A Tale From the Unicorn Chronicles

Now up at both Amazon and Smashwords, this is the strange story of Nils, whose father was a Hunter, but who follows his own strange path to try to make peace with what his father has done. It features a brief guest appearance from Ivy Morris, the Wanderer.

The Boy With Silver Eyes - Kindle Edition

The Boy With Silver Eyes - Smashwords

        Graumag approached Firethroat’s cave cautiously. Other than a dragonmoot once every five years, the dragons of Luster did not usually visit each other. Territory was territory, after all, and not to be transgressed upon lightly. She was glad it was Firethroat Amalia had asked her to call upon; that venerable dragon was the closest thing Graumag had to a friend among Luster’s great beasts. Though she never, these days, thought of herself as anything other than dragon, Graumag took some pleasure in this semi-friendship. There remained a human element of her heart that longed for companionship in the way dragon hearts did not.

        Once she reached Firethroat’s mountain she flew back and forth in front of the cave, waiting to be invited in, though in truth she could not be sure that the lady was even at home. But at last a voice boomed out, “What is it, Graumag? Why do you come uninvited to my lair?”

       “Uninvited, but not unsent,” replied Graumag. “The unicorn Queen has asked me to speak to you.”

       “Then I guess I must hear what it is she has to say. You may approach.”

       This was not actually an invitation to enter, but it was a first step. Graumag threw back her head and blew out a gust of flame, as was proper. Then she dropped to the ledge that fronted the cave. She perched there, her great tail dangling down, until Firethroat said, “How is it with you, Flame Sister?”

       “I am affrighted by what is happening to the land. And you, Flame Sister?”

       Firethroat scowled. “I, too, am gravely concerned.” She paused, then said, “You may enter.”

     “Do you have a knife?” asked M’Gama.

      Rocky looked at her, puzzled. “What for?”

      “Never mind what for! Do you have one? If not, help me find a sharp stone.”

      Without another word, she began searching for such a stone herself. The dim orange glow of the lines that ran along the corridor was sufficient for her eyes, which were long accustomed to low light. As she searched, she realized something she had previously noticed, but that hadn’t completely registered because she had been focused on so many other things: the delver tunnels were beautifully crafted. She would have found no sharp edges, or even any loose stones, if the tremors had not done so much damage. As it was, she crossed to a pile of rubble where part of the ceiling had collapsed and quickly located a shard about a foot long. Running a finger over it, she murmured, “Perfect.”

      Returning to the outcropping over which she had found Rocky weeping, the Geomancer knelt in front of it. She held out her left arm and drew the sharp edge of the shard across the soft flesh. Blood welled out, scarlet against her ebony skin. She turned her arm so the blood would drip onto the stone outcropping, then closed her hand into a fist and clenched it. She repeated the action, the blood flow increasing each time she did. When she was satisfied she had enough, she relaxed her fingers. Then she used her right hand to pinch the divided flesh together, chanting in a low voice until the wound had sealed itself shut. It was not healed, and would not be for some time, but the bleeding had ceased.

      She took a deep breath, then placed her hands upon the bloodied stone. Turning to Rocky, she said, “What is his name?” When the delver hesitated, she snapped, “If you want me to bring him back, I need his name! You must know that much.”

        Medafil had been flying in the direction Cara pointed him for about an hour when he saw a something moving through the air in his direction. “Prat-spakkle it,” he muttered to himself. “Can’t be alone even in the sky!”

        Preparing himself to take evasive action if necessary, the gryphon continued on his way.

        It wasn’t much longer before his sharp eyes identified the approaching figure as that of a dragon. Within another few minutes he saw that it was, as he had hoped, Graumag. “And thank the poot-doodled powers it’s not Ebillan,” he murmured.

        The two beasts continued toward each other. When they were within hailing distance Graumag called, “Greetings, Air Brother!”

        “Greetings, Sky Sister!” replied Medafil. “It is good to see you again.” He actually meant this, mostly.

