“A moment, High Lord.” Abernathy was shaking his head in confusion. “Meeks sent three dreams — yours to provide him a way back into Landover, Questor Thews’ to give him possession of the missing books of magic, and Willow’s to regain for him the stolen bridle. The dreams worked as they were intended except for Willow’s. She found the bridle, but she failed to bring it back to you as the dream had told her she must. Why so?”
“The fairies,” Willow said.
“The fairies,” Ben echoed.
“I said that first morning that my dream seemed incomplete, that I felt I was to be shown more,” Willow explained. “There were other dreams after that; in each, the unicorn appeared to be less a demon, more a victim. The fairies sent those dreams to guide me in my search and to teach me that my fears were false ones. Gradually, I came to realize that the first dream was somehow a lie, that the black unicorn was not my enemy, that it needed help, and that I must provide that help. After the dragon gave the bridle of spun gold to me, I was persuaded further — by dreams and visions — that I must go in search of the unicorn myself if I were ever to discover the truth of matters.”
“The fairies sent Edgewood Dirk to me.” Ben sighed. “They wouldn’t intervene to help me directly, of course — they never do that for anyone. Answers to our difficulties must always come from within; they expect us to solve our own problems. But Dirk was the catalyst that helped me to do that. Dirk helped me to discover the truth about the medallion. Meeks had instigated the deception that led me to believe I had lost it. Dirk helped me see thatI was the one fostering that deception, and that if I could recognize the truth of things, others could as well — which is exactly what happened.”
“Which is why the Paladin was able to reach us in time, apparently,” Questor said.
“And why the books of magic were finally destroyed and the unicorns freed,” Willow added.
“And why Meeks was defeated,” Abernathy finished.
“That’s about it,” Ben agreed.
“Great High Lord!” exclaimed Fillip fervently.
“Mighty High Lord!” echoed Sot.
Ben groaned. “Please! Enough already!”
He looked imploringly at the others, but they all just grinned.
It was time to leave. No one much cared for the idea of spending another night in the Melchor. It was agreed they would be better offsetting up camp in the foothills below.
So they trudged wearily down out of the mountains through the fading daylight, the sun sinking behind the western rim of the valley in a haze of scarlet and gray. As they walked, Willow dropped back next to Ben, and her arm locked gently about his.
“What do you think will become of the unicorns?” she asked after a moment.
Ben shrugged. “They’ll probably go back into the mists, and no one will ever see them again.”
“You do not think they will go on to the worlds to which they were sent?”
“Out of Landover?” Ben shook his head. “No, not after all they’ve been through. Not now. They’ll go back home where it’s safe.”
“It isn’t safe in your world, is it?”
“Hardly.”
“It isn’t very safe in Landover, either.”
“No.”
“Do you think it is any safer in the mists?”
Ben thought about that a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”
Willow nodded. “Your world has need of unicorns, doesn’t it? The magic is forgotten?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then maybe it doesn’t matter that it isn’t safe there. Maybe the need outweighs the danger. Maybe at least one unicorn will decide to go anyway.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it.”
Willow’s head lifted slightly. “You say it, but you do not mean it.”
He smiled and did not reply.
They reached the foothills, passed through a broad meadow of red-spotted wildflowers to a stretch of fir, and the kobolds began scouting ahead for a campsite. The air had gone cool, and the approaching twilight gave the land a muted, silvery sheen. Crickets had begun to chirp, and geese flew low across a distant lake. Ben was thinking about home, about Sterling Silver, and the warmth of the life that waited there for him.