Summer of the Unicorn Read online

  Hunter, silent, comforting, hugged her gently.

  After a moment, Siri stepped back with a faint smile, taking his hand. “Mother’s expecting us.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly. Then, seeking to comfort, he added, “Perhaps the Guardians intend to put everything right one day.”

  “Perhaps. I hope so.”

  They reached the entrance to the sea-cave, finding the colorful dragon awaiting them somewhat balefully. His deceptively mild black eyes were half-lidded and his huge body completely blocked the cave from immediately inside the entrance.

  “We were invited, Bundy,” Siri told him severely. “You know that. Come out.”

  Bundy coughed a brief, hot flame, clearly indicating disgust, and began maneuvering his vast bulk toward the entrance.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Hunter asked warily, drawing Siri to one side of the dragon-blocked opening.

  “He’s disgruntled,” Siri explained dryly. “Cave-dragons, unlike some of their brethren, strongly dislike sunlight. Bundy has to wait for us out here, and he isn’t happy about it.”

  At last Bundy worked his awkward body from the cave. He was twice as large in the sunlight, his scales reflecting brilliantly and his bulk no longer squeezed into a cave at least one size too small.

  After contemplating him for a moment, Hunter said, “Shall we go and visit your mother?” He took Siri’s hand, trying not to wonder if he had really seen one of Bundy’s mild eyes closing in a lazy wink.

  They entered the cave. It tunneled through The Reaper’s black stone base, narrowing as they walked until it was barely large enough for them to continue side by side. The walls were smooth, as if worn by time or a gentle giant’s hand. The floor was dry and just rough enough to give purchase to their boots. And it grew lighter as they walked, the very walls seeming to glow like those in the Unicorns’ cave. Then they rounded a curve and stepped out of the tunnel, entering the chamber holding the sea.

  It was vast. Tremendous. Incredibly huge. The walls glowed; the ceiling, impossibly high above, glowed. And within the day-bright glow was cradled a clear blue sparkling sea that could have held a small fleet of ships. A sandy beach curved all around the water, ending only where another tunnel could be seen.

  The underground “river,” Hunter realized. He noticed no movement other than that of the gentle waves at first, then saw something else. And he understood why a man—any man—could throw himself mindlessly into the sea to his death.

  “Hello, Hunter.”

  Her voice was the origin of music. And she was stunningly, heartbreakingly beautiful. Silver hair fell in a soft curtain, framing her delicate, ageless face. Black eyes held the depth of oceans, the gentle wisdom and sadness of ages and curses. Her smile was serenity hard-won. And smooth golden flesh merged softly and gradually into light blue, satiny scales just below her waist, curving over the rock she sat upon to form a wide and graceful tail caressed by lapping waves.

  “Hello, Shauna,” he murmured. He understood now. The madness. But it did not, as she had promised, touch him. He saw and appreciated her beauty, but his heart was Siri’s.

  She gestured slightly, with that almost eerie, unconscious grace she had passed on to her daughter. “Come and sit down,” she invited, smiling.

  They did. Sitting, the two bipedal beings gazed in gentleness and understanding at the beautiful creature cursed to be loved to the point of madness by men.

  “All peoples bear curses, Hunter,” she said gently.

  “What’s mankind’s curse?” he asked.

  “Striving,” she answered instantly. “Striving always in conflict. Never able to rest on the laurels of achievement.”

  He realized she was right. Mankind, of all creatures, was never content with what he had built, with what he knew. Always, there was a need for more.

  “Dragons?”

  “Their unreality,” Shauna said with a smile.

  “They live,” he ventured, troubled by that.

  “As myth.”

  “They exist.”

  “To those who see.”

  Hunter fumbled for understanding. “See with the heart?”

  “See with the soul.”

  “But they guard. They frighten soulless men.”

  Shauna smiled again. “Fear stirs in a blind soul; understanding stirs in a sighted one.”