        “And good to see you. However the truth is I would be even happier to see young Cara. I was separated from her, and have not been able to find her.”

Here's a bit of Cara and Medafil traveling . . .

Shortly before noon of the second day of their journey Cara and Medafil came to an extended wetland.

“The Tamoran Marsh,” said Medafil. He turned his head to speak over his shoulder rather than shouting to her as he usually did while flying. “If we weren’t in such a hurry I’d go around it instead of going over.”

“Why?” called Cara.

“Bog-dappled place is filled with strange creatures. You never know what’s going to come slithering out of that murky water.”

With that he pumped his wings, shooting forward over the dismal landscape. It took them nearly an hour to cross the swamp. Once clear of it they flew on for another several minutes before Medafil called, “I’m going down to that clearing for a rest.”

           But as the gryphon glided toward the opening in the trees, Cara spotted something that filled her heart with fear. Leaning forward, she cried, “Not here, Medafil! Fly up, fly up!”

            Without questioning her, the gryphon changed course. Beating his wings madly, he soared into the sky. When they were far enough from the clearing he turned his head and, panting from the exertion, demanded to know what was going on.

Squelching the thought, she stepped forward. As she did, she was startled to hear a small voice chitter, “Hotcha stinky firenose dragon!”

She had been so focused on Graumag she had forgotten the Squijum was clinging to her neck. Reverting once more to dragonspeak, and hoping Graumag hadn’t actually heard the Squijum, she said, “Do you mind if my smaller friend accompanies me?”

Graumag nodded. “That is acceptable. Now hold still so I can pick you up.”

Bracing herself, Cara heard a flapping sound, then felt a rush of wind. As another burst of lightning erupted overhead, the girl saw Graumag spread her batlike wings and launch herself into the air. As the thunder, which had followed uncomfortably close to the lightning, began to diminish Cara felt another rush of air from the darkness. With no more warning than that, Graumag grabbed her by the waist and soared into the obsidian sky.

“Yike!” cried the Squijum, tightening his grip on Cara’s neck.

They surged upward, gaining speed. The lightning that strobed around them made Cara flinch with each blinding flash. She knew the jolting shards of electricity were close, for thunder followed every flash almost instantly, the mighty sound waves pounding against her.

       Princess Arianna stood halfway up a low mountain. Ahead of her was a little-used path that would take her to the top of the southwestern rim of the Valley of the Centaurs. She placed a tentative hoof on the path, but then turned to look back. In the dim, pearly light that precedes sunrise the valley below was painted in of shades of gray. She gazed at it lovingly, trying to make herself believe she was studying the land, and not looking for Arkon. As her eye traced the outline of the familiar hills something twisted in her heart. She had been happy here, and did not relish leaving.

        The air was still; no breath of wind stirred the thick, chestnut hair that flowed nearly to the place where her human form merged with the horse portion of her body. That stillness seemed right. In this hour before dawn all the world should have been quiet and unmoving. Alas, it was not; though there was no wind, the very ground beneath her hooves was troubled. The occasional tremors that shivered through the stone made Arianna shiver as well.

          What was happening to Luster?

          She turned to look at the path ahead. She would have to start, and soon, if she wanted to pass over the valley’s rim before the sun rose. Oh, where was Arkon? Was it possible he wouldn’t come?

      Grimwold was in his second day of writing, and deeply absorbed in recording the tale the Chiron had told about the birth of the Whisperer when a bell rang, informing him that the Queen wished to speak with him.    

      “Drat it,” he muttered. “Can’t a fellow ever be just left alone to do his work?”

       But a summons from the Queen was not something to be ignored, especially since, as Chronicle Keeper, he was a pledged servant, and also received a nice living. So he left his work and made his way to the place in his complex of caves where the scrying pool was always ready to reveal the Queen’s messages.

       Unlike many of the caves in his home, this one had been left in its natural form. Three small cauldrons, each suspended from a tripod, lit the cave with a soft orange glow. Centered between the tripods was a stone basin. Usually the water it held was dark and cold looking, but now, with a message coming in, it, too, emitted a soft glow.

