Bad Unicorn Page 16

  It is therefore widely accepted that evil is typically the product of an impressionable mind inspired by someone who’s a bit of a jerk. The power of good, comparatively, works in the same way. It just takes an impressionable mind combined with someone who’s actually nice. Unfortunately for the universe as a whole, the jerk-to-nice ratio seems somewhat lopsided.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  IF A TREE STOPS HUMMING, WILL ANYBODY NOT HEAR IT?

  (THE MAGRUS—PRESENT)

  THE MONKS OF THE ORDER OF THE TREE OF ATTENUATION WERE generally a quiet bunch, padding around their monastery in hooded robes. Each monk wore a small leather bag tied to his belt, and carried an odd-looking mallet. After passing through the main door, Princess and Magar had eventually found the monastery grounds in an area open to the sky and surrounded by stone walls. A high-pitched resonant hum, just on the edge of human hearing, filled the place. An acolyte had found the two wandering about and led them along various walkways to find the abbot. On the way they passed the mystical Tree of Attenuation itself, which grew in the exact center of the monastery compound. The tree had bark that was nearly perfectly white and silver leaves that swayed as they caught the small drafts of air that tumbled down from the high walls. Princess could almost swear the humming increased ever so slightly when the leaves caught the wind.

  “I never imagined it was so beautiful,” Magar said as they walked past.

  “I’m sure the world is full of things you’ve never imagined,” Princess replied. “Spare me from hearing about all of them.”

  Princess and Magar were led to a long patch of green grass where a dozen or so monks were hitting small white balls with their clubs. A sign nearby read: DRIVING RANGE OF HOLINESS. One plump monk wearing a dark-green robe hit one of the balls downrange, slicing it badly to the right. “Blackness take me!” he shouted, before noticing the two visitors. He smiled broadly. He had bright eyes behind a squat nose, and his white hair was cut into a tonsure so that the hairline produced a small ring around his head with a great bald spot in the middle.

  “Welcome, welcome!” the monk said, shaking hands with Princess and Magar. “I am Lanlarick the Pure,” he said warmly. “Not that you could tell by that last shot. I am the abbot here.”

  “Just what is all the ball hitting about?” Princess asked, never one to resist vocalizing what was on her mind. Lanlarick smiled, reaching into his pouch and producing a golf ball.

  “This,” the monk said, holding the ball up for Princess and Magar to examine, “is the expression of absolute truth in the universe. A sphere surrounded by 432 icosahedral dimples.”

  “And you whack it with a club?” Magar asked.

  “You drive it to the hole,” Lanlarick replied, pointing to the various monks who were hitting their golf balls downrange. “You see it’s all a metaphor: the ball represents individual truth, and the cup, the universe’s truth. It’s all about achieving hole in one-ness.”

  “I see,” Magar said, having no idea what the monk was talking about.

  “But you’re here to discuss something else, I think,” the abbot said, looking at Princess. “Travelers who seek a shorter path through our conjoined realms.”

  “We’re here so you can get us to the Techrus,” Princess answered. “Not to watch you play your little games.”

  Magar cleared his throat, smiling and stepping forward. “I’m sure you’re aware that we are on the Tower’s business, at the request of the regent himself.”

  Lanlarick nodded, dropping the golf ball into Magar’s hand. “Here, my son, I sense you have a restless soul. Perhaps someday you’ll join us—you wouldn’t be the first wizard to do so.” But before Magar could answer, Lanlarick put his arms around the two of them. “These are exciting times! We were told that you were coming.” The monk pointed to a scorch mark on the wall that looked suspiciously like a pigeon. “And not only from your Tower,” he continued, “but from the Maelshadow himself.”

  Princess slipped away from the monk’s congenial embrace, looking shocked. “The Maelshadow? You speak to the Maelshadow?”

  “Well, indirectly, if you must know. Through his attorney and so forth. But the important thing is we’re going to get to play eighteen holes in the Shadrus. This has never been allowed until now—the course is very exclusive. But come, let me show you something.”

