Terry Brooks - The Black Unicorn

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B-——————————————-————"—-———-—B

Prologue

B-———————————.——————.——-—B

The black unicorn stepped from the morning mists, almost

as if born of them, and stared out over the kingdom of

Landover.

Daybreak hovered at the crest of the eastern horizon,

an intruder that peeked from its place of concealment to

catch a glimpse of night's swift departure. The silence

seemed to deepen further with the appearance of the uni-

corn—as if that one small event in that one tiny comer

was sensed somehow throughout the whole of the valley.

Everywhere sleep gave way to waking, dreams to being,

and that moment of transition was as close as time ever

came to being frozen.

The unicorn stood near the summit of the valley's

northern rim, high in the mountains of the Melchor, close

to the edge of the world of fairy. Landover spread away

before it, forested slopes, and bare rock crags dropping

toward foothills and grasslands, rivers and lakes, forests

and scrub. Color glimmered in hazy patches through the

fading dark where streaks of sunlight danced off morning

dew. Castles, towns, and cottages were vague, irregular

shapes against the symmetry, creatures that hunkered

down in rest and breathed smoke from dying embers.

There were tears in the eyes of green fire that swept

2 THE BLACK UNICORN

the valley end to end and glittered with newfound life. It

had been so long!

A stream trickled down and collected in a basin of rocks

a dozen yards from where the unicorn stood. A tiny gath-

ering of forest creatures crouched at the edge of that pool

and stared in awe at the wonder that had materialized

before them—a rabbit, a badger, several squirrels and

voles, an opossum and young, a solitary toad. A cave

wight melted back into the shadows. A bog wump flat-

tened back into its hole. Birds sat motionless upon the

branches of the trees. All were stilled. The only sound

was the ripple of the stream over mountain rock.

The black unicorn nodded its head in recognition of the

homage being paid. Ebony body gleamed in the half light,

mane and fetlocks shimmering like silk thrown in the

wind. Goat's feet shifted and lion's tail swished, restless

movements against the backdrop of the still-life world.

The ridged horn knifed the darkness, shining faintly with

magic. There had never before been a thing of such grace

and beauty in all of creation as the unicorn and never

would be again.

Dawn broke sharply over the valley of Landover, and

the new day was begun. The black unicorn felt the sun's

heat on its face and lifted its head in greeting. But invisible

chains still bound it, and the cold of their lingering pres-

ence dispelled almost instantly the momentary warmth.

The unicorn shivered. It was immortal and could never

be killed by mortal things. But its life could be stolen away

all the same. Time was the ally of the enemy who had

Side 1

Terry Brooks - The Black Unicorn

imprisoned it. And time had begun to move forward again.

The black unicorn slipped like quicksilver through

shadows and light in search of its freedom.

•&

Dreaips...

•a

"I had a dream last night," Ben Holiday announced to

his friends at breakfast that morning.

He might as well have been giving a weather report.

The wizard Questor Thews did not appear to hear him,

his lean, owlish face furrowed in thought, his gaze di-

rected some twenty feet above the breakfast table at an

invisible point in space. The kobolds Bunion and Parsnip

barely looked up from eating. The scribe Abemathy man-

aged a look of polite curiosity, but for a shaggy-faced dog

whose normal look was one of polite curiosity, that was

not particularly difficult.

Only the sylph Willow, just come into the dining hall

of castle Sterling Silver and seated next to him, showed

any real interest—a sudden change of expression that was

oddly disquieting.

"I dreamed about home," he continued, determined to

pursue the matter. "I dreamed about the old world."

"Excuse me?" Questor was looking at him now,

apparently returned from whatever planet he had been

visiting. "Excuse me, but did I hear you say something

about. . . ?"

"Exactly what did you dream about the old world, High

Lord?" Abemathy interrupted impatiently, polite curi-

4 THE BLACK UNICORN

osity become faint disapproval. He looked at Ben mean-

ingfully over the rims of his eyeglasses. He always looked

at him like that when Ben mentioned anything about the

old world.

Ben forged ahead. "I dreamed about Miles Bennett.

You remember my telling you about Miles, don't you—

my old law partner? Well, I dreamed about him. I dreamed

that he was in trouble. It wasn't a complete dream; there

wasn't a true beginning or end. It was as if I came in

halfway through the story. Miles was in his office, work-

ing, sorting through these papers. There were phone calls

coming in, messages being delivered, people in the shad-

ows where I couldn't see them clearly. But I could see

that Miles was practically frantic. He looked terrible. He

kept asking for me. He kept wondering where I was, why

I wasn't there. I called out to him, but he didn't hear me.

