The Sign of the Unicorn

This is the first chapter of what I hope will be book one of a trilogy; the other two books will be titled 'Queen of the Sidhe' and 'King of Dragons'.

Finndharra ap Gwydion, lord of the Sidhe, champion of the High King of Tir Inna m Beo, was rudely snatched from sleep as the door to his chamber was thrown open, banging resoundingly against the wall. Like the warrior he was, Finndharra was instantly awake, rolling swiftly from the bed, his sword, Elfquist, already in hand. Clothed in nothing but his own naked splendor, he faced the intruder, a wide-eyed guardsman from the Ard Righ's personal escort.

"My-- my lord---" the guardsman stuttered, painfully aware that the faery lord could have gutted him in a heartbeat. "Myrddin ap Elphin---"

Just at that moment, the High King's wizard strode into the room, his black cape swirling around him like an ebony fog. His courage stretched to its limits, the guardsman fled the chamber. Even for a proven warrior such as he, the combination of the bared blade of the Ard Righ's champion and the presence of the sorcerer, Myrddin, was to much to bear.

Finndharra gazed myopically at the wizard from beneath a shock of black hair that tumbled rakishly over one eye.

"Good morrow, Master Myrddin." he greeted with more cheerfulness than he felt. "To what do I owe the honor of this early morning visit?" he asked, grounding the point of Elfquist in the deep pile of the wyvern skin rug beneath his feet.

Finndharra studied the wizard suspiciously, wondering if this was one of those abominable practical jokes that the otherwise serious Myrddin was so fond of playing on all the members of the court.

"Missing?" he questioned with the groggy miscomprehension of the rudely awakened. "What do you mean, missing?"

"He's probably just out hunting or hawking." Finndharra replied, not excessively concerned.

"I fear that is not the case, my lord." Myrddin replied. He reached into one of the deep pockets in his volumous cloak and drew out a parchment scroll, which he handed to Finndharra. The faery lord opened the scroll and read it, his eyes growing hard at the signature at the bottom of the missive.

"Malefas!" he hissed in disgust and loathing. "This cannot be! How could that knave get far enough into the Silver Palace to lay hands upon the king?"

Myrddin shook his head. "No one seems to know how Malefas breached the palace's defenses and spirited the king away, and by Dana, that is of no note-- it is done. What is of import is that Malefas holds the High King hostage... and moreover, he has taken the Lia Fail."

Finndharra stared at the magician in disbelief. The Lia Fail, in the hands of that villain! That alone stood Tir Inna m Beo in great danger. The Kingstone was the magic that held the very fabric of Faerie together. Without its power to maintain the Veil about the land, soon that mystic barrier would thin. If left so for more than the ripening of one moon, Tir Inna m Beo would once more merge with the lands of Men.

In the mists of time, before the men who worshipped the One God had come, Faerie and the land of Men had existed side by side, with human and faery mingling peacefully. Then, the followers of the Christ had come, bringing with them the determination that no god but their own would be worshipped. The inhabitants of Faerie were followers of Dana, the Earth Mother. They wanted no part of the Christian god; they only wanted to preserve their way of life. The Christ-followers began to insist at sword's point that the Tuatha de Danaan convert. A major conflict loomed on the horizon until Lugh Samildanach and Nuada Silverhand called upon Gwydion ap Don to help them erect the Veil of Mysteries, forever separating Faerie from the land of Men, forever rescinding the legacy of magic and the power of enchantment from the hands of all but a select few humans.

Thus it had remained until this day. Without the Lia Fail, the Veil would vanish, and a world in which humans neither believed nor remembered would once again be joined with the Lower World. Malefas must know this would happen, Finndharra thought. Why would he want that?

"To have soldiers for his army, of course. Myrddin informed him, seeming to have read the question in the faery lord's mind. "There are few in Tir Inna m Beo who would support Malefas' cause, which is, as you can plainly see, to ascend the High King's throne. In the Lower World, however, there are creatures of evil that one such as Malefas could easily call up and command. Humans present a danger to us with their very dreams, which are oft haunted by horrific beings created by their subconscious minds while they sleep. Malefas has the power to take those dream shapes and force life of a kind upon them... and he can people an army with them to come against us. I have already heard reports of beings that no follower of Dana has ever beheld in all of their lives being seen in the land. It is my belief that Malefas has already begun to bring these revenants across the Veil to augment such army as he has been able to raise from Forry Island. Thus, we have two tasks at hand. First, to recover the Lia Fail, and then to rescue the Ard Righ. Malefas is a formidable foe, Lord Finndharra. The labor at hand will not be easily accomplished."

"I had not expected that he would offer us the return of the High King as the prize for a game of fidchell, Master Myrddin!" Finndharra growled. "Tell me, did Malefas make off with the Kingsword as well?"

The wizard shook his head. "We must assume that he considers it impotent without the Lia Fail to empower it, and the High King to wield it, which is to our good fortune. Even without the Kingstone, the sword is so attuned to Rheghent that it will lead us to him, no matter where Malefas has secreted him, once we recover the Lia Fail. I am sure that Malefas would not be so simple minded as to keep both in the same place. The Ard Righ may be held at Forry island, but that is an conjecture which must be tested once we have dealt with the retrieval of the Lia Fail. And that, my lord, brings us to our first quandary..."

"There is but one being other than the High King who may lay hands upon the Lia Fail with impunity ... a white witch..."

Finndharra's black brows drew together in annoyance. "There are no more white witches in Tir Inna m Beo." he pointed out tersely."