  Princess and Magar gave each other a questioning look as they fell in behind the abbot. Magar slipped the golf ball into the satchel that hung around his shoulder—you never knew when a sphere with dimples might come in handy. Lanlarick took them down the perfectly manicured paths that led back to the Tree of Attenuation. He was met by several other monks, one of whom was holding a set of silver pruning shears.

  “You can hear it, I imagine?” Lanlarick asked. “That hum?”

  “Something to do with the tree,” Princess said, enjoying staying ahead of the conversation.

  “We like to say it’s singing to us. Perhaps a bit sentimental, but life here is about simple pleasures. You see, many believe when the Mad Sunderer created the Magrus it was an accident. But it was no mistake—the universe required three realms and so three realms came into being.”

  “Whether by accident or some design, we must find a way to travel to the Techrus without having to make the long journey through the Mesoshire,” Magar replied. “I have been told that such a thing may be possible.”

  “There are always two paths, my son, and they seem to lead to the same end. But one is hard and the other easy—or so they appear. We believe walking the harder path makes one worthy of the destination. That which comes too easy risks losing its value in the process.”

  “Except in our case,” Princess interjected. “We’re tired of walking and just want to get there already.”

  “Dragons and unicorns have both asked us to send them directly between the realms. We have refused, not because we are stubborn but because such powerful creatures are at a greater risk of losing themselves along the easy path. The Techrus was never meant for magic.”

  “And yet dragons have been known to go there,” Magar replied.

  “This is true,” the abbot agreed. “But they take the longest road of all, and become the better for it.”

  The thought of dragons doing something unicorns couldn’t irritated Princess.

  “Then why the change of heart now, if you don’t mind my asking?” Magar inquired, genuinely curious. “Is it really to go to the Shadrus to play your game?”

  The monk smiled. “Everything we do has a purpose, wizard. Lanlarick motioned for the monk with the pruning sheers to approach as they gathered around the base of the Tree of Attenuation. “If we prune a branch from the tree we may construct that which will allow you to travel to any of the realms—even the umbraverse, if you so choose.”

  Magar had known sorcerers who had attempted to travel to the umbraverse. When they had returned—if they returned—they had come back broken, mad, or both. “We do not wish to go there.”

  Lanlarick shrugged. “It’s up to you, of course. Once pruned, the branch will live for eighteen weeks,” he added, “until a new one grows strong enough to take its place. And by grafting it to your horn you can do that which many have only dreamed of—you will have magic enough to travel to and from the three realms with ease. Only a unicorn’s horn, combined with a living branch of the Tree of Attenuation could do such a thing. Not a sorcerer, a dragon, or the Maelshadow himself can do this. You must be quite honored.”

  “I’m quite hungry,” Princess answered, “if you really must know.”

  “This grafting that you speak of,” Magar interjected. “What happens to the Tree?”

  “The tree will stop singing,” the abbot said with a sigh, “and for a time the realms will be untethered. Strange things may find their way across boundaries not meant to be crossed. In truth, we don’t know what all the consequences will be. But sometimes a little chaos is just the thing the universe needs in order to evolve. And in the meantime, there�
�s always our game to be perfected.”

  Magar decided to be wary of this game—he could see it had the capacity to part men from their reason.

  “Your horn, if I may?” Lanlarick asked, stretching his hand out to Princess. No unicorn would ever willingly surrender its horn, and Magar wondered if Princess might decide that it was easier to just burn the place to the ground. But she finally handed it over, a testament to how badly she wanted her Texan buffet.

  Lanlarick nodded, holding the horn like a sacred relic. He motioned to the other monks standing at the ready, and they turned and proceeded to very gently clip a small white branch from the mystical tree. The moment they did, the humming stopped, and Princess felt a strange sensation pass through her body. The monks carefully handed the branch to Lanlarick, who slowly wrapped it around the unicorn horn until it tightened and took hold on its own accord. He paused to admire the magical horn entwined with the white branch for the briefest of moments, then gently handed it back to Princess.

