Secret of the Unicorn Queen book 4: Into the Dream
By Suzanne Weyn


1
Haunted Days, Sleepless Nights

Sheila McCarthy stood on a cliff, a warm wind whipping her face Pink and yellow clouds drifted across the deep purple-blue sky above her. "Come on, girl, it's me, Sheila," she coaxed as she stepped cautiously forward.
The unicorn before her backed away in short skittish steps to the very edge of the cliff. Throwing back her cream-colored head with its black, pointed horn, she whinnied nervously.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, Morning Star," Sheila tried to soothe the animal. "What's wrong?" Sheila's heart ached at the sight of her beloved unicorn in such distress. The bond between them felt stronger than ever, and Sheila expe­rienced Morning Star's terror without knowing its cause.
Sheila reached out to Morning Star with only one thought in her head: I have to save her. I must save her. But the unicorn panicked and reared back, beating at the air with her powerful hoofs. Then, as Sheila watched in horror, Morning Star went plunging over the edge of the cliff.
"No!'' Sheila shrieked. She ran to the edge of the cliff and watched the unicorn sail out for several feet and then plum­met down, down, into a seemingly bottomless void.
"Come back! Come back!" Sheila screamed. The unicorn seemed to hear her and looked back one last time, but then she began to glow with a strange, sparkling light. In the next second Morning Star was gone—disappeared!
Sheila fell to her knees, sobbing. “Morning Star, come back! Please come back."

"Sheila! Sheila!" a voice called to her from very far away. Sheila opened her eyes slowly and saw that it was morning. She was safe in her own bed in her own room. Her mother was sitting on the edge of her bed. "Are you all right, Sheila?" Mrs. McCarthy asked. "You looked as if you were having a terrible dream."
"I was. Thanks for waking me," Sheila answered sleepily. She felt dampness on her cheeks and realized they were wet with tears.
"Do you want to talk about it?" her mother asked kindly, running a cool hand across her daughter's sweating fore­head.
"No, it was only a dream," Sheila said, rubbing her eyes. "I'll be okay."
"You'd better get up now or you'll be late for school," Mrs. McCarthy said, still looking at Sheila with troubled eyes. “You know that if you want to talk, I'm here."
"I know, Mom," Sheila said with a small smile. Then, turning to look at the digital clock on her nightstand, she bolted out of bed. "It's seven-thirty!" she cried. "I'd really better get going!"
Sheila's mother left as Sheila grabbed for her jeans. She was just stepping into them when the image of Morning Star leaping out into nothingness came back into her head. She began to tremble and sat down on the bed. This was the fifth night in a row she had had the same dream. What did it mean? Could sweet Morning Star, so far away, somehow be calling out to her? Or was it only a dream, a sad, terrible dream?
Sheila gulped down breakfast, grabbed her lavender backpack, and ran out of the house to meet her friend Cookie Rogers. The two girls had walked to school together every morning since starting kindergarten almost ten years ago.
Cookie waved when she saw Sheila rushing up the street toward her. "Running a little behind schedule—for a change," she teased. "Maybe you should buy a cannon to blast you out of bed.”
"Very funny. It's just that I haven't been sleeping too well lately, so it's hard to get up in the mornings."
The two girls walked in silence for a block until they turned up the long paved drive to Hillside High. Then Cookie turned and stared straight into Sheila's hazel eyes. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You've been acting very strange lately, do you realize that?"
"I'm okay, honestly I am,'' Sheila insisted. "Please stop worrying. I'm really fine."
"If you say so," Cookie replied, finishing off the last of her chocolate cupcake. "But I'm still not convinced. Look at it from my point of view. Sometime last month I'm walking home from school with you. You're just a normal—well, sort of normal—teenager like me. You tell me you're going to visit that strange Dr. Reit after school. Then, the very next day I see you and—Bam!—it's like you're this totally different person.”
Sheila stopped and adjusted her backpack. "Cookie, some­times you exaggerate so much! I haven't changed a bit."
"Haven't changed! You're not serious, I hope!" Cookie shouted, running a slightly pudgy hand through her short curly brown hair. "Ever since that day you've had this faraway look in your eyes, like you're half here and half somewhere else."
Sheila tossed her long auburn hair over her shoulders and looked at her friend seriously. "I've had a lot on my mind," she said. "You know I have that big science project coming up.
"Yeah. But that still doesn't explain the fact that you showed up the next day with bruises all over your body and a cut on your forehead."
"I told you, I was helping Dr. Reit move some equipment and it fell on top of me."
"Okay, then what about that all-over Florida tan you got in just one day?" Cookie challenged.
"We've been through this a million times. Dr. Reit has a great sunlamp in his lab. I used that."
"Sure," Cookie grumbled sarcastically. "I'm sure Dr. Reit really spends his spare time trying to look like a bronzed god. That guy can hardly be bothered to put his clothes on right side out! Besides, those lamps aren't good for you."
Sheila felt the morning sun warming her back, and she unbuttoned her denim jacket as they neared the school. "I promise I won't use the sunlamp again. Now are you satisfied, Cookie?"
"No way," Cookie answered. "You still haven't explained how your hair grew at least three inches in one day."
Sheila sighed. "It didn't. You must not have noticed how long it was getting because I'd been wearing it back in a braid a lot.''
"All right, then," Cookie said, stopping to face Sheila. "Tell me how you turned into this super athlete overnight? I mean, you were never exactly a clod or anything, but suddenly you're the captain of the archery club. You're down at the stables every afternoon horseback riding. You're even talking about trying out for the fencing team! I never knew you could do any of those things—and I've known you since you were four years old!"
Sheila shrugged. "I guess I never realized how much I like being active. I'm just exploring a different side of myself. You always said I studied too much.''
"I didn't mean for you to turn into some kind of sports fa­natic!" Cookie argued as they walked up the wide steps of the school. "And I can't believe you just lost your entire backpack, school books, everything. That's not like you. You're going to have to pay for those books, you know.”
"People lose things, Cookie. It happens."
"All I know is that you're different from the Sheila Mc­Carthy I used to know,"
Sheila put her arm around Cookie's shoulders as they en­tered the school. "It's nice to have a friend who worries so much," she said with a smile. "Maybe I'm just changing. Ev­erybody changes," she said. "Have I really been so horrible to be around?"
"No, not horrible at all. Just different."
"We're still friends, though. That hasn't changed. Has it?''
Cookie smiled up at Sheila. "Of course not. That's one thing that will never change—not ever!"
"Good. Just try to be patient, and don't worry," said Sheila. "Hey, look at the time," she added, glancing up at the hall clock. "I have to get to my locker before homeroom. I'd better run.”
"Me, too," said Cookie. "See you at lunch," She headed down the hall toward her locker, then turned back to Sheila who was heading in the opposite direction. "Hey, Sheila," she called.
"What?" Sheila answered, straining to see Cookie through all the kids rushing to class.
"That Dr. Reit didn't give you steroids or anything weird like that, did he?" Cookie asked.
"Cookie! Cut it out! No! See you at lunch," Sheila shouted. She turned and wove a path through the other stu­dents. She hated lying to Cookie. But even Cookie would never believe the story Sheila had to tell. She would think Sheila had lost her mind altogether.
Sheila dialed the combination for her locker and pulled out the history notebook she needed for first period. She threw her backpack in and shut the door.
Leaning back against her locker, she watched the steady stream of students flow by. Cookie was right—Sheila had changed. Since that day she visited Dr. Reit over a month ago, nothing had been the same.
But how could she explain it to Cookie? She could try telling the truth. She could just come out and say: "Sit down, Cookie. I have something to tell you. You may not believe this, but here it is. On the day that I went to visit Dr. Reit, he showed me his latest experiment, the Molecular Acceler­ation Transport Device. Even he wasn't sure how it worked or what it did, exactly. But I found out when his cat, Einstein, got underfoot and sent me flying through the transporter screen.
A small shiver ran down Sheila's spine as she recalled the terrifying sensation of hurtling through swirling blue space, not knowing where—or when—she would ever stop.
And now, as she made her way toward homeroom, lost in her own memories, she imagined herself saying, "Okay, Cookie, if you believe that much, I'll tell you the rest. I landed in an alternate universe, a world that was sort of like ours, but very different. And I was picked up by a band of women war­riors who rode around on unicorns.
A small smile spread across Sheila's face as she slipped into her homeroom seat. She could just picture Cookie's shocked expression when she heard the part about the uni­corns. Yet it was all true.
The women warriors had adopted Sheila as one of their own, and soon made her a warrior-in-training. Under the guid­ance of their leader, Illyria—who was known throughout the land as the Unicorn Queen—Sheila had learned to use a sword, to fight, to ride, to hunt, and to do everything the other women did. Finally she had even gotten a unicorn to accept her as its rider—Morning Star.
Sheila closed her eyes and tried to visualize the unicorn with her big, blue eyes and soft black mane, ''I love you, girl, wherever you are," she said to herself, somehow sure that Morning Star would get her message.
Sheila slumped back in her seat. She remembered riding Morning Star into battle as they fought against the Emperor Dynasian, trying to free the unicorns he had captured. The cuts and bruises Cookie had noticed were from that last, tri­umphant battle in the city of Campora.
Sheila's face softened as she remembered Darian, Illyria's brother, fighting beside her in that battle—as he had done so many times before that. She missed him terribly. It felt as though their parting kiss were still on her lips.
Sheila knew Cookie would be more interested in hearing about Darian than anything else. "He was sixteen, very cute, and nice, even though sometimes he liked to be the boss," she would tell her friend. "I liked him a lot. A real lot."
"Then why did you ever leave?" Cookie would ask.
A good question—and one Sheila had asked herself a hun­dred times already. Why had she left? Because when Dr. Reit came looking for her and was finally able to take her back into her own world, she suddenly realized she belonged there. Be­sides, she had missed her parents and her friends.
"I missed you, Cookie," she imagined herself saying. "So I came back. And guess what! Even though I'd been riding with Illyria for months, in our time I was only gone a few hours. That's why you're so convinced I changed overnight.”    
"Miss McCarthy!" Sheila looked up, startled by the sound of her homeroom teacher's voice. “Don't you think you should be getting to your first class?"
Sheila felt herself blush. She was the only student left in the classroom "Sorry, Miss Snyder," she said, grabbing up her notebook and heading for the door. "I can't believe I didn't hear the bell!"
"Are you all right?"
"Fine, really," Sheila answered. "Thanks for asking." But as Sheila hurried down the hall toward history class, she  I couldn't help wondering. Was she fine, realty? No, not really.
She felt like a person who didn't quite fit into either of two worlds. At first, everything in Illyria's land had been strange to her. But now it was her own environment that felt uncomfortable. School seemed crowded and dull. It was hard to sit still for hours on end, and even harder to get worked up over the next Hillside High football game.
How could she spend her days sitting when she had grown used to the exhilaration of hard riding with the wind in her hair? And it was impossible to care about a pep rally when, just a month ago, she had been facing life-and-death chal­lenges. Everything seemed so tame now. She longed for the next adventure and had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't coming.
That afternoon, as Sheila walked home alone after archery club, she couldn't get Morning Star out of her mind. If the unicorn really needed her, what could she do? She felt so helpless.
Sheila continued walking up Cardinal Street toward her house. It was a crisp October day, with just a slight chill in the air, but suddenly Sheila felt an icy coldness take hold of her. Shivering, she fell back against a tree. Her hands were shaking and she felt dizzy. All of Cardinal Street was swirling before her eyes. And then it was gone. .
Once again Sheila was standing on that cliff, the purple sky overhead and the dry wind whipping her hair. Once again she watched, terrified, as Morning Star's lean body flew out into the void and then disappeared. "Morning Star! Come back!" she heard herself scream.
When she opened her eyes, she was on Cardinal Street once again. Nothing had changed—but the words, "Come back! Come back!" still echoed in her head.


2

Transported

Sheila lifted up the brass gargoyle-head knocker and rapped on the door. She had just turned back down Cardinal Street and, instead of going directly home, had headed for an old Victorian house at the top of Mockingbird Hill. She hadn't visited Dr. Reit in weeks, and she was suddenly seized with a strong desire to see him again.
She had been standing out front, knocking and ringing the doorbell, for almost five minutes, but there was no answer. She finally gave up and walked around the house, through the overgrown grass and shrubbery, to the back door. "Dr. Reit, are you home?" she called, as she neared his ramshackle back porch.
A tall man with a shock of wild gray and white hair stuck his head out the inside door from the house. His intelligent dark eyes darted back and forth. "Who's there? Who's call­ing?"
"It's me," Sheila answered, pulling open the unlocked screen door.
At the sight of her, the man's face brightened. "What a fine surprise. Come in, come in, by all means." He held the door open and Sheila stepped into his chaotic laboratory, crammed full of test tubes, petri dishes, stacks of yellowing papers, and all kinds of strange contraptions.
Her eyes instantly traveled to the Molecular Acceleration Transport Device in the corner of the room, which looked like nothing more than a full-sized mirror with gray vented motors on either side. Its panel board stood just off to the right. Only the faint purple-white glow coming from the center of the reflective transporter window hinted at the power it would emit when fully activated.
"How goes it?" asked Dr. Reit as he perched on a high stool, sweeping his rumpled white lab coat behind him.
"Okay, I guess," Sheila answered, bending to pet Dr. Reit's tiger-striped cat, Einstein. "Things seem kind of boring after, you know, everything."
"They would, yes, I can well imagine," he said sympa­thetically. "Speaking of your recent adventures, you've come at an opportune time." He hopped off his stool and rummaged through a tall metal cabinet. "I have something to show you," he said, pulling out a metal box about the size of a TV remote-control device.
"It's my newest innovation—the Molecular Transport Tracker."
Sheila took the box from him and studied it. The casing was khaki green, with three purple switches across the middle and a thick yellow wire curling down its length.
''How does it work?" Sheila asked, turning the surprisingly heavy object over in her hands before giving it back to the scientist.
"You may remember what a difficult time I had finding you once you tumbled through the transporter window," Dr. Reit said.
Sheila laughed. "I sure do. But somehow you always man­aged to pop up when I really needed you.”
"Sometimes it worked out quite well, I agree," Dr. Reit said with a soft chuckle, "but it was all too unpredictable, too chancy. Theoretically, this device will tell me exactly where a person on the other side of the window is located. I can then bring him or her back without going through the window myself." Dr Reit held the box out in front of him. "Just flip the top switch, like this, and then move the bottom switch to the left . . ." No sooner had Dr. Reit demonstrated than a series of numbers came up on a small screen at the side of the transporter. "Those coordinates are telling me that I'm stand­ing right here " he explained, "but I think they might just as well pinpoint a person on the other side-"
"That's great!" said Sheila, sincerely enthused. "You're a genius, Dr. Reit."
The scientist smiled modestly. "It was simply a matter of fine-tuning something I'd already developed. I haven't even tested it yet. It simply works in theory. Your unplanned trip through the transporter forced me to test that invention out before it was quite ready."
Sheila grew silent. Once again she was thinking about Morning Star. "I'll test the Tracker for you," she said.
Dr. Reit clasped his hands behind his back and paced the floor. "No, no. That would be much too dangerous. You're home safe and sound now. Let's leave well enough alone."
"But, Dr. Reit, I want to go back. I need to," Sheila begged. "I've been having this dream that my unicorn, Morn­ing Star, is in some kind of trouble. Maybe the others are in danger, too."
"All the more reason to stay right here," he cautioned.
"They're my friends. I've got to go if they need me."
Dr. Reit studied Sheila's face. "You're a brave and loyal girl. I've always admired that in you." For a moment Sheila was sure he was going to weaken, but then he shook his head. "No, there's absolutely no guarantee that you'd even wind up in the same place. You could land on another planet for all I know."
"Have you moved the dials since I returned?"
''No-”
"Then I'd probably land right in the main square of Campora, in the same spot that we left,'' Sheila argued. ''I'll just go through, have a quick visit, and beep you with this thing when I want to come back."
Dr. Reit pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "No, I'm afraid I must be firm on this. It's just too risky."
"You're sure?"
"Quite sure."
"Don't you ever think about them, Dr. Reit?" Sheila asked sadly
"I do, indeed, often."
"I may never see them again."
“That is possible," Dr. Reit said, "but let's not think neg­atively. If I get this thing perfected, perhaps we can talk then. But right now I'm about ready for supper. And from the way Einstein is circling around my feet, I'd say he is, too. Care to join us?''
"No, thanks. I'd better get home."
Dr. Reit put his lanky arm around Sheila's shoulder and walked her to the back door. "You've had a most extraordi­nary experience, Sheila. It's going to take you a little while to readjust to our world. Give yourself some time."
"I'll try"' Sheila said with a faint smile. "It was good seeing you again, anyway.”
Dr. Reit gathered Einstein up in the crook of his right arm and waved as Sheila shut the screen door behind her. "The pleasure was mine. Come visit me often," he said.
Sheila trudged down Mockingbird Hill and stopped at the corner. The second the light turned green, a car honked at the one in front of it. Its driver was probably impatient to get home after a long day at work. "Hold your horses!'' the man in the first car screamed out his window.
Hold your horses. It made Sheila think of Morning Star but lately everything did.
Sheila got home and found the house empty. There was a note from her mother on the refrigerator door: Gone to the mall. Dad bowling. Frozen dinners are in the freezer. See you around 8. Love, Mom."
Sheila took a dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and carrots from the freezer, ripped open the box, and popped the tray into the microwave oven.
She poured herself a cola, and when the microwave beeped to tell her the dinner was done, she took her meal to the coffee table in the den and used the remote control to turn on the TV. News, News. A game show. News. More news. She snapped the set off.
Sheila ate her TV dinner, hardly tasting it, then checked the digital readout on the VCR for the time. It was 6:40.
The next thing Sheila did, she did without thinking. It was as if her body were on automatic pilot. Somewhere inside she knew that if she thought too hard, she would change her mind. Her common sense would stop her. And she didn't want to be stopped. Another side of Sheila, a more powerful, intuitive side, was guiding her movements.
Sheila picked up the lavender backpack, which she had tossed in the front hall, and carried it upstairs to her bedroom. She unzipped it, dumped the contents onto her bed, and started to repack it.
She had left her old pack with Dian, one of Illyria's war­riors. What would she take along this time? Her first journey through time and space had been a matter of chance, but now she was going to plan ahead.
Sheila put in some clean underwear, two T-shirts, and a sweatshirt. The jeans she was wearing were all she would need for pants. "I'm not leaving without my toothbrush this time," she said out loud and ducked into the bathroom to get it and a tube of toothpaste. She grabbed a box of Band-Aids and a roll of antacid tablets from the medicine cabinet, remember­ing how her stomach had felt after a dinner of roasted bats.
Returning to her bedroom, Sheila took her new tape re­corder with the headphones from her dresser. What tapes should she bring? Definitely Springsteen, and U-2. Iltyria would like the new Whitney Houston tape, since she'd liked the old one. Sheila grabbed a handful of other cassettes, in­cluding some blanks, and threw them into the pack. Then she dug down deep into her top drawer, where she kept odds and ends, and pulled out an unopened card of batteries. These went into the pack as well.
Sheila glanced around her room. What else? Her Polaroid camera sat on the bookshelf. The unicorn warriors could have a lot of fun with that. She reached back into her top drawer for two extra rolls of film and tossed them on the bed. At the bottom of the drawer she found a clear red plastic water pistol. She and Cookie had been fooling around with them last summer at camp. Her friends might find the pistol entertain­ing.
Her backpack was almost full, but not quite. Sheila looked at the books on her shelf. Illyria would be fascinated by the paperback atlas. And then there was a book of photos, The Twentieth Century in Pictures. That would help her explain many seemingly strange things to her friends. She stuffed the books into her backpack along with a half-empty notebook and a pen.
Sheila headed downstairs to the kitchen for a trash bag to carry additional items. She unrolled a large black plastic bag and grabbed a bunch of carrots from the refrigerator. The uni­corns would like those.
Fishing through her mother's catch-all drawer, she found a pack of sparklers from last July. They would be fun. Next to them was a yellow plastic lighter. That would last longer than matches. Sheila also found a portable first-aid kit—perfect for Pelu, the warrior woman known as the healer.
Sheila then decided it would be nice to bring small gifts for everyone. She searched the house looking for suitable presents—things that no one in her house paid attention to, but that would delight her faraway friends.
It was 7:30 by the time Sheila was finished. She tossed the bag and her pack into the front hall. Now she just had to write a note so her parents wouldn't worry.
Sheila did some quick calculations. The last time she had been gone for months, and it had seemed like hours at home. So, suppose she stayed for a week this time. It would seem like . ... what? About fifteen minutes here.' She might be back before her parents even came home. Better to play it safe, though.
"Dear Mom and Dad," she wrote. "I went to the movies with Cookie. Be home by 9. Love, Sheila." Nine was her schoolday curfew. They wouldn’t be upset by that.
Sheila dragged her stuff out onto the front steps. The bags were heavy, but she managed to get herself balanced. In a short while she was walking back up Mockingbird Hill.
Sheila stopped outside Dr. Reit's house. Only the front rooms were lit. She walked quietly around to the back of the house and slipped through the screen door. Carefully she pushed in the back door, knowing that absent-minded Dr. Reit rarely remembered to lock it.
She stood in the dark lab. It was lit only by the faint purplish glow emitted by the Molecular Acceleration Transport Device over in the corner. Once Sheila's eyes adjusted, she saw the Tracker sitting on the table exactly where Dr. Reit had left it that afternoon.
Sheila set her bag and pack down in front of the trans-porter window. She found a long yellow legal-sized pad and pen on the table near the Tracker. "Dear Dr. Reit," she wrote. "Please don't be too angry with me. I just had to go back and make sure everything's okay. I can't get over this feeling that Morning Star needs me. She's my unicorn and no one else can help her the way I can. I've taken the Tracker and I'll let you know when I need to come back. Thanks, and, as I said, please don't be mad."
Sheila signed the note, then propped the pad up so Dr. Reit would be sure to see it. Then she thought of something else- What if she wanted to come back before Dr. Reit even knew she was gone? That could be a problem. But no, she remembered Dr. Reit telling her that whenever the Molecular Transport Device was activated, it made lights flicker all through the house. Dr. Reit would surely see the lights going, and he would rush to his laboratory to find out what was happening. Then he would see her note.
Picking up the Tracker, Sheila walked over to the transporter window. And suddenly, for the first time since she had decided to leave, she felt frightened. What if something went wrong? What if she just kept spinning through time and space and never landed anywhere? Maybe she would wind up in some unknown, even stranger place.
Her hands trembled as she looked down at the Tracker. She had to have faith in Dr. Reit and his inventions. With the Tracker, he would be able to bring her back, no matter what. . . . She hoped.
Holding the Tracker in one hand, Sheila used her free hand to pull the lever of the transporter. The window screen began pulsing with a throbbing violet light that gradually be-came an even deeper shade of purple. Dr. Reit had once told her it was best to wait until the screen was a solid, steady purple before going through.
Sheila heard a low hum and knew that the lights in the house had started to flicker. She had to make it through the window before Dr. Reit came to investigate.
Already she could hear his footsteps hurrying down the hall. Was the screen dark enough? It would have to do. She threw her bag and her pack through the window. They disappeared instantly.
The footsteps were getting very close. It was now or never. Sheila took a deep breath and prepared to jump. At that mo­ment the door flew open and Dr. Reit appeared. Sheila took one look at his horrified face, bathed in the glow of purple light, and leapt quickly into the screen. She heard him cry' out, "Sheila! Don't!" and then she was tumbling, spinning head over heels into a bottomless gray void.


