Dragon Wytch

And then I heard a distant call, so far away I couldn't even begin to place it. I closed my eyes and let go, following the summons.



I blinked. I was sitting in a meadow filled with apple trees and wild honeysuckle and grass so long it tickled my knees. Inhaling sharply, the taste of plum and jasmine hit my tongue. The horn was in my lap, and a shower of apple blossoms rained gently over my shoulder.



"What the—" I stood. Where the hell was I now? I'd recognized my initiation night, but this… I'd never been here before. Never even seen this meadow. I had no idea if I was in Otherworld or Earthside, though I suspected I'd been yanked back to Otherworld, because the woods felt more genteel.



The sound of a tinkling voice rang so faint that I almost missed it, and something tickled my hand next to the horn. I glanced down to see a tiny man standing there, holding onto the side of the spire. He was about six inches tall and reminded me of an oak deva, with deeply tanned skin and rich green clothing. Only he was much smaller than any of the tree devas I'd met over the years.



"Who… what… you can't be the…" I stopped, realizing I had no idea what to say next.



He gazed up at me, a long, luxurious look from behind tiny fringed eyelashes. "I'm the guardian of the horn."



The guardian of the horn? Well, I'd thought it might be sentient. This just proved I was at least half right. "What's your name?"



"You will either earn my name, or you will not, depending on what happens. If you earn my name, then you may wield the horn and control its powers." He grinned then, and I saw that he had really sharp teeth. I backtracked really fast.



"Are you a djinn?"



He shrugged, his expression noncommittal. "No. Now, answer me this: am I telling you the truth?"



Great, a jokester. But as I studied his face, I realized he was anything but joking. "I have no idea," I said after a moment. I couldn't read his energy, couldn't really even read his aura. He didn't smell of demon, but he sure wasn't run-of-the-mill Fae.



"Since you don't have a clue as to whether I'm lying, why did you bother to ask? Not too bright, I'd say." He leaned back against the horn and crossed his arms and began to whistle some aimless tune.



I frowned, more at his attitude than what he said. After all, he was right. Asking if he was a djinn had been stupid. If he was one, then he'd probably just lie to me. Djinns weren't inherently evil, but they were dangerous, and they delighted in causing havoc. And if he wasn't one, well, that didn't ensure that he was telling the truth.



Glancing around, I asked, "So, where are we? Otherworld?"



The spirit lithely jumped off my hand, onto the box. He sat down, cross-legged, and leaned back on his hands. "No, not really. And yet, we aren't Earthside, either."



"The astral?"



"No."



He was seriously starting to tick me off. "Listen bud, I don't have time for guessing games. I don't watch Jeopardy, and I don't play Twenty Questions. So knock it off and tell me what I need to know."



"You don't have much patience, do you?" He jumped off the box and down to the ground. Within seconds, he was cloaked in a puff of green smoke. When the cloud dissipated, he was standing there, seven feet tall and grinning. He held out his hand, and I hesitantly took it, allowing him to help me up. I kept hold of the horn, though. No way was he getting it. Maybe he wasn't a djinn, maybe he really was the guardian of the horn. But either way, I'd be stupid to hand over the artifact to him. It might free him from service, and that could cause one hell of a headache.



"Patience is for those who have the luxury of not being chased by a bunch of demons." I pulled my hand away the moment I was on my feet. The meadow seemed overly bright, and I had trouble seeing very far, even when I shaded my eyes from the brilliant light flooding the lea. The smell of newly mown grass wafted by on the breeze, and the warmth of the sun on my skin made me want to lie right back down and go to sleep. I yawned. "I'm beginning to feel pixie led," I said. "You aren't a pixie, are you?"



"No." He shrugged again. "Don't worry yourself over time. We're outside of it, so this little interlude won't intrude on your schedule. Now, stand here for a moment." He motioned for me to stay where I was, and before I could blink, had receded to the far side of the field.



