“Sorry,” she said again. “Please unicorn, tell us what you think we should do. I’m not sure I understand this cryptic stuff at all.”
The unicorn rested one foot and said, “There is no should. You have choices and they will have consequences. What is most important to you? Do you want to stop the wildfire in its tracks?”
“You mean, Lucerna and her regime?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if I can!”
Quinn rolled his eyes. “I just want to stop hallucinating. Can anybody help me with that?” he sat down on the forest floor and picked up a twig, snapping it repeatedly until it was in little pieces on the ground.
He glanced up at Lilian and the unicorn.
“Well?” he prompted.
The unicorn sighed. “There’s no such thing as hallucinating, Quinn. You’re just seeing the same things in a different way.”
Lilian returned to the subject. “But how can I stop Lucerna? She wants to kill us. And everyone else in the town is happy following her stupid nonsense. They’re like moths to a lamp. I’d have to stop them all believing in it too. I have no idea how to begin.”
The unicorn snatched at a leaf and chewed it, thinking.
Then it said, “but you don’t have to stop them all believing in it. You only have to pretend to believe in it yourself, temporarily.”
Lilian frowned. “What?” she said.
“What?” said Quinn.
“That is all you need to know. You have plenty of time to think it through. Why so horrified Lilian? How many lies have you told in your life? Countless, I daresay. Don’t acquire a burden of guilt; there is no absolute truth anyway. Lying is simply telling what you perceive as the truth from a different perspective. Guilt is a pointless parasite of choice.”
Quinn shook his head. “Don’t make it confusing or anything,” he said.
***
The unicorn told them they had gone into the deep forest, where the strangest and most extraordinary things lived. Of course, it was almost completely inaccessible, and Quinn had only been very lucky to find it because of being rescued from the river.
Quinn told his tale of how he had come to be there, while the unicorn dozed in the sunshine with a slight smile as though it knew the story already. Lilian was still trying to get her mind to accept giant butterflies that could talk. For some reason it was more difficult than accepting that a unicorn had been living in the forest all along, next to the town she had lived in all that time.
Lilian told Quinn about what Lucerna had been doing. He looked disconcerted and didn’t say much, but Lilian couldn’t tell if that was because he was shocked by the news or whether he just didn’t really believe her. Or both.
Quinn asked the unicorn how he could get the butterflies to give him back his horse. Lilian guessed he had been entirely preoccupied with this while she was talking and sighed. Was she the only one who wanted to stop Lucerna taking over the world? Not that she thought Lucerna would really be able to take over the whole world, this wasn’t a fairytale. But the crazy woman was certainly trying.
In answer to Quinn’s question, the unicorn tossed its head towards a tree, and with a great crack its glittery horn broke off and fell to the floor.
Lilian stared, appalled.
“Now you have half a moon to take that back to this troublemaker of yours. Hopefully that will keep her satisfied…until it melts away, which is what happens to unicorn horn once it is detached. To be true, it is worthless.”
Lilian blinked. “But – but – don’t you need it? You’re not a unicorn anymore!”
The unicorn laughed.
“There is a lizard in this forest, and many other forests, that can lose it’s tail any number of times and have it grow back. Every stag you will ever find loses and re-grows his antlers every year. Are they any less a lizard or a deer?”
Lilian looked less appalled.
“I suppose not,” she said.
Quinn took a handkerchief from his pocket that had miraculously not been taken by the river, wrapped the unicorn horn in it and stowed it in his jacket.
“So, it melts?” he said, “within half a month?”
“Indeed,” replied the unicorn. “So, now I will lead you back out of the deep forest. Then your lives are up to yourselves.”
“Can’t you stay with us and help us?” Lilian asked hopefully.
The unicorn shook its head.
“It is not for me to intervene in the workings of all things.”
Lilian nodded reluctantly.
“So, which way?” asked Quinn.
“This way,” said the unicorn, and they followed it through the trees.
***
Lucerna opened the safe.
