Destiny Dreams And Demons - Chapter 8 Laylan 8

“Faster, Artimous,” Laylan yelled to her best friend or at least favorite unicorn. She was riding across the Scarside Plains outside of Beskal.

In response, Artimous pushed harder and rode into Crystalwick Forest with such speed that the trees bowed from the force of the air around him. He galloped on, his mane fluttered back into Laylan’s angelic face. Her own white hair was floating back. In her ears she could hear only his hooves hitting the ground and the twigs giving way to his body.
for visiting.

They ran deep into the woods and came to a water fall. Without warning, Artimous leapt into it and emerged into more vast forest that Laylan did not recognize but she could sense that something was different.

Artimous slowed his pace and Laylan sat up. She looked around and realized that the trees around them, no longer radiated of Cion’s glow. The trees were dark, angry, and full of pain.

“Where are we, Artimous?” She gasped. She no longer saw the same animals, she had always seen in the forest. The forest even sounded different. The Ribons, with their beautiful songs, were not heard. Instead, silence rang through her ears. “Artimous?” she called again, this time lowering herself to look into his eye.

“Well, Princess. I wanted to show you something. But it cannot be found in Cion.” His voice was raspy and slightly out of breath as he explained.

“What, Artimous? What is it?”

“Be still, Princess, I shall explain.” He took a deep breath and began. “Many, many years ago, long before you were born. We all lived here, in the Mortal World, with the humans.” They neared a small clearing and Artimous stopped. Laylan dropped down to the ground and began to look around. “Greagan will explain the rest, but I wanted you to know my story.”

Laylan looked inquisitively around. She could see dark stains on the bark of the trees around her. She reached out and touched one and suddenly knew that the stains were blood. Not ordinary blood, but the enchanted blood of a unicorn. She gaped and looked at Artimous.

“One day, or shall I say the last day that all you know were here. Greagan, Gomorrah, Lucassius, myself and many others left the day following. Are you ready to hear this story, Princess? For this is not a happy tale.” Laylan stood silent hoping she was indeed ready. She lowered her head to him as if to say, ‘continue,’ and so he did.

“Our last day here was a painful one for Greagan and me, especially, for me. I had been a normal, mortal unicorn, no different than the rest. I could not speak in the means that I can now. I couldn’t speak to you or Greagan or even to your mother.

“I had been walking through the woods quietly enjoying my day when suddenly four men, Humans, jumped out of these trees here.” He lifted his head and used his long face to point. In his eyes Laylan could see as he was reliving the horror in his mind. “They had swords and whips and one had a saw of some sort. They…” he paused and shut his eyes, as if in pain. He spoke with his eyes still closed. “They struck me with the whips until they had gotten in close enough for one of the men to jab his sword into my chest. In pain, I collapsed. They continued to my horror and pain, to stab and cut me.”

Laylan looked around, realizing that these stains were made of Artimous’ own blood. She looked back at him and a single tear rolled down his cheek and long face. She wanted so badly to just put her arms around him and wipe the tear away.

He opened his eyes at her movement and continued on, “As I took my final breaths of life, I could see the man with the saw begin to hack into my horn. I felt the jagged teeth of the saw breaking away at it. I closed my eyes hoping and praying to your father to end my life before the men finished my horn. I could feel myself slipping away. The darkness began to seep through and I felt it consuming me.

“Then, suddenly, I felt and saw a light. I heard a voice that rang a song of angels. And I was being pulled from the darkness. I had returned from the dead. When I opened my eyes and stood, I realized how. There in front of me stood the Goddess of the Moon. She sweetly asked me my name and I spoke. She had been angered by the selfishness of the humans that had attacked me. They had killed me for fun, for sport. No purpose but enjoyment.

“This angered your mother and father so, they granted us all a sanctuary, a world all our own. A pagan world, to live safely amongst each other and we did. As I said, this was our last day, here, in the Mortal World. And it was the last day that I had been a mortal unicorn.”

Laylan stood there gazing at Artimous. She searched for words but none came to her. Suddenly, she heard a twig break in the distance and she and Artimous turned to see what had snuck up on them. Artimous knelt low to the ground in an attempt to make himself small in the vast forest.

Suddenly, she saw him. He was a tall human with chestnut brown hair. His tan complexion complimented well with his hair and deep dark eyes, making him beautiful. The man wiped a cloth at his eyes, which were pink and slightly swollen. He had been crying.

Laylan felt a sudden twinge in her heart that she did not understand. ‘Why do I feel sympathy for this human?’ She questioned herself with disdain and found no answer. He took a few more steps and Laylan shifted her feet to better see him, as she did a small twig cracked under her foot. The man heard it and his head jerked, his eyes peering in Laylan’s direction. She glanced over and realized that Artimous; brave, valiant, Artimous; was shivering and cowering in fear.

