The Secret of the Unicorn Queen book 1 Swept Away by Josepha Sherman

1 Swept Away

	“I still don’t see how you can like that weird old Dr. Reit, Sheila.” Cookie Rogers, who was fourteen, plump, and an aspiring actress, gave a melodramatic shudder, hugging her schoolbooks to her. “He gives me the creeps.”
	Sheila sighed, shifting her backpack to a more comfortable position. Sheila was Cookie’s age, but they weren’t at all alike in anything else. Where Cookie was short and plump, with curly brown hair and big blue eyes, Sheila was tall and slim. But she was in great shape thanks to running and softball. Her face freckled in the sun no matter what she did, and her hazel eyes usually sparkled with warmth and good humor.
	But her eyes weren’t sparkling right now. She liked Cookie, she really did. They had a lot of fun together. But sometimes her friend could be such a pain! “Dr. Reit is not weird. Just because he’s a scientist—“
	“Sure! A mad scientist!”
	“He is not!” Sheila stamped her foot angrily. “Dr. Reit is a famous inventor. He also happens to be my friend.”
	“I thought I was your friend.”
	“You are!”
	“Well? You promised to come home with me after school so we could go over the math homework together, and instead you’re going off to that creepy old house to look at some creepy old books.”
 	“I told you. I need them for my paper. The one on parallel worlds in science fiction and fantasy.”
	“What does that mean?”
	“Parallel worlds? It’s a theory that there might be thousands of different dimensions, with a different Earth in each one. You could have a world where no one ever discovered America, or where magic works, or just about anything!”
	Cookie shrugged. “I don’t know how you can read that stuff. Spaceships and sorcerers and—and things . . . Ugh. I’d rather read a play any day. Or a love story.” She sighed romantically, pretending to swoon, and Sheila grinned.
	“Love stories are okay, but science fiction’s fun and exciting, too. Look, I’ve got to look through those books, but it won’t take me more than an hour or two. We’ll still have time to study. Okay?”
	“Well . . . okay.” Cookie grinned. “Give my regards to Dr. Reit.”
	Sheila looked up at Dr. Reit’s house. She supposed some people really might call it creepy. It was one of those old Victorian mansions—all funny angles and shapes, as if rooms had been added at whim. Every edge and comer was covered with that busy ornamental woodwork called gingerbread. Dr. Reit had inherited the house from his father. He had inherited a lot of money from his father, too, but most of it had gone into the laboratory attached to the house. It was a beautiful laboratory, with strange shining machinery and mysterious gadgetry. Sheila loved it when the scientist let her watch him at work, even if she didn’t always understand what he was trying to do. In fact, there were times when she wasn’t sure if even Dr. Reit knew what he was trying to do!
	Sheila rang the bell. As she waited at the door she wondered about what Cookie had said. Just why did she like the scientist? He was old enough to be her grandfather, and he didn’t know anything about popular music or anything like that. But he treated her like an adult. He let her ask all the questions she wanted and listened to her ideas. He liked to read science fiction, too. And he never made fun of her when she daydreamed about other worlds, worlds where she could be someone exciting, like a heroic adventurer out of one of Dr. Reit’s old fantasy magazines.
	Sheila pressed the bell again and laughed as the theme from Star Wars rang out. That was another thing she liked about the scientist: he had a great sense of humor.
	Dr. Reit’s voice, sounding metallic and faraway, said over the intercom, “Sheila? Is that you? Yes, yes, I see it is, the camera’s working properly. Wait a minute, now. I’ll get the door open. . . . There.”
	With a whir and a click, the door swung open.
	“Did it work?” Dr. Reit’s voice asked urgently. “It’s a new invention, a sort of remote-control door-opener.”
	Sheila giggled. “It worked fine, Hey, hi, Einstein!”
	Dr. Reit’s orange cat had come running to greet her, meowing happily as she bent to scratch him under the chin. Dr, Reit’s voice continued, “I’m in the laboratory, Sheila. Come on back. I want to show you what I’m working on now!”
	“Gee . . . I’m really sorry, but I can’t. I promised Cookie . .
	But Dr. Reit had already shut off the intercom. With a sigh, Sheila started down the hallway to the laboratory, Einstein padding along silently at her side.
	“Einstein! Watch it!”
	The purring cat had started to twine affectionately about her legs as she walked, nearly tripping her.
	“Einstein! Look, cat, I know you like me. I like you, too, but—Oh, all right.” She scooped him up into her arms. “Oof. You’re putting on weight, cat.”
	Einstein only purred.
	“Ah, there you are!” Dr. Reit’s tall, skinny figure appeared in the doorway to the lab, a grease-stained white lab coat not quite reaching far enough to cover all of his lanky height. His mop of white hair stuck up in wild tufts; Sheila knew the scientist had a habit of absently running his hands through it while thinking, even if his hands were covered with grease. “Come on, I’ve got something exciting to show you.”
	He caught Sheila by the hand. Einstein spilled to the ground with a startled yowl, giving Dr. Reit a reproachful look. “Sorry,” he said absently. “There, now, what do you think of that?”
	Sheila entered the laboratory cautiously, looking around. Nothing much seemed to have changed. Tools and bits of unfinished machinery were still lying all over the place. Plans scrawled in Dr. Reit’s wild handwriting and blueprints of mysterious devices covered every flat inch of desk and walls. She also noticed a calendar—a year out of date—showing photos of galaxies, a worn-out poster from The Day the Earth Stood Still, a misplaced bag of kitty litter, and a sketch she had once drawn of Einstein as a kitten.
	“I don’t see anything different…” Sheila began hesitantly, reaching down to pet Einstein, who had forgiven her for dropping him and was weaving about her ankles.
	“No, look over here. What do you think of this?”
	In an alcove stood what looked like the framework for a doorway, a rectangle of shining metal, taller than it was wide, Sheila blinked, “I don’t—“ 
	“Doesn’t look like much, does it? Aha, but watch this!”
	Dr. Reit darted to a console near the “doorway.” As he pressed buttons and moved gears, a low hum filled the air and grew more and more shrill. The vibration of it quivered through Sheila till she winced. “The doorway!” cried Dr. Reit. “Watch the doorway—there!”
	Sheila gasped. What had been empty space a moment before was now a mass of swirling blue, as though the opening had become a window onto a stormy sky. “What is it?”
	Dr. Reit grinned. “That, my dear, is the prototype for my grandest invention” my Molecular Acceleration Trans­port Device. I intended it to be a teleportation device. You know, put a package into one station in New York press a button, and—zip!—it appears in San Francisco the next moment.”
	“That—that’s fantastic! Does it work?”
	“Ah. Well. Not exactly the way I intended. You see Sheila, I may have stumbled across something very fantastic, indeed.” The scientist absently ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Remember that paper on science fiction you were writing for school?  It may no longer be mere fiction.” His voice trembled with excitement. “I think you may be looking at a gateway into another level of time and space.” As Sheila stared at him, he added gleefully, “In short, I have every reason to believe you’re looking at a portal that can take you right into another dimension!”
	Sheila gasped. “I can’t believe . . .”
	“I didn’t, either, at first. Go take a look for yourself.  If the blue clouds are just some sort of bizarre electrical discharge, you should be able to see through them to the wall beyond. But you can’t! Go ahead, take a look. But be careful!”
	Heart pounding, Sheila took a wary step forward.  Could it be true? Could that simple doorway really lead to the magical worlds of which she had dreamed? Chewing nervously on her lower lip, she peered into the mysterious blue swirling, looking for the wall that must be there, just a few inches behind the doorway. But all she saw were swirling clouds that seemed to go on for miles.
	“Be careful!” warned Dr. Reit again. “Don’t get too close. Remember that we don’t know what’s on the other side!”
	Maybe there wasn’t anything on the other side! Sheila shuddered. What if there were only clouds? If you fell through there, you just might go on falling and falling forever....
	She hastily turned away, saying, “Maybe you’d better shut it down until—Einstein!”
	The cat, unnoticed, had twined himself between her feet. Sheila stumbled over him and fell—right toward the doorway!
	“Sheila! No!”
	Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dr. Reit’s panic ­stricken face as he leaped forward. For an instant his hand closed about her wrist. But before he could pull her to safety, an unearthly wind seized her. Sheila screamed as she was dragged away from Dr. Reit—
	Then she was tumbling helplessly down and down into a dizzying world of stormy blue.
 
 



2 Arrival

	Something was tickling her nose. Sheila groaned in sleepy protest. “Einstein? That you?” she muttered. “Cut it out, cat.”
	The tickling continued.
	“Einstein! Stop!”
	Sheila sniffed, then gave a mighty sneeze. Her eyes popped open. Jolted awake, she stared blankly, realizing all at once that she was lying full length on something hard and bumpy, her head cushioned by her arm. It hadn’t been Einstein tickling her nose at all, but what…
	Sheila blinked in bewilderment. This wasn’t the laboratory, was it? She was lying on what seemed to be a shaggy, mangy, dusty green carpet, a twist of which had been rubbing against her nose. Carpet? It didn’t smell like carpet. In fact, the air smelled funny, too, full of a sweet dry, deserty sort of scent. The lab had certainly never smelled like this!
	Sheila closed her eyes again, trying to clear her dazed mind. This is really weird, she thought groggily. Wouldn’t Dr. Reit have moved her to a bed if she had fainted? She had fainted, hadn’t she? It wasn’t easy to remember what had happened. The last thing she could recall was tripping over Einstein and falling. . .
	Yes! Falling for what had seemed forever through all those weird blue clouds!
	“Where—where am I?”
	Sheila sat up sharply, then winced as her head throbbed. After a moment things settled down again, and she glanced warily down, half afraid she would find parts of herself missing. But to her relief, everything seemed to be in place. No missing pieces.  And she was still wearing her shirt, jeans, and sneakers; she even had her backpack.
 	But she wasn’t sitting on a carpet. She was sitting on thin, spiky blades of grass scattered over bare, sandy earth.
	“This is impossible.” Sheila struggled to keep her voice steady. “This is absolutely impossible.”
	Carefully she got to her feet and looked around.
	Nothing. No lab, no house, nothing but mile after mile of rolling, empty grassland reaching to the horizon in all directions under a wide, clear blue sky. There wasn’t a sound, except for the hissing of a dusty wind and the faint, thin cry of what she guessed must be some kind of hawk.
	“I’m dreaming, that’s what it is, I must have hit my head on something, and I’m having a weird dream.”
	But she ached from lying on the rough ground. And she was growing thirsty under the intense sun. Sheila wondered uneasily if you could feel any discomfort in a dream.
	“If this is a dream, it’s an awfully real one. And I don’t know how to wake up and get out of it, either.”
	What if it wasn’t a dream? That could mean only one thing: the doorway, the Molecular Acceleration something-or-other, had really worked. It had thrown her right out of her own world and into . . . wherever.
 	Sheila swallowed dryly. “All—all right,” she said. “If it’s a dream, I’m bound to wake up after a while. And if it’s not a dream, I’ll just wait here till Dr. Reit brings me back again.”
	Could he bring her back? After all, he had hinted that his invention was still in the experimental stage. Maybe when she had fallen through the blue clouds, she had somehow broken the whole machine Maybe she was trapped here! Sheila blinked, fighting back her tears. She wasn’t going to start bawling like a baby! And she wouldn’t let herself be scared! Not yet, anyhow.
	Time passed. The hot sun moved slowly across the sky till it was almost directly overhead. Nothing else happened, nothing at all. At last Sheila sighed and stood up.
 	“If Dr. Reit could have gotten me back, he would have already done it. Whatever this is, dream or reality, I guess I’m not going to get out of it by just standing around.”
 	Which way should she go? She spun around, trying to find something to give her a clue, but the grassland still looked the same on all sides. The sun beat down on her head so strongly that Sheila wished she had a sun hat.
	“Wait a minute! Somewhere in my backpack there should be . .  yes, here it is. I knew I’d put a scarf in here.”
	It wasn’t as good as a hat, but it was better than nothing. Sheila looked around again. Nothing had changed, not even the dusty moan of the wind. She shrugged. Shouldering her pack once more, she randomly picked a direction and started on her way.
	By the time the sun had moved three quarters of the way across the sky, Sheila was too hot and tired and thirsty to care about any more hiking. For all she knew, this empty grassland went on forever, all the way around whatever world she was on.  She had a quick, scary mental image of herself trudging on and on till she collapsed from exhaustion. Maybe she would die here, and her bones would lie bleaching on this plain forever. . .
	“No, wait! I think I see something on the horizon!”
 	If only there was a tree she could climb to get a better view! But there wasn’t so much as a bush, so Sheila tried jumping up as high as she could. “There—it’s smoke—I’m sure of it.” Panting, she stopped jumping to catch her breath. “Maybe the smoke is coming from a campfire! That means there are people on this world after all! I’m not alone!”
	She started to run. But suddenly a shadow passed swiftly overhead, and Sheila staggered to a stop, staring up. What was that?
	It looked something like the golden eagle she had seen on a trip out West. No eagle she had ever seen was that huge! It was as big as a man, and its wings looked as wide as those of a small airplane. Bright, fierce eyes studied her for a moment, and Sheila wondered nervously what she was going to do if the eagle decided it wanted her for its next meal. But then, with a sharp cry that sounded almost like a mocking laugh, the eagle flew away, spiraling up to rejoin a whole flock of its kind.
	“But eagles don’t fly in flocks!” Then Sheila caught herself. “Well, maybe they do in this world.”
	The eagles were swiftly soaring off in the direction of the campfire. Shading her eyes with her hand, Sheila stared after them, then started forward again. She hadn’t gone far when a sudden cloud of dust erupted on the horizon.
	Sheila’s eyes widened in alarm. “That’s not a cloud! Those are horsemen—and they’re galloping right toward me!”
	For a hopeful moment she thought they were coming to rescue her. But those shrill, savage yells didn’t sound like the yells of friendly rescuers! And now she could see that the riders were brandishing swords and spears!
	Frantically Sheila looked for a place to hide. But there wasn’t any! And she certainly wasn’t going to be able to outrun galloping horses!
                As the riders bore down on her, Sheila froze, staring   in wonder. Those five fierce riders weren’t men, but women—warrior-women dressed in a rainbow of bright silks and leather and pieces of armor glinting brightly in the sunlight, like something out of a fantasy story. And those weren’t horses they were riding—
	They were unicorns!

3) Captured

 	Before Sheila could catch her breath, the warrior-women on their swift unicorns had surrounded her in a blur of color and noise. Choking on the dust the prancing hoofs raised, Sheila spun around and around, seeing fierce faces glaring at her on every side, trying to ward off the warriors’ weapons, terrified that she was going to trip and be trampled.
	A hand grabbed her arm, clamping down with painful force.
	“Hey! Let go!”
Sheila, struggling wildly, glared up at her captor, a woman with wild red hair, a broad-featured face, and a solid body that reminded her of the gym teacher she had had in sixth grade. I never did like that teacher! thought Sheila. She punched at the hand holding her as hard as she could. The woman grunted, but didn’t release her. As the other warriors laughed sharply, Sheila was pulled off her feet and thrown across the saddle of the red-haired warrior’s palomino unicorn. One warrior, a beautiful young black woman whose armor glinted with gold, called out something in a melodious language. The others shouted in agreement. With that, the unicorns eagerly leaped forward.
	For a time Sheila was just too dazed to move. But the saddle’s pommel was digging painfully into her middle, cutting off her wind.
	And the sight of the ground whizzing by under her helplessly dangling head wasn’t helping her stomach at all. Sheila squirmed around till she could slap her captor’s leg.
	“Let me up!”
	No answer.
	“Hey, come on, please, just let me sit up!”
	The woman muttered something that was plainly “no,” her voice as rough as the rest of her.
	Sheila took another look at the dizzying blur of ground and groaned.
	“You’d better let me up, or—or I’m going to be sick all over your leg!”
	Her captor glanced down at her. Even if the woman didn’t understand her words, one look at Sheila’s green face got the message across. To her relief, she was dragged up to sit sideways on the saddle, her captor’s arm like a bar of iron holding her in place. Sheila glanced warily around. The first thing she noticed was that the palomino unicorn wore no bridle. In fact, none of the unicorns wore more than simple saddles. And the saddles don’t even have stirrups! thought Sheila. The women didn’t seem to miss them, sitting their mounts with practiced ease. In addition to her gruff captor and the black woman, Sheila noticed a brown-haired archer, quiver slung over her back, and a slender, dark-haired girl of about her own age who kept giving Sheila hostile stares.
	“Don’t blame me!” Sheila said to her. “This isn’t my ideal”
	Her captor gave her a shake and a frown that clearly meant, “Keep quiet.”
	The unicorns streamed down a gulch and into a flat little valley. Sheila saw a few earth-colored, patched tents before her captor gave her a shove that sent her tumbling off the palomino to the ground.
	“Hey! What’s the idea?”
	But the red-haired woman wasn’t paying any attention to her. “Pelu!”  she called, “Ho, Pelu!”
	A slender young woman appeared out of one of the tents. Unlike the warriors, she wore no armor, only a simple white tunic and worn leather sandals, and her ash-blond hair was coiled up in braids on top of her head. As the others spoke to her, she studied Sheila with quiet blue eyes, then approached the girl. She said something in that melodious language, and Sheila sighed and shook her head.
	“Sorry. I don’t understand.”
	Pelu nodded thoughtfully. Reaching into a pouch at her belt, she took out a gleaming blue gem. Before Sheila could move, the woman touched the gem to the girl’s head, lips, and heart.
	“Can you understand me now?”
	“I—hey! Yes, I can! What did you do?”
	“The touch of the Gem of Speaking gave you our language.
	Sheila stared, thinking wildly, Boy, I’d love to have something like that in school! “But—but how does it work?”
	Pelu looked at her as though she had asked something stupid. “Magic, of course.”
	“Oh, of course,” echoed Sheila weakly. “How foolish of me not to have known.”
	But she was speaking to the air. PeIu had rejoined the others, who were arguing fiercely. Sheila heard her captor, who apparently was named Myno, insisting, “She is my prisoner.”
	“Ridiculous!” cut in the black woman, Nanine, with a haughty toss of her head. “We all found her.”
	“Who found her isn’t important,” said Pelu quietly. “I vote we simply hold her till Illyria returns.”
	“Don’t I have any say in the matter?” began Sheila, but she was drowned out by Myno’s shout: “No! She’s my prisoner.”
	The dark-haired girl, Dian, gave Sheila a withering glance. “Why would you want someone like her?”
	“Because ...” Myno’s voice dropped to a mutter. “Because after all my years of slavery, I want a servant of my own.”
	“Hey, I’m not going to be anyone’s servant!” said Sheila indignantly. “Look, who are you? What makes you think you can just kidnap me?”
	The women ignored her,
	“I think we’re making a mistake.” The archer, Kara, plucked at her bowstring suggestively. “Think about it: a girl, all alone in the middle of nowhere, just happens to be walking right toward our camp. Sounds strange, doesn’t it?”
	“She’s no warrior,” Dian said in contempt.
	“Maybe not. But who knows what weapons she’s hiding in that pack of hers? I say she’s some sort of spy.”
	“I’m no spy!” Sheila shouted. “Listen to me, will you? I don’t even know where I am!”
	The warrior-women huddled, murmuring. Sheila overheard uncomfortable words like “Death to spies” and thought nervously, I don’t think I’d better hang around here any longer. No one was paying any attention to her, so she began to edge carefully away. She turned to run—and found herself facing a living wall of unicorns, all of them with their heads down and their long, spiraling horns pointed right at her.
 	“All right,” said Sheila softly. “I-uh-get the point.”
	She backed carefully away, turned—and found herself facing a line of cold-eyed warrior-women. “Look,” Sheila began, “I don’t want any trouble, I only—“
	With a roar, they rushed her. Frantically Sheila rummaged in her pack, trying to find a weapon, any weapon.
	Her hand closed around something circular—soda! A can of orange soda! Wish I’d remembered I had this when I was out on the plain! thought Sheila wryly. Now the soda was much too warm to drink—Too warm! Of course!
	Hastily she shook the can with all her might, pointed the opening at her attackers, and pulled the tab. A geyser of hot, sticky orange soda shot out, fizzing madly, and the startled women shrieked and jumped back.
	“Sorcery! She’s a sorceress!”
	Is that good or bad? wondered Sheila.
	It was bad.
	“Hurry,” shouted Nanine, “Kill the witch before she works more evil magic!”
	“No!” yelled Sheila. “I’m not a witch, honest!”
	But they weren’t listening to her. Myno raised her sword. Kara fit an arrow to her bow—
	“Stop!”
 	The command rang out like a bugle call. Heads turned sharply. Weapons were lowered. Sheila, heart racing, whirled to find herself staring up at a magnificent unicorn stallion, shining white as moonlight. On his back sat the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen, tall and proud in the saddle. The woman, evidently the warriors’ leader, the missing Illyria they had mentioned, was clad in what had once been an elegant tunic of fiery red silk, now travel-stained and mended in several places, over which she wore armor consisting of a leather breastplate and a sort of skirt of leather strips that reminded Sheila of pictures she’d seen of Roman legionnaires. Silver glinted from ornamental inlays in that armor, and from the woman’s elegant armbands. Her legs were protected by bronze greaves, and at her side hung a dangerous-looking sword in a worn sheath and an equally dangerous curved dagger. The woman’s tanned, fierce face was framed by masses of silver­blond hair come partly free from what Sheila guessed must have been yards of braids wound about her head.
	She’s like a heroine out of a fantasy book! thought Sheila, awed.
	Piercing blue eyes held Sheila’s gaze, staring at her until Sheila felt sure Illyria knew all about her.
	The woman turned to glare at her warriors. “What is the meaning of this?”
	Kara said uneasily, “Ah  . . Illyria, the eagles warned us that something was wrong. We rode out, and sure enough, we found the girl out on the plain-and heading right toward our camp!”
 	“Sure I was!” cut in Sheila angrily. “I saw the smoke from your campfire. It was the only sign of life in the whole place!”
	“Be silent, girl.” Illyria’s voice was calm. “You will have your turn to speak. Now, what about you, my comrades? Since when do we make war on girls?”
	“She’s not just a girl!” said Dian. “She’s a sorceress!”
	“Come now, Dian. She’s even younger than you.”
	“It’s true!” the dark-haired girl insisted. “She tried to kill us with a magic potion. It’s probably some deadly poison!”
	“It’s not poison.” Sheila couldn’t help giggling. “It’s only soda. See?”
	She licked the last drops from the can she still held. Everyone stared. When nothing happened to her, they all drew back, murmuring in wonder.
	Oh, great, thought Sheila, They think I just used magic to keep the soda from poisoning me. They still believe I’m a witch, all right, they’re just trying to figure out whether I’m Glinda or the Wicked Witch of the West.
	Kara seemed determined to prove that Sheila was an evil sorceress. “I’ve seen enough magic in my time—remember Mardock and his foul spells?”
	“Yes, of course,” argued Pelu, “But magic can be worked for good, as well as evil. You’ve watched my heal­ing spells and seen the Gem of Speaking.”
 	Dian shook her head. “Those are just small charms, everyday spells. You told me so yourself!”
	“That’s not the point, Dian! If the girl really does have Power, can we afford to lose a magical ally?”
	That sparked a wild debate.
	“You don’t understand! I say get rid of her, now!”
	“First we should learn who sent her and-“
	“No! We mustn’t wait!”
	“That’s ridiculous! We mustn’t-“
	“We must-“
 
