Summer of the Unicorn Page 24

  He was suffering alone in his mind.

  Hunter wasn’t thinking. Instead, he was seeing a dying man’s flashes of life and being in his mind’s eye. His childhood. Young adulthood. The Quest that had taken him through the galaxy. The valley. Siri. The Unicorns.

  He focused eyes that felt hot and painfully dry on Siri’s face, her beautiful, beloved face and the eyes that were so calm and understanding.

  God forgive him.

  “Siri, I’ll keep the faith,” he called to her hoarsely, the words tearing from him and leaving raw, bloody wounds. “I’ll keep my promise.”

  Though it would destroy him.

  And in that moment, moved unbearably by his torment, Siri made her choice. If the gods decreed that she would somehow survive this day, all that she was would be forever his. “I love you,” she whispered, knowing he didn’t hear, wishing desperately that she could shout the words to him….

  Hunter felt hollow, empty, not even the sudden glow in her eyes or the soft smile curving her lips able to help him in that moment. His male instinct told him that he had betrayed her by choosing the lives of the Unicorns over hers, but a deeper and newer instinct insisted that by choosing her he would have betrayed everything she was, everything he loved in her.

  In that moment, he didn’t know which instinct to trust.

  But it didn’t matter.

  There was nothing left in him.

  He had chosen.

  (The beast gnawed at the bars of its cage.)

  “Siri…” he whispered, numb. But his legs were tensing under him, his grip on the spear tightening as he gathered himself in readiness. It was time, his mind told him, deadened, suspended. And—

  (The beast fought free at last and demanded with a berserk scream the release of action.)

  Only that would soothe a savage, mindless grief.

  Another howl split the air, this one from the enraged Huntman as Hunter’s words were absorbed. He looked at the woman he held so cruelly, at the man whose stony face denied any change of mind or heart. And his blind rage defied logic in its need to strike out. His knife lifted high in the air and then began the deadly downward arc that would end in Siri’s breast.

  But the knife was halted in midair, even as Hunter’s instinctive lunge forward had halted, even as the half-hidden Huntmen’s leader barked a sharp order.

  By the sound of Death.

  (The beast howled savage victory.)

  The sound sliced through the still air of the valley. Enraged, triumphant, savage, uncannily beautiful, it echoed off the granite walls of the ridge, writhing among the living as if it were a sentient thing itself. Challenging all who heard to beware the relentless avenging fury of an unstoppable force, an irresistible law of nature. The ancient magic of the sound paralyzed, holding its listeners in a primal terror of the unknown.

  The unreal.

  The impossible.

  Cloud followed his trumpeted cry, thundering across the meadow with the sound of a hundred instead of one. The frozen watchers could sense the vast herd at his back, the ghostly representations of a huge family decimated by the cruelty and greed of man. Myth alive on thundering hooves, the sunlight flashing off golden, lethal horns. Myth coated in pure white. The spirits of ancestors and brothers and children brought to life for just one deadly purpose.

  To avenge the dead.

  The illusion—or delusion—lasted only brief moments, and then they could all see only Cloud bearing down on the ridge in fury. But even that held the Huntmen spellbound for scant seconds longer.

  It was nearly enough time.

  Hunter and Siri had the advantage then, because both were accustomed to the sight of living myths and so were easily able to overcome the sense of unreality and doom. Although they were both elated and fearful to see the stallion, they acted instantly.

  As he ran forward, Hunter’s arm snapped in a long smooth motion to send his single spear flying. The Huntman with the crossbow, who had risen to his feet in astonishment, crumpled silently to the ground.

  Siri, aware of her captor’s slack grip on her and his inattention, used every protesting muscle she could command to fling herself forward, rolling out of his reach. Her bruised body cried out in pain, but she was too worried about Cloud to pay attention to her aching self.

  “Cloud, no!” she cried desperately.