  Hunter allowed that to sink into his mind in silence. Dragons. Guards. Created out of fear. Nightmares. Out of the blankness of an unknown horizon. What had Siri said? That man had created myths out of ignorance, and destroyed them in…knowledge. Hunter concentrated on grasping the elusive answer, reaching out firmly. Unicorns were dreams of beauty, born in grace. Lovely dreams. They existed despite knowledge, because they were…magic. Not threatening. Not frightening. No challenge to science when Nature was filled with absurdities such as camels and giraffes. Merely magical, pleasant dreams. And they were guarded by the daughter of myth and—man.

  There was something…

  He looked fixedly at Siri, dimly aware of the presence of both mother and daughter in his mind, waiting quietly for him to find his way.

  The daughter of myth and man. Shaped by her heritage to understand…both. The daughter of man, keeping his dreams alive. The daughter of myth, understanding the tremulous fragility of dreams. Keeper. Gatekeeper. Gatekeeper. Standing in a doorway, with a foot planted in two realities, two worlds. She alone held off extinction of myth. She alone preserved man’s dreams from his careless abandonment.

  He vaguely heard a deep sigh from his love, but his mind was still busy twisting and turning, in pursuit of the last enigma.

  Dragons. In abandoning myth in favor of science, man had released first the dragons conjured from nightmare, fear. The dragon threatened what was known to be true, to be real. No living creature could breathe fire. Ergo, dragons did not exist. Could not exist in man’s world—or in his dreams.

  They could only exist in myth. They guarded myths. They were real only to myths. And, Hunter realized, to him. Because he had sought and found a mythical valley filled with impossibilities. Because his love for the daughter of myth and man had opened an ancient, sighted part of his soul.

  He looked at Shauna, who nodded gravely.

  “Now I understand,” he said. “The answer was before me all the time, and I didn’t see it.”

  “You couldn’t see it,” Shauna said gently. “Not then. Now you’ve learned to see.”

  Hunter’s hand tightened around Siri’s, and he looked at her with wondering eyes. “You told me yourself—but I didn’t listen. You said you were the only thing standing between the Unicorns and extinction—and you meant that literally. Myth, created by man, must be preserved by some part of man. But that part of man must also be of myth, to understand myth. The daughter of man protects his dreams for him.”

  Quietly, Siri said, “And you are descended from a Guardian, with their understanding buried inside you.”

  Smiling, Shauna said, “Together, you have forged a new beginning….For yourselves and for all creatures born of myth. You share the final guardianship of the Unicorns.”

  “Final…” Siri stared at her mother. “No more Keepers?”

  “No, child. You’re the last of your kind.”

  “But—the Unicorns!” It was Hunter who protested aloud.

  Shauna’s laugh was happy music. “The Unicorns stand at the threshold of their future. It is time for myth to be reborn in the hearts of mankind. It will take time, but even now the changes begin. Events set in motion long, long ago near their culmination. Hunter was more right than he knew. The Guardians will set all aright…in time. We Merpeople are released from our promise to bear Keepers, for they are no longer needed. And your children, with their combined heritage, will pay the debts of many myths. As it was written long ago.”

  Hunter was troubled. “That…dangerous quest my own ancestor agreed to?”

  Shauna understood. “That is a part of the new begin
ning. Your firstborn will leave on a quest—just as you came here on a quest. It was foretold.” Her voice was gentle, soothing. “But that is years in the future, Hunter.”

  “Mother…” Siri spoke hesitantly. “Why will there be no more Keepers after me? Keepers must watch the doorway between myth and man—”

  “Not if man reclaims his myths. The doorway—the gate—was formed to prevent man’s myths from slipping completely away from him. But soon man’s myths must rejoin him, and that gate will close behind them. Men are troubled, Daughter, just as Hunter was troubled. Their worlds are rife with revolution and rebellion. They once sought myth in fear and ignorance; now they seek dream because they need something to temper the harshness of reality. They ache to know again the eternal youth and freedom of dreams. They have nearly come full circle to the unconscious wisdom of their own needs.”

  “I’m glad,” Siri said finally, simply.

  “So am I,” Hunter said, indeed glad that man would learn to cherish his dreams.

  So are we all.

