The Beast of Noor by Janet Lee Carey

Author:Janet Lee Carey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

EPITT THE SPY

Where the river’s blood is streaming And wild animals are dreaming.

—THE OLD MEN OF MOUNT SHALEM

THE DRUM SOUNDED AGAIN, AND HIGH ABOVE THE GLIMMER walls a score of sylths flew, bearing up a large, dark cloth. They lowered their burden to the stony ground before the captives, then tossed flowers on the dead unicorn that lay atop the cloth. Lilies and wild irises fell across the body, but beneath the heavily scented blooms the bloody gash in its throat could still be seen.

Tears streamed down Hanna’s cheeks. Here was the unicorn from her dreamwalks. She’d seen her again and again, running from two large beasts, though she could never make out the look of them. And in that moment she remembered where she’d seen the stone tree before. In her dream the unicorn had run past the three-spired tree.

“Here,” said Queen Shaleedyn. “Look long at the work you’ve done.” Her violet eyes seemed larger now and cold as the coming night. She raised her proud chin. “Surely in your world as in ours the unicorn is a magical beast and above the hunter’s rights to slay for meat!” Her voice picked up strength, as a gale does rising early in the first hours of a storm. “Yet you come to Attenlore and kill my beloved steed, Neurreal! She was free to wander as she willed but loyal to me always. Whenever I wanted to ride, I needed only speak her name, and she would come.” Shaleedyn’s lip trembled. Again, and more softly, the queen added. “She’d cross all Oth to come.”

Both Hanna and Gurty were trying to protest through clamped jaws, and the Falconer struggled against the webbing that held him fast to his seat.

Queen Shaleedyn came to a slow stand on her platform above the crowd. Her monarch took sudden flight. “Hessha elandra,” she whispered, stirring her finger in the air. As she stirred, the sound of rushing wind overcame the music. The queen’s hair and gown began to blow in the wind of her own making. “Elandra!” she said again. The sylth folk moaned and cowered, their banners whipping in Shaleedyn’s gale. The cold wind she was stirring rose high and higher, and the trees outside the glistening wall began to sway.

“The law demands payment for this death,” said Shaleedyn over the keening. “If your human world is peopled by half-awakes who have forgotten the ancient laws, then know that our world is not. We the folk of Attenlore live and die by the law of the Old Magic.”

By some power Hanna could not imagine, the Falconer finally struggled to a stand and spoke through his spell webs. “Queen Shaleedyn. This murder is evil to our eyes as well. We did not do this!” His long hair blew back in her storm; still he stood in her great wind, Hanna watched him try to raise his hand, but he could not break the webbing around his arm.

“Queen Shaleedyn,” he cried. “We, too, honor the Old Magic!”

The queen stopped stirring her finger, and the wind began to die down.

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