  Her voice snapped the remaining Huntmen from their spells, but before they could react, the furious horned stallion was upon them. Their attention was entirely taken up with remaining alive. They dodged the long golden horn on Cloud’s first pass, the two of them separating to attack the Unicorn from either side, knives raking the pure white coat that was instantly stained with scarlet.

  Time focused. The valley held its breath as myth struggled against man. Myth held the upper hand. Myth bent on vengeance. Myth made terrible in rage. Myth fighting for the future of its race.

  All her consciousness fixed on the battle, Siri nonetheless wondered fleetingly where the other one had gone. There had been four here. Or…No, not four. How had she come to think that? Only three. She shook her aching head a little, bothered, but she could think of little except the scarlet-stained Unicorn fighting for his life.

  From the corner of her eye, Siri saw Hunter racing for the Huntman his spear had killed, and she realized that he was going for the crossbow that might stop the bloody battle occurring just a few feet away from her.

  She knew there wasn’t enough time. There would never be enough time.

  Cloud was bleeding in a dozen places, his breath rasping harshly within seconds, the labored sound an accompaniment to the scuffles of boots and the scrapes of hooves on rock.

  Siri was unaware of the tears coursing down her cheeks, aware only of the pain of Cloud’s mortal wounds. But the stallion was unwilling to die just yet, and when it seemed that he would fall at any moment, he turned in midstride to lunge suddenly and fatally at the enemy. Two lightning strikes, left and right, and their tactic had become their downfall.

  Only when the Huntmen had been tossed aside and kicked viciously into the gorge did Cloud sway, then drop to his knees and fall heavily onto his side.

  Hunter reached Siri almost instantly, dropping the crossbow with a clatter on the rock. His knife in hand, he began cutting the ropes binding her hands and ankles.

  “Can you—?” he began hoarsely.

  She shook her head. “No. No…he’s dying,” she managed to say in a choking voice. “But I have to be with him. I have to touch him.”

  Neither of them was thinking about anything other than Cloud in that moment. There would be time later to feel joy in still being alive and together, time for gratitude when grief had gone.

  Hunter carried her to Cloud’s side. He could feel the pain in her, the physical pain of her injuries and the agony of returning circulation in her swollen hands and feet, the mental pain of the severing of her bond with Cloud. And his own mind was dazed with grief and pain, with the loss of a noble creature he’d only begun to know.

  “Cloud…” She forced a swollen, deadened hand to lift and rest on the stained neck as she stared down into dimming black eyes. She took what pain she could into her own aching body, easing his last moments, grief hurting her far more than anything else. Then she let her hand fall into her lap, seeing through her tears the stained coat whiten brilliantly for a heartbeat before fading, wavering, turning to dust.

  Only the long golden spiraled horn remained.

  Prices.

  Cloud had paid the price for more time for them.

  —

  Boran had lost control, and his awareness of that was a crawling chill of fear in his mind. Oh, he had been able to control Siri’s mind up to a point, had been able to blank her memories of him, even after the bitch had emasculated him. He had even managed to alter Hunter’s memories so that he would not remember the presence of a seventh enemy. But when Siri had stolen his manhood, the shock had weakened his abilities. One of the bastard Huntmen had nea
rly ended her life in a single thrust, and that had been no part of Boran’s wishes.

  Goddamn the woman! What witch’s powers lay hidden in her mind waiting to ensnare him? What else would he lose if he confronted her again? Hurrying cautiously from the bloody battlefield behind him, he felt the lifeless shaft of muscle that had once throbbed with power, the limp sacks of his seed shriveled, and bitter curses tore softly from his throat. Had she, in truth, castrated him forever? Was he cursed by her to never again know the pleasure of thrusting himself into the slick heat of a female body?

  He had to know. For the moment, he put aside his drive to acquire the Triad and destroy the Keeper and his rival. He would leave the valley, return to the city long enough to find some whore to bed.

  And if Siri had indeed ruined him—

  You love your creation. He brushed that memory aside, impatient. Love was an emotion reserved for children and fools; it weakened the mind. He was not weak. But his failures enraged him. He had failed to seduce the Keeper, had failed even to rape her.