  They turned, startled, to see Storm standing quietly behind them on the sandy beach. His noble form seemed illuminated by the glow of the cavern, and his wise eyes were serene.

  “Bundy let you pass?” Hunter asked.

  Of course. I stand too near reality to be threatened by his unreality. Perhaps mankind will reclaim his nightmares as well as his dreams; only then will dragons challenge us in battle. But I think their day is past. They will never be as real as they were at one time.

  Hunter felt a pang, thinking of his first meeting with Bundy. It was sad, he thought, that other men would not know that wonder and astonishment.

  They will always be real to you, Green-eyes.

  Shauna laughed softly. “Indeed, Leader. For now, however, you and I must see these two children wed.”

  Hunter was mildly surprised, though not at all displeased. “Is there a ceremony? I assumed, since no Keeper had ever wed—”

  Shauna smiled at him. “A ceremony was planned, long ago, for you.” She held out a hand as Storm stepped nearer, accepting into her palm the two golden rings that dropped from the Unicorn’s mouth. “Made from the golden dust of the Unicorns’ horns, given by them joyously.”

  Siri and Hunter gazed, awed, at the rings that had been woven from the dust of dreams.

  Shauna’s voice grew suddenly shy. “And I…ask that you also witness a ceremony involving myself.”

  “And me.” There was a splash, and another form joined Shauna’s on the wide rock.

  He was a man from the waist up. Wide-shouldered, powerful. His hair was as dark as hers was fair, and his face as beautiful in masculine form as hers was in feminine traits. Bronze flesh merged smoothly into dark blue, satiny scales just below his waist. His lean face was neatly bearded, and blue eyes gleamed with humor and wisdom and love.

  “Tork!” Siri looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know you were visiting Mother.”

  “All Summer,” he confirmed cheerfully, the bass rumble of his voice as peculiarly musical as the Mermaid’s. “And much good it did me! She’s been frustratingly occupied with her troublesome offspring!” Laughing blue eyes belied the severe words and tone. “Now, however, she has at last got you settled. And my patience has run out!”

  “You were never patient,” Shauna told him lovingly. She smiled shyly at Hunter and Siri. “My mate-to-be,” she said, confirming the obvious, then anxiously asked Siri, “You don’t mind?”

  “Mind?” Siri laughed delightedly. “I think it’s wonderful!” She leaned forward to hug both Merpeople. “And about time, too!”

  Hunter, offering his own congratulations, saluted Shauna’s cheek gently and exchanged a warm and friendly handshake with Tork, finding nothing at all peculiar in either action.

  When you’re all finished, Storm inserted dryly, we can begin. The guests have arrived.

  And they had. All around the sea, seated on rocks, leaning comfortably on the sandy beach, were a score of Merpeople. They varied widely in coloring and features, and spanned ages from a very old silver-bearded Merman to an infant Mermaid cooing contentedly. They called out greetings to Hunter cheerfully and congratulations to both pairs of lovers, and all spoke to Storm with respect and affection.

  Hunter, fascinated, was deeply moved by the generosity that enabled these cursed creatures to reach beyond their own generations-deep sadness to embrace the joy of the occasion. They were gentle and friendly, their beautiful faces alight with happiness and their sad, deep eyes shining. The Mermen were strong and clearly protective of their mates and children; the Mermaids were somewhat shy and gentle, and all were obviously grateful for the love that kept Hunter safe from their cursed attraction.

  And the ceremonies began, filled with ancient words, promises of love and caring, spoken mentally and aloud, by myths…and the child of myth…and the descendant of a goddess.

  Chapter 13

  Hunter and Siri barely noticed that the guests had gone, or that Storm had left the chamber. When they were finally able to tear their eyes from one another, they found only Shauna and Tork, their hands lovingly entwined, watching them with smiles.

  Siri blinked uncertainly. “They’ve gone?”

  Tork frowned at her reprovingly, his eyes dancing. “I make no allowances for the blindness of love, Daughter! Or for the ignorance of Keepers. It is the inborn tact of bridal guests which makes them speedily depart after the ceremony; they assume the wedded couples wish to be alone. And I, my patience tried sorely once again, wait for you two children to take yourselves off!”

