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Description

Commission for TF Jennifer

"No! It cannot be this one!" Princess Illyria screamed.
"But it must be, my daughter," the King shook his regal head. "You must wed the son of Ghaleria to seal the pact."
"No! No! A thousand times no!" she screamed.
"As your father and your king, I order it. You must obey,"
"The prophesy!" she screamed back.
"That demented old woman was no sorceress nor a sibyl. Her ridiculous prophesy is meaningless."
"Never!"
"And who has seen a unicorn? Ever?"
"The legends are ..."
"Damned legends. Nothing more."
"You bear one on your shield."
"To honour the ancestors who believed in such things. Nothing more."
"They are this family's allies," shrieked Illyria. "They maintain ..."
"The balance," finished the king. "I too was taught the legends as a child. But no mind. This is not myth this is the real world. There are no unicorns today and there have never been such. You will get ready for your journey."
"Until I see a unicorn I shall never marry."

Princess Illyria ran from her father's audience room. This cannot be, could never be, must not be. The old woman, who met her on the street on an outing with her mother when Illyria had been but three, had been so insistent. She had bowed low before the Queen and turned her head to face Illyria, her eyes like burning coals. In her cracked, ancient voice she had whispered quietly something that had stuck, seared into Illyria's memory.

Lest pact be resaid.
To see golden horn
And touch unicorn.

She then bowed low again, handed Illyria a green silk weaving and shuffled off into the crowd. Seconds later, when the Queen ordered the old woman returned, she had vanished. Even the palace's tracking dogs could not find her scent. Illyria remembered the dreams of that next week for the rest of her life. Dreams of unicorn and freedom and herds and magic gateways. Dreams that spoke again and again of her seeing a unicorn before she could wed.

The years that followed at the palace were wonderful ones for Illyria until her fifteenth year. The law of the land decreed that she was now old enough to marry. Her mother had scoured the land for a suitable noble's son but Illyria, despite liking many, refused them all. None had been preceded by the unicorn. Eventually, the young lads were snatched up and, at the ancient age of 20, Illyria was fast coming to believe that the first line "Never to Wed" was the truth of the prophesy.

It was then her father took a hand. Pacts with neighbouring kings required sealing as much as the internal harmony of his family needed her happily married. Though he would have liked her to wed the son of one his largest landholding barons, she had turned that one down twice already. He cursed the old woman and her stupid verse. Numerous good matches had been rejected for lack of a unicorn. He arranged for her to meet a number of other king's sons. With the same result as her mother ... no unicorn meant no marriage.

Fate, in the form of the warrior king Liathus Rhidarian of Ghaleria, stepped in. Four smaller kingdoms to the east had already fallen. His ambassador to Ghaleria's court learned that his eldest son was now of age to wed. He discretely suggested that Illyria, unicorn or no, might be a suitable match. Rhidarian would never invade a land he stood to gain by marriage. For King Jilliack had no sons and Illyria was the eldest daughter. On his death, the kingdom would be hers (or her husband's). It would give he and his wife several more years to try for the son that would secure the succession. Naturally, he had agreed to send his daughter to wed the young prince.

"You will pack and be ready to leave at sun's first light tomorrow," shouted the King. "Tomorrow."

