling anyone what to do. Still, the cheery matrons insisted she allow them to do their jobs, cooing at how it was an honor to serve such an important and special person as her. Egoraven scoffed at being considered as such, but her first official request was a hot bath.
After a good soak and scrub, Egoraven felt completely pampered as the women brushed out her hair and fur, fitted her with a nightgown and robe, and took her clothing to be laundered. Snuggling under plush covers, she couldn’t help but relish the occasion, glancing over at the nightstand where the white dagger lay. Her magic hadn’t stopped tingling since leaving the tower, and she wondered if the weapon had something to do with it. The sapling that had resisted her for so long bloomed and danced within. The feeling was pleasant, almost making her feel giddy—dare she say—magical.
She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this relaxed. Actually, she could—thinking back to her time at The Coal Horse, lying in bed and listening to the sound of the city she could almost call home. A pang of melancholy hit her. No, Edinrahn was her home, and she would be back there soon, taking back the mantle that had been so violently taken away from her. Her ears twitched. Those were thoughts for tomorrow.
Bringing her memories back to the forge, she remembered her room, then of Daniel in the room beside hers. She remembered lying there listening to him reading or writing his letters and, if lucky, catching him quietly singing the latest popular bard's song as he readied for the night. With tired eyes, she took notice of the space in the immense mattress, stretching out her arm and caressing the fine sheets. As she drifted to sleep, Egoraven wondered what it would be like to have him in the bed beside her.
* * *
The matrons returned in the morning, surprising Egoraven with a lavish breakfast of fresh fruit, delightfully warm bread, scones slathered in clotted cream and compote, as well as cinnamon rolls and muffins with butter. The meal was topped with hot tea and a sweet juice she didn’t recognize. It was way too much food for one person, much less a unicorn, but her appetite was determined to prove otherwise, since she wasn’t sure how soon she would see such a meal again. Taking a napkin, she piled as many leftovers as possible, sure that three blacksmiths and a sorcerer would appreciate the snacks. Dressing in deliciously clean clothes and tucking the ivory dagger in her belt and a bag of coins in her tunic, Egoraven juggled the overflowing parcel of pastries on her way to the royal stables.
They had agreed to meet there as Warking and the cart pony still needed to be prepared for the long trek ahead. Finding the group by the farrier forge, they fit in with the copious grooms, stablehands, and horsemasters already at work.
“Good morning, Lord Egoraven,” Desmond chirped in jest as she came into view. “How may your humble servants help you today?” Egoraven blushed at his gentle ribbing, inadvertently giving the poor pastries too hard a squish.
“Oh, please don’t do that,” she shyly replied. “I’m having a hard time enough with my actual servants.” She blushed harder at hearing herself.
Daniel chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ll miss them the second we get on the road.” He continued picking detritus from Warking’s hoof.
“Did you at least sleep well?” Johar added as he held the horse’s halter.
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” She presented the stuffed napkin. “I brought breakfast,” she blurted.
The men lit up as she unwrapped the cloth, revealing the manhandled bounty. “They looked better before,” she grimaced.
“They’re perfect!” Morgan bounced from organizing the packs, snatching a cinnamon roll, and promptly stuffing it in his mouth with a satisfied groan.
“Don’t be rude,” Johar scolded. Morgan exaggerated his chewing with loud smacking in reply. Egoraven giggled at the display. After Johar and Desmond had plucked their choices, she stood before Daniel, who didn’t stop his work.
“I’ll grab one in a minute,” he replied, smiling at Egoraven. “They smell good.”
“They’re fresh,” she answered, giving her tail a little wag. “I don’t want them to grow too cold before you get to them.”
Putting Warking’s hoof down, he wiped the pick on his pants leg. He stood and faced Egoraven, not noticing the tip of her tail wagging faster.
“They really do look delicious,” he said, not looking at the pastries. “Which one do you recommend?”
Egoraven felt hot in her collar. “Uh, the cinnamon roll, definitely. It’s the sweetest.” She picked one from the pile and handed it to Daniel.
“I’m sure it is,” he answered, his eyes not wavering as he took it with the slightest brush against her finger.
She fidgeted with the napkin as she tingled all over. “I’ll leave the rest over there if you want more.” Egoraven skipped to the window, just catching Johar, Desmond, and Morgan quickly looking away. “If you all want more,” she corrected awkwardly, arranging the pastries on the sill and popping a small muffin in her mouth.