	“Enough!” said Illyria at last. “The sorceress comes with me. I will learn the truth from her. Alone.”
	“And I,” muttered Sheila, “will finally get some answers!”
 
 

4) Questions

 	Illyria slid down from the back of her unicorn. He turned his head to nuzzle her affectionately, then trotted off to be unsaddled by one of the warriors. Illyria signaled for Sheila to follow her, then started toward the largest of the few worn, patched tents. Inside the tent were only two camp chairs, the sort that fold up flat, a wobbly table con­sisting of a plank set on two rocks, and a pack that Sheila suspected held Illyria’s spare clothing.
	Illyria raised an eyebrow. “Not luxurious enough for you, sorceress?”
	“I’m not a—“ began Sheila, then stopped short. By now there wasn’t any way she could pretend to herself that this was all only a dream. Oh no, this was all quite real. Like it or not, she was stuck, without a clue as to how to get home, getting firsthand information on an alternative world where magic worked. Maybe, for safety’s sake, she had better play along and pretend to have magical powers of her own. Magical powers for good, not evil, of course.
	Illyria seated herself in one of the chairs, chin resting on steepled hands. Her fierce eyes studied Sheila without blinking. “Sit, girl.”
	“My name isn’t ‘girl’ or ‘sorceress,’ it’s Sheila.”
 	“So. Sheila. Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”
	“Ah.” Sheila thought frantically for an answer. “Not much, really. Just trying to figure out a way to get home again.”
	“Don’t play games with me, girl. The very fact that you didn’t speak our language proves you’re not from around here.”
	“No,” agreed Sheila honestly. “Believe me, I’m from far away. Very far away.”
	“Then how did you get here? Sorcery? Why are you here?” The blue eyes blazed. “Did Dynasian send you?”
	Sheila shrank back from the attack of questions. “Who?” she asked in bewilderment.
	“Come, come, I’m not a fool. Everyone knows the name of the tyrant who usurped the throne of good King Amar!”
	“Everyone but me!”
	Illyria paused, studying her, then frowned slowly. “I could almost swear you were telling the truth.”
	“I am! Look, I didn’t want to come here; I don’t even know where ‘here’ is!”
	“These are the Steppes of Arren, many days of hard riding away from Campora.”
	That didn’t mean much to Sheila, “Oh,” she said blankly.
	Illyria’s frown deepened. “Why, you really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
	Sheila shook her head. “Sorry. The only thing I can tell you is that I was on my way home from school.”
	“Wizards’ school?”
	“Not—not exactly. Anyhow, I stopped off to see Dr. Reit, He’s a scientist friend of mine.”
	“A  . . Scientist.” Illyria pronounced the word carefully, as though it were foreign to her. It was foreign, Sheila realized after a moment; she’d had to say it in English because there wasn’t any such word as scientist in Illyria’s language.
	“Oh. Well, I suppose you probably would call him a wizard. His cat tripped me-“
	“Deliberately? This cat-creature is the wizard’s familiar?”
	“No, no, he’s just a pet! And it was an accident, that’s all! He tripped me, and I fell right through the the . . .” But there weren’t any words like Molecular Acceleration in this language, either. Sheila ended up lamely, “Let’s just call it a spell that wasn’t tested yet. Only in the place I come from, we don’t use magic. We use science instead. You know: airplanes, television . . . no,” she added sadly, seeing Illyria’s bewilderment, “you don’t know, do you? Hey, wait, I’ll show you!”
	Sheila rummaged around in her backpack, trying not to notice that Illyria was keeping a wary hand on the hilt of her sword.
	“Ah, here it is! This is something from the world of science: a cassette player.”
	She pressed the “on” button, and the tent was flooded with the sound of Bon Jovi. Sheila grinned.
	At the first note Illyria sprang up, sword drawn. Eyes wide, she murmured, “Sorcery!”
	“Hey, it’s all right! Don’t be afraid! It can’t hurt you,” Sheila said quickly.
	She turned off the player. “It’s just something kids like me use for fun.”
	Illyria sighed. “I’m willing to believe you’re not a spy, Sheila from the World of Science, where even mere children wield magic.  Your sorcery has nothing of the foul taint of Mardock about it.”
	“That’s the second time someone’s mentioned Mardock. Who is he?”
	The woman raised a surprised eyebrow. “Didn’t you know? I thought surety all magicians would know the name. He’s Dynasian’s pet sorcerer, and his spells are all of the Darkness.”
	“But I still don’t know who Dynasian is!”
	“Later. First, you still must prove to me that your own magic really does no harm, and-“
	The sounds of quarreling outside the tent interrupted her.
	“Now what?” the woman muttered under her breath, and moved to the tent’s entrance. “Stay where you are, Sheila. Pelu!  What’s going on?”
	“Myno and Kara are arguing over the-ah-the sorceress.”
	Illyria let out her breath in an angry hiss. “Come inside and guard our . . . guest. I will be back.”
	The tent flaps swung shut behind her. “Uh . . . Pelu,” Sheila began after an awkward silence. “What is all this?  I mean, who are you people? What are you doing here?  And-and those really are unicorns, aren’t they?”
	Pelu gave her a quick grin. “I know how you feel! When I first met Illyria’s unicorns, I thought I must be dreaming. But yes, they are unicorns, and they are quite real.” She hesitated. “As for what we’re all doing here, I can only speak for myself.” Pelu paused again, toying with memory. “Since I was a little girl, I’ve always loved animals. At first my parents only laughed when I’d want to take care of stray dogs or wounded birds, even though they couldn’t deny that I seemed to have a true healer’s touch. But when I told them I wanted to train to become a professional healer of animals, they stopped laughing and beat me instead.”
	“Why?”
	Pelu shrugged. “In our village women are forbidden to work with animals. That is men’s work. A woman’s place is at home, taking care of her children and obeying her mate.”
 	“But that’s ridiculous! If you’re good with animals what difference does it make if you’re male or female? Where I come from, a woman can do anything she wants! We have plenty of women veterinarians, women who are healers of animals.”
	Pelu sighed. “You must come from a strange land, indeed. Here, the only way for me to follow my dream was to run away. But no one would hire a woman healer. I would have starved had I not met Illyria and joined her band. And when I was befriended by my own dear unicorn-“
A sudden crash outside the tent made Sheila and PeIu both jump. PeIu let out a little cry of pain.
	“What is it?” asked Sheila. “Oh, you’ve cut yourself!”
	“It’s nothing, a scratch. I was careless with my dagger and-“ Pelu stopped abruptly, staring, as Sheila rummaged around in her pack. “What are you doing?”
	“Hunting for . . . ah, here it is!” The girl smiled at Pelu. “Hey, don’t look so scared. This is only a ...” But the language didn’t have a word for Band-Aid, so Sheila finished, “This is a sort of a sticky bandage.”
	Nervously, Pelu let her put it over the little cut.
	“See?” said Sheila. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
	Pelu looked at her bandaged finger in wonder. “You are a sorceress! But . . . this is healing magic. No evil sorceress can work with any of the healing arts. Nor would she stoop to doing a good deed.”
	“Uh . . . no. I guess she wouldn’t.”
	“Then it’s true. Your magic is good, not evil.”
	“Well . . . if I have any magic, it’s good magic,” said Sheila carefully.
	PeIu studied her for a moment. “But you’re still a very young sorceress, aren’t you?” the woman asked gently, “And very far away from home.”
	Sheila swallowed hard. “F-farther than you think,”
	“Poor thing! You really don’t know what’s going on here, do you?”
 
“Very well. While we wait for Illyria to return, I shall tell you a story: the story of the Unicorn Queen. Listen carefully. .

5) The Quest

 
	Pelu was a fine storyteller. As she spun her tale, Sheila found herself listening so intently that pretty soon she forgot everything around her. Instead of a ragged tent, she seemed to see the adventure itself unfold before her eyes.
 	The village was a peaceful place of thatched cottages set in a small green valley high in the mountains. It was a perfect place to raise the swift, sure-footed horses for which the village was known. And the finest horses were bred by a man called Sandrous. Sandrous had two children, Illyria, even then already tall and beautiful as a goddess, and Darian, her younger brother, brown of hair and eye, and daring of heart. Their mother had died when they were very young. But Sandrous taught them many things, from the proper way to handle a frightened colt to the method for taming a horse without breaking its spirit.
	That was a good, happy time. But far beyond the mountain village, the world was changing. In Campora, capital city of the vast kingdom in which the village lay, the wizard-king, Amar a good and kindly man, had been deposed (some said by dark and devious sorcery) and Dynasian, ambitious and cruel, had usurped the throne.
	Sandrous thought that since Campora was so far away, the problems there could not possibly affect him. Still, he decided, better to be prepared. Sandrous had been a warrior when he was younger, and now he taught his daughter and his son weaponry, the ways of sword and spear. Illyria soon became as skillful with the sword as any warrior Sandrous had ever seen.

	“That’s very interesting,” Sheila cut in, “but what about the unicorns?”

	“Hush, little sorceress. I’m getting to them.” Pelu continued:
 	One fine day Illyria and Darian went riding. They were enjoying an ordinary ride through the clear mountain air. Suddenly Illyria’s horse shied, and the young woman found herself looking down at the bloody, beaten body of a handsome young man.
	“Hurry, Darian! We’ve got to get him to shelter!” she cried.
	The young man was badly hurt, but Illyria nursed him back to health. His name was Egael. He told her to beware of Dynasian; it was the tyrant’s men who had beaten him and left him to die.
	As Egael healed, he and Illyria grew close.
	But one night Illyria woke suddenly, sensing that something strange was happening. Alarmed, she ran to the room in which Egael slept. But he was gone! Illyria ran out into the night, frantically shouting Egael’s name, but the only answer to her calls was the wild cry of an eagle. Far in the distance she saw the fading shadow of great wings. And somehow, she didn’t know how or why, Illyria knew that Egael had vanished from her life.
	As she stood in the moonlight, wondering, blinking back tears, Illyria felt a soft muzzle brush her arm. One of the horses has gotten loose, she thought, and turned—to find herself facing a magnificent white stallion. A unicorn stallion. That was Illyria’s first meeting with Quiet Storm. And he is with her still.
	In those days Quiet Storm lived a peaceful life, siring handsome unicorn foals with Sandrous’s mares. The horse foals were sold at market as always; the unicorns—Sandrous being a wise man—were allowed to run free and happy, as unicorns must. And the village flourished. No one fell ill. The harvests were bountiful. And everyone knew this was due to the magic of the unicorns.

	Pelu paused. “Storytelling is thirsty work. Illyria usually keeps a water jug in here ... ah, yes.”
	As the woman drank, Sheila prodded her eagerly, “Go on! What happened next?”
	“What else? Trouble. Listen    
 
	Word of the valley full of fabulous unicorns reached Dynasian’s ears. Or, rather, it reached the ears of his favorite sorcerer, Mardock. A foul and cruel man, Mardock is as dark of heart as he is of beard and hair. An exile, it is said, from some mystical land to the east, Mardock is a fine companion to his tyrant master.
	Mardock looked through his magic window and saw that while the unicorns roamed free, strange things began happening to Dynasian’s legions. Whenever they’d try to collect taxes, the taxes would turn to rocks, or bright blue butterflies. Whenever they would try to arrest an innocent soul, their swords would shatter. People began to laugh at them, and at Dynasian.
	It is never wise to mock an evil man.
	One terrible day Illyria and Darian returned home to find the village destroyed and Sandrous slain. The unicorns were gone.  Dynasian had stolen them all—all except Quiet Storm and Darian’s own mount.
	Dark times followed, full of plague and misery. But then Illyria had a dream; in it a great eagle, large as a man, told her that the land would prosper once more only when the unicorns—those beings of Light and Goodness—were freed. Upon waking, Illyria swore a solemn vow: she would free the unicorns from Dynasian’s snares, or die in the attempt.
	Pelu stopped.
	“And?” insisted Sheila.
	“And she’s been traveling ever since. Campora is very far from here. Some of the captive unicorns have managed to escape Dynasian’s men; those are the ones we ride. As for us . . . well, now, we are a band of seven, counting Illyria and Darian, all of us escaping tyranny of some sort. You already know my story. Red-headed Myno, whom you’ve-ah-met, is a runaway slave.” Pelu winced. “She never talks about her former life, but I’ve seen the scars of whips on her back. You can imagine how she hates Dynasian and all he stands for! She’s the only one of us who’s actually been in Campora. And if ever there was a genius for figuring out a sly, clever plan, it’s she.”
	“What about the black woman? She seems so proud.”
	“Ho, she should! Our Nanine is a princess in her homeland to the south. She ran away from the foppish pig of a prince she was being forced to wed. She claims to like our rough life far better than any silken prison of a harem, even though she complains about having to sleep on the ground ‘like a commoner and eat food that’s ‘barely fit for swine!’
	Sheila giggled. “And what about the archer?”
	Pelu’s smile faded. “Kara’s our archer, and she doesn’t I laugh very much. You see, she has her own mission: Kara is looking for her sister, who was carried off by Dynasian’s soldiers. Poor thing, she may or may not be alive in Campora.
	“What about the black-haired girl? The one who’s about my own age?” Sheila asked.
	“Dian? Oh, she’s our ‘baby.’ She found one of the unicorns lost and hurt, and took care of it. When the unicorn recovered, and rejoined our herd, Dian came along with it. She’s showing signs of becoming a fine warrior. And she’s got a lovely singing voice, too, very comforting at night when we’re all gathered around the campfire and feeling sorry for ourselves.” Pelu smiled. “So. There you have our story.”
	“And a fine story it is, too!” said a sudden voice.

