The Hunt of the Unicorn, Chapter 2
Jan. 7th, 2012 07:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
minutia_rThe Hunt of the Unicorn
Chapter 2: The Unicorn at the Fountain
Chapter 1 | Chapter 3
Fandom: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci
Characters: Gabriel de Witt, Jed Farleigh, Elijah Pinhoe, Benjamin Allworthy, Molly the Unicorn, original characters
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,700
Summary: The unicorn stepped around the pool towards Elijah, who raised a wondering hand to its nose. Gabriel felt as awkward as if he had walked in on Geoffrey with his hand up the skirt of one of the maids—which he had done more than once.
Seventy years before the events of The Pinhoe Egg, a group of wizards goes shooting on the grounds of Chrestomanci Castle, and there's things abroad in the woods.
Note: The title of this story, as well as the chapter titles, comes from a series of tapestries made in the Netherlands around 1500. I'll be including the relevant tapestry with each chapter, because.
Oh and also: what I know about game shooting I learned in a mad scramble to research this story. Please feel free to correct my ignorance.
This one's for:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
coeurgryffondor.
"Wait," said Gabriel, but Elijah kept scrambling through the forest. Gabriel was glad that his gun had disappeared somewhere during his translocate; it was one less thing to keep track of as he scrambled after Elijah, pushing branches out of his face and trying not to trip over roots that the boy had cleared without slowing. He considered letting Elijah go and having done with it—whatever he was after it was nothing to do with Gabriel, or Amelia for that matter—but he couldn't shake the feeling that if he lost Elijah he would be lost, well and truly.
"Look," Gabriel panted, as soon as he was caught up enough with Elijah to make speech practical. "There are no unicorns. Not in this world."
"'Course not. You'd know, wouldn't you?" Elijah's friendly manner suggested that this was a joke, not on Gabriel, but on himself, or possibly on existence. Gabriel tried not to bristle. It wasn't Elijah's fault that Gabriel spent most of his time feeling that he didn't know half of what he ought to know, and would never catch up.
"They're huge creatures," said Gabriel. "Where would you hide them?"
"Ah," said Elijah. "Where are we now?"
Gabriel reached out instinctively with his magical senses, and was nearly sick. He missed a tree root and went sprawling, barely catching himself on hands and knees in the leaf mould, his mind a bright dazzle of confusion.
"Sorry," said Elijah, reaching out a hand to help him up. He stood unsteadily. "But you see what I mean."
It was true—the mirror Elijah had hung, and the larger spell it was part of, were doing their work. Create a space that wasn't anywhere, and you could hide anything in it.
Gabriel grumbled, "You might have made your point just as well with words." Or—might he? If the boy was under a compulsion not to speak, Gabriel could probably undo it, but he'd have to go carefully. "We're in Ulverscote Wood, aren't we? But so should Mr. Farleigh be, and the beaters." And the two hundred birds Monsignor Allworthy hoped to shoot, Gabriel suddenly remembered. None of them were in evidence. For all he could hear, the forest might have been empty except for himself and Elijah. The silence was as disturbing in its own way as his magical disorientation.
"They're around," said Elijah. "So we'd better hurry. No one knows these woods as well as Gaffer Farleigh."
They came to a stream, and Gabriel felt a twinge of apprehension for his shoes. But instead of leaping nimbly across it and leaving Gabriel to slog through anyhow, Elijah knelt by the bank and dabbled his fingers in the water. "Ah," he said. His face seemed illuminated from within; the freckles stood out in sharp relief all over it. Then he stood, and hurried upstream. Gabriel hurried after him. There were few enough trees by the bank of the stream that Gabriel's greater height made a difference; he kept pace with Elijah easily, and saw what was on top of the hill at the same time as he did.
There was a clearing, and a pool of water bubbling up from a crack in the rocks. Bending its head to drink, its horn dabbling in the water just as Elijah's fingers had done, was, yes, a unicorn. Nearly as tall as Gabriel at the shoulder, more dazzling in its whiteness than Elijah's mirrors. Its horn was a richer white, and its hooves seemed carved out of some dark wood, too delicate to hold its weight. Gabriel had no special love for horses, but even he was struck by the unicorn's beauty. Elijah simply stood and gaped.
The unicorn raised its head and spared Gabriel a brief glance before turning to Elijah. "Gaffer?" it said.
It wasn't the voice Gabriel would have expected a unicorn to have, if he had believed in talking unicorns, if he had believed in unicorns. Not inhumanly beautiful, but warm and rich and full of humor.
Elijah swallowed. "No," he said hoarsely. "No, I'm Elijah. You don't have to be afraid."