They milled around, enjoying their reprieve. Pulling out the small bag of coins from her tunic, she handed it to Johar. The horse man looked at it, bewildered.
“It’s the first payment of my knight’s salary,” she explained. “I can’t forgive myself for losing your sword, so I hope to make amends.” She couldn’t help the shame in her voice. “There’s thirty silver. I’m sure it’s not enough, but I can—”
“Oh, Egoraven,” Johar interrupted gently, folding his hand on hers. “I cannot take your money for something that is not lost.”
Her ears perked forward. “What? But the auditors—”
“I hid it,” came the quick answer from the fox. He patted a long, wrapped parcel.
Johar smirked. “Morgan hid the sword the moment he found out about the audit. He told me when we were waiting in jail.”
Egoraven turned to Morgan with a look of shock. “Really?”
Morgan waved as he continued working on the packs. “Yeah. I didn’t want Johar to be mad at you.”
Johar let out an annoyed snort. “I wasn’t mad at her,” he snapped. He quickly faced Egoraven. “I wasn’t mad at you,” he repeated with a hint of pleading to believe him. “The way we found Amadaeo… the way we found you in that garden… I was so worried, I—” His ears pinned at the memory. “I just forgot about the sword.”
Her mouth fell open. “But you told me never to lose it—”
“Forget what I told you.” Johar embraced her tightly. “I can remake the sword. There is only one of you.”
Egoraven’s heart skipped. Returning the hug, she felt relief wash through her. As he pulled away, she felt tiny, clawed hands grab hers. She looked down at the fox.
“The horn is there, too,” Morgan whispered. “Just so you know.”
It was way too many emotional shifts for this early in the morning.
Desmond was licking his fingers, finishing off the cinnamon roll, when he heard an unusual number of footsteps heading in their direction. Sucking his teeth and wiping his hands on his tunic, he was startled by the group of men wearing white and gold surcoats emblazoned with embroidered suns on the front.
“I’m glad to see you enjoying your breakfast, wizard,” came the sarcastic comment from a tall knight with stringy blond hair just past his shoulders as his six companions in identical armor and surcoats flanked the sides. None of them looked happy to be there. “We have come by the order of King Jason.” He punched his chest at the announcement.
Everyone stared at the men. Egoraven lifted herself from the windowsill, clapping the last pastry crumbs off her hands, and straightened her back. “And you are…?”
The blond knight bowed, more out of trained decorum than respect. “Marco Augustin—Champion and leader of the King’s Riders. We have been commanded to accompany you to Edinrahn.”
The unicorn quickly looked them over. She had heard of the famed king’s guards but had never seen them until now. It was said that being in their company was the equivalent of being with the king. But to Egoraven, they weren’t the king and couldn’t help but be suspicious.
“So, King Jason now believes in this cause to dedicate his Riders?”
It was apparent Marco did not appreciate the question. “It would be foolish to believe we follow you of our own volition. We have sworn our lives to the realm and do as our king commands.”
Egoraven nodded. “If you are sworn by duty, I would certainly be a fool to turn your help away.”
It was an agreement, no matter how reluctant.
“We have a serious concern,” Marco continued. “Edinrahn has been entrapping humans for as long as there have been people to tell the stories. I will not turn on my king, but I will not risk bringing my men harm by enchantment.” He became irate at the thought. “How do you intend to protect us?” He pointed a finger at her. “What good is your valley if the very people sent to help you cannot return to the lord they have sworn to?”
A flinch broke her attempt at stoic poise. “My magic has protected me for so long, I have forgotten that mortals cannot enter Edinrahn without becoming entrapped,” Egoraven answered.
“That is some detail to forget!” Morgan replied, his eyes wide and ears flat.
Daniel folded his arms and leaned toward her. “You can’t enter Edinrahn alone. Even with a small group like ours, you’ll stand a better chance against the dragons with some help instead of none.”
Desmond fingered his pendant. “I’m sure my magic will protect me. At least I have personal experience with that.”
Daniel tilted his head. “Personal experience?”
The sorcerer pursed his lips. “Her father tried long ago to take me for the elves, but couldn’t. My magic just isn’t strong enough to protect everyone.”
A grunt came from the horse man. “My faith protects me. I have no fear,” he answered with all certainty.
“You believe that?” Morgan asked. “That still leaves me and Daniel vulnerable.”
The knights were losing patience with the conversation. “Well, I’m glad you feel personally protected by Helo himself, but I need an actual guarantee if we come with you. If your wizard can’t protect us, and you can’t protect us, then how will we protect you?”
