The two women ride out towards the spring borne by Slate's capable hooves. While Bernice is still upset over the reaction of the animals to her, Rae is in excellent spirits. She feels as though her long quest may soon be at an end, and hope exudes from her. The compass dangles from her hand, held by the locket in accordance with Islington's directions. About a third of a mile from their destination, Rae gasps. "Miss Townes!" she whispers urgently, holding up the Compass. It's come alive, rings swiveling around in different directions before it settles with all of them pointing northwest -- a different direction from the spring.
It's difficult not to find Rae's mood at least a little contaigous, and when the Compass reacts Bernice shares the other woman's excitement. "Northwest, away from the spring? Perhaps she's finished drinking already. Let's see what's there! I'll look for signs of her passing."
Rae nods eagerly, and Slate picks her way between trees and over undergrowth nimbly. The Morgan horse moves as quietly as she can given the terrain. Bernice guides her mount carefully, keeping one eye on the Compass and adjusting course as the unicorn's position changes. Unlike when they tracked St. John, the unicorn isn't staying obligingly in the same spot.
Bernice picks out the easiest path she can in the brush, not necessarily heading in a straight line, but rather accounting for the lay of the land and trying to find the best way to intercept their quarry rather than pursue her. Her gaze flicks back and forth between the Compass that Rae is dangling, and the forest ahead, taking care to keep Slate's path safe for her.
It's hard to work at so many tasks at once, and at one point Slate misses her footing and stumbles, catching her hoof against a root. While Bernice dismounts to disentangle her hoof, the Compass goes quiscient. Rae gives a cry of dismay, and jumps down herself to run ahead on foot, turning this way and that as she looks for the unicorn's presence again. She calls out something in Norwegian.
The doctor carefully steers Slate's hoof out of the tangle, helping set it on firm ground again, but her focus is divided, inwardly despairing again. So close, only to lose her again? No... Bernice remains on foot now, hurrying after the other woman and keeping her head low now, hoping a closer look at her surroundings might show her signs of passing that she missed.
Rae is hurrying on ahead, her feet crashing through the forest with no attempt at stealth. Either she's found the unicorn's trail again, or she's gone hysterical with desperation. Bernice doesn't see any sign of the unicorn, but given the way the Compass works, it's quite possible the unicorn hasn't actually been this way. Slate follows after them. The undergrowth is soon denser, tearing at Bernice's skirts and tattering Rae's. The blond woman's coiffed hair is caught by branches and pulled half-undone. She's breathless in her headlong flight, but she doesn't slow down.
For at least ten minutes, the chase continues. Then, suddenly, Rae stops. Bernice had caught up to her by then -- Rae is in good condition, but she's not the robust woodsman that Bernice is -- and nearly stumbles into her. Rae's holding the compass out with a puzzled look. It's pointing backwards. The way they came.
Skidding to a stop, the doctor stares at the compass for a moment. "Queer... but no time to puzzle it out," she pants. "Back we go!"
At Bernice's encouragment, Rae gives a panting nod and runs after her. They're both heading for Slate, who's been following at more of a distance. As they run to her, Bernice sees that the horse is standing still. Slate gives a little shake of her head. The Compass swivels wildly in Rae's hand, and Rae stumbles to a halt again, waiting to see what direction it settles in.
She's here, Slate says.
Bernice stops short, putting her hands on her knees and catching her breath. Noticing Slate stop, she stands upright again. "Rae, wait... watch, look, and listen..."
Rae draws in a breath, holds it. She looks around. The compass is pointing to the peeling white bark of a few ash trees off to their left. The black lines where the bark has peeled away are stark against the pure silvery white of what remains. They're like the outline of another shape ...
The doctor starts to take a step closer, but stops. As important as it is to her, this is Rae's quest. She looks at the other woman, holding out her hands to whisk her forward with quiet gestures.
Rae swallows. She puts the compass down without looking at it, her eyes still before her. The tangle of rings and chain rocks onto its side, still pointing at the trees. Rae holds out her hand, and says a single Norwegian word.
From the black outlines and the white of the ash bark, the Unicorn emerges.
Bernice stands quietly by her equine friend, looking on and listening intently.