3

Return to Campora

"Ouch!" Sheila landed hard on the stone-lined street of Cam­pora's main square, just a few feet away from her trash bag and backpack. She sat up and smiled, rubbing her skinned elbow. She had done it. She had come through the transporter in one piece!
There was no doubt about it—she was definitely in Campora. But even in the dark of night, Sheila could tell that the city was not exactly as she remembered it.
The grand homes with their columns and balconies had been replaced by simpler white stone buildings. Their win­dows glowed with soft, welcoming lights. The podiums on which lawbreakers had been publicly punished were gone, re­placed by small running fountains. The platform from which the Emperor Dynasian spoke to his oppressed people had been removed and the ground under it planted with flowers. It seemed to Sheila that the stones of the street beneath her were the only relic of the old Campora.
For a moment Sheila was puzzled by the change. But then she remembered that during the great battle to free Campora from Dynasian and his vicious wizard, Mardock, torches had been knocked over and an uncontrollable fire had raged. It had still been burning when Sheila left. The fire must have destroyed the entire square, and maybe a great deal of the city.
Rising to her feet, Sheila picked up her bag and threw the backpack over her shoulder. She liked this Campora better than the old one. It was a brighter, friendlier-looking place by far. And she knew the reason why.
Illyria and Laric governed here now. Sheila recalled the handsome face of Prince Laric, lllyria's love. Now that the spell which Mardock had cast over Laric and his men was broken—a spell that had changed them into giant golden ea­gles—Sheila was sure she would find the two lovers together. The palace seemed the most likely place to seek them.
She headed to her left, down one of the narrow winding streets that fed into the square. But Sheila soon discovered that her memory of Campora wasn't as accurate as she had thought. After almost twenty minutes spent wandering along the curving, dimly lit streets, Sheila realized she had somehow gotten turned around and was almost back to where she started from. Her bags were beginning to feel heavier with each step she took. "Think, Sheila," she coached herself. "You're not concentrating.''
She sat down on a stone step in front of a silversmith's shop, which was dark and locked up for the night. Suddenly she heard the sound of a woman laughing. The warm lilt of her voice was wonderfully familiar to Sheila.
In the next second Sheila saw the woman round the dark corner and start walking toward her. She was accompanied by another, smaller, woman. Sheila jumped up, hoping she was right. "Kara? Lianne?" she called to the two figures who were still cloaked in shadow.
The larger woman stiffened, her shoulders squared, and her head cocked alertly to one side. "Who calls us? Show your­self!" she commanded.
Now Sheila was sure. She stepped out into the ray of light thrown from the window above. "It's me, Sheila."
Kara and the smaller woman, her sister, Lianne, ran to­ward Sheila. "By earth and sky, it is!'' Kara shouted, grabbing hold of Sheila's two arms. ''I took you to be some sort of night spirit, roaming around by yourself at this hour."
Kara hugged Sheila warmly. "Come, come home with Lianne and me and tell us of your adventures since last we saw you.”
"You look very well indeed," said Lianne, slipping her arm through Sheila's.
"So do you," Sheila replied. "Both of you," she added, turning to look at Kara, still tall and strong-looking, her dark brown hair pulled back into a bun.
Sheila was happy to discover that she still had the ability to understand their language. The magic Gem of Speaking had imparted that power to her when she first arrived in the land of the unicorns, and apparently her time away had not diminished it.
The two sisters stopped after a short while and turned into an open courtyard full of narrow homes attached to one an other. Kara pushed open the door of one and guided Sheila inside.
Only a single lantern burned in the dark room, but Lianne quickly used its flame to light several more. Kara made a small fire in the stone hearth, and the room was soon awash in gentle golden light.
It was a simple but attractive room. Large red cushions on two platforms made appealing beds not far from the fireplace, and a smooth wooden table dominated the area on the other side. There was an earthen bowl of low bristly purple flowers in the center of the table. Sheila knew that was surely gentle Lianne's touch.
As she set her bags down in a corner, it occurred to Sheila that she had never seen either woman in such a comfortable setting before—she had only known them dressed in scraps and armor, riding their unicorns or sitting around a campfire. But that wasn't the only difference Sheila noticed. Though Kara's delicate face still wore the same serious expression, there was a new gentleness in her eyes, and her face looked slightly fuller. A glance at her arms told Sheila they were still the well-muscled limbs of a champion archer, but there was something more relaxed in her posture. She had turned in her rough tunic and now wore a simple belted blue dress of soft material that fell just below her calves.
Sheila had always known Lianne was pretty, but now with her light brown hair curling gently around her shoulders and wearing a simple white gown, clasped at either shoulder with two pins, she was absolutely beautiful. Both sisters had lost the alert, road-worn look that life as a warrior seemed to bring.
"Has everyone settled here in Campora?" Sheila asked.
"Unlikely as it may seem, it has become home base,” Kara said with a laugh as she hung a kettle of water over the fire. "But Lianne and I are the only ones who've chosen to hang up our shields. The others still ride with Illyria and tend to the unicorns. Things have been rather quiet, though, even for them."
Lianne sat at the table, chopping a potatolike root. "I'm going to be married next month," she said happily, "to Ansom, one of Laric's men."
"Not handsome Ansom!" Sheila teased. "The one you said was in love with his own good looks?"
Lianne blushed. "I was wrong about him. He's not con­ceited in the least. And he is handsome, isn't he?"
"That's for sure," Sheila replied. She was happy for Lianne, who had never really been cut out for the warrior life. "Do you still see the others?" Sheila asked, settling down on a cushion by the fire.
"I see most of them every day up at the palace," Kara answered. "In fact, we just came from there. I teach archery to the new soldiers and to Laric's men." Kara got up and took a basketful of the root from Lianne, then tossed the pieces into the boiling water. "I only joined Illyria to find Lianne after she was kidnapped by Dynasian. Now that I've found her, my job is done. I'm ready for an easier life."
"How about you, Sheila? What have you been doing, and what brings you back to us?" Lianne asked, now chopping an orangy-brown vegetable.
Sheila told them all about her dream and her fears for Morning Star. Kara drummed her fingertips on the stone floor where she was seated. "That worries me," she said. "Illyria and the others left two weeks ago. They should have returned by now.
"Where did they go?" Sheila asked.
"They were going to return the unicorns Dynasian had captured to the mountains. The city is no place for such wild creatures." Kara rose and began to pace. "They were simply going to guide them to a mountain pasture and make sure they found good grazing."
"Now that Dynasian and Mardock are gone, they're safe, though. Aren't they?" Sheila asked.
Kara laughed bitterly. "Don't fool yourself, girl. Dynasian made all kinds of sordid alliances before we undid him. And Campora is still a city of immeasurable value. There are many who would like to control it."
Sheila breathed deeply to calm her racing heart. She didn't like the sound of Kara's words. "Kara, would you mind if I left now and went to the palace?" Sheila asked apologetically. "I want to see Laric. I'm not sure why. I just have this feel­ing."
"I'll take you," Kara offered. "Laric won't be able to tell you any more than I just did, but when news or Illyria herself arrives, he will be the first to know. Your intimations of trou­ble dismay me. They are too much like my own.”
Sheila hugged Lianne. "I'll be back. You'll probably see me tomorrow.”
Kara and Sheila left the cozy house and headed out through the courtyard. They walked in silence for ten minutes until they came to a steep road, which Sheila instantly rec­ognized as the way to the palace.
"What happened to all the gold statues and the jeweled picture frames?" she asked Kara as a smiling guard waved them through the front gate.
"Laric and Illyria sold most of them to rebuild the city square and the west side after they were destroyed by the fire."
"That stuff was gross anyway,” Sheila commented, re­membering the ornate gold statues of fat men and women, usually shown stuffing themselves at feasts.
Kara stopped and looked at Sheila, puzzled. "I mean they were ugly," Sheila explained, remembering that her use of the word gross was unknown in Kara's language.
"Gross," Kara repeated. "Yes, they were that. Whatever precious metals weren't sold were melted down for weapons. The rest of the valuables were stored away to be sold in the future so there would be no need to tax the people."
"The Camporans must be so happy," said Sheila. 
"We are indeed!" Kara told her proudly. Kara and Sheila continued to make their way through the palace, which was now a simpler, brighter, and more pleasant place than the one Sheila remembered. Guards smiled and waved at Kara as she passed. "Is Laric about this evening?" Kara called to one of them.
"I saw him enter the meeting hall,'' the guard answered.
The two women continued down the high, wide hallway until they stopped in front of a wooden door. Kara rapped on it. "Enter," a deep and familiar voice commanded.
Stepping inside, they saw Prince Laric sitting at a large round table intently studying a big book, which was opened in front of him. He looked up, his dark eyes unfocused, as though his thoughts were still back with his book. In an in­stant, though, he had recognized Sheila and was on his feet. His handsome face broke into the warm smile that made it handsomer still. "What wizard has conjured you up?" he asked happily, coming toward her, his powerful arms spread wide in welcome.
Sheila smiled back as the tall man embraced her.
"She's come because she's worried," Kara told him.
"Worried?" Lane asked, stepping back to look at Sheila. He pulled a chair out from the table and gestured for her to sit. "What could be worrying my brave little warrior? Tell me, please."
"I'm worried about Morning Star. I think she needs me. And now Kara says Illyria and the others are with the uni­corns. So maybe they're in trouble, too."
Laric's face remained somber. "And what is the basis for this worry'?''
"My dreams. I keep dreaming that Morning Star is in dan­ger,'' Sheila answered.
As she described her troubling visions of Morning Star leaping off the cliff and disappearing before her eyes, Laric pressed his fingers together and held them against his lips. "Your dreams," he said thoughtfully. Sheila knew he wouldn't laugh or dismiss her fears as nonsense. In this land, dreams and magic were taken seriously. Laric himself was a mage, a practitioner of good magic.
"Illyria is late coming back," Kara reminded him needlessly.
Laric smiled. "That does not worry me," he said. "Illyria's life on the road has made her as wild as the unicorns she now frees. The city is much too confining for her. She is often restless. I'm sure she is simply taking advantage of her time in the wilderness."
''It is possible, but I don't like it,'' Kara insisted.
"You, of all people, should have faith in Illyria's abilities," Laric replied. "Illyria and her women can outfight and outwit the best of men."
"What you say is true," Kara conceded, "but something is distressing you. I saw it in your face when we entered."
Laric walked back to the book he had been studying, which was opened to a large and very detailed map. "It may be noth­ing, nothing at all," he explained. "This evening two men arrived, ragged wanderers. They said they had information about Emperor Ankzar of Queelotoo—that he is planning to move against Campora soon."
"I have not heard of this Ankzar," Kara said, her hazel eyes shifting as she searched her memory.
"He is an ally and neighbor of King Kumuru's," Laric told her. Kumuru had been allied with Dynasian as well. It was he Illyria's band had once stopped from shipping a whole herd of unicorns to Kumuru to be sacrificed to the Dark Gods Kumuru worshipped. Kara and Sheila both knew that any friend of Kumuru's was bound to be bad news as well.
"The men may have simply been looking for payment," Laric continued. "Still, I have been studying this book of maps, trying to anticipate what Ankzar's approach would be, should the rumor prove true."
Sheila glanced down at the table. She knew from experi­ence that the maps in this world often turned out to be dis­mayingly inaccurate. They were derived from guesses and approximations. A place that appeared on a map to be a day's ride away often turned out to take two days—or ten. But this map was different. It was drawn with a strong, confident hand and appeared more like a modem map than any she had seen. "This is a beautiful thing. Where did it come from?" she asked Laric.
"It's an eagle's-eye view of the world," he said proudly. "Even though we are free of Mardock's curse and can live as humans, my men and I were left with the ability to shift into eagle form at will. Of course, the map is but a product of mem­ory, and memory can have its flaws. Still, viewing the land from the air gives us a great advantage. We have covered vast ter­ritories and set it all down here. I believe these are the most accurate maps ever to have existed."
Sheila went to her pack, which she had set down near the table, and took out the atlas. She opened it to a two-page map marked "The Ancient World." She wasn't sure if the geog­raphy of this land was exactly the same as that of her own. Some things were the same, but then others were not. It seemed to be a world that was roughly parallel to ancient Earth1 not a carbon copy of it.
She placed her map down above Laric's map. The land masses did seem to be remarkably similar. "These are also drawn from aerial photos," she explained. "Maybe they'll help you.
Laric and Kara looked at Sheila with questioning eyes. "Do you have men and women who can fly in your world?" Laric asked.
Sheila laughed. "No, these were taken from planes. Maybe they even use satellites now, I'm not sure." She realized they were still looking at her blankly. "A satellite is this spaceship kind of thing, only nobody's on it and…” Her voice trailed off as Sheila realized she was getting her friends even more confused. "I'll explain it some other time."
Studying the maps, Sheila saw that Campora appeared to be just below Earth's Rome. "Where is this Ankzar guy!" she asked Laric. When he pointed on his map to Queelotoo, Sheila referred back to her own map. "Gosh, that looks kind of like Egypt in my world. He's pretty far away."
"It is quite distant indeed," Laric agreed, shutting his big book. "May I keep your maps?" he asked. "I would love to compare them with my own and make adjustments. Your saddled-lights are most remarkable."
Now it was Sheila's turn to look puzzled. "Oh, you mean satellites!" she said at last. "But you know, you're right. Sometimes you can see them shining in the sky like manmade stars. I like that. Anyway, sure, you can keep the book."
Suddenly Sheila felt a yawn rising up inside her. Not want­ing to be rude, she stifled it, causing her nostrils to flare slightly. Laric laid his large hand on her shoulder. "You've had a long journey and must be exhausted. It is rime we all retire. I'm sure the morrow will bring news of Illyria, and perhaps the morning sun will shed some light on the question of Ankzar."
Laric asked Kara to show Sheila to one of the upper chambers and bade the women good night. "I will be back tomor­row afternoon to give archery lessons,” Kara told Sheila at the door of an empty bedchamber. "I will see you then. Sleep well."
Sheila sat down on the soft, velvet-covered bed. The room was bathed in the soft light of two torches hanging from the wall. The flames were shielded by finely carved metallic cas­ings that sent pinpoints of light dancing over the room.
Across from the bed was a stand with a large clay basin and a pitcher of cool water. Sheila splashed some on her face and then took off her outer clothes: She had barely crawled under the soft covers when she found herself drifting off to sleep—and into the world of dreams.
“No, no dream," she mumbled in her sleep, fighting her way back to wakefulness.
Sheila's eyes snapped open. When she realized she was safe in Laric's chamber, she rolled over, stretched, and was instantly asleep. Just before dawn she opened her eyes once, thinking she was home, but seeing the scattered lights of Laric's torches, she rolled to her other side and closed them again.
That's when the nightmare came. It was a new dream, even more terrible than the one that had brought her back to the land of the unicorns. It began with a lovely mournful song. A song that filled the air and seemed to call her. . .


4

Into the Wilderness

Sheila found herself walking down a grassy hill. The song was all around her, high and plaintive, yet she could see no singer. Below her was a herd of over two hundred unicorns. They stood, whinnying and scared, in a grove ringed by tall, leafy trees.
Suddenly a strange glow appeared in the sky above them. The panicked unicorns beat the ground with their hoofs and turned frantically in circles, but they couldn't find their way out of the ring of trees. Sheila ran down toward the herd. She knew that if she could lead one unicorn back up the slope, the others would follow to safety
As she made her way to the middle of the herd, the fright­ened animals kicked at the air around her. She had to be careful of their sharp horns as they dipped their heads and then reared back.
The unicorns' panic was contagious. Sheila's heart began to race. The lights were now flowing all around, overhead and near the ground. Steadying her nerves, she reached out to grab the mane of the nearest unicorn. Just as her hand touched it, the animal dropped to its knees and refused to get up. She reached for another, and it, too, crashed to the ground.
The lights now joined together and filled the sky. The song in the air had become maddeningly loud, almost drowning out the unicorns' terrified cries.
"Run!” Sheila screamed to the unicorns. "Up that hill! There is danger here! Terrible danger-“