  But he would not fail again. He would attain the Triad. He would destroy Hunter. And if Siri had indeed emasculated him, she would be a very long time in dying.

  —

  It was Hunter who picked up the horn and gently laid it in her arms before putting his own arms around her and holding her close. He didn’t even think of the incredible sight of a dying creature vanishing into dust. It was a part of the valley and the Unicorns and so was right. “I tried,” he whispered into her hair. “But by the time I reached the crossbow it was all over.”

  She heard his pain, the quiet fury of his inability to stop what had happened, and her love for this man helped to ease the burden of grief. “You couldn’t have stopped it,” she murmured. She shifted slightly and winced as the pain of cuts and bruises stabbed her.

  Immediately Hunter rose with her in his arms. “We have to get you back to the cabin,” he said worriedly. He could see her weariness in the pallor of her face beneath the bruises and feel, even in the gentle care of his embrace, the shrinking of abused flesh. “Siri, did those bastards—did they—”

  “I’m all right,” she said softly, understanding. She looked down at the horn she held and fiercely blinked back tears. “But you’re wounded.” She reached out a hand to touch the jagged slash on his upper arm but didn’t complete the action as he spoke.

  “No, don’t try to heal that.” He hadn’t even realized that the Huntman in the woods had managed to cut him. “It’ll heal. And you’re too drained.”

  Tiredly she rested her head on his shoulder. “We’ll put Cloud’s horn in the cabin and then go to the Crystal Pool.”

  “Why there?”

  “The waters have healing properties.”

  They were both speaking in normal tones, the horror they had gone through numbing them, cushioning the bitter grief.

  He nodded slightly, carrying her across the meadow with a steady stride. Just before they reached the cabin, he saw her gaze toward the wide end of the valley, but she made no sound to summon the herd.

  “Do they know?” he asked, aware that her thoughts were for the remainder of the herd.

  “They know Cloud’s gone. I think they’ll remain in the cave for a while; it’s their custom to grieve in private for the death of a Leader.” She looked up at him as they entered the shadowed interior of the cabin, seeing very clearly despite dimness that today had taken an enormous toll on Hunter. He looked abruptly older, his face gaunt with strain and the release of strain, pulled tight with grief. Her heart ached for him, and she searched, in a sudden and unfamiliar shyness, to find the words to tell him how she felt about him.

  But the words wouldn’t come, not then. When he set her on her feet, she went to lay Cloud’s horn high on a shelf, leaving it there after a final, lingering touch. She turned back to Hunter and nodded, and they moved wordlessly from the cabin.

  Once at the pool, they began to undress, and she realized that neither of them was looking at the other. Hunter was troubled by something, she knew. And she was wrung out emotionally, feeling grief and anger at Cloud’s death, weariness and pain. And a terrible, yearning love for Hunter. She was too tired to think, vaguely conscious of a small blank place in her mind and a half-conscious need to remember…something.

  She slipped into the cool water, feeling the physical pain ease immediately, the weariness fade away. With no desire to swim, she found a flat rock deeply submerged and rested there, allowing the water to lap about her shoulders and neck, splashing some absently on her face to cool the heat of the hours spent unprotected in the sun.

  Hunter moved slowly through the water to join her, still silent, his face closed. After a glance, Siri left him to his thoughts, knowing that he would speak of whatever disturbed him when he could.

  The cool water seemed to drain away aches and pains, replacing them with a sense of physical well-being. Birds began to twitter softly high in the trees, stirring finally after the intrusion that had kept them silent for so long. The clearing darkened slightly as afternoon wore on and evening neared. The Moonflowers began to open, tentatively, almost as if embarrassed by their colorful glory.

  Siri left his side once to dive in the deep end of the pool, returning with two rootlike plants. She showed him silently how to peel the wet bark to get at the crunchy, tasty interior, and they ate in continued silence.