Illyria ran down the corridor to her chambers. Already, the ladies-in-waiting had started packing her things. Great chests, their wooden lids gaping, were everywhere and her belongings were being transferred from closets and cupboards into them. Illyria shrieked and began to try to unpack things as fast as the others placed them into carry trunks. Finally, exhausted by the emotions and her exertions, she fled the chambers carrying her favourite book. Something in her mind said again and again, she must flee. So she ran from the palace to the stables and took her favourite horse. She packed nothing for she felt trapped, pressured. Mounting her horse, she fled to the hills, her horse's hooves thumping a rhythm to match the beating of her heart. For hours she rode until the anger and panic was off her. She found herself somewhere in the eastern mountains that bordered the kingdom. She got down off the horse and looked about her. There could be no doubt. She was in the eastern mountains. But how could that be? They were two days ride from the palace. Even the King's couriers couldn't reach the Eastern garrisons in less than 10 hours. Yet by the sun, nought but three hours had passed. She took the book and, sitting with her back against an ancient tree, began to leaf through the pages again. Mythological beasts of all sorts covered its pages but the page that she lingered longest on was the page with the painting of the unicorn. She touched the image of the unicorn in the picture and began to cry. Why had she been the one to get the old woman's message? Why? She had turned down ever s many fine prospects. Why? One of her tears slid down her cheek and landed on the unicorn in the book. The image seemed to shimmer (or, a more prosaic part of her mind added, maybe it was just the tears). She looked again at the image. There was something there, faintly written on the image, something written in the ancient tongue of this land. She, like all royalty, could read the ancient tongue for it was required on the Days of Invocation when the blessing of the ancient powers was invoked anew to protect the kingdom and it's people. Another tear fell from her nose onto the image and the writing became clearer.

Ithgaran ma ni,
Sho aluan abi,
Loh kenith na kol,
ab urik nithaol.

Her rhyme in the ancient tongue. She looked about the glade. This was an ancient part of the forest. The trees stood tall but many were clearly old, far older than any she could remember seeing anywhere near the palace. Some had openings in their trunks large enough to hold a person's head. The ground, too, was strange. Instead of the usual long grass of the region, there was nought but tiny bladelets barely a centimetre in length. Ancient, lichened stones, too, formed a rough pathway to her left. At her feet was the greatest surprise, a complete circle of tall dark green grass with great mushrooms growing from it. She knew of fairy ring mushrooms but they were tiny. These mushrooms were huge, larger than any the cooks used in their dishes. She looked about again. The very air seemed alive, pulsating with energy. 'Was this the time?' her mind supplied. Taking the book again, she read aloud the words in the ancient tongue. She felt a presence behind her in the forest and turned to face it.

"You again honour the old ways?" a voice in her head asked.
"Old ways?" Illyria asked puzzled.
"You are Princess in the realm and you have read the words of summoning."
"I am Princess Ilyria. What words of summoning?"
"Ihgaran ma ni, Sho aluan abi, Loh kenith na kol, ab urik nithaol, " the voice supplied.
"I did read them."
"Do you understand them?"
"I cannot marry until I see and touch a unicorn."

She heard the faint hoof fall of a light horse to her left and turned to face it. There was nothing there. To her right this time, and still nothing there. There were the sounds of hooves all about her, soft hoofbeats but no owners.

"Reveal yourself," she demanded of the forest.
"I shall," the voice replied.

Illyria's eyes widened. A beautiful white horse stepped from the trees on the far side of the fairy circle. Not a horse, though. For it had a beard and a single glowing horn growing from the centre of it's forehead. A unicorn! They did exist!

"We do indeed. I am King in these realms," the voice of the unicorn stated.
"King? But ..."
"We tolerate the two legs for they have oft helped us. Though of late there has been little congress between us. Even the ancient pact to wed the lines has been neglected. You are the first princess in nearly a century to come to honour that ancient pact."
"Pact?" Illyria hated pacts. A pact would have her wed against her will.
"Surely you know the rest of the spell you have spoken?"

Ko gari an maik
Ko alu an trik
Kiana ahl mora
Joa nithaora.

Illyria's mind supplied the translation

By land and by field
By water and sky
Her old life aside
The unicorn's bride.

"And so it must be, if the magical protection is to be renewed," the unicorn looked at Illyria who had gotten partly upright as the unicorn spoke.
"But I cannot be ..."
"The magicks have already started," the voice said calmly.

Illyria felt a tickle at her forehead and moved her hand to brush the supposed bug. She nearly knocked herself out with the blow and staggered back against the tree, her book closed at her side. She drew her hand, more slowly now, to rub the painful lump. A glint of gold caught her eye.

"My hand!" she shrieked.
"You could not be my bride as you are," the unicorn's voice held a hint of amusement.

