The Archer's Hollow

Chapter 3 The Cavern

Dark eyes, full of fear, gazed at her. A single horn—shimmering in the glow—extended from the unicorn's head. Siri stared, mesmerized by its beauty. She drew in a slow breath speculating how lethal the horn was and if she would end up spitted there. Perhaps she could distract it.

"What are you seeking?" She asked the mythical creature.

Rearing and pawing the air, the unicorn's shrill whinny reverberated off the damp walls. Its hooves crashed down and in one smooth motion it turned and darted away.

"Wait!" she called. Fire shot through every sinew as she followed. Her clanking shackles added to the ruckus and slowed her pace. The unicorn turned and sparks flew at her from its horn. She danced out of the way but another blast hit her chain and ricocheted.

The bright flash momentarily blinded her and she choked on the acrid odors that filled the air around her. Her fingers rubbed at her eyes and she listened to the retreating noise of the apparition. As her vision cleared she saw the unicorn disappear into the rear of the cave.

Moving slowly, she lowered herself to a sitting position. Chains sang their rough metal song as her feet dragged over them. The action renewed the oozing of her wounds. She reached down to massage her throbbing ankles. Nothing but sore, sticky-wet flesh met her fingers. Her eyebrows slowly rose in disbelief. First the unicorn, now this. It all had to be a dream.

Pale light glinted off the open cuffs lying on the ground. The irons that had imprisoned her lay in broken pieces scattered by the unicorn's powerful shot. Siri sat for several minutes as her mind tried to understand the impossibility of what had happened. None of it made any sense. Perhaps nourishment would drive away the mind fog that blanketed her rational thinking.

Her pouch held one last piece of flatbread. It wouldn't fill her belly for long, but she had no other choice. After retrieving the bread, she soaked it in a nearby puddle, softening it enough to easily eat. The faint taste of minerals concerned her and she hoped it wouldn't make her sick, or worse, kill her. Munching on a chewy bite she pulled out the inner lining of the sack and reached into the pouch again.

One thing remained—a perfectly round, flat stone with a tiny spiral trail curling around the edge until it reached the center. It was hidden away inside a simple linen scrap and attached to the cord Daroth had used to hang it around his neck.

Siri had stolen it from him the night before her escape. The first part of her plan was complete. The second was to find a place called Thelves and return it to the king. Her vow to her mother would then be accomplished.

Her mother. Staring at the object lying in her palm dredged up painful memories of the last time she had seen her mother alive.

Six years ago, Siri had stepped inside the room where her mother lay, barely able to move or speak. Pain in her heart intensified with the realization her mother's health worsened daily. The healing herbs from her garden made no difference.

From her deathbed, her mother's finger lifted, motioning for Siri to come closer. With a sudden burst of energy she gripped Siri's tunic and vehemently insisted Siri swear an oath to her. An oath to get the amulet from Daroth, her mother's husband, and take it north to the King of Thelves. Hoping to help her mother recover she had sworn to do it.

The promise had not saved her mother.

Getting the amulet had proven more difficult than she anticipated. Daroth had worn it on a thin leather cord around his neck and guarded it with the vigilance of a greedy man protecting a hoard of gold. It had taken her the six years since her mother's death and one night of celebration to obtain it. She hadn't known until the following afternoon, that her betrothal to the Malku'u chief had caused all the merriment. A fate she had narrowly escaped that evening, which seemed an eternity ago, but as she thought about it, she realized only a couple of days had passed.