Stomp expected people on the street to object to the kidnapping. Surely someone would questions their captors, maybe call the guards over to make the two unicorns explain why they were towing a ball of light with four people inside.
No one did. People looked, certainly, but every one of them kept well out of the way without so much as eye contact with the unicorns.
After some honest thought, Stomp had to admit that she wouldn’t dare start trouble with them either. On purpose, anyway. Twig had brought this trouble down on their heads despite Stomp and Beak’s best efforts.
The pixie was quiet now, thankfully. No one wanted to hear more optimistic jabbering about how this was a really benevolent abduction. Beak and Windmane were silent too, leaving Stomp to wonder where the group was being taken, and what horrible things were likely to happen there.
A hotel, Stomp thought when she saw it. A fancy one. I think. The building was as high-class as would be expected in this part of town, with magical enhancements on everything from the shifting paint to the garden of illusory plants atop the flat roof. The fact that the building complex was single-story surprised Stomp, given her scant knowledge of most human hotels. But it was sprawling and well-kept, clearly meant for elite guests.
The guards at the gate said nothing to the unicorns. The attendant who opened the doors was the same, as were the people at the front desk, and the handful of other servant-types that they passed on their way through the complex. No one was about to offend such important guests, even when they were hauling people away in a blatantly illegal manner.
It is illegal here, right? I mean, I assume. Human laws are weird.
When the unicorns approached the door to their suite, the pixie attendants rushed ahead to open it for them. The unicorns strutted in with all the ego in the world. The ball of captives floated behind them. Stomp had a burst of worry that she should have kicked up a fuss earlier, no matter what Twig said, but it was too late now. The door shut with a click.
The suite was all open space and pale colors, with carpet that wouldn’t dare show dirt, and windows open to a garden view. Cushioned sleep-nests were gathered in a far corner, with equally cushioned pixie perches along the walls. Small tables were scattered about with bowls of fruit and miniature fountains. The large wardrobe set out of the way had a discreet door on the side, so pixies could enter for digging through luggage out of sight. Clearly a setup made for these guests specifically.
The glowball settled in the middle of the room, dimming until Stomp could feel carpet under her feet and barely detect the magic. She still couldn’t move from the spot, though. And Twig was in front. Not ideal.
The unicorn with the sparkly fangs stepped forward. =My pixies tell me,= she said without moving, =That you aren’t truly human.=
“That’s right!” Twig replied. “I’m a—”
Beak spoke over him. “Twig! For once in your life, let someone else talk!”
The pixie fell silent.
The unicorn tilted her head in amusement. =No need for that,= she chided. =Let the boy talk.=
“Hey, I’m an adult!” Twig said.
“Do NOT talk!” Beak shouted. “Not ‘til we know we can trust them!”
=Careful,= the unicorn purred, her mental voice taking an edge. =One might take offense at that.=
That was a line Stomp had heard before, spoken by more than one dangerous bull. “Beak,” Stomp whispered fiercely. “Let me talk to them.”
The harpy exhaled. “Fine. Twig, shut up.”
Twig made an unhappy noise, but said nothing. Windmane was a silent and stressed presence to the side. Both unicorns were watching, and so were the many pixies dancing above.
“Apologies for all our sakes,” Stomp said to the lead unicorn, keeping her tone submissive. “I’m sure your reasons are excellent; we’re just not privy to them.”
The unicorn ignored the implied question. =Tell us of the magicians who cast the spell to change your species.=
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Stomp hesitated. Was that a question that a friend of those mages would ask, or an enemy? Or something else? Impossible to be sure. Better take a neutral approach. And there was no point in denying it.
“We have never met them,” she said, “Not that I know, at any rate. This was done from a distance, by surprise.”
The unicorn flicked her shimmering ears in distaste. =Unwilling.=
“Yes.” Stomp left it at that. Both unicorns looked angry, though they masked it with poise.
=Do you have any other knowledge of them?=
“Nothing concrete, I’m afraid,” Stomp said. “Just educated guesses that they are likely to be among this kingdom’s elite. We thought we knew more, but it turned out to be lies.”
At the unicorn’s insistence, Stomp explained about the two humans who had activated the spell, and the other who had told them to find the casters on the gorgon island. She shared the false names and the possibly-real ones suggested by the gorgons.
She didn’t mention Razorscale or Silver. Maybe the unicorns wouldn’t ask about the “five” mages that Twig had mentioned. This was still an unknown situation, and any element of surprise could save their skins later.