  Shauna, to everyone’s amusement—including her own—was blushing.

  Laughing, Hunter and Siri rose to their human feet.

  “You won’t leave this sea?” Siri asked.

  “No,” Shauna replied, studiously avoiding the warm, merry eyes of her new husband. “Not until Winter comes.”

  “But for now—” Tork said pointedly.

  “We’re going!” Siri laughed at him.

  “Good,” he said promptly, grinning.

  Hunter and Siri left the sea-chamber hand in hand and made their way back to the entrance. They emerged into the sunlight and watched Bundy turn his bulk and squeeze it backward into the cave with a last wink.

  They began walking through the woods toward the Crystal Pool.

  “Wife,” Hunter said, satisfied, content.

  “Husband.” Siri smiled up at him.

  He stopped walking suddenly, enfolding her in a fierce, tender embrace. “Wedded by myths,” he murmured huskily.

  There was a glint of hot purple fire in her dancing eyes. “But very human for all of that,” she said. “With human thoughts, human…desires.”

  “Like us.”

  “Very like us, my love.”

  His eyes glinted down at her. “I’ve never made love to a wife,” he noted thoughtfully.

  “Nor I to a husband.”

  With abrupt and lusty abandon, Hunter lifted her and tossed her slight, laughing weight easily over his shoulder, striding purposefully through the forest.

  —

  Summer waned.

  Siri and Hunter spent every moment possible among the Unicorns, knowing their time with the herd was growing short. They often sat outside the cabin, just watching the herd, and on one such occasion, Hunter commented on the Leader and his consort.

  “Those two have certainly matured.”

  Siri nodded. “It’s a shame Fancy is barren. She adores Storm, and would give half her life to bear his foal.”

  “It’s certain she’s barren?”

  “Cloud told me, and he knew.”

  Hunter, like Siri, fiercely resented any marring of their Unicorns’ happiness. “That doesn’t seem fair. She’d make a good mother, too.”

  Thank you, Green-eyes. There was something utterly content in Fancy’s mind-voice, and a curious, muted jubilation.

  The two humans looked at each other, sharing a sudden astonishment. Could it possibly be—
?

  Fancy? they voiced with one mind.

  Delighted, feminine Unicorn laughter. Next Summer, I’ll bear Storm’s foal!

  Siri gasped. But, how?

  How do you think? Storm countered, amused.

  That isn’t what I meant! She was barren. Cloud knew.

  She was barren, Storm agreed calmly.

  Then—? Hunter joined the mental questioning.

  A blessing, the Leader told them, his own delight threaded through the wise mind-voice. Conceived during the second Dance, when all things are possible. Now we await another birth. A golden birth, the final blessing of our future.

  “A golden birth?” Hunter looked at Siri.

  “I don’t know what it means.” Storm? she asked. And was politely ignored. “He’s not going to explain,” she told Hunter dryly.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  —

  It was Hunter who realized one important fact, and he mentioned it to Siri one bright day while they were swimming lazily in the Crystal Pool.

  “Keeper comes from the word Gatekeeper—right?”

  Floating bonelessly on her back, Siri looked over at him as he made his way to the submerged rock he favored for a seat. “Right. Why?”

  “You’re Keeper of the Unicorns.” His eyes were enjoying the sight of her floating in clear water and dappled by sunlight. “But you’re not Keeper of anything else—no other myth, I mean.”

  “True. There are really no other creatures of myth in the valley that require a Keeper.”

  “Then,” Hunter said slowly, “there must be other gates…and other Keepers.”

  “Because there are other myths.”

  “Pegasus. Centaurs. Elves. Shapechangers. And how many others?” He shook his head slightly. “If all of them are waiting for man to reclaim them…”

  “Think of the Gates,” Siri said softly, her eyes glowing. “All those Gates held and guarded by Keepers. All the generations of waiting.”

  “And all of them have to be, like you, the offspring of myth and man. I wonder how many other Keepers are aware that the changes have begun, that soon there’ll be no need of Gates?”