She brought both hands before her face only to discover that they were now hooves, shining golden hooves, but hooves nonetheless. Her smooth skin was becoming furred as well as white hairs began to sprout. She felt something twist in her feet and watched, wide eyed with surprise, as her toes grew together and her foot lengthened. Soon there was but a single toe on each foot and this soon changed shape and hardened into another golden hoof.

"How?"
"Your father does not believe in the ancient magicks but they exist."
"But?"
"It was ever thus. Your predecessor, Shian, is still well and whole."
"Shian! She's but a ..."
"Legend? But as real as you and I"

The beautiful white fur covered her body now and the pressure of her silk gown on her new fur made Illyria uncomfortable. But she refused to undress before this beast.

"Beast am I?" the unicorn's voice was amused. "You would be much more comfortable without your clothing but the change will take care of it in time regardless."
"But I must not ..."
"Remove clothing before strangers."
"It is ..."
"Such strange modesties. Still, I shall honour it."

The unicorn walked back into the forest and the presence in her mind faded. Even though the unicorn was no longer present, Illyria could feel the changes continuing to occur. Her immediate problem was to remove the dress and tight underclothes. Damn the corset all princess wore as slaves to fashion. How would she unloose the bindings? A lady-in-waiting would always be there to assist.

"Would you like some help?" a clearly female voice behind her asked.
"Who?"
"I am Princess Shian, one of my Lord's many brides."

Illyria looked over a shoulder and realized there was a small herd of unicorn mares behind her.

"How many?"
"Unicorn never die and the pact has been in place for many centuries."

Illyria could see at least twenty. A small voice told her that these were all of the mythical unicorn princesses, the mythical princesses her hard headed father no longer believed in.

"Alas for him, then," Shian shook her equine head. "Now about that help ..."
"I cannot ..."

She felt something nip at the bindings at the top of her bodice and felt the pressure release. The lace bindings were soon being pulled from their eyelets and the dress fell from her body. The petticoats, too, were soon undone and lay in a heap at Illyria's feet. For some reason, she no longer felt any fear only a sense of freedom.

"That is as it should be," an unknown female voice said in her head. Illyria merely nodded.

The changes continued as the sun set. By moonlight, now, Illyria's body continued to change. Ears, neck and legs lengthened. Her breasts, the envy of her sisters who had been much less well endowed, shrank until they were flush with her chest. Her chest and body increased in size until she was more unicorn than woman. She once again felt the presence of the Unicorn King.

"Are you ready now?"
"I can still speak?"
"The final part of the spell only I can cast," his kind voice said.

Illyria merely nodded. The unicorn stepped careful up to the horse with a woman's face that Illyria had become. His soft warm muzzle reached towards her cheek and he gave her the equine equivalent of a kiss. Illyria felt her face change, stretching out into a muzzle. She watched, unconcerned as her blonde hair fell in clumps to the ground at her feet. Her vision widened until she could see everything around her at once. It was confusing at first but soon seemed as though it had always been.

"I am ready my Lord," Illyria knew the meaning now of the poem. Hers was not a few score years as the bride of a mortal prince. Hers was the eternal marriage, the marriage to the King of the Unicorn.

The trackers found the site ten days later. They were flabbergasted at how she had managed to get to the place for it required traversing many dangerous defiles and crossing the dangerous loose stones of the scree slopes at the base of the mountains. They marveled at how she'd managed to stay on horseback the entire ride. They themselves had had to dismount many times to climb steep unstable slopes. They would have missed the entrance to the pass entirely had not a tracking dog caught her scent again. That this was the last place the Princess Illyria had been was obvious, her clothing, somewhat tattered and soiled still lay at the base of the tree. Her favorite book, too, lay closed at the base of the tree. Oddly though, they found no fairy ring or any indication of one. Gathering up her belongings, they packed for the dangerous journey back to the palace. There they presented their report, the soiled clothing and the book to the King.

"Unicorns! Why Unicorns?"
"But my Lord!," one of the men protested.
"They exist nowhere but in superstition and useless tomes such as this one!"