=Does anyone else know about this spell?= the unicorn asked.
“No one that we’ve met seems to know how it works,” Stomp said slowly. “But many people know that it happened.”
=Did you tell them?= the unicorn accused, pointing with her horn.
Stomp raised her hands placatingly. “It happened at a public place,” she said. “The Dryad Forest Festival. Many people saw.”
The unicorn tossed her head in irritation, turning toward her companion. The companion grimaced with his own smaller fangs and said, =That’s too many witnesses to eliminate.=
Stomp’s heart rate sped up. She tried not to show it. That bit of telepathy could have been private, but instead the unicorn chose to let the whole room hear. Intimidation tactics. Can’t show fear.
The other captives had their own thought processes, and all three of them objected out loud.
“What do you mean, eliminate?” demanded Windmane.
“Are you on their side?” Beak asked.
Twig wailed, “I thought you were going to help us!”
Beak muttered, “Told you so.”
Stomp tried to whisper calming words. No one was listening.
=Help you?= the lead unicorn asked as she stepped closed. =No, you will be helping US to track down the blasphemers who stole a spell core from us.=
Beak snapped at her. “It was your spellwork? Well, thanks for that!”
Moving against the magic’s resistance, Stomp got a hand over Beak’s mouth and shushed her loudly. “Let me talk!” she hissed.
When the harpy held her silence, Stomp turned to face the unicorn who was glowering at the captives.
“I apologize again,” she said. “We sympathize with your loss, and will be happy to aid you in bringing about justice. Our own goals are similar.”
The second unicorn spoke up at that. =Are they?= he asked. =Are you not looking for a way to keep blaspheming on your own?=
Stomp had to shake her head at that. “Pardon?”
The unicorn spoke slowly, with obvious scorn. =Changing one’s shape is disgusting, distasteful, and unclean. We know all about you outsiders and your love for it.=
Stomp spread her hands. “None of us have a love for it. We want to be as we were before, with no further changes. This is massively unpleasant for us. If I’m stuck like this, my herd might leave me behind, and I wouldn’t blame them. And she—” Stomp pointed at Windmane, who didn’t disappoint.
“I can’t WALK!”
“…She can’t walk. We just want to go back to normal.”
The unicorns considered that in silence, probably talking privately. Before they finished, Twig spoke up.
“If you hate it so much, why did you have a spell core for it?”
Stomp grabbed for his arm while the pair of unicorns grew visibly darker with crackles of angry magic. The pixies all moved toward the walls, which made Stomp even more concerned.
“I’m sorry about him!” she said desperately. “He didn’t mean any offense; he’s an imbecile!”
The lead unicorn’s voice reverberated in her head. =Our spell core was for communication,= she said with audible fury. =A way to connect consciousnesses. Human magicians have perverted it, added their own workings and turned it into something vile.=
“I’m so sorry,” Stomp said. “They have done you a great wrong.”
=They will suffer for it.=
“As they should. How can we help?”
Beak spoke up. “And no killing us. Who knows what that would do to the spell?”
The unicorns ignored her, to Stomp’s relief. Maybe they had already considered that, or maybe they just wanted to look like they had.
=The culprits will almost certainly be planning to use their blasphemous new ability to show off at the competition,= the leader said. =They will be infinitely harder to bring to justice if they win the throne. Since you cannot name them with certainty, maybe you can be bait for us.=
Windmane squeaked, “Bait?”
“Or,” Stomp said, revising her earlier thoughts, “We can see if the fifth of us has located any of them yet. That’s what we were doing when you found us.”
=From a table in the dark?= asked the male unicorn.
=Ah,= said the leader. =The one with invisibility magic. I wondered about that.=
Stomp didn’t ask how she knew. “Yes, that was him. He was confident that he could spot the one who hexed him personally, and possibly the others as well.”
Before anyone could broach the subject of how to find Razorscale, a knock sounded at the door. As if someone had been eavesdropping and waiting for just the right moment. Stomp thought that these quarters should have excellent sound insulation, but with this much magic flying around, she wasn’t certain of anything now.
A cadre of pixies separated to answer the door while the unicorns simply turned where they stood. The glowball of captivity was far enough toward the sleep-nests that Stomp couldn’t see who waited in the hall. She saw pixies chatter, zipping over to whisper in the lead unicorn’s ear.
The unicorn laughed. =An apparently-human mage on a restricted transportation method, with a very illegal companion,= she repeated. =How fascinating. Do come in.=