Sheila bolted upright in bed, the word danger still on her lips. The first blue light of a misty dawn was filtering through the palace window. She heard the gentle call of two birds outside, but there was another sound as well. She cocked her head and listened, straining to make it out.
It was the song, the one in her dream, now playing softly, barely audible. But it was definitely there.
Pushing back the velvet cover, she swung her long legs over the side of the bed. Was she still dreaming? She didn't think so. The room was exactly as she remembered, though in the morning light she first noticed the rich tapestry of the multicolored curtains and the fine artwork that decorated the bowl and pitcher on the stand. It was the same room. The torches still burned on the wall. The stone floor felt solid under her bare feet. She was surely awake—and yet the song played on.
Sheila stood and picked her clothes up off the floor. Slowly she dressed, still hearing the haunting tune. It seemed to be coming from the hall outside. She opened the door. Now it seemed to be coming from down the corridor.
Sheila picked up her bags and followed the music down the hall. Whenever she thought she was near its source, the sound moved farther on, drawing her along, almost hypnoti­cally.
Sheila went by guards who looked up sleepily and nodded. She was hardly aware of them as she passed through the palace and out its front gate.
She walked the early morning streets of Campora, taking little notice of the merchants who were opening their shops.
She only knew she had to find the source of the song. Something inside her was sure that when she reached the singer, many of her questions would be answered.
Away from Campora, she wandered down through the lush valley outside the city, and into the dense forest. As Sheila walked, her mind was curiously blank, filled only with the music she followed. She walked and walked until the sun was a red ball hanging low in the sky and her feet and legs ached. She pulled a carrot from her backpack and ate it. Then she lay down at the root of a giant, gnarled tree, and using her pack as a pillow, she slept.
Sheila awoke after only a few hours and continued walking in the direction of the song. The strong white light of the full moon shone through the trees, illuminating the forest with its ghostly shimmer.
Sheila went deeper and deeper into the forest, which grew ever more dense, the moonlight breaking through now in only small and infrequent patches of light. She trailed the song along dark, muddy paths, ripping apart tangles of undergrowth and slipping on the mossy beds of shallow streams. Sweat drenched her T-shirt and plastered her damp hair to her forehead.
Finally her legs would move no further. Like the unicorns in her dream, Sheila fell to her knees. She stretched out on the soft cool ground, half awake and half asleep. The muscles of her calves twitched, and her arms felt leaden from carrying her bags.
Her mind wandered now, as she drifted in and out of sleep. Imagining that her mother was waking her for school, Sheila opened her eyes only to see the moonlit leaves fluttering over­head. She rolled over and dreamed she saw Laric and his men soaring through the sky as eagles, the way she had seen them so many times before. Again she awakened to see nothing but the rose-colored light of dawn streaking across the forest floor and falling on her lavender backpack a few feet away.
This time her eyes stayed open. Though half asleep, she knew something had changed. Her stomach was growling with hunger. She rolled onto her back and listened to it tumble for half a minute before she realized what was different, The only other sound to be heard was the gentle swoosh of the breeze through the leaves. The song was gone.
Lifting herself up onto one elbow, Sheila looked around. The forest seemed still enough. She had found no magical singer, no endangered unicorns. Was she under some evil spell or was she simply losing her mind?
Sheila rubbed her eyes and sat up. She had no idea where she was. Without the song to guide her, she had no direction. Fighting terror, she tried to clear her mind and decide what to do next. She was momentarily distracted by the sight of a large black beetle crawling across her backpack. Absently she picked up a long branch and reached over to sweep the hideous bug off her pack.
Zwappp!i The branch was suddenly alive with a sizzling green current. Sheila hurled the burning branch to the ground, but not before it sent an electrifying shock up her arm.
"Ahhhh," she moaned, rubbing her arm as the tingle of the shock turned into a throbbing ache. She looked down at the branch. It lay blackened on the ground—and next to it swirled the bottom of an even blacker robe.
"Mar .." She tried to speak the awful name of the man who stood there in his inky robes. It was the cruel wizard Mardock, his long oily hair oozing around his shoulders, his yellowish eyes boring into her mockingly.
"Impossible, I know," he said in the deep smooth voice that had always made Sheila imagine what it must be like to drown in quicksand. "You thought good Prince Laric had destroyed me, didn't you? Thought he had changed me into a beetle forever. Well, just as he broke my spell, I was able to break his. Now I, too, can shift from human to inhuman shape at will. A most useful byproduct of that particular spell."
Mardock chuckled at his own cleverness. Sheila had jumped to her feet and now trembled before him. She tried to remember the training she had received from Illyria. Banish fear, think only of surviving for the next minute and then the next until alt the minutes are one and you are victorious.
"I sensed your return to this world almost immediately," Mardock gloated, approaching Sheila as she backed away from him. "I'd have thought a sorceress such as yourself would cloak her return more effectively. But I forget—you are but an ap­prentice sorceress. Or was it that you wished for me to find you?"
"No, I wasn't looking for you," Sheila assured him, Mardock's words reminded her that he was convinced she, too, possessed great magic. That's why he hated her so much. But he also regarded her with a certain amount of respect and was greedy to know the secrets of her "magic" backpack. Because the things she carried in it were unfamiliar to him, he assumed they must have magical powers.
As if reading her thoughts, Mardock darted his eyes to the lavender pack which lay on the ground between them, In an instant the wizard was lunging for the prize, but Sheila had anticipated his move and threw herself on top of it first. She grabbed the pack and rolled away with it.
Infuriated, Mardock raised his sharp nails into the air and sent jagged lines of sickening green current toward Sheila, She scrambled up and leapt behind a tree, but Mardock felled it with one concentrated zap.
Noticing that her pack had come undone, Sheila reached in and pulled out the first thing that came to hand: her thick book of news pictures. With all her strength, she hurled the book at Mardock.
It was a hit! The wizard staggered back, holding his forehead. This was it—her chance to run! Sheila whirred around, looking for an escape route.
But Mardock recovered quickly. As Sheila began running, he used his magic to throw a small invisible boulder in her path. The next thing Sheila knew, she had stumbled over nothing and was falling face first to the ground. She pushed up on her skinned arms to find that the contents of her back­pack had been tossed onto the ground in front of her. Horrified, she saw the Tracker sitting out in clear sight.
Mardock stepped over the spilled objects, his eyes boring into Sheila's. "The game is over, little sorceress," he hissed, reaching down and dragging Sheila up by her shoulders. She winced as his pointed nails dug into her skin and his sulphuric breath filled her nostrils. "The game is over and you have lost it.''
Still holding her tightly with one hand, Mardock placed his other hand on her collarbone and let it drift slowly upward until he had wrapped it firmly around her throat. "Now you will teach me to use everything in that bag," he said, tight­ening the grip on her neck. Sheila coughed and fought for air.
"The choice is yours," he continued, squeezing even tighter. "You can show me, and then perhaps I will allow you to be my slave, or you can just let me figure it all out for myself—no real difficulty for one with my powers. But in that case, of course, I might as well snap your neck right now."
Sheila struggled with the last of her strength, trying to rip Mardock's hand from her throat, but the evil wizard held fast. Desperately she lashed out and clawed his face with her nails.
"Now you've done it!" Mardock shrieked, throwing her to the ground and wiping the blood from his face. A large rock instantly appeared in his hands, and Sheila knew that in the next second he would use it to crush her skull. She turned her head away, trying not to think about the searing pain to come. She shut her eyes tight.
There was a sudden silence . . . and then the soft sound of something flying through the air. "Aaaaahhhhhhh!" she heard Mardock howl in pain.
Sheila opened her eyes in time to see Mardock sink to his knees and clutch his bloody shoulder, where a silver-handled dagger was lodged. She whirled around in the direction the knife had come, and her eyes filled with tears of happiness. There1 in the clearing, mounted on her silvery-white unicorn, blue eyes blazing fiercely, was Illyria.
"A curse on you, Mardock!" Illyria shouted, unsheathing her sword. "Come now and dare to fight the Unicorn Queen!"


5

Reunion


Mardock staggered to his feet and, with a great effort, pulled the dagger from his shoulder. "La-eh, la-eh, la-eh," he wailed in a high, pain-filled voice. Instantly the blood stopped pour­ing from his wound. With raised hands he shot two of his murderous electric currents at Illyria.
Quiet Storm reared back to avoid the bolts. No sooner had the powerful unicorn settled than Illyria jumped off and approached Mardock, her sword drawn. Every muscle of her body was taut, ready for attack.
Mardock laughed tauntingly, but took a quiet step back despite his bravado. Then he clenched his hands together and held them straight out in front of him. Turning pale with the effort, he shot a thick straight rod of yellow light at Illyria.
With a single leap the Unicorn Queen bounded off the ground and somersaulted over the beam, landing nimbly on her hands and bouncing back to her feet.
Mardock aimed again, sending the thick rod of electricity higher, toward Illyria's head. Illyria tumbled into a front roll, under the beam. When she regained her feet, she was standing almost directly before him.
"You've learned some new tricks, Unicorn Queen," sneered Mardock. 
"As have you, wizard," she answered boldly. "Too bad they will do you no good."
Mardock raised his hands again, but this time there was no bolt of light. His last stunt had obviously drained him. Seeing that the wizard was unable to immediately summon another burst of energy, Illyria pressed her attack. "Prepare to die, cur!" she shouted, advancing on him, her sword slashing the air.
Even as the wizard stepped back rapidly, his eyes surveyed the contents of the spilled backpack. He stooped only long enough to scoop up the Tracker at his feet.
"Don't let him get that, Illyria!" Sheila yelled from where she stood, off to one side. "I need it."
Illyria lunged forward and drove her sword directly into Mardock's heart. But instead of slicing him open, it waved through a small tornado of sooty dirt. Shape-shifter Mardock had transformed himself, and the funnel of dirt quickly swirled away into the forest—along with the Tracker.
Illyria resheathed her sword and breathed deeply. She turned to Sheila. "Always in the thick of things, aren't you, my friend?" she said, her blue eyes sparkling.
Sheila smiled back at the woman known as the Unicorn Queen. She was the most amazing-looking person Sheila had ever encountered—tall and broad-shouldered, her abundant white-blond hair flowing down her shoulders, half of it caught up in thick braids. City life had not softened Illyria. Her sharp eyes, tanned skin, and hard muscles all told of her many years as a warrior. Only the soft fullness of her mouth hinted at the tender woman underneath the wild fighter.
"What was it of yours that I let Mardock escape with?" Illyria asked.
"It wasn't your fault," Sheila answered, trying not to show Illyria how upset she was over the loss of the Tracker. "Dr. Reit created that thing to help him find me when I wanted to return home. He's going to kill me."
"Dear Dr. Reit? Never!" Illyria objected. "Surely he would not harm you.
"No, no. I don't mean really kill me," Sheila explained. "That's just something we say at home to mean someone is going to be very angry. See, he didn't exactly give me permission to use the Tracker. And now I don't even know if I can get home without it."
"I do see,'' said Illyria. ''That is most distressing. But I doubt we've seen the last of Mardock. We may yet have an opportunity to retrieve your Tracker."
Sheila sighed. "I knew it was risky, but I just had to come back."
"Somehow I'm not at all surprised to see you here," said Illyria, brushing the hair from Sheila's face and studying her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm okay, thanks to you," Sheila answered, suddenly feeling her legs tremble beneath her. Now that the danger was past, all the terror, hunger, and confusion of the last two days suddenly overwhelmed her. She felt a terrific urge to cry.
''Sit, sit here," Illyria said soothingly, guiding Sheila to a large rock. “It's clear you've been through a great deal. Rest a moment." Illyria walked over to Quiet Storm and rook a water bag of sewn skins from his saddle. "Drink this," she urged, holding the bag to Sheila's lips.
Sheila drank and immediately felt a bit steadier. ''How did you find me?' she asked.
"That I came along was pure chance," Illyria answered. "I was simply scouting the area. It was I who should ask how you found me. My warriors and I are camped just over that hill. No one knows of our location. But I forget, you have your powers as a sorceress to guide you."
Sheila didn't even bother to protest that she was not a sorceress. She knew Illyria and the others were so firmly con­vinced of the fact that nothing would change their minds. "I don't know how to explain it," she said honestly. "I had a horrible nightmare that the unicorns were in danger. There was singing in the dream, and when I woke up, the music led me to this spot. That's when Mardock showed up.
Illyria's expression grew serious. ''Your connection with our band remains mighty. You have heard the sound of Pelu's song across the many miles."
Sheila felt a cold chill at the mere mention of the healer's name. “What has Pelu to do with it?" she asked. "Is something wrong with Morning Star?"
Illyria reflected a moment. "No, Morning Star seems fine for the present at least."
''What is it, then? What's going on here?"
''I'm not quite sure,'' Illyria admitted. ''Perhaps it is thing you can help us with."
"I'll do anything, you know that," Sheila said. "That's why I came back. Somehow I knew I was needed."
Illyria smiled. "Come," she said, helping Sheila to her feet. "They will be worried about me back at camp if I don't return soon. We will clean you up and feed you some break­fast, and then I will tell you everything."
Without being summoned, Quiet Storm walked forward to meet them. Sheila looked up at the strong white creature, his alabaster horn sitting regally on his forehead. He was the most majestic of all the unicorns. Sheila had been able to jump right up onto Morning Star's back, but Quiet Storm was so much bigger. His long legs were taller than Sheila herself.
Illyria laughed softly. "Up you go, ' she said, cupping her hands to give Sheila a boost. The women rode with only a saddle, using neither stirrups nor reins. Sheila stepped into Illyria's hands and was soon straddling Quiet Storm's broad back.
"My bags," she remembered.
Illyria picked up the spilled contents of Sheila's backpack and the black trash bag. "Shame on you, warrior-trained and carrying so much baggage," she chided playfully.
''I'll be rid of most of it soon," Sheila said, slightly embarrassed. "I've brought some things from my world for you and the others."
Illyria passed the bags up to Sheila and mounted Quiet Storm with one smooth movement. They were soon riding through the forest, up a thickly wooded incline. Gradually the woods began to thin out, and Sheila could see they were about to emerge into a meadow of rough yellowish grass with thistly purple flowers scattered in patches around the many low boul­ders.
Quiet Storm carried them over a patch of sloping rock and up to higher, flatter ground. It was then that Sheila saw a sight she had once thought she would never lay eyes on again—the camp of the Unicorn Queen.
Roughly hewn tents made of sticks, animal skins, and branches stood in a ring. In the center was a large, stone-­encircled campfire.
The first to spot their approach was Myno, Illyria's second-in-command. She had been hammering out an arrowhead with a large stone when she looked up. In a flash she was on her feet, shading her eyes against the morning sun.
"Look, everyone!" Illyria shouted as she brought Quiet Storm to a halt. "Come see whom I have found." The women left their tasks and gathered around Illyria. A surprised and happy murmur swept through the camp at the sight of Sheila.
"I knew you couldn't stay away," said Nanine with a smile. The tall black woman reached up gracefully to help Sheila down from Quiet Storm's back.
The next thing Sheila knew, she was being shoved on the shoulder by a rough but playful hand. "You missed the war­riors' life, eh, little one?" teased Myno, her strong, beefy arms folded solidly across her wide chest.
"I don't know about that, but I sure missed you," Sheila said, glad to be seeing the large woman with her short red hair once again. Myno could be gruff and irritable, but Sheila knew she had a soft heart.
"Meet the newest member of our group," said Myno.  "This is Zanara-Ki." Myno stretched her arm out and indi­cated a small but muscular woman standing just off from the group She had a light bronze complexion and wore a woven tunic of blue and green cut high on either side. Her jet-black hair was stick straight and fell just below her chin. Sleek bangs set off her dark almond eyes.
"Meet Sheila," Myno continued the introductions. "She's the group's sorceress and comes from who knows where."
Zanara-Ki nodded her head cordially. Sheila could see the woman was not a ready smiler. "Pleased to meet you," Sheila greeted her shyly. There was an aura of mystery around the woman which didn't encourage instant familiarity
"Zanara-Ki is a former slave, just as I am," Myno ex­plained proudly. "She was given to Dynasian by an emperor named Ankzar down south. We found her after the battle. She's little but tough, so we didn't give her any choice. We told her she just had to ride with us and teach us all her wild jumping tricks."
Illyria came up behind Sheila. "Zanara-Ki is from the lands over the eastern seas," she explained. "She has learned the eastern ways of fighting without weapons. The leaps and rolls I just used against Mardock's magic were all taught to me by Zanara-Ki."
Illyria bowed her head in Zanara-Ki's direction. "Your training may have saved my life today," she said. "I thank you.
"We will learn more at your convenience," Zanara-Ki an­swered simply.
"She's a little strange, but she grows on you," Myno whis­pered to Sheila. "And she fights like a tiger."
"Look who's back," came a taunting voice from behind Sheila.
"Hi, Dian," Sheila said before she even turned around.
Dian and Sheila had never been the best of friends. Although they had fought side by side and even gone on dangerous missions together, sixteen-year-old Dian was too naturally competitive to ever allow a friendship between them to blossom. She could never forgive Sheila for usurping her spot as the youngest in the group. And she was clearly jealous of the special attention Darian paid her.
Still, toward the end of their adventures together, Dian had shown Sheila a grudging respect, bordering on friendship. Sheila had even left her old pack behind with Dian as a ges­ture of good will. Sheila had been hoping they might be closer this time, but Dian's sarcastic greeting quickly dashed that idea.
"How have you been?" Sheila asked.
"I was fine," Dian answered, twisting a lock of her long brown hair around her finger. "Have you come to get your pack back?"
"No, I gave it to you. It's yours."
"Good, because you know you can't just show up and take back the things you left behind," Dian said, her voice heavy with meaning. "You can't-"
The clatter of hoofbeats drowned out the rest of Dian's words. Sheila followed the sound and saw a teenage boy astride an ebony unicorn approaching the camp. The rider drew his mount to a quick halt when he caught sight of Sheila. He didn't smile or dismount, but sat there staring out of dark expressionless eyes.
"Hello, Darian," Sheila said.

6
The Unicorns' Lament


Darian sat atop his unicorn, Wildwing, and continued to stare at Sheila. "You're back," he said at last.
"How have you been?" Sheila asked, unsettled by this less than warm greeting.
"We've been very busy," Darian answered as he dismounted and led Wildwing to drink from a large bucket of water. He dropped his eyes from Sheila's questioning gaze, and pretended to be engrossed in unsaddling the unicorn "Cam­pora was a shambles of a city. Rebuilding and reorganizing it has kept us all occupied. This is really the first time we've ridden out of the city as a group since the battle."
Sheila was confused. Darian wasn't exactly snubbing her, but he wasn't being friendly, either. After all they had shared and felt about each other, she hadn't expected this neutral reaction. What was wrong?
"When you're finished grooming Wildwing, will you tell me all about what's been happening?" she asked.
Darian gave her a sharp look and then turned away quickly. "I have some other chores and things to do,'' he said. "I don't think I'll have time."
"Darian!" Dian called from the spot where she knelt over a rolled fur-skin blanket. "Help me with this knot. I want to air this blanket cut."
 	 "Sure," he muttered.	
  Sheila scowled as she watched him head off in Dian's di­rection. Dian was always so possessive of Darian.
A soft whinnying distracted Sheila from her thoughts of Darian and Dian. She turned, and there stood Morning Star. The unicorn pranced over to Sheila and bent her head low, nuzzling Sheila's shoulder affectionately.
"I missed you so much, girl," Sheila murmured, running her hands through the unicorn's black mane and petting her broad white neck. “I've been so worried about you." Sheila stepped back and studied the animal. She seemed fine.
She was better than fine. Morning Star was clearly over­joyed to be reunited with Sheila. In her exuberance the uni­corn began circling around Sheila, occasionally kicking up her black-stockinged legs in a sort of welcoming dance.
"What a change in that sulky girl," commented Illyria, who stood watching the scene. "She has done nothing but mope around since you left, and has let no other ride her."
As if understanding Illyria's words, Morning Star stopped her dance right in front of Sheila. With a running jump Sheila leapt astride the unicorn. It felt so right to be sitting on top of her strong back once again.
Morning Star took off at a gallop. "Ya-haaah!" Sheila yelled as the rising sun warmed her back and the gentle breeze whipped her hair around her face. This was the feeling she had missed, the freedom and the wildness. She leaned forward, urging Morning Star on. Together they leapt high, soaring over a fallen tree that blocked their path. It was like flying.
Despite their separation, Sheila and Morning Star fell in­stantly back into the silent, intuitive communication they had shared from the moment they first met. Sheila had only to think of where she wanted to go, and Morning Star bolted in that direction. Finally they both decided to return to the cen­ter of camp and rest.
Exhilarated and filled with happiness, Sheila slid off Morning Star's back, "You haven't forgotten a thing," said Nanine, who had been watching Sheila ride. "Most riders who don't practice for six months grow clumsy."
"It hasn't been nearly that long in my world," Sheila told her. "And I've been riding horses at a stable at home. It's not the same, though, not the same at all."
"No, indeed," Nanine agreed. "A horse and a unicorn may look much alike, but they are very different beasts."
Sheila splashed water on Morning Star's coat as the uni­corn drank from a bucket. She remembered the carrots she had brought and dug into her garbage bag to find one for Morning Star. The unicorn gobbled up the rare treat so quickly that Sheila instantly fed her two more.
"I almost forgot—I brought presents for everyone," Sheila said, "I want everyone to be together when I give them out, though. Where is Pelu?"
Nanine's dark eyes took on a somber expression. ''Listen and you will hear her,'' she said. "She's singing to the sick unicorns."
Sheila concentrated and realized that Pelu's song—the song from her dream which had drawn her here—had been in her head all along. She had simply been too distracted to pay attention to it.
Now she heard it clearly once again. It was coming from behind her, to the right of the encampment, beautiful and high, sad, yet soothing "It's lovely, but I can't understand the words," Sheila said to Nanine.
Nanine shook her head. "It is some dialect from the high northlands. Pelu says it's a song her mother sang her long ago.
Sheila followed the sound with Morning Star beside her. They made their way down a grassy slope, and suddenly Sheila felt as though she were almost in her dream. She was heading into a tree-ringed grove where many unicorns stood. She could hear Pelu's voice, but could not see her.
She soon found the healer sitting and brushing the coat of a maple-colored unicorn colt who knelt before her look­ing dazed and tired. The woman with the gentle face and ash-blond braids was singing to the animal as a mother might soothe a small child who had awakened from a night­mare.
Pelu looked up when she heard footsteps approaching and smiled the same warm smile Sheila had taken comfort from so many times before. She didn't seem in the least surprised to see Sheila, just glad. She stopped singing and reached out to squeeze her hand in greeting. "I have been thinking of you as I sang to these poor ones,” she said. "I never doubted that one with your magic would hear me.”
Sheila followed PeIn's gaze and saw the "poor ones" she referred to. All around her, standing and kneeling, were uni­corns who looked very ill, their once-lustrous coats now dull, their wide eyes frightened and pain-filled.
"I did hear. I heard you and Morning Star both,” Sheila said quietly. She felt awed by the knowledge that they had in fact been calling to her. Her dreams were real. "What's wrong with these unicorns?" she asked.
Pelu sighed. "If only I knew, One by one they are losing their zest and growing increasingly weaker. It seems as if the very life were being drawn out of them. None of my herbs or root medicines has had any effect. I have tried everything that ever worked in the past, all to no avail. So I am reduced to sitting here and singing my song. It is supposed to ward off evil spirits. It is all I can think to do."
"Is that why you've been gone from Campora for so long?" Sheila asked.
"Yes. We can't just leave them here like this. So far not one has died, but the night before last I became so frightened for this one that I stayed up all night singing at the top of my voice and am almost afraid to stop." Pelu looked at Sheila, her blue eyes ringed red with sleeplessness. "I must stop sometime, though, for this is madness. I can't keep it up, and besides, I don't know if it is really doing any good."
"Why were you thinking of me?" Sheila asked.
"I was wondering if there was anything in your science magic that could help." Pelu smiled wearily at Sheila. "And I was missing your cheerfulness and good spirits at this hard time. I'm glad you're here."
"I am, too," Sheila told her. "But I can't think of any­thing to help you. I wish I were a vet."
"A what?" Pelu asked, still stroking the unicorn.
"That's what we call an animal doctor in my world. Maybe a vet would know what to do." But after a moment's thought Sheila decided it wouldn't matter much if she was a vet. She knew how powerful Pelu's homemade remedies were. If they couldn't do the job, maybe nothing could.
Sheila sat with Pelu as the healer resumed singing. The unicorns did seem comforted by her song. Even Morning Stat swayed her glistening black horn to its gentle rhythms.
Sheila looked up the slope dreamily and saw Zanara-Ki coming down toward them. She suddenly understood the mix­ture of curiosity and mistrust with which the other women had regarded her when she first joined their group. They were so tightly knit and interdependent that it wasn’t easy to ac­cept a newcomer,
"What do you think of our newest member?" Pelu stopped her singing long enough to ask.
"I only just met her,'' Sheila replied.
"It's wise to reserve judgment," Pelu said. "Zanara-Ki's life has not been easy. She was one of twins. She and her sister were taken into slavery when they were only girls and grew up in the court of Ankzar in Queelotoo. Ankzar greatly prized them as lovely dolls, dressing them in identical golden garments. But under that gilt they were strong as iron. Those who would attack Ankzar would first have to overcome these unlikely bodyguards: both twins had been trained in the fierce fighting ways of the east at a very young age!"
"Why did he give Zanara-Ki to Dynasian?" Sheila asked.
"It seems that the twins hated Ankzar about as much as everyone else does," Pelu continued. "One night Zanara-Ki's twin got the idea to murder Ankzar. To hear Zanara-Ki tell it, the sister was the more gifted fighter of the two and could have ripped Ankzar's heart from his chest. Unfortunately, Anicrar was saved by his soldiers. It took ten to subdue her. The sister was put to death, and Zanara-Ki was sent off to Campora."
"This is her first taste of freedom, then," Sheila observed.
"That's true " Pelu agreed. "When Dynasian heard of her fighting ability, he kept her in leg shackles. She…”
Pelu let her voice trail off as Zanara-Ki approached them. "I have come to tell you that a meal is being prepared, should you wish to partake of it," the ex-slave said in her low, soft voice.
"Thank you. Why don't you sit with us a moment," Pelu invited the woman.
Zanara-Ki didn't answer her. She was looking down at the unicorn colt Pelu was stroking. She seemed transfixed, her eyes filled with horror.
"What is it?" Pelu asked, alarmed.
Again Zanara-Ki was silent. Her gaze remained riveted on the unicorn colt, Sheila noticed that the woman's hands had started to tremble, "I have seen this before," Zanara-Ki whispered at last. "That colt shows all the signs."
Suddenly, as Sheila and Pelu watched, panic-stricken, the colt before them began to glow. It then fragmented into tiny, shimmering particles of intense light.
"No, not here," said Zanara-Ki in a low voice, "It can't be happening again. Not here."
Sheila took a step back, clutching Pelu's arm in terror.
"What is it?" Pelu asked the woman urgently. "Tell us what is happening."
"Not now," Zanara-Ki muttered. "No time to explain, or this one will be lost." And turning from Pelu, she held her two arms across each other and raised them in front of her face. In a low, chilling voice she began a strange incantation over the glowing unicorn. The words were unfamiliar to Sheila, and a quick glance at PeIn's astonished face told her that the healer did not recognize them, either.
"Azu kama teba non," Zanara-Ki intoned, her voice grow­ing ever higher with each strange syllable. "Son zinc keema yasay yasay." Zanara-Ki continued changing the mysterious words, her eyes growing ever wilder. She lowered herself into a squatting position over the unicorn, which continued to shimmer with a flickering light. But despite Zanara-Ki's efforts, the unicorn's glow was growing ever dimmer.
Placing her hands on the animal, Zanara-Ki shut her eyes, as if she were trying to suffuse the colt with her own life force. But the light continued to fade.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the unicorn disappeared. "No!" Zanara-Ki shrieked, her voice full of pain and an­ger. She raised her arms to the sky imploringly. "No!"