He slid everything to the floor in his anger. The tome opened, perhaps by accident perhaps by design, to the pages on unicorns. The King looked down at the legend of the Unicorn Princess and his breath caught. He too had loved the book as a child and could still remember its contents well. The ancient image, showing Princess Shian being transformed into a unicorn, had changed. Shian had had dark hair and been slender of build. The blonde princess that graced the page was not the image he remembered. He paused in his tirade. She was familiar. Too familiar. He bent to pick the tome from where he in his anger had pushed it. At first in disbelief and then in understanding, he read and reread the legend. Everywhere that Shian's name had appeared in the story, a new name was now inscribed "Illyria". Of the old name, nothing remained. It was as if the book had been written anew, as if Shian had never been part of the story. The pact, that pact he had not believed existed save in legend, was once more in force.

But that did not save him from his current situation. When Illyria failed to materialize to marry the prince of Ghaleria, King Rhidarian took it as a personal affront and set his armies in motion. King Jilliak knew it was a lost cause. What were his five thousand men against the fifty thousand strong army of Ghaleria? He debated immediate surrender when the army reached the eastern passes. At least his people would be spared the ravages of the war he was sure to lose. He gathered the such forces as he could muster and headed to meet his doom. Three days later, we was met by a courier from the Eastern Garrison.

"My Lord! My Lord! Great News!" he panted as he ran up to the king.
"What news?" King Jilliak frowned.
"The enemy," the man panted. The King waited. "They are no more."
"How?"
"A great land slide and water. They are all dead. Rhidarian, his royal court, his generals and all but one of his sons. A miracle, my Lord. A miracle."
"A miracle," repeated King Jilliak.

He thought of the tome and the defence promised by the magical realms in that ancient pact. The pact now renewed by the marriage of his daughter to the King of the Unicorn. He thought of the pact he'd tried to forge with the unwilling marriage of Illyria to that Ghalerian swine. He had the better pact now. Ghaleria was no longer a threat to anyone. His lands were secure again. Guarded by magic, the magic of the unicorn.

Description

Commission for TF Jennifer

"No! It cannot be this one!" Princess Illyria screamed.
"But it must be, my daughter," the King shook his regal head. "You must wed the son of Ghaleria to seal the pact."
"No! No! A thousand times no!" she screamed.
"As your father and your king, I order it. You must obey,"
"The prophesy!" she screamed back.
"That demented old woman was no sorceress nor a sibyl. Her ridiculous prophesy is meaningless."
"Never!"
"And who has seen a unicorn? Ever?"
"The legends are ..."
"Damned legends. Nothing more."
"You bear one on your shield."
"To honour the ancestors who believed in such things. Nothing more."
"They are this family's allies," shrieked Illyria. "They maintain ..."
"The balance," finished the king. "I too was taught the legends as a child. But no mind. This is not myth this is the real world. There are no unicorns today and there have never been such. You will get ready for your journey."
"Until I see a unicorn I shall never marry."

Princess Illyria ran from her father's audience room. This cannot be, could never be, must not be. The old woman, who met her on the street on an outing with her mother when Illyria had been but three, had been so insistent. She had bowed low before the Queen and turned her head to face Illyria, her eyes like burning coals. In her cracked, ancient voice she had whispered quietly something that had stuck, seared into Illyria's memory.

Lest pact be resaid.
To see golden horn
And touch unicorn.

She then bowed low again, handed Illyria a green silk weaving and shuffled off into the crowd. Seconds later, when the Queen ordered the old woman returned, she had vanished. Even the palace's tracking dogs could not find her scent. Illyria remembered the dreams of that next week for the rest of her life. Dreams of unicorn and freedom and herds and magic gateways. Dreams that spoke again and again of her seeing a unicorn before she could wed.

The years that followed at the palace were wonderful ones for Illyria until her fifteenth year. The law of the land decreed that she was now old enough to marry. Her mother had scoured the land for a suitable noble's son but Illyria, despite liking many, refused them all. None had been preceded by the unicorn. Eventually, the young lads were snatched up and, at the ancient age of 20, Illyria was fast coming to believe that the first line "Never to Wed" was the truth of the prophesy.