       After the surprises and shocks of his recent journey, Grimwold did not think he could be startled by whatever this message might be. Yet when he went to the edge of the basin and saw that the image in the water was not a messenger, but Amalia Flickerfoot herself, he braced himself.

     Belle wandered aimlessly for much of the day after the Whisperer first spoke to her, terrified that the voice would return even as she feared that it would not.

     She had known fear before — she considered it a natural part of the life she led. However what she felt now was something different, a fear not for her body, but for her deeper self, which she had thought was secret, but had clearly been seen by this strange, invisible being. Worse, what he found in her was something she had been trying to deny, even to herself. But it was true — she did feel she was better suited to lead the unicorns than Amalia Flickerfoot, who had been absent for many tens of years, and had returned to unicorn form only weeks ago.

     Feng Yuan sat silently beneath the strange tree, enjoying its odd fragrance. She was not astonished to be in another world; astonishment had left her life the day Wu Chen had rescued her from the hillside where her father had abandoned her because the family could no longer feed a useless girl. She was five at the time, and had expected to die in a few days. Given the pain that twisted both her heart and her stomach, death would have been a welcome relief. But then Wu Chen appeared, seemingly from nowhere, to ask if she would like to go live with a woman named Beloved, who would feed, clothe, and educate her.

     In return, all she had to do was help the sons of Beloved lure unicorns to their doom.

     Better doom for a unicorn than for me, she had thought, with the cold practicality that comes from fear and hunger.

It was growing late when Medafil, Cara, and the Squijum reached the line of clouds that marked the edge of Graumag’s territory. No sooner had they crossed under that line than a jagged streak of lightning split the sky off to her left. Moments later its thunder rumbled past them, so powerfully Cara felt as if she had been struck.

“Maybe we had better walk from here on,” she called to Medafil.

“Ding-flibble it! We don’t have time for that!” bellowed the gryphon.

“We won’t have any time at all if we get fried by lightning!”

Before Medafil could reply another bolt of lightning sizzled down, terrifyingly close and filling their nostrils with the metallic smell of ozone. “Gaaaah! All right, we’ll grum-dingled walk!”

     Passing through the space, Fallon realized that neither it nor the bedchambers above showed any signs of having been modernized. It was not just the lack of plumbing in the tower; he saw no electric lights, nor any sockets in the walls. He moved quickly to the great doors at the front of the room. The one on his left stood slightly ajar and he pushed it with his foot. It opened onto a large courtyard where two things immediately caught — and warred for — his attention.

       The first, and by far the more spectacular, was an oval opening, a good ten feet high, that seemed to have been carved out of the rough wood of the castle gate. Gazing into it, Fallon saw a thin, swirling mist. Beyond the mist a tunnel led to a forest of silver-trunked, blue-leaved trees. He felt a lurch in his chest as intuition and something deeper — some heart-connection for which there was no name — informed him that the one he had sought for so long was on the other side of that opening.

      He ached to plunge through it.

      But the boy . . .

The others looked to Rocky, as they had so often when they were young. It was Rocky — Nedzik then, of course — who always had the best ideas for games and pranks, the best ways to annoy the adults, and could find the most satisfying mischief.

Rocky looked at them for a moment, then said, "My name is gone, taken by the king. Yet in my heart I know that I am still myself, and he had no right to do this. I say, do not surrender your names, my cousins. I say take new ones to spite the tyrant!"

"But you said the name must be given to you," protested Razka.

"Then I give you the name Diamond," replied Rocky instantly. "For you are hard and sharp, and you have secret fire in your depths."

"Diamond," murmured his cousin. "Diamond. I like that!"

"What shall I be?" cried Erkza, the elder of the twins.

“Medafil!” hissed Cara. “Medafil, wake up! We’ve got company.”

Cara felt gryphon stir behind her, then heard him mutter, “What the rat-gaddled, burk-spiffled midnight nonsense —”

He broke off as another flash of lightning revealed the enormous form of a dragon crouching about twenty feet away.

