How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Thirty-One

Delizah was very happy; all of her dreams were coming true. She was riding on the back of a dragon behind her hopelessly devoted Prince Vestin and soon she would be queen of half the world. Her father, Mercutian, was mending a wondrous cloak of starcloth and soon he would have harvested enough fur from the filthy dogs to have a whole wardrobe of it; she'd never have to struggle to keep up her disguise again. Even the timing was perfect. They had chosen this day for arrival specifically because her father had predicted a full solar eclipse. They would show up riding a dragon to save the day just as the sun reappeared from behind the moon. In the growing light, the Canerian army would appear in the distance and they would be welcomed as heroes of providence. Everything had gone just as she and her father had planned.

She wondered for a moment as to why her father hadn't stopped by. She supposed that it was a long trek from his tower and he was having too much fun with his new toy to be bothered with their little war. She was disappointed that he'd miss the big event, but she wiped that from her mind. This was her day and she was going to enjoy it to its fullest.

She saw the eclipse starting and gave her prince a gentle nudge. 

Prince Vestin needed little encouragement. His eyes were wide with the excitement of conquest and thirst for glory. In his mind, this day was his and the tiny bits of meat below him were his for the taking. He raised his stolen sword triumphantly and the dragon pulled away from the army, climbing high so it could swoop in for its glorious arrival.

Kish sat mounted on her great elk, filled with thirst for battle. Her entire life had been spent in preparation for this day. She could feel the faith of every man in her army pouring through her as she looked out over the plains to the great rocky bridges that spanned the chasm which separated the armies. Even over the rattling of antlers and the war songs of her men all around her, she could hear the roar of the great river far below. On those bridges, the battle would be fought and as many men would fall into the raging water as would fall to the sword. She would not fall. She could not fall. She would stand on a pile of dead and her men would rush in behind her until the enemy was only a memory.

She thought of her father who should be beside her and of the cowards who had poisoned him. They would pay for that with their blood. She thought of her brother Ulrat who should be king, exiled and shamed. They would pay for that with their heads. She thought of young Karle, innocent and naive. He had been used. For that, she would take their hands and cut out their tongues. Her mind strayed to her gentle prince Prinin. How he had been taken from her. How she had sworn to protect him. How he had loved her. For that, she would tear their beating hearts from their chest. She licked her teeth and started her charge through the tall grass to meet her enemy as the clear sky began to darken and fade to red. An eclipse was a great omen, she thought. 

Today would be an auspicious day.

Kazé had barely slept for a week now, running day and night, living only on the strength the moon gave him. It was rising late in the night now and setting late in the day. He had run until his feet bled to reach his pack in the northern mountains. There, he knew, Ulrat had taken refuge with his kin, along with his loyal elk riders. He gathered them and mount a rescue for Kish and Prinin. He had spent the entire trip praying that they would be held as prisoners and that he wasn't mounting a suicide mission to rescue the dead. Prince Ulrat took little convincing and the wolves, although not fond of the hot, arid lands of their Sun Jackal cousins, would follow their alpha through all the hells just for the asking.

They hadn't taken two steps out of their mountains when the plans changed. A scout sent from the south to find Ulrat passed the news of Kish's safe return, the loss of Prinin, and the treachery of the Canerians. Ulrat was filled with redoubled rage and the ride across the plains started with new purpose and vigour. Ulrat would lead his people as king and avenge his father's murder.