7

Spellbound

Alarmed by Zanara-Ki's screams, the women in the encamp­ment had come streaming over the hill, their weapons drawn for battle. They reached the grove just in time to see the unicorn colt vanish.
Gasps of horror swept through the group as Zanara-Ki cov­ered her face with her hands and sobbed. After a few minutes she gained control of herself and looked up at the others.
"I have seen this horror before," she spoke in a choked voice, "when I lived in Queelotoo. All the livestock in the area grew weak and disappeared—first the sheep, pigs, and goats, then the horses, then the chickens, everything. Next it affected the plants, and soon there was nothing to harvest. The people were starving. That is how Ankzar was able to enslave the surrounding areas so easily."
Pelu put her arm around Zanara-Ki, who had once again covered her face with her hands as if trying to block out the memories. "Is this some mighty plague?" Pelu asked.
"Or is it some foul magic?" asked Illyria as she stood sur­veying the rest of the herd.
"Some thought it a disease," Zanara-Ki told her. "But from the things I heard in Ankzarts palace, I know it was a spell. Local sorcerers tried to help the people by telling them the words I just spoke. Sometimes it worked. Mostly it didn't. Their magic was weak compared to the power of the spell."
"And what did Ankzar have to do with it?" Dian asked.
"That I do not know. I only know this curse did not touch his supplies. He seemed to have endless bounty. In fact, the more ravaged the countryside, the fuller the emperor's own stables and storage bins. Ankzar was served by a very powerful wizard, whom I am sure was responsible for this curse upon the people."
"Does this plague afflict the people still?" asked Myno.
Zanara-Ki shook her head. “The wizard was caught in a plot to overthrow Ankzar and put to death. The curse ended with his murder, but by then the people were too weak to fight. And those who had not been enslaved by Ankzar had grown too used to looking to him for their survival."
"I remember hearing rumors of this," said Nanine, who had once been a princess in a kingdom not far south of Queelotoo. "But Ankzar is many miles away—and, as you said, that wizard is now dead."
"Ankzar must have a new wizard," Zanara-Ki surmised, one who has traveled to this land."
Illyria and Sheila looked at each other. "Mardock!" they both said at once.
"Is there anyone in Queelotoo who knows how to break this spell?" Illyria asked urgently.
"The old wizard had a daughter named Simi. She used to assist him in all his spells, but she disappeared just before his murder. Some say she is dead; others say Ankzar keeps her a prisoner. No one really knows."
Suddenly all eyes turned back to the herd as a spotted mare with an ivory horn neighed pitifully and crashed to her knees. Pelu was instantly at her side. "We must somehow stop this," she said, running her hand through the animal's wheat-­colored mane.
"Look!” cried Dian, pointing to a kneeling black filly. The unicorn had already begun to shimmer, and the women watched in horror as it, too, slowly disappeared.
"Shadow!" gasped Pelu, who knew each unicorn by name.
"Myno, stay with the unicorns," commanded Illyria. "Pelu needs to rest.''
Sheila recognized the look on Illyria's face. She had seen it before. Illyria was concentrating on devising the best course of action. In a few hours she would have a plan. Until then she would seem distant and distracted.
“I want to stay," Pelu objected.
"No, I need rested warriors. Come and eat now. Everyone, back to the campsite."
Sheila looked for Morning Star and found her standing beside the spotted mare who had just fallen. Somehow Sheila knew there was a strong connection between the two uni­corns.
The spotted animal looked up at Morning Star wearily. Morning Star sputtered and beat the ground restlessly with her hoofs. "That's Eventide, Morning Star's sister," Pelu ex­plained as she headed up the hill with the others. "She's one of the unicorns we freed in Campora."
Morning Star looked at Sheila, her eyes filled with sad­ness. "You stay here, girl,” Sheila said soothingly. "I'll be close by." She patted Morning Star's neck and then knelt to look at Eventide. "Your sister's here with you," she said, rub­bing the unicorn between the ears. "And we'll  figure some way to get you well again, don't you worry.”
Sheila turned and walked with the others back to the campsite. She saw that Zanara-Ki had regained her composure and resumed her normal expressionless demeanor.
Dian and Darian walked side by side back up the slope. Sheila realized that Dian wasn't going to make it easy for her to have any time alone with Darian. She wondered if something had happened between those two in the time she had been gone—perhaps a romance had blossomed. She would just have to wait and see.
"A sad time to return to us, I'm afraid," said Nanine, coming up behind Sheila.
"I know," Sheila said. "I knew before I came.”
"I always said you held great magic within yourself, even when you doubted," Nanine declared. "I hope that now you believe it, too."
"I don't know what to think," Sheila admitted. It was true, Nanine had always maintained that the things in Sheila's pack were just tools to harness and direct the power within her. Sheila had thought Nanine was just superstitious. But maybe there was some truth to what she said.
"Well, in any case, I'm here," she said with a sigh, "for all the good it does anybody."
Nanine smiled. "It always does us good to have you with us, my friend. Never doubt that."
"Thanks. It's good to be here, no matter what," Sheila answered sincerely.
As the afternoon shadows lengthened, Sheila helped with some of the chores. She gathered wood for the night fire, carried up fresh water from a stream down below in the forest, and helped Nanine look for tailfeathers to replace those that had come loose from her arrows.
From time to time she stood at the top of the hill and looked down at the herd of unicorns. By sunset she saw that at least fifteen more unicorns were kneeling. She squinted and recognized Morning Star, still standing beside her sister. Intuitively sensing Sheila's gaze, Morning Star raised her head and whinnied unhappily.
Sheila took the last of the carrots from her bag, broke them into pieces, and carried them down to feed the fallen unicorns. "We lost three more since this morning," Myno told her. "I don't know what we can do about it, either."
"Illyrla's been in her tent all day. She'll think of something," Sheila said hopefully. "We saw Mardock today in the forest. Illyria didn't seem to think we'd seen the last of him. Maybe if he comes back we can get him to take this spell off the unicorns."
"Have you the magic to summon him?" Myno asked.
Sheila shook her head. "No, and in fact he has something of mine. He got away with the Tracker I need to call for Dr. Reit when I want to go home."
"Ah, Dr. Reit," said Myno, brightening.  “Perhaps his sci­ence magic has the answer.”
"Maybe so, but there's no way I can contact him without the Tracker." Sheila sat beside Myno, who had settled on a rock in the middle of the herd. The sunset cast a golden light on all the unicorns as they grazed or knelt in silence.
"You know, Mardock told me he sensed my return," Sheila said after a few minutes. "But I don't believe it. I think he was nearby because he was up to something with these uni­corns. I'm sure of it."
"I'm sure of it too," Myno agreed. "Now the question is, do we lay in wait for him or go out searching?"
"He might come back looking for me," Sheila said with a shudder. "He swore he'd get me.”
"Or he might be content for now with what he has and not want to take us all on at once," Myno said.
"That's true, too." Sheila said. For a while she and Myno sat quietly and watched the unicorns. Then the aroma of supper cooking wafted down the hill. It smelled delicious. "Why don't you go eat," Sheila offered. "I'll relieve you for a while."
"Thanks, but I'd rather stay," said Myno, shifting on her broad hips. "Have somebody send me down some food and I'll be fine. You go eat. Your weary face tells me you've had a long day."
Sheila realized she was very tired. A month of the easy life at home had softened her. Gratefully, she said good night to Myno.
When Sheila reached the top of the hill, she saw that the others were already gathered around the fire. Dian was dishing the food out from a tin bowl that had just been taken from the fire. Without a smile she handed a plateful to Sheila.
Sheila sat and looked at the charbroiled meat. The others held it in their hands and seemed to be enjoying it. She picked off a piece, and the tender meat fell apart easily in her hand. She tasted it. "This is good," she commented.
"Dian fixes snake very well," Nanine agreed.
"She would," Sheila replied dryly. Despite an initial surge of revulsion at the news that she was eating snake, it tasted as good as it smelled, and Sheila ate it.
After supper everyone sat around the glowing fire, as was their habit. They usually sang or told stories, but tonight there was silence as each one thought about the fate of the unicorns in the grove below. Illyria had come out of her tent only long enough to get some food and return inside.
"I brought some presents for you," Sheila told the others.
"Let's see," Nanine said eagerly. "All this glumness is doing the unicorns no good. This will cheer us up.”
Sheila dragged her bags near the fire and began going through them."I brought this gold eyeshadow and lip gloss for you, Nanine," she said holding out the makeup. It was nearly new. Cookie had convinced her to buy it, but Sheila had decided the glitter was too far-out for her sporty style.
Nanine took the two compacts into her strong, slender hands as if they were jewels. She snapped open the black plastic case of shadow and studied it. One half was a yellow gold, while the other was a shiny green-gold. "You know I love my gold powder," she said, referring to the loose gilt face powder she always wore at her temples and cheeks. "But I have never seen anything like this. It's so smooth. And what is this case made of? Is it a shell of some kind?"
"It's plastic," Sheila answered. "I can't really explain where it comes from, but it's made by people."
"Made by good wizards, no doubt," said Nanine. "Thank you."
Next Sheila gave Pelu the first-aid kit, Pelu sorted through the bandages, burn cream, and antiseptic spray. "It all looks quite wonderful1" she said happily, "and light enough to carry tied to my saddle. You must explain it all to me, especially these marvelous little knives." She held up a small pair of scissors.
Sheila placed the sneakers she was saving for Myno to one side. Then she pulled out a red case she'd brought for Dian. In it was a pocket mirror that lit up on either side when it was opened. "This is for you," she said.
Dian took the case and snapped it open. "Oh!" she gasped, despite herself. And she grinned at her reflection in the mirror with obvious delight before she remembered to be cool. Then "Thank you," she said stiffly.
"I thought you'd like this," Sheila said to Darian, pulling a T-shirt from her bag. She'd gotten it at a rock concert when she went to see the group Crazy Water. Silkscreened on the front was a cowboy on a brown unicorn. The unicorn was rearing up on its hind legs under a waterfall as the cowboy swung his hat exuberantly in the air.
Darian's eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. "Is this what warriors wear in your world?" he cried in wonder, his sulky frown replaced by a genuine smile of pleasure.
"Well, sort of. Some of them, anyway," Sheila answered.
"And you never told me they have unicorns where you live," he added, pulling the shirt over his head.
“We don't," she said. "We just dream about them."
"This is a wonderful, wonderful garment. It fits me and it's so soft and comfortable," he said proudly. He grew sud­denly shy and lowered his gaze. "Thank you, Sheila," he fin­ished simply.
''You're welcome,'' she replied. ''I bought it because it reminded me of you somehow."
To hide a sudden blush, Sheila turned back to her bag. "I brought these hard candies for Kara and Lianne," she said to Zanara-Ki. "But I'll find something for them later. Please ac­cept the gift as my way of saying I'm happy to meet you.”
Zanara-Ki held up her hand and shook her head no,
"We're all just going to eat them up if you don't take them," teased Nanine. "We'll probably eat them up even if you do take them."
A quick smile flashed across Zanara-Ki's stern face and then disappeared. "In that case I will gladly accept them to share with one and all."
“Good," said Sheila, handing her the cellophane-wrapped packages. "One bag is butterscotch, and the other is pepper-mint. They're my favorites."
''I see you've saved the best gift for yourself," said Dian.
"What are you talking about?" Sheila asked.
"That beautiful shiny black sack," Dian said, pointing to the trash bag.
"The garbage bag?" cried Sheila, holding up the crumpled plastic. Actually, she admitted to herself, it would have a lot of uses in this world. It could be a waterproof poncho, ground-cloth, or tent covering. "Here, it's yours," she said, impul­sively handing the bag to Dian.
Dian immediately tore the sack down the front and tied it around her shoulders as a cape. "It feels funny,” she laughed, pleased with her new outfit.
At that moment Illyria emerged from her tent and walked slowly over to the fire. Her face was serious, but it softened slightly when she saw her warriors' smiles.
"What have you brought for Illyria?" shouted Dian.
"Here's a figurine I bought to remind me of you," Sheila said, pulling a small ceramic statue from her backpack. It was a white unicorn with a silver horn, rearing up on its hind legs.
Illyria took the statue and studied it. ''It is lovely indeed. I thank you," she said. "Look at the fine details," she mar­veled “It is as if Quiet Storm posed for it himself,"
The mere mention of the unicorn broke the light mood. All eyes turned to their leader. "I have come up with a course of action," Illyria announced, the campfire reflecting dramat­ically off her high cheekbones. "Since there are many possi­bilities here, I want to cover each of them. Therefore, Nanine and Myno will ride back to Campora and consult with Laric. Let him know what is happening, and see if his powers as a mage can aid us in this."
"I'll go tell Myno," Nanine said, rising immediately.
"Pelu and Dian will stay with the sick unicorns," Illyria continued. "I think it best not to move them, weak as they are right now.”
"Let Sheila stay," Dian argued. "I don't want to sit around. I want to do something."
Illyria shot her a stern look. "There will be plenty for you to do if these animals have to be moved suddenly," she said. "We don't know what threats tomorrow holds."
Dian nodded sullenly, knowing it would do no good to argue further.
"Darian, Sheila, and Zanara-Ki will ride with me to Queelotoo. I need Zanara-Ki's knowledge of the area, and Sheila's magic, should we encounter Mardock.”  Noticing Darian's expectant expression, Illyria added, "And I need my brother's support as always. I know he is a strong rider for such a long, hard trip."
Illyria abruptly kicked some dirt over the fire, "To sleep," she said. "We rise at dawn tomorrow, and the day promises to be a full one."

8

Stops Along the Way

The dawn exploded with pink and golden light. Sheila felt a rush of excitement as she placed the saddle on Morning Star's back. This was what she had missed, the thrill of preparing for a hard ride, not knowing what lay ahead.
Morning Star snorted, and her sister, Eventide, looked up and weakly shook her tan head. It was as if the two unicorns were bidding one another goodbye
Sheila pulled herself up onto Morning Star and trotted over to the edge of the hill. Pelu had resumed her position in the middle of the herd, offering what comfort she could to the fallen unicorns. The healer waved when she saw Sheila.
"Ready to ride?" asked Myno, trotting over on her palo­mino unicorn.
Sheila looked down at the black sneakers Myno wore. "Do they fit?" she asked, smiling at the unlikely sight of this ar­mored warrior in high-tops.
"Like a dream," Myno told her. "These are truly like no footwear I have ever known."
"I remembered how you always complain about your ach­ing feet," said Sheila. "They're my father's, but I'll replace them as soon as I get home." Silently Sheila wondered when that would be. She hoped she would at least make it back before nine o'clock as she had promised.
She pushed that thought away—the time difference always boggled her mind. And besides, right now she had to con­centrate on the task before her. Illyria had taught her not to expend her energies worrying about too many things at once.
"Are you ready?'' the Unicorn Queen called to Sheila from atop Quiet Storm, Her red tunic and silver armor were in place, her long blond hair twined in braids for the ride ahead.
"Ready," Sheila confirmed.
"Then let us be off." Illyria rode into the middle of the camp. 'Good luck to you all in your various missions," she told the others.
"And a safe journey to you," spoke Nanine as she saddled her unicorn.
"Send Laric my love," Illyria said. "Tell him it is my dearest wish to return to him shortly. If time were not so crucial, I would not leave without saying good-bye."
"I am sure he will understand," said Nanine before she and Myno galloped off into the forest toward Campora.
Then Illyria turned to Dian, who was standing near last night's smoldering fire and glaring at Sheila.
"Dian, I am counting on you to assist Pelu in any way possible," she told the girl. "Should you come under attack, remember my instructions. You must drive the unicorns who are fit into the woods. Leave the ones who are ill to fend for themselves. And whatever happens, be alert to danger, for Mardock knows where these animals are."
Bolstered by the knowledge that Illyria was depending on her, Dian squared her shoulders and assumed a self-important expression. "You know you can rely on me.
Illyria nodded sharply in agreement just as Darian and Zanara-Ki rode their unicorns up to Sheila. The Unicorn Queen gave the signal, and all four took off at a gallop. Hav­ing seen Laric's map, Sheila knew they had a long journey of several days ahead of them. Illyria would be riding as hard as the landscape allowed.
The thunder of unicorn hoofs filled Sheila's ears. It was a sound that never failed to thrill her. There was nothing like it in the world—this or any other Sheila leaned forward in the saddle, a silent message for Morning Star to race even faster.
They rode through the forest and down to an open road. In the past they had ridden at night or kept to the back roads and mountains to avoid being sighted by Dynasian's soldiers. But now that Dynasian had been defeated, they were free to take the wide highways that sprawled around Campora. Ahead lay territory and people who might be less than friendly, but for the moment, at least, there was little danger.
They rode for a full day, stopping only briefly to eat. In the evening they camped on a mountainside. By then every muscle in Sheila's body was knotted and aching, and her mind was numbed with exhaustion. After a supper of vegetables and bread, Sheila wandered down an incline toward a wide, rush­ing river to soak her throbbing legs.
She kicked off her dirt-covered sneakers and stuck her feet into the river. At first the water felt so cold it was painful. Gradually, though, she grew accustomed to it, and the icy swirl began to soothe the pain.
Sheila stepped out of her jeans, which were caked with mud. It was amazing how dirty you could get on a long ride. She swooshed the jeans around in the river and then tossed them onto a low bush to dry. Her long T-shirt fell almost to her knees and fluttered in the gentle breeze that had come up just after sunset.
A large half moon hung low in the sky. It splashed shim­mering channels of light across the churning river. Tired as she was, the rushing moonlit water and the hoot of an owl somewhere in the woods put Sheila into a sort of sleepy trance.
She sat on a low, cool rock and let the water splash up over her legs. She felt at one with the world around her; as wild and natural as the river and the owl, with just as much right to be there as the moon itself.
A rustling in the underbrush roused Sheila from her peaceful reverie. She turned, and in the half-light saw Darian stand­ing behind her. They had hardly spoken since her first day back.
"You startled me," she said. "Stick your feet in the water. It feels great.”
But Darian just stood there. He looked as if he wanted to come sit beside her, but something was stopping him—almost as if he were afraid of her. ''Illyria sent me to make sure you were all right," he finally said.
"I'm okay, just zonked," she answered.
The blank look on his face made her smile. "Zonked means real tired," she explained.
"Zzzzzonked," he said, stretching the word out. "That's a funny word. I'm zonked myself. I'm going back to camp.
“Don't you want to sit for a minute?" Sheila asked.
Again, he seemed torn between the impulse to stay and an urge to escape. "I have to go," he answered flatly.
"Whatever you say," Sheila said, just as flatly. What is wrong with that boy? she wondered as she watched him disap­pear into the darkness. They had been so close when she left, and now he was so distant.
After a while, Sheila slid off the rock, grabbed her jeans, and slipped into her sneakers, then headed back up to camp. Zanara-Ki and Darian were already rolled in their blankets, sound asleep. Illyria was near the fire, staring into the orange flames. She looked up as Sheila approached. "Everything all right?" she asked.
Sheila nodded and settled on her blanket. "I'm just not used to riding like we did today," she answered.
"It was a hard ride for even the most fit."	
"Are you all right?" Sheila asked, pulling the soft blanket around herself.
"I was just thinking of Laric and how I miss him," Illyria answered. "Life in the city makes me restless. I stay there only to be near him. When I'm in the city, I miss the wild life. But when I'm in the wilderness, I miss my love."
"Can't he leave Campora?" Sheila asked, fighting sleep.
"Maybe someday," Illyria answered dreamily. "My fantasy is that we will live together on top of a mountain with herds of unicorns wandering freely around us. We wouldn't be ruler and warrior, just Laric and Illyria, happy forever."
"Why don't you do it?" Sheila asked, stifling a yawn.
"Because Laric is committed to making Campora a strong, self-sufficient kingdom, and I must help him. I must also make sure these animals run free and stay strong. I thought I had that part all taken care of—and now this strange curse.
Sheila watched Illyria's beautiful face as the dying fire threw flickering shadows across it. She had never known any­one with so much passion for life. Illyria fought for those she loved without reservation: Laric, her unicorns, her friends. She could be tougher than the most seasoned general, yet tender and gentle as an angel.
The next morning brought more hard riding. By late af­ternoon the band of four had left the wide flat highways for a tangle of rocky paths that wound through giant uprisings of black silver-specked volcanic rock. The rock was marked with small and large craters and peaked in sharp, jagged points over their heads. The tall green foliage gradually gave way to coarse shrubs.
The unicorns slowed to a trot where the gaps between the rocks narrowed. Soon the pebbles under their feet changed to sandy ground. And finally Sheila felt a cool, salt breeze and was sure she heard the crashing of waves somewhere in the distance.

