Andre Norton - Year of the Unicorn

He was looking intently into the room, searching, once his eyes swept across me without pausing. Still I read suspicion in his manner. Though he had not drawn it, there was a sword in his baldric, and, being of this land, perhaps he had also other guards and weapons which did not show as openly.

There was another door to the chamber, but it was closed, and to open it might instantly betray me. If he would only come farther into the room, I could slip along the wall and be out—But that helpful move he did not seem inclined to make.

It was a struggle to keep him so sharply in my sight. I was fast discovering that it was easier to “see” the buildings than the people who inhabited them.

I saw his nostrils expand, as if he would sniff me out. Always his eyes searched the room, his head turned from side to side. Then he spoke, in the language I did not understand.

His words had the rising inflection of a question. I tried to hold my breath, lest the sound of the quickened breathing I could not control would reach his ears.

Again he asked his question, if question it was. Then at last, to my great relief, he took several steps into the room. I began my sidewise creep to reach the door, afraid my boot heels would scrape. But the floor was carpeted with a woven stuff which had been, in turn, needleworked in a sprawling design and that deadened any sound. I was in a foot of escape when the stranger, who by now reached the table from which I had taken the bread and cheese, tensed, swung around. At first I thought that by some ill-hap he had seen me. But, though he was now staring straight into my face, there wag no change in his listening, wary expression. Only—he was coming for the door.

With a last effort I was at it, through, intent on leaving the hall behind me. He shouted. There was an answer from the road. I saw another figure before me. Desperately I threw myself forward, one arm held out stiffly. That met solid flesh and bone, though what I saw was a faded blur. There was a cry of surprise as the newcomer reeled back. Then I was out, running in the street, away from the village, back to the road which I was beginning to consider a haven of safety.

Sounds of cries, of pounding feet behind me. Did they see me, or was I safe by that much? I dared not look back. And I let my defence against illusion drop, saving all my energy for that dash across field.

On the verge I stumbled, sprawled forward, to lie for a few seconds to quiet my racing heart and labouring lungs. When I at last sat up and turned my head it was to face nothing but meadow and sky. But I could hear. There was still shouting back there, and now the sound of a horse galloping, nearer and nearer. I caught up my booty bundled in the rug and began to run, along the road, away from the vanished lane. When at last I paused, breathless, there was nothing to be heard, save the twittering of a bird. I had aroused suspicion but they had not really seen me. I had nothing to fear, at least for now.

But still I put more distance behind me before I sat down on a grassy hillock beside the road and tasted my spoils. Better than any feast the Riders had spread for their brides it was on the tongue—that bread pulled apart in ragged chunks, the cheese I crumbled in my finders. The Hound rations had given me energy, but this food was more than that—it was life itself. After my first ravenous attack I curbed my appetite. Perhaps a second such raid could not be carried out and I must hoard my supplies. A bird hopped out of the bushes to pick up crumbs, chirped at me as if asking for more. I dropped some bits to watch their reception. There was no doubt that the bird saw me, as had the fox, the squirrels, the other birds during my day’s travel. Why then was I a wraith to those made in the form of humankind? Was it the other side of their defence? For now I was convinced that this coating of illusion was their defence.

Already the sun was well west. Night was coming and I must find some kind of shelter. Ahead I could see a darker patch which might mark a wood. Perhaps I should try to reach that.

I was so intent upon my goal that only gradually did I become aware of a change in the atmosphere about me. Whereas I had felt at ease and light of spirit all day, so now there was a kind of darkening which did not come from the fading of the day, but within me. I began to remember, in spite of my struggle to shut such mind pictures away, the terror of the night before, and all the other shocks of mind and body which had come upon me since I left the Dales. The openness of the land beyond the borders of the road no longer meant light and freedom, but plagued me with what might lie hidden in illusion.

Also—the sensation of being followed became so acute that I turned time and time again, sometimes pausing for minutes altogether, to survey what lay behind me. There were more birds fluttering and calling, doing so in increasing numbers along the verges of the road, or flying low about me. And I had an idea that things peered and spied from farther back.

So far this was no more than a kind of haunting uneasiness. But now I did not like the idea of night in this land. And the trees ahead which had promised shelter at my first thinking threatened now.

It was a wood of considerable size, spreading from north to south across the horizon. Almost did I decide to halt where I was, lie to rest on the verge of the road apart from fields which could hold so much more than I saw. But I did not—I walked on.

These trees were leafed, though the green of those leaves had a golden cast, particularly to be marked along their rib divisions and their serrated edges so that the effect of the woods was not one of dark, but of light. The road continued to run, though the verge vanished and boughs hung across as if the trees strove to catch hands above. It was narrower here, more like the track in the heights. I dared not allow my thoughts to stray in that direction.

There was a lot of rustling among those leaved branches and around the roots of the trees. Though I sighted squirrels, birds, another fox, yet I was not satisfied as to an innocent cause for all that activity. To me it was rather that I was being carefully escorted by a woodland guard of bird and beast—and not for my protection!

Though I kept watch for anything which might promise shelter for the coming night, I saw no place which tempted me to turn aside from the road. And I had come to think it might be well to settle in its centre, hard though the pavement promised to be, rather than trust to the unknown under the trees.

It was then that the road split into two ways, each as narrow as a foot path. In the centre between those was a diamond shaped island of earth on which was based a mound, following the same outline as the portion of ground and levelled on its top. Set equidistant down there were three pillars of stone, that in the middle being several hands taller than the two flanking it.

They bore no carving, no indication that they were aught but rocks, save that their setting was so plainly the work of man, or some intelligence and not natural chance. Oddly, once I had sighted them much of my uneasiness fled. And, though the position was exposed, I was drawn to that earthy platform beneath the central pillar’s long shadow.

Slowly I climbed and unrolled the rug, sitting on it so that I could pull the flaps up about me when I wished. The pillar was at my back and I leaned against its support, while before me stretched the road, uniting beyond the point of the islet, to run on and on, though it was hidden by the trees not too far away.

Once more I ate from the bounty the inn had supplied, far less than I wanted. I was thirsty and it was hard to chew the bread, but the cheese had a measure of moisture and went down more easily.

It was past sunset now. I pulled the rug about my shoulders. The voices of the wood were many, a kind of murmur which kept me straining to identify just one sound and so bring a measure of the familiar past to comfort me in this strange present. But sleep was heavy on me, a burden weighting my tired body.