Skin Manager -- Change Setting: Always use [ Random Skin | This Skin ] -- Preview and Select Skins


  Contents | Archives | Past Issues | Contributors | Guidelines | About Us | Forums

The Red Unicorn

Rebecca D. Bruner

The old woman—with her ominous, unicorn shield—makes Mirrin uneasy, and so does her insinuation that the girl might have been spared for a reason.
 


Fiction
Fantasy

The urgent clanging of bells wrenched Mirrin from slumber. Weary from gathering medicinal herbs in the thin mountain air, she had only meant to rest a moment, but long shadows now stretched behind the trees. She scrambled to her feet, and ran to the edge of the cliff.

Her eyes widened with horror as she looked down to see the people of her village scurrying in panic. The odor of burning thatch smote her nostrils. Armed men with torches swarmed through the streets, setting houses ablaze. A swelling crowd fled in the direction of their lord’s fortress, seeking refuge, while the church bells pealed the alarm. Mirrin stifled a sob.

She hoped desperately that her own parents were among the throng flooding into the keep, though she knew joining them would be impossible. The climb down the cliff was treacherous. Long before she could reach the bottom, Rillec the Wolf and his mob would have laid siege to the castle.

Trembling, she peered into the forest. The fair folk were rumored to haunt these woods. Mortals who saw such creatures were seldom seen again. The few who returned would sigh their lives away, eaten up with an insatiable longing for just another glimpse of an elf or unicorn.

Once more, Mirrin stared into the angry flames. No matter what might be lurking in those woods, it couldn’t be more dangerous than the band of outlaws down below.

Mirrin turned and fled into the forest’s deepening gloom. She ran until her feet were raw and her lungs on fire. She was on the verge of collapse when she glimpsed the lime-whitened walls of a humble cottage in the moonlight. Mirrin staggered forward, and knocked at the door.



Firelight danced over the strange woman’s face, revealing a beauty worn away by years of care. Mirrin’s gaze wandered upward to the stone chimney behind her hostess. A great black shield, emblazoned with a rampant red unicorn hung above the mantelpiece. The image glowed like molten metal in the firelight. Mirrin could picture the creature shaking his proud head in fury and impaling his enemies with his terrible horn.

She shivered and studied the woman with growing apprehension. A shield that magnificent didn’t belong in a peasant’s hut. The scowling old woman didn’t look much like a fairy, but perhaps Mirrin should not have been so quick to accept her hospitality, or to tell her own story…

“You are very lucky,” the woman said, “though you likely haven’t the wit to see it.”

Her reproachful tone startled Mirrin.

“Perhaps you think you’d be safer with your loved ones…” The old woman shook her head. “They’re already as good as dead. Rats in Rillec’s trap.”

Mirrin’s voice quavered. “What will he do to them?”

“Rillec is not called ‘Wolf’ for nothing. He’s cunning and tenacious. He’ll assail the castle with catapults and flaming arrows. His men will dig under the foundation until your lord’s fortress crumbles around him. If that should fail, he will wait for winter. Starvation and disease will prey upon your people, until they have no more strength to resist.”

“Is there no hope?” Mirrin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

The women gazed up at the shield with a wistful expression. “If Rillec were challenged by the Knight of the Red Unicorn, he might be defeated.”

“Would Rillec really agree to a single combat?”

“He has a score to settle with the Unicorn Knight. He’ll accept the challenge. Pride will drive him to his doom.”

“Even if he were killed, would his followers lift the siege?”

“Once their leader is dead, Rillec’s men will desert or fight amongst themselves.”

Mirrin studied the fantastic shield. “Do you think the Unicorn Knight would agree to come and help us?”

“That may depend upon you.”

“How do you know all this?”

Her hostess leaned back and stared into the embers. In a rich, melodic voice she began to tell her tale.



 

More...

View PDF format. | View HTML format.

Click Here for Easy-to-Read B&W Format

Copyright 2008, Rebecca D. Bruner. All rights reserved.

Rebecca has loved writing stories since she was a young girl.  She studied English in college and was especially fascinated by historic medieval literature.  She is a volunteer Art Masterpiece guide, who leads discussions about art with elementary school students, a Bible study coordinator and teacher for "Heart of Faith" women's ministry, and the mother of two brilliant and talented children.  Her primary goal as a writer is to share her joy in telling stories with people who will find joy in reading them.


Contents