Unicorn Point (48 page)

Fleta knew it was true. She was awed by the realization; the evidences of the parallelism had been there all along, but she had never appreciated them this way. She had to succeed!
 
“But an somehow the frames be merged—what o’ the folk?” Fleta asked. “Willst become just one set o’ folk for both?”

“Aye.”

“But I—“

“Will merge with Agape, methinks. And all others, as their pairs exist. It be a monstrous notion.”

“A monstrous notion!” Fleta echoed, intrigued and appalled. She liked Agape, but how could she be merged with her? What then of Mach and Bane—and Tania? Of their triangle?

That was all Neysa would say. Neysa had never been much for words, and once she had made her point—her Unicorn Point—she was done. She was old, and they did not want her to risk the rigors of their mission (or to be slowed down by her: that was unsaid), so they left her at the Herd, pondering her insight. The Unicorn Point—what mixed promise and mischief lay there!

Another day’s travel brought them to the spot at which the flute-amulet pointed—and there was nothing there. It was on the slope of the Purple Mountains, in the Elven Demesnes, with nothing but silvery flowers growing. They paused, baf fled. First the mystery of the Unicorn Point, then this!
 
It was Alien who figured it out. “The Flute be under ground! The little folk keep it not up in plain sight, and their warrens go ne’er direct. We must find the entrance!”

They quested about, and in due course discovered an elven^ entrance. Fleta assumed woman form, removed her amulet, and handed it to Tania. “Mayhap this will protect thee aught.
 
I must broach them now. Al and I will do it, while thou dost hide, in case.”

“In case what?” the bat boy asked.

“Elves be not always friendly.”

He nodded, sobering. Then Fleta knocked at the portal, alerting the elves. ‘

A man appeared. He was about the height of Alien, but considerably stouter. His clothing was the color of platinum, and his skin light blue. “Well, two prisoners!” he exclaimed, drawing his sword. “A fair damsel and a servant boy.”

“Nay!” Fleta cried. “We be ‘corn and bat, on a mission o’ surpassing import!”

“Not any more,” the elf said grimly.

Fleta didn’t want to have to fight him, but she could not let herself be considered a prisoner. She would have to change to unicorn form, which would be competent to deal with the sword.

Then the elf man turned, startled. His eyes glazed. “Oh, aye,” he said. “These be emissaries.”

Tania had stepped in. Out of contact with her, Fleta could neither see nor hear her other than dimly; the dwindling power of the amulet was more effective with only one person to cover. Evidently she had touched the elf, and used her Eye to fascinate him. Now, in effect, he was their prisoner.
 
The elf led them into the passage in the hill. Wan light struggled down so that it was not completely dark, but it remained uncomfortably close. She would not be able to as sume unicorn form here; she would be jammed into the walls.
 
At least Al would be able to move; as a bat he could readily handle this region.

They came to a chamber wherein sat an extremely wizened elf, obviously a leader. He wasted no time in amenities. “Thy magic be that o’ the Adverse Adepts. Know, 0 intruders, that we be overtly neutral, but privately we favor Stile and will help thy side not.”

Fleta smiled, relieved. “Canst thou be Pyreforge, friend to my foal’s grandsire? I be Fleta, and this be Alien, son o’—“

“And thou be helping the wrong side!” he snapped. “Be glad I grant thee the courtesy o’ truce, else—“

“Nay, we changed sides,” she cried. “Now Mach and I be with Stile, only my foal be captive, and there be enchant ment on Blue and Red and Bane, and we alone be free to seek-“

“How can I know that? That Evil Eye—“

“Tania changed too! She be aiding Stile now!”

Pyreforge stared at her. “An thou canst convince me o’ that, with her Eye hooded, mayhap my aid be thine.” It took time, but in due course the old elf was satisfied. He turned over the invaluable Platinum Flute. It was in pieces, in a box, but could be readily assembled at need.
 
“But we know not how to use it,” Fleta said. “The amulet guided us here to it, and. my dam says we must merge the frames, but—”

“Let me research in my references.”