She takes a slow step forward, her mane snowy and billowing around her neck, her fetlocks covered in equally long, soft fur. Her horn is straight and smooth, silver-white like a sword's edge. Each hoof is cloven; she has the body of a horse but the slim build of a deer; the unicorn doesn't look like she'd have even half Slate's mass, though she's not much shorter. On silent hooves, she closes the distance to Rae. Bernice half-catches something, as if the unicorn were speaking but in words she cannot understand. Tears spill down Rae's cheeks, and the blond woman stretches her arm out, fingers trembling, the rest of her body frozen. She repeats the same Norwegian word.
The unicorn touches her delicate muzzle to Rae's fingers, then closes the remaining distance until her chest touches the woman's. She drops her head to brush her cheek against Rae's. The woman embraces her, crying and whispering in Norwegian.
Not even Bernice's affinity can pick out meaning from the exchange, but the intensity of their emotion isn't lost on the doctor. Though she aches to understand, there is at least some satisfaction in seeing Rae's fulfillment. She waits and observes patiently, barely daring to breathe, much less move.
The unicorn's eyes close as Rae whispers to her. She remains mostly still, brushing her muzzle against the nape of the woman's neck, for several minutes. At length, Rae calms again, drying her tears against the unicorn's neck. Slate circles around the two, very slowly and cautiously, to stand beside her own human.
The unicorn raises her head and opens eyes of reflective silver to look to Bernice and Slate. You are here for the Game, she says.
If she hadn't been frozen before, Bernice goes rigid now, awestruck by the creature's unearthly beauty. She realizes she's been addressed, and hesitates, feeling almost guilty to give her answer. "Y-yes.. I guess I am. I mean, I am."
Equine mouths don't smile, but Bernice feels like the unicorn is smiling at her now. I am here because of the Game. You have a question for me. Ask it.
Encouraged, the woman clasps her hands together. "I... I want to know if I'm doing the right thing. My people, we're attuned to the spirits of this world, like the Silent Wood, or even the Hill. We fear that Opening will endanger them, but I met a woman who believes their decline is because we keep Closing. Please... can you tell us what lies in wait?"
The unicorn shakes her head, her mane tossing to the other side. What lies in wait is up to you. Rae is still resting against her, and the woman's blue eyes are wide as she listens to the unicorn and Bernice speak. Bernice is struck by the similarity of their appearance: both slim, pale, ethereal, beautiful. The unicorn watches Bernice with eyes bright as mirrors. But I will give you Truth, Bernice Townes.
There are no spirits of this world.
The doctor is stunned, rooted to the spot. "N.. they... none of them are of this world? They all... but our world needs them, doesn't it?"
Your world is brilliant and beautiful, Bernice Townes. Intricate and precious, from the algae in the streams to the oaks of the forest, from the mice of the fields to the humans in their strange and wonderous and terrifying cities. So much variety. So many interlocking things. So amazing. The unicorn lifts her head, her silver eyes unfocused as if to take it all in.
But the spirits that you know are not born of this Earth. We are interlopers. All of us. Myself, the white hart, the Hill, the falcon. The little fish that leaps in the stream. The spark inside you that lets you understand me, the spark in Rae Mikkelsen that reaches for me, all of these things, are not of your Earth. We have existed here for tens of thousands of years. We have spread across the land, splintered to a billion pieces, forgotten what we are and where we came from. Dwindled. Diminished. We are dwindling yet. We will diminish further still. We are not of this world. Eventually, we will splinter so much, fragment so small, that we become nothing at all, the unicorn says, gravely.
Rae whispers, "No!" She clutches at the unicorn's neck, her hands bunching in the soft mane. Slate takes a pace back, an alarmed whicker echoing Rae's sentiment.
Bernice touches her chest, almost looking stricken, as if to feel that piece within her, her own green eyes becoming distant as well. "But... why? Are they... are WE out of place? The Still Forest and the Hill, they've forgotten, but you remember. You must have come at the very beginning."
Yes, the unicorn says, nuzzling Rae's shoulder. I was here at the beginning. We were all here at the beginning. But only I and Alorn remember. All the rest have faded too much, like the spark in you, Bernice Townes. You have always been here. Listen to yourself now, my kith, my kin, daughter of my daughters. Listen to that part of you that was born not twenty-four years ago, but a hundred thousand, on another world. Do you hear it? Do you feel it?