The unicorn stepped around the pool towards Elijah, who raised a wondering hand to its nose. Gabriel felt as awkward as if he had walked in on Geoffrey with his hand up the skirt of one of the maids—which he had done more than once. He tried to look anywhere but at the pair of them, but he wasn't quick enough to spot the movement in the trees, the raised muzzle of the gun, the crack and flash of the shot. Elijah was. He threw himself across the unicorn's flank, and his back exploded in a blossom of red, and an exalted grin spread across his face. It was the same expression he'd had when he'd foretold his own death. Clearly the boy had poetry in his soul. Gabriel couldn't think of anything stupider than poetry at a moment like this.
"Gaffer!" gasped the unicorn. "What's happening?"
It occurred to Gabriel that the unicorn was unfamiliar with the idea of guns. "We have to get away. Can you—" Of course the unicorn could translocate; that was why Mr. Farleigh had had a spell set up so that translocation made you sick and landed you in a place where someone was watching you from a tree. Which meant that Amelia—Gabriel pushed the thought away. Amelia had not been shot, as far as he knew. Elijah had. Gabriel knelt by the boy where he had fallen. His breath was still coming, loud and ragged, his skin was cold, and his eyes stared at nothing. It would be dangerous to move him, but perhaps not as dangerous as staying here, where loud halloos echoed through the woods which had been silent before, and a shotgun was being reloaded with a soft ka-chunk.
Gabriel hardly had to put any levitate into it at all, lifting Elijah across the unicorn's back. For all his long-legged grace, he was surprisingly light. Gabriel amended his question to, "Can you run?"
In answer, the unicorn hurtled down the hill, with Gabriel pelting alongside, and gunfire at their heels. In consideration of Gabriel, or Elijah, the unicorn was checking its speed, and Gabriel could get enough breath to pant, "Not this way—back the way we came—there's a spell—"
Not that Gabriel could have found his way to the tree where he'd met Elijah, but the unicorn did, surefooted and clearly using senses other than magic. When they were close, and Gabriel could feel the pull and spin of the mirror, he pulled with it, dizzily, effectively sealing the tree in an area of nonexistence within the area of nonexistence. It wouldn't be hard to guess where they were, once Mr. Farleigh and his beaters noticed that the spell had been disrupted, but Gabriel had bought them some time. Gently as he knew how, he lowered Elijah off the unicorn's back and on to the forest floor. His breath fluttered shallowly. All three of them were sticky with blood.
Gabriel could call Monsignor Allworthy. He'd be furious with Gabriel for losing Amelia, maybe even kill him as he'd threatened—but Gabriel did have eight lives left, and Elijah only had the one. It seemed a fair exchange. If even Monsignor Allworthy could be summoned here through the thicket of spells, and if he could get Elijah back through them to a doctor.
The unicorn bent over Elijah, not quite touching him with its horn. "I could heal him," it said, "but—he seems to be full of lead pellets."
"Birdshot," said Gabriel. "It's a weapon." He searched for some less obvious thing to say. "It goes very fast, and it can tear a person up inside."
"Yes," said the unicorn, "but I'm not sure it's safe to leave them in."
"I can get it out. Easily," said Gabriel. "But that's dangerous too. I'm not a doctor . . . ." Gabriel looked at the unicorn. The unicorn looked at Gabriel. "Together, then."
Gabriel put one hand on the unicorn's foreleg, and the other above Elijah's back. Slowly and carefully, he called to the shot inside Elijah, and felt the unicorn's magic flowing through him too, guiding the passage of the metal, mending and strengthening as it went. Soon Gabriel was left with a handful of lead, and Elijah with a shredded jacket and shirt, and a whole and pinkly healing back. His breath came quiet and steady, and the color had returned to his skin, but he didn't stir or open his eyes.
"It's up to the Gaffer now," said the unicorn.
"Why do you keep calling him that?" said Gabriel. "Isn't it how the country people say grandfather? Elijah's far too young to be anyone's grandfather." But, it came to Gabriel, he ought to be someday: old but hale, surrounded by children, grandsons and granddaughters on his knee. Gabriel found that he resented the fact that Elijah might never be a grandfather quite fiercely.
The unicorn snorted. "When you're my age, you'll find that half a century here or there makes very little difference," it said. "A Gaffer is more than that. It's the old blood, the ones who've lived in this country since the glaciers retreated—no offense to yourself, nine-lifer. But it's the Gaffers who carry the weight of the land with them, who stand between the Folk and the humans. It's been more than a thousand years since I was last in these forests, and it hasn't been easy to get back. I needed to speak to a Gaffer. And now that I've found one, he's . . . ." The unicorn tossed its head in what Gabriel could have sworn was a shrug. It sounded tired.
