Skull Gate by Robin W Bailey Read Free Book Online Page A

grass or whatever he pleased.
    â€œDo you call him?” Oona asked from the doorway.
    Frost looked out toward the clustered silhouettes of hills. They rose, unevenly breaking the starry skyline. “No need,” she answered. “He knows I need him now."
    The sound of hooves followed her words, a racing clip-clop in the night. “Look for his eyes,” she said to Oona.
    Two points of flame, small and far away, appeared in the direction of the hills. The thunder of hooves swelled on the breeze. The flames drew nearer, nearer, the thunder louder. The earth trembled faintly beneath their feet.
    â€œI see him!” Oona gasped.
    The flames danced furiously, part of the black shape that sped toward them. Frost smiled at the note in the old woman's voice. “Ashur,” she whispered, half in awe herself.
    The unicorn stopped its headlong rush several safe paces away, kicking up dust, came forward, and nuzzled Frost's hand. The long spike on its brow slid past her arm. The twin fires that served him for eyes cast pools of light about them, yet gave off no heat.
    Oona crept closer, passed her hand near one of the flames, then through it. She stared at her palm. “When I saw him that first time you came,” she said, “I thought I'd gone mad. What is he, child?"
    â€œMagic,” she answered simply, making no effort to hide the near rapture she felt when she and Ashur were together. “More than that, I don't need or want to know.” She gathered her skirts over one arm and leaped onto the unicorn's broad back.
    â€œNo saddle?” said Oona.
    â€œNot this time,” she answered, and dropped her skirts. They spilled all around her and hung down Ashur's flanks. She grasped the thick and lustrous mane. “I'm not taking him into Kord'Ala. He can wander the hills while I do my work."
    â€œYou may need to depart quickly,” Oona cautioned.
    â€œHe'll be near if I need him,” Frost assured her. “I should return tonight or early tomorrow."
    She waved to Oona and sped off toward Kord'Ala. Before the eastern sky flushed pink with the sun's dawning, she slid from Ashur's back, sent the unicorn away, and squatted in the dusty road to wait. At sunrise the gates of the city opened wide. She rose, brushed her skirts and pulled her long hair close about her face, then started inside. A pair of guards quietly watched her approach. She said nothing but gave each a hard, haughty look, making sure they saw the crescent charcoal marking she wore.
    â€œFortune, sir?” she said to one.
    He spat and took a step away.
    â€œYou?” she asked the other.
    He shook his head.
    She looked inquiringly at each once more, then laughed and left them, swirling her skirts.
    Â 
    Oona trudged through the door, bent and weary. On her arm she carried a basket filled with jars and bits of dried herbs. A bit of cloth tied around her head kept the hair from falling in her eyes. She closed the door softly. Her feet scraped the old wood as she shuffled across the floor and set her basket in a corner. She sighed audibly and straightened, massaging a hip with one hand.
    â€œOona?"
    The old woman jumped at the sound of her name and turned. Her wide eyes shone in the darkness. “Samidar?"
    Frost lifted the earthen jar with which she'd hidden the small candlelight and leaned back in her seat at the table. “I got back hours ago. Where've you been?"
    Oona took a seat opposite her and leaned on elbows. Then her head sank slowly into her hands. After a long moment she looked up again. “The boy in the village, remember?"
    Frost nodded.
    â€œHe's worse, burning with root-fever.” Exasperation filled her voice. Frost reached out and stroked her old friend's hair in sympathy. Oona sat up. “I've done everything I can think of!” she cried. “Nothing works."
    â€œThe father still blames you?"
    Oona got up and paced the floor. “He's in a high rage for sure.”