It was then her father took a hand. Pacts with neighbouring kings required sealing as much as the internal harmony of his family needed her happily married. Though he would have liked her to wed the son of one his largest landholding barons, she had turned that one down twice already. He cursed the old woman and her stupid verse. Numerous good matches had been rejected for lack of a unicorn. He arranged for her to meet a number of other king's sons. With the same result as her mother ... no unicorn meant no marriage.

Fate, in the form of the warrior king Liathus Rhidarian of Ghaleria, stepped in. Four smaller kingdoms to the east had already fallen. His ambassador to Ghaleria's court learned that his eldest son was now of age to wed. He discretely suggested that Illyria, unicorn or no, might be a suitable match. Rhidarian would never invade a land he stood to gain by marriage. For King Jilliack had no sons and Illyria was the eldest daughter. On his death, the kingdom would be hers (or her husband's). It would give he and his wife several more years to try for the son that would secure the succession. Naturally, he had agreed to send his daughter to wed the young prince.

"You will pack and be ready to leave at sun's first light tomorrow," shouted the King. "Tomorrow."

Illyria ran down the corridor to her chambers. Already, the ladies-in-waiting had started packing her things. Great chests, their wooden lids gaping, were everywhere and her belongings were being transferred from closets and cupboards into them. Illyria shrieked and began to try to unpack things as fast as the others placed them into carry trunks. Finally, exhausted by the emotions and her exertions, she fled the chambers carrying her favourite book. Something in her mind said again and again, she must flee. So she ran from the palace to the stables and took her favourite horse. She packed nothing for she felt trapped, pressured. Mounting her horse, she fled to the hills, her horse's hooves thumping a rhythm to match the beating of her heart. For hours she rode until the anger and panic was off her. She found herself somewhere in the eastern mountains that bordered the kingdom. She got down off the horse and looked about her. There could be no doubt. She was in the eastern mountains. But how could that be? They were two days ride from the palace. Even the King's couriers couldn't reach the Eastern garrisons in less than 10 hours. Yet by the sun, nought but three hours had passed. She took the book and, sitting with her back against an ancient tree, began to leaf through the pages again. Mythological beasts of all sorts covered its pages but the page that she lingered longest on was the page with the painting of the unicorn. She touched the image of the unicorn in the picture and began to cry. Why had she been the one to get the old woman's message? Why? She had turned down ever s many fine prospects. Why? One of her tears slid down her cheek and landed on the unicorn in the book. The image seemed to shimmer (or, a more prosaic part of her mind added, maybe it was just the tears). She looked again at the image. There was something there, faintly written on the image, something written in the ancient tongue of this land. She, like all royalty, could read the ancient tongue for it was required on the Days of Invocation when the blessing of the ancient powers was invoked anew to protect the kingdom and it's people. Another tear fell from her nose onto the image and the writing became clearer.

Ithgaran ma ni,
Sho aluan abi,
Loh kenith na kol,
ab urik nithaol.

Her rhyme in the ancient tongue. She looked about the glade. This was an ancient part of the forest. The trees stood tall but many were clearly old, far older than any she could remember seeing anywhere near the palace. Some had openings in their trunks large enough to hold a person's head. The ground, too, was strange. Instead of the usual long grass of the region, there was nought but tiny bladelets barely a centimetre in length. Ancient, lichened stones, too, formed a rough pathway to her left. At her feet was the greatest surprise, a complete circle of tall dark green grass with great mushrooms growing from it. She knew of fairy ring mushrooms but they were tiny. These mushrooms were huge, larger than any the cooks used in their dishes. She looked about again. The very air seemed alive, pulsating with energy. 'Was this the time?' her mind supplied. Taking the book again, she read aloud the words in the ancient tongue. She felt a presence behind her in the forest and turned to face it.