Townes nods slowly, numbly. "I... I suppose I always have. When I would wake at night, and have to go out to look at the moon. When I could never be comfortable around other people, other... humans. When I would sit under the trees and hum with them, speak with them." She looks up at the trees now, these ones silent. "Alorn is another... like you?"
I led us here, little ones, the unicorn says, lowering her head. Sunlight reflects in beam from the side of her silver horn. Alorn and I and the others -- She names five more, with words Bernice can't quite catch in her mind. -- who've dwindled now, trapped themselves in the things of this Earth. The prisons of flesh or stone or wood that destroy us by inches but that we need to survive. We led you here in the first Game, Bernice Townes. We led you here by the hundreds of thousands, in the first Game which was Played not on this Earth, but on the Other Side. Something inside Bernice shivers at those words. Do you remember it, my little one?
Feeling that twinge, Bernice nods at first, but hesitates. "Yes... and no. Something inside me feels it, yearns maybe... but everything that I know is here. It confuses me. I want to know more."
Your birthplace is a world of nightmares and horror, of unspeakable terrors, the unicorn says. It is as terrible as your worst fears. There are two kinds of life there, two kinds of spirits. Call them Masters and Slaves. All the power is held by the Masters. At a thought, they can do whatever they want with the Slaves. This is not like Earthly power, wielded with guns or pieces of paper. It is a Power of being. The way a man has power over an ant. More so. Much more so.
Masters could be kind with their power, but they rarely chose to. They squabble like toddlers amongst themselves, played with the fabric of Slaves as if they were toys, to be used, abused, ignored, at whim. You were of the Slaves. Alorn and I were of the Masters, but we despised the way the others treated Slaves. So did a few others. We wanted a better life for you. A better world. We found this one. We started the Game. We opened the way, and we led the Slaves through and left the Masters behind.
Rae is listening in stunned disbelief, all too much for her to comprehend. But the unicorn goes on, relentless. Ever since, the Masters have been striving to recapture their lost Slaves. If the Portal Opens again, they will come through. They will hold it Open this time. They will not just take the Slaves back; they will take this world, your world, the world of your flesh if not that spark in you, Bernice Townes. They will try to make it into the place of nightmares, of Masters and Slaves that their own world is.
Bernice's tanned skin pales slightly, a shudder running through her body. "Then the Game was to arbitrate between us whether to allow the Masters in and try to resist them, or die out in peace? But they're so powerful... we wouldn't stand a chance." A thought strikes her, and she leans forward a little. "Mankind isn't beholden to them. Would they be able to resist?"
I cannot read the future. But understand that when were of their world, we were no match for their power, not all of us combined. And that spark in you that had been a Slave once -- when it first came to this world. it had the power to make trees walk, to stop rivers. Now that spark can only let you understand when spirits speak to you, and you are reckoned a power for that. When I came to this world, I had the power to make volcanos erupt. Now I do well to purify a stream. We thought is would be a haven for us. And it is ... in a way. But it is a deadly haven, safety at the price of existance itself, the unicorn says, her voice soft and inexorable. If the Portal Closes, the world will be safe. And we will continue to dwindle and splinter here, into these tiny shards and fragments, these echoes of what we once were, until there's nothing left of us.
The woman, young, yet thousands of years old, drops to her knees, and holds her face in her hands. "Weaker than ever... do we have any right to endanger this world that we came to? We came for ourselves, and we ... I like to think we contributed to it, made it richer. When the druids found me, the years that followed were the happiest of my life. But now..."
Townes finds tears seeping between her fingers, and she realizes her face is hot with them, their sting familiar.
The aura of terror that's hung over the unicorn dwindles, as if she were shrinking back into herself. Rae drops to her knees beside Bernice, taking her hands in her own and gripping them. "It iss not you. It iss not just me, or the unicorn. These sparks ... they are in all of us, are they not? You say billions?" She looks to the unicorn, who nods in answer. "A little bit of this other world in all of us, then?"