They began to descend and had to go even more slowly.  Finally Illyria called a halt on a flat table of dry sandy land protected by a circular uprising of black rock. 'This seems a good place to make camp," she said.
Sheila dismounted and walked to the far opening of the round enclosure. Salt air tickled her nose. Huge waves crashed on the shore below, and seagulls soared across the windswept sky. It was a steep rocky drop to the sea, but Sheila spotted a winding path that they could ride down if they went very slowly. She was seized with the desire to cool off near the shore, to feel the ocean spray on her sunburned skin.
"Can I go down by the water?" she asked.
"That's a good idea," said Illyria, pulling her saddle from Quiet Storm's back. "Scout around, see what you can see. But I don't want you going alone. You'd best take Darian with you.
Sheila looked over at him. He shrugged his broad shoul­ders in a gesture that said it didn't matter to him, and jumped back on Wildwing.
The two unicorns made their way down the narrow path, stumbling slightly on the loose pebbles and wet sand under­foot. At the bottom Sheila lifted her face to the sea breeze. She was instantly refreshed by its coolness and by the ocean's surging energy.
Mischievously, Sheila turned to Datian. "You were lag­ging behind the others today," she teased, although it wasn't true. "It's a shame because you used to be such a good rider."
"I'm as good a rider as any," he protested, taking the bait. "I can outride you any time,"
"Prove it," Sheila challenged. And with a signal to Morn­ing Star she was off, racing down the shore at full gallop. Darian was right behind her, and soon they were neck and neck. Each rode all out, determined not to let the other pull ahead.
Two large rocks stood side by side across their paths. Sheila rose and leaned forward, tightly clutching Morning Star's black mane. In seconds the unicorn was sailing over the rock. Out of the corner of her eye, Sheila saw Wildwing and Darian make the leap right beside her.
They raced for ten minutes before the wide shoreline nar­rowed to a path that only one could travel. Both riders pulled up to it at the same time.
"There, I beat you,” Darian declared.
"You did not," Sheila said indignantly.
"Look at that hoofprint in the sand," Darian argued. "It's Wildwing's and it's ahead of the others,"
"That's Morning Star's," insisted Sheila, "But how about calling it a tie.”
"Sure. If that will make you feel better," Darian chuckled.
Sheila knew that now he was teasing. "That seems fair to me," she agreed. "What do you say we walk these unicorns back and let them cool down."
They dismounted and turned around, the unicorns follow­ing at a walk behind them. Sheila gave Darian a sidelong glance and smiled. Whatever tension had been between them no longer existed, Sheila could feel it.
"Darian," she said quietly, "have I done something to offend you? You've been so strange since I came back. What­ever it is, I'm really sorry. Tell me, and I'll never do it again."
Darian smiled sadly. "You aren't sorry—and you are going to do it again."
"What? Please tell me," she pleaded, feeling her heart skip a beat as he stopped walking and faced her.
"You went away," he said, "and you're going to leave again." Sheila also stopped, stunned. "But I had to, I have to."
"I know," he answered, reaching out and wrapping a strong wide hand around her arm. "But it hurt when you left. I missed you. I don't want to go through that hurt all over again. So I decided it would be better to feel nothing toward you.”
"Is that what you feel? Nothing?"
"You knew how I feel," he answered gruffly.
Sheila was elated. He still cared! Yet his words were all too true. How could they ever really be together?
"I don't know the answer, Darian," she said, looking up into his handsome face. "Maybe we'll just have to make do with the time we have. Surety there's no sense pretending we don't mean anything to each other. I thought about you con­stantly after I went home."
"And you were always in my head," he said, stepping closer. In the next second he was holding her tight and kissing her. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She was so glad to be in his arms.
Pthhhhhhiiwap! The sound made Sheila and Darian jump apart. There, embedded in the sand, almost at their feet, was an arrow with a flaming tail.
At first they had no idea where it had come from. Then, slowly, they saw a man rise up from behind a black rock. He held a bow pulled taut in his hands with another flaming arrow pointing their way.
"What the-" Sheila gasped. The man wore nothing but a flap of material that hung from his waist to his knees. His bright yellow hair stuck straight out like a wild halo. And, except for a yellow racoonlike mask around his eyes, his skin was completely blue.

9

The Hickorites

“He's got a friend, too!" whispered Darian as a second man stepped out from behind a nearby rock. He was striped in many bright colors from head to foot, And he, too, held a bow and. flaming arrow poised and ready to shoot. No sooner had he shown himself than yet a third man, this one with bright red skin and long straight orange hair, appeared.
"Eh-ett-eli-eli~eeeelihlihhheeeej'' trilled the orange man in a high frightening voice.
"What is he saying?" whispered Darian.
"I have no idea," murmured Sheila, "but I say we get out of here—fast!" But even as she and Darian inched their way backward toward the unicorns, the striped man let his arrow fly It narrowly missed Sheila's cheek and whizzed just over Morning Star's saddle into the ocean.
"Let's go!" shouted Darian, jumping up onto Wildwing. In a flash Sheila had mounted Morning Star and was racing down the shoreline beside him.
Another flaming arrow flew just in front of Morning Star's nose, causing the unicorn to rear back. "Okay, girl, it's okay. Just keep going," urged Sheila, not quite sure if she was talk­ing to her unicorn or to herself!
Luckily, the strange men were on foot and their arrows soon fell well short of their targets. By the time Sheila and Darian reached the steep path back up to the encampment, there was no sign of the three attackers.
Wordlessly, Sheila and Darian climbed up to the flat, sandy patch where Illyria and Zanara-Ki had already built a fire. "What is it?" Illyria asked when she saw their frightened faces.
Darian leaped from Wildwing's back. "There are strange men down on the shore," he reported, quickly describing the multicolored men and their flaming arrows.
"We've come farther south than I realized," said Zanara­Ki, who had been listening to his story as she stacked wood on the fire.
"Do you know who these guys are?" asked Sheila.
"They are the Hickorites, a tribe that lives in rock caves. They are sometimes called the People of the Black Sea Rock. I should have realized from the darkness of this rock that we were getting close to them."
"They are clearly not friendly to outsiders," Illyria thought aloud. "Perhaps we should travel past them by night."
"Not at all," said Zanara-Ki. "The Hickorites hate Ankzar passionately. Their numbers were once fourfold what they are now, but Ankzar's armies wiped them out. The only Hickor­ites who survived are these, who traveled north to escape him. They are a warm and hospitable people."
Darian hooted in disbelief. "Warm and hospitable!" he repeated, pushing up the short sleeve of his brown tunic to reveal a red burn where a flaming arrow had grazed him. "Is this a mark of their friendship?"
Sheila winced and had to avert her eyes at the sight of the painful-looking burn. Illyria immediately tore a strip of material from the hem of her tunic and, soaking it with water, began tending her brother.
"They thought you were spirits," explained Zanara-Ki.
"Why would they think that?" asked Sheila skeptically.
"Because it is their belief that only the dead venture over the land with unpainted faces and bodies."
“Was that paint on them?" asked Darian through teeth clenched in pain as Illyria wrapped the makeshift bandage over his burn. "I thought maybe they were really that color."
"No, the Hickorites all paint themselves. The warriors are especially colorful," Zanara-Ki explained. "They even dye their hair.''
"We saw," grumbled Darian.
"If they thought we were ghosts, how come they weren't afraid?" asked Sheila as she held a plate of water up to Morn­ing Star. "They didn't exactly run off screaming at the sight of us.
“I'm sure they were terrified," said Zanara-Ki. "But it is the Hickorite way not to run from anything, not even the dead. The fact that Ankzar forced them to flee is one of the many reasons they loathe him so intensely."
''Did they think Ankzar and his soldiers were ghosts?" Sheila wondered.
"No, though they wear it very differently, the people of Queelotoo all apply some small amount of face paint."
"How do you suggest we approach these Hickorites, then?" asked Illyria.
"With painted faces and bodies, of course."
Illyria gazed up at the sky. "There are yet several hours of daylight left to us," she said. "We shall first paint ourselves and then go pay a call on our colorful neighbors. If they are indeed friendly, we may bed there more comfortably. If they are unfriendly . . . the darkness of night will cloak our escape.”
"The Hickorites use natural dyes to paint themselves said Zanara-Ki. "I suggest we do the same,
Sheila followed Zanara-Ki back down the steep path to the ocean, where they collected various rocks that Zanara-Ki identified as suitable to their purpose. Meanwhile, after com­manding Darian to rest, Illyria went into the woods to pick some colorful berries.
Back at camp Zanara-Ki took two smooth burnt-orange rocks and poured a little water over one of them. She rubbed the wet rock very hard with the second rock until it gave off a coppery paste, which she used to draw an orangish line down the center of her forehead.
Zanara-Ki then rubbed two white and yellow speckled rocks together. These gave off a deep brown-yellow paste. She reached out and traced a line under Sheila's eyes, across her nose, and over her other eye. "That's a Hickorite warrior mark," she explained.
Illyria beat some red and blue berries on two separate rocks until there were two piles of pulp. Using her fingers she smeared her own forehead, first with a broad line of blue, then with a red line directly below it.
"I just thought of something," said Sheila. Digging in her pack she pulled out a small round container of iridescent purple-colored zinc oxide she had tossed in as an afterthought. "Come here," she said, leaning over to Darian and painting his nose bright purple.
“What's that?" he asked, twitching his nose.
"It's stuff we use at home to keep from getting sun­burned,'' she told him. "They just make it purple for a goof."
"A what?"
"For the fun of it," she explained.
"Your people sound very strange sometimes," he said.
Sheila thought about that for a moment. "I guess in some ways they are.”
A half hour later Sheila was riding single file with the others up a steep, sandy path. Their destination was a moun­tain of volcanic rock which stood wide and flat-topped against the sky. Illyria and Zanara-Ki had surmised that since it was so large, it probably held the most caves and was where the Hickorites lived.
Sheila's face was slashed with color from the berries and rocks, and she had used the ash of a burnt piece of wood to rim her eyes in black. The makeup made her feel wild and fierce. She suddenly understood why people in her world had once put on war paint. She felt transformed into another, more ferocious self.
Sheila had to admit that her friends looked almost fright­ening with their newly painted faces and bodies. Illyria had smeared her arms with blue and run the purple zinc oxide through her blond hair in streaks. Zanara-Ki wore mostly or­ange and yellow in lines of various thicknesses, and Darian had painted himself in a camouflage pattern of purple and yellow. In a strange and scary way Sheila thought it made him look extremely handsome and dangerous.
So far no more flaming arrows had whistled past them, but Sheila couldn't get over the feeling of being watched. By the time they reached the flat base of the mountain, the sun was setting, washing everything in gentle blues and pinks. They pulled their unicorns up into a row and stood, listening. All they could hear was the distant crashing of the waves below them. Then Quiet Storm neighed and waved his head off to the right.
They looked in that direction and saw three figures scram­ble out of openings in the rock. Their leader was a large man covered in red dye with a long mane of tangled yellow hair that fell to his waist. He said something in a language Sheila couldn't understand
Illyria dismounted and met him. "We come as friends," she said in her own language.
"I know your tongue," the man said. "I will speak it with you. Why do you seek us?"
Illyria explained the reason for their journey. The man who said his name was Tingwa shook his head sadly when he heard what was happening to their unicorns. "All the great Hickorite herds of horses were lost in that way. That is why you see us on foot here today."
He walked over to Morning Star and peered into her blue eyes. Sheila was surprised that the unicorn held still while he pulled down her lower lip. "As I thought, this one has the beginnings of the weakness. I see signs of it in all your beasts," he told Illyria. "It is early, but sadly I tell you these animals will fall as all their brothers and sisters are now falling."
Sheila stroked Morning Star's neck. She felt a sick knot in her stomach at the man's words.
"That is why we must reach Queelotoo as quickly as pos­sible and stop this evil," Illyria spoke bravely.
"Come," said Tingwa. "I can help you. You will bed with us this night. Leave your beasts here. They will be safe, and there is no pathway wide enough for them to climb."
The group dismounted and unsaddled, then put out food and water for the unicorns. "Rest, Morning Star," Sheila crooned, trying to push her fears for the unicorn out of her mind. She knew Morning Star was sensitive to her every thought, so she was determined to be strong and positive-thinking.
They followed Tingwa and his warriors into an opening in the mountain from which he had come. It was dark and cool inside the rock as they made their way up a steep path. At some points they were almost climbing hand over hand.
Finally they emerged onto a ridge about forty feet wide. Set behind it was a series of deep, wide-mouthed caves. All around the ridge, brightly painted people dressed in coarse brown cloth did the everyday tasks of living—cooking, bath­ing, mending clothing.
Tingwa led Illyria's band inside a cave and sat them down to a simple but tasty meal. The food was served by a small woman with braided black hair who wore several yellow stripes under her eyes. She seemed to be Tingwa's wife.
Sheila could see that the warriors were indeed painted more vibrantly than the average person. She found the little children especially adorable with quick dabs of color spotted on their cheeks and foreheads.
After the meal Tingwa settled back on a great bearskin rug. "You are in luck, for this night our scouts will be return­ing from Queelotoo. We sent them to make sure Ankzar is not moving into our territory and to aid our allies who may come under attack. They will bring you news of what to ex­pect in that wicked land of evil."
Tingwa's wife returned with several young girls who were obviously her daughters. Giggling and ducking their heads shyly, the girls set out thick, furry blankets for their guests.
A few minutes later a boy of about sixteen or seventeen entered the cave. Tingwa rose and embraced him, and the two exchanged a few words in their own language. Their re­semblance was so strong that Sheila could tell the boy was Tingwa's son. Like his father, he was painted red from his head to his waist. He wore trousers made of the same coarse material that most of the people wore. Unlike his father's, this boy's hair was cut short.
''My father tells me you ride against Ankzar," the boy said, speaking to them in their language. His almond-shaped brown eyes took them all in. When his gaze fell upon Sheila, he held it there a little too long, causing her to turn away shyly. Despite his red paint, he had a certain proud attrac­tiveness—and he seemed to know it.
Darian stood. "Yes, we have overthrown Dynasian to the north, and we will undo this tyrant as well,'' he boasted.
The boy eyed Darian suspiciously. "You are the leader of these women?"
Darian looked uncomfortable. "We ride as companions and equals," he said. He glanced quickly to Illyria, who nod­ded her head ever so slightly to indicate that she wouldn't challenge that statement.
"I see," said the boy with a hint of mockery in his tone.
"Vasim," Tingwa spoke in a deep austere voice. "The day that you are a full warrior and grow your hair, then you may challenge another man." Humbled, Vasim bowed his head to his father, but he shot an angry glare at Darian.
"My son has just returned from the land of our enemies," Tingwa explained to Darian. And then, turning to Vasim, "Tell us what you have learned," he commanded.
Vasim went on at some length about the dangers he and his scouting party had encountered in Queelotoo. Each story seemed to feature Vasim as the brave hero who saved the day. And each was directed toward Sheila, who tried not to meet his fiery eyes. Though she found him unbearably arrogant, she couldn't help but be flattered by his obvious admiration of her.
"I am proud of your bravery, my son," said Tingwa impa­tiently, "but have you learned anything that will aid our friends in their pursuit?''
Vasim thought a moment, and then his eyes lit up. "Ah, yes. Ankzar has made contact with a great and mysterious god of the future. The god was lured down to the world by Ank­zar’s new wizard and captured!"
Sheila gasped in horror as the full meaning of Vasim's words hit her.
"What is it?" Illyria asked.
"It's Dr. Reit!" Sheila cried. "Mardock has himi"

10

Across the Unknown Sea

"It's got to be Dr. Reit!" Sheila cried. "I can't believe I've put him in such terrible danger."
"How can you be sure?" Illyria asked, concerned.
"It's got to be. Mardock has the Tracker, and somehow he must have pushed the right buttons to contact Dr. Reit. For some reason Dr. Reit came through the transporter instead of bringing Mardock to him."
Sheila knew the scientist had come through assuming that she was on the other end of the signal. She couldn't bear to imagine his shocked surprise when he found the evil Mardock waiting to greet him. Mardock considered the scientist an even more potent sorcerer than Sheila. There was no telling what he would do to force Dr. Reit to reveal his scientific secrets.
"This is all the more reason for us to hurry to Queelotoo," Illyria said urgently to Tingwa. “This great god of the future is a friend who has aided us many times. Now we must repay the debt and rescue him."
Tingwa was clearly impressed to hear that they were so friendly with a god. "I will make my very own barge available to you. Vasim will guide you safely over the waters. It is the fastest way to Queelotoo. Now let us rest."
Tingwa stood and beckoned his son to follow him to the front of the cave. There they conferred quickly, apparently discussing plans for the next day's journey.
"This is all my fault, all my fault," Sheila said.
"Are you really friend to a god?" asked Zanara-Ki, who had been sitting quietly beside Sheila all the while.
"No, he's just a very brilliant, very terrific man who is now in a load of trouble thanks to me,” Sheila answered, twisting her hands anxiously.
"Dr. Reit is brave and good," said Illyria, "and we will make it our first priority to find him."
Sheila smiled weakly at Illyria. "Thanks."
"Rest now, everyone, for we will be up before dawn and on our way," Illyria commanded, lying back on her blanket. She clasped her hands behind her head and stared at the ceil­ing of the cave. Sheila knew her mind was racing ahead, trying to anticipate the morning's possible dangers.
"I don't see why that Vasim has to come with us," mut­tered Darian as he wrapped himself in his blanket.
"He knows his way around, I guess," Sheila suggested.
"I'm sure you’d love to have that conceited idiot along to make dreamy eyes at you the whole way," Darian growled.
Sheila opened her mouth to defend herself, but then re­alized what was really bothering Darian: he was jealous of Vasim! Smiling to herself, she flipped a corner of her blanket over her legs and went to sleep.