  Hours passed in peace. The sun set. Since she had never learned to share her pain with another, Siri dealt with the wrenching grief of Cloud’s death in her own quiet way. And because the harsh life of Summer had taught her much about death, she accepted his sadly and silently said good-bye to her lifelong friend. The memory of him was tucked away in her mind, protected and treasured, never to be hurt again. And though a part of her would always grieve for the loss of so noble a creature, she accepted what was.

  With that accepted, she found herself aware once more of Hunter’s nearness, and the effect his presence had over all her senses. And she had made her choice.

  Forbidden! Outcast!

  It was a faint, distant voice, a warning she could no longer heed. The Unicorns or Hunter. Loneliness or love. Life or death. Keeper or woman.

  She had chosen.

  In giving Hunter her love, she would lose the trust of the Unicorns, and she ached already for that loss. But she would do everything in her power to save the Unicorns, no matter what. She would protect them, somehow, until another Keeper could take over. The Unicorns would make her Outcast, of course, but she would be required to remain until Fall. And, since this had never happened before, she might be required to remain long enough to train another Keeper.

  She and Hunter might have years together before she was forced to leave the valley…and die.

  She wondered then if she would be able to bear his leaving her now or ever to complete his own journey. There was a part of her that wanted to cry out against that, painfully conscious of how little time they would have. But another part of her recognized and understood that it was vitally important that he return his people’s knowledge and history to them.

  So little time they had.

  She glanced at him, suddenly disturbed by his silence and closed face. Did he still want her? Or had the choice forced from him taught him the price of loving a Keeper? What could she tell him? I won’t be Keeper for long, my love. Just a woman. Just a woman who loves you.

  “You’re troubled,” she said suddenly.

  After a moment, Hunter nodded.

  “Can you tell me?”

  “I don’t know how.” He hesitated, then blurted gracelessly, “I feel I betrayed you!”

  She understood. “By choosing the Unicorns? No, Hunter! Choosing me would have betrayed me.”

  “That’s what I told myself. But—”

  “Man’s dreams must live, no matter what,” she said softly. “I only hope…”

  He looked at her. “What?”

  She couldn’t speak of it, still. After she had broken her b
onds, she could, but not before. How cruel of the Guardians! Siri drew a deep breath, but her voice emerged again softly. “If—if I had died today…I would have died loving you.”

  Hunter went still, gazing at her with his very breath suspended. The filtered moonlight showed him that her face was a little shy, a bit hesitant—but glowing. And her black eyes were bottomless, glimmering. He lifted a hand slowly to touch her cheek, his thumb brushing quivering lips, and the events of the day faded in a sudden, dizzying rush of love and desire.

  “Siri?”

  She turned her lips into his palm briefly, aware of hot tears in her eyes, a sweet ache in her heart and body. “I was never meant to love,” she whispered. “But I love you, Hunter.”

  He rose to his feet, his hands finding hers and pulling her up gently. He didn’t think he was breathing and his heart hammered in his chest. The sight of her with the water lapping about her waist, her naked breasts gleaming wetly, went to his head like an aphrodisiac from the gods.

  But he forced words past the lump in his throat, because he was, even now, afraid there was something elusive standing between them. “You said…you wouldn’t be my lover. You said you couldn’t change what you were.” His lips twisted wryly. “Those words are branded in my mind.”

  She slipped her arms up around his neck, her breath catching when she felt the hard strength of his chest against her breasts. “You changed what I was,” she murmured huskily. “I want to belong to you.”

  Hunter hesitated for a brief moment, then groaned softly as he lifted her wet body into his arms. “I love you, Siri,” he told her deeply, carrying her from the pool.

  And she felt that she floated as he carried her through the night into the cabin.

  —

  Siri didn’t think of loss, or of surrender. She didn’t think of the price she would pay for this night. She thought only of love and longing, of the wild awakening of her body, of all her senses…of her soul. Just as Hunter and the Unicorns had softly, gently changed places in her heart, so did she become woman first, and Keeper second.

  Nothing in her life had prepared her for the love of a man.