"You again honour the old ways?" a voice in her head asked.
"Old ways?" Illyria asked puzzled.
"You are Princess in the realm and you have read the words of summoning."
"I am Princess Ilyria. What words of summoning?"
"Ihgaran ma ni, Sho aluan abi, Loh kenith na kol, ab urik nithaol, " the voice supplied.
"I did read them."
"Do you understand them?"
"I cannot marry until I see and touch a unicorn."

She heard the faint hoof fall of a light horse to her left and turned to face it. There was nothing there. To her right this time, and still nothing there. There were the sounds of hooves all about her, soft hoofbeats but no owners.

"Reveal yourself," she demanded of the forest.
"I shall," the voice replied.

Illyria's eyes widened. A beautiful white horse stepped from the trees on the far side of the fairy circle. Not a horse, though. For it had a beard and a single glowing horn growing from the centre of it's forehead. A unicorn! They did exist!

"We do indeed. I am King in these realms," the voice of the unicorn stated.
"King? But ..."
"We tolerate the two legs for they have oft helped us. Though of late there has been little congress between us. Even the ancient pact to wed the lines has been neglected. You are the first princess in nearly a century to come to honour that ancient pact."
"Pact?" Illyria hated pacts. A pact would have her wed against her will.
"Surely you know the rest of the spell you have spoken?"

Ko gari an maik
Ko alu an trik
Kiana ahl mora
Joa nithaora.

Illyria's mind supplied the translation

By land and by field
By water and sky
Her old life aside
The unicorn's bride.

"And so it must be, if the magical protection is to be renewed," the unicorn looked at Illyria who had gotten partly upright as the unicorn spoke.
"But I cannot be ..."
"The magicks have already started," the voice said calmly.

Illyria felt a tickle at her forehead and moved her hand to brush the supposed bug. She nearly knocked herself out with the blow and staggered back against the tree, her book closed at her side. She drew her hand, more slowly now, to rub the painful lump. A glint of gold caught her eye.

"My hand!" she shrieked.
"You could not be my bride as you are," the unicorn's voice held a hint of amusement.

She brought both hands before her face only to discover that they were now hooves, shining golden hooves, but hooves nonetheless. Her smooth skin was becoming furred as well as white hairs began to sprout. She felt something twist in her feet and watched, wide eyed with surprise, as her toes grew together and her foot lengthened. Soon there was but a single toe on each foot and this soon changed shape and hardened into another golden hoof.

"How?"
"Your father does not believe in the ancient magicks but they exist."
"But?"
"It was ever thus. Your predecessor, Shian, is still well and whole."
"Shian! She's but a ..."
"Legend? But as real as you and I"

The beautiful white fur covered her body now and the pressure of her silk gown on her new fur made Illyria uncomfortable. But she refused to undress before this beast.

"Beast am I?" the unicorn's voice was amused. "You would be much more comfortable without your clothing but the change will take care of it in time regardless."
"But I must not ..."
"Remove clothing before strangers."
"It is ..."
"Such strange modesties. Still, I shall honour it."

The unicorn walked back into the forest and the presence in her mind faded. Even though the unicorn was no longer present, Illyria could feel the changes continuing to occur. Her immediate problem was to remove the dress and tight underclothes. Damn the corset all princess wore as slaves to fashion. How would she unloose the bindings? A lady-in-waiting would always be there to assist.

"Would you like some help?" a clearly female voice behind her asked.
"Who?"
"I am Princess Shian, one of my Lord's many brides."

Illyria looked over a shoulder and realized there was a small herd of unicorn mares behind her.

"How many?"
"Unicorn never die and the pact has been in place for many centuries."

Illyria could see at least twenty. A small voice told her that these were all of the mythical unicorn princesses, the mythical princesses her hard headed father no longer believed in.

"Alas for him, then," Shian shook her equine head. "Now about that help ..."
"I cannot ..."

She felt something nip at the bindings at the top of her bodice and felt the pressure release. The lace bindings were soon being pulled from their eyelets and the dress fell from her body. The petticoats, too, were soon undone and lay in a heap at Illyria's feet. For some reason, she no longer felt any fear only a sense of freedom.