Then there was a distortion of some sort, a darkness, a

twisting of what I was seeing. Miles kept calling, asking

for me. Then something came between us, and I woke

up."

Side 2

Terry Brooks - The Black Unicorn

He glanced briefly at the faces about him. They all were

listening now. "But that doesn't really tell you every-

thing," he added quickly. "There was a sense of... some

impending disaster lurking behind the whole series of im-

ages. There was an intensity that was frightening. It was

so ... real."

"Some dreams are like that, High Lord," Abemathy

observed, shrugging. He pushed the eyeglasses back on

his nose and folded his forelegs primly across his vested

chest. He was a fastidious dog. "Dreams are frequently

manifestations of our subconscious fears, I've read."

"Not this dream," Ben insisted. "This was more than

your average, garden-variety dream. This was like a

premonition."

Abemathy sniffed. "And I suppose the next thing you

are going to tell me is that on the strength of this emo-

tionally distressing, but rationally unfounded, dream you

Terry Brooks 5

feel compelled to return to your old world?" The scribe

was making no effort to conceal his distress now, his

worst fears about to be realized.

Ben hesitated. It had been more than a year since he

had passed into the mists of the fairy world somewhere

deep in the forests of the Blue Ridge Mountains twenty

miles southwest ofWaynesboro, Virginia, and entered the

kingdom of Landover. He had paid a million dollars for

the privilege, answering an advertisement in a department

store catalogue, acting more out of desperation than out

of reason. He had come into Landover as King, but his

acceptance as such by the land's inhabitants had not come

easily. Attacks on his claim to the throne had come from

every quarter. Creatures whose very existence he had

once believed impossible had nearly destroyed him.

Magic, the power that governed everything in this

strangely compelling world, was the two-edged sword he

had been forced to master in order to survive. Reality had

been redefined for him since he had made his decision to

enter the mists, and the life he had known as a trial lawyer

in Chicago, Illinois, seemed far removed from his present

existence. Still, that old life was not completely forgotten,

and he thought now and then of going back.

His eyes met those of his scribe. He didn't know what

answer to give. "I admit that I am worried about Miles,"

he said finally.

The dining hall was very quiet. The kobolds had

stopped eating, their monkey faces frozen in those fright-

ening half grins that showed all their considerable teeth.

Abemathy was rigid in his seat. Willow had gone pale,

and it appeared that she was about to speak.

But it was Questor Thews who spoke first.' 'A moment,

High Lord," he advised thoughtfully, one bony finger

placed to his lips.

He rose from the table, dismissed from the room the

serving boys who stood surreptitiously on either side, and

closed the doors tightly behind them. The six friends were

6 THE BLACK UNICORN

Side 3

Terry Brooks - The Black Unicorn

alone in the cavernous dining hall. That apparently wasn't

enough for Questor. The great arched entry at the far end

of the room opened through a foyer to the remainder of

the castle. Questor walked silently to its mouth and

peered about.

Ben watched curiously, wondering why Questor was

being so cautious. Admittedly, it wasn't like the old days

when there were only the six of them living at Sterling

Silver. Now there were retainers of all ages and ranks,

soldiers and guardsmen, emissaries and envoys, messen-

gers and assorted others that comprised his court, all

stumbling over one another and into his private life when

it was least convenient. But it wasn't as if the subject of

his going back to the old world hadn't been discussed

openly before—and by practically everyone. It wasn't as

if the people of Landover didn't know by this time that

he wasn't a native Landoverian.

He smiled ruefully. Ah, well—there was no harm in

being cautious.

He stretched, loosening muscles still tightened from

sleep. He was a man of ordinary appearance, his height

and build medium, his weight evenly distributed. His

movements were quick and precise; he had been a boxer

in his youth and still retained much of his old skill. His

face was brown from sun and wind with high cheekbones

and forehead, a hawk nose, and a hairline that receded

slightly at the comers. Age lines were beginning to show

at the comers of his eyes, but the eyes themselves were

brilliant blue and icy.