Money. Money. Hadn’t she wanted it, very much? Wanted more, wanted lots, wanted…only it didn’t seem terribly important now. She had more than enough to keep her happy for the rest of her life. For several lives, probably.
But it just wasn’t the right kind of enough. Her focus had shifted subtly from wealth to control, and the idea of losing even a fraction of it sent her into panic. She rarely allowed herself to be idle and alone – always planning, writing, theorizing and meeting with people. When she couldn’t escape isolation any longer, she would drink. Generously; she could certainly afford to now. She always had at least a bottle of wine before sleep, because it was the only thing that would get her to sleep. Two bottles was safer, because then she wouldn’t dream either. And the dreams…the dreams had become more disturbing by far. When they accidentally occurred.
Lucerna hadn’t even missed Lilian that much. A helpful person in the town had taken on the role of washing her clothes; making toast wasn’t that difficult. And nobody needed to know that the kitchen floor hadn’t been cleaned for two weeks. Or that there was a mouse nest in the upstairs bathroom. Not a fan of mice, Lucerna had only used the ground floor bathroom ever since the discovery of them, despite the fact that it was always far away wherever you were in the building.
Lucerna closed the door of the safe pensively. Perhaps it was time to visit the wine cellar again.
***
First came the hill.
It reached up out of the forest, with a rocky outcrop at the top. The trees crept around the base of the hill, as though it was an island in an ocean of greenery.
“We will not go to the top, just over the side,” said the unicorn. Quinn and Lilian followed in a dreamlike state, too tired for disbelief anymore. As they ascended the hill a little way, the sky seemed to grow incredibly close, and the sun became massive and red-golden. Lilian noticed that the stars were all there, even in daylight; it was just that you had to be closer to the sky to see them…
“The birds have to be careful here, not to fly too close to the sun,” the unicorn remarked vaguely. Quinn just nodded, barely hearing. His mind was strangely blank. Almost like a bright blue-white light had got inside his thoughts and was making them invisible to his mind’s eye. Like those horrible LED lights everyone puts up in winter, he thought. Winter – such as it is. Never mind.
They descended back into the trees again, and here were many spiralling streams winding and chuckling towards the river. Quinn kept thinking he could hear people talking, as though they were discussing things quietly, not wanting him to hear what they were saying.
Lilian was more disconcerted by the strange scrambling flowers, like a cross between a rose and a buttercup, which reached out and wrapped themselves around her ankles and once even her wrist. She focused on keeping up with the unicorn.
They had to jump across some of the streams, and then crossed what seemed to be a deserted orchard. Purple ivy climbed up the lichen-bedecked apple trees, and the apples upon them were extraordinary: green-gold polished with crimson. Lilian wondered whether they were edible.
Suddenly she stopped.
“Have I been here before?” she said.
Quinn looked at her sharply, as though surprised. Or something. Lil
ian wasn’t quite sure.
Only then the unicorn was behind her, pushing her shoulder with its nose to hurry her along.
“It is a phenomenon known as déjà vu, and it happens when you are tired,” the unicorn said. They left the orchard behind and went down an incline covered with larch trees. Only then did the unicorn finish smoothly, as though no time had passed, “We have all been there before, and one day will return again, but now is not the moment.”
Lilian was silent. This was too much for her exhausted mind to take in. It had already become irrelevant now that the place had gone.
All at once they were by the river, but this time it was a different section of it. Here was a shallow ford; yellowy pebbles slowing the current to a gentle pace that hadn’t a hope of washing them away.
The unicorn halted.
“Across the river the butterflies will take care of you,” it stated. Quinn’s expression withered.
“Oh no. Not them again. For the love of sanity, not a butterfly, never again.”
The unicorn laughed. “They will show you on your way, and make sure you are well supplied.”
Lilian noticed that the unicorn’s horn had already grown back. She didn’t know why she had thought it would ever look like a normal horse even without it. The whole creature glowed, so much that even when she blinked there was an impression left on her eyelids.
“Your boots, Lilian,” the unicorn said.