The darkness returned. It didn’t matter. The image had seared itself into Cara’s brain.

When the thunder had faded to silence the dragon said, “What are you doing on my mountain?”

Cara blinked and sat up. The unicorns — and Alma Leonetti, the only other human present — were all looking in her direction.

“I am sorry to wake you, granddaughter,” said the Queen. “But we need you to join this discussion.”

Cara scrambled to her feet, embarrassed to have fallen asleep when so much was at stake. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “Sorry!”

“No need to apologize,” said gentle Cloudmane. “Your sleep is well-earned. It is we who are sorry to wake you. However the conversation now concerns you.”

“Do you have something for me to do?” asked Cara. “Just tell me. I’ll do anything you ask!”

Her grandmother shook her head, causing her mane to ripple like silk spun from moonlight. "The regrets are all mine, dearest. You have already done far more than was fair of me to ask. And now you and Medafil have accepted yet another task. This means a great deal to me, though my own wish is that I could shield you from all this."

         "You shielded me all my life, Gramma!" cried Cara. Then, unable to resist, and a bit more sharply than she had intended, she added, "Longer than you should have, with some things."

          Amalia Flickerfoot sighed, knowing what she was referring to. "I learned my lessons as a human all too well, granddaughter. Stealth, slyness, deceit — they are not the unicorn way. And yet — "

         Cara gasped. "And yet they may be just what we need!"

Arkon the centaur stood just outside his cave, honing the edge of his sword. The metal of his blade glistened in the light of the bracket-mounted torches — as did the sweat that coated his muscular arms and chest. He was calm, despite what lay ahead. He was confident, too. Though there had not been a combat to determine a new Chiron in the hundreds of years since the centaurs had come to Luster, Arkon had been studying the rules — and the necessary fighting skills — from the time he could leave his mother’s side. With his friend Basilikos he had sparred and jousted and tussled through all the years of his youth, readying himself for this time.

He was grateful that the old Chiron hadn’t died too soon; otherwise he, Arkon, could not have been part of this great event.

Instantly he felt a flash of guilt for this thought. The old Chiron had been wise and good. Unfortunately, he had also been tired. That was natural enough, given his oddly extended life, but it had meant that the centaurs, as a people, had been stagnant ever since they came to Luster. Now that the girl, Cara, had provided the old Chiron with the death he so deeply desired, it was time for a new leader, with new ideas, and fresh energy.

And, perhaps, thought Arkon, sliding the whetstone along his blade again, time for us to move beyond the restrictions of this valley and take a larger place in Luster . . . no matter what the unicorns say.

Belle had been pondering all this as she made her way back toward Autumngrove. Then, on the night of her third day of travel the Chiron’s story was confirmed in the most horrifying way possible.

A voice began to speak to her.

“Yes?”

“Well, Luster is the world of the unicorns. But I know there are seven dragons here, and a whole population of centaurs. And you told me yourself there are merfolk off the coasts.”

“Unfortunate, but true. Fribble-brained water people are a bit too given to jokes for my taste. Anyway, what’s your question?”

“Well, there are lots of all those other creatures. So, what about gryphons? Are you the only one?”

“Gaaah! I’d rather not talk about that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended, nud-splorkle it. I just don’t like to talk about it. But if you must know, there’s a fairly large flock of us in the Grand Aerie. It’s in the mountains northwest of Autumngrove.”

“Ah. But you don’t stay with them?”

“Those savages? Can’t stand the mub-fuzzled ignoramuses."

After leaving the Valley of the Centaurs, the delver who Cara had nicknamed Rocky spent the better part of two nights wandering in a vaguely homeward direction. He traveled aboveground, partly because the tunnels of Delvharken would be dangerous for him. He was, after all, still supposed to be locked in the king’s dungeon, and he was fairly certain his fellow delvers all knew it.

The other reason to stay aboveground was that he was deeply confused by what he had learned about the origins of his people, and could not decide what, if anything, he should do with the information.