In most humans. Yes. Some more than others. We are all over the world. In trees and hills and springs and animals and men. Everywhere, now. Splinters. Fragments, the unicorn answers.
"Then if ve fight, ve fight for part of ourselves. And if ve hide, ve deny that part of ourselves," Rae says. "Ve doom that part uv us."
And if you fight, and lose, then all of you are doomed. The children of my world and the children of Earth. Everything. The unicorn hangs her head in defeat.
Bernice's hands come away from her face as Rae takes them, still wet, and she hiccups once, then holds it down. "It's true, Rae... for better or for worse, whether the spirits began here or not, they've become a part of this place and of many people. It comes down to whether the sum of what we are is greater than the power of what lies on the Other Side. We aren't only risking ourselves, those of us who know, but what must be millions of people and even spirits that aren't aware of what may soon befall them."
I came to tell you to Close, Bernice Townes. Your Earth is too precious to risk to the Masters. Let us die. Let us fade, and forget, and disappear from the world. We have had tens of thousands of years of life on this Earth. It is more than your human side is given. Let it be enough for us, the unicorn whispers. Let the Portal Close, and be safe and content with the world as it was meant to be. Empty of us interlopers, intruders.
"No!" Rae stands, still holding Bernice's hands tightly in her own. "No! I haf spent all of my life looking vor you! I do not come to see you die! You belong vit us now! This spark, if it iss the only immortal thing in me, if it is my soul I vill not see it die to keep my flesh safe. I vill fight vor it. I vill play this Game, if it is the only vay. I vill OPEN."
Townes simply rests there on her knees, looking down at the loamy soil and leaves. She startles at the outburst from Rae, and is drawn to her feet with her, hands still clasped together. "But... but Rae, you..." That hiccup again. Bernice fights the sting at her eyes, and pulls the other woman closer by where their hands are linked so she can rest her chin on Rae's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rae. It was never our flesh to begin with. And if we let these Masters through, it won't be any more ours than if we Closed... it'll be theirs. She's right. She and Alorn came through to make a choice between an eternal life of torment, or a finite life of joy."
The unicorn stares at Rae. You don't understand what you're saying, child. You don't remember ... She trails off, and says to Bernice, We didn't know at the time. We thought we were coming to a world like our own, but without Masters. We did not know what it would be like to exist here. Or that it would ultimately destroy us. Had I known ... yes, I would have done the same. But some of us did not think it worth the price. Alorn would have chosen otherwise.
"Don't I?" Rae throws back at the unicorn. "I am one person! I am not torn betveen this vorld and some other. My spark is me. Vat vould I be vitout it? I do not know. I do not vant to know. If it is the part that goes on ven my flesh is gone, then I vant it to go on, not vade into nothink. How long does it take to belong to a place? You are an American, are you not, Miss Townes? And yet your people haf only been uf this land a few hundret years. Our souls haf been vit us for tens of thousands! They are ours now. They belong here. They deserf life as much as ve do. They deserf a chance."
Bernice pauses to consider this, her expression torn. A certain part of her wants desperately to agree. "I would know... what prevents the Masters from Opening the way here again? Are they simply unaware of this world for now?"
They are bound by the timing, as you are. They are readying for the Game, even now. It is because of their efforts that the Portal happens at all. It is because of the Closers that it has not Opened yet, the unicorn answers Bernice. To Rae, she says gently, You cannot join the Game now, my daughter. It is too late in the month, and you have no Companion.
"Then you vill be my Companion!" Rae half-turns to the unicorn, holding Bernice's hand in her left and taking the unicorn's muzzle in her right. "I vill not let you be destroyed. Do you hear me? I vill not!"
The unicorn blinks mirror-silver eyes at Rae, her ears going back, stunned.
Bernice's blood runs cold. "They know of us... they're trying to get to us? The hounds, they..." It seemed so long ago, but only a month or so since Bernice and Slate fled with the Huntsman's pack on their heels. "They said everything would belong to them." Shaking that thought from her mind, she leans forward earnestly again. "What does Alorn think? Is he.. she... where is Alorn now?"
The unicorn looks over her shoulder. The silver shaft of her horn points to the Hill. He is bound, now. Because of you.