"The last time you were in these forests," Gabriel said, "my ancestors were probably still living in Babylonia. But I'll help you, if I can."
Chapter 2: The Unicorn at the Fountain
Chapter 1 | Chapter 3
Fandom: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci
Characters: Gabriel de Witt, Jed Farleigh, Elijah Pinhoe, Benjamin Allworthy, Molly the Unicorn, original characters
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,700
Summary: The unicorn stepped around the pool towards Elijah, who raised a wondering hand to its nose. Gabriel felt as awkward as if he had walked in on Geoffrey with his hand up the skirt of one of the maids—which he had done more than once.
Seventy years before the events of The Pinhoe Egg, a group of wizards goes shooting on the grounds of Chrestomanci Castle, and there's things abroad in the woods.
Note: The title of this story, as well as the chapter titles, comes from a series of tapestries made in the Netherlands around 1500. I'll be including the relevant tapestry with each chapter, because.
Oh and also: what I know about game shooting I learned in a mad scramble to research this story. Please feel free to correct my ignorance.
This one's for:
coeurgryffondor."Wait," said Gabriel, but Elijah kept scrambling through the forest. Gabriel was glad that his gun had disappeared somewhere during his translocate; it was one less thing to keep track of as he scrambled after Elijah, pushing branches out of his face and trying not to trip over roots that the boy had cleared without slowing. He considered letting Elijah go and having done with it—whatever he was after it was nothing to do with Gabriel, or Amelia for that matter—but he couldn't shake the feeling that if he lost Elijah he would be lost, well and truly.
"Look," Gabriel panted, as soon as he was caught up enough with Elijah to make speech practical. "There are no unicorns. Not in this world."
"'Course not. You'd know, wouldn't you?" Elijah's friendly manner suggested that this was a joke, not on Gabriel, but on himself, or possibly on existence. Gabriel tried not to bristle. It wasn't Elijah's fault that Gabriel spent most of his time feeling that he didn't know half of what he ought to know, and would never catch up.
"They're huge creatures," said Gabriel. "Where would you hide them?"
"Ah," said Elijah. "Where are we now?"
Gabriel reached out instinctively with his magical senses, and was nearly sick. He missed a tree root and went sprawling, barely catching himself on hands and knees in the leaf mould, his mind a bright dazzle of confusion.
"Sorry," said Elijah, reaching out a hand to help him up. He stood unsteadily. "But you see what I mean."
It was true—the mirror Elijah had hung, and the larger spell it was part of, were doing their work. Create a space that wasn't anywhere, and you could hide anything in it.
Gabriel grumbled, "You might have made your point just as well with words." Or—might he? If the boy was under a compulsion not to speak, Gabriel could probably undo it, but he'd have to go carefully. "We're in Ulverscote Wood, aren't we? But so should Mr. Farleigh be, and the beaters." And the two hundred birds Monsignor Allworthy hoped to shoot, Gabriel suddenly remembered. None of them were in evidence. For all he could hear, the forest might have been empty except for himself and Elijah. The silence was as disturbing in its own way as his magical disorientation.
"They're around," said Elijah. "So we'd better hurry. No one knows these woods as well as Gaffer Farleigh."
They came to a stream, and Gabriel felt a twinge of apprehension for his shoes. But instead of leaping nimbly across it and leaving Gabriel to slog through anyhow, Elijah knelt by the bank and dabbled his fingers in the water. "Ah," he said. His face seemed illuminated from within; the freckles stood out in sharp relief all over it. Then he stood, and hurried upstream. Gabriel hurried after him. There were few enough trees by the bank of the stream that Gabriel's greater height made a difference; he kept pace with Elijah easily, and saw what was on top of the hill at the same time as he did.
There was a clearing, and a pool of water bubbling up from a crack in the rocks. Bending its head to drink, its horn dabbling in the water just as Elijah's fingers had done, was, yes, a unicorn. Nearly as tall as Gabriel at the shoulder, more dazzling in its whiteness than Elijah's mirrors. Its horn was a richer white, and its hooves seemed carved out of some dark wood, too delicate to hold its weight. Gabriel had no special love for horses, but even he was struck by the unicorn's beauty. Elijah simply stood and gaped.
The unicorn raised its head and spared Gabriel a brief glance before turning to Elijah. "Gaffer?" it said.
It wasn't the voice Gabriel would have expected a unicorn to have, if he had believed in talking unicorns, if he had believed in unicorns. Not inhumanly beautiful, but warm and rich and full of humor.
Elijah swallowed. "No," he said hoarsely. "No, I'm Elijah. You don't have to be afraid."
