Andre Norton - Year of the Unicorn

At length I recovered enough to crawl between two pinnacles of rock, and from my back I loosed the fur rug which I had knotted to me with strips of my robe. This I wrapped about me and so huddled in the poor shelter I had found.

There was a moon that night. It had ridden high in the sky as I climbed but now it paled, and so did the glittering stars. I had reached the crest of the guardian cliff, so I must now be on a level with the top of the gate barrier. What I had to face I did not try to guess. I was so fired my mind seemed to float away, out from my aching body.

I did not sleep, I drifted in an odd state of double awareness which was puzzling. At times I could see me huddled between my rocks, a bundle of furred robe, as if another Gillan crouched on one of the pinnacles, detached, uncaring. And at other times I was in another place where there was warmth, light, and people whom I tried to see more clearly but could not.

The scratch on my side had stopped bleeding, the salve had done its duty, and the rug kept out the major part of the cold. But finally I stirred uneasily, the pull on me urging me on. It was past dawn and the rising sun streaked the sky with red. We would have a fair day—we? I—I—I—Gillan who was alone—unless Fortune turned her face utterly from me and the Hounds came baying up my scent.

Beyond the pinnacles which had protected me during the last hours of the dark was a broken country, such a maze of wind worn rock in toothy outcrops as could utterly bemuse and confuse the would-be traveller. The cliff must be my guide and I should keep to its lip in order not to become lost.

The wall which was a barrier was perhaps twelve feet or more thick—beyond it the same narrow valley continued—no different from the one out of which I had climbed—save that here the walls were sheer past any hope of descent. I must move along the edge hoping to find more favourable territory beyond.

Here in the heights the sun was not veiled and struck fair across the stone, bringing with it warmth, fleeting though that might be. And now I noticed a difference in the rocks about me. Whereas they had been grey, brown or buff-tan, here they were a slatey blue-green. But as I paused by one and let my eyes move to the next outcrop and the next, I perceived that these colourful pieces, many of them taller than my head, were not natural to the terrain they rested on. And also that, tumbled as they were, they yet followed a given course, as if some titanic wall had long since tumbled into rubble. They grew to be taller and taller and more thickly set together, so that many times I had to detour and back-trail to find a path among them. Which course in time drew me farther from the edge of the cliff which was my guide.

I rested and ate of the rations I had plundered from the Hounds. The stuff was dry and tasteless, and it did not give the satisfaction of food, but I thought it would renew the energy I had lost. As I sat there I studied those blue-green rocks and their piling. They were not finished, bore no signs of ever having dressed or worked; yet they did not arrive here by natural chance, of that I was sure.

Now that I stared at them, I shook my head, closed and opened my eyes. As in the wedding dell of the Riders, I again faced two kinds of sight, melting and running together until I was utterly confused, made dizzy by that flowing and ebbing before me. One moment there was an open pathway a little to my right. But as I watched that closed, rocks rising to bar it. I was sure this was not born from my fatigue, but rather of a shadowing and clouding of mind. If it continued to last I would hardly dare move, lest my eyes betray me into dangerous mis-step.

This time my will could not control it, except for very short snatches of time. And each attempt to do so wore on me heavily. Also any prolonged survey of that changing landscape made me giddy and ill. In me the tie urged forward—now—with no delay. But to obey—I could not.

I was on my feet again but the shifting before my eyes made me cling to the rocks. For it seemed that the ground under my feet was no longer stable. I was trapped in this place and there was no escape.

Then I closed my eyes and stood very still. Gradually the dizziness subsided. When I pushed one foot cautiously forward it slid over solid, unchanging ground. I felt before me, grasped rock and drew myself to its reassuring solidity.

Perhaps the trouble was now past. I opened my eyes and cried out—for the whirl about me was worse than it had been, giving no promise of any end. With my eyes closed the world was solid, when I looked upon it there was only chaos. And I must go on.

Shouldering the bag of simples and the rug, I stood for a moment trying to summon logic and reason. I did not believe that my eyes were to blame for this confusion, but that some spell or hallucination was in force. It did not confuse touch, but only sight. Therefore I ought to be able to advance by feeling my way, but to do so would lose me my guide—of the rim of the cliff, the landmarks I had set upon. I could wander about in circles until either I fell or wasted away.

Lacking a guide—but did I lack a guide? It was so thin a cord to which to trust one’s life—that which drew me ever onward after the Riders. Could that bring me, blind, through this maze? I did not see that I had aught else to try.

Resolutely I closed my eyes, put out my hands, started in the direction which beckoned me. It was not easy and my progress was very slow. In spite of my hands before me I crashed against rocks, to stagger on, bruised and shaken. Many times I paused to try sight, only to sicken from the vision which was not only double now, but triple, quadruple, and maddening.

I could not be sure if I were making any progress; my fears might be very well founded and I might be wandering in a circle, utterly lost. Only the tugging at me continued, and I believed, as time passed, I was growing more alert to its direction, found it easier to answer. My hands grazed rocks on either side. But then my outstretched palms flattened against a hard surface. Not harsh contact with rough stone—I slid them back and forth across smoothness. And that was so foreign I dared to open my eyes.

Light, dazzling, threatening to engulf me, to burn me to ashes. Yet no heat against my hands. It was blinding and I dared not look upon it.

Back and forth I examined it by touch up and down. It filled a gap between two walls through which I had come, stretching from beyond a point above as high as I could reach, down to the ground. There was no break, or even rough spot on the whole invisible surface.

I edged back, tried to find some other way past. But there was none, and my guide pulled me ever into the defile which was so stoppered. At last I dropped to the ground. This, then, must be the end. No way forward except one barred, and no guide back if I strove to retrace my steps. I dropped my head to rest on my hunched knees—

But—I sat not on stone—I rode a horse. Daring to open my eyes because this I could not believe—I saw Rathkas’ tossing mane, her small ear. We were in a green and golden land, fair to look upon. Kildas—there was Kildas—and Solfinna. They wore flower wreaths on their heads and white blossoms were twisted into their reins. Also they were singing, the whole company sang—as did

And I also knew that this was one side of the coin of truth, just as the twisted rock maze and the barrier of light was the other. I wanted to shout aloud—but my lips shaped only the words of the song.

“Herrel!” In me rose the cry I could not voice—“Herrel!” If he knew, he could unite the whole—I would not be Gillan ahorse with the brides of the Dales, nor Gillan lost among the rocks—but whole again!

I looked about me and saw the company strung out along a green banked Jane. And the Riders, too, wore flowers upon their helms. They had the seeming of handsome men, not unlike those of the Dales, with the beast quite hidden and gone. And very joyful was that company—yet he I sought was not among them.