The next morning they set out just before dawn. Silently Tingwa led his guests down the rock tunnel to their unicorns.  They quickly saddled up and rode to the shore.
Rocking gently, just beyond the breaking waves, was a broad, flat barge. Ten colorfully painted Hickorite warriors were preparing it for its journey, taking on provisions, pulling up broad sails and tying them in place. Vasim stood waving on the deck.
The small band dismounted and walked their unicorns through the surf and up onto the barge by way of a grooved ramp that had been lowered into the water, Then they climbed aboard themselves. Sheila noticed that her bright coloring had all but washed off, but apparently there was enough left to satisfy Vasim, who reached down with a strong arm and helped her up the slippery ramp.
"A fleet of these barges carried our people to safety," said Tingwa, climbing aboard with them. "May this ship bring you safely to your destination."
"My deepest thanks," Illyria said sincerely.
Tingwa nodded before embracing his son. And then, with no further ceremony, he dived off the boat and disappeared into the foaming surf, until he reappeared once again on shore.
In moments the barge was under way. At first the sails flapped back and forth violently in the crosswinds near shore. The warriors used oars to row out to the open sea, where the sails finally caught the wind, billowing fully.
From then on, the barge was remarkably swift as it coursed through the water. There wasn't much room aboard, but Sheila found a place to perch atop a large bag of provisions.
Vasim settled down beside her. "You have a great beauty," he told her directly.
Sheila looked away, embarrassed. She knew she was okay looking, but she had never thought of herself as a great beauty. She liked the way it sounded.
"How long a trip will this be?" she asked, to change the subject.
"We reach shore at nightfall," he said tersely, before re­turning to more personal matters. "There is something different about you," he pressed. "I have never seen a female such as yourself. You wear the look of great innocence but of great knowing. You confuse me."
Sheila was beginning to feel pretty confused herself. She had no idea how to reply. "How is it you and your father speak our language?" she asked, in another attempt to shift his focus away from her.
Vasim stuck his chest out proudly. "My father is from a line of great leaders. He is the keeper of all the collected knowledge of our tribe. He knows many languages. As his son and successor, he is teaching me all he knows."
"Don't you have books?"
Vasim looked at Sheila blankly. "Here, like this," she said, pulling her picture-history book from her pack. Vasim opened the book, and his eyes went wide with wonder.
"So, Vasim has never read a book before, eh?" came a surly voice nearby. Sheila looked up and saw that Darian had changed into the T-shirt she had given him.
"Can you read this?" Vasim asked defiantly.
"Of course I can," Darian bluffed. Sheila shot him a shocked look. She knew he could read his own language, but she was fairly sure he couldn't read hers.
Darian took the book from Vasim. "See, it says here that this is a bird that flies and carries people in its belly and then spits them out when they arrive at their destination," he said, pointing to a picture of a jumbo jetliner.
Vasim looked to Sheila. "Is this true?"
''Well," Sheila said, ''in a way, I guess."
"And here is a picture of a million lightning bugs trapped in a glass which is used to light rooms," Darian continued, showing Vasim a photo of a lightbulb.
Vasim took the book back from Darian and studied it. "The artists in your world are very accurate," he said. "I see it is a world filled with magic. No wonder you have the look of a great wise one shining forth from your sea-dark eyes."
"Her eyes are none of your business," Darian snarled.
The Hickorite narrowed his own eyes and smirked at Darian as he rose to his feet. "Have you claimed this female as your own?"
Darian looked quickly at Sheila. "Yes," he said hesitantly.
"Is she your wife?" Vasim continued.
"No, but . . . she's spoken for."
"I think she might prefer a chieftain's son. Vasim poked Darian hard on the shoulder. Darian poked back.
Up until now Sheila had been enjoying Darian's jealousy and the thrill of being fought over, but this was going too far. "Stop!" she shouted. "No one claims me. I belong to my­self.''
Both boys looked at her with stunned expressions. She felt suddenly awkward. "I want to see if Morning Star is all right," she said abruptly as an excuse to make her escape.
Walking over to her unicorn, who was facing the wide ocean, Sheila put her arm up over the animal's neck and looked at the rolling sea along with her. So Darian was jeal­ous. After all the time she had spent worrying about him and Dian, it was good to have the shoe on the other foot.
The barge sailed on across the open sea. For most of the journey there was no land to be seen on any side. The hot sun and the rolling waters made Sheila feel dreamy. She looked over at Morning Star and saw the same slightly dazed, faraway look in the lovely beast's eyes.
Or was it something else? Was Morning Star weakening under Ankzar's spell? "You okay, girl?" Sheila asked, ruffling the mane between the unicorn’s ears. Morning Star whinnied and nuzzled Sheila on the shoulder, but the sharp sparkle in her usually alert eyes had definitely dimmed. "Hang in there, Morning Star," Sheila urged. "Hang in there, please."
The sun was low in the sky by the time they sighted land. Gone were the lush forests and the rocky shores. Ahead in the distance lay flat, rolling plains of golden sand dotted with an occasional low building or palm tree. "We do not want to be spotted," Vasim announced. "We will pull into a cove where we have friends."
The barge came close to a flat sandy embankment. Vasim lowered the sails as the warriors jumped overboard and walked the barge in through the gentle surf. Sheila and the others led their unicorns into the water and swam with them to shore. Vasirn swam ahead, then headed straight for a small shack on the beach. He walked in without knocking and came out min­utes later accompanied by a short dark man with one gold earring. The two men disappeared around the back of the shack, then returned with an old but strong-looking horse.
"I will take you to Queelotoo, but there I must leave you," Vasim told them. "When you wish to return, find your way back to Nazir, here. He is a friend."
The man with the earring smiled at them and bowed.
In minutes they were off, riding toward Queelotoo. After an hour, when the sun had all but set, Vasim led them up a sandy dune. "There it is," he said. They were looking down on a most unusual city. Three immense stone pyramids were set in a triangular alignment with one another, connected by a high stone wall. Inside this triangular wall was Queelotoo.
"How does one enter this city unseen?" asked Darian skeptically.
"Not easily," Vasim told him with a laugh, "but there is a way.”
Darian and the women followed Vasim down the dune for another half hour until they reached a small village of mud huts and dirt roads. "This village is here mostly to serve travelers, but it has yet another use—which you will soon dis­cover.
Again Vasim disappeared, this time into what seemed to be a store, leaving Sheila and the others standing outside. "I hope he knows what he's doing," grumbled Darian.
Illyria seemed about to say something, but she was dis­tracted by Quiet Storm. The unicorn had stumbled slightly and seemed about to fall. But with some effort, he regained his stance.
Sheila instinctively looked to Morning Star and noticed the unicorn was standing awkwardly. "Come here, girl," she called gently. Morning Star walked several paces toward her, and Sheila immediately saw that she was limping. She knelt and examined the unicorn's leg and hoof. There was no wound or break, just a general weakness.
Vasim returned with a very old woman who wore her gray hair pulled back into a long braid. "You will have to leave your beasts here," he told them.
"That is just as well," Illyria answered. "They are growing very ill. Have you a shaded stall where they may await our return?"
Vasim translated Illyria's request to the old woman in a language Sheila had never heard. She nodded and beckoned for them to follow her around to the back of the store. There they found a stable filled with dried palm leaves and straw. They led the four unicorns into the cool shaded area and unsaddled them.
"Rest, Morning Star," Sheila whispered to her unicorn. "I'll be back soon to get you." Morning Star looked at her with dull eyes and knelt down on the straw.
When Sheila returned to the store, she found the others inside. Vasim was showing them a map of some kind. “…and then you follow this tunnel around here and up these stairs. When you emerge you will be in Queelotoo."
Sheila looked at Darian questioningly. "There are a series of tunnels leading away from this store," he explained. "They will take us into Queelotoo unseen.
"I'm afraid you will be staying here, my dear brother," Illyria told him. "Someone must tend these unicorns and make sure they are cared for." She shook several gold coins from a bag she had tied around her waist. "These should pay for all your needs and for those of the unicorns,"
"Why must I stay?" Darian protested.
Illyria glanced quickly at Vasim, who seemed to be taking great delight in the scene. “Because you know it is in the tradition of our people that the future leader must stay behind
lest he be needlessly injured in battle,'' she said, barely con­cealing a sly smile. "And besides, Zanara-Ki knows Queelotoo, and Sheila knows Mardock and must see Dr. Reit.”
"What you say is true," Darian agreed sullenly "As future leader I owe it to our people to return to them safely."
''I will leave you here," said Vasim to Illyria. "May you have good luck."
"Many, many thanks," she replied. "Is there any way we can repay you?"
"There is one thing I want . . ." He turned and pointed at Sheila. "The book," he added, after a long and awkward moment. "I would like the book you showed me."
"Sure," Sheila said, heaving a sigh of relief as she pulled it out of her pack. "I hope you enjoy it."
''When you return to the land of the Hickorites, you must stop and explain these magical pictures to me,” he said. "I already long to see you again."
Sheila felt the hot burn of a blush rise to her cheeks. "Who knows," she said. "Maybe we will meet again, Vasim. Be careful on your way back."
"He'll be just fine," Darian cut in.
Vasim smiled and waved good-bye. The old woman left the room and came back with a large bowl of cool water. The three women warriors cooled themselves and washed the last of the dye from their faces. When they were done, the old woman pushed back a worn rug and opened a heavy metal trap door in the floor.
Illyria was the first to disappear down into the hatch. Zanara-Ki went next. Sheila sat with her legs dangling down into the tunnel, waiting her turn to follow.
"Take care of yourself," Darian said, with surprising ten­derness in his voice. Then he bent down and brushed her lips gently with a kiss.
Sheila gave him a quick smile, and then she jumped. No sooner did she hit the dirt floor several feet below than the door above her slammed shut. Sheila was immediately en­gulfed in total darkness.

11
Queelotoo


"How much longer?" asked Sheila, a note of uneasiness in her voice. Though she had fumbled in her pack and found her lighter, it was only small comfort against the blackness all around her. And then there was the terrible stifling heat of the tunnel's narrow passageways.
"I believe we are almost there," Illyria said, bending to­ward the lighter to study Vasim's crude map. Sure enough, they soon came to the steep steps that marked the end of the tunnel. Illyria climbed up first and, using all her strength, pushed open the metal hatch above her head. She peered out cautiously.
The hatch opened onto an empty side alley.
With a grunt Illyria pushed the hatch all the way up and climbed out. Zanara-Ki and Sheila followed quickly behind her. The main street which intersected the alley was crowded with people all heading in the same direction.
"It looks like there's a parade or something," said Sheila. "Let's go see.
"Not yet," Illyria cautioned, placing a strong hand on her shoulder, "We're sure to stand out in these clothes. We must find disguises."
"Luck is with us," said Zanara-Ki, rummaging through a pile of rubbish stacked against the building. "Look at all the cloth among this refuse."
Illyria and Sheila joined her and soon they had sorted out some stained and torn material. "We won't look like grand ladies, but do the best you can with it," said Illyria, draping a long piece of gauze over her head and letting it fall to her knees. She used her own thick brown cord belt to cinch it at the waist.
Sheila saw that some of the women in the street were wearing turbans that let their long hair spill out the middle. She fashioned herself a headpiece in the same style and then wrapped a piece of light blue patterned material around her waist as a long skirt. She ripped the neckline of her T-shirt and let it fall off her shoulders in the same style the women on the street were wearing.
Zanara-Ki had wrapped some fabric around her waist and knotted it at her hip to reveal one leg. "You will do as peasant women," she said, looking her companions over. 'But we need color for the eyes. All of the Queelotoons, men and women, wear color on their eyes."
Sheila dug into her pack and pulled out the zinc oxide. "Perfect," said Zanara-Ki, and the three of them applied the purple cream to their lids.
"One more thing," said Illyria, and she pulled a dazzling jewel of cobalt blue from the bag at her waist: the Gem of Speaking. "We would not get very far out there with no knowledge of the language," she said.
Illyria held out the stone in her palm, instructing Sheila to lay her hand over it as well. "Now, Zanara-Ki," she said, since you speak Quceelotoon, we need you to lay both your hands over ours and fill your head with the language of this land."
Zanara-Ki did as she was told, shutting her eyes in intense concentration. Sheila also closed her eyes and immediately felt a tingle run across her forehead. The blackness behind her lids changed to green and then to a deep blue, the very same color as the gem. Her eyes snapped open.
	"Did it work?” Zanara-Ki asked.
"I don't know."
Zanara-Ki smiled. "Obviously it did. I asked you the ques­tion in Queelotoon and you understood me."
"Enough talk," Illyria said. "In any language! It is time to go." And stepping out into the main street, the three "peasants" were quickly swept up by the surging crowd.
"There he is!" they heard a woman cry our. Coming to­ward them, down the crowded street, was a procession of shirt­less guards wearing ballooned pants, sashes across their chests, and broad sabers at their sides. Behind them were four slaves, each carrying one corner of a golden carriage that was open on all sides. Sheila could see a reclining figure silhouetted within the case, but the spun-gold cloth draped across the sides kept her from seeing the person in any detail.
"That's got to be Ankzar," Illyria deduced as she stood staring, jostled by the crowd.
Sheila broke out in a cold sweat as she sighted the next person in the procession: Mardock, waving joylessly to the crowd while being carried along on an ornate sultan's chair. His jet-black robes were in sharp contrast to the golds, greens, and reds of the people and buildings around him.
"If we follow this procession, it will lead us to the palace," Zanara-Ki said. "We are lucky to have come on this date. Twice a year Ankzar allows the people to adore him. He will even let a certain number of them into his palace for a cele­bration of his greatness. If we hurry, perhaps we can sneak into the palace with the crowd."
"These people are awfully excited," Sheila noticed. "They must really like this Ankzar guy.”
"They hate him," Zanara-Ki told her as they rushed along, trying to get to the front of the crowd, "but starving people do not turn up their noses at a free meal."
The crowd streamed down the street to a long square building along one of the city's walls. After Ankzar and Mardock had entered the court, the guards then allowed the crowd to rush through the golden rungs of the high front gates for about five minutes before they began to close them.
Sheila quickened her pace as she realized she was about to be shut out. Zanara-Ki, already on the other side, reached out and grasped her forearm. A man behind Sheila knocked her to her knees in his frenzy to get through the closing gate—but Zanara-Ki held tight. With remarkable strength she lifted Sheila and pulled her through the gate just before the guard gave it a final pull. The remaining crowd was locked outside.
The lucky ones who had made it through were herded into a large courtyard that had been set with the most sumptuous meal: succulent pigs roasted on spits. Dried fruits of every description overflowed huge cut-glass bowls. Large loaves of warm eggbreads filled the air with their buttery fragrance. An army of slaves poured wine from great golden pitchers. It was a feast far beyond Sheila's imagination.
"Let's find our way into the palace," said Illyria. But then, noticing the disappointed look on Sheila's face, she added, "All right, we will all eat quickly. It has been a long day."
Sheila piled her plate high with food and wolfed it down. She was ravenously hungry; but famished as she was, her ap­petite in no way compared to that of the people around her. They stuffed themselves as though they hadn't eaten in years. Sheila wondered at the cruelty of Ankzar. How could a man horde such riches while his people starved?
She was about to make her way back for a second serving when Sheila saw Illyria wave to her. She cracked her knuckles nervously. "Here we go," she muttered under her breath.
With a quick hand signal, Illyria summoned Sheila and Zanara-Ki over to a grouping of large wicker baskets. Servants dressed in white tunics were carrying the baskets into the palace.
Trying to look casual, they waited for a moment when the guard by the baskets would be distracted. It came quickly: a women was caught secreting food into a pouch under her robe. Apparently this was forbidden, and the guard turned to wrestle the pouch away from the emaciated woman. Without a word, each of the three warriors hopped into the last three remaining baskets.
Sheila found herself crammed inside a basket filled with soft silks. "What sort of material is this that's so heavy?" she heard one slave grumble as he lifted the basket. When he put it right down again, Sheila almost stopped breathing. Was he going to check inside?
"Stop complaining and get to work!" a harsh voice called out, and Sheila's whole body sagged with relief as the slave picked the basket back up.
Sheila was jostled along for a few minutes, and then the basket was plopped down again. This time she waited for the voices of the slaves to fade away, then lifted the basket lid.
The three warriors found themselves in a wide open room with thick mats laid out on the floor.
"This is the female servants' quarters," said Zanara-Ki, climbing out of her basket.
Illyria wasted no time in pulling off her raggedy disguise and the tunic and armor she wore underneath it. She grabbed one of several long white strapless gowns that were hanging on nearby hooks. "This is what the servants wear?" she checked with Zanara-Ki as she stepped into the dress.
Zanara-Ki nodded. "They drape those gauze cloths over the dresses," she added, pointing to a row of white caftans hanging beside the dresses.
"Well, quickly, you two, find ones that fit and get into them," Illyria ordered. "Hide as much weaponry as you can under the caftans—a most fortunate fashion for our purposes.
Sheila looked at her pack. She didn't want to lose it, but there was no way she could hide it under the caftan without looking like a hunchback. Maybe if I spread the weight out, she thought. She pulled out her tape recorder and strapped it around her waist. There wasn’t really anything else she could strap on, so she crushed the pack as tightly as she could and tied the straps around her waist. So I look like a fat servant. Big deal.
"Now," said Illyria, "we must find Ankzar and force him to free Dr. Reit and break the unicorns' spell."
"What if he refuses?" asked Sheila.
Illyria tapped the hilt of the sword she wore under her caftan. "He won't refuse.''
The Unicorn Queen led the way out of the servants' quar­ters. "Perhaps we should go directly to Ankzar's bedchambers and wait, hidden, for him to retire," Zanara-Ki suggested. "That is our best chance to find him alone."
Illyria nodded and headed down an arched hallway cov­ered with glittering jewel-specked tiles.
"Uh-oh," whispered Sheila. "Look who's coming."
Mardock was striding directly toward them, arms clasped behind his back, head bowed, deep in thought. "Avert your eyes and look humble," Zanara-Ki instructed in a low voice.
The wizard passed them without a second look. Then he turned back. "Girl!" he called.
Zanara-Ki stepped forward, her head hung low. "See that my dinner is brought to my room tonight. I wish to dine alone," Mardock ordered.
Zanara-Ki bowed and backed away. Sheila shut her eyes and exhaled sharply as Mardock turned and resumed his walk. Suddenly he turned back to them. "Oh, and girl," he called, "another thing."
Once again Sheila froze, barely daring to breathe. "I need some equipment carried from my chambers to the torture room. Bring one of the other girls," said Mardock. "Come, follow me."
“Stay in back of Zanara-Ki," Illyria muttered to Sheila. Shaking all over, Sheila stepped forward, trying to hide be­hind her companion.
Mardock narrowed his eyes and studied the two servants standing timidly before him. "Oh, never mind, it can wait," he said, dismissing them with an impatient wave of his hand.
Again Sheila felt her whole body sag with relief as she turned and followed Illyria and Zanara-Ki down the hall. But just minutes later she heard the sound of many footsteps run­ning down the hall. Checking quickly over her shoulder, she saw Mardock leading a group of at least twenty guards down the hall.
"Capture those women!" he screamed.
Sheila sprinted along the corridor, but was soon cut off by a troop of twenty more guards coming directly at her. Two guards grabbed Illyria just as she was reaching for her sword. Two others stepped up and seized Sheila and Zanara-Ki, hold­ing knives at their throats.
Mardock laughed shrilly. "What a pleasant surprise. Did you honestly think I wouldn't recognize you?" He shoved his hate-filled face into Sheila's. "I would know you anywhere. I would know you in the dark."
Sheila breathed deeply to fight her fear. "And where is your magic pack?" Mardock snarled.
"I left it behind," Sheila spoke, trying to keep her voice steady.
Mardock's pupils widened with fury. He seized her by her caftan and ripped the material down the front. "Here it is!" he cried, greedily tearing the pack from her waist.
''Where is Dr. Reit?" Sheila shouted, fighting back tears.
Raising an eyebrow, Mardock chuckled. "News gets around," he sneered. "Or have you used your magic to con­tact him already? Yes, of course you have. How else could you know?"
"You'd better not have hurt him!" Sheila yelled.	
A stinging slap seared Sheila's face. "Or what?" snarled Mardock, rubbing his hand.
"Or you will be hideously avenged by those who fight with me," threatened Illyria. "Now leave that child alone, you craven coward."
Mardock backed off from Illyria's wrath, his eyes darting about in search of more guards. "Take them to Ankzar," he commanded irritably.