"True, my lord." Myrddin agreed. "But I have knowledge of where one can be found..."

Finndharra caressed the blade of Elfquist menacingly. "I am losing patience with you and your riddles, sorcerer!" he said coldly. "Name the place!"

Even the High King's wizard knew better than to try the patience of the king's champion. "In the Lower World, my lord."

Finndharra's aversion was plain in his expression. "A human?" he inquired distastefully. "The fate of the Ard Righ of Tir Inna m Beo rests on the whim of a human female?!"

"Alas, my lord, this is so. Although they are rare in the Lower World, white witches can still be found there. Humans call them 'albinos'".

Finndharra sheathed Elfquist in the beaten gold scabbard that had been a name day gift to him from the High King, then pulled on leggings and a soft suede jerkin as he considered Myrddin's claim.

Myrddin had expected that Finndharra would order this, so he had brought a scrying crystal with him. He drew it from a pocket in his cloak, a piece of convex glass the size of a dining plate, rimmed in gold, and standing on three legs in the shape of rampant unicorns. The shallow face of it was opaque and fogged. Finndharra stared into it expectantly as Myrddin murmured an incantation. After a moment, the milkiness in the crystal began to fade and a shape slowly took form, Soon, he could see a face coming into focus; the face of a stunningly beautiful woman with silver-white hair, milky skin, and pale, pale lavender eyes.

"Yes." Myrddin agreed. She is nearly as beautiful as the fair Eda'in, my lord... though somewhat pallid and sickly looking, even for a human..."

Finndharra did not find her so. He was unable to take his eyes from the enchanting image in the crystal, mesmerized by the witch's beauty, which was only slightly marred by the look of extreme sorrow on her lovely face. He wondered what troubled her to make her look so sad.

"Look closely, my lord..." Myrddin instructed. "See the pendant she wears? Of sacred silver, a unicorn rampant against a crescent moon... the talisman of Dana..."

Finndharra looked into the crystal once more and saw that Myrddin spoke truly. Around the witch's slender neck was Dana's consecrated symbol.

"Gaining the witch's aid means that someone must pass through the veil and bring her back to Tir Inna m Beo." Myrddin remarked.

"And just how do you propose that we gain her cooperation?" Finndharra asked sarcastically. "Excuse me, my lady, but we need you to help rescue the king of a land in which you undoubtedly do not believe, and unfortunately it will be a very dangerous mission. Chances are that none of our party will remain alive at the end of it."

"Lord Finndharra...." Myrddin began pettishly. "Regaining the Ard Righ is a matter of supreme importance. We cannot leave the choice of whether to help us or not to the whim of a human... and especially not so capricious a creature as a human female!"

Finndharra was silent a moment. "So... we must bring her by force?" It was obvious that he was not happy with the idea.

"Aye, my lord...." Myrddin agreed. "And since commanding the witch's unwilling company is of such importance, we cannot send just anyone across the Veil to accomplish the task...."

Finndharra's gaze snapped around to the wizard in sudden suspicion. "Surely you're not suggesting that I fetch the wench, Master Myrddin?"

"I am, my lord, but for a most important reason. The witch might be more sympathetic to our cause if you are her captor because you bear an uncanny resemblance to a human male to which she is inordinately attached."

Finndharra stared at the magician for several moments. The idea that he, Finndharra ap Gwydion, Lord of the Sidhe, champion of the High King of Tir Inna m Beo, should share any similarity with a mere human male was faintly nauseating. However, Myrddin spoke truly. No matter how distasteful the notion was, if such a likeness did exist, it would definitely be to their advantage.

"It will be as you say, wizard." he agreed finally. "I will cross the Veil and take the witch. But you, great sorcerer, will go as well."

Myrddin's eyes widened in surprise. "I, lord? But who will tend to Tir Inna m Beo while we are both absent from it?"

"Things can hardly grow worse in the short time we shall be gone, wizard." Finndharra replied acerbically. "I will cross the Veil, but in order for the witch to be of any benefit to us, I must also return. She is bound to be unwilling, and I cannot both subdue her and work the energies to return as well. I will need you to do that."

From the look on the magician's face, Finndharra knew that he would be dealing with more than one unwilling companion. However, the sorcerer could hardly be faulted for his hesitation after what had happened to him on his last sojourn in the Lower World.

"Fflick and Fflinn will accompany us..." the faery lord continued. "We may need their thieves' talents. See that they are sent for."

"How many others would you take to abduct one woman?" Finndharra inquired impatiently. "Would you leave the footprints of an entire troop of Sidhe all over the human world? No doubt, the Ard Righ would cheerfully have us drawn and quartered should we commit such an offense.... "

Myrddin smiled to himself. It was no secret that he and the King's champion were not boon companions, but he did admire Finndharra's directness and daring. The son of Gwydion was brave and bold, and the Ard Righ had done himself well in naming the faery lord his champion.

"It will be done as you desire, lord." he said, making a slight bow to Finndharra. "When do you wish to make a start?"

"By the bye, my lord, perhaps you should send the daughter of Owein ap Urien back to the quarters of her father before he discovers that she is missing."

With that, he departed, leaving Finndharra staring after him in surprise. And from beneath the pile of sleeping furs, there came a feminine giggle.

About this page

The font on this page is Verdana, one of the Windows core fonts.

The music is "Lothlorien" by the ever-talented Enya. For the 'unofficial' Enya homepage, visit Celts.dk.

The graphics on this page were created using tubes from Rhonnie's Stuff and Star Tubes. It is unfortunate for all of us tube freaks that Rhonnie has closed her site down for lack of space.