Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

Darkwood. Right. That's it. Get that saddle off me, I'm not moving.'
    'We're only going into it a little way ...'
    'So I'll suppose we'll only be killed a little bit. Forget it!'
    'Look, unicorn, either we go and fetch the High Warlock, or the Darkwood will come looking for us. It's that simple.'
    'There has to be another alternative.'
    'Like what?'
    'Run away?'
    Rupert laughed, and patted the unicorn's neck. 'Are all unicorns as chicken as you?'
    'The ones with any sense are. The only reason unicorns are so rare is that most of us haven't the sense to come in out of the rain. Or to stay clear of humans.'
    Rupert studied the unicorn thoughtfully. 'You're my friend, aren't you?'
    The unicorn shifted his feet. 'Yeah, I suppose so. I've got used to having you around.'
    'I have to go back into the Darkwood again. It's my duty.'
    'I know,' sighed the unicorn resignedly. 'And I have to go with you.'
    Rupert patted the unicorn's neck again. 'Thanks. I'd hate to have to do it without you.' He frowned suddenly. 'Unicorn ...'
    'Yes?'
    'I just realised ... all this time we've been together, and I don't even know your name.'
    The unicorn turned his head slowly, and fixed Rupert with a blood-red eye.
    'My name? I'm a slave, Prince. Slaves don't have names.'
    The courtyard seemed suddenly colder, and Rupert looked away, unable to meet the unicorn's steady gaze.
    'You're not a slave ...'
    'No? You think I wear this saddle and bridle by choice? I was taken from my herd by men with ropes and whips. They beat me till they broke my spirit, and then they sold me to you. That's not slavery?' The unicorn laughed bitterly. 'You've been good to me, Rupert. I'm fond of you, in my way. But I'm still a slave, and you're still my master. And slaves don't have names. I used to have a name. When I was free, I had a name.' The unicorn's voice dropped to a whisper. 'One day, I'll have a name again.'
    'I'm. . . sorry,' said Rupert lamely. 'I just. . . never thought about it before.' He looked up to meet the unicorn's gaze. 'I led you into the Darkwood, and nearly got you killed. You could have run off and left me any time, but you didn't, because I needed you. You're my friend, unicorn. If you don't want to come with me, you don't have to. But I wish you would.'
    Man and unicorn stared at each other.
    'Climb aboard,' said the unicorn finally. 'We've a long ride ahead of us.'
    Rupert nodded, set his foot in the stirrup, and swung up into the saddle. Not back twenty-four hours, and already on his way again. Julia was right, he thought suddenly. We shouldn't have come back to the Castle. We were happy together, out there in the Forest. We didn't know about Harold's marriage contract, or the spreading Darkwood. I could have loved you, Julia. I could have loved you, then.
    He sighed and shook his head, and then looked up as the slow clatter of approaching hooves caught his attention. The Champion drew up beside him, astride an armoured charger. The horse stood a good ten hands taller than the unicorn, and carried the heavy armour with nonchalant ease. Impressive , thought Rupert. Great for jousting. But not a lot of use against a pack of demons.
    'Expecting trouble, sir Champion?' he asked, solemnly.
    'Always, Sire. I take it you're ready to leave?'
    'Of course. You did an excellent job, sir Champion. I'm hurt, but not actually damaged.'
    'I try to be professional.'
    'One of these days . . .'
    'You'll what, Sire? Slip poison in my cup, or a dagger in my back? I doubt it, that's not your way. You want to beat me sword to sword, like you did Harald. And you'll never be good enough to take me that way.'
    'Don't put money on it,' said Rupert calmly. 'There was a time Harald thought the same.'
    The Champion gave him a hard look, but said nothing. For a long moment the two men stared at each other, feeling the change in their relationship, and for the first time Rupert realised that he wasn't afraid of the Champion any more. For as long as Rupert could remember, the Champion had seemed to him the personification of death — a cold-eyed killer with a bloody sword who would one day come for him as he had come for so many others. But not any more. Rupert had gone sword to sword with him under the worst possible conditions, and he'd drawn blood twice. He might have lost the fight, but nobody had let the Champion's blood in over twenty years. The man was good, very good, but he wasn't unbeatable.
    And one day, thought Rupert, I'm going to prove it. He grinned