12
In Ankzar’s Prison

Ankzar peered down from his throne at the prisoners, his dark, black-lined eyes burning intensely. The yellow and brown silk shirt he wore over flowing trousers was open to his waist in the front and on the sides, exposing a hard chest and stomach.
He sat with his legs spread wide and his hands clasped together at his chin and continued to stare at them. When he finally spoke it was in a deep, rich voice. "I should have known it would not be so easy to get rid of you," he said to Zanara-Ki. "You can see how much I respect your fighting skills," he added with a chuckle, waving his hand toward the line of guards who stood against the wall.
Zanara-Ki twisted her mouth into a bitter smile. "Should I be honored?"
"As you like," Ankzar answered, unruffled. "But do tell me again what this is all about, other than some ridiculous threat on my life."
“We have come in pursuit of our friend, the great god of the future, and to demand that your spell be lifted from the unicorns,'' Illyria answered.
Ankzar ran a hand reflectively over his smooth, clean­shaven head as he studied this woman who dared demand any­thing of him. "You must be the one they call the Unicorn Queen. You are known to me. If I recall, you once stole a shipment of unicorns that was being sent to King Kumuru from Dynasian of the North."
"We stole nothing that was his. And truly, the unicorns belong to no one. Some of those gentle beasts allow us to ride them, and the others must be allowed to run free. Only when freed can their goodness bring joy to the land. Why do you wish to harm such creatures? They are of no use to you in captivity.''
Ankzar scowled and stood. "Do not question the might or the wisdom of Ankzar." He picked up the staff by his side and walked down two steps to the floor where they stood. Atop the staff was the sculptured head of a dog with long pointed ears and emerald stones for eyes. Ankzar banged the staff on the floor as he faced Illyria. "I will not be questioned!"
Illyria glared at him. "I have met kings and emperors before. You neither frighten nor impress me.”
To Sheila's surprise, Ankzar smiled broadly at this. "But you impress me, unicorn lady. I had not heard you were so beautiful." He stroked Illyria's cheek with the back of his hand.
Illyria turned her face away. "Do not touch me," she growled in a low, threatening voice. "If my hands were not tied I would kill you where you stand."
"And such fire! Most exciting!" Ankzar exulted. "I will have you for one of my wives." He started toward his throne, but then turned back dramatically. "No! I will have you for my head wife. My queen! I grow bored with the old one, anyway.
Illyria laughed bitterly. "I would rather die."
Ankzar's face lost every trace of good humor. "You may well get your wish," he hissed. "Guards, remove these females to the prison for now
Instantly the three prisoners were flanked by six guards on each side and marched out of the palace, through the back courtyard to one of the three great pyramids that marked the corners of Queelotoo.
It took five guards to hoist the ropes of the lever system that lifted one of the gigantic stones. ''In you go," said a guard, and then Sheila and the others were being shoved down a cool stone corridor lit only by torches on the wall. The procession stopped in front of a narrow wooden door with a barred window. One of the guards unlocked it and pushed them inside.
There was no furniture in the cold, stone cell, not even straw on the floor. And it was dark. Only two torches dimly illuminated the large windowless place.
But the room was not entirely empty. "Sheila!" came the sound of a familiar voice, as out of the shadows stepped Dr. Reit.
"Are you all right?" asked Sheila, running to the scientist.
"I have to admit that I've been better," Dr. Reit said with an ironic smile. He was still wearing his white lab coat and wrinkled trousers. There was a weariness in his dark eyes, and Sheila winced when she noticed the ugly black-and-blue welt on his forehead. "Your friend Mardock has quite a mean streak," Dr. Reit added, touching the bruise gingerly.
"I'm so sorry," Sheila apologized. "I know you told me not to come back here, but 1 just had to."
"Yes, well, I can't say I was surprised. I had a feeling you were determined to return, I was rather taken aback to find that Mardock fellow at the other end of your signal, however. I take it he obtained the Tracker from you forcibly?"
"I would never have given it to him in a million years!"
"I suspected as much. Luckily I didn't pull him through. I got such a strange series of blips and bleeps, I thought you might be in some sort of trouble, so I decided to come myself to see what was going on."
"Can you get us home again?" Sheila asked as she backed up against a jagged piece of stone and tried to cut away her bonds.
Dr. Reit sighed. "Yes and no. I took the precaution of setting the transporter onto a timer. But by my calculations the time has come and gone—and I'm still here. Of course, I may have failed to take the time divergence between the two worlds into account. Or perhaps the timer is simply malfunc­tioning."
As the scientist set to work untying Sheila, another figure stepped out of a dark corner. The woman was tall and pain­fully thin, with long, stringy black hair framing her high, bony cheeks. Coal-black eyes burned feverishly in the sunken hol­lows of her eyes.
"So, our mighty rescuers have finally arrived," she said in a sneering, contemptuous voice.
"Simi! You are alive!" cried Zanara-Ki.
The woman laughed harshly. "Do you mean they still re­member Simi the old wizard's daughter in the outside world? After all these years, how flattering.''
"You are still spoken of as a mighty sorceress," said Zanara-Ki, rubbing her wrists as Illyria freed them. "Did you have anything to do with the spell that has overtaken our unicorns?"
"I?" Simi asked in an offended tone. "I have been locked in this prison for many years, as well you know. What do I care for your horned beasts?" Despite her dismissive words, Simi smiled in a knowing way that Sheila found eerie. The woman made her extremely uneasy.
"Listen to me," Dr. Reit said urgently. "I must tell you what I've learned. It seems Mardock has convinced Ankzar that if he captures all the unicorns and grinds their horns into powder, the powder will give him all manner of magical power.
"Not that again!" groaned Sheila. She remembered how Mardock had once convinced Dynasian of the same thing—only Mardock had planned to keep the powder for himself all along. If Illyria and the others hadn't stopped him, Dynasian would have slaughtered the entire herd of captured unicorns just to get their horns. "But how can he grind up their horns if he's making them all disappear?" she asked. "He can't just-"
"He could if I helped him," Simi said slyly, twirling a strand of her oily hair.
"But you have refused to be a part of this evil?" Illyria asked. "You are on our side?"
"Not exactly," Simi told her bitterly.
Sheila could feel Illyria's growing frustration. Simi was try­ing the Unicorn Queen's patience with this cat-and-mouse game of half clues. "By the heavens!" Illyria exploded. "Will you please give us what information you have so we can all find a way out of this dismal place! Don't you want to escape?"
Simi gazed at Illyria blankly, unmoved by her anger. “There is nothing for me outside these walls,"
"Surely there are those you love whom you wish to see again," Illyria said, trying to control her irritation.
Simi settled back down onto the stone floor. She held her gnarled hands out before her, turning them back and forth. As she studied them with a vacant stare, she seemed to have retreated to some faraway world of her own.
"Answer me," Illyria demanded. "You must have some friend, some relation or loved one who is waiting for you out­side these prison walls."
The sorceress looked up at Illyria. "There is no one for me outside these walls," she said calmly, and went back to examining her hands,
Illyria turned her back on Simi in disgust and moved closer to Zanara-Ki, Dr. Reit, and Sheila. "That one is clearly mad and will be no help to us," she said.
"Do not underestimate her," Zanara-Ki warned. "She is known to be almost as powerful as her father,"
"The years in this dungeon must have sapped her powers,” said Illyria.
Zanara-Ki looked over her shoulder at the woman. “Her eyes burn with a great hatred," she observed. "Hatred has an evil power all its own.
"Let her hate whom she chooses," said Illyria. "But I can­not understand someone who prefers enslavement to freedom. I for one have no intention of remaining here one minute longer than necessary," she announced, and began moving slowly along the walls of the prison, running her strong hands over the seams, looking for weaknesses or openings in the stone. Zanara-Ki soon went to the opposite side of the room to do the same.
"I don't wish to discourage them," Dr. Reit said to Sheila. "But I've had a bit of time to examine this place, and I don't see any way out except through that rather well-guarded door."
"How long have you been here?'' Sheila asked.
Dr. Reit scratched his forehead and sighed heavily. "I'm not quite sure," he admitted. "One does lose track of time in here. The trip through the transporter seems to have stopped my watch, and without even a window to indicate day and night, well . . ." The scientist ran his large hand through his disheveled hair. "I certainly hope Einstein found the dried cat food in the bottom cupboard, or he'll be awfully upset with me.”
"I don't think much time has gone by in our world," Sheila assured him, "although several days have passed here."
The mere mention of time made Sheila suddenly realize how very tired she was, and a wide yawn escaped her lips.
"You must be positively pooped, dear girl," Dr. Reit said kindly. "Why don't you take a little nap. I could use a bit of shuteye myself."
At first it was hard for Sheila to get comfortable on the hard stone floor. Even when she curled up on her side, cush­ioning her head with her arm, sleep didn't come. Despite her exhaustion, her mind continued to race.
Seeing Dr. Reit again reminded her of home. If she were there now, she would probably be watching TV or talking to Cookie on the phone. Then she would go to sleep in her safe, soft bed. She suddenly wanted to be back there very badly.
Sheila tried to be brave—to act like a fearless warrior, but she was very frightened. It's because you're tired, she told her­self. Things will seem better after you sleep. But she couldn't shut her mind down. What if Ankzar killed them all? Or maybe he would just keep them locked up until they were all as withered and weird as Simi. The thought sent a shiver up Sheila's spine, and she pulled the white gauze caftan more tightly around her.
Sleep eventually caught up with Sheila, but it was a fitful one, full of fragmented, unsettling dreams—dreams of Mardock. She saw his yellowish eyes glaring at her, heard his vengeful voice threatening her, She dreamed he was standing among the weakened unicorns, whipping them unmercifully. Then she dreamed she was a unicorn, and felt the lash of Mardock's whip.
Sheila opened her eyes with a start. She had no idea how long she had slept. A wooden plank with hard brown bread and water had been set inside the door while she had been dreaming. Was it supper or breakfast? Everyone else in the dungeon was asleep, so there was no one to ask.
Sheila ate some of the stale bread and drifted back to sleep. When she next awoke, the others all were up. Dr. Reit was writing on a small notepad. Illyria was pacing, deep in thought. Simi sat slumped against the wall, silently staring at nothing. The only sound was the low humming made by Zanara-Ki as she sat with her legs crossed and her back straight, meditating.
And so the time passed. How much time, Sheila couldn't be certain. "We'll get out of this,” Illyria told her, but the Unicorn Queen was too preoccupied with trying to devise a plan of escape to be much comfort.
Zanara-Ki had used the Gem of Speaking on Dr. Reit, having kept it hidden in her mouth earlier. Now she and the scientist passed the time together, Zanara-Ki filling the sci­entist in on the different aspects of Queelotoon culture. Simi continued to stare into space. In fact, everyone seemed to have escaped into a sort of quiet world of their own. Sheila felt her heart race, and she was filled with panic. Was this to be her life from now on? A life of dark imprisonment where there was neither day nor night.
One time Sheila awoke trembling with fear. Quiet tears flooded her eyes. She turned her face to the wall and tried to hide her feelings, not wanting to upset anyone else. She re­alized she just couldn't take it anymore. She had to get out of there or she would lose her mind. Something had to happen—anything!
At that moment a moving shadow caught Sheila's atten­tion. She looked up and saw Mardock leering at them through the bars of the cell door. With a rattle of keys, he opened the door and stepped inside…


13
The Words of Reemergence

Illyria immediately stepped toward Mardock menacingly, but he turned and summoned a dozen guards who crowded into the cell behind him.
"Such a foolish group," he mocked, "all so unwilling to cooperate. All so nobly resisting the inevitable." He walked into the middle of the room. "I think it is time to move things along. I will begin with Dr. Reit, who refuses to teach me the ways of his time-traveling machine."
Without another word Mardock spun around and threw one of his green electric bolts at Dr. Reit, blasting the scientist off his feet and onto the floor.
"See here, Mardock," said Dr. Reit bravely, "that sort of attempt at intimidation will hardly convince me to change my mind."
"No?" Mardock screamed hysterically, standing over the fallen man. "Perhaps not. But never mind. I have no further use for you, you stubborn fool. I've got your troublesome little assistant now, and I’m sure she will be easier to break." Then Mardock simply waved his arms over Dr. Reit. A bright light flashed around the two men, and when it subsided, there was nothing left of Dr. Reit but a rough-cut diamond.
"This should fetch a pretty price," Mardock said with a laugh, picking up the gem and tossing it from hand to hand.
"Turn him back to himself!" Sheila cried in horror. "Do it now!''
"Mardock!” Illyria spoke fiercely. "I have a bargain for you.
"What can you offer me?"
"Ankzar desires me as his wife. Return Dr. Reit to his original state, and I will go to Ankzar. I will tell him it was you who convinced me.”
Mardock eyed Illyria suspiciously. "Why not?" he said at last. "I know the emperor is generous to those who help him fulfill his desires—though why he'd desire such a headache as you, I do not know.”
With another flash of light, Dr. Reit was returned to the cell. Sheila ran to him and supported the wobbly man with her shoulder. "That last zap made me quite dizzy," he mut­tered weakly.
"You will come peacefully?" Mardock asked Illyria, who nodded wordlessly. "Watch her carefully," he commanded the guards. And looking straight ahead, betraying no emotion, Illyria followed Mardock out the door
No sooner had they disappeared than Simi roused herself from her stupor and began to rant in a high, shrill voice. "Why her? Why is she the chosen? I am the daughter of a wizard! I once had great beauty. She must have bewitched him."
"Illyria's no witch," Sheila protested. "And she certainly doesn't want Ankzar. She just wants to help Dr. Reit. And now that she's out of here, I'm sure she'll find a way to free us all.''
"You don't know Ankzar," Simi snarled, rising to her feet. "There was never a man more charming. I should know. He once used that charm on me—until my father fell from his favor. Your friend will be unable to resist him."
"Don't be silly! Illyria hates Ankzar!" Sheila exclaimed.  
"And, besides, she loves someone else. She would never forget about Laric."
"Ankzar can make a woman forget any man on earth," Simi insisted before collapsing to the stone floor in a heap of pitiful sobs.
Sheila and Zanara-Ki exchanged glances. For days Simi bad sat like a zombie—barely moving, emotionless. Now here she was, weeping and wailing. And over Ankzar!
Simi cried on and on. When she had finally run out of tears, Sheila picked up the bowl of water from the plank near the door and offered it to her. With her eyes red from crying, the wizard's daughter seemed softer, more vulnerable, and Sheila sensed she might be ready to talk now.
"Simi, please tell us what you know about this spell," she requested gently.
"Everyone wants to know about the spell," Simi said, a bit of the old bitterness creeping back into her voice. "Ankzar has been trying to get me to reveal its secrets for years. I've always refused him. But now he's set his new wizard to decod­ing my father's secret books. From your words I take it he's been successful. So Ankzar thinks he doesn't need me anymore." The woman laughed to herself. "But that's where he's wrong.”
''What do you mean?" Sheila asked.
Simi gave Sheila a twisted smile. "I'm not sure I wish to reveal that."
Sheila tried again. "Why would Ankzar want to make all the unicorns disappear? It doesn't do him any good."
Simi suddenly realized that Zanara-Ki and Dr. Reit were listening intently to her words. She seemed to enjoy having an audience and drew herself up into a regal posture. Even her voice took on a deeper tone as she assumed the bearing of a great sorceress. "Isn't it obvious, child? Anything that has been made to disappear can be made to reappear! All it takes is the chanting of certain words over the dog's head on the staff Ankzar keeps by his side, All the focused power of the spell resides within that head."
"That's why Ankzar has such an abundance," Zanara-Ki gasped with sudden realization. "All the crops and animals he made disappear, reappeared in his own storeroom and sta­bles!"
"Exactly," Simi confirmed. “At least they reappeared un­til my father was murdered. My wise father left the words of reemergence out of his books, revealing them only to me. Not even Mardock can find them. Since Ankzar knows I know the words, I imagine that's the reason I am still alive."
"But if you love Ankzar," Shefla said, "why not tell him the words? I don't understand."
"You wouldn't," said Simi, turning her back on Sheila and the others as she spoke. "Love and hate can be strangely entwined. I once loved Ankzar and offered to help him—if he would make me his wife." Simi's voice became choked with rage at the memory. "He laughed in my face. Now I would do anything to hurt him, even if it means I rot in this prison forever."
With these words, Simi seemed to collapse back into the madwoman she had appeared to be before. She slowly turned and walked to the darkest corner of the prison, where she pulled herself up into a ball. With eyes wide open, her face went blank. It was clear that Simi would tell them nothing further, at least not now.
"You did well," Zanara-Ki said to Sheila.
"At least we know what's going on," Sheila answered.
"But now what?" asked Dr. Reit, looking up from a page of notes he had been scribbling. ''I hate just sitting around idly, not doing anything to help the situation."
"What's that you're writing?" Sheila asked.
"It's useless, really. I've been working on a possible con­nection between this spell and my own work in molecular acceleration—moving matter to different planes and realms of reality. It might help in some way, yet I don't see how words can affect molecular movement.”
"Magic is a powerful force," said Zanara-Ki. "The words simply focus the wizard's energy.”
"Hmmm," muttered Dr. Reit thoughtfully. "Why don't you have a look at my notepad. Perhaps we can figure some­thing out."
The scientist and the mystic sat together near the torch at the far wall and went over Dr. Reit's theory.
Though Sheila somehow doubted they would get very far, she left them to their work and wandered over to the bread and water a guard had just brought in. Sheila had learned that it was slightly better if tasted immediately. As she picked up the loaf, she saw a folded white piece of paper underneath it. She grabbed it up and took it over to the other torch.
By the flickering light Sheila saw the note was from Darian. He must be in Queelotoo!
"I bribed a guard to give you this," she read. "I hope you get it. Sad news. All the unicorns have weakened and disap­peared. There was nothing I could do to stop it. Morning Star was the last to go.”
Sheila staggered back against the wall. "No!" she gasped, tears flooding her eyes.
At that moment Simi rose up, wild-eyed, and ran to Sheila. "You will die," she whispered, reaching for her throat.
Sheila pushed the woman away. "What are you saying, Simi?"
"And you, Ankzar, you serpent," Simi hissed, pointing at nothing. "You will die first."
Sheila looked into Simi's vacant eyes and realized the sor­ceress was sleepwalking.
"Simi, you're not awake. Go back to sleep," Sheila coaxed the woman.
"No," Simi snarled, shrugging off Sheila's hand on her arm. ''I can never sleep while Ankzar has that blond devil for a wife. I am the one he needs."
Sheila tried to remember what she had heard about sleep-walkers. She knew it wasn't a good idea to startle them. She had heard that if you couldn't guide them back to bed, then it was best to distract them until they either woke up or fell back to sleep.
Zanara-Ki looked up from her conversation with Dr. Reit, but Sheila waved her back. She could handle this.
But how could she distract the woman in this empty cell? Then the hard bump of her tape recorder gave her an idea. Mardock had missed it when he ripped the pack off her. She had kept it strapped to her waist, hidden under her caftan. Now she pulled it out as Simi continued to wander about the cell whispering and waving her arms angrily: “Die, die, I will make sure they both die.”
"Hey, Simi! Want to see something interesting?" Sheila held the recorder out. Simi looked at it blankly and then at Sheila. "See,” -Sheila pressed the Record button-"it can re­cord voices.
Simi knocked the machine from Sheila's hands. "Fools' magic!" she growled. "Simi, the daughter of the great wizard, has real magic. Only I know the sacred words of reemergence; Aza ka moseti! Azataka atut mazut adatiaba…”
Simi continued spouting strange words for almost another fifteen minutes without faltering. Sheila marveled that the woman remembered it all after so many years. "It is I whom Ankzar needs. I whom he should love. I who will triumph!" Simi concluded. And still muttering angrily, she finally stretched out on the floor and went back to sleep.
Sheila sighed wearily. "Thank goodness," she said to her­self, and returned to the note. After all the unicorns had faded, she learned, Darian had waited for the women's return. But when days went by with no word from them, he'd become worried and followed them into Queelotoo.
Hearing the news that Ankzar had taken a new blond wife from across the seas, he jumped to the obvious—and correct—conclusion that it was Illyria. Darian then made his way to the palace, where he bribed one guard to let him in to see his sister, and when Illyria told him what had happened to the others, bribed a second guard to deliver this note.
Pressing her back against the stone wall, Sheila let herself slide down to the floor. Now her nightmare was really coming true: Morning Star had disappeared.
But Morning Star wasn't really gone, Sheila told herself firmly. Ankzar was determined to make the unicorns reappear. She would beg Simi, plead with her, to say the words of reemergence over Ankzar's staff. And then somehow, some way, Illyria's warriors would stop the slaughter. Sheila knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. For as long as the unicorns remained in this strange, suspended state of invisibility, there was no hope at all for them.
After telling Zanara-Ki and Dr. Reit the news from Darian, Sheila made a silent vow to the one who was not there: We won't give up, Morning Star. Be brave, girl, and I'll try to be brave, too.
Sheila closed her eyes to better conjure up the image of her beloved unicorn, but her intense concentration was bro­ken by a sudden sharp clicking sound. It was the tape recorder shutting off. The cassette must have wound down to the end. Sheila had forgotten about it. She crawled a few feet across the room and picked the recorder up. At least it's not broken, she thought, reaching under her caftan and restrapping it, before settling down to sleep. .
Sheila was abruptly awakened by the clanking of keys in the lock. As the door was pushed open, her jaw dropped in astonishment.
Illyria stood before them, dressed as a queen. Her abun­dant hair had been piled high on top of her head, falling in a long, loose tail down one shoulder. She was sheathed in a sheer dress of shimmering gold, bordered with jewels of every kind—emeralds, rubies, sapphires, pearls. The dress was clasped at one shoulder with a dazzling blue diamond, leaving the other shoulder bare. Illyria's eyes had been expertly made up, lined all around in black pencil. Her full lips were painted a cherry red.
It wasn't the woman Sheila knew at all. Yet she had to admit that Illyria looked breathtakingly beautiful.
"I have come with a message," Illyria said in a stranger’s flat, toneless voice.