6) Sheila Enlists

 
Sheila and Pelu both sprang to their feet in surprise, Pelu with her dagger ready. At the tent’s entrance stood one of the cutest boys Sheila had ever seen. He was tall and lean, and looked as though he had been working out with weights. But in this crazy world he’s probably been working out with a sword! Sheila thought to herself. Shoulder-length brown hair framed a strong, suntanned face that reminded Sheila of Illyria—“Darian,” said Pelu with a sigh, sheathing her knife.
	“Don’t startle me like that. I might have stabbed you.”
	“Sorry.” He gave her a quick, dazzling smile, then turned to look at Sheila.
	“Darian?” she asked. “Oh, of course. You’re Illyria’s brother.”
	“And you’re the sorceress.” He took a swaggering step into the tent, looking Sheila up and down. “Kind of young to be a sorceress, aren’t you, little girl?”
	Sheila straightened angrily. How could she have thought that this arrogant boy was cute? “Kind of young to be a warrior, aren’t you?”
	Darian flushed. “A child like you should be with your mother. Learning to stay in the kitchen, where you belong.”
	“Why, you-you-“ Sheila sputtered. Oh, why didn’t this language have words like male chauvinist pig in it? “You spoiled little boy!”
	Pelu, chuckling softly, murmured, “Oh, no. I don’t want to get in the middle of this! Excuse me, you two.”
	She slipped out of the tent, but neither Sheila nor Darian saw her leave. “What’s that?” the boy asked sharply. “Your pack of magic tricks?”
	“It’s my pack, yes. What about it?”
	Then it really does have magic stuff in it? Hey, that’s nothing for a girl to carry around! Let me have it before you hurt   yourself”
	“I will not! Leave me alone!”
	Laughing, he reached for the backpack—and Sheila kicked him sharply in the shin. There was a roar of laughter from the   tent’s entrance, and Darian and Sheila whirled to see Illyria standing there, eyes bright with amusement,
	“My, my, what a brave little sorceress you are! Brother, I do think you’ve met your match! And I think you just might have had it coming, too.”
	Darian, rubbing his shin, glared at his sister. But then he gave a rueful grin and muttered, “I guess maybe I did.” As he left the   tent with a limp, he shot Sheila a quick, grudging glance of respect.
	Once the tent flaps had swung shut behind him, Sheila, blushing, turned to Illyria, more than a little awed at the quiet power radiating from the woman. She was a true leader!
	Oh, great! And I just kicked her brother in the shin! “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
	“No need to apologize.” Illyria gave a deep sigh, but her eyes still twinkled. “Poor Darian! It’s not easy for him, being both the only male in our warrior band and the second youngest. He still has a good deal to learn.” The humor vanished from her face.
	Coolly, the woman added,  “As do we all. And one thing I mean to learn right now, my dear, is whether your magic is good or evil. Pelu seems to like you. That’s a point in your favor. But humans can make mistakes. I have a better judge of character, one who is never fooled.”
	“I—I don’t understand.”
	Illyria pulled aside a flap of the tent. “Storm!” she called. “Quiet Storm!”
	The magnificent white unicorn trotted up, his coat and long spiraling horn glinting bright silver in the sunlight. His large, amber eyes studied the girl almost thoughtfully.
	“Storm, come closer. Meet Sheila.”
	The unicorn stuck his head into the tent. Sheila drew back a little at the sight of that long, sharp horn so close to her head, but the unicorn’s eyes were gentle. And he was so beautiful! His head was lovely, as fine-boned and graceful as the head of a deer, reminding her a little of an Arabian stallion she had seen in a movie. His small ears pricked forward in curiosity. He had a small beard of whiskers beneath his chin, and his breath was as sweet as fresh clover as he nuzzled Sheila. After a moment she dared to stroke his cheek. His coat was warm and soft beneath her hand, softer than velvet.
	“So,” said Illyria softly. “Thank you, Storm. You may go now.”
	With a snort that sounded almost like an amused chuckle, the unicorn withdrew his head from the tent, carefully turning sideways so he wouldn’t snare his horn in the fabric, and trotted off again.
	It seemed to Sheila that she had been holding her breath all this time. Now she gave a long, awestruck sigh. “He’s beautiful!”
	“He is, isn’t he?” Illyria smiled. “More important, he’s just told me what I needed to know. No unicorn would tolerate the presence of a worker of evil magic. Welcome to my camp, Sheila of the World of Science.”
	It was said so formally that for a moment Sheila won­dered if she should curtsy or something. “Uh, thank you.”
	The twinkle of amusement was back in Illyria’s eyes. “Come, be honest now. You’re not really a sorceress, are you?”
	Sheila started, How should she answer that one? “Well no,” she began warily, then stopped in panic.
	Oh, boy! What did l say that for? I just ruined the only chance I had to defend myself!
	But Illyria was continuing casually, “I thought not. You’re just too young to have completed the years of study a sorceress needs. Unless, of course, you aren’t truly young. Do you happen to be wearing a Disguise of Youth?”
    Sheila blinked. “You mean, am I really an old woman who’s turned herself into a girl?” Could there really be such a spell? “Ah . . . no. I’m a girl, honest.”
	“So. You must bean apprentice. Perhaps of this wizard you mentioned, this—Dr, Reit, I believe you named him.”
	“Yes, I mean, that’s his name.” Sheila thought quickly. “And I… have helped him with a few experiments,” she said truthfully.
	“You must make a fine apprentice.” The woman’s voice was as matter-of-fact as if she had complimented Sheila on her bike riding. “Already you wield your powers well.” Illyria paused thoughtfully and looked the girl up and down appraisingly. “And you do seem fit enough, if not as fit as a true warrior. Tell me, now, have you ever studied any form of weapon-craft?”
	Sheila bit back a wild giggle at the thought of herself in full armor in gym class. “Well, I cover third base on the school softball team. That can get pretty wild sometimes. And I’ve hit a couple of homers, too.”
	“That is a form of combat unknown to me. Still, Sheila of the World of Science, my warriors and I could use the help of a sorceress of good magic in our quest, even a sorceress-in-training. Particularly one who wields objects of great magical power such as that far-speaking box and the foaming potion.”
	Objects of power! thought Sheila in amazement. My cassette player and that can of soda?
	“Come now, Sheila, look at me. I’m asking you a question. Will you join us?”
	“Oh. I-I don’t know. I’ve got to think about it for a moment.”
	 Illyria nodded in understanding. Sheila turned away, chewing nervously on her lower lip.  Defeating an evil tyrant . . . freeing trapped unicorns to return good fortune to the land… it certainly did sound like a worthy cause. In fact, it sounded like every heroic daydream she had ever had.
	It also sounded awfully dangerous. You couldn’t get hurt in daydreams, but these people weren’t carrying swords just for fun!
	Still… it was a worthy cause, and besides, she really didn’t know what else to do except wait and hope that Dr. Reit would find her and take her home
	“All right. I’ll join you,” said Sheila. “At least until I find a way home.”
	Illyria, pleased, nodded solemnly. “I’m glad to hear that. But I must tell you this, Sheila: it won’t be easy. There will be many challenges, from the land itself, from Dynasian’s forces, from dark sorcery. Many women have wanted to join me along the way. I accept only those who can endure the hardships of a warrior’s training. Do you think you can endure, and triumph?”
	For a moment the sheer strangeness of it all nearly overwhelmed Sheila. Such a wave of homesickness washed over her that she wanted to shout No! I can’t! Just leave me alone! But instead she swallowed fiercely and managed to get out, in an. almost level voice:
	“I guess I won’t know until I try.” Sheila paused. “But I’ve got to warn you, I’ve never been on a horse in my life.”
	“Unicorns aren’t horses,” Illyria replied. “You’ll learn. One way or another. Come, I’ll introduce you—formally, this time—to the others.”

7) Warrior-in-Training

 
	Sheila looked around the camp. It was late afternoon. Everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing—from Myno, skillfully mending a saddle girth, to Kara, who had returned to camp with bow in hand and a brace of rabbits over her shoulder. The unicorns wandered freely, stopping to graze every now and then on sparse grass or thorny bushes; Sheila was fascinated as she watched how delicately the unicorns twisted their lips in the leaves to avoid getting stuck.
	Watching unicorns was fun, but it wasn’t something she could do all day. What was she supposed to be doing? Sheila wondered.                 
	Everyone else seemed to have some task or another. But no one paid any attention to her. She hadn’t even been told where she would sleep, or if she was going to have to stand guard like the others. Though there was still plenty of light, the sun was already slipping behind the horizon, and a chill was rising from the rapidly cooling earth. Sheila shivered and gratefully pulled the cloak Pelu had lent her more tightly about herself Weird! This was all so weird! Had it really been only a few short hours ago she had been talking with Cookie about studying?  Sure. A few short hours ago—in another world in another dimension!
	Sheila shivered again, and this time it wasn’t from the chilly air. How was she ever going to get home?
	“Uh . . . Sheila,” said a hesitant voice.
	It was Darian. Oh, fine, thought Sheila. The last thing she wanted right now was to get into another fight with him!
	“Darian, I-“ she began, just as he started:
	“Sheila, I-“
	They both laughed nervously and stopped.
	“Sheila,” began Darian again, not meeting her gaze, “I . . . What I mean is . . .” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, what I’m trying to say is, I acted like an idiot before. I don’t know why I did it. I’m not usually so obnoxious. Sorry.”
	Sheila eyed him warily. “Did Illyria make you say this?”
	“No!” He glared at her indignantly. “I’m trying to apologize to you! Are you going to let me or not?”
	“Hey, what happened wasn’t my fault! You don’t have to yell at me!”
	To her surprise, Darian only grinned. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we just forget the whole thing and pretend we’re just meeting for the first time now? Okay?”
	“Okay,” she said with a smile. “My name is Sheila. What’s yours?”
	“I’m Darian, Pleased to meet you, Sheila.”
	“Pleased to meet you, too, Darian.”
	They solemnly shook hands, then burst out laughing. “Friends?” the boy asked.
	“Friends,” agreed Sheila. “Ah . . . why are you staring at my wrist?”
	“That bracelet you’re wearing—It’s moving!”
	 Sheila glanced down at herself and laughed. “That’s just my Mickey Mouse watch.”
	She had to say Mickey Mouse watch in English, of course, and Darian gave her a blank stare. “Magic,” he said at last.
	“It’s not magic, it’s just a way to tell time.”
	“Tell it what?”
	“Very funny. This is a device to let you know what time of the day it is.” Assuming, of course, she added to herself, that this world has the same twenty-four-hour day as mine!
	“The sun tells you that.”
	“Suppose it’s a cloudy day?”
	Darian grinned and shrugged. “You’ve got a point. But if that-that ‘watch’ isn’t magic, how does it work?”
	“You wind this little knob, and gears turn, and-“
	“Yes, but how does it work?”
	“Well . . .” It dawned on her that she really didn’t know; a watch was just one of those things you took for granted. She sighed
       “All right. Call it magic.”
	“Fine!” His grin widened. “You’re lucky you found us when you did. When we were stopping for a day, I mean, to give the unicorns a chance to rest. That gives you time to get the feel for riding.”
	“In only a day?”
	“It shouldn’t take longer. They’re easier to sit than horses. You’ll see.”
	Darian’s voice was casual. Of course, realized Sheila. This world didn’t have any automobiles or subways or any­thing like that.
	Everybody here would take horseback rid­ing very much for granted.
	“Now,” said Darian cheerfully, “let’s see about getting you a unicorn.”
	Sheila suddenly felt someone watching her, looked up to see Dian staring at her, dark eyes filled with rage. Great, thought Sheila.  She’s Darian’s girlfriend, and now she thinks I’m trying to steal him! Well, she couldn’t worry about that right now. “How do you go about getting a unicorn?”
	“Well, you don t exactly. You wait until one of them picks you.”
	“What happens if none of them wants me?”
	Darian looked at her in dismay. “But they will. They must.”
	Sheila thought about being left here, in the middle of nowhere, and shuddered. “I hope you’re right.”
	“Here, we’re far enough away from camp now. Sit.” 
	“Wait, where are you going?”
	“I’ll be back, don’t worry. Just sit.”
	“And ...?”
	“And wait.”
	With a wave of his hand, he hurried off, and Sheila was left all alone. Wondering if this was Darian’s idea of a practical joke, she sat. And sat. And sat. It was growing really dark now, and chilly, and she was beginning to re­alize it had been a long time since she had last eaten. She looked at her watch. Just a few minutes more and she was going to give up on the whole thing and-
	Something warm and soft brushed her cheek. Sheila yelped, and something large let out a startled “Whuff!” and jumped aside. Then it moved warily forward again, and the girl held her breath. A unicorn! More than that. This was a lovely young unicorn mare, reaching down to sniff delicately at Sheila’s face.
	“Oh, you beautiful thing!”
	The mare seemed to like that. She pushed gently at Sheila’s shoulder, then suddenly folded her legs and lay down beside Sheila, resting her head in the girl’s lap.
	“Oh. You-you’ve chosen me, haven’t you?” Wonderstruck, she stroked the silken coat, and the unicorn gave a faint, contented sigh. Even in the fading light, Sheila could see that the unicorn was a lovely creamy-white, with a black mane, tail, andnslim, elegant horn. Her big blue eyes were shaded by long white lashes. As the mare got to her feet again, Sheila saw that all four
legs were black, too, from hoofs to knees: markings like that were called stockings, she remembered, on horses anyhow.
	“Hey, great!” Darian’s voice said suddenly. “This is the sister to my own unicorn, Wildwing. Be nice to her, eh?” he toldnthe mare, who whuffled at him.
	“Isn’t she beautiful, Darian? But what’s her name?”
	He laughed. “Who knows what unicorns call each other? You’ll have to name her yourself. Don’t worry, a name will come to you. Now let’s get back to camp or we’ll miss dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”
	All at once Sheila remembered just how hungry she was. “Yes!” she said.
	The unicorn leaned her head on Sheila’s shoulder, almost as though she was saying, “Don’t go,” and Darian grinned. “All right. You tool” he told the mare.
	The unicorn nodded her head vigorously and whinnied at them. Darian and Sheila burst into laughter and laughed all the way back to camp.
	Finding a place to sleep, Sheila learned, was a simple thing on such a clear night. You merely found a level spot, curled up in your cloak, and closed your eyes. She was tired enough to be glad not to have to move any more today. But sleep was another matter. For a long time she lay staring up at the night sky. Without any pollution or streetlights to interfere there seemed to be more stars than she had ever seen: the sky was blazing with light. It was incredibly beautiful. But something about it wasn’t quite right....
	Oh no! Sheila thought. All at once she knew. Dr. Reit had taught her the constellations, but she didn’t recognize any of the star patterns she saw now. The stars blurred as Sheila’s eyes filled with the tears she had held back all day. But she was here, however far away “here” was, and she would just have to make the best of it! She wiped her eyes with the corner of her cloak. Besides, she had that lovely unicorn mare to think about.
	Have to find her a good name, Sheila thought.
	She shut her eyes.
	And this time she slept.
 
	Sheila groaned. Was it morning already? It didn’t seem possible. But birds were singing loudly, and people were moving about all around her, doing things that seemed to make an awful lot of noise and shouting a lot. Sheila groaned again, reluctant to open her eyes, every muscle aching. She’d been camping before, but there was a big difference between sleeping in a nice down sleeping bag and having only a cloak between you and the ground. The hard, cold, bumpy ground—A sudden snort made her open her eyes with a start.
	Something large was standing between her and the brightening sky, and for a moment, heart racing, she thought of fearsome monsters. Then the creature gave a friendly horsy little whicker, and Sheila laughed.
	“Oh, it’s you.”
	The unicorn mare snorted again, and Sheila smiled. Beyond the spiral of her horn glinted the last star of early morning.
	“Why, that’s it! That’s your name. Morning Star. Do you like it?”
	She giggled as the unicorn tossed her head as if nodding in agreement. Sheila got to her feet, stretching, trying to get her muscles to limber up. After a moment she became aware of eyes on her, and realized that all the others in the camp were watching her, almost as though she were some kind of exotic animal that might do something dangerous.
	Great. They still think I’m a sorceress. And they’re scared of magic.
	Pelu was sitting nearby, toasting something over a small fire, looking as calm and settled as though she had been awake for hours. “Good morning,” Sheila said to her with a determinedly cheerful smile, and was a little relieved to see the young woman return the smile. Pelu at least, wasn’t scared of her. Or not so it showed, anyhow.
	“Good morning, Sheila. Come have some breakfast,”
	“Yes,” added Darian, stopping by Pelu’s side. “And then, Sheila, you can start learning how to ride.”
	“And to use a bow,” Kara joined in.
	“And a sword,” said Illyria. Sheila looked dismayed. “I told you it wasn’t going to be easy, didn’t I?”
 
It wasn’t.
	Sheila stood next to Morning Star, looking up at the unicorn’s back. It seemed impossibly far away. “How do I get up there?” she asked Darian plaintively.
	The boy gave her a puzzled look, “We found you a spare saddle. What more could you want?”
	“Stirrups, for a start!”
	“Stirrups?” He echoed the unfamiliar word carefully.
“You know, sort of loops that hang from the saddle. You put your foot in one to help you climb on, then keep both feet in them while you ride.”
	“Whatever for?”
	“Well . . . to keep you from falling off, for one thing.”
	Darian shook his head impatiently. “You don’t fall off that easily. Look, all you have to do is vault onto a horse’s back, and then just sit his gaits. It isn’t difficult.”
	“Maybe not for you!” muttered Sheila, “All right, here we go.”
	She took a running start, made a graceful leap—and smacked right into the unicorn’s side. Morning Star gave her a reproachful look.
	“Sorry.”
	On her second attempt she leaped a little higher—and found herself dangling foolishly half on, half off the unicorn’s back.
	“Darian! Help!”
	But he only cheered her on, “That’s it! You’re getting it.”
	“Oh, I am, am I?”
	She gave a mighty heave, lost her balance, and slid back down to the ground in a heap.
	“Oh, rats!”
	Gritting her teeth with determination, she got to her feet, backed off, gave a mighty leap up—and found herself sailing right over Morning Star’s back, landing with a thud on her backside. The unicorn turned her head to watch, and Sheila could have sworn she was laughing.
	“All right,” she said grimly. “One more time.”
	She leaped. For a moment she was hanging on for dear life—and then she found herself sitting astride Morning Star! Sheila laughed. It was so high up here, but so wonderful! She could feel the warm strength of the unicorn under her, and the long black mane felt like silk in her hands.
	“I did it! Hey, Darian, look. I did it!”
	“Sure.” He grinned at her. “Now you only have to learn to ride.”

                *              *              *

	By the end of her first lesson, Sheila was so stiff she could barely slide from Morning Star’s back,
	“But I stayed on,” she told the unicorn, hugging the glossy neck. “I stayed on at the walk and the trot and even the canter!”
	“So you did,” said Kara calmly. “Now let us see if you can handle a bow as well.”
	“Handle it,” said Sheila a little later, when they were standing before a makeshift target made out of some straw tied into a rag. “I can’t even draw your bow!”
	That actually got a faint smile out of the grim Kara, “I thought you might have trouble. Don’t feel bad about it, though; it’s an expert’s weapon, after all. Pelu can’t draw it, either. Let’s try something else. Hey, Dian! You and Sheila aren’t that far apart in size.  Lend her your bow.”
	Dian glared at Sheila. “Just don’t go putting any spells on it,” she said.
	“Hey, I-“
	But Dian had already stalked away.
	“All right, Sheila. Pay attention. We don’t have any blunt target arrows with us, so we’ll have to use the real thing. I don’t like the idea, but . . . Come, you hold the bow like this,”
	The lesson came pretty close to being a disaster, Sheila, who had thought her arm was strong enough, found out that holding a fully drawn bow was very different from throwing a softball to first base. As hard as she tried to keep her arm steady, something always went wrong each time she loosed an arrow. The first one dropped right off the bow. The second shot straight up into the air.  The third missed the target altogether and landed in a tree. Kara was very plainly holding in her temper, keeping her voice just a little too calm and quiet. But when the fourth arrow shot off at a wild angle, making the other women dive for cover, the archer shook her head.
	“Looks like the bow just isn’t your weapon,” she said with great restraint. “Well, try once more. Carefully this time!”
	Shaking, all Sheila did this time was shoot down the target.
	“Give me that!” Dian snatched the bow from her hands, examining it for scratches, then glared at Sheila.  “Stick to your spells, sorceress!” she hissed. “You’ll never make a warrior!”
	That night, too sore and tired to sleep, Sheila silently agreed with her. Oh, Illyria had tested her with the sword and told her she showed definite promise as a swords­woman, but still…
	I want to go home! Sheila thought. Dr. Reit, wherever you are, I just want to go home!
         

      
8) Rivalries

	The next day the warrior troop moved on, headed for Campora and the rescue of the captive unicorns. And Sheila, aching in every muscle, went with them. There wasn’t any choice. It was either ride with them or stay behind in the middle of nowhere. She endured what seemed an eternity astride Morning Star, She was so sore she could barely stay in the saddle and wondered if she would be able to walk again. When they finally stopped for the night Sheila almost fell out of the saddle, clinging to Morning Star for support, then sank gratefully to the ground, exhausted.
	“Hey, what’s this?” It was Myno’s rough voice. “Resting? Not yet! We have work to do!”
	“Myno, please…”
	“Come on, lazy girl, up!”
	And Sheila forced herself through the agony of a rigorous workout with the sturdy ex-slave, running, climbing, lifting. At last it was over, Myno dismissed her with a disapproving shake of the head, and Sheila gladly began to sit down once more.
	“Oh, no. Not yet.” It was Illyria, looking down at her with a wry smile. “Come, girl. Take up your sword.”
	Groaning, Sheila obeyed. No wonder Illyria had said that many women couldn’t endure a warrior’s training! 