One minute I stood, holding the horn, wondering what the hell was going on. The next moment, a bolt of lightning came sailing my way, darting like a rocket on steroids. A seriously fry-your-ass-to-a-crispy-critter rocket.



Before I could think about it, I instinctively raised the horn and focused on trying to shield myself, because in the split second I had left, there was no way I could dodge the hundred million volt wake-up call barreling my way.



"Dissipate!" As I spoke, a wavering barrier shot up between me and the burst of Electric Death. There was a loud crash, and the concussion knocked me off my feet, back a good two yards to land hard on my butt. But the barrier did its work, and the lightning discharged, harmlessly reaming into the ground.



As I lay there staring at the worms that wriggled to the surface, shocked by the sudden intrusion into their domain, I couldn't help but think that perhaps I'd made a teensy mistake by accepting Feddrah-Dahns's offer of help.



The spirit was instantly at my side. "You seem to have handled that in good fashion. Here, let me help you up."



I ignored his hand and pushed myself to my feet, wavering as a ripple of dizziness ran through me. "What the fuck were you trying to do? You could have killed me." Eyeing him warily, I checked myself over to make sure nothing was broken or singed.



"I had to test you. Very few can command the power of the horn, and I'm bound to keep it away from those with whom it won't resonate." His voice was so calm that it only inflamed my outrage.



"And just what would have happened if I'd been one of the majority who can't wield the horn? What then, pray tell?" My shock was wearing off. Not a good thing for my wannabe Ben Franklin dude. He'd better make tracks and fast.



He shrugged again. "You would have died."



I stood, rooted to the spot. My jaw refused to close for a moment. Finally, I shut my mouth as a dragonfly zipped a little too close for comfort. I jammed my finger against his chest. Hard. "Died? You would have really let me die?" Again, the casual nod as if I'd just asked him if he liked potato salad. "What would have happened to my body since, according to you, we're standing outside of time?"



"Heart attack." Again, the stupid grin.



Oh cripes. Why worry about Smoky accidentally frying me when I had this miscreant to turn me into witch-on-a-stick? Magical creature be damned! I slammed both my hands against his chest, catching him off guard and sending him stumbling back.



"Who the fuck do you think you are? This is your idea of a test? Hell's whiskers! Gee, let's give her a chance—a slim chance—if she can't wield the horn, we'll just toast her right up? I got news for you, dude. I don't taste that good with butter and jam!"



Riled but good, I clenched my fists and stepped toward him, ready to deck him one. "What the hell is your name, anyway? Since I passed the test and can control the horn, you'd damned well better tell me what it is and what sort of creature you are, or so help me, I'll gouge your goddamn eyes out."



He coughed and straightened his vest. "Get a grip. You aren't hurt. Not if you're acting like this." At my growl, he held up both hands in surrender and jumped back. "Okay, okay! I'm a jindasel."



I blinked. This was a new one. "Say what?"



"A jindasel. We're not very well-known. You were right, in a way. We are similar to the djinn; however, we're created from the spirit of another being—usually one of great power—to be used as guardians. And usually, the object we're set to guard was, at one time, part of our originator's body. Perhaps a preserved hand and arm, or—as in this case—the horn of the Black Unicorn." He caught his breath while I pondered this. "My name is Eriskel."



Unsure of just what to say, I cleared my throat. "A jindasel named Eriskel. How… poetical." It struck me that, if he was created from the spirit of the Black Beast… "So you're actually siphoned off of the Black Unicorn's spirit? Do you share your creator's thoughts?"



"Not exactly." Eriskel looked intrigued. "No one's really ever asked much about my existence before. It might help to think of me as a minor incarnation of the Black Unicorn. He gave me my own sentience. While I live to serve and obey him, he allows me some independence."



A thought crossed my mind. The Monkey's Paw… The Hand… were they guarded by creatures like this one? Stories horrific and—I had thought—fictional. But now, I wondered. Were these tales based on some knowledge of the jindasel? And the Black Unicorn, was he friend or foe?



"Will you always take this form?"