Lilian looked at them. They were very tatty from all the wear and tear of the forest.
“Yeah, what about them?” she replied.
“You can’t walk through the ford in those.”
Lilian obediently took them off, and realized what a relief it was to be walking on the forest floor.
“Wait!” She said, and glanced at Quinn. “How did you…? I couldn’t have walked through there without boots…” as she was speaking she realized that the skin on her own feet had changed. It looked just the same, but it was tough, like the sole of a shoe.
She stared at the unicorn. “So does that mean we don’t need to wear shoes now?” she asked incredulously.
“It was always a choice. I don’t wear shoes. Why should you?”
Quinn inspected his miraculous feet, shrugged, then said “Do we have to go now?”
The unicorn shifted a hoof. “If you are in a hurry, then I suppose you had,” it offered.
Quinn faltered. “So, we’re going back to Stellaria?” he said. He made an effort not to catch Lilian’s eye. I’m so confused with who is real here, he thought.
“It looks like you are going in that direction,” the unicorn observed.
Quinn took that to be a yes. “Okay,” he said. “Well – see you later then.” Or whatever, he thought. He splashed into the ford, hoping decisiveness would save him from the confusion of such an unregulated scenario.
Lilian didn’t want to go back to Stellaria, but it seemed as though the unicorn wanted them to. She reached out and hugged the unicorn, and for a second it was like surrendering to an army of peacefulness.
Then she found that her feet were in the water and she stumbled away, the brilliant light dissolving into it’s own shadow.
Chapter 6
Lilian’s first sighting of a giant butterfly was very close up. It landed on her nose and quite clearly said, “stop.”
“I have,” she answered nervously.
The butterfly flickered away and sunned itself on a branch in a beam of the sinking daylight.
“You are leaving,” it stated. Lilian nodded. The butterfly continued. “We will show you which way to go. And there will be food and water waiting for you there.”
“Thank you,” said Lilian, still marvelling at the sheer size of the creatures.
Quinn could barely face the things after the last time he’d seen them; they reminded him of his stupidity falling into the river, and he hoped they wouldn’t mention it. He summoned the courage to say, “so which way then?”
Half a dozen butterflies flew in a line ahead of them.
“Follow us,” one said. So they followed. Lilian was also in wonder about her feet. She trod on a bramble and nothing happened.
The butterflies led them through pines and beeches and silver birch, up to the second branch of the river. It was much narrower and shallower here, easy to cross.
“If you are ever lost in the forest again, you are always welcome here,” the spokes-butterfly said. “Over the river you will find what we promised you. Good bye.”
Quinn and Lilian stepped across the river. When they looked back, the dusk had somehow intervened with the visibility and there were no butterflies to be seen.
They walked a little way up the slope, wondering what they were supposed to be looking out for. There seemed to be nothing but muddy undergrowth and fir trees. The turquoise moss on the other side of the river had not reached this bank; if they’d had normal feet it would have been excruciatingly scratchy.
Suddenly Quinn threw himself down and sat against a tree. Lilian paused.
“Um, are you okay?” she asked. It occurred to her that they’d never really spoken in any situation that was not either dire, just plain weird, or interrupted by magical creatures.
Quinn glared at her. Lilian was not altogether surprised, because when people were upset about something, they always glared at you even if they didn’t mean to. She made a mental note to refrain from glaring when she was upset thereafter, because she now realized how discouraging it could be.
“It’s fine for you,” Quinn said. “You and your unicorn friend, everything works fine for you. I guess it made me fall in the river, conspiring with those stupid butterflies. I was the one sent off into this stupid forest. I didn’t ask to go here. They’ve stolen my horse, my knife, quite possibly my sanity and all the beast can do is smirk and ignore me and be nice to you because you’re a girl.”
“I’m sorry, what?!” Lilian said incredulously.
Quinn gave a hollow laugh.
“Yeah, I get it. This was probably all set up to make a fool of me, wasn’t it? Or perhaps unicorns are evil. And maybe you’re some kind of witch that helps it along. Perhaps Lucerna was right. That’s why she got rid of you. Yeah, I get it now.”