She wasn’t so sure she could endure! But if she failed…

	Dian expected her to fail. In fact, Dian wanted her to fail! Sheila pictured the smug look on that dark-eyed face and clenched her fists in anger.
	Sorry, Dian. I don’t give up so easily.
	Just because of that, Sheila vowed, just because Dian thought she was nothing but a—a weak little girl, she refused to fail.  She would become a warrior.
	Even, thought Sheila wearily, if it kills me!
	Gradually, much to her amazement, things began to get better. After two days of misery Sheila found herself feeling quite at home on Morning Star’s back, even without stirrups. No longer aching with every jolt, Sheila realized she could keep her balance easily even when the high-spirited young unicorn threw in a good-humored buck or two!
	Things were getting easier when she was on foot, too. One amazing day she actually found herself outracing Myno, and not even panting—well, at least not to much.
	“Good,” the ex-slave told her. “Very good!” and gave Sheila an encouraging slap on the back that nearly knocked the wind out of her.
	As time went on, Sheila really began to look forward to the lessons in swordplay she received from Illyria. At first, of course, the woman would easily knock aside the girl’s weapon, rapping her sharply on her shoulder or chest. But little by little it dawned on Sheila that the grace and speed needed to be a good swordswoman weren’t all that different from the skills needed to be a good third base­man. Once she realized that, she picked up fencing moves so swiftly that both she and Illyria were delighted. At last the day came when Sheila was able to hold her own in a duel for so long that Illyria called a halt, grinning, and said: “At first, I admit, I had my doubts about you. But—here, Sheila. This was Darian’s sword until he outgrew its grip. It’s a good blade. Wear it with honor.  You are a warrior after all!”
	The days that followed passed in a blur for Sheila. To her secret wonder and delight, she no longer spent her time exhausted and aching. And when she chanced to catch sight of her reflection in a pool, she was stunned. Who was this lean, hazel-eyed girl? She recognized herself only by her freckles! Fat had disappeared, replaced by hard muscle, and though her skin had burned painfully in the hot sun at first, now it had tanned to a smooth golden brown.
	Sheila drew back a little, studying herself. Her jeans were holding up pretty well, but her shirt had been patched so many times with so many different colored scraps of material that she looked like a character out of a fantasy tale.
	Well, I am! she realized with a shock.
	Gone was the soft city girl. In her place, Sheila realized with some pride, was a strong young warrior-woman who could ride all day and do what needed to be done without complaint. She rested a hand on the sword hanging at her hip and smiled.
	Of course, the heroic life still left a lot to be desired. Just once it would be nice to sleep on something softer than the ground. And as for provisions: well, at least clean drinking water was no problem. The power of Goodness was so strong in the unicorns that all Quiet Storm had to do when they came to a pond or stream was touch his silver horn to it, and the water instantly
became sparklingly clear.
	Too bad my own world doesn’t have unicorns, thought Sheila sadly.
	But even with clean water to drink, the problem of food remained. There was little to eat save what the warriors happened to catch along the way: rabbit and lizard mostly.
	Sheila had to stop herself from daydreaming about cheeseburgers and ice cream.
But at least the others were beginning to treat her as one of them, almost as a friend.
	All of them except Dian, of course. She continued to be hostile, until Sheila cornered her at last.  “All right, Dian. I’ve had just about enough of this. I don’t hate you. Why do you hate me?”
	The other girl gave her a contemptuous look. “I don’t hate you.”
	“Oh, no. You just go out of your way to try to make me feel like—like something you want to step on! Look, Dian, I’m not stupid. Every time you see me, you either glare at me—particularly if I dare to crack a joke with Darian—or talk to the person next to me as though I’m invisible!”
	“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Excuse me. I have to go take care of my unicorn.”
	“Dian!”
	“All right! I don’t like you. You don’t like me. Let’s just leave it like that.”
	Sheila sighed. As Dian stomped away, Sheila thought, Spoiled brat! Before I came, you were the youngest. Everyone babied you. But now I’m here, and you’re so-o-o jealous!
	Well, that was just too bad. From now on, Sheila decided, she would simply ignore the girl, and that was that.
	But it wasn’t so simple. The next day, while Sheila was running with Myno, a loose rock rolled into her path, sending her sprawling.
	“An accident,” Myno told her, but Sheila, rubbing a scraped knee, wondered.
	The day after that Sheila and the others were tying the tents onto one of the pack horses when the rope she was pulling suddenly snapped in two; all the carefully packed bundles came tumbling down on top of her.
	“An accident,” Pelu assured her, but Sheila realized that the women were watching her uneasily.
	Great. Now they’re wondering if I’m a jinx!
	There didn’t seem to be much she could do about it,
 
	The next day Sheila was with Morning Star, trying to groom the playfully fidgeting mare, when a furious Illyria came storming up to her.
	“What do you think you’re doing?”
	Sheila blinked. “Grooming Morning Star. Why-“ 
	“Here you’ve been after me to give you something important to do. Fine I told you to go out with Kara and Nanine on a scouting mission this morning. But they couldn’t find you! What are you doing here?”
	“But-you never-nobody told me-“
	“Don’t try to lie to me! I sent Dian to tell you-“ 
	“Dian!”
	“Yes! I sent her on the mission instead of you!” 
	“But, Illyria, you don’t understand. Dian never said-“ 
	“Are you trying to put the blame on her?”
	Sheila sighed. “No,” What good would arguing do? It was just her word against Dian’s, after all.
	Oh, Dian, Sheila thought, somehow I’m going to get you for this!
	But how?
 
	She found out that afternoon, when it dawned on her that everyone in the camp was surreptitiously watching her.  Did they know Dian was to blame for what had been happening? Were they testing Sheila to see how she would react?
	And just where was Dian? Suddenly suspicious, Sheila decided to find out. She wouldn’t have gone very far from the camp, not by herself with night coming on.
	Wait a minute. What was that flicker of motion, there in the shadows? Sheila pretended not to notice, but she knew . . . that was Dian, all right, holding what looked like a saddle girth.
	Sheila straightened. I’ll say it is! It’s Morning Star’s girth! I’d know that weave anywhere! I’ll bet Dian’s up to no good!
	Carefully Sheila stalked forward as she had been taught, moving silently as a cat, till she was right behind the other girl.
	“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked coldly, and was delighted to hear Dian actually scream with shock.
	“Oh . . . I .. . found this lying around, and-“
	“And you were picking it up with your knife? Oh, come on! What were you really doing? Cutting the girth just enough so it would snap? So I’d go tumbling off Morning Star and make a fool of myself?”
	“No!” Dian drew herself up haughtily. “Besides, there’s no mark on the girth. You can’t prove a thing.”
	Sudden inspiration made Sheila laugh. “Oh, I don’t have to,” she said, trying to make her voice sound cold and mysterious. “The spirits will do that for me.”
	“I—I don’t believe you.”
	“Have you forgotten I’m a sorceress?”
	“You don’t have any magic, not any powerful magic!”
	“Don’t I? Apologize now, Dian-“
	“I won’t!”
	“Then the spirit voices will get you—tonight!”
	She shouted the last word. Dian gasped, and fled.
 
                *              *
	The night was still and calm. The only sounds to be heard were the faint chirpings of insects. The camp slept. And then ...
	“Dian. Waken, Dian.”
	The voices were shrill and ghostly.
	“Dian. We call to you. Waken.”
	The girl sat up with a gasp. “Who . . . who are you? Where are you?”
	“We were summoned,” whispered the voices. “You know by whom. We were summoned from the Other World. We are here for you, Dian.”
	“N-no. Go away.”
	“We are coming to get you. We are all around you.”
	“No! Don’t-“
	“We are coming closer . . closer . . . We are HERE!”
	At that, Dian screamed in sheer terror. The others jumped wildly to their feet. Swords flashed. And amid all the confusion, Sheila stood up calmly and switched off her cassette player. The “ghostly” voices she had recorded stopped immediately. She smiled sweetly at Dian.
	“I did warn you,” Sheila said calmly.
	There was a moment of startled silence. And then all the camp burst into laughter.
	“Well done, Sheila!” called Pelu. “Oh, well done!”
	“Clever, indeed,” said Illyria. “But I think we’ve had enough of feuding between you two. Sheila. Dian. Come here, shake hands and have an end to it.”
	Triumphant, Sheila held out her hand. Dian hesitated then turned and rushed off into the night.
	Illyria sighed. “She’ll be back. All right, everyone. The excitement is over for the night. Go back to bed.”
	But Sheila couldn’t sleep. The memory of Dian’s hot hating eyes remained in her mind. And she couldn’t help but wonder, had she just made a very bad enemy?


9) The Rescue

	As the days passed, Dian made a point of avoiding Sheila, turning away whenever she saw her, pretending to be very busy whenever Sheila happened to come near,
	Well, that’s just fine with me, thought Sheila.
	Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if this truce meant that Dian was plotting some sort of weird revenge.
	Never mind, Sheila decided. I’m not going to worry about it!
	After all, things were getting far too interesting for her to waste time thinking about a silly spoiled brat. Now that the warrior-women had finally accepted Sheila as one of their group—though they were still wary of her magic—she was learning a lot of fascinating stuff. Pelu was teaching her the names of the proper herbs to heal a sword cut or a sprained ankle. Myno was showing her all sorts of tricks: like how to toss a dagger into the air and catch it neatly by the hilt. And even haughty Nanine was un­bending enough to tell Sheila some of the exotic tales of gods and heroes from her homeland far to the south.
	The land had gotten more interesting, too. They had finally left the last of the grassy plains behind and were climbing through a maze of thickly wooded hills and meadows so lush with grass that those unicorns who weren’t being ridden frolicked, tails in the air, like a bunch of colts, trying to decide what to eat first, Sheila giggled.
	“They look so silly!”
	Illyria smiled. “They certainly do.” She glanced at Sheila, who was sitting easily on Morning Star’s back, one leg hooked comfortably over the pommel of the saddle as though she was riding sidesaddle. “Be careful. Don’t forget she’s a living animal, not some overstuffed chair.”
	Sheila patted the unicorn’s silky neck. “Oh, she wouldn’t even think of bucking me off. Would you, girl?”
	Morning Star flicked an ear back to listen to her, and snorted as though in agreement.
	“You miss the point, Sheila. This is the sort of terrain snakes and bears love, but that unicorns, like horses, don’t like,”
	“Smart unicorns!” said Sheila, patting Morning Star again. She didn’t notice Dian watching her. If she had she might have seen the girl’s eyes brighten at the mention of snakes. But Sheila had no warning at all for what was to come next,
	They were climbing a steep, rocky stretch, a tangled forest of bushes on their tight, the land falling away on their left, down to a wooded ravine through which a wild river roared its way.
	It was Pelu’s turn to act as advance scout. “Come on,” she called down. “We’re almost at the top. And things level out nicely up here.”
	“Fine,” said Illyria. “We’ll be able to give the unicorns a chance to catch their breath.”
	It got a little confusing, as those who reached the plateau first hurriedly dismounted, trying to leave enough room for the rest of the troop. Sheila, nearly last because she had let Morning Star stop for a quick bit of a tasty shrub, was still sitting the unicorn when she saw Dian spring to the around ahead of her and snatch something out of a bush. A snake, Sheila realized in horror.
	And Dian flung it right in front of Morning Star! With a squeal of terror, the unicorn shied away in one violent leap. Sheila lost her balance completely and went flying!
	The cliff! I’ll fall all the way to the river—I’ll die!
	But strong arms caught her just in time, pulling her away from danger.
	The arms belonged to Darian. “Are—are you all right?” he stammered.
	 nodded, too dazed to do more than look up at Darian, whose eyes were warm with concern, and realized that it wasn’t at all unpleasant to be held by such a handsome boy.
	Then her senses returned, and Sheila scrambled to her feet. “You—you saved me. I don’t know how to thank you.
	He reddened. “I didn’t do it for a reward.”
	“I know, but . . . ah! Here. I want you to have this.”
	Quickly she unfastened her watch and handed it over to him.
	Darian’s eyes lit up. “I will cherish this magic gift forever!”
	“Oh, Darian, it isn’t magic, really it’s-“
	But by now they were the center of the whole worried troop of warriors, all of them asking at the same time: “Are you hurt?” “Is everything all right?” “Did you break anything?”
	“I’m fine, really,” Sheila began, “thanks to Darian. I-“ But then she saw a white-faced Dian standing to one side and shouted at her, “You! What sort of a stupid-“
	“I-I didn’t mean any harm!” the girl stammered. “I only-“
	“Didn’t mean any harm!” echoed Illyria grimly. “You could have killed her! If she had fallen just a little farther to the left, or if Darian had been just a Little slower to react ...”
	Dian’s eyes widened in honor. “I never thought . . . I only wanted    Her voice rose hysterically. “Don’t you see? It’s all her fault! Everything was fine until she joined us! You think she’s so sweet, so innocent—ha! She’s bewitched you all with her magic!  Well, I’m going to put a stop to it, right now!”
	Sheila’s backpack had slipped off in her fall. Dian snatched it up and went racing madly down the steep, wooded slope toward the rushing water.
	She’s going to throw my pack into the river! thought Sheila.
	She hurried after Dian, scrambling down the steep embankment. Slipping and sliding down the crumbling earth, getting scratched and snagging her clothes on thorns and branches, stubbing her toes on rocks. Once she tripped over a root and nearly tumbled all the way down.
	“Dian! Don’t!”
	The roar of the river drowned her out. Dian was all set to hurl the backpack into it, so Sheila lunged at her, grabbing for the pack. The two girls struggled fiercely there on the river’s edge. Sheila tore her pack out of Dian’s hands. But the other girl, kicking and hitting, wasn’t giving up. Part of the bank crumbled under her feet and splashed into the river during the fight, and Sheila gasped.
	“Dian, stop it! There isn’t room-“
	“Sorceress! I don’t care!”
	She swung wildly at Sheila—and the earth gave way completely! With a scream of terror, Dian plunged into the raging river!
	“Dian!” Sheila threw herself down on the bank, reaching out as far as she could over the water. “Give me your hand!”
	“I can’t! The—the current’s too strong!”
	Struggling desperately, Dian was swept downstream, white water breaking over her head again and again.
	She’s going to drown! Sheila looked frantically up the embankment, but the others were just beginning to make their way down to her. They would never get down in time! I’ve got to save her! But how? If I go in there, I’ll drown, too!
	She wouldn’t panic. She refused to panic. Heart pounding painfully, Sheila stared downstream. That tree—it hung way out   over the river. If only it was sturdy enough!
	There wasn’t time to worry about it. Sheila raced to the tree and shinnied out onto a branch. Ugh, it was slimy, and slippery from waves hitting it. Sheila gasped as the cold water struck her, too, and held on with all her strength. She would have only one shot at this. Here came Dian . . . a little farther…
	Now!
	Clinging to the branch with one arm and both legs, Sheila grabbed wildly for the girl. Her hand snagged something—Dian’s   tunic! In the next moment Dian’s hand had closed about her wrist, and Sheila began to carefully work her way back down the slippery branch. It was creaking—it was going to break!
	Not yet! she pleaded with it. Oh, please, not yet!
	But suddenly arms were reaching for her, drawing Sheila and Dian to safety.
	“It’s all right,” said Illyria quietly. “It’s over.
	Dian, gasping for breath, stared at Sheila. “You . saved my life.”
	“I guess I did.”
	“Why?”
	“You’re kidding, right? I wasn’t going to let you die over a—a backpack! Which reminds me . .
	She scrambled back along the bank to where the pack had fallen and gladly slipped it into place once more, then rejoined the others. Dian was still staring.
	“Thank you,” she said grudgingly.
	“Gee, I’m thrilled by your enthusiasm.”
	“I said thank you. What more do you want?”
	Sheila sighed. “I was kind of thinking of friendship. But forget it. I’ll just settle for a truce.”
	“Good enough,” said Illyria. “Come, let’s get you into some dry clothes.”
	But as they climbed wearily back up, a shadow crossed Sheila’s face, She craned her head back and gave a little cry of surprise.
	“The eagles!  The giant eagles! They’re back!”
	Illyria nodded curtly. “They’ve been following us ever since—ever since we started this mission. They almost seem to be trying to protect us. And who are we to argue with them?”
	She smiled. But for a bewildering instant Sheila saw sorrow, sheer heartbreaking sorrow, on the woman’s face.
	And she wondered.


10) Illyria’s Story

	They traveled on through the rugged region all that day, till Sheila was sick and tired of hills. Every time Morning  Star came to the crest of one, Sheila sat as tall as she could in the saddle, hoping to see something new. But each time all she saw  was yet another ridge before her.
	“But there is something different now,” she said to Pelu, who was riding beside her, “something about the air.” The girl took a deep breath, then nodded. “Salt. And fish. Ocean, that’s it. I could swear I’m smelling the ocean.”
	“You are.” Myno’s voice was grim. “Campora’s harbor lies on the coast just beyond the last of these hills. We haven’t too much farther to go.”
	Campora. Suddenly Sheila felt a chill run up her spine. Up to this moment she had almost completely forgotten the real reason for their journey, caught up as she was in learning the skills of warrior-women. But this wasn’t any simple little cross-country pleasure trip!
	Campora. The girl thought of the tyrant of that city, the Emperor Dynasian, and winced. Judging from the stories she had heard from Myno and the others, he sounded very much like someone she never wanted to meet. And what about Mardock, his sorcerer?
	Sheila shivered again. Magic was real here. It worked. 
	Oh, everyone might think she had powers of her own, but it was air just a game! If it came down to a fight between  her and Mardock . . . how could she, with only things like a—a harmless flashlight to help her, ever hope to defend herself against  an honest-to-goodness evil sorcerer?
	Maybe it won’t come to that, she told herself. Maybe we’ll be able to find out where the captive unicorns are held and free them without having to fight anyone.
	Sure. And maybe Superman would fly down out of the sky to help them.
	Morning Star was sidling nervously under her, and Sheila forgot her own fears and concentrated only on calming the mare.  Now that she noticed it, all the unicorns were uneasy,  snorting and prancing, for as long as the wind brew from the sea—and Campora.
	“They sense evil,” murmured Pelu softly. “They do, indeed.”
	Knowing their goal was so near, Illyria pushed her troop on without pause all the rest of that day, her eyes cold,  her face grim. As the sun began to slip behind the ridges to the west and twilight came on, she still showed no sign of wanting to  stop. Sheila brought Morning Star up along­side Quiet Storm, who was as uneasy as the rest of the unicorns, and cleared her throat  cautiously.
	Illyria didn’t respond.
	“Uh . . . Illyria? If we don’t stop soon, it’s going to be too dark to see where we’re going. We’ll get stuck halfway down this hill, without any place to camp.”