"That is as it should be," an unknown female voice said in her head. Illyria merely nodded.

The changes continued as the sun set. By moonlight, now, Illyria's body continued to change. Ears, neck and legs lengthened. Her breasts, the envy of her sisters who had been much less well endowed, shrank until they were flush with her chest. Her chest and body increased in size until she was more unicorn than woman. She once again felt the presence of the Unicorn King.

"Are you ready now?"
"I can still speak?"
"The final part of the spell only I can cast," his kind voice said.

Illyria merely nodded. The unicorn stepped careful up to the horse with a woman's face that Illyria had become. His soft warm muzzle reached towards her cheek and he gave her the equine equivalent of a kiss. Illyria felt her face change, stretching out into a muzzle. She watched, unconcerned as her blonde hair fell in clumps to the ground at her feet. Her vision widened until she could see everything around her at once. It was confusing at first but soon seemed as though it had always been.

"I am ready my Lord," Illyria knew the meaning now of the poem. Hers was not a few score years as the bride of a mortal prince. Hers was the eternal marriage, the marriage to the King of the Unicorn.

The trackers found the site ten days later. They were flabbergasted at how she had managed to get to the place for it required traversing many dangerous defiles and crossing the dangerous loose stones of the scree slopes at the base of the mountains. They marveled at how she'd managed to stay on horseback the entire ride. They themselves had had to dismount many times to climb steep unstable slopes. They would have missed the entrance to the pass entirely had not a tracking dog caught her scent again. That this was the last place the Princess Illyria had been was obvious, her clothing, somewhat tattered and soiled still lay at the base of the tree. Her favorite book, too, lay closed at the base of the tree. Oddly though, they found no fairy ring or any indication of one. Gathering up her belongings, they packed for the dangerous journey back to the palace. There they presented their report, the soiled clothing and the book to the King.

"Unicorns! Why Unicorns?"
"But my Lord!," one of the men protested.
"They exist nowhere but in superstition and useless tomes such as this one!"

He slid everything to the floor in his anger. The tome opened, perhaps by accident perhaps by design, to the pages on unicorns. The King looked down at the legend of the Unicorn Princess and his breath caught. He too had loved the book as a child and could still remember its contents well. The ancient image, showing Princess Shian being transformed into a unicorn, had changed. Shian had had dark hair and been slender of build. The blonde princess that graced the page was not the image he remembered. He paused in his tirade. She was familiar. Too familiar. He bent to pick the tome from where he in his anger had pushed it. At first in disbelief and then in understanding, he read and reread the legend. Everywhere that Shian's name had appeared in the story, a new name was now inscribed "Illyria". Of the old name, nothing remained. It was as if the book had been written anew, as if Shian had never been part of the story. The pact, that pact he had not believed existed save in legend, was once more in force.

But that did not save him from his current situation. When Illyria failed to materialize to marry the prince of Ghaleria, King Rhidarian took it as a personal affront and set his armies in motion. King Jilliak knew it was a lost cause. What were his five thousand men against the fifty thousand strong army of Ghaleria? He debated immediate surrender when the army reached the eastern passes. At least his people would be spared the ravages of the war he was sure to lose. He gathered the such forces as he could muster and headed to meet his doom. Three days later, we was met by a courier from the Eastern Garrison.

"My Lord! My Lord! Great News!" he panted as he ran up to the king.
"What news?" King Jilliak frowned.
"The enemy," the man panted. The King waited. "They are no more."
"How?"
"A great land slide and water. They are all dead. Rhidarian, his royal court, his generals and all but one of his sons. A miracle, my Lord. A miracle."
"A miracle," repeated King Jilliak.

He thought of the tome and the defence promised by the magical realms in that ancient pact. The pact now renewed by the marriage of his daughter to the King of the Unicorn. He thought of the pact he'd tried to forge with the unwilling marriage of Illyria to that Ghalerian swine. He had the better pact now. Ghaleria was no longer a threat to anyone. His lands were secure again. Guarded by magic, the magic of the unicorn.