Slate lowers her head to nuzzle Bernice's shoulder, and murmur, Alorn was the white hart. Slate seems overwhelmed by everything. Too much to take in. Is there a spirit in me, too? she asks the unicorn.
The unicorn nods. It is your spirit that makes you so much more intelligent than an ordinary horse.
The doctor nods slowly, not realizing she's giving Rae's hands a squeeze, taking comfort in the contact. Though she asked, she had already suspected. "He and St. John would have cleared away humanity and made this place their own. Now the Hill holds them. I was going to go there and try to free them, but I'm not sure that I dare now. The person I talked to, she thinks that this Game may be the last, that the way may not Open again after this. Because the last Game seemed to happen strangely. Is this true?"
Another nod from the unicorn. Yes.
Rae gasps again. "Then this iss the last chance? Then ve must Open it. There iss no other choice." She squeezes Bernice's hand in return, running her other hand up the unicorn's cheek and twining her fingers into the snowy mane.
"Alorn seemed to think there must have been a chance," ventures Bernice. "His companion sought a staff that the druids protected. The Still Forest feared it, and warned me against using it. What are these artifacts? How did they come to be?"
Those are the other Master spirits, like myself and Alorn. The ones who bound themselves into things instead of to flesh. There are weaknesses in that, just as there are weaknesses in the flesh, and they dwindled like we dwindled. They are potent in their own ways, but soem of them ... very alien to you. Spending forty thousand years in a piece of wood affects what you are, the unicorn says.
Bernice's verdant eyes widen in shock. "So that's how their power contributes to Opening or Closing! It makes sense now. And I understand now as well why the Beast was remembered as a Closer all this time. Alorn agreed with you up until this game." A look of sadness crosses her face. "Her own druids couldn't have imagined why this sudden change of heart would happen."
The unicorn looks puzzled. No, she was an Opener at the last Game, as well. Alorn had already decided what he wanted to do. He found St. John and used her hatred of her own kind to convince her to Open.
"Girard's notes must have been wrong," muses Bernice. She sighs heavily, gazing upon the unicorn again. "Though the situation is dire, I feel better for knowing more about all this. We have some time to consider what to do. Thank you." She pauses, remembering something. "The other Closers still don't know where the Banefire is to be, or how they'll be able to power the Closing. What should I tell them?"
I do not know where the Banefire will be, either. I am not a calculator, the unicorn answers. Her head is still in Rae's hand. I cannot make your decisions for you. But if you have the will to Close, the chance is there.
"Then ve vill find out," Rae says, determined. "You vill not still Close, vill you, Miss Townes? Surely you see? It must be Opened," she says, pleading, looking into Bernice's eyes.
The other woman is hard pressed to meet Rae's eyes, and reluctantly she says, "I will speak with the others. It won't be up to me alone. I'd reckon even the Openers may wish to know this." She looks up, and hesitantly reaches out toward the unicorn with her free hand, looking askance to touch. "I only hope we may return for guidance again... may we know your name, mother to us?"
The unicorn gives them her name, and it's a lovely, musical thing that Bernice finds hard to hold in her mind. It's like a foreign language that keeps slipping away when she tries to hang onto it. But Rae Mikkelsen calls me Kari, the unicorn adds. You may wish to use that.
Rae blushes. "And you vill not hide from me again?" she asks.
I will not hide from you again, daughter of my daughter. The unicorn tosses her head, nuzzles at Rae's cheek.
Bernice gently lays fingertips on the unicorn's shining coat, if just to touch for a moment. "Thank you. We'll learn more. Maybe even a way to survive here on our own. We'd best go, Rae. It'll be dark soon, and the others will want to hear from us. No doubt you have a lot to tell Gustav."
"... All right." Rae's hand lingers in the unicorn's mane, then strokes down her neck. She says something else in Norwegian; the one word Bernice catches is 'Kari'. The unicorn bows her head.
Then she's gone.
Rae sighs, softly. She kneels to retrieve the Compass, rises and looks to Bernice. "She is real."
From crying to embracing and back again, Bernice is left drained and all the more worried, but with a certain satisfaction, a certain sense of fulfillment. She moves to wrap Rae in a sisterly hug, for in a way, that's what they are. With a sigh, the doctor echoes, "She is real."