	“We’ll camp.” The woman’s voice sounded distant, “There’s a little valley, right down there,”

	There was. But by the time the troop reached it, it was too dark to do anything more than unsaddle the unicorns and settle down for the night as they were. Sheila thought back on all that had happened that day, from the adventure at the river’s edge, to all the riding they had done, and sighed wearily. Her eyes closed. Before she knew what was happening, she was asleep.
	Sheila came awake with a jolt, staring blankly up into the night sky ablaze with stars.
What. . Was I dreaming?
	She thought she heard a voice calling plaintively.
	Silence.
	It must have been a dream.
	Sheila closed her eyes, only to open them again at the sound of a groan. Now, that was no dream. Or, rather, it wasn’t her dream. Illyria, asleep beside her, was moaning, tossing restlessly about. She murmured a name, “Egael,” and Sheila was shocked to see tears glint on her face.
	She’s having a nightmare.. Guess I’d better wake her up.
	“Illyria?” Sheila said softly, not wanting to wake up everybody else. “Illyria.”
	When the woman didn’t stir, Sheila reached out gingerly to give her a gentle shake. And that woke Illyria up, all right! ‘The woman came springing up with a warrior’s trained reactions, flinging Sheila aside. The next thing the girl knew, she was lying flat on her back, Illyria’s knife at her throat!
	“Hey. It’s only me, Sheila.”
	After a tense second recognition flooded Illyria’s eyes. Fully awake, she slid the knife back into its sheath.
	“Don’t ever, ever do that again, Sheila,” she said softly. “I might have killed you.”
	“Sorry. It’s just . . . you seemed to be having such a bad dream, I thought you would want to get out of it.”
	Illyria sagged wearily. Her braids had come loose during the night, and sitting there as she was, surrounded by the long, silvery-blond waves, she looked much younger than the fierce warrior-woman of the daytime. Why, she can’t be more than . . . oh, maybe nineteen or twenty! Sheila realized in surprise.
	“Yes,” said Illyria after a moment, “it was a foul dream. Thank you. Go back to sleep now, Sheila.”
	She pulled her cloak about her, looking so unhappy that Sheila couldn’t obey. “You called out a name,” she began hesitantly. “Egael.”
	Illyria flinched but said nothing, and Sheila continued: “Isn’t Egael the name of the man you once helped?”
	Illyria glared, as though angry at her for prying. But as fast as it had come, the anger faded. Head drooping, Illyria sighed and nodded, “I see Pelu told you part of my story,” she said slowly. “Now let me tell you the rest and get it over with. It began simply enough, a pleasant spring day, Dadan and I out riding for our pleasure.
	When we first found the injured man, he lay so still I felt certain he was dead. And a part of me wept inside at that  thought because, even with the bruises of his beating on him, he was still so young and handsome that my heart sang. But then Darian cried:
	“He’s still alive! I saw his chest move!”
	The two of us struggled to bring him safely down to my father’s house. It . . . was a fair, comfortable home in those days, clean and neat and smelling sweetly of hay and herbs. A fine place to tend a wounded stranger.
	He woke soon after I had bathed him and tended his injuries, his eyes the piercing eyes of some wild thing. “Don’t be afraid,” I told him. “You’re among friends.”
	“You must know-I must warn you-“ he gasped, then fell back into an exhausted sleep, leaving me full of sudden unease.
	Nor was I any more at ease when the stranger woke again after a time and told me his story:
	“I am… call me Egael,” he said. “And, as I see you have guessed from my accent, I am not from these mountain lands. I am a wanderer, seeing something of the world. But I made a mistake, a bad one: I insulted the soldiers of Dynasian. Ha, your reaction tells me that you’ve heard of him even up here in the countryside.”
	Egael’s tone was light, but his eyes were ablaze with a fierce, barely controlled rage. Just then, they weren’t the eyes of a common wanderer at all.
	“And what did I do that was so terribly insulting,” Egael continued, “me, a man afoot, while they were tiding so proud and fine up there on their steeds? I didn’t step aside quickly enough to suit them. I didn’t grovel deeply enough in apology. So they beat me and left me for dead.” Those fierce, handsome eyes burned into mine. “And dead I would have been, lady, alone and wounded as I was, after a night without shelter out there in the chill of the mountain air, if it hadn’t been for you. All my gratitude to you.”
	“Hush,” I told him. “Enough talking for now. Rest.”
	But when he closed his eyes once more, I was more troubled than before. A man who had drawn down the wrath of Dynasian’s soldiers on himself might draw it down on us, too! Our village was isolated enough to have had little to do with the emperor or his men, and after hearing some of the horrible tales of Dynasian’s cruelty that were filtering out of distant Campora, I wanted to keep it that way.
	And I doubt that he’s just a simple wanderer, I told myself. His way of speaking is too fine for that.
	Egael. What manner of name was that? I had rescued a mystery man, indeed. Surely I should turn him out and be done with him
	And yet . . . Egael was so handsome .
	More practically, to throw him out now, before he was strong enough to take care of himself, would almost certainly mean his death.
	So Egael stayed, and healed with great speed that was almost supernatural. And a miracle blossomed between us. I’m not even sure when I first realized the truth of it, but—though our time together was all too brief, though I knew nothing about him, and he knew little about me, Egael and I fell in love.
	But then one night I awoke to the sound of a door slamming. I knew in an instant that he had left, as suddenly and mysteriously as he had appeared. “Egael?” I called, then again, “Egael! Where are you?”
	I ran outside into the night, searching wildly, calling his name—Fruitlessly. Egael was gone, gone as totally as if he had never existed. And only the wild, lonely cry of an eagle answered my call.
	And as I stood in the moonlight crying for my lost love ... Quiet Storm appeared. Almost as if he had been sent to comfort and help me.
	Illyria stirred restlessly and the spell of her words was broken. Sheila knew the rest of the story.
	“And the giant eagles?”
	“As I’ve told you. They’ve been following us at a distance ever since we set out to free the unicorns that Dynasian has imprisoned.”
	Illyria turned away abruptly. Sheila stared at her shaken. Sheila had felt the stirrings of romance already; she had enjoyed being held by handsome Darian, for one thing. And once, pretty much by accident, she and a boy at school, tall, shy Steve, had kissed. But Illyria’s continuing love for Egael was stronger, finer, more romantic than anything Sheila had ever dreamed.
	She’s still looking for him, the girl realized. She’s still seeking him everywhere she goes. “I hope you find each other,” she told Illyria softly.
	“What’s that, Sheila?”
	“Oh, nothing.”
	But to herself she added silently, I hope you and Egael get to live happily ever after.

 
11) Campora at Last

	As the troop of warrior-women rode on, the scent of the sea grew ever stronger. If Sheila listened carefully and the wind was right, she was sure she could make out the dis­tant sound of waves. And surely those birds soaring by overhead were gulls, just like the ones at home.
	Home. With a pang of guilt, Sheila realized she hadn’t thought about her own world for days. This was the real world now; that other one of homework and softball games, that place without magic where she was only Sheila McCarthy, schoolgirl, seemed more and more like a dream.
	But just then Morning Star gave a nervous little buck jarring Sheila out of her bewildered thoughts.  “Hey, easy, girl! Nothing to be afraid of.”
	Morning Star wasn’t alone. All the unicorns were growing more and more uneasy with every step they took.
	“They’ve caught the scent of their captive friends,” said Nanine. “And of Mardock and his evil sorcery, I think.”
	Illyria nodded. “Even Quiet Storm is nervous. I doubt the unicorns will let us ride them much farther.”
	“Well, we’re not that far from the city now, are we?” asked Sheila.
	“Not far at all.” Myno’s eyes were dark with memory.  “I should know,” she added under her breath. ”I escaped from Campora over these hills.”
	Sheila winced at the bitterness on the ex-slave’s face. Poor Myno! How she must have suffered! “Well,” Sheila said with forced cheerfulness, “we could hardly ride the unicorns right down Campora’s main street, anyhow.”
	Myno only grunted. Sheila tried to think of something else to say to rouse the woman out of her unhappy memories. But just then Morning Star reached the top of one particularly steep hill, and everything Sheila was going to say went flying out of her mind.  All she could do was sit her unicorn and stare.
	The land fell sharply away from where they paused, sweeping away to the rolling sea which glittered sapphire blue in the sunlight, a blue sea dotted with ships bearing wide sails of bright white, and yellow, and red. At one point the land curved in to form a wide harbor. And there, where sea met shore, stood a city that could only be Campora.
	Sheila gasped. Maybe the capital of the empire wasn’t as large as New York or Chicago, but—oh, how beautiful it was! Campora was a confusing mixture of sweeping walls and elegant palaces, graceful towers, domed pavilions and buildings with so many columns that they reminded her of pictures of Greek temples she had seen. All the city seemed to be made of marble, or at least of some type of smooth, sleek stone that gleamed white in the sunlight. Ornamental traceries of gold reflected the bright light back again, till Sheila, dazzled, had to blink and look away.
	“It-it’s like something out of a fairy tale!” she breathed.  
	Muttered Myno grimly, “From up here. Down there, thanks to Dynasian the usurper, that pretty fairy tale turns into a horror story.
	Sheila stared at her. “What do you mean?”
	Myno shrugged. “Where do I start? Only those with a lot of gold live comfortably there. And even they, the nose-in-the-air aristocrats, can’t relax altogether. They never know when Dynasian may decide one or the other of them is a traitor, fit only for the executioner’s ax. As for the poor—well, it’s not difficult to wind up poor in Campora, because even those with only a few copper coins to rub together still are taxed heavily by Dynasian. He has to find some way to pay for his pretty games.”
	“Games?” asked Sheila warily.
	“Why, gladiatorial games, girl! Man against man, man against beast, to the death, all for the amusement of the emperor.  And those who can’t pay his taxes wind up sold on the market block as slaves.”
	Something in Myno’s eyes told Sheila that that had been her fate. Sheila shivered. “I-I see.”
	Myno grunted. “The only people who wander Campora’s streets freely are robbers and beggars—until Dynasian’s soldiers round them up, too—for the games.”
	And we’re going in there? Sheila thought wildly. To get the unicorns away from Dynasian?
	Heart racing, she fought a fierce battle with the panic that was screaming to her to drop everything and run for her life. But running wasn’t going to solve anything!
	Sheila braced herself and calmly took stock of her condition. Her jeans were still in pretty good shape, although they were ragged in some places and patched in others. Her shirt, though, was so shabby and stained that even a punk rocker would have scorned it, She glanced around at the others.
	They didn’t look much better. Only Illyria and the elegant Nanine had ever had anything like full armor. The others wore whatever unmatched bits and pieces they had been able to pick up along the way, though Kara had managed to add some turquoise ornaments, and Myno did wear a few pieces of bright copper. There were a few other brave attempts at beautification. But beneath those weather-beaten leather scraps of armor and ragged cloaks, nobody seemed to be wearing anything that didn’t have at least five patches. Even Illyria’s once-elegant red tunic had been mended to the point where the sleeves were now barely long enough to cover her shoulders. They looked like beggars themselves.
	That’s it! Sheila thought. “Robbers and beggars, eh? Well, we may not be robbers, but we’re certainly dressed like beggars!  We shouldn’t have any trouble getting into the city.”
	“Some of us,” Illyria corrected. “’The smaller the group, the less attention we’re likely to attract. We’ll split up. Yes,” she said over the chorus of nervous comments, “we will split up. Myno, I’ll need you with me; you know where to find the royal stables.
	And Sheila, you will be coming with me, too. I know you’re still an apprentice sorceress, but if we have the misfortune to run into any of Mardock’s spells, you just may know how to cancel them.” 
	Sheila almost choked. “But I don’t-I can’t-“
	“I might have known you’d be afraid,” said Dian contemptuously. “Illyria, take me with you instead. I’m not afraid!”
	“Then you’re foolish,” Illyria told her shortly. As Dian stared, openmouthed with shock, the woman continued. “I want you and Pelu to stay with the unicorns. Try to get them down to the beach if you can; if we’re cut off on land, we still may be able to make a break for it by sea.”
	“Assuming, of course, that we can convince a herd of frightened unicorns to board a ship,” murmured Pelu wryly.
	“As for you, Kara and Nanine,” said Illyria, “and-yes, Darian, you, too, I haven’t forgotten you-you’re to wait.”
	Darian frowned, disappointed. “Wait? Just wait? How long?”
	Illyria stared hard at the city. “It should take us a day to get into Campora, another day to find the captive Unicorns. . . .
	Give us three days’ grace. If you haven’t heard from us by then, I want you to forget about us,”
	“No!”
	“Yes, brother. Forget about us and try to rescue the unicorns.”
	She looked at them all. “Any questions? No? So be it. Remember this, my friends, for the sake of the land and everyone on it: Whatever else happens, those unicorns must be freed!”
	As Sheila went off with Illyria and Myno, her thoughts were fixed on Campora and the dangers of their mission. She did not look back at Darian and the others who waited with the unicorns.
	“I still don’t like this,” Darian said as he watched Pelu and Dian prepare to drive the unicorn herd to the sea.
	Pelu sighed, sitting her unicorn comfortably. “I know you don’t. I don’t either. But your sister usually knows what she’s doing. And with any luck at all, we’ll all be back together again—with the unicorns—soon enough. Till then, good luck to you, Darian, Kara, Nanine. Dian, let’s go.”
	Pelu and Dian hadn’t ridden very far before Dian gasped. “Pelu, look! The eagles!”
	“You’ve seen them before, Dian.”
	“Not this close!”
	Pelu glanced up and gasped in spite of herself. The great birds did seem to be diving right toward them.  “They’re curious, that’s all. Come now, Dian, you’ve seen them at fairly close range before.”
	But Dian was staring up into the heavens. “Look out!” she screamed, and whipped out her sword.
	Deadly beaks gaping open, sharp talons outstretched, the eagles were attacking! Pelu hastily drew her own sword, wondering how two swordswomen were going to be able to beat back so many winged attackers. Their fierce screams rang in her ears, the wind from their wings buffeted her, but every time she tried to strike at an eagle, it managed to fly up, just out of her reach.
	It-it’s almost as though they’re trying to keep us from leaving, the woman realized, almost as though they’re herding us!
	Just as she thought this, the leader of the eagles, a magnificent, fierce-eyed bird, shrieked out a sharp cry.
	Now, that sounded like a command!  thought Pelu, wondering.
	It was. All the unicorns, including those she and Dian were riding, turned as obediently as trained ponies, despite the warriors’ frantic protests, and trotted nicely back to where Kara, Nanine, and Darian stood stunned, their mouths open. Kara grabbed her bow, hastily fitting an arrow to the string. She drew the bow— And a unicorn gently pushed the weapon aside with his
horn.
	“I-I don’t believe it!” the archer gasped.
	“Believe it,” Pelu told her dryly. “Come on, Dian. Better dismount. I don’t think we’re going anywhere just yet.”
	The eagles continued to circle, skimming so low that the wind they raised stirred the manes of the unicorns. But now there seemed to be a definite pattern to the way they were moving.
	“It looks almost as though they were trying to tell us something!” exclaimed Nanine.
	“Campora!” cried Darian suddenly. “That’s it! They want us to go to Campora!”
	“We don’t know that for certain,” said Pelu. “What about Illyria’s orders?”
	“These eagles, or whatever magical birds they might be, have followed us all along to be sure we accomplished the mission.  They know something about what’s happening in the city and they’re trying to tell us. They’re telling us to go to Campora and help Illyria rescue the unicorns!”
	To the women’s surprise, the eagles all screamed in unison at that, as though they were trying to say, Yes! That’s it!
	“I ... think I’m beginning to believe this,” said Kara slowly.
	Pelu nodded. “The eagles have been mixed up in this from the beginning. And I can’t believe they’re creatures of evil.” She sighed. “Well, are we all in agreement? Yes? Then, Campora it is.” Half in jest, she turned to the unicorns who had been following them. “Here’s where we say goodbye, my friends. We can hardly take you into the city with us.”
	To her astonishment, the unicorns snorted, nodded their heads as though they understood exactly what she was saying, and galloped happily off into the hills. Only Quiet Storm and the other unicorns the warriors had been riding remained, prancing nervously
	“Ah, it’s kind of you to stay,” Pelu told them uncertainly, wondering just how much human speech unicorns did understand. “But what are we going to do with you? Any unicorns who enter the city are going to be in danger.”
	“Not if they don’t enter as unicorns,” said Nanine slowly. “In my land, we have all sorts of festivals involving masquerades. Wait, now . . “  Her deft fingers began weaving long grasses together into something that looked like a long, hollow pyramid.    
	“With your permission,” she said to Quiet Storm, and slipped it on over his horn, tying the cone in place with more strands of grass. “There! As long as he keeps his cloven hoofs hidden in the dust, he can pass as nothing more than a white horse wearing a unicorn disguise!”
	Quiet Storm snorted, tossing his head uneasily. He caught sight of his reflection in a small pool and stared. Then he turned sharply away, obviously insulted, and the women laughed. “Sorry, my friend,” Pelu told him. “But you’re going to have to put up with being just a horse, at least till we free your mistress.”
	Nanine was quickly plaiting disguises for the other unicorns. “But what about us?” she asked. “What are we supposed to be?”
	Pelu looked down at her ragged self. “Why, poor wandering actors, of course! What else? We’ll be . . . Ha, I have it! From now on, friends, we’re the Marvelous Magical Unicorn Troupe!”
	Illyria had been right, Sheila thought wearily. It had taken the three of them a full day to reach Campora by foot. At least they really did look like beggars now, dusty and travel-stained as they were, armor and weapons hidden under their tattered cloaks.
	She craned her head back, staring up and up at the massive city wall, seeing the guards patrolling the top of it. As far as Sheila could tell, the only way into Campora was through those huge, heavy gates of what looked like gleaming bronze. The gates were guarded by grim, spear­bearing soldiers in bronze-studded armor.
	“Are they going to let us in, just like that?” Sheila asked uneasily.
	Myno gave a short, sharp laugh. “Of course not. Campora has enough beggars of its own!”
	“Then how . . . ?”
	Myno glanced up at the sky. “Nearly sundown. That’s just about the time of day we want. See the crowds all around us, all headed toward the city? There’ll be a storm of people pretty soon, all trying to get in before the gates are shut for the night.” She grinned. “The guards aren’t going to have time to check everybody too carefully. And that’s how we’ll get in.”
	It was, indeed. The merchant who brought his cartload of goods into Campora never noticed the three figures who slipped silently out of the back of his cart and stole away into the night-dark streets.
	Sheila glanced eagerly around. Despite the danger, she had been looking forward to her first glimpse inside this exotic city.  What wonders might there be? After all, there’d been such a wild mixture of costumes and lan­guages in the crowd making its slow way through the gates! Peeking warily out of the burlap sacking under which she had burrowed in the merchant’s cart, she had caught glimpses of men and women and children of all colors and types, from poor farmers clad in simple brown or gray tunics, to wealthy folk barely visible through the heavy silk coverings of their elegant litters borne by sweating slaves.
	But now that night was here, there was nothing to see but a maze of unpaved streets, smelling unpleasantly of horses and drains and things Sheila didn’t want to think about, faced on either side by whitewashed houses with barred, shuttered windows.  Everyone but the three warriors seemed to have vanished up those streets or into those mysterious houses.
	“Campora, here we are!” whispered Sheila. “Now what?”
	Illyria tugged the hood of her cloak farther forward to hide the glint of her silvery hair. “Now,” she said, “We find the stables and hope that the unicorns are there.”
	“And hope we can get ‘em out without rousing Dynasian’s whole army,” muttered Myno. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
	It was an eerie walk. The moon had risen, casting a cold, silver light over the quiet city, making the empty streets look like something out of a horror movie, Sheila thought. The warriors kept to the shadows as much as possible, walking as warily and silently as cats. But then all at once, a hand snaked out from an alleyway! Sheila gave a little shriek as it closed about her arm and pulled her into darkness.
	“Eh, what have we here? A girl!”
	Oh, great! thought Sheila, seeing the glint of a knife. A Camporan mugger!
	“C’mon, Raggas, what’ve you caught?”
	Muggers, corrected Sheila, a whole gang of them!
	She couldn’t get to her sword in the cramped space, so instead she brought her knee up sharply and got the thief right in the pit of the stomach. As he doubled up, gagging, Sheila managed to pull her sword free, just as the other thieves tried to rush her, Illyria and Myno joined her, steel flashing in the moonlight.
	“Swords! They’ve got swords!” hissed one of the thieves. “Run!”
	“No, fool! Only nobles carry swords. That means they’ve got gold, too! They’re just women. Get ‘em!”
	As one ruffian rushed Illyria, she skillfully parried his thrust, his long knife sliding up the blade of her sword with a painful screech of metal, till the two hilts locked. For a tense moment Illyria and the man strained against each other, breath hissing with the strain, each trying to tear the weapon out of the other’s grip. Then, with a mighty effort, Illyrla uncoiled her arm and sent the thief staggering back.
	“You—witch!” he cried, and made another rush at her, knife raised. Illyria lunged. Sheila winced and turned away as the shining sword pierced flesh. She heard the man shriek, and looked back just in time to see Illyria quickly pulling her weapon free from his crumpled form.
	“’Just women’?” Illyria asked wryly. “Come, fools. Come and die.”
	But suddenly there was a wild commotion from the street behind them. “The guards!” yelled one of the thieves. “Let’s get outta here!”
	“Good idea!” muttered Myno. “But there’s no place to run. The guards are all around us!”
	Trying not to panic, Sheila glanced tip and gave a little cry of relief. “Look! Those balconies should hold our weight.”
	Illyria nodded. “Hurry!”
	Scrabbling frantically, trying not to make any noise, the three warriors climbed up and up, all the way to a slippery tiled roof.
	“Down!” hissed Illyria, and they lay flat, watching the guards searching the streets below.
	They didn’t see us! thought Sheila in relief. We’re safe! “Myno,” said Illyria softly as the baffled guards dispersed, “aren’t those the stable roofs I see, over there?”
	Myno nodded, and Illyria grinned, her teeth flashing white in the darkness.
	“How conveniently close together the houses all stand. I see no reason for us to risk our necks down there… “
	“When we could be risking them up here, instead,” whispered Sheila.
	“All right, let’s try it,” Illyria ordered.
	As the guards continued to patrol the streets, the three warriors moved silently over the rooftops, leaping lightly from house to house, till at last they had slid over the stable wall down to the ground again. There in a large, well-guarded corral were—“Unicorns!” breathed Sheila. She started forward, but Myno caught her by the arm.
	The three warriors huddled in shadow against a wall as a new squadron of guards approached to relieve the men on duty. The new guards were full of gossip, and the three warriors stole forward to listen. What they heard filled them with horror.
	“Too bad about the unicorns.”
	“Yeah, Pretty beasts. Feels good just to be around them. Too bad they have to die.”
	“It’s that Mardock’s fault.” The soldier dropped his voice to a wary whisper, looking nervously about him. “Encouraging Dynasian to make pacts with King Kumuru of Samarna.”
	“Kumuru of Darkness, you mean. Everyone knows he worships the Dark Gods! What does Campora need with the likes of him?”
	The first soldier shrugged. “Kumuru has an army. Dynasian wants to join it to ours and conquer the world. It’s not our affair.”
	As they strolled past the spot where the three warriors were hidden, the second soldier, the man who liked unicorns, muttered, “Not our affair, no. Not our affair that to seal the alliance, Dynasian’s going to send half that pretty herd to Kumuru in the morning—for sacrifice!”
	As the soldiers disappeared beyond the stable wall, IIlyria straightened. “Sacrificing unicorns to the Dark Gods! I never imagined that even Dynasian would stoop so low!”
	“We’ve got to free them!” gasped Sheila.
	“What a pity you won’t succeed,” said a smooth, sly voice.
	As the warriors whirled in shock, a shadow seemed to move forward out of darkness. It wasn’t a shadow, Sheila realized after the first, startled moment. It was a man—tall, lean, handsome in a cold, harsh sort of way—clad in elegant, silky, black robes.
	His long hair and beard were black, too. And his eyes were as hard and cruel as ebony.
	“Mardock!” cried Myno.
	“Ah, I see you know me,” the sorcerer purred. “How flattering. Especially since I shall be the last person you see before you die!”
	With that, he raised his arms, the wide sleeves of his black robes fluttering like the wings of some terrible night creature.  
	Sheila stared in sheer disbelief as she saw blue lightning flash and crackle about him. But then she heard Mardock begin to murmur twisted, ugly, alien words. And though she couldn’t understand them, she knew that this was the beginning of a spell—a spell that would mean her death!


