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“He's got a friend, too!" whispered Darian as a second man stepped out from behind a nearby rock. He was striped in many bright colors from head to foot, And he, too, held a bow and. flaming arrow poised and ready to shoot. No sooner had he shown himself than yet a third man, this one with bright red skin and long straight orange hair, appeared.
"Eh-ett-eli-eli~eeeelihlihhheeeej'' trilled the orange man in a high frightening voice.
"What is he saying?" whispered Darian.
"I have no idea," murmured Sheila, "but I say we get out of here—fast!" But even as she and Darian inched their way backward toward the unicorns, the striped man let his arrow fly It narrowly missed Sheila's cheek and whizzed just over Morning Star's saddle into the ocean.
"Let's go!" shouted Darian, jumping up onto Wildwing. In a flash Sheila had mounted Morning Star and was racing down the shoreline beside him.
Another flaming arrow flew just in front of Morning Star's nose, causing the unicorn to rear back. "Okay, girl, it's okay. Just keep going," urged Sheila, not quite sure if she was talking to her unicorn or to herself!
Luckily, the strange men were on foot and their arrows soon fell well short of their targets. By the time Sheila and Darian reached the steep path back up to the encampment, there was no sign of the three attackers.
Wordlessly, Sheila and Darian climbed up to the flat, sandy patch where Illyria and Zanara-Ki had already built a fire. "What is it?" Illyria asked when she saw their frightened faces.
Darian leaped from Wildwing's back. "There are strange men down on the shore," he reported, quickly describing the multicolored men and their flaming arrows.
"We've come farther south than I realized," said ZanaraKi, who had been listening to his story as she stacked wood on the fire.
"Do you know who these guys are?" asked Sheila.
"They are the Hickorites, a tribe that lives in rock caves. They are sometimes called the People of the Black Sea Rock. I should have realized from the darkness of this rock that we were getting close to them."
"They are clearly not friendly to outsiders," Illyria thought aloud. "Perhaps we should travel past them by night."
"Not at all," said Zanara-Ki. "The Hickorites hate Ankzar passionately. Their numbers were once fourfold what they are now, but Ankzar's armies wiped them out. The only Hickorites who survived are these, who traveled north to escape him. They are a warm and hospitable people."
Darian hooted in disbelief. "Warm and hospitable!" he repeated, pushing up the short sleeve of his brown tunic to reveal a red burn where a flaming arrow had grazed him. "Is this a mark of their friendship?"
Sheila winced and had to avert her eyes at the sight of the painful-looking burn. Illyria immediately tore a strip of material from the hem of her tunic and, soaking it with water, began tending her brother.
"They thought you were spirits," explained Zanara-Ki.
"Why would they think that?" asked Sheila skeptically.
"Because it is their belief that only the dead venture over the land with unpainted faces and bodies."
“Was that paint on them?" asked Darian through teeth clenched in pain as Illyria wrapped the makeshift bandage over his burn. "I thought maybe they were really that color."
"No, the Hickorites all paint themselves. The warriors are especially colorful," Zanara-Ki explained. "They even dye their hair.''
"We saw," grumbled Darian.
"If they thought we were ghosts, how come they weren't afraid?" asked Sheila as she held a plate of water up to Morning Star. "They didn't exactly run off screaming at the sight of us.
“I'm sure they were terrified," said Zanara-Ki. "But it is the Hickorite way not to run from anything, not even the dead. The fact that Ankzar forced them to flee is one of the many reasons they loathe him so intensely."
''Did they think Ankzar and his soldiers were ghosts?" Sheila wondered.
"No, though they wear it very differently, the people of Queelotoo all apply some small amount of face paint."
"How do you suggest we approach these Hickorites, then?" asked Illyria.
"With painted faces and bodies, of course."
Illyria gazed up at the sky. "There are yet several hours of daylight left to us," she said. "We shall first paint ourselves and then go pay a call on our colorful neighbors. If they are indeed friendly, we may bed there more comfortably. If they are unfriendly . . . the darkness of night will cloak our escape.”