The unicorn stepped around the pool towards Elijah, who raised a wondering hand to its nose. Gabriel felt as awkward as if he had walked in on Geoffrey with his hand up the skirt of one of the maids—which he had done more than once. He tried to look anywhere but at the pair of them, but he wasn't quick enough to spot the movement in the trees, the raised muzzle of the gun, the crack and flash of the shot. Elijah was. He threw himself across the unicorn's flank, and his back exploded in a blossom of red, and an exalted grin spread across his face. It was the same expression he'd had when he'd foretold his own death. Clearly the boy had poetry in his soul. Gabriel couldn't think of anything stupider than poetry at a moment like this.
"Gaffer!" gasped the unicorn. "What's happening?"
It occurred to Gabriel that the unicorn was unfamiliar with the idea of guns. "We have to get away. Can you—" Of course the unicorn could translocate; that was why Mr. Farleigh had had a spell set up so that translocation made you sick and landed you in a place where someone was watching you from a tree. Which meant that Amelia—Gabriel pushed the thought away. Amelia had not been shot, as far as he knew. Elijah had. Gabriel knelt by the boy where he had fallen. His breath was still coming, loud and ragged, his skin was cold, and his eyes stared at nothing. It would be dangerous to move him, but perhaps not as dangerous as staying here, where loud halloos echoed through the woods which had been silent before, and a shotgun was being reloaded with a soft ka-chunk.
Gabriel hardly had to put any levitate into it at all, lifting Elijah across the unicorn's back. For all his long-legged grace, he was surprisingly light. Gabriel amended his question to, "Can you run?"
In answer, the unicorn hurtled down the hill, with Gabriel pelting alongside, and gunfire at their heels. In consideration of Gabriel, or Elijah, the unicorn was checking its speed, and Gabriel could get enough breath to pant, "Not this way—back the way we came—there's a spell—"
Not that Gabriel could have found his way to the tree where he'd met Elijah, but the unicorn did, surefooted and clearly using senses other than magic. When they were close, and Gabriel could feel the pull and spin of the mirror, he pulled with it, dizzily, effectively sealing the tree in an area of nonexistence within the area of nonexistence. It wouldn't be hard to guess where they were, once Mr. Farleigh and his beaters noticed that the spell had been disrupted, but Gabriel had bought them some time. Gently as he knew how, he lowered Elijah off the unicorn's back and on to the forest floor. His breath fluttered shallowly. All three of them were sticky with blood.
Gabriel could call Monsignor Allworthy. He'd be furious with Gabriel for losing Amelia, maybe even kill him as he'd threatened—but Gabriel did have eight lives left, and Elijah only had the one. It seemed a fair exchange. If even Monsignor Allworthy could be summoned here through the thicket of spells, and if he could get Elijah back through them to a doctor.
The unicorn bent over Elijah, not quite touching him with its horn. "I could heal him," it said, "but—he seems to be full of lead pellets."
"Birdshot," said Gabriel. "It's a weapon." He searched for some less obvious thing to say. "It goes very fast, and it can tear a person up inside."
"Yes," said the unicorn, "but I'm not sure it's safe to leave them in."
"I can get it out. Easily," said Gabriel. "But that's dangerous too. I'm not a doctor . . . ." Gabriel looked at the unicorn. The unicorn looked at Gabriel. "Together, then."
Gabriel put one hand on the unicorn's foreleg, and the other above Elijah's back. Slowly and carefully, he called to the shot inside Elijah, and felt the unicorn's magic flowing through him too, guiding the passage of the metal, mending and strengthening as it went. Soon Gabriel was left with a handful of lead, and Elijah with a shredded jacket and shirt, and a whole and pinkly healing back. His breath came quiet and steady, and the color had returned to his skin, but he didn't stir or open his eyes.
"It's up to the Gaffer now," said the unicorn.
"Why do you keep calling him that?" said Gabriel. "Isn't it how the country people say grandfather? Elijah's far too young to be anyone's grandfather." But, it came to Gabriel, he ought to be someday: old but hale, surrounded by children, grandsons and granddaughters on his knee. Gabriel found that he resented the fact that Elijah might never be a grandfather quite fiercely.
The unicorn snorted. "When you're my age, you'll find that half a century here or there makes very little difference," it said. "A Gaffer is more than that. It's the old blood, the ones who've lived in this country since the glaciers retreated—no offense to yourself, nine-lifer. But it's the Gaffers who carry the weight of the land with them, who stand between the Folk and the humans. It's been more than a thousand years since I was last in these forests, and it hasn't been easy to get back. I needed to speak to a Gaffer. And now that I've found one, he's . . . ." The unicorn tossed its head in what Gabriel could have sworn was a shrug. It sounded tired.
"The last time you were in these forests," Gabriel said, "my ancestors were probably still living in Babylonia. But I'll help you, if I can."