12) Trapped!

	The dark power of the building spell held the three women stunned and helpless.
	As though we’re stuck in glue!  thought Sheila. But even though she couldn’t move, she could still use her brain. Her mind raced wildly, trying to come up with some way to fight back. As soon as the spell was finished, it would be the end of the three of them, she knew it, but she couldn’t think of a thing. Already the air seemed so thick… It was so difficult just to breathe…
	No! I’m not going to give up! There’s got to be something I can do!
	“Uh . . . wait!” she called to the sorcerer. “You mustn’t do this!”
   	Cruel humor flickered in Mardock’s eyes. With a commanding wave of his hands, he held the growing force of magic in check. “Why not, little fool?”
	“Because-because. . .” Because why? Sheila hadn’t the vaguest idea of what she was going to say next. But she had better keep talking, because Mardock’s patience wasn’t going to last forever, “Because I—I have some magic, too.”
	“Do you?” mocked the sorcerer with a sneer.
	No, I—what I mean is that I’m a-a sort of an apprentice. Of science.”
	Mardock frowned at the unfamiliar word, puzzled. “Science?” he echoed warily.
	“Yes.” Sheila hurried on, “I-I work with Dr. Reit on things like the Molecular Acceleration Transport Device.”
	Mardock blinked, confused by what must have sounded to him like alien sorcery, indeed. “Small magics,” he said after a moment, but he was plainly bluffing. “My spell cannot be held in check much longer. What are you trying to say, girl?”
	“Well, I . . . I’ve seen Dr. Reit’s science. But your sorcery is the most amazing I’ve ever seen!” True enough, thought Sheila. After all, I’ve never seen any sorcery! “I-I might like to learn it, too.”
	“Indeed.”
	The cold black eyes stared at her as if trying to pierce right through her mind. Sheila desperately tried to keep her thoughts a blank. She had read a story somewhere about a man who kept someone from reading his mind by reciting the multiplication tables.
	Let’s see now . . . one times one equals one, two times two is four, three times three is . . . is . . . I can’t hold him off much longer! Three times three is- “Clever child!” said Mardock, and the terrible pressure vanished from her mind. “Oh, I could break you easily enough. But why bother? Besides, you just might make a cunning apprentice. Come here, girl.”
	“Uh, not-not yet. First let my friends go.”
	“So that’s the game, is it? Fool! The first thing a sorcerer learns is that he has no friends! Forget those two. Come to me and you shall live—but only if you watch them die!”
	Sheila swallowed, her throat dry, aware of Illyria and Myno staring proudly ahead. They weren’t going to beg.  She must make her own decision. If she went over to Mardock’s side, she would be safe. But . . . to see Illyria and Myno die...
	“No,” Sheila said, amazed at the steadiness of her voice. “Sorry, Mardock. I can’t do it. I’m not going to let them die.”
	“Then die with them, fool!”
	And he began the black chant anew. As Mardock’s evil magic flashed and crackled about him, Sheila’s thoughts circled and circled, and kept returning to: What do you fight darkness with? Light, of course, but—
	Light! Sheila gasped as the idea struck her.
Yes! I’ve got it!

	It was a slim chance, but it was the only chance they had. She began rummaging frantically through her backpack, her fingers feeling hopelessly clumsy and slow. Mardock was concentrating too hard to notice her movements.
	Where is the thing? Where is it?
	Out of the corner of her eye, Sheila saw Illyria fighting off the heaviness of the building magic, then with a groan of effort, draw her sword and lunge at the sorcerer. But before she could reach Mardock, she was thrown violently back against a wall, the weapon flying from her hand.
	“Now,” hissed the sorcerer, “you all die!”
	At that very moment Sheila’s hand closed about a familiar object. With a triumphant cry she pulled it out of her pack and flicked a switch-“Aagh!!” Mardock cried out in shock as the flashlight’s beam blazed right into his eyes! The blue lightning of his spell dissolved into nothingness as he staggered back clawing at his face, terrified of this new, alien magic.
	“Come on!” whispered Sheila. “Let’s get out of here!”
	She started backing warily away, holding the sorcerer transfixed by the beam of light. A little farther, now, and she could just turn and run.
	But suddenly the flashlight’s light flickered.
	Oh, no! thought Sheila. Not now! Please, not now!
	The light flickered on again. And then it went out. Sheila shook the flashlight. “Come on!” she cried. But nothing happened.
	“I knew I should have put in new batteries!” the girl wailed.
	The three women raced for their lives. Expecting at every moment to be struck down by some terrible sorcery, Sheila risked a quick glance back over her shoulder. Mardock, hand over his dazzled eyes, was in no condition to cast a spell. Yet. They just might make it—
	But the light and noise had attracted guards. Their bronze-studded armor clashed loudly as they hurried after the three warriors, swords flashing in the moonlight. But a cloud suddenly covered the moon, and all at once it was too dark to tell friend from foe.
	Sheila stifled a hysterical giggle as she heard one guard yelp and shout at another guard who had just accidentally jabbed him right in the backside. It really wasn’t funny, not when she realized the next wild swing of a sword might get her.
	“Don’t kill them, you fools!’ came Mardock’s angry shout. “Just stop them! Surround them!”
	Sheila bit her lip in terror. How were they going to get out of here? All around her were dimly moving shapes—where were Illyria and Myno?
	“Sheila!” It was Illyria’s tense whisper. “This wayl”
	The woman caught her hand, pulling her toward safety—Too late. In the confusion Myno made it to safety; but just at the wrong moment the moon came out from behind the cloud, pinning Sheila and Illyria in a silvery spot-light.
	“There they are!” someone shouted.
	Before they could move, the two warriors were surrounded by guards, a circle of deadly spearheads pointed straight at them.
	“Put down your swords,” said a grim voice.
	Illyria sighed. “One of the important lessons in becoming a warrior,” she told Sheila, as calmly as though they were alone, “is knowing when to surrender.”
	They were dragged through the streets of Campora, up a steep, winding hill. The houses on either side grew more elegant with every step, set back from the street, surrounded by high walls. Through ornate ironwork gates Sheila caught glimpses of tantalizing marble pavilions, magnificent gardens, and palaces. She wasn’t surprised that the most splendid palace of all stood on the very crest of the hill. It was a huge building. Buildings, really, thought Sheila, staring—a collection of them all joined together, each one built in a different style. Some had steep, peaked roofs covered in many-colored tiles, some had golden domes, and there were even a couple that seemed to consist mostly of columns. All the buildings were of gleaming white marble covered with bizarre, elegant carvings showered in gold.
	But this was no time for sightseeing. She and Illyria were pushed roughly forward through the front gates and down a long pathway lined with grim-faced statues and paved with slippery marble. At the end of the path a guard rapped three times on a huge bronze door. It swung silently open on well-oiled hinges; they entered a large room, bright with candlelight reflected off gold, silver, and gems that encrusted the interior. On a dais, at the far end of the room, a man lounged idly on a crimson and gold brocade sofa. He was wearing the ugliest, most wildly colored silk robes Sheila had ever seen. The guards led the warrior women toward him. When they were a foot from the dais, the guards forced Sheila and Illyria to their knees and stood with swords drawn all around.
	This must be Dynasian, Sheila realized with a shiver. The emperor sat upright slowly, studying his prisoners lazily through a small crystal lens on a golden chain. Despite the danger, Sheila felt disappointed.
	This was the terrible Dynasian? She had expected a tall, dark, majestically evil figure. Dynasian was rather short, and fat, and balding clutching his gaudy robes about him with a clumsy hand. His eyes were small and piggy, nearly lost in the folds of his pudgy face. But when those eyes met her gaze, Sheila knew fear as if for the first time. They were gray as ice, cold and hard, an	d absolutely without pity. Suddenly Dynasian wasn’t the least bit funny.
	“Mardock?” The emperor’s voice was high-pitched and nasal. “Why do you disturb me? Why have you brought these two dirty females to me?”
	Mardock moved smoothly to his master’s side, murmuring. Sheila caught the words unicorns, and thieves, and thought, Uh-oh.
	Dynasian’s face darkened.
	“So! You would try to steal my unicorns, would you?”
	“They aren’t your unicorns.” Illyria’s voice was calm. “They belong to no one.”
	“Impudent wench,” Dynasian spat.
	“You don’t understand. Haven’t you noticed the signs of dawning disaster on the land? The scanty rains? The diseases?”
	“Nonsense.”
	“It’s truth, Dynasian. The unicorns aren’t merely pretty beasts. They’re living symbols of Light. Let them wander free as they will, and Campora will prosper. Keep them prisoner, and this city and all your kingdom will die.”
	The emperor frowned. “Do you dare to lecture me, woman? The beasts are mine, and I shall do with them as I will!”
	“Sacrifice them, you mean? Dynasian, if you sacrifice the unicorns to the Dark Gods, you won’t be gaining something as simple as a military alliance!”
	“What do you mean?”
	“Sacrifice symbols of Light to the Dark Gods, and you open a path for them into Campora!” Illyria’s voice broke. “Oh, don’t you see? Dynasian, think! Kumuru’s Dark Gods are demons! You’ll be laying Campora open to evil beyond mortal comprehension!”
	“Enough!” The single word was sharp as the crack of a whip. The emperor looked Illyria and Sheila up and down through his crystal. “Skinny things.” His voice was as calm as though Illyria had never spoken. “Hardly worth the thought.” He gave a casual wave of his hand. “Take them away, Mardock. Throw them into prison.”
	The sorcerer murmured something in his master’s ear, and the fat man smiled coldly. “Why, yes. I agree. They will make fine participants in the games. Take them away!”
	How nice of them to give us a moonlight tour of Campora, thought Sheila dryly, staring up at a grim, dark, ugly building that looked like some crouching monster in the night.
	“Dynasian’s prison,” said Illyria shortly, and was slapped by one of the guards.
	“No talking!”
	“Gently,” purred Mardock. “Don’t hurt them. Yet.” Illyria and Sheila were forced down a dark, dank stairway, bare stone walls oozing moisture on either side. The sorcerer followed, picking his way delicately, holding his elegant black robes tightly around him to keep them from being soiled on the filthy steps. He watched, a smug smile on his saturnine face, as his prisoners were thrown into a smelly cell.
	“Foolish little would-be sorceress,” he sneered at Sheila, “and you, warrior-woman, do you see now how stupid it was to challenge my might?”
	“Your might?” taunted Illyria. “You are nothing more than Dynasian’s pet dog, sorcerer.”
	For a moment his eyes blazed with insulted rage. Don’t get him mad Sheila pleaded silently with Illyria. I don’t want to end up as a cockroach!
	But then the anger faded from Mardock’s eyes.
	“Did you think to enrage me enough to receive a swift death? Oh, no. You must wait your turn to die. Don’t worry,” he added mockingly. “You won’t be here for long. The games start tomorrow. And you haven’t a chance of winning. I shall see to that.”
	With that, he turned and swept out of the dungeon, followed by the guards. As Mardock’s footsteps faded away, Illyria and Sheila were left alone in the heavy silence. Sheila looked about and shivered. There was nothing in the cell but a pile of moldy, foul-smelling straw. The door was of heavy iron, locked and bolted. The one window was little more than a crack in the thick wall.  And the stray beam of moonlight that found its way into the cell only made it seem even more dark and damp.
	They were trapped.

13) The Ghost

	As soon as she was sure they were alone in the cell. And the jailor had wandered far enough away down the hall, Illyria sprang to her feet. As Sheila watched in bewilderment, the woman began going over every inch of their prison.
	“No one could get through that crack of a window,” she muttered. “No one in human form, that is.” Illyria stopped, giving Sheila a speculative glance. “I don’t suppose you know how to shape-shift?”
	Sheila shook her head. “Sorry.”
	Illyria sighed. “I thought that might be too advanced a spell for a mere apprentice. Oh, I don’t mean that as an insult! You just need a few more years of training, that’s all, with the master sorcerer, Dr. Reit.”
	“Dr. Reit,” murmured Sheila. All at once it hit her. They were trapped in this awful place. And tomorrow they were going to die! Sheila wrapped her arms tightly about herself, trying to hide her trembling, and bit her lip as hard as she could to keep from bursting into tears. She was never going to see Dr. Reit again, or her family and friends, or-
	“Don’t look so sad, Sheila! We’re not lost yet.” Illyria went back to searching the cell. “That was a brave thing you did back there, standing up to Mardock like that.” She hesitated. “You weren’t really thinking of joining him, were you?”
	“No!”
	“I thought not. After all, evil sorcerers have a tendency to sacrifice young apprentices who show too much ambition.”
	Sheila gulped. “I-I didn’t know that.”
	“Mm-hmm. Don’t want those apprentices getting too uppity, you see, making dangerous pacts with demons, threatening their master—but you wouldn’t know about things like that, since Dr. Reit’s magic is good, not evil.”
	“Well, it’s science, not sorcery, “ began Sheila, then hastily added, seeing Illyria raise an eyebrow, “but it’s good.”
	The woman nodded and calmly continued her search. “Stone walls . . . good mortar between the blocks stone floor . . . good mortar there, too. Too bad.”
	“I don’t understand.”
	Illyria gave her a quick, rueful grin. “If the mortar were old and crumbling, we could lift one up and dig our way out.”
	“Dig? With what? They disarmed us.”
	Illyria grinned again. “Not quite,” she said, and drew a thin little dagger from her boot. Letting the knife slide back into the hidden sheath, she shrugged. “It’s better than nothing. But, curse it all, the door’s solid, too, and well bolted. The hinges are on the outside, where we can’t get at them.”
	She sank to the floor beside Sheila, tapping an impatient finger on the stone. “What about you, girl? Do you think you could work some manner of spell to get us out of here?”
	“My-uh-magic backpack is out there with the guard,” Sheila reminded her sadly.
	“Ah.” Illyria let out her breath in a long sigh. “At least Myno got away. And the others are free, too. They’ll be able to help the unicorns. Even if we—Sheila, if it comes down to this, that we must enter the games, we still have a chance to help Campora, even if we die. Don’t flinch, girl. I know it’s a cruel choice for you to have to make, but hear me out.
	“If we do enter the games, Dynasian is going to have to give us some sort of weapons. When he does, I mean to leap up to Dynasian’s box and put an end to him. Do you think you can do the same to Mardock?”
	“I-I don’t know,” said Sheila frankly. “I’ll try.”
	“Brave girl! Then, even if we die, we die cleanly under the swords of the guards, knowing we’ve rid the land of two tyrants.  Agreed?”
	Sheila shuddered and nodded.
	Silence fell. Sheila thought about the games and shud­dered again. What if Illyria was wrong? What if she and Sheila couldn’t reach Dynasian? They would have to take part in the games. There wouldn’t be a choice. Would those games be anything like the ones she had read about in school, the ones the ancient Romans held? Was she going to have to fight trained warriors? Or beasts? Or…
	Mardock had promised she and Illyria wouldn’t survive. Did that mean they were going to have to face something worse?
	Something that Mardock might summon from the Darkness just for this purpose?
	“We aren’t going to get out of this, are we?” she asked Illyria faintly.
	“What’s this, girl? Fear? Hey now, I’ve been in worse places than this!”
	“How?” asked Sheila faintly.
	“Ha, once I was in a situation where I didn’t have a chance. Listen to this: I was climbing a mountain, looking for some lost sheep. Halfway up, it got really steep. I slipped and I slid, and I nearly fell all the long way down to my death. I was so high up that mountain that the clouds were below me. But the sheep were somewhere up above me, so up I went, watching each handhold carefully. All at once I heard this horrible roar above me and glanced up to see a Lyros—Do you know what that is? No? It’s a sort of mountain wolf, as big as a pony, with fangs as long as my arm. And it’s always, always hungry.
	“Well, this ravening lyros was standing right there on the ledge where I was just about to climb, just waiting for its dinner to come into its gaping jaws. And there I was, hanging on by one arm, wondering if I hadn’t better forget the whole thing and go back down. But then I heard a hideous roar from just below. I glanced down and there, on the ledge below me, was a huge, ugly, mean-as-a-winter-storm cave bear, taller than a man and hungrier than anything but a lyros.”
	Illyria paused reflectively. “Picture that. There I was, hanging from one arm from the side of a mountain. I couldn’t go up, because the lyros was waiting. I couldn’t go down, because the bear was in the way. Now, have you ever heard of a worse predicament?”
	“No!” Sheila waited eagerly for Ilyria to continue. But the woman merely set about sorting through the moldy straw.
	“Ah-Illyria?”
	“Smelly stuff. But some of it isn’t too filthy. At least it should be better than sleeping on bare stone.”
	“Illyria!”
	“Yes?”
	“The story! Finish the story How did you get out of that mess?”
	“Oh, I didn’t,” the woman said blandly. “The bear ate me.”
	Sheila stared at her for a moment, then burst helplessly into laughter.
	“That’s better,” Illyria said with a gentle smile. “Never give up, girl. Remember that. Now, come, let’s try to get some sleep.”
	Sleep! thought Sheila in amazement. How could I possibly ever fall asleep?
	But she obediently closed her eyes. She could at least rest, or try to rest.
	Even if she couldn’t sleep.
	Sleep ...
 