Normally he would have taken the story to King Gnurflax. But since it was Gnurflax himself who had stripped Rocky of his true name and then sent him to the dungeon, that didn’t seem like a good idea right now.

He thought several times about trying to contact his teacher but feared that even the attempt would endanger the old delver, whom he loved and honored above all others. Not that danger wasn’t all around now anyway. But his teacher would be in no position to help when things got worse — as they were sure to — if the king had already disposed of him.

Finally Rocky decided to act as any proper delver would, and seek out a cave where he could think in peace.

The delvers carried M'Gama into a room-sized cave lit — barely — by the same orange stripes that ran along the passageways. Without comment, they chained her to one of the walls. In an odd way the imprisonment was almost kind, for they secured only one ankle and one wrist, both with chains of sufficient length for her to sit on the stone outcropping to her right, even to lie down if she wished. Not only that, there was a small pool, fed by a trickle of water, in a declivity to her left. So, she would not want for something to drink. She suspected they might even provide food, though she also suspected it would take two or three days of hunger to make whatever they gave her seem edible.

It was the Queen who answered. “We make the request of you for two reasons, granddaughter. The first is speed. None of the dragons are close at hand, and it would take days for any of us to reach them. However Medafil has offered — with much fussing — to fly you to the dragon’s lair. Which means the journey will only take a couple of days.”

“And the second reason?”

“That should be obvious,” said Moonheart, never one to phrase things gently. “You have the gift of tongues, and can speak to the dragons in their own language. They respect this, and will be more likely to respond as a result.”

“So which dragon would you like me to visit?” asked Cara.

Cara Diana Hunter edged closer to her grandmother, Amalia Flickerfoot, Queen of the unicorns. Neither girl nor Queen were able to keep their eyes from the sky, where the scarlet circle of the Blood Moon was rising higher and higher.

"Continuing a series practice, this finale substantially tops the previous volume's page count as Coville draws all his characters and plot lines together in a mighty cascade of short chapters to a climactic battle on the alternate world of Luster. Even readers new to the epic will have no trouble following along . . . Audiences fond of tales festooned with words like "ensorcelled," lines like "Halt! Who seeks to enter the Great Hall of Gnurflax, King of Delvharken?" and names like "Amalia Flickerfoot"—plus magical figures from a comically monkey-like pet and a gryphon with a tender ego to angels (thinly disguised as "Great Powers"), centaurs and, of course, shining, magnificent unicorns aplenty—will be swept along to the grand, hard-fought resolution."

The secrets of Luster are finally unveiled!

IN THE CENTER OF LUSTER STANDS AN ENORMOUS TREE CALLED THE AXIS MUNDI, THE HEART OF THE WORLD.                                        

     But now that tree is wounded, pierced by magic. Through that wound marches an army of Hunters, led by the sinister and vengeful Beloved. And they are all determined to destroy each and every unicorn.

      As the unicorns gather to defend their lives, the human girl, Cara, is sent on a mission to meet a ferocious and mysterious dragon. Faced with perilous danger, Cara must make a desperate decision that will change her life forever.

       With a deft hand and keen imagination, master storyteller Bruce Coville brings this riveting epic fantasy series to a rousing conclusion as the secrets of Luster are finally and satisfyingly revealed.

It's available!

Though the official pub date for DARK WHISPERS is August 1, it appears that Amazon.com is now shipping the book. And a friend of mine found it on the shelves at his local Barnes & Noble last night.

Chapter 4
Gnurflax

          The musicians of Delvharken were trying their hardest. The drummers had worked themselves into a frenzy pounding on the carefully hollowed stones arranged in half-circles around them. The delver playing the skerzil bones had composed a new tune specifically for the king. The strange twang of the lizard gut harps tied the music together.

          None of it distracted King Gnurflax; after a time he waved his hand to dismiss them. Ignoring the worried looks of his queen and Namza, his court wizard, Gnurflax left the great cavern and headed toward his private caves. But he did not enter those caves. Instead, he walked past them, to another cave, a cave forbidden to all but himself.