Egoraven’s ears twitched in realization, and she rushed to the packs. “I can protect you. Desmond may not have enough magic, but I do… we do…”
“We?” Desmond uttered.
Carefully unwrapping the sword, she revealed the horn that cradled against it, just as Morgan had said. “Amadaeo and I survived beyond the Valley because of our common bond.” Leaving the sword behind, she caressed the horn as she spoke. “That bond will now belong to all of us.” With a heavy sigh, she stood, walking past everyone toward the forge. She placed it reverently on the anvil, pointing at it.
“Daniel… break it.” It was a command, but her expression belied otherwise.
Daniel sputtered at what he was being asked to do. “What? No! I can’t—this is all you have left of your uncle—" The blacksmith rushed up. “Egoraven, please reconsider. There has to be another way. Desmond knows a whole college full of wizards. Maybe someone can—”
She lowered her eyes, tears stinging at the edges. “My magic is linked to his horn. Creating talismans from the pieces will be the only way I can protect all of you.”
Their eyes met again, and a spark flashed on her horn, reflecting on the horn resting on the anvil. At that moment, he understood there was no magic any human could wield that could help. Losing himself in shimmering pools of brown flecked with gold, he also knew there was nothing she could ask of him that he wouldn’t do.
“Are you sure…?” he whispered as he wrapped his fingers around hers.
“Like you said, I can’t do this alone…” She squeezed his hand in return.
With a long exhale, Daniel reluctantly released his hold and grabbed a nearby hammer. Taking his place at the anvil, he lingered, feeling the ivory and stroking the spiral grooves. He thought of the black and dapple unicorn with his dry humor and even drier manner of speaking. Despite his stern demeanor, he had shown nothing but kindness to them. He then thought of their private conversations and the unicorn's advice that ultimately brought him to Varcyn. Amadaeo deserved so much better than this.
With a decisive strike, Daniel brought down his hammer.
* * *
The red moon hung full and bloated in the dark sky. The brush of the forest floor rustled violently, interspersed with yelps and whines from delicate limbs being whipped by unyielding branches. An ankle caught in a twisted root sent a lithe figure crashing, her companion rushing to her side.
“I can’t… I can’t go on…” she whimpered, resigned to her fate.
The elfess urged the other. “You must! They will bring us back to the dragons if they catch us.”
“What difference will it make? There is no more that those creatures can do to us.” She lowered herself further, her tears long gone. “Dying would be a mercy compared to them keeping us alive.”
Frantically trying to free the twisted foot, the elfess heard their hunters approaching. “No! We can find the others…” She felt fingernails yielding as she clawed at the gnarled tree growth. A loud chittering echoed too closely.
A Rakan brandishing a blade gleaming in the moonlight poured from the shadows as its matching pair appeared from the other end of the thicket. Even if the elfess could free the other from the tangled mess of roots, their means of escape were blocked. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she threw herself on her fallen kin, shielding her from their captors closing in—their pupils flickering with the want to kill but being ordered not to.
A whistling pierced the air, followed by a squawk and a heavy thud. The elfess glanced up at the fading light of a yellow eye staring unseeing back at her with an arrow sticking out of its temple. Frenzied squealing, followed by a defiant roar, came from the other direction. She grinned and cried at what she saw, shaking the other elfess to wake.
Two unicorns attacked the Rakan with practiced synchronicity, impaling the beast and working in tandem to avoid the lethal claws and weapon. More rustling revealed three male elves brandishing bows, the apparent source of the arrow. The female elves in their tattered gowns lunged into their arms with hysterical tears.
“Shhhh… you’re with friends now…” said the elf with red-brown hair as he comforted the escapees. Needing to leave quickly lest there were Raikashan handlers nearby, the elfesses were helped onto unicorn backs. Following a trail of moonlight and glowing horns, they made their way back into the depths of the forest, leaving the raptor bodies to rot.
* * *
It had been almost a week since the convoy of seven knights, three blacksmiths, a sorcerer, and a unicorn started their travel to the forbidden territory of Edinrahn. Through sun and rain, they slowly made their way to a kingdom no sane mortal would dare to go near. And ever since the dragons took over the castle at its center, it was even more foolish still.