More time passed. The elves gave them bread and water while they waited, treating them with courtesy now that their loyalty to Stile was known. Tania had to give up the fading amulet of privacy and become fully apparent.
 
“Ah, now I see!” the elf exclaimed as he saw her clearly.
 
“Thou hast the stigmata o’ love for Bane! That be why thou didst change sides!”

Tania was taken aback. “Shows it thus?”

“Ordinarily, nay. But thy whole nature has changed, and that be evident. But an the frames merge, what o’ thee?”

“0’ me?”

“Thou dost love the man o’ this frame, who be not with Fleta. Thine other self loves the rovot, who be not with the alien. But—”

“The alien!” Al exclaimed. “My namesake!”

“Aye,” Fleta said. “When she and I exchanged, and she were in Phaze, she helped thy parents get together, so they named thee after her. Likewise there be a child in Proton frame, Mach tells me, named ‘Corn, though me thinks I con tributed not to that.”

“Mine other self!” Al said, pleased.

“As I were saying,” Pyreforge continued gruffly, “An the frames merge, so will thy two selves—and there will be one man with one woman. Bane will have the alien, and Fleta will have Mach, all together in one, and none be open for thee. So what o’ thee?”

Tania looked crestfallen. “I know not,” she said faintly.

This was the matter that Fleta had not been able to raise. It was the separation of Mach and Bane that made compromise possible; without that separation, and the two distinct frames, there would be no free man, or free aspect of him.
 
“Then canst thou labor to merge the frames, an it be pos sible?”

Tania considered. “I sought to vamp Bane, to win him o’er to our side—1 mean the Adverse Adepts—and make a fitting mate for me. I wanted to marry below my station not. But the ploy turned, and he won me to his side, which now be Stile’s, and made o’ me his creature though ne’er did he touch me. Now must I do what he would have me do, and I would save him though I lose him. I can explain it not else.”

“It will do,” the old elf said. “Take the Flute to Blue and it will rouse him and enable him to throw off the geis on him.
 
Then will he know what to do.”

“There be the answer!” Fleta exclaimed. “To fetch the Flute and bring it to him!”

“Else would we ne’er give it thee,” Pyreforge agreed. “An this instrument fall into enemy hands—”

“I will die before that happen,” Fleta said, and the air around her rippled.

“Aye,” the elf agreed.

Soon they were on their way again, trotting north toward the Blue Demesnes. They passed through the Werewolf De mesnes, but they neither paused there nor made themselves known, for fear the enemy would discover them.
 
Fleta carried the Platinum Flute, in its box, tied to her barrel. She could feel its latent power, warming her side and lending strength. She knew it could revive Stile!
 
In two days they were near the castle of the Blue De mesnes. But how were they to get inside? They knew that there would be formidable magic barring their way, and that their amulet would not protect them from discovery here, even if any real strength remained in it.
 
“Mayhap they be busy elsewhere, not guarding this,” Al said hopefully. “I can fly in and spy it out, and if naught happens to me—”

“Aye, go,” Fleta said. She did not like putting him in danger, but she couldn’t risk bringing the Flute near until she knew it was safe.

Alien changed form and flew low and circuitously toward the castle. In due course he returned. “Tan be there, guard ing—but he be sleeping!”

Without a word, Fleta advanced on the castle in her human form. It would have been faster in her natural form, but she didn’t want the sound of her hooves waking the Adept. Tania followed. They took advantage of whatever cover they could find.

They crossed the moat and entered the castle. It was un naturally silent; the animals that usually came for healing were gone, and the normal activities of cooking and working were still. The geis had been laid on it, and it was in effect deserted.

Fleta stepped into the main chamber. There was Stile, sit ting frozen, only his eyes alive. His magic involved singing; he could not sing, and so was helpless. Fleta repressed her horror, and tiptoed toward Stile.

“Hold, mare.”

She jumped, turning to face the voice. It was Tan, awake!
 
Of course he had feigned sleep, to trick Al and lure them in here; now he had sprung his trap all too neatly.
 

“Look not at him!” Tania cried.

But it was already too late. The Adept’s gaze was on her, meeting her own. The volition drained from her body as his eyes loomed large.

