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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.

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Back To Chapter Listings!

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Chapter 1: Haunted Days, Sleepless Nights
Chapter 2: Transported
Chapter 3: Return to Campora
Chapter 4: Into the Wilderness
Chapter 6: The Unicorns' Lament
Chapter 7: Spellbound
Chapter 8: Stops Along the Way
Chapter 9: The Hickorites
Chapter 10: Across the Unknown Sea
Chapter 11: Queelotoo
Chapter 12: In Ankzar’s Prison
Chapter 13: The Words of Reemergence
Chapter 14: Simi's Revenge
Chapter 15: Sheila’s Magic
Chapter 16: Homeward Bound

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Email: Nikki