"The Hickorites use natural dyes to paint themselves said Zanara-Ki. "I suggest we do the same,
Sheila followed Zanara-Ki back down the steep path to the ocean, where they collected various rocks that Zanara-Ki identified as suitable to their purpose. Meanwhile, after commanding Darian to rest, Illyria went into the woods to pick some colorful berries.
Back at camp Zanara-Ki took two smooth burnt-orange rocks and poured a little water over one of them. She rubbed the wet rock very hard with the second rock until it gave off a coppery paste, which she used to draw an orangish line down the center of her forehead.
Zanara-Ki then rubbed two white and yellow speckled rocks together. These gave off a deep brown-yellow paste. She reached out and traced a line under Sheila's eyes, across her nose, and over her other eye. "That's a Hickorite warrior mark," she explained.
Illyria beat some red and blue berries on two separate rocks until there were two piles of pulp. Using her fingers she smeared her own forehead, first with a broad line of blue, then with a red line directly below it.
"I just thought of something," said Sheila. Digging in her pack she pulled out a small round container of iridescent purple-colored zinc oxide she had tossed in as an afterthought. "Come here," she said, leaning over to Darian and painting his nose bright purple.
“What's that?" he asked, twitching his nose.
"It's stuff we use at home to keep from getting sunburned,'' she told him. "They just make it purple for a goof."
"A what?"
"For the fun of it," she explained.
"Your people sound very strange sometimes," he said.
Sheila thought about that for a moment. "I guess in some ways they are.”
A half hour later Sheila was riding single file with the others up a steep, sandy path. Their destination was a mountain of volcanic rock which stood wide and flat-topped against the sky. Illyria and Zanara-Ki had surmised that since it was so large, it probably held the most caves and was where the Hickorites lived.
Sheila's face was slashed with color from the berries and rocks, and she had used the ash of a burnt piece of wood to rim her eyes in black. The makeup made her feel wild and fierce. She suddenly understood why people in her world had once put on war paint. She felt transformed into another, more ferocious self.
Sheila had to admit that her friends looked almost frightening with their newly painted faces and bodies. Illyria had smeared her arms with blue and run the purple zinc oxide through her blond hair in streaks. Zanara-Ki wore mostly orange and yellow in lines of various thicknesses, and Darian had painted himself in a camouflage pattern of purple and yellow. In a strange and scary way Sheila thought it made him look extremely handsome and dangerous.
So far no more flaming arrows had whistled past them, but Sheila couldn't get over the feeling of being watched. By the time they reached the flat base of the mountain, the sun was setting, washing everything in gentle blues and pinks. They pulled their unicorns up into a row and stood, listening. All they could hear was the distant crashing of the waves below them. Then Quiet Storm neighed and waved his head off to the right.
They looked in that direction and saw three figures scramble out of openings in the rock. Their leader was a large man covered in red dye with a long mane of tangled yellow hair that fell to his waist. He said something in a language Sheila couldn't understand
Illyria dismounted and met him. "We come as friends," she said in her own language.
"I know your tongue," the man said. "I will speak it with you. Why do you seek us?"
Illyria explained the reason for their journey. The man who said his name was Tingwa shook his head sadly when he heard what was happening to their unicorns. "All the great Hickorite herds of horses were lost in that way. That is why you see us on foot here today."
He walked over to Morning Star and peered into her blue eyes. Sheila was surprised that the unicorn held still while he pulled down her lower lip. "As I thought, this one has the beginnings of the weakness. I see signs of it in all your beasts," he told Illyria. "It is early, but sadly I tell you these animals will fall as all their brothers and sisters are now falling."
Sheila stroked Morning Star's neck. She felt a sick knot in her stomach at the man's words.
"That is why we must reach Queelotoo as quickly as possible and stop this evil," Illyria spoke bravely.
"Come," said Tingwa. "I can help you. You will bed with us this night. Leave your beasts here. They will be safe, and there is no pathway wide enough for them to climb."