14
Simi's Revenge


Ankzar stepped into the cell beside Illyria. He was dressed as the day before, only now he had draped a silken cape over his shoulders and held his staff regally before him. And after Ankzar came Darian.
Illyria's brother had also been transformed. He was wear­ing a shirt of red silk that was open on all sides, like Ankzar's. Soft white trousers flowed loosely around his legs and were gathered at the bottoms. It looked to Sheila as if his eyes had also been finely rimmed with black pencil. His face was as blank and emotionless as Illyria's.
"Your queen has come to help you make wise choices," Ankzar announced. Three guards stepped into the cell behind him. The last one in relocked the door.
''Yes, I have come to urge you all to join forces with Ankzar," Illyria spoke to them gently. "Our cause is lost. Let us now align ourselves with the victor, so that our lives may continue in comfort and productivity."
Dr. Reit caught Sheila's eye. His raised eyebrow seemed to ask: Is this real or a bluff? Sheila bit her lip. She wasn't sure. Illyria would never want them to surrender—but she sounded so convincing! Could she have fallen under one of Mardock's spells?
"Mardock will use the power from the unicorn horns to create a super army that will ride against Campora," Illyria continued in the same monotone. ''That is our fate. To resist it is senseless.''
"You've forgotten one thing," snarled Simi. "Only I know the words of reemergence. You need me to create your super army. And I will never say those words for you."
“But you will," Illyria told her calmly. "Mardock has come up with a spell that compels the will of another. You have only to gaze into his eyes and you will be under his com­mand."
''Hypnosis," muttered Dr. Reit under his breath.
Sheila clasped her hands together to keep them from trem­bling. Mardock must have hypnotized Illyria! If Illyria had fallen under his control, then the situation was truly hopeless.
"You can't betray Laric!" Sheila cried out, beside herself with despair.
"Nor shall I!" shouted Illyria. And with a blindingly quick movement, she grabbed a torch off the wall with one hand and seized Ankzar around his neck with the other. She held the torch threateningly close to the emperor's face.
The first guard drew his saber, but Darian was on top of him instantly, wrestling him to the ground. Zanara-Ki kicked the next guard's saber from his hand with a single well-aimed blow.
Sheila scrambled for the sword as it slid across the floor. She seized it tightly and, with a clang of metal, engaged the third guard in a duel.
Sheila's fingers tingled as she clasped the hilt with both hands. A lesson Illyria had once given her ran through her brain. "You must throw yourself into the fight with a battle madness that banishes fear. Become part of the weapon, mov­ing through space with only one goal—victory."
Still, the guard was strong and skilled. He sliced the air in front of her; she leaned back and checked him with an upward stroke of her saber. He shifted to the right, and Sheila slammed her blade down on his. On and on they fought.
Out of the corner of her eye Sheila caught sight of Illyria. The Unicorn Queen had gotten hold of the first guard's saber and was embroiled in her battle with Ankzar, who had some­how freed himself from her grasp.
Ankzar slashed the air with his staff, twirling and spinning it like a master. Yet time and again Illyria managed to leap and somersault out of its reach. And then her saber clattered against the stone floor as she tried unsuccessfully to crack the staff in hall.
Dr. Reit came up behind Sheila's opponent and grabbed him by the throat. The guard whirled around and shoved the older man back hard. But that single second of broken concentration gave Sheila the advantage she needed. She was able to meet his saber with her own and send it sailing across the cell.
The unarmed guard pounced on Sheila, throwing her to the floor. Zanara-Ki seemed to fly across the room and was quickly on top of him. She had left her guard unconscious, and now she pulled this one up and kicked him squarely across the jaw. He staggered back, but Zanara-Ki was relentless. She flew into the air with one leg extended and kicked him in the stomach.
The guard went down, out cold. Sheila looked around and saw that Darian had finished off his foe, but Illyria was still battling Ankzar. Then, with one powerful blow, the Unicorn Queen swung at the staff and connected. The dog's head went flying across the cell. Ankzar froze, stunned by the loss of the headpiece to his magical staff. All eyes turned to Simi, who had scooped up the blue sculptured head.
Holding it up high, the sorceress sang out in triumph; “Aziwr, melvo, papisar, akaa!"
Even as the last strange syllable echoed through the cell, the stones of the pyramid began to rumble. A tremendous crack arose from the base of the floor and crept up to the ceiling, splitting the stones in two.
"You fool!" Ankzar roared at Simi. "You don't know what you're doing!"
"I know that these are the words of destruction!" Simi screamed back at him. "I know, too, that I will never say the words of reemergence!" And she went back to her chanting, growing more frenzied with each word.
The walls and floor of the pyramid continued to shake violently. Sheila leapt back as the comer of a giant stone came crashing to the floor. They were going to be buried alive—or crushed to death—by these falling rocks!
"Stop this madness!" Illyria cried to Simi. "You will kill us all!" But her words fell on deaf ears. Enthralled with her own power, Simi was oblivious to the danger around her.
Illyria scooped up the keys to the cell from the floor. Once again the walls of the cell shuddered, throwing the Unicorn Queen to the ground. "Come, we must get out of here," she called to the others, scrambling back up and unlocking the cell. But just as she pulled the door to her, a giant piece of stone crashed in front of it, sealing off the passageway.
“Please, Simi, stop this!" Illyria cried out to the woman.
"I could not stop it now even if I chose," Simi crowed as a jagged crack opened up at her feet, splitting the prison cell in half.
"Ha, ha!" she shrieked maniacally. "I will destroy you all!" At that moment the floor rumbled again, knocking Simi off balance. Seeing that the woman was in danger of falling into the crevice, Illyria leaped across the gap and only barely managed to grab Simi's wrist as she toppled over.
Simi looked up at Illyria with the burning eyes of a luna­tic. In the hand of the wrist Illyria grasped, the sorceress still clutched the dog's head. Illyria tried to drag the dangling woman back to the top, but Simi's skin was slick with perspi­ration. She slid from Illyria's hand, shrieking as she plum­meted to her death.
On the other side of the crack Sheila stared down into the gaping hole, her eyes wide with horror. There was no sign of Simi. Sheila looked to Illyria, who appeared stunned, as she, too, stared into the pit. At last Illyria raised her hand and with shock-glazed eyes studied the object now clutched in it. Simi had let go of the dog's head as she slipped, and now Illyria was left holding the magic sculpture.
Another quake rocked the prison and sent the entire in­side wall crashing down. Illyria jumped to her feet, her sharp eyes searching for Ankzar. Sheila quickly followed her gaze. Where was the evil emperor?
"There he is!" cried Zanara-Ki, pointing to a dark, shad­owed corner of the cell. Sheila caught a fleeting flash of Ankzar's golden trouser leg as he slipped out a secret doorway opened wide by the last rockfall.
Illyria leaped back over the crack in the floor, and another large stone crashed at her feet. "Come," she shouted, "we must follow him if we want to save ourselves!"
One by one the warriors hurried through the narrow door­way and down a steep flight of steps. At the bottom of it they found themselves knee-deep in muddy water. Overhead, a se­ries of deafening crashes continued to rock the pyramid.
A huge square stone cracked above Sheila's head, sending a torrent of slimy water pouring down her neck. In the next second the stone fell to the ground and became wedged in the passageway, cutting Darian and Sheila off from the others who were just ahead of them.
Darian scrambled up its side and, grimacing with the ef­fort, squeezed through the narrow niche between the stone and wall. "Come on, Sheila!" he shouted. “If I can make it, so can you.
Sheila tried to clamber up, but the rock was wet and slippery. She kept sliding back down the slick surface. "I can't get up!” she cried, a note of panic in her voice. A horrible rumble behind her made Sheila jump. The entire ceiling of the passage had collapsed, and a torrent of filthy water was rushing toward her.
''Hurry!" Darian yelled, sticking his arm back over the barrier. Sheila grabbed it with all her might and held fast as he pulled her up. The water in the passageway was rising rap­idly. Scraping her arms and face against the rough stone, she finally squeezed through to the other side.
Still clutching Darian's hand, Sheila looked back and saw the water splashing up around the fallen rock. That makeshift dam would hold back the flood for a short while, but if they didn't get out of there soon, they would surely drown.
Hand in hand, Sheila and Darian hurried through the pas­sage and caught up with the others. The water was nearly to Sheila's waist when she looked ahead and saw Dr. Reit climb­ing a metal ladder. She scurried up behind him, with Darian close at her heels.
When she reached the top rung, Sheila was happy to find herself staring at a bright moonlit night—and an even more welcome sight: her friends and comrades. Everyone was soaked with mud and water, but they were alive. Ankzar lay panting several feet away from them.
"I have your precious dog's head, Ankzar," said Illyria, her glittering gown now torn and filthy.
Ankzar threw back his head and chuckled glumly. "And you can keep the wretched thing Without Simi it is no good to either of us, my dear Unicorn Queen. Only she could speak the words of reemergence over it.''
"I heard her say those words," said Sheila desperately. "If only I could remember them. But there were so many and they were so very strange!"
"Don't strain yourself," said Ankzar. "The spell must be spoken in Simi's own voice. Her father was a sly one, and he fixed it that way to insure his daughter's safety. It worked, too. Why do you think I kept that madwoman alive all these years? But now I'm afraid Simi is gone for good—and so are all the unicorns."

15
Sheila’s Magic


Sheila's eyes filled with tears at Ankzar’s words, but they brightened almost immediately as a sudden thought hit her. Quickly she unhitched her tape recorder. It was muddy and slightly wet. Praying it still worked, Sheila hit the buttons:
Rewind . . . Play
"Aza ka moseli!'' Simi's voice rang out clearly.
Sheila grinned at the shocked expressions on the faces around her. "Give me the dog's head," she said to Illyria. As soon as it was in her hands, Sheila held the figurine over the tape recorder. "Here goes nothing," she muttered.
"Azataka azut mazut adatlaba," Simi's voice droned on, her words coming through loud and clear over Sheila’s tape re­corder. The machine had recorded every word the sorceress spoke the night she sleepwalked—including the long, incom­prehensible chant of reemergence.
And now, as the tape played on, streaks of colored light went whizzing through the Queelotoon sky. Nearby, still crumbling, the pyramid began to shimmer with starry lights until it finally disappeared altogether—just as the unicorns had.
The bright lights continued to swirl above. "Fascinating," whispered Dr. Reit.
The air around them was suddenly freezing cold, as if the heat were being sucked out of it. The lights expanded and fused into one shimmering halo that hovered over their heads.
Then small silver bolts of electricity came shooting out of the halo. They hit the ground and bounced back up. Sheila drew her arms tautly to her sides to avoid being burned by the fiery bolts; but when one did glance off her elbow, it sent only the smallest tingle through her body. Another bounced off her foot, and that one almost tickled.
All around them, the bolts were raining down harder and harder. And now the air was aglow with silvery light—a light so bright it was blinding. They lifted their hands to shield their eyes, and when they dropped them seconds later, they found themselves surrounded by a herd of strong, healthy unicorns!
"Good heavens!" cried Dr Reit, clutching Sheila's arm in awe. "There must be over a hundred of them."
Through her tears of happiness, Sheila spotted Quiet Storm, who stood almost a head above the rest. Beside him was Wildwing . . . and Morning Star, and all of the lost herd.
Illyria ran toward her unicorn, but then stopped short and turned back to the dog's head which Sheila had laid on the ground. Raising her saber over it, she said, "This is to make sure that they never disappear again-"
''Stop!" shouted Ankzar, "That head is priceless. It's power can never be duplicated."
But the sword was already arcing down. With one swift blow, Illyria cracked open the head. Another slash fragmented it into tiny pieces.
With barely a backward glance at the shattered dog's head, Sheila found Morning Star and jumped onto the unicorn’s back. There wasn't a trace of weakness in the animal as she pranced joyously about.
"We're not finished yet!" shouted Zanara-Ki, pointing off to the distance. Coming up on them quickly was a troop of Ankzar's soldiers—and they were riding camels!
Before she knew it, Sheila was in the middle of a battle.
Though they greatly outnumbered the unicorns, the camels were no match for the nimble creatures. Even the riderless unicorns fought, using their sharp horns and powerful hoofs as weapons.
"Sheila! Sheila!" Turning she saw Dr. Reit dodging across the battleground. "The timer I set is working. I'll be transporting any minute now. My fingers and toes feel numb al­ready.”
Frantically Sheila looked around her. The fight was raging in all directions. She couldn't leave yet, not before she was sure the battle was won and the unicorns were safe.
"Hurry!" Dr. Reit urged. "Grab hold of my hand and the transporter will take you back, too."
Sheila didn't know what to do. This might be her only chance to get home. Maybe she should take it. Her friends seemed to be holding their own. Illyria was galloping through the fray, knocking Ankzar's soldiers off their camels and onto the ground with lightning speed. Zanara-Ki was a blinding whirl as she kicked and punched her foes while actually stand­ing on her unicorn's back. Perhaps they didn't really need her, after all, Sheila decided.
"Okay, I'm coming!" Sheila shouted to Dr. Reit. She was about to slide from Morning Star's back when she caught sight of Darian doing battle with two of Ankzar's camel-riding soldiers. While one parried the teenager's sword, the other was brandishing his own blade. "Hold on just a second," Sheila called to Dr. Reit.
"I'll try!" the scientist shouted back doubtfully.
Sheila and Morning Star galloped up alongside Darian and the soldiers. As if reading Sheila's mind, Morning Star low­ered her head and then shot it up quickly as she reared onto her hind legs, catching one of the soldiers by the belt with her long black horn. The soldier was lifted from his saddle and tossed through the air.
"That evens things up. Thanks!" said Darian with a smile.  In the next second he was vanquishing the other soldier.
"Sheila!" Dr. Reit called. "I can't wait any longer. My whole body is numb. Hurry!"
"I'm coming!" But as she began to turn Morning Star toward the scientist, a lasso came whizzing through the air and fell around her shoulders.
"Not so fast!" hissed Mardock from the saddle of a camel. Sheila saw that he had her lavender pack on his back. "You're not leaving until I learn the secret of these magic tools."
"Sheila!" Dr. Reit cried again.
And then he was gone.
Now she had to get the Tracker back from Mardock. It was her only hope of ever returning home. And this might be her only chance to get it.
By now Mardock had ridden up beside her. Holding Morning Star's mane with one hand, Sheila threw the rope off her shoulders. She reached out to grab the pack from Mardock's back and got hold of the strap. Mardock tried to shake her off, but she held tight. Angrily, the wizard grabbed her by the hair and tried to pull her up onto his camel.
Sheila had never been so determined in her whole life. She was going to get that pack! Still clutching the strap, she let her hand climb, inch by inch, up to the opening of the pack. It was coming open in the struggle and Sheila noticed a glint of red plastic sticking out the top. It was the water pistol she'd packed as a sort of joke.
Mardock would not let go of her hair as the two of them continued to struggle, each locked in the other's fierce grip. Sheila stretched her arm and fingers to their limit, and was able to pull the toy gun from the pack.
With her free hand she aimed and sent a short sharp stream of water directly into Mardock's eye.  Mardock let go of Sheila in order to shield his face. Two more quick squirts, and then Sheila used all her strength to yank the pack from Mardock's back—and send him sliding off the side of his camel.
She had the pack! As she quickly slid her arms through the straps, Sheila saw that Ankzar's soldiers were already re­treating. Illyria, Darian, and Zanara-Ki were pale and panting but apparently unscathed as they looked around for any last battles to be fought—and found none.
"Mardock is still here!" Sheila shouted.
"Indeed I am!" screamed Mardock and sent a fireball hur­tling past Sheila's face.
She turned Morning Star around and came face to face with a hideous two-headed monster with red blistered eyes. Screeching fiercely, it reached its scaly arms toward Sheila, as if to pluck her off Morning Star's back. The unicorn reared to meet the challenge, but the gruesome creature kept coming.
Though Sheila slashed at the monster with her saber, the blade passed unresistingly through the undulating flesh. Sheila felt a cold wave of terror as the creature advanced on her.
“It's just an image created by Mardock!" Illyria called, as she charged toward the wizard, her saber held high. "Ride away and don't look at it." Sheila did as Illyria told her, and when she checked back over her shoulder the monster had disappeared.
Mardock was raising his hands again, as if to send another of his spells Sheila's way, but a strong arm reached down and pulled him onto a camel. It was Ankzar. "You win for the moment, Unicorn Queen," he called, still sounding calm, de­spite the ugly battle wound that bled down his face. "I can afford to lose a few of my troops—there are many more where these came from—but I want my wizard whole and unhurt."
"We will meet again," Mardock snarled at Sheila. "I still must learn how to use your time-journeyer." And seeing Sheila's triumphant smile, he added, "I still have it, you know. It is no longer in that little bag."
Frantically Sheila slipped off the lavender pack and dug through it. What he said was true. The Tracker wasn't there.
"Then you will return it!" shouted Illyria, charging toward Ankzar and Mardock. Ankzar turned quickly and galloped off with Mardock behind him on the camel.
Zanara-Ki rode up alongside Illyria. "Come, we can out­ride him!"
But the Unicorn Queen shook her head. "I am sure he doesn't have Sheila's Tracker on his person. It is most likely back at the palace. If we go after it now, we will wind up right back in prison."
Sheila knew Illyria was right. “There'll be plenty of time to get it later," she said bravely. "I bet at home it's not even nine o'clock yet." Then, with a look at Darian, she added, "I don't mind staying awhile longer, anyway.”
"We will make it our business to get your Tracker at an­other time," Illyria assured her. "Can you wait until we encounter Mardock again?"
Sheila nodded. "I think it's more important to get the unicorns safely home, anyway.”
"Spoken like a true warrior," Illyria said, smiling warmly at her. Then the Unicorn Queen looked around and sighed. "And just how we are going to get these animals home poses an interesting challenge. But we'd better waste no time, Ankzar might be returning with soldiers at any moment."
With a loud, high trill, Illyria sounded the beginning of the drive away from Queelotoo. She led the herd of unicorns at a gallop, wanting to put as much distance as possible be­tween them and Ankzar.
The thunder of hoofbeats was nearly deafening, and Sheila had to tear a strip off her caftan and wrap it around her nose and mouth to keep the flying sand from choking her.
She knew she should be tired, but she was filled with en­ergy. The surge of the animals through the open desert, the pounding in her ears, the knowledge that she had thought and fought well—all combined into a thrilling elation. Sheila was sure that Morning Star was feeling it, too. Never before had the unicorn run so fast or seemed so full of wild power.
They rode without stopping until they reached the cove where Vasim had first brought them. Illyria dismounted and found Nazir, the man with the earring who lived in the shed. Sheila couldn't hear what they were saying, but she saw Nazir shaking his head apologetically.
"Vasim set sail from here an hour ago," Illyria reported shortly. "No one knows when he will return.”
"Ankzar and his men are probably on our trail right now," said Zanara-Ki. "We can't outrun him for long. Not with a whole herd to move.”
Illyria nodded in agreement, her troubled eyes gazing out at the vast sea. "And there is no land route back to Campora," she added.
"There must be a way!" Sheila said urgently. Surely they hadn't come this far only to fall into Ankzar's hands now.

16
Homeward Bound


"Of course there's a way," said Illyria. "We have only to find it.”
"If we ride three days to the west, I know of a shipping port where it is only an hour across. They are sure to have boats there," Zanara-Ki suggested.
Illyria looked worried. "That would increase the chances of Ankzar overtaking us, but I suppose it is our only choice." She jumped back onto Quiet Storm and was about to continue the drive when Darian caught her arm.
"Look," he said, pointing to the sky. Overhead soared twelve giant golden eagles.
"Laric,” said Illyria, stretching one arm skyward longingly. The eagles slowly circled to the ground, and with a soft glow­ing light they transformed into men. Laric stepped forward, his red cape swinging dashingly over his shoulders,
]llyria dismounted and ran to him. They embraced, and then Laric held Illyria out in front of him. He studied her tenderly, disheveled as she was, her exquisite dress torn and dirty, her face streaked with black eyeliner and swear, her hair wild and tangled around her shoulders. "I can see you've had a time of it, my lady,'' he said gently.
Illyria tossed her head back proudly and laughed. "That is certainly true." Then her face grew soft, and she allowed her exhaustion to show. "And I am overjoyed to see you, my love.
But how did you find us here?"
"When Nanine and Myno informed me of your quest, we set out directly to join you," Laric explained. "The Hickorites told us of this cove, and I sent Nanine back to arrange transport and troops.
''So I see,'' said Illyria with a smile.
Sheila squinted as she followed Illyria's gaze. Out in the open sea she could make out a dot of red, then two dots. One by one the dots increased. By the time the twelfth dot ap­peared over the horizon, Sheila could see that the first dot was in fact a ship with billowing crimson-colored sails.
Sheila dismounted and waded into the water. Darian came alongside her. Silently they watched the ships come ever closer. Before long they could recognize Nanine at the helm of the first ship.
The next few hours were spent walking the herd of uni­corns up the slippery gangplanks onto the ships. The sun was low when Nazir ran down to the water to warn Illyria that Ankzar's soldiers were on their way.
"Shall we stay and fight?" Laric asked Illyria.
The Unicorn Queen shook her head. "There would he nothing gained, and perhaps something lost. We have what we came for."
Laric considered her words a moment. "I agree. If they wish a fight, let them seek us on our own ground."
With that they boarded the ship. "Set sail for home!" Laric shouted, his arm wrapped happily around Illyria's waist.

"Now, tell us of your adventures," Myno urged Sheila as Nanine steered the ship into open waters.
"Illyria says it was your magic that saved the unicorns," Nanine joined in.
"What was Queelotoo like?" Dian asked.
"No more questions until I make sure Sheila is in no need of my care," Pelu said. "I see some fearsome bruises and cuts even from here."
"I promise to give you all the details," Sheila said with an exhausted smile. "This story will keep me busy for lots of campfires, that's for sure. But right now I'm too tired to tell it.”
"Go, go," Myno said, scooting her along, "before you fall down."
As soon as Pelu had tended her wounds, Sheila wandered over to an empty section near the side of the ship and leaned against it. Morning Star walked quietly to her side. "I guess you really did need me," Sheila said, draping her arm around the unicorn's neck. Morning Star rubbed Sheila's arm with her nose.
"She's not the only one," said Darian, coming up beside them. "I'm glad you're staying."
Sheila smiled at him softly. "Me, too," she said. In a strange way she was glad the choice had been taken from her, at least for the present.
Sheila and Darian stood there, savoring the peaceful sea. The sun was just rising, streaking the yellow-blue sky with red and gold.
"I can never get used to the way the sun comes up in this world," Sheila said. "I've never seen anything more beauti­ful.''
As Darian nodded and took her hand, entwining his fin­gers with hers, Sheila gazed dreamily up at the sky. She squeezed his hand, took a deep breath of the clean morning air—and couldn't help but wonder what this new day would bring in the strange land of the Unicorn Queen.