Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [165]
Immediately the clearing shimmered as blue and orange light streaked through the mist. The image of the black stallion appeared, confidently mirroring the steed as it leaped at the hapless unicorn.
But now Kamerynn perceived the image and dodged the stallion’s murderous assault. As the stallion stumbled past, the unicorn reared high, his heavy forehooves landing with crushing force upon the stallion’s forehead. The horse dropped instantly to the ground, dead.
With a gurgle of choking hysteria the Bloodrider lunged toward Robyn. The young druid tried to break away across the wide stone, but the ghoulish creature met her with horrifying speed. His eyes seething like the guts of a volcano, Laric’s clawlike hands reached for Robyn’s throat.
And then Laric’s death scream split the night, deafening Robyn with its shrill intensity. The Bloodrider soared into the air above Robyn as the unicorn’s horn emerged from his chest, clean and white as bone.
The wasted, rotted body tossed like a rag doll upon the impaling horn as the unicorn bucked and reared.
Finally Kamerynn threw his head back and kicked his forelegs toward the full moon. His whinny of triumph resounded through the night as the body of the Bloodrider sailed into the mist to fall, broken and forever useless, among the rocks.
Robyn stood, frozen, for several seconds. She saw Genna limping toward her, and the two women collapsed into each other’s arms for a minute, breathing heavily. A slender form hesitantly crawled up Robyn’s leg, and she hoisted Newt to cradle him in her arms.
“My, my,” clucked Genna, inspecting the wounds upon the little dragon. She murmured a low prayer, stroking the soft scales. Robyn’s eyes widened as she saw the gash along Newt’s neck heal and a stubby bud appear over the scar of the lost wing.
“Now now, my little hero,” whispered Genna as Newt wriggled in delight up to Robyn’s shoulder. “You must treat that wing gently – it will take some time to grow back.
“But until then, you’ve someone to carry you,” said the druid, sadly turning to Kamerynn. She scratched the unicorn’s broad forehead and stroked the ruined eyes. “Just a little longer, my child, and then you can rest.”
Genna’s manner became businesslike.
“Come come, child! You must ride now, while there is still time!” She took Robyn by the arm. “I almost forgot! Your prince gave this to me, for you.” She took the staff from across her back and offered it to Robyn.
Robyn took the shaft of wood reverently, though it seemed as if the fire of the goddess’s power had been extinguished from it. Suddenly, Genna snatched it from her.
“Of course! You don’t know about charging it! And tonight, of all nights, you can find out,” Genna held the staff toward the full moon, chanting a rolling phrase. The words entered Robyn’s mind and would stay there, forever. And once again the staff hummed with power.
“Every month, my dear, during the full moon, you can bless it with the might of the goddess. One time, each month, it will bring forth her power at your command. Use it wisely, for it is the blood of our Mother herself!”
Quickly the druid told Robyn about Tristan and the others, their pursuit of the Beast. “Go to him! Ride like the wind, girl!”
“But ride what?” questioned Robyn, not daring to guess what Genna meant.
In answer, Kamerynn trotted to her side and knelt upon the soft loam. Reverently, feeling a sense of deep awe, Robyn climbed onto the unicorn’s broad back. Scampering like a squirrel, Newt leaped to Kamerynn’s shoulders, then his head, and soon perched like a figurehead upon the great horn.
Before Robyn could say farewell to the Great Druid, Kamerynn sprang forward. In seconds, they vanished into the mist, but the paleness of the light was augmented by the many colors Newt added to the illusionary fog.
*****
The Beast reached the Darkwell and paused in shock. The wide, polluted pool it remembered had been reduced to a small pool of scum in the center of a brown wasteland. Kazgoroth’s eyes took in the