The group dismounted and unsaddled, then put out food and water for the unicorns. "Rest, Morning Star," Sheila crooned, trying to push her fears for the unicorn out of her mind. She knew Morning Star was sensitive to her every thought, so she was determined to be strong and positive-thinking.
They followed Tingwa and his warriors into an opening in the mountain from which he had come. It was dark and cool inside the rock as they made their way up a steep path. At some points they were almost climbing hand over hand.
Finally they emerged onto a ridge about forty feet wide. Set behind it was a series of deep, wide-mouthed caves. All around the ridge, brightly painted people dressed in coarse brown cloth did the everyday tasks of living—cooking, bathing, mending clothing.
Tingwa led Illyria's band inside a cave and sat them down to a simple but tasty meal. The food was served by a small woman with braided black hair who wore several yellow stripes under her eyes. She seemed to be Tingwa's wife.
Sheila could see that the warriors were indeed painted more vibrantly than the average person. She found the little children especially adorable with quick dabs of color spotted on their cheeks and foreheads.
After the meal Tingwa settled back on a great bearskin rug. "You are in luck, for this night our scouts will be returning from Queelotoo. We sent them to make sure Ankzar is not moving into our territory and to aid our allies who may come under attack. They will bring you news of what to expect in that wicked land of evil."
Tingwa's wife returned with several young girls who were obviously her daughters. Giggling and ducking their heads shyly, the girls set out thick, furry blankets for their guests.
A few minutes later a boy of about sixteen or seventeen entered the cave. Tingwa rose and embraced him, and the two exchanged a few words in their own language. Their resemblance was so strong that Sheila could tell the boy was Tingwa's son. Like his father, he was painted red from his head to his waist. He wore trousers made of the same coarse material that most of the people wore. Unlike his father's, this boy's hair was cut short.
''My father tells me you ride against Ankzar," the boy said, speaking to them in their language. His almond-shaped brown eyes took them all in. When his gaze fell upon Sheila, he held it there a little too long, causing her to turn away shyly. Despite his red paint, he had a certain proud attractiveness—and he seemed to know it.
Darian stood. "Yes, we have overthrown Dynasian to the north, and we will undo this tyrant as well,'' he boasted.
The boy eyed Darian suspiciously. "You are the leader of these women?"
Darian looked uncomfortable. "We ride as companions and equals," he said. He glanced quickly to Illyria, who nodded her head ever so slightly to indicate that she wouldn't challenge that statement.
"I see," said the boy with a hint of mockery in his tone.
"Vasim," Tingwa spoke in a deep austere voice. "The day that you are a full warrior and grow your hair, then you may challenge another man." Humbled, Vasim bowed his head to his father, but he shot an angry glare at Darian.
"My son has just returned from the land of our enemies," Tingwa explained to Darian. And then, turning to Vasim, "Tell us what you have learned," he commanded.
Vasim went on at some length about the dangers he and his scouting party had encountered in Queelotoo. Each story seemed to feature Vasim as the brave hero who saved the day. And each was directed toward Sheila, who tried not to meet his fiery eyes. Though she found him unbearably arrogant, she couldn't help but be flattered by his obvious admiration of her.
"I am proud of your bravery, my son," said Tingwa impatiently, "but have you learned anything that will aid our friends in their pursuit?''
Vasim thought a moment, and then his eyes lit up. "Ah, yes. Ankzar has made contact with a great and mysterious god of the future. The god was lured down to the world by Ankzar’s new wizard and captured!"
Sheila gasped in horror as the full meaning of Vasim's words hit her.
"What is it?" Illyria asked.
"It's Dr. Reit!" Sheila cried. "Mardock has himi"Back To Chapter Listings!
Chapter 1: Haunted Days, Sleepless Nights
Chapter 2: Transported
Chapter 3: Return to Campora
Chapter 4: Into the Wilderness
Chapter 5: Reunion
Chapter 6: The Unicorns' Lament
Chapter 7: Spellbound
Chapter 8: Stops Along the Way
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
Email: Nikki