The Secret Of The Unicorn Queen -The Dark Gods (13 page)

    Okay, there was no reason to panic. She'd simply try another one, that was all. 

    "Rockaby baby, in the treetop . . . Uh. . . When the bough breaks, the . . . Uh . 

    She couldn't remember the rest of it! Those cold wisps of mist kept creeping into her brain and confusing her. 

    No! Quick, try something else! 

    What, though? What? 

    One times one is one, two times two is four . 

    How long she kept that up, Sheila didn't know. But all of a sudden the eerie, alien pressure vanished. As she stood there shaking, panting as though she had just run a long, tough race, she heard a faint, dry whisper of a voice speaking to Kumuru. 

    "That is a strange youngster," the alien voice intoned. "Strange indeed." 

    "What do you mean? How strange?" 

    "Strange," the whisper insisted. 

    "She's just a girl, that's all," argued Kumuru impatiently. "She's flesh and blood, like everyone else. She's mortal, like everyone else. How can she be strange?" 

    "Ahh . . ." It was a long, dusty sigh. "Her mind is strange." 

    "What are you saying? That she's insane?" 

    "Nothing so simple." The voice paused for a long while, then sighed again. "A puzzle: The patterns of her mind, her thoughts, are like no other in this world." 

    Ha, of course they're not! thought Sheila. That's because I'm not from this world! 

    Kumuru was shaking his head. "I don't care about the patterns of her mind! Why won't my magic work against her?" 

    "Your magic?" asked the voice. 

    "Forgive me," Kumuru said quickly, but he didn't sound repentant at all. "I mean our magic, of course. The magic you so graciously lend me. The magic that isn't working! Why?" 

    "Were you not listening?" Sheila thought she heard the faintest hint of anger in that dry, whispery voice. "To successfully 'work' magic over someone—as you so crudely put it—the magician must be familiar with that someone’s mind or, more precisely, with the currents of energy therein." 

    Is that the way a devil talks? Sheila wondered in amazement. It doesn't sound evil at all. It sounds like a schoolteacher! 

    Kumuru wasn't too happy with the lecture, either. Pacing restlessly back and forth in front of his gleaming throne, he kept interrupting with "Yes, of course," and "Go on, go on!" 

    But the voice ignored him and his growing frenzy of impatience. As calmly as a professor in a lecture hall, it continued. "Normally, there is enough similarity of culture, of race, of species, for such familiarity with others' mind-energies to be an instinctive thing for a mage, no problem at all." 

    "Yes, but-" 

    "But in this case . . . since we you call the Dark Gods cannot fathom the patterns of this child's mind, neither we, nor, of course, you, can work any magic over her at all." 

    The voice paused as though pondering an intriguing problem. Or, Sheila thought uneasily, it might have been silently communicating with the other Dark Gods—wherever they might be lurking. "We have decided," it said at last, so suddenly that Sheila jumped. "Despite the girl's youth, she can only be an accomplished sorceress. There is no other way to explain why her power is so very foreign from all else in your world." 

    When Kumuru, all at once staring thoughtfully at Sheila, didn't answer, the voice prodded, "Well? Are you content? Have I your permission to depart?" 

    "Hm?" the king asked absently, still regarding Sheila with sharp interest. "What's that?" 

    The voice sighed. "May I or may I not depart?" 

    "Oh. Yes. Go. By all means, go. 

    That seemed an awfully rude way to treat a being of Power. Apparently the voice seemed to think so, too, because it said, "You have a way of forgetting just who it is that grants you your precious magic." 

    Kumuru grinned sharply, holding up the Amulet of Power. "This does, demon. As long as I keep it whole and unbroken, you and your dark fellows must serve me. Don't you dare to forget it! And now—begone!" 

    There was the faintest rush of wind, and then Sheila felt that unseen presence vanish. Kumuru set the amulet on its little table and stepped gracefully down from his throne. "I fear I've treated you abominably so far," he said with a charming smile. "You understand: the pressures of royalty and such." 

    "Uh . . . of course. 

    "But that's no excuse. There's never an excuse for rudeness to a lovely young lady." 

    Lovely? echoed Sheila in silent wonder. 

    "Come," purred Kumuru, "will you forgive me?" 

    He really was so-o-o gorgeous, smiling at her like that! "Of course," Sheila repeated nervously. 

    "Good!" Kumuru moved to her side, cloak swirling dramatically about him. "How foolish I've been, seeing you only as a young girl with some small tricks of Power. Now I know differently." 

    Sheila licked her dry lips. "D-do you?" 

    "Oh, indeed! A sorceress such as yourself, young though you still are, would be a rare prize." 

    "Hey, wait a minute! I'm not anybody's 'prize'!" 

    Kumuru bowed urbanely. "A bad choice of words, I admit it. What I meant to do was ask you a question: Why not join me?" 

    "What!" 

    "Why do you look so startled? Surely, as a sorceress, you have ambitions! Think how an alliance with me could fulfill them!" 