"Only when you summon me." Eriskel shook his head. "Now that you've learned my name, you can call me forth from the horn. If you abuse the power, I will destroy you. If you give away the horn, I will test the one to whom you offer it. But be aware—this artifact has limitations. It is not infinite, and it must recharge itself under the dark of the moon every month to retain its power. If you use it too often, the horn will forsake you."



"Then you would have destroyed the bugbear and goblin who stole it, wouldn't you?" That would have been quite a shocker for them.—Their thievery would have been in vain, if they'd tried to keep the horn for their own use.



"Aye, if their powers were no greater than mine. I'm not invincible, however. Any greater demon—or even some of the lesser ones—would put up a strong fight against me."



I stared at the crystal spire, cool in my palm. "What can I do with this against the demons?"



Here, Eriskel flashed me an enigmatic smile. "Much… but exactly what is for you to discover. I can't give you all the answers, because I don't know all of them. And some, I'm sworn to protect. Only those truly worthy of the power will find the way to use it. Or those who can torture it out of the horn."



Our eyes met, and I knew when he said that, he meant "torture it out of me." Eriskel was vulnerable against the darker forces we faced. If I lost the horn to the demons, chances are he'd be destroyed in their quest to assume control over it. Which meant I needed to guard it as safely as I could. Another life resting on my shoulders.



I held up the box. "Should I store it in here?"



He shook his head. "Only when you place it under the dark of the moon to recharge. You'll find, beneath the velvet cloth in the box, a special sheath to be worn on a belt. And there is one more thing."



He paused, holding out his hand as if reaching for something. A cloak appeared in his hand, black and velvety soft. It was lustrous against the ethereal sunlight that glimmered everywhere in the meadow. "Wear this cloak, and it will afford you a measure of protection, though don't count on it to save you. Never count on anything or anyone but yourself."



I was surprised to find the cloak was lighter than spider-silk. And yet, when I twirled it around my shoulders and fastened it with the golden star-flower brooch at the neck I felt warm, almost sheltered. The cloak came to my knees and had four pockets inside, including one that was perfectly shaped for the horn. Side slits for my hands and arms made it much more practical than most capes, and I brought up the hem of the material to caress my cheek. As the soft cloth brushed against my skin, shivers of energy raced up and down my spine. Something very powerful and ancient had provided the velvet for this drape.



Almost afraid to ask, I finally whispered, "Panther fur?" Delilah would have my hide if I came home dressed in catskin.



The jindasel shook his head. "No, far more rare. There have been eight Black Unicorns throughout history."



"Eight? I thought there was only one."



"Only in legend. No, there have been eight, each a descendant of the one prior. Their bones have been preserved in a sacred place, the whereabouts unknown to all but the current king or queen."



With a sudden glimpse of what was coming, I almost didn't want to hear the rest. The thought was overwhelming. "Umm… so this velvet is…"



"Fur from the hide of the previous Black Unicorn. The bones are bleached and buried, and the skins are used solely for cloaks, each given to one who has earned the right to wield one of the horns. Eight horns in history. Eight cloaks."



Stunned, I could only brush my fingers over the fur. So the Black Unicorns didn't shed their horns like I'd heard. And I was wearing a fortune on my back. I'd have to be careful and never tell anyone what the cloak was made of if I wanted to keep myself alive.



"I'll do my best to keep it safe," I murmured, thinking aloud.



"If you lose it—if someone evil gets hold of it, the cloak will burst into flames. But the horn—each horn is a magical artifact, and each time the Black Beast dies and his horn is shed, his spirit spins off a jindasel before migrating into the next body."



"Whoa. You mean like the phoenix? The Black Unicorn is reborn each time?"



He nodded and folded his arms. "Now, do you see why you must not lose the horn? These are sacred artifacts, entrusted to your care. You face demon spawn, and they can overpower me. Unfortunately, you are vastly outnumbered, and if you fail, Shadow Wing will overrun Earth and move into Otherworld. And so the Dahns unicorns approached the Black Beast and petitioned for help. This is the aid he surrendered."