His gaze shifted ceilingward. Morning sunlight

streamed through high glass windows and danced off pol-

ished wood and stone. The warmth of the castle seeped

through him, and he could feel her stir restlessly. She was

always listening. He knew that she had heard him speak

of the dream and was responding with a measure of dis-

content. She was the mother who worried for her brash,

incautious child. She was the mother who sought always

Terry Brooks 7

to keep that child safe beside her. She didn't like it when

he talked of leaving.

He glanced covertly at his friends: Questor Thews, the

wizard whose magic frequently misfired, a ragtag scare-

crow of patchwork robes and tangled gestures; Aber-

nathy, the court scribe become a soft-coated Wheaten

Terrier through Questor's magic and left that way when

the magic couldn't be found to change him back again, a

dog in gentleman's clothing; Willow, the beautiful sylph

who was half woman, half tree, a creature of the fairy

world with magic of her own; and Bunion and Parsnip,

the kobolds who looked like big-eared monkeys in knick-

ers, a messenger and a cook. He had found them all so

strange in the beginning. A year later, he found them com-

fortable and reassuring and felt protected in then-

presence.

He shook his head. He lived in a world of dragons and

witches, of gnomes, trolls, and other strange creatures,

of living castles and fairy magic. He lived in a fantasy

kingdom in which he was King. He was what he had once

only dreamed of being. The old world was long past, the

old life gone. Odd, then, that he still thought of that world

Side 4

Terry Brooks - The Black Unicorn

and life so frequently, of Miles Bennett and Chicago, of

the law practice, of the responsibilities and obligations he

had left behind. Threads from the tapestry of last night's

dream entwined within his memory and tugged relent-

lessly at him. He could not forget easily, it seemed, what

had comprised so many years of his life ...

Questor Thews cleared his throat.

"I had a dream last night as well, High Lord," the

wizard declared, returned from his reconnaissance. Ben's

eyes snapped up. The tall, robed figure hunched down

over his high-backed chair, green eyes clear and distant.

The bony fingers of one hand scratched the bearded chin,

and the voice was a wary hiss. "My dream was of the

missing books of magic!"

Ben understood the other's caution now. Few within

8 THE BLACK UNICORN

Landover knew of the books of magic. The books had

belonged to Questor's half-brother, the former court wiz-

ard of Landover, a fellow Ben had known in the old world

as Meeks. It was Meeks, in league with a disgruntled heir

to the throne, who had sold Ben the kingship of Landover

for one million dollars—certain that Ben would fall victim

to one of any number of traps set to destroy him, certain

that when Ben was finally dispatched the kingship would

become his to sell again. Meeks had thought to make

Questor his ally, the promise of knowledge from the hid-

den books of magic the carrot used to entice his half-

brother to his cause. But Questor and Ben had become

allies instead, eluding all the traps that Meeks had set and

severing the old wizard's ties with Landover for good.

Ben's eyes fixed Questor's. Yes, Meeks was gone—

but the books of magic still remained concealed some-

where within the valley . . .

"Did you hear what I said. High Lord?" Questor's eyes

sparkled with excitement. "The missing books—magic

gleaned by wizards of Landover since the dawn of her

creation! I think I know where they are! I saw where they

were in my dream!" The eyes danced. The voice dropped

to a whisper. "They are hidden in the catacombs of the

ruined fortress of Mirwouk, high in the Melchor! In my

dream, I followed after a torch that no hand carried, fol-

lowed it through the dark, through tunnels and stairways

to a door marked with scroll and runes. The door opened;

there were blocks of stone flooring and one marked with

a special sign. It gave at my touch and the books were

there! I remember it all... as if it really happened!"

Now it was Ben's turn to look dubious. He started to

say something in reply and stopped, not knowing what to

say. He felt Willow stir uneasily beside him.

"I did not know whether to speak of my dream or not,

to be honest with you," the wizard confided, his words

coming in a rush. "I thought maybe I should wait until

I was able to discover if the dream was false or true be-

Terry Brooks 9

fore I said anything. But then you spoke of your dream,

and I ..." He hesitated. "Mine was like yours, High

Side 5

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摘要：

Terry Brooks - The Black UnicornB-——————————————-————"—-———-—BPrologueB-———————————.——————.——-—BThe black unicorn stepped from the morning mists, almostas if born of them, and stared out over the kingdom ofLandover.Daybreak hovered at the crest of the eastern horizon,an intruder that peeked from its...

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Terry Brooks - The Black Unicorn

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