A bat flew at Tan, going for his eyes. But the Adept merely nicked a glance at Alien, and the bat stiffened and fell to the floor, unable to fly. Fleta had some resistance, being a unicorn, but the vampires did not. The boy had done a brave and foolish thing, and now was stunned. The terrible gaze resumed its reduction of her defense; the Adept wasn’t even straining.

Tania leaped in front other. “I will stop him!” she cried. “Take the Flute to Stile!”

But Fleta, tagged peripherally by the Evil Eye, could barely move. She could feel her volition recovering, but the process was distressingly slow. Only her right hand, holding the Platinum Flute, was fully functional; it had not been affected by the Eye. Indeed, it was the source of her recovery; volition was extending along her arm and toward her shoulder. She had thought the power of the Evil Eye was exaggerated; now she knew that her contempt for it had been because of ignorance. Tania had never used it on her, and her respect for Tania was rising.

Meanwhile, Tania blocked off the Adept Tan, countering his gaze with hers. Neither moved; the Eyes were all.
 
“Dost think to oppose me, turncoat?” Tan inquired with infinite scorn. “Thou canst not, and I will tell thee why. I am the Tan Adept, not thee, and this be not because I be male, but because my power were e’er greater than thine.” Fleta, staring at Tania’s back, saw the woman shiver. He was speaking truly!

“Moreover, thou has lost the edge thou hadst,” he continued inexorably. “Thou fool, thou didst let Bane turn the worm on thee, draining thee o’ thy nerve. Now thou dost be mushy soft, thine Eye weak.”

Tania’s body shook. She was losing the contest, and Fleta still lacked control of her legs. She was a unicorn, resistant to hostile magic, but the Adept had stunned her in a moment.
 
If she tried to walk to Stile, she would fall.
 
“Were thou not my sister, it would go hard with thee. As it is, I will put thee merely to sleep while I deal with these animals. At least thou has done one thing right: thou didst bring to me the Platinum Flute, that else would have been their only remaining threat.”

Fleta jammed the box containing the Flute forward, into Tania’s back. “Take it!” she said. “It will give thee strength!” She slid the instrument across the woman’s back, around her body to her arm, so that she could grasp it.
 
Tania’s body straightened at the contact. The Flute was lending her strength! Despite Tan’s brutal words, Tania’s power was nearly the equal of his, and she was able to fight back. She took the box, her gaze still locked with that of her brother, and slowly opened it. Stage by stage she assembled the Flute, and her posture showed that she was still gaining strength. At last she held it before her.
 
Now it was Tan’s turn to shake. The Flute made the difference, and Tania was beating him back! Her Eye was becoming stronger than his.

Tan tried to back away, but in a moment came up against the wall. Tania followed, holding the Flute, never relinquishing her gaze. She had to fascinate him, or he would fascinate them all and take the Flute.

Alien stirred. Fleta, almost completely recovered, went to him, picking him up. Her contact helped; he lifted his mouse like head, his big eyes blinking.

Now Fleta was free to take the Flute to Stile—but she didn’t have it, and couldn’t take it until Tania had finished with Tan.
 
Tania was winning, but it was obviously a debilitating contest; perhaps never before had Eye been opposed to Eye.
 
At last Tan sank to the ground, his eyes clouding. He had lost; his mind was captive to his sister’s. But Tania was little better off. She wavered, and Fleta hastened to support her before she fell. She seemed dazed. Her tan hair glistened with a sheen of sweat, and her eyes were turning bloodshot. Even with the help of the Flute, she had had to give her all in the effort to prevail.

The castle shook. There was a rumble from below. Then the stone floor clove asunder, and the Purple Adept rose through it, buoyed by a waft of smoke.

There was no time for thought. Both Fleta and Alien knew what to do. They hurled themselves at the Adept, Fleta changing to her natural form as she did so.
 
Purple raised his hand. The floor bucked, throwing Fleta to the side. A jet of purple gas shot out of a fissure and swept Alien out of the air. Both landed at Stile’s feet, half stunned.
 
How true it was: ordinary folk had no chance against any Adept!