Lilian shook her head in bewilderment.
“I – Quinn, I – what can I say that will make you realize that’s crazy? How on earth did you figure that one out? It doesn’t make sen -“
“Oh, nothing makes sense, does it? Not in this place. And where’s my horse? Gone. Probably been killed and eaten by some hideous – hideous…”
Lilian interrupted.
“But Quinn,” she pointed. “Is that your horse?”
Quinn gave her a withering look, then turned to where she was pointing. At once he was scrambling to his feet, hurrying over.
“Daisy!” he yelled. The mare whickered in recognition and trotted to see him.
Instantly he was all concern: lifting her hooves to check the horseshoes, peering at her eyes, checking for injuries.
“What a clever girl, you found me, and didn’t even get hurt! But where is your tack? How did you get it off without strangling yourself?”
Daisy snorted and shoved her head at Quinn. He spun round and saw the saddle, bridle, saddlebags and knife hanging on a low branch of a tree. Then he turned to Lilian.
“I’m sure this is some kind of trick. I was doing very well before you got here. What are you? Who are you really? I won’t have this anymore.”
Lilian was scared and angry. She refused to glare, though.
“I’m exactly what I said I was. I’m Lilian, I’m human, and if this is some kind of trick then it wasn’t planned by me. Honestly. Really, truly honestly.”
Quinn looked suspicious. He began to put the tack on Daisy. Lilian tried to appeal to his sense of reason.
“Look, I hate this stupid forest as well. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you somehow. I’m sorry it’s all been a mess. But please don’t blame it
on me because I didn’t start any of this. I just wanted to warn you so Lucerna wouldn’t…” Quinn’s expression hadn’t changed. Apparently he wasn’t even listening. Lilian found this so irritating that she couldn’t help adding, “but, you know, maybe I shouldn’t have bothered.”
Quinn straightened from buckling Daisy’s girth, strapped his knife on to his belt and glanced at Lilian.
“Yeah. Well, maybe don’t next time, if you’re going to do more harm than good. I can look after myself thanks.” Then he stuck his foot in the stirrup, hopped deftly into the saddle and rode away; leaving Lilian standing, her mind pointlessly circling, her face stricken.
***
Quinn wondered if Lilian would run after him. He didn’t know what had got into him. Who would just leave somebody as innocently pathetic as Lilian in the middle of a forest? Who would suspect Lilian - of all people - to have some vindictive ulterior motive? It was ridiculous. Yet he couldn’t shake off the idea that there was some conspiracy going on here and he was so confused after all the psychedelic weirdness that he didn’t know what to think anymore.
He almost wondered if he’d just made it all up, if he’d just hit his head and the last few ‘days’ had really been about five minutes. Which would explain why Daisy had been just a few yards away, and maybe the saddle had got itself caught in the tree…maybe he hadn’t done the girth up properly before…and Daisy could probably get her bridle off, she was a crafty horse.
It didn’t explain his feet though.
Or the unicorn horn wrapped in his handkerchief.
Was Lilian even real? Had she ever been?
And what about Lucerna? Was she really that bad? Would she really kill him? Well, she had shown all the signs of a psychotic paranoid-delusional with an obsessive-compulsive money laundering habit when he’d seen her, so it oughtn’t be ruled out. But then, after the time he’d spent in this forest, her setup seemed relatively reasonable. Rational, almost.
He just wanted to simplify things…
He slowed Daisy to a trot, then a walk. Where was he trying to go?
Perhaps Lucerna was just trying to make lots of money. Perhaps she thought it was all nonsense as well, and didn’t even believe any of what she said. That was highly possible. In which case, if he arranged a meeting with her and said he wouldn’t tell anybody that it wasn’t real, she might let him off and he might even get some of the profits she made from the unicorn horn. Somebody would be stupid enough to buy it and then give all their money to the ‘Deus’, he was sure.