The earlier part of the trek was more manageable, with small towns and hamlets welcoming the strangers and offering accommodation. The peasants marveled at hosting the renowned knights of the King’s retinue, especially the unicorn woman, who captured the imagination with her prowess at tournaments and survival of the sacred tower. As the journey continued, the villages, with their hospitable welcomes, became fewer and fewer, and the trek became rougher. Warm beds and prepared food were replaced with uncomfortable sleeping rolls on hard ground, with campfires cooking whatever beast was unlucky to cross their path.
The King's Riders and the blacksmiths mostly kept to each other’s company, with Egoraven and Desmond serving as a bridge between them. Egoraven was dressed in her new armor and surcoat, matching the accompanying knights, albeit in a different cut to distinguish a lower rank. She felt snubbed by the more seasoned members who kept to themselves, but at least Marco and his second, Lucas, were trying to include her in discussions. She clutched the crude talisman tied with a simple cord around her neck. The journey was going to be long in more ways than one.
After another night of camping, signs of an upcoming town began appearing on the stretch of road flanking overgrown fields.
Lucas stared at a faded board tacked to a post. The name was illegible, but that didn’t keep the young knight from being excited to see it. “Finally! We’ve been on the road for what seems like forever! I’m looking forward to a proper bed.”
Marco stared at the sign with less enthusiasm. “I do not think this is a place you want to stop in,” he replied as they came across what was left of the gates.
The hope of being welcomed again with warm hearths and hearty meals disappeared at the first empty shanty. Wallboards jutted in all directions, long separated from their frame, with enough of a collapsed roof to offer the most minimal protection from the elements. The following cottages were the same—abandoned, decrepit, and in the process of being reclaimed by the land on which it was built. Dismounting, the groups separated to investigate.
An eerie pall hung over the remaining husk of the town. Scavengers, both human and animal, had long picked everything clean. A solemn patch in a nearby field held a crude attempt at a cemetery with mounds partially hidden in the unsown grass. Whoever was here last, at least, had the decency to honor those left behind. The knights walked through each structure looking for any signs of life, finding nothing. The blacksmiths, the sorcerer, and the unicorn did the same.
Morgan shuddered. “What in Helo’s name happened here?” He kept his voice low, lest he inadvertently wake something he shouldn’t.
Desmond made an odd gesture, causing a swirling light to flash in his palm. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t magical,” he answered. “There’s no sign of any spell work—malignant or otherwise.”
Johar and Daniel poked around a collapsed doorway as Egoraven explored an abandoned shed nearby. His curiosity piqued, Daniel poked through a pile of rubble with his staff. With a jab and a heave, he pulled his prize out—an enormous skull with an intact row of vicious, jagged teeth. “Dragons,” he announced, dangling it from its eye socket and gulping at how massive the monster was. He had only known dragons from fairy tales and storybooks, and this skull was bigger than the head of the largest horse he had ever seen.
The horse man kicked over another pile of rubble. “There are more dragons here,” he replied, revealing the cache of shattered yet recognizable bones. He let out a snort as his tail gave an agitated swish.
“Well, at least we are sure they can be killed.” Marco unconvincingly tried to sound upbeat as the knights found more evidence of the creatures.
“But you don’t see any survivors, do you?” Desmond was shaken by the realization that they may be underestimating what they were getting into. Only Egoraven looked at the skulls without reaction.
Marco stepped into an empty shell of a structure that could have been anything. Creaking floorboards alerted him to another person joining him inside. Lucas greeted him with terrified eyes.
“We have been through so many things in our past,” his second-in-command started in a voice so low he was almost hissing. “Seen so many things… but nothing like this.” Marco let him speak as he walked around the space, looking at nothing. Lucas continued. “Captain, to overtake Edinrahn—an already cursed place—after seeing this—is more than foolhardy…”
Marco turned back to him. “It’s folly, I know,” he answered back cooly. “It is not our place to question the will of our king. He believes Edinrahn and its latent magic will be a jewel in Ternam’s crown. I cannot lie and say a small group like ours can take on dragons. If this town couldn’t, then we certainly can’t.”
Lucas was taken aback by Marco’s nonchalant response. “Then why risk our lives?”
Marco paced cautiously to the entrance, spitting out a glob that landed with a loud splat on the dirt. Nearby, a unicorn woman pretending to be a knight and her odd peasant entourage huddled together, assessing the situation as they were. Marco made special note of the horse man and the fox, watching for any sign that he could be heard from this distance. All three sets of large ears remained forward, their attention firmly focused elsewhere. “We are not risking our lives,” he sneered. Keeping his voice down, he tilted his head, shaking stringy blond hair towards Egoraven. “We are here to make sure she does.”