    "I don't know if I'm as ambitious as all that," Sheila said sarcastically. 

    "Only because you haven't thought about this fully." Kumuru moved even closer, his dark eyes gleaming. "What is it you most desire? Ah, I know! Surely a young sorceress desires knowledge? Think, now: were we allies, the libraries of a hundred lands would be yours. Wise men would come to you with wondrous scrolls containing rare and terrible spells of Power far beyond your dreams." 

    "Uh ... Thanks, but no thanks. I’m happy with my dreams the way they are.” 

    For a moment an angry frown furrowed Kumuru's brow. Then it faded, and his charming smile returned. "Wise child! What fills your dreams, then? Beautiful treasures, perhaps? Picture them: paintings and statues by the most famous of artists, tapestries woven by hands so skilled that the figures in them seem to live, the wonders of every land brought before you for your delight." 

    "I think I'd rather see artwork kept safely in museums.” 

    Kumuru blinked, taken aback. "Then what would you have? Jewelry? Ah, yes, of course. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds. Ropes of shining pearls. The sparkle of gold, the gleam of silver . . ." He moved slowly around her, his cloak slithering softly along her arm, making Sheila shiver. "Or finest raiments, perhaps," Kumuru added, his voice as silken as the cloak, "to best display your growing womanhood, satins and furs, clothing more lovely than ever worn by mortal woman. 

    "No . . . I don't think so." 

    "Come now, my lovely one, my little sorceress. Think! We are both young, ambitious, powerful. Join your powers to mine, and we will create a force such as none has ever known. Join me, and no one will stand before us. Join me—and together we will rule the world!" 

    Sheila took a deliberate step back. "Thank you, but I'd really rather not." 

    Sudden anger blazed up in Kumuru's eyes. "Enough of this game!" he roared. "Are you fool enough to say no to Kumuru?" 

    "I guess I am. Sorry." 

    "Sorry! I'm offering you a chance for enormous Power, unlimited Power! How dare you refuse me!" 

    Kumuru was ranting like a spoiled brat. Now that he wasn't playing the charmer, his eyes were so cruel… 

    Yes, Kumuru was gorgeous. But one look at those burning eyes, and Sheila could think only of the ugliness within. 

    "Well, yes," she answered him softly. "I'm afraid I do." 

    "You fool! You little vixen—so be it!" With a wave of his hand, Kumuru once more summoned his rock-men. “Take her away! Throw her into the chambers below this hall." Kumuru glared at Sheila. "If you will not join me, little one, you shall still serve a useful purpose. You shall make a worthy sacrifice at the time of moon-dark! Now: take her away!" 

    Where was she? What was this place? A bare room, as far as she could see in the dim light . . . dark, dank . . . It had to be a prison cell. But, no. Judging from the mounds of odds and ends piled in the corners of the room, it hadn't been meant to hold prisoners, only tools and other equipment. A storage room, that's what it was. And it was located somewhere beneath the audience hall. 

    But how had she gotten here? The last thing Sheila could recall was that hall, and Kumuru glaring at her, then signaling his rock-men, and . . . and . 

    Suddenly it all came back to her. Just before the rock-men grabbed her, the King of Samarna had blown a cloud of dusty white powder in her face. It hadn't been anything magical, of course, not after all the stuff the voice had told Kumuru. Sheila guessed it must have been some sort of drug, to keep her quiet until he could get her safely locked up. 

    Sheila yawned again, a long, satisfying yawn, then grinned. Kumuru had done her an unintentional kindness with that drug—he had given her a good night's sleep. 

    But was it still night? The only light was the faint glow filtering in through an air slit high in one wall. Sheila couldn't tell if the glow was reflected sunlight or the yellow light of a torch. Sheila sat up in alarm. What if that was torchlight? What if she had slept the day around? That would make it night, all right—the night of the dark of the moon! 

    The night of sacrifice! 

    Sheila bit back a cry of sheer panic. She had to get out of here! She had to find Pelu and Dian. And rescue Illyria. And stop Kumuru and his Dark Gods! Sheila groaned in despair. Why not go ahead and save the whole world while she was at it? 

    Calm down, she told herself. Before she tried any heroics, she first had to find a way to unlock this disgustingly sturdy door. 

    But that was easier said than done. She couldn't reach the lock at all, or the hinges, and of course Kumuru hadn't left her the backpack, or her sword, or even a dagger, so she couldn't try to cut her way out. 

    With a worried frown, Sheila turned away from the door, trying to come up with some other idea. Maybe if she pretended to fall ill, and yelled for help? Then, when someone came to investigate, she could overpower him and escape. 

    No, that wouldn't work, either. The only guards around were probably those awful rock-men. She couldn't see them answering a call for help. Nor, in her wildest imagination, could she see herself overpowering them. 

    Still, it was worth a try. After all, Sheila thought wryly, it always seemed to work in the movies! 

    "Help?" she called tentatively. "Help me!" 

    That wasn't even loud enough to startle a mouse. Taking a deep breath, Sheila tried again.