          It was dark there, but delvers can deal with darkness.

          It was silent, but silence in the underground world of Delvharken is not unusual.

          He waited for something to break the silence, waited until it seemed every nerve in his body was strung as tightly as the lizard gut harps. Finally he whispered,  "Where are you, friend?"

===========================================================

Who is Gnurflax looking for?

Heh heh heh . . .

Bruce

IT'S A BOOK!

DARK WHISPERS: the Audiobook!

Covers Up on MySpace

The Unicorn Chronicles #3:

Dark Whispers

By Bruce Coville

Keynote:  At last—the long awaited third volume of the Unicorn Chronicles!

This is a riveting tale of two quests. In the first, Cara Diana Hunter searches for an ancient story that may unravel the secret of a long enmity between the unicorns and the monstrous delvers.  In the second, Cara’s father journeys to free her mother from the Rainbow Prison.  As Cara travels through the strange and terrifying underground world of the delvers and to the court of the centaur king -- her father travels from mysterious India to the depths of the Rainbow Prison itself. Who can be trusted? Who is the enemy? Readers will be at the edge of their seats with this multi-stranded story filled with wonder and suspense.  

BRUCE COVILLE received over a dozen Children’s Choice Awards, and has written more than 90 books, including My Teacher Is An Alien, Into the Land of the Unicorns, Song of the Wanderer, and The Monster’s Ring.  He lives in Syracuse, New York.

Excerpt From Dark Whispers:

The Dimblethum was passing beneath a quilpum tree when a low voice whispered, “I know what you want.”

          The Dimblethum stopped, looked up. There was no one in sight. Even so, the voice spoke again. “I know what you want.”

          “Go away!” growled the Dimblethum. He shook his head and started forward.

          “I can go a world away and I would still be close by,” whispered the voice. “And no matter where I go, I’ll always know what you want. The question is, do you know what you would give to have it?”

          “Go away!” roared the Dimblethum.

          “As you wisssssh,” sighed the voice.

          The Dimblethum heard a rustling sound, then nothing. He waited in the silence for a long moment, then leaned against the tree, covered his face with his paws, and began to weep.

Here's a brief bit from DARK WHISPERS:

       Nedzik the delver trotted unhappily at the rear of the cove he had been assigned to travel with. The creature was a little over three feet tall, with a bulging head over which scraggled a few strands of hair. His eyes, made for seeing in the dark, were enormous. In contrast, his nose was a thin, upthrust thing that displayed two large, gaping nostrils. His arms and legs were lean, but corded with muscle. He wore a green tunic, and a grey, hooded cloak.

          In these things, he looked like every other delver in the cove. Where he differed was in his feelings. While they were all confident in their task, Nedzik was swamped with confusion — something delvers rarely experienced. The fact that the cove was moving so rapidly toward its destination only made things worse, since he could not decide what he should do when they reached it. Even worse, his time for thinking was running out.

          Of one thing he was certain: The attack they were planning was wrong. No, more than simply wrong. If they obtained what they were after it would allow King Gnurflax to help the Hunters enter Luster, and that was a thought that filled him with terror.

Greetings, Gang!

My wonderful webmaster has provided me with something I've been wanting for a long time -- a way to post here on a regular basis and keep you updated on the long, long, long, long, long overdue third book of the Unicorn Chronicles.

Okay, the bad news is, it's still not finished.  (SORRY!)

The good news is, the work is moving ahead. I now have about 360 pages, which means it is considerably longer than SONG OF THE WANDERER already. The bad news is, I still have a long way to go!  The good news is, that means it's going to be a nice, long book, for those of you who like that sort of thing. There are some new characters I think you'll really enjoy, and some strange discoveries that I'm only beginning to understand myself.

Now that I have this tool for communicating, keep watching this space for regular updates. I'll tell you how much I've written, when I've written it. (For example, I got two new pages this morning.)

your slow but faithful friend,

Bruce Coville