Andre Norton - Year of the Unicorn

No, it was not the land itself which did not welcome man, it was rather what brooded over that territory. For as we rode I knew a heaviness of spirit, a fear, of what did not know. This grew the more with every mile, until I had to summon power of will against crying out, that my voice might break that shadow spell.

We came at last to higher ground and here I saw first the handiwork of man, for a wall of boulders had been yet up, standing perhaps the height of two men or a little ore, roofed above with an untidy thatching of tree limbs and brush. Or so I saw it. For I heard Kildas say:

“My lord, fair indeed is this hall!” Then once more I put will to the task of seeing as the Riders would have me see. Thus I, too, rode into a court—where stone was cunningly wrought and finely carved wood roofed the buildings set around. Herrel arned to me, saying:

“This is our biding place until we go hence, my lady.” As I dismounted all the fatigue which should have been mine from the hours behind rne, struck, and I think I would have fallen had Herrel’s arm not been there to steady me. Of the rest, it was a dream of which I could not sort out true or false, a dream which became sleep indeed...

Until I awoke in the dark! And beside me there was quiet breathing so that I knew I had a bedfellow. I lay taut and tense to listen. Save for that come and go of breath there was no sound. Only I had come from sleep at some summons, the call was still clear.

It was very dark, I could see only denser shadows against the lighter. Moving with caution I sat up in bed, harking ever for any change in that small sound to my left. The room was warm as if a fire blazed on a hearth where there was neither flame nor fireplace. I wore my shift only yet I was not chilled—not outwardly. But in my body there was a spreading cold. All of a sudden it was very necessary to see—to see not only the room, the bed, but most of all what lay upon that bed and slept so soundly. My bare feet were on deep fur, skins must make a carpet. I moved on one step at a time, sweeping my hands before me lest I stumble against some piece of furniture. How did I know that somewhere before me lay a source of light and that would satisfy my desperate need?

A wall—across its surface my hands moved with haste which was not of my conscious willing. A window—surely this was a window—shuttered and with a bar across. My fingers tugged at the bar. I thrust at the shutters, sending them flying open. Moonlight—it was very clear and brighter than I had ever seen it before, so bright as to dazzle my eyes for a moment. “Ahh—” Voice—or snarl?

I turned to look to the bed I had left. What lifted heavy head and looked at me green-eyed? Fur, sleek and shining fur, the fanged mask of awakening fury—A mountain cat, yet not a cat—but also death. The lips wrinkled, showing even more the fangs meant to tear, to devour—It was horror beyond any horror I had ever dreamed upon.

This—this you have chosen!—

In that moment by the words which rang in my head did evil defeat itself. Maybe with another it would have succeeded—but for me that broke the spell. And what I looked upon now was two, one over lying the other, furred hide above smooth skin, a beast mask over a face—only the green eyes were not two but one. And if they had flashed battle on their opening, now did they show intelligence and knowledge.

I went towards that thing which was now beast, now man. But because I could see the man I was no longer afraid of what shared my chamber. Though of that which had awakened me, sent me to the window—of that I was frightened.

“You are Herrel—” I said to the beast-man. And with my speech he became wholly man, the beast vanishing as if it had never been.

“But you saw me—otherwise—” He made a statement, he did not question.

“In the moonlight—I did.”

He moved, out of the bed until he stood at its foot.

Faced towards the door I could now see, he moved his hands in the air, at the same time uttering words in a tongue I did not understand.

There was a glow by the door which was not silver clear as the moon, but carried the green tinge of the Rider lamps, and from that glow were two small runnels of light, one to the bed where he had lain, the other to my feet.

Once again I witnessed the mergence of man and beast, this time because of anger burning in him. But control won and he was man again. Herrel caught up a cloak and threw it about his shoulders, went to the door. Then, his hand already set to the latch, he looked back at me.

“Perhaps it is just as well—” he could have been arguing with himself. “Yes, it is better—Only,” now he did speak to me, “let them see that you have had a fright. Can you scream?”

What play he intended I could not guess, but I had faith in his wisdom for us both. Summoning up what art I could, I screamed, and surprised myself with the shrill note of terror I put into that cry.

No longer was the building silent. Herrel threw open the door and then ran back to me. His arms drew me dose as one who would comfort and his whisper in my ear suggested further display of terror on my part.

There was more outcries, running feet, and then lamp light Hyron was there, looking at us. Captain of the Riders I had seen him only at a distance, now he wore the face of a man wanting a satisfactory explanation.

“What chances here?”

Herrel’s moment of counselling aided me. “I awoke and was warm—too warm. I thought I must open wide the window—” Now I raised my hand uncertainly to my head as if I felt faint. “Then I turned and saw a great beast—”

There was a moment of silence and Herrel had the breaking of it.

“Look you—” that was more order than request. He pointed before me to where that green line crawled across the floor. Faded now from our first sighting though it was, it was still visible.

Hyron looked, and then, grim faced, he raised his eyes again to Herrel.

“You want sword right?”

“Against whom, Captain? I have no proof.”

“True enough. And it would be well not to seek it—in these hours.”

“Do you lay that upon me?” Herrel’s voice was very cool and remote.

“You know where we must ride and why. Is this the time for private quarrels?”

“The quarrel is none of my provoking.” Hyron nodded, but I felt that his assent was given reluctantly, that he had taken the matter ill, as though this was some trouble pushed upon him which only duty made him consider seriously.

“This game or others like it must not be played again.” Herrel continued. “There is no nay-saying cloak-spell. Did we not all swear to that, weapon-oath?”

Again Hyron nodded. “There will be no trouble.” And that also rang like an oath.

When we were again alone I faced Herrel in the moonlight.

“What arrow was aimed at us this night?” But he did not answer that, rather did he look at me very searchingly and ask:

“You saw a beast, yet you did not flee?”

“I saw a beast and a man, and of the man I had no fear. But tell me, for this was clearly sent by malice, what chanced?”

“A spell was set, to disgust you with me, perhaps to send you running to another who waited. Tell me. Why did you seek the window?”

“Because I was—ordered—” That was it! I had been ordered from my sleep to do just that. “Is it Halse?”

“It might well be. Or there are others—I told you, none believed that you or any woman would choose my cloak. Having accomplished this. I have in a little belittled their power in their own eyes. Thus, they would like to see me fail now. By frightening you with shape change they would drive you away.”

“Shape change—Then you do wear this guise when it is needed?”