Its downy coat was fluffed out against the morning chill, and dew sparkled on its silver-white fur, making it shimmer like the most expensive silk velvet. Its head was as long, proportionately, as a horse's, and the ears were much the same shape as a horse's, but there was more space for intelligence behind the wide speaking eyes, the muzzle smaller and more delicate in comparison. And there all resemblance to a horse ended.
A unicorn. I'm looking at a REAL UNICORN.
It wasn't that Kellen had ever been told that unicorns didn't exist, or anything like that, because they certainly existed in wondertales and were discussed in the history of the City and in his magickal texts. As a Student at the Mage College, he'd studied them, just as he'd studied other creatures of magick and the inferior Other Races that the Light had seen fit to create in his Natural History courses.
But he now suspected that the Natural Histories he'd studied had been written by people who'd never seen one, since they compared unicorns to horses, deer, lions, and even goats! Now that he'd actually seen one, Kellen didn't think you could really compare a unicorn to anything besides another unicorn.
And he suspected that no one in the City had seen one for a very long time.
'No,' the unicorn said in answer to his offer, nostrils flaring. 'But I thank you for the thought. You should eat it all. You'll need your strength.'
Kellen did not need to be told twice. He sat by the stream and wolfed down the rest of the coarse loaf quickly, along with a great deal of stream water, then filled and stoppered the water-bottle for later use, putting it carefully into the knapsack. He'd once heard someone say that hunger made everything taste good, but to tell the truth, he was so busy cramming the bread into his stomach that he didn't taste it at all.
He decided to use the damp remains of his overtunic to make a sort of handhold or collar, so he wouldn't need to cling so tightly to the unicorn's throat. Provided, of course, that the unicorn didn't object…
'Now what, unicorn?' Kellen asked, getting to his feet again and stretching.
'Now, Kellen, we go on,' the unicorn answered, picking its way carefully among the moss-covered boulders, so that Kellen could mount once more. 'And—since we are bound together in this, you might as well call me by my name. That would be—Shalkan.'
NOW that there was light, Kellen could at least see when to duck, and Shalkan was not going nearly as fast as he had been while it was dark. Kellen's makeshift handhold worked fairly well; with the rags of his over-tunic looped around the unicorn's neck, he could hold on to the knotted ends and sit almost upright, instead of lying along Shalkan's back.
'Are you sure we're still in City lands?' Kellen asked tentatively. All he could see in any direction was trees: climbing up the rocky slopes, trailing down them, their tops vanishing into the dawn mist—trees so enormous they'd stifled most of the undergrowth beneath their canopy.
'I'm sure,' Shalkan said. 'And next you're going to ask me how the Outlaw Hunt can possibly find us all this long way from the City.'
'No I'm not,' Kellen protested, stung—although that had been the question on the tip of his tongue. 'It's enchanted. It has magick. Like bloodhounds, I suppose; the Mages would give it some kind of scent and turn it loose.'
'But you have no idea of what it actually is. Have you ever seen an Outlaw Hunt?' Shalkan asked.
'I… no,' Kellen admitted sheepishly. He wasn't sure anyone had. He doubted anyone had been Banished from the City in his lifetime. Or—at least, not that he'd heard. There was the matter of the sister he didn't remember… 'Have you?' he said boldly.
'Let us say I have a certain experience with the Hunt, just as you are about to, unless we are very lucky.' Shalkan shook his head, and the sharp tip of his horn seemed to give off a little more light. 'So, allow me to enlighten you. The Hunt is composed of Hounds—stone statues in the shape of hounds, animated by the Mages just as they animate statues of humans to do their bidding.'
'Stone golems,' Kellen said aloud. He thought of the stone guardians in front of House Tavadon, and shivered.
'Exactly so.' Shalkan continued, his voice sounding dispassionate and pitiless. 'The Hounds are tireless, relentless, and voiceless. Give them the scent, and they pursue until they catch their prey—or until they reach the borders of the lands claimed by the City. And when—if—they catch you, they will tear you to ribbons.' Shalkan cocked his head to look back over his shoulder at his rider. 'And me, of course,' he added, matter-of-factly. 'I'm helping you, after all. They'll kill anything that stands between them and their prey. Your City Mages have gone to a great deal of trouble to ensure that not only do those who have been Banished not survive the experience, but to discourage anyone outside of the City from even considering helping them.'
'But of course, it's all out of sight of the Mages who sent them, so their hands and consciences are clean,' Kellen added bitterly. He thought about a pack of the same Hounds that guarded the front of House Tavadon running silently along his trail, and winced inwardly. Somehow, knowing exactly what was after him made it worse. He wondered if somehow he'd always known he was going to end up this way, and that was why he'd particularly hated the mastiffs, then dismissed the thought with a shrug. It couldn't matter now.