  “I’m afraid the silence will be hard to bear,” Lanlarick said at last, looking up at the tree overhead. “I’ve had it as a companion for many years.”

  “Honestly, it was giving me a headache,” Princess replied with her typical lack of decorum. But holding her horn sent new sensations of magic coursing through her.

  Lanlarick picked up three silver leaves from the ground. “The Maelshadow has an additional request,” he said, leaning in to whisper something more in Princess’s ear. The abbot dropped the three silver leaves into her hand, stepping back and bowing his head.

  Princess didn’t like the idea of suddenly being ordered about by the Maelshadow, but she supposed there was no turning back. She took the leaves and secured them away. “I will do as he says,” she announced to the abbot, “if the opportunity presents itself.”

  “Excellent,” Lanlarick replied. “Then with the Gimbal, the branch, and your horn, you have the power to walk between worlds. Use it wisely, my dear. The choices you now make have the power to change the world.”

  Princess nodded, hardly hearing the monk. She could already feel her perceptions expanding, reaching out and touching the strange sensations of the Shadrus and Techrus. It was like stepping into pools of water. Where she was now was warm and comfortable. In one direction lay waters that were tepid, and in the other waters as cold as ice.

  “Two warnings, Princess,” the monk continued, his tone serious. “In eighteen weeks the branch will lose its power. If you’re not home by then, you may never find your way back. Also, you must not eat sentient creatures while in the Techrus. If you do, you will lose your connection to the branch. Do you understand?”

  “Wait,” Princess exclaimed, “I can’t eat humans?”

  “Rezormoor said as much, Your Highness,” Magar said, trying to calm the unicorn down. “If you remember, he said we must find the Codex and the living descendent first. Then he will send you to Texas.”

  “But that’s hardly fair,” Princess complained. “Maybe I’ll just have a little snack. What could that hurt?”

  “Lose your connection to the branch and you will lose your way home,” Lanlarick added as final warning. “There is nothing more to be said—the choice is up to you.”

  Princess produced the Gimbal and held it up next to her horn. As the magical device began to spin, Princess focused on the horn. She began to feel herself shifting away from the monks and the now silent tree. She found Magar with her mind and pulled him in with her, leaving the warm waters of the Magrus and stepping into the tepid pool that was the Techrus. She could see the Gimbal’s arrow pointing the way, and she moved in the direction it indicated. When her foot touched the ground, the soft rich soil that had surrounded the Tree of Attenuation was replaced by something hard. The world blurred and changed.

  Princess snapped the Gimbal shut as a strange metal carriage suddenly appeared. It rumbled past, the air thick with new sounds and smells. She was standing next to a street, surrounded by strange buildings made of metal, brick, and glass. A large sign read WELCOME TO MADISON. Princess had never seen or even imagined such a place.

  A few feet away a young human male dressed in odd clothes was pointing at Princess and Magar. “Nice costumes,” Ricky “the Kraken” Reynolds called out in a mocking voice. “Halloween’s, like, next month, dorks.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  A HELPING FOOT

  (THE TECHRUS—FUTURE)

  MAX COULD CAST FIREBALLS. HE WASN’T PERFECT AT IT, AND SOMETIMES he lost control of them. But if he found the right page in the Codex he could summon the spell like drawing water with a ladle, and generally toss it in the right direction. He studied late into the evenings and practiced most days. He hardly touched his food (which was probably a first), and he began to look flushed with dark circles under his eyes. When Sarah noticed, she ordered him to rest. Max was ready to agree and then go out and practice anyway, but Sarah’s expression said that she meant business—and Sarah had a look that could melt an iceberg. Besides, Max later discovered she had another plan.