“Sheila…”

	Sheila frowned. Here she was, having such a lovely dream, all about riding Morning Star through a flowery meadow. Why was this ghostly voice trying to intrude?
	“Sheila . ..”
	Go away, she told it, leave me alone. “Sheila . . where are you . . .
	The voice wasn’t going to go away. In fact, it was getting stronger and stronger—Sheila came awake with a start, to find Illyria staring at her. “You hear it, too,” said the woman. “You mean, the voice is real? I wasn’t just dreaming?
	“And-and it wasn’t you calling me?” Illyria shook her head. “Then who ...?” began Sheila uneasily.
	“Sheila…” came the faint voice again. “Can you hear me?”
	The girl tensed. “Wait a minute,” she said slowly. “I know that voice . . . Dr. Reit! It sounds like Dr. Reit!”
	“The sorcerer!” gasped Illyria.
	“Can you hear me?” the voice repeated, more loudly this time.
	“Yes!” Sheila cried joyfully. “I do! Dr. Reit, I hear you, but I can’t see you.”
	There was a faint whirring sound, a crackling of electricity. Dr. Reit’s voice muttered something that sounded like “. . . turning up the voltage . . . wait . . . ahal”
	Illyria cried out in shock and shrank back against a wall, gasping, “Sorcery! High sorcery!”
	A figure, shimmering and ghostly, was forming in the cell . . . a man’s tall figure, dressed in a white laboratory apron and crowned by a mop of wild white hair. Sheila gave a soft laugh of relief.
	“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered to Illyria. “It’s Dr. Reit!”
	“Sheila?” The scientist ran a hand through his hair, staring about him in bewilderment. “Are you all right?”
	“Yes, yes, but-“
	“Where is this place?”
	“Shh! The guards will hear you!”
	“Guards?” Dr. Reit looked about once more. “Why, Sheila, what have you been doing? This seems to be some sort of prison        cell!”
	“That’s because it is a prison cell!” Sheila whispered. “Oh-don’t go!”
	“I’m trying not to go,” he said apologetically. “But the power surge I’ve been able to create just isn’t stable.” He sighed. “Look at this. It’s wavering all over again. I can’t seem to get enough of a charge stabilized to let me materialize fully, and . . Oh, dear. Here I go again. Wait a minute now. . . . Let me try . .”
	For an instant he disappeared completely. Sheila waited, chewing on her lower lip, hardly daring to breathe. He couldn’t just vanish, not now, not when she’d started to hope!
	There was a flicker of light, a faint crackling of electricity. And suddenly the ghostly figure of Dr. Reit was there in the cell with them once more. “I’m afraid the charge isn’t going to last much longer, no matter what I do. I’ll have to work on it some more. Quickly, now: Is there anything I can do?”
	“Yes!” Sheila whispered frantically. “Get us out of here!”
	“Oh, my dear girl, I wish I could! But the power surge is already starting to fade. . . . I don’t know how much longer I can hold it before…”
	His ghostly figure was starting to flicker and dissolve.
	“Dr. Reit!” cried Sheila. “Please, don’t leave us here!”
	In her misery she had forgotten all about whispering. “Hey, what’s all the fuss?” came the jailor’s rough voice.
	And a sudden idea struck Sheila. “Help!” she screamed. “This-this cell is haunted!”
	“Now, what sorta garbage are you trying to-“
	“Come here! Look for yourself!”
	The man peered into the cell, and his dirty face paled. He gasped in honor at the sight of Dr. Reit’s slowly dissolving, shimmery, eerie figure. “Gods! You-you’re right! I’m not hangin’ around here!”
	“Hey! You can’t just run away!”
	“No, no. I’m gonna go get help.”
	“No! Wait!” If he ran off now, she and Illyria might never have another chance. “You can’t leave us here!”
	“That’s right,” cut in Illyria. “Mardock will be furious if something happens to us. Do you want to be the one to tell him his precious prisoners were slain by a ghost?”
	He hesitated, shaking. “Don’t want a sorcerer mad at me,” the man muttered, “not Mardock. The way he looks at you with those cold eyes, like he’s figurin’ which demons would like to eat you . . . Gods! He’s worse than any ghost!”
	Just then the last shimmer of Dr. Reit’s figure winked out, trailing a haunting cry of: “I’ll be back, Sheila, I promise!”
	“You heard him!” Sheila cried to the jailor. Wait a minute! Dr. Reit had been speaking English, of course, and the jailer couldn’t have understood him. The girl translated hastily, “He said he’s coming back for me! Hurry! Get us out of here before it’s too late!”
	“Yeah.” The jailer fumbled with his keys, dropping them, mixing them up. “Right. Here we go. No tricks now!”
	“Of course not,” said Sheila innocently. She stepped meekly out of the cell, then froze, eyes wide, staring down the corridor. “Oh, no! Look! The-the ghost!”
	The man whirled with a cry of terror. And Illyria calmly hit him on the back of the head with her clenched fists. As he fell limply to the floor, the woman and Sheila exchanged a fierce grin. Together they dragged the unconscious jailer into the cell and locked the door. “Come on!” Illyria whispered. “Let’s get out of here before someone notices he’s missing.”
	Sheila scooped up her backpack and hastily shouldered it, then followed Illyria warily up the narrow stairway. The moon had set, and. it was so dark in the dungeon that they had to carefully feel their way up every stair.
	What if someone’s at the top? What if Mardock’s just waiting for us and—No! I’m not going to start scaring myself!
	Just the same, she was glad when they reached a level floor once more. There was some light here, from flickering torches, and Sheila starred forward, only to be dragged aside by Illyria.
	“What-“
	Illyria held a finger to her lips and pointed. There, in a small antechamber, amid a pile of other weapons, lay their swords.
	“But there are two guards in there!” whispered Sheila.
	They were seated at a small table, engrossed in a hot game of cards, but there was something about their hard-eyed faces that made the girl suspect they would leap to their feet, spears ready, at the first move she or Illyria made.
	“I don’t suppose you just want to forget about the swords?” asked Sheila hopefully.
	“No! We’ll need them.”
	“Yes, but-“
	“Hush. Listen.”
	Hurriedly, Illyria whispered a plan in Sheila’s ear, And after a moment Sheila grinned.
	Wait till I tell Cookie about this, thought Sheila.
	She moved forward so that the guards could see her. Neither one so much as glanced in her direction.
	“Ahem.”
	No reaction.
	“I said: Ahem!”
	Both guards jumped. The cards went flying as the men snatched for their weapons, staring up in surprise.
	“A girl!”
	 “Help me,” Sheila wailed piteously. “Oh, please, help me….”
	“What are you doing here?” asked one man roughly.
	“Please . . .” she repeated faintly, swaying gracefully. ‘Help me—“
	“Hey, that’s one of Mardock’s prisoners!” cried the other guard. “How did she—Get her!”
	Quickly Sheila gave a melodramatic groan, raised her hand to her head, and crumpled slowly to the floor. Peeking from under     her lashes, she saw the guards hesitate uncertain. She heard one of them mutter, “Well, we can’t just leave her lying there!” He came out to kneel at her side . . . and Illyria sprang into action. With one catlike pounce, she struck down the other guard with two quick blows to stomach and head. As the first guard got to his feet, whirling, Illyria was on him, too, knocking him out before he could even yell. As he crumpled, Sheila hurriedly helped Illyria cushion his fall so that his armor didn’t clash loudly against the stone floor.
	“That was great!” Sheila whispered. “Nobody could have heard a thing.”
	The two warriors snatched up their swords and buckled on the swordbelts.
	“That’s better,” said Illyria. “Now, let’s get out of this place before someone thinks to sound an alarm!”
	The corridor they were following fed out into the main hallway, a vast torch lit stone room off of which other prison corridors branched. At the far end of the room was the heavy, barred door that led out of the prison. 
	Sheila sighed. As the saying goes: So near and yet so far!
	Between them and freedom was a whole troop of guards. They were all fully armed. But half of them were lounging about lazily, and the other half were nearly asleep.
	“Lax discipline,” murmured Illyria in mock horror.
	“Sure, but we’re still not going to be able to slip past them,” whispered Sheila. “And we can’t get to the door unless we do.
	Unless . .
	Off to one side was a window, a plain, unbarred window. She pointed at it, and Illyria nodded.
	“Yes,” she whispered. “That opens onto the outside world. But what about the soldiers?”
	Sheila began rummaging around in her backpack. “Ah, here it is! I almost forgot I had this.”
	“More sorcery?”
	“Well, no. Actually, it’s Cookie’s little traveling alarm clock, the one she was using till she got her watch fixed.” She realized that Illyria was staring at her blankly, but there wasn’t time to explain. “I hate to lose it, but—here goes!”
	Sheila tiptoed into another corridor, praying one of the guards wouldn’t happen to look over his shoulder and see her, set the little alarm clock carefully, and snuck back to Illyria’s side.
“It should go off in about ten seconds . . .” she whis­pered, nine . . eight . . . seven
	Just then the alarm went off, the shrill ringing echoing off the stone walls. The guards erupted into chaos, scrambling to their feet, grabbing for weapons, yelling in con­fusion. Sheila froze, shaken at how she had mistimed the alarm, realizing how close she had come to getting caught. Illyria grabbed her arm and nearly dragged her toward the window. Sheila shook off her fear and quickly scrambled through it.
	For a moment she hung by her arms, afraid to let go. How far was it to the ground? The moon had set, and the dawn wasn’t here yet, and the night was dark!
	“Sheila!” hissed Illyria frantically. Sheila gulped and jumped blindly.
	To her relief, it wasn’t a long drop. She hit the ground, rolled, and got her feet under her.
	“Come on!” she whispered up at Illyria. The woman leaped lightly down beside her.
	“We still have to get over the outer wall,” Illyria whispered. “But if we can’t see any guards, they can’t see us, either. Let’s go.”
	Sheila found the wall first the hard way by running right into it in the darkness.
	“It’s too high!” she whispered in panic. “I can’t find the top!”
	“I’ll help you. Ready . . . jump!”
	With Illyria giving her a boost, Sheila jumped with all her might. Her hands closed over the top of the wall, and she pulled herself up on top of it, panting. She heard Illyria struggle up beside her.
	It was only moments until the two warriors were let­ting themselves down on the far side of the prison wall, free again:
	“We-we did it!” gasped Sheila.
	“And it’s about time, too!” said a voice suddenly.
 

14) Outnumbered

	Sheila grabbed frantically for her flashlight. If only there was a little strength left in the batteries…

	It flickered on for an instant, then died again. But that brief flash of light was just enough for the two warriors to see:
	“Myno! You’re all right!”
	“Of course I am,” she said gruffly. “Takes more than a few stupid soldiers to put an end to me. No need to get emotional about it.”
	But she gave Sheila and Illyria a quick, fierce hug. “Let’s get out of here. This neighborhood isn’t going to be safe much longer.”
	They followed her in silence, stumbling in the darkness, through a tangle of narrow, foul-smelling alleyways. Once Sheila saw red eyes flash and heard small bodies scurry away. Rats, she told herself, only a bunch of scared rats. She didn’t blame them for being scared. It was spooky here, in all this close, smelly darkness.
	Myno and Illyria, apparently unafraid, were moving on.
	“Hey, wait for me!” Sheila whispered.
	Terrified that she would be left behind, she hurried after their forms, slipping and falling into a puddle of what she hoped was only water.
	“Oh, ugh!”
	However prettily Campora might shine in the sunlight, Sheila thought wryly, Dynasian had a thing or two to learn about some matters. Such as drains!
	The two women ahead of her stopped, so suddenly that Sheila, in her rush to keep up, nearly crashed into them.
	“Here we are,” whispered Myno in triumph. “The main wall isn’t too far from here, and we should be able to slip out without     any-“Wait, Myno.” Illyria’s voice was grim. “We came to Campora for a purpose. I’m not leaving just yet.”
	“But Dynasian’s whole army is going to be out looking for you!”
	“Campora is a big maze of a city. They won’t find us that quickly. And in the meantime . . . Myno, take us down to the harbor.”
	“Oh, come now, Illyria! You can’t be expecting us to rescue the unicorns all by ourselves!”
	“What choice have we?” asked Illyria quietly. “If we do nothing, the unicorns are as good as dead, and the Dark Gods will rise. We can, at least, try to prevent that.”
	Myno sighed. “I’ve been following you all these months. I’ve seen you risk your neck maybe a hundred times. But this has got to be the most harebrained stunt you’ve ever-“
	“Do you want to leave?” 
	“Hey, no, I never said that! It’s just . . . I mean…”
	Myno muttered something hot-tempered under her breath. “I guess I’m just as harebrained as you two,” she said reluctantly. “But I don’t like the idea of the unicorns being slaughtered, either. So be it. Come on. Follow me.”
	Myno seemed to know every alley, every passage, every hole in the wall in all of Campora. Sheila and Illyria struggled on in her wake as best they could.
	At least the night’s not so dark anymore, thought Sheila hopefully. It must be nearly morning.
	Wait a minute. If it was nearly morning, that meant they didn’t have much time left to save the unicorns!
	Suddenly a shrill blare of trumpets split the silence.
	“That’s got to be the prison alarm!” gasped Sheila. “They know we’ve escaped!”
	“They’ll never find us.” Myno sounded as calm as could be. “We’re nearly at the harbor already, and-“
	“By all the gods!” gasped Illyria. “Look at that!”
	At first glance Sheila thought it was just a troupe of entertainers, clad in so many wild rags that the phrase “raggle-taggle-gypsies-o” flashed through her mind. With them were their horses-No! Those were unicorns-No. Those were only horses, with silly, handmade cones tied onto their foreheads to make them look like unicorns, and-Wait a minute! That handsome boy who was grinning at her ...
	“Illyria! That’s Darian, and-and Pelu, and all the rest!” Sheila’s heart was pounding! She was a little surprised to see how glad she was to see Darian. Illyria was already hurrying forward.
	“Sheila!” crowed Darian joyfully. “Where did-“
	“What are you doing here?” Illyria interrupted. “What are any of you doing here? I gave you an order-“
	“We know,” said Pelu gently. “But when you hear what happened, I think you’ll understand.”
	Sheila looked around nervously, half expecting to see armed guards rushing toward them. “I’m sure it’s going to be a fascinating story. But couldn’t we find a safer place to talk?”
	“Ah. Those alarm trumpets we heard were for you.”
	“They were,” Myno said shortly.  Pelu glanced back at Darian and Dian and the rest of her wildly colorful companions, and grinned. “What better place to hide someone than right in the most conspicuous of places?” She handed Sheila, Illyria, and Myno three ragged, many-colored cloaks. “There, now you look like proper members of the Marvelous Magical Unicorn Troupe!”
	“Pelu.” Illyria’s voice held a note of warning in it. “Your story?”
		“Well, we were dividing our troop up, as you’d ordered, when suddenly it happened . . .” and PeIu explained how the eagles had forced them to change their plans.
	“We got these rags from a good-natured merchant for whom we performed last night, outside the city gates.” Dian explained.
	Darian added with a hint of wounded pride, “We thought we were performing a drama. He thought we were doing a comedy! So much for our dreams of acting glory! At any rate, as soon as the gates were opened just before dawn, we came in with everyone else.”
	Illyria gave a soft laugh. “Now, that is a truly amazing story! If we all get out of this alive, I do think we had better do some investigating of certain more-than-mere-birds eagles.” She glanced up at the rapidly brightening sky. “But we haven’t got much time to waste.”
	Quickly she told the others of Dynasian’s plans to send the captive unicorn herd to King Kumuru for sacrifice. As she finished her tale, there were gasps of horror from her listeners.
	“How dare he!”
	“Sacrifice unicorns to the Dark Gods—never!”
	“We can’t let Dynasian get away with that!” cried Darian.
	“And we won’t.” Illyria’s voice was strong with determination. “Dynasian will surely have his men begin loading the unicorns aboard ship just about now... .” She paused, smiling. “Perhaps we ought to let him finish the job.”
	“What!” burst out Myno. “You mean, we came all this way just to let that tyrant’s men up and sail away with-“
	“Did I say that?” asked Illyria. “But tell me this: Have any of you had a chance to actually see the ship?”
	Darian nodded. “It’s a big old thing, with oars and sails. Big enough to hold all the unicorns, I guess, with room left over.”
	Illyria nodded thoughtfully. “Nanine, you once told me you knew how to sail,”
	The princess nodded. “My land touches the sea, you know. And even those of royal blood are taught to master the way of ships and sails.” She added dryly, “Even those who have the misfortune to have been born female.”
	“I see.” Illyria turned to her brother. “Darian, I have a task for you. It . . . may be dangerous.”
	The boy straightened proudly. “I’m not afraid! What is it? Do you want me to fight somebody? Challenge the guards and-“
	“I want you to take our unicorn friends here down to the dock where the others are being loaded.”
	His face fell. “That’s all?”
	“That’s enough! You’re going to have to convince the guards that you found these unicorns wandering in the city, and brought them to the ship out of loyalty to the emperor.” She glanced severely at her brother. “Nothing more than that. No heroics, is that understood?”
	“Yes, sure, but . . . do you really want Quiet Storm and all the rest on that ship?”
“I do,” said Illyria, smiling faintly. “I do, indeed. My friends, I must say I’m glad you’re here. Now let’s go save those unicorns!”
	The others cheered.
	“Fine,” muttered Myno. “Instead of three fools rushing off to disaster, we’ve got seven!”
Only Sheila overheard her. But she was glad to see that Myno, for all her complaining, moved just as eagerly as everybody else.
	The ship on which the captive unicorns were to sail was a huge thing, just as Darian had said, a wide-beamed cargo ship with two banks of oars, a curving prow and stern, and two masts with a confusing amount of sail. It rocked serenely at its dock, while on that dock and the land from which it jutted, all was utter chaos.
	The narrow streets rang with noise: the sharp cracking of whips, the cloppings of hoofs against cobblestones, equine screams of fear and anger, and shouts and curses from Dynasian’s guards. The guards had taken over that comer of the city, blocking common folk, sailors, and merchants from the plain, whitewashed stone shops and taverns Even so, the streets were crowded, what with guards and home handlers—and the emperor’s captive unicorns.
	None of the guards realized that they were being watched. Illyria and her warriors had moved silently over the rooftops, unnoticed by anybody at that early hour, and were slipping softly down to hide in the shadow of a large stone warehouse.
	“All right,” whispered Dian eagerly. “We made it. We’ve got a ringside seat. Are we just going to sit here and watch?”
	“Yes,” said Illyria shortly.
	“But-“
	“Hush, now. Use your eyes. There are just too many enemies out there right now. We can’t Just boldly attack, not seven against an army.”
	“Now you’re talking sense!” muttered Myno.
	“But we’re not giving up, either. If we can’t attack, we’ll use stealth, instead.”
	“Sure, but how?”
	“Shh. Here comes Darian and our unicorns.”
	The warriors watched in tense silence as Darian, the very image of brash youth, sauntered over to the guard who seemed to be overseeing the ship. They couldn’t hear everything that was said, but words drifted back to them:
	“Guess your men let these unicorns loose.”
	The guard muttered something angrily.
	“They didn’t?” continued Darian blithely. “You mean it was an accident?” He grinned. “An accident like maybe too much drinking last night?”
	Illyria winced. “Don’t improvise, Darian,” she muttered under her breath. “Just give him the unicorns and get out of there before he thinks to ask how you’re controlling seven unbridled animals!”
	Darian did his own wincing as the guard yelled at him. “Okay, okay,” the boy said soothingly, “I get it. No drinking while on duty.  The unicorns just got out by themselves.” He shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it, fine. Hey, don’t get mad at me! I wasn’t the one who let them out! Anyhow, here they are, all ready for loading. Long live the emperor and all that.”
	The unicorns weren’t at all happy about being loaded brusquely onto something as unfamiliar as a ship. Quiet Storm rolled an eye back to where Illyria was hiding, as though asking, You don’t really mean this, do you? But they obeyed, and soon were aboard.
	“Now, get out of there, Darian!” murmured Illyria.
	But no. He was lingering, plainly asking for a reward.
	That was too much for the irate guard. He snapped out an order. And then Darian was running for his life as soldiers chased him away. The women waited nervously until at last he managed to elude the men and slip back to join his sister.
	“How was that?” he asked, panting and proud.
	“Not bad,” Illyria said dryly, frowning. Her brother’s clever antics hadn’t amused her at all. “Now all we have to do is wait till the other unicorns are on board, then create some sort of diversion  . . something to get the guards away from the ship.
	Sheila straightened. “I think I’ve got just the thing!”
	Hastily she whispered her idea to Illyria. “Beautiful, Sheila!” Illyria scanned the area with her sharp eyes. “Yes . . . Do you think you can slip over to that building, the one close to the loading dock, just around that bend in the street? More important, do you think you can get back to us in time without getting caught?”
	Sheila hesitated, heart racing. The last thing she wanted was to wind up back in that dark prison! She could feel Dian’s unfriendly gaze on her and realized that the girl expected her to fail. But she couldn’t fail. Right now she was the only one who could help the unicorns. “Yes,” Sheila said firmly.
	Illyria clasped her hand briefly. “Then go, now, before any of the guards chance to look this way. When you get there, wait for my signal.”
	Sheila took a deep breath and summoned all her courage. Then she was off, trying to run down the narrow street without making a sound. The cobblestones were slippery and uneven, and she was sure she was going to fall with a crash that would alert all the guards. Somehow she managed to keep her footing, and reached the house Illyria had indicated without any problems. Quickly, remembering one of the warrior’s lessons she had been taught, Sheila checked for an escape route.
	Yes. She could swing herself up on that balcony easily enough, scramble along the roof, and jump down again to regain the others.
	Sheila waved to Illyria to show she was all right, then settled down to do the only thing she could right now: wait and watch.
	There was a lot to see.
	The unicorns weren’t making it easy for the guards, not at all. Unlike Quiet Storm and the others, they didn’t know that this was all part of a plan to save them. And so they fought every step of the way, terrified and furious determined not to let themselves be led by these two-legged foes. But the sweating, swearing, equally furious men fought back, dragging them forward, foot by reluctant foot, pulling the ropes tight around the graceful necks and bodies.
The unicorns refused to yield. Sleek white or brown or chestnut coats were wet and shining with the sweat of fear. Small ears were pinned flat back against lovely heads, and eyes rolled wildly. Now and again a unicorn, screaming in rage, would try to lunge, threatening a guard with horn or teeth. But each time the ropes would drag him back again.
	Oh, the poor things! Thought Sheila, remembering Morning Star running with the sheer joy of freedom. I wish I could tell them it’s going to be all right!
	The unicorns weren’t completely defenseless. As the girl watched, wide-eyed, two of the guards yelped in pain and fell aside, swearing because sharp unicorn hoofs had kicked out and connected. For a second the other guards hesitated, startled at the thought that they, too, might get hurt.
	But the men’s fear of Dynasian’s wrath was far greater than their fear of being kicked. And the slow, struggling procession continued, coming closer and closer to the waiting ship.
	When the first of the unicorns stepped out into the dock, and felt the hollowness under their hoofs, they stopped short, rearing in terror. The unicorns behind them screamed in sympathy and began fighting the ropes with all their strength. Guards were hurled off their feet, falling to the cobbles and wriggling frantically out of the way of flying hoofs. Some of those on the dock lost their footing on the wet, slippery wood and went plunging, splashing and cursing, into the sea.
	“More men!” shouted the guards. “Get more men up here! Hurry!”
	One by one they finally got the unicorns onto the ship and down into the storage area. Sheila, watching keenly, saw Illyria’s hand rise and suddenly drop. The signal!
	Okay, here we go!
	She pressed a button. All at once the air was split by Michael Jackson singing “Beat It” at the tape player’s full volume. Just as Sheila had hoped, the blaring music echoed off the walls. The twisted alleys and streets were like an echo chamber, bouncing the music back and forth along the narrow streets till it didn’t even sound like music anymore. It sounded just like the shouts of a whole mob of angry people!
	For a moment the guards froze in sheer shock. Then someone cried out, “We’re being attacked!” And they all erupted into wild movement, swords out, spears at the ready, searching this way and that.
	They can’t tell where the music’s coming from! Sheila realized.
	But the guards’ leader was barking out angry commands, and the men were splitting up into companies, each group starting grimly down a different street. One company was headed straight toward Sheila.
	Uh-oh. Time to leave!
	She climbed up to the roof as she had planned, ran to the end of it, and jumped down to rejoin the warrior-women.
	“Well done, Sheila!” whispered Illyria. “But your magic trick isn’t going to fool them for very long.”
	“They’ve left only a few men on board,” said Pelu. “Just as we hoped! All we have to do is reach the gangplank without attracting any attention.
“Sure!” cut in Darian. “Then we can rush the ship and overpower them before they can fight back.”
	Nanine nodded. “The wind’s in our favor. We should be able to cast off and sail safely out to sea before anyone can stop us.”
	Illyria grinned. “Come on. We have a ship to catch!”
	It should have worked. It nearly did work. But just as the women were about to make their rush up the gang­plank, there was a
crash and a blinding flash of light behind them.
	Sheila whirled, blinking to clear her dazzled sight. “Mardock!” she gasped. “He’s found us! And-and he’s got a whole army of guards with him!”
 
