Part 15 (2/2)
Her eyes watered. A sneeze threatened. But through the blur of tears she a.s.sessed the situation. Both men felled and groaning, yet on their knees and recovering.
A thwap of her staff to the men's skulls-swing, connect, spin and connect-knocked them out.
The midnight chargers huffed out foamy breaths behind her. One falchion had landed the ground, point first. Glinting steel quivered.
Elation from the fight made her jittery and loose. A swing of her staff and a decisive stub of it into the ground placed a mark of triumph before the Armagnacs. Who be willing to stand with a fix to challenge her? Standing over her carnage, Gossamyr swiped a hand across her brow. A nod and a satisfied smile. ”Most splendid.”
Hand-to-hand combat delivered double the thrill of a well-met tournament. This danger was everything she had hoped it to be. ”Blight, I'm good.”
Over her shoulder she sensed the fetch's twinclian.
Do not worry, s.h.i.+nn, she thought. I fare well away from your side.
She c.o.c.ked a look over her shoulder. Ulrich bristled with pride. ”I took out one before he could jump-”
”Very well. So you did.”
Retrieving the falchions-careful to grip only the leather-wrapped hilt- Gossamyr handed them to Ulrich. He took them, awkwardly and unsure what to do with the vicious blades that were the size of his thigh.
”Now.” She strode past Ulrich to Fancy and slapped a hand onto the saddlebag. ”To what they were after.”
”No!” Blades clattered as Ulrich dropped them. One of the falchion tips landed his shoe. He fell to his haunches, clutching his foot. ”That is my private cache!”
Gossamyr ignored his protest. She did see no blood, so the blade must have missed toes. Instead, she upended the saddlebag upon the thick summer-sweet gra.s.s and out spilled a twist of black linen, which splayed open to reveal its long and glittering treasure.
”b.l.o.o.d.y elves.” She fell to her knees, not daring to touch the item. ”What have you done?”
NINE.
Gossamyr gripped Ulrich by the hair and forced him, scrambling on his knees, over to the spilled contents of the saddlebag.
”What evil have you done?”
”My lady, have mercy, I am not evil!”
”Why then, do you carry an alicorn in your saddlebag? What madness possesses you?”
”Release me, foul faery!” Pus.h.i.+ng from her grasp, the man made to cover the contraband horn with the thin black cloth.
Shoving him aside, she plunged to the gra.s.s on her knees before the sacred article. The alicorn sparkled with Enchantment. Carved with interlinking symbols of purity, innocence and wisdom, the twisted bone verily hummed a canorous song that Gossamyr felt in her bones. She recognized the curved, intertwined symbols from her school studies. 'Twas an unpardonable crime to remove such from a unicorn-far more wicked than murder; more devastating than to dabble in magic. All of Faery wept when such occurred, for the severing of any source of Enchantment crippled Faery profoundly.
”It is mine.” Ulrich smoothed the cloth over the sacred object and clutched it to his chest. ”I purchased it from a hawker a week ago.”
”A hawker?” Gossamyr huffed. Unbelievable!
”An old man with a cart hobbled roadside betwixt Sees and Tourouvre.”
So much she wanted to say, to tirade, to condemn and accuse- and yet what could she say? Did the man know the significance of what he possessed?
”I do not believe you,” she said firmly. ”Some roadside hawker sold you this? Unknowning?”
”Indeed! Displayed amidst his wares of various distinction; wood sabots, candles, obsidian blades, wicker baskets; it sat amongst a basket of sh.e.l.ls and stones. Pretties, he called them.”
”He knew naught what he was selling. He could not!”
”Oh, he knew. The man did look to have survived a journey through Hades. He wanted to be rid of it something desperate. And I now know why.”
”Why?”
”This pointy thing is evil!”
”It is a sacred object, how dare you-”
”Sacred? This bedeviled horn-” he shook the wrapped horn before her, causing Gossamyr to veer back ”-attracts evil like flies to the plague, my lady. You mark my words. Everywhere I step, evil senses this thing and evil wants it.” He gestured to the men sprawled on the ground behind them. ”Do you not find it at all unusual that we've been so oft attacked?”
”I did. But we stand adjacent to the Netherdred; it is to be expected with the rift-”
”We stand on French soil, my lady. Paris looms to the north and the soil beneath our hands is not sprinkled with faery dust. France! Nothing but!”
”If you have Danced then you should not be so quick to discount those who travel here from Faery.”
”Oh, I do not discount them, I merely wish they were not so determined and so well armed.”
Gossamyr paid him no mind, for something she had said bothered her. The rift? It made trips to and from Faery much easier. The rift let out things that did not belong-such as bogies? And let in the revenants and dancing mortals with an ease that should not be.
We know naught what caused the rift, only a great source of Enchantment was decimated.
That source be a unicorn.
An unbidden moan preceded Gossamyr's sorry shake of head. She lifted her head and eyed the wrapped horn Ulrich clutched so covetously. Surely the Enchantment had bespelled him. But, could it truly be, the very cause for the rift, held in a mere mortal's hands?
”What are your plans for the alicorn?”
Tilting the horn this way then that before his eyes, Ulrich said, ”Not your concern.”
”Not my- Be this the reason for your quest?”
”It may be. Yes. Don't look at me like that. I plan to return it to the beast!”
”The unicorn? Why?”
”Not your concern.”
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