  Sarah had been working on a strategy for taking on the machines. She had even reached out to the snow faeries who agreed to put all hostilities aside and join the fight. And now a group of them had arrived at the treeshire, tethered to a sleek-looking air sled. The ancient sled had been originally designed to carry humans around in the Magrus, and it moved quickly. Sarah figured that she could travel all the way to the old ruins of Madison and back in less than a day. Knowing that had given her an idea.

  On the morning the air sled arrived, Sarah ordered Max to get in. Over howls of protest from Dirk (who really wanted to ride in the flying sled), Max obeyed, and the two of them took off. Max must have dozed off, because in no time they had pulled up next to the old cement factory where he had chased the spider on their first night.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” Sarah asked as Max rubbed his eyes. He peered over the edge of the sled and looked for the strange spiders. He couldn’t see any, but in the daylight he probably couldn’t see any of their orange glowing eyes anyway. There could be hundreds in the nearby woods for all he knew. He hoped they remembered that they weren’t supposed to eat him.

  “Yeah,” Max confirmed, climbing down from the sled. The snow faeries were taking a break along the rails, which were lined with special slots where they fastened themselves in. The lead faerie saluted smartly as Max peered down at him. “Take your time, boss,” he said in his high-pitched voice. “We’ll be rested and ready to go when you are.”

  Sarah climbed out of the air sled and stretched her legs. “I guess I kind of got used to walking everywhere—I’m stiff from just sitting for so long.”

  “Yeah,” Max said, trying to sound as if he understood. The truth was he’d become quite good at sitting and his body happily accepted the long ride. He pointed to the opening at the base of the factory wall. “This way. We’ll have to crawl through.”

  Sarah turned to the snow faeries and asked for two volunteers. A couple of them jumped up and flew over to her. “They can light the way for us,” she said, reading Max’s confused expression. “You said it was dark, right?”

  “Yeah, very dark. I guess you’ve thought this all through.”

  “Yep,” Sarah said. “Let’s go.”

  The hallway was still fairly long, but with company and light it felt much shorter than the last time Max had been there. It wasn’t long before he and Sarah found themselves at the large metal door. Max motioned to the small swing door at the bottom.

  “Spidey-door,” he said, pointing at it. “And there’re no puppies in there, in case you were wondering.”

  Sarah tried not to shudder. She was pretty brave when it came to most things, but spiders kind of creeped her out. And giant frisbee-sized spiders even more so.

  When they opened the door and walked in, Sarah lost any doubts about Max’s story. The room was just as he’d described, with rows of electrical ducts, wiring, giant monitors hanging on the walls, and the anc
ient-looking arcade game smack dab in the middle of everything.

  “Hello again,” Cenede said, scattering the spiders. Max figured she probably didn’t get to talk to many things out loud like that. The large centipede-like appendages stayed still, however, which was just fine with Max.

  “Hi, Cenede. I hope it’s okay if we came back?”

  “I was delighted when I saw you approaching.”

  “Oh, cool. And hey, this is my friend Sarah.”

  “Welcome,” Cenede said by way of greeting. “I am pleased to meet you, as well. It’s been some time since I’ve been around two humans.”

  “Wow,” Sarah said, looking around, “this is really amazing. You’re an artificial intelligence of some sort.”

  “I don’t feel artificial.”

  “Oh,” Sarah said, looking at Max with a horrified expression on her face. “That had to have sounded so rude. I’m terribly sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Sarah. I’m not offended. Human hands first constructed me, after all.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay,” Max said, trying to sound helpful. “I say totally stupid things too.” Sarah’s expression told Max that he had just proved his point.

  “As long as we’re on the subject, I must apologize that I failed to keep your presence here a secret,” Cenede continued. “My job is to ensure the sector is uploading holo-images, not to block them. I missed several fail-safe’s, and Robo-Princess learned you were here.”

  “I don’t think it would have mattered,” Max replied. “She smelled me in the woods. I heard her talking about it.”

  “I see,” Cenede continued. “Well, you’ve certainly caused an uproar in Machine City. They’re promoting this final hunt like nothing I’ve seen before. I’m afraid this will be very difficult for you to survive.”