	Even as Sheila shouted a warning, Kara drew her bow and loosed an arrow straight at Mardock. But the sorcerer merely raised his hand, murmured a word-and the arrow dissolved in a burst of flame!
	“Oh. Well, it was worth a try,” the archer muttered.
	“Take them!” Mardock shouted to the soldiers. “Alive—or dead!”
	With savage shouts the men charged. Quickly the warrior-women formed a circle, protecting their backs, and drew their swords.  Blades flashed in an intricate dance, catching the enemy weapons, piercing leather armor and flesh.
	Sheila, caught in the middle of all the noise and dust and danger, suddenly found herself facing a fiercely snarling soldier. She stared in shock as he loomed over her like a giant, his sword raised. As the heavy blade came plunging down at her, Sheila parried desperately, feeling the impact surge painfully all the way up her arm to the shoulder. She staggered back a step, and the man gave a cruel laugh as he brought his sword up again. And this time Sheila didn’t have room to parry! Instead, she did the only thing she could: she kicked out with all her strength. The            guard yelped as her foot connected with his shin, and A laughing voice in her ear said:
	“You’re getting good at kicking people, aren’t you?”
	“Darian!”
	“At your service, my lady!”
	Quickly he moved forward to block the furious guard’s attack. Even in the middle of danger, Sheila couldn’t help but watch in wonder as Darian, graceful as a dancer, laughing as he fought, beat back his foe. There, the guard was falling back, clutching a wounded arm. But there wasn’t any time for hero-worship, because now other foes were pushing forward to take the guard’s place.
	What about Mardock? Sheila wondered in sudden terror. Why isn’t he just wiping us all out with sorcery?
	She could see Mardock dancing angrily about behind the guards. Of course! He couldn’t use his sorcery in such close quarters, because if he did, the force of it would destroy Dynasian’s guards as well!
	It didn’t really matter. More and more of those guards were rushing forward. The unicorns, deep within the ship, hearing the sounds of battle, began screaming in alarm and fury, but they were trapped on board, helpless to come to the warriors’ defense, Kara’s arrows flew, each one striking down a foe, but all too soon her quiver was empty.
	There are just too many enemies! thought Sheila in despair. We haven’t got a chance!
	Was she going to die here, with the morning sun shining down so brightly and the sky so blue? Was she going to die so far from home?
	Suddenly a cloud seemed to pass overhead. Sheila glanced wildly up—and gasped.
	“The eagles! The eagles are here!”
	As the guards fell back in superstitious wonder, the huge birds came plummeting down to land beside the warrior-women. Their forms blurred and altered, faster than thought.
 	Suddenly they were eagles no longer, but men, tall, stalwart warriors, led by a handsome, fierce-eyed young man whose red cloak blazed in the sunlight. His armor gleamed with gold, and a thin golden circlet held back his long dark hair.
	“Egael!” gasped Illyria in wonder.
	Egael! thought Sheila. That’s the name of the man lllyria loves. Gosh, he’s gorgeous!
	Dynasian’s guards, stunned by the sudden transformation, had fallen back, staring.
	“Go on!” Mardock prodded. “Fight them, you fools!”
	Reluctantly the guards raised their swords. But this time they were facing more than one small band of seven. This time they found themselves confronted by grim, skillful warriors who fought as swiftly with swords and daggers as they had flown as eagles.
	“Don’t stop!” yelled the sorcerer. “They’re only men, they can be slain! Fight them, curse you, fight them!”
	I’ve had just about enough of you! thought Sheila. Falling back for a moment behind the other warriors, she fumbled about in her backpack and pulled out her now-useless flashlight. She tried the switch one last time, then shrugged. Somehow I doubt I’ll be able to buy any new batteries in this world. So…
	She drew back her arm and threw the flashlight with all her strength, as hard as though she were hurling the softball to the plate with a runner on third trying to steal home.
And she caught Mardock off guard! Before he could defend himself, the flashlight bonked the sorcerer hard, right on the forehead! Mardock staggered back, stunned, and there was a murmur of horror from the guards.
	“Magic  . . eagles turning into men . . and now a mere girl strikes down a master sorcerer . . . Let Mardock handle all this! We’ll have none of it!”
	As one, the guards turned and fled, leaving the warrior-women and the eagle-men triumphant!
	“Oh, Sheila, that was wonderful!” said Illyria with a laugh. “Hurry, everybody! On board! We’ve got to set sail before Mardock recovers and the guards rally!”
	They raced up the gangplank, pulling it up with them. Behind, Mardock was staggering to his feet, muttering, trying to get his scattered senses gathered enough so he could work a spell. For a moment blue-white bolts of magic swirled about him. Then the bright cracklings sputtered and fizzled, and Mardock swore in frustration.
	“Cast off!” commanded Nanine. “You, eagle-men, do any of you know how to sail?”
	“We all do,” Egael told her, then, to his men, “Man the sails!”
	Dynasian’s guards had recovered their courage. Spears and arrows came clattering onto the deck. “Ammunition,” murmured Kara calmly, and went about gathering the arrows up, refilling her quiver. Sheila, peering warily over the side of the ship, gasped.
	“They’ve got boarding ladders! Oh, please, hurry, get us out of here!”
	Just as the ladders fell with solid thunks against the ship’s side, and guards began to swarm up, the sails caught the wind. The ship strained like a horse eager to run. But one last rope bound it to the dock. Illyria leaned boldly over the edge of the ship, ignoring arrows whizzing about her, and slashed at the thick rope with her sword. Once, twice, three times—The rope parted with a snap. The ship darted sharply away from the dock, and Nanine and Pelu grabbed at IIlyria, pulling her back onto the deck just in time.
	“Thanks!” she gasped.
	A series of loud splashes sounded behind them.
	“That,” said Myno, “must be the ladders falling into the water. Ah, and listen to those curses!” she added mildly. “That must be the guards falling into the water with them!”
	Far behind them they could hear angry shouts. A bolt of lightning blazed out from the land, flashing right toward the ship.
	Sheila drew in her breath in horror. Mardock’s sorcery was going to destroy them.
	But long before it reached the ship, the bolt arched down to hiss harmlessly out into the ocean.
	“Silly way to catch fish, isn’t it?” asked Myno with a grin. “Looks like we’re out of range.”
	And the ship sailed serenely out into the open sea, leaving the helplessly raging sorcerer and the guards far behind. Sheila hung over the rail, watching Campora growing smaller and smaller in the distance, and smiled.
	“And so,” she said with a sweep of her arm, imitating the syrupy voice of a travelogue narrator she had once heard on television, “we bid a fond farewell to beautiful, peaceful Campora, the gem of the empire.”
	It was night on the open sea. There wasn’t a sound save for the gentle slapping of water against the sides of the ship and the creaking of the rigging. Sheila leaned on the rail, bathed in moonlight, peacefully watching the silver light ripple on the gentle waves.
	“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
	Darian had come silently forward to lean on the rail beside her. He looked very handsome in the moonlight. “Uh… yes,” agreed Sheila She suddenly felt very nervous, and for a moment she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I was afraid Dynasian was	going to send warships after us. But it looks like our escape caught his navy off guard.”
	Darian grinned. “That’s what happens when you’ve got a commander like Dynasian, I guess, someone who’s so interested in his own pleasures he’s gotten lazy.”
	“Where are we sailing?”
	“South. There are rumors of rebel activities going on somewhere down there. If we can join up with these rebels, we’ll have us some important allies. But . . . let’s not talk about war and politics, not now. Okay?”
	“Okay.”
	Silence fell. Then Darian said shyly, “Uh, Sheila .
	He was looking right at her, the moonlight bright in his eyes. Sheila felt her heart skip a beat. “Yes, Darian?”
	“You . . . were very brave in the battle today.”
	“Oh. So were you.”
 	They were silent once more, But Sheila thought sud­denly, Why, he’s as nervous as I am! and smiled to herself.
	“Darian? Did-did you want to ask me anything?”
	“I just wanted to say . . . Sheila, I’ve never met any girl like you. And I hope we can get a chance to-to-“
	“Darian!” snapped a sudden voice.
	Sheila jumped. Then she saw who had spoken, and sighed. “Hello, Dian.”
	The girl ignored her completely. “Darian, you promised to help me groom the unicorns!”
	Darian sighed, too. “I did. Sheila, I’m sorry. Will you excuse me?”
	“Go on.”
	Left alone at the rail, Sheila yawned and stretched her stiff muscles. It felt funny, not having anything to do after all the excitement of the day.
	But I’m not complaining, really I’m not!
	The ship, according to Nanine, wallowed like an old cow. It was too-what had she called it?-too broad of beam to cut through the water gracefully. But between Nanine’s knowledge and the skill of those mysterious eagle-men, it was sailing smoothly under full canvas.
	The unicorns weren’t very happy about being stuck aboard a ship. Sheila had spent a long time trying to soothe Morning Star and the others. But at least they were finally tolerating the indignity of being cooped up in tight quarters.
	And as soon as we’re far enough from Campora, we’ll be letting them go again.
	She sighed, leaning on the rail again, resting her chin on her hands, wondering. Who were those eagle-men, anyhow? Maybe they could do something as amazing as turn into eagles, but they certainly didn’t look very happy about it. They all had such sad, sad eyes. And their leader, Egael . . . he really was wonderful. Sheila couldn’t blame Illyria at all for falling in love with him.
	But—who is he?
	Quiet voices caught her attention. She turned. There up on the raised platform of the stern stood Illyria and Egael, his red cloak whipping about them in the wind.
	Sheila hesitated, wondering if she was eavesdropping. Maybe she should just steal quietly away to the bow of the ship, where the other women were settling down for the night. But Egael’s voice was so clear that she couldn’t help but overhear.
	“…and so I had to leave you,” he was saying.
	“Why?”
	The man paused, looking out over the ocean as though trying desperately to make up his mind about something.
	He turned to stare intently into Illyria’s eyes. “Forgive me for not telling you the truth about myself from the beginning.  You must understand, I-I didn’t trust you- 
	“What?”
	“Not at first, anyhow.” Egael sighed. “I had just been beaten by Dynasian’s men. They had thought me only a fool of a beggar.  But if they had known my true identity, I would have died, or been carried off in chains to Campora.
	“But-“
	“Illyria, love, for all I knew you might have been loyal to Dynasian.”
	“Never that!”
	“Well, I didn’t know. But then, once I . . . realized I loved you… how could I tell you the truth? I didn’t want to hurt you.”
	“I’m not a silly little girl,” said Illyria dryly.
	The man bowed. “Indeed you are not. So. Love, my name isn’t Egael. It’s Laric, Prince of Perian. My father died fighting Dynasian’s troops. When I and my own men tried to fight on, we were captured. And Mardock placed a terrible curse on us all.
	“We must roam the sky as eagles, never able to transform to our rightful human shapes save for the five days and nights of the full moon.” He glanced up at the radiant sky. “I’m only thankful the timing was tight for me and my men to help you.”
	“Then that flock of giant eagles that seemed to follow us . . . that was you.”
	He nodded. “It was the only way I could be close to you.”
	“But isn’t there any way to break the spell?”
	“There must be! Illyria, right now my land and my poor people lie under Dynasian’s tyranny, and I-I can do nothing to help them. But I have sworn an oath: I will force Mardock to lift his curse! And I will win back my throne and free my people!”
	Prince Laric looked so noble and splendid there in the moonlight, his eyes blazing with determination, that Sheila shivered. But then he slumped.
	“Till that day,” he added sadly, “my men and I must take to the sky as eagles every time the phase of the full moon passes. Soon I must leave you again. But I will return to you, I promise.”
	“And I, my love, shall be waiting.”
	Prince Laric swept Illyria into his arms. As their lips met in a passionate kiss, Sheila sighed. The romance of it all!
	Quietly she slipped away and settled down beside the other women, wrapping herself in her cloak. But for a long time she couldn’t sleep. She lay staring up at the moon, thinking of all that had happened to her since that day—how long ago?—that she had first fallen into this world.   Would she ever get out of it? Sheila sighed, homesick again. Would she ever see her family and friends again?
	And yet . . . Sheila realized she wasn’t quite ready to go home, not yet. Dynasian still ruled. Half the unicorns were still captive. And-and poor Laric and Illyria couldn’t live happily ever after, not till Mardock’s cruel spell was lifted.
	I don’t want to go home, not till I find out how this all comes out!
	At least she knew one thing for sure: tomorrow would bring new and wondrous adventures. Smiling, rocked by the gentle motion of the ship, Sheila curled up in her cloak and fell asleep.