At that, Laylan felt another twinge inside of her heart but this time, it was not of sympathy. It was hot and full. She wanted to hurt this man as men had hurt her dear friend, who now quivered in fear. She picked up a large stick that was almost shaped like her staff, back home. Laylan grasped it tight as she watched the man start toward her. She watched with focused eyes as he neared her. She chose her moment, and then she leapt out of the bushes that she had been hiding behind and ran toward the man. He unsheathed his sword and stood waiting.

Just as Laylan neared the man, she jutted her staff into the ground in front of him and catapulted herself over his head in a flip that was graceful and sharp. She landed behind him and used her staff to hit him. First, on the side of his knee, his opposite hip, his right side of his ribs, and then the opposite side of his head. All four hits took about two thousandths of a second and he hit the ground racked in pain. Before he could even analyze what had just happened, she was standing over him with her staff at his throat. He realized that she could kill him if she meant to so he dropped his sword as far from his hand as he could and remained still.

“What is your name?” Laylan demanded. Her staff, still an inch from the man’s throat. “And why were you crying?” The man looked up at her and realized that somehow he knew this woman.

“I am Daemon, Prince of Perithian,” he announced. He saw a look in Laylan’s eyes that assured him that he had done the right thing in telling her his true identity. “I was crying because I was mourning the loss of my horse of three hundred years. He died early this morning and it is a hard thing for me.”

Laylan’s face hardened a bit then astonishment wiped her face smooth. “Did you say, Perithian?”

“Yes. And you are?”

Laylan allowed him to stand, she struck her make shift staff on the ground and let her hair down. The wind blew from behind, whisking her hair around to float by her face.

Suddenly, the wind shifted, whipping at her hair and it fluttered back over her shoulders, opening her perfect face. “I am Laylan, Princess of Pagan.”

Daemon gaped now knowing the truth. He outstretched his arm and offered her his hand. Laylan took a step back and looked at him with confusion. She had never been among humans before and did not understand or know any of their customs.

“Take my hand, Princess. Lesson one in humanity. Greet one another by shaking hands, especially, if you are introducing yourself.” He smiled kindly at her.

Still hesitant, she met his hand with hers and roughly shook it. “I am Laylan, Princess…”

“Yes, but not so rough, Princess, gently,” Daemon instructed. She loosened her grip and relaxed her arm. He gently shook her hand to show her the proper gesture. “Much better.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you, my Prince,” she said delicately and slightly bowed her head.

“You’re welcome, but just call me Daemon. Prince is unnecessary here.” He looked at her as he spoke, astonished at her beauty.

“Alright then, Daemon, call me Laylan,” she announced formally. “How long have you been here? And what exactly is ‘Mourning’?”

He took a few steps to a tree trunk that lay on its side. He took a seat before he proceeded to explain. “I have been here for a little over three hundred years. I was born here. My mother was human and my father was…Well, you know. I know about being human.” He continued on gently. “Mourning the loss of someone means that you are filled with sorrow because they died. My horse was given to me when I was still but a lad. We grew up together. I made him immortal so that he could stay with me. But my immortality on him only kept him alive, not young. Finally, I had to release him so that he could rest in peace. I lost a very dear friend and therefore I am sad. I mourn my loss of that friendship.” He finished with a tear in his eye.

Laylan felt a sudden jerk at her heart and a tear formed in her eye. She had shed tears before but not from this depth of sorrow. She blinked and it escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek and jaw line to her chin. She watched it fall and touch the ground and a dark black, rose sprung from the ground. She watched as it grew and bloomed. But instead of a fairy appearing and being born, as her tears had always done in Cion, it simply withered and died. She knelt down and felt a wave of disappointment wash over her.

“You’re not in Cion, Princess. Things in this world are mortal. The magick of Wicca does not work the same,” Artimous announced as he emerged from the bushes, watching Laylan.

Daemon jumped up and spun around, quickly unsheathing his sword, ready to attack. As he had just finished his turn, Laylan had had enough time to grab her staff and veered his sword away from Artimous. Laylan stood tall and defensive with her staff ready, standing between Artimous and Daemon. “Put down your weapon,” she spat out in rage. “You shall never bring harm to Artimous. He has suffered enough at the hands of man and he shall suffer no more!” she exclaimed, her lips pursed and her eye narrowed on Daemon.

Daemon sheathed his sword again and bowed in apology. “I’m sorry, I did not realize. Artimous, is it? I’ve never seen a unicorn. You are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” Daemon said surprised as he slowly stepped forward. He looked into Laylan’s eyes and she lowered her staff. He brought his eyes back to Artimous as he finished. “I would never bring harm to a gift from the Sun God, such as you. I am truly sorry to cause either of you any alarm.”

“You are not like other humans,” Artimous stated and questioned lightly.

Daemon gasped, “You can speak?” The shock took over him all at once. When he had heard him before he hadn’t realized that it was the unicorn in front of him now that had spoken.

“Yes, a gift from the Moon Goddess.”

“Oh!” Daemon exclaimed. “And to your question, no, I am not like other humans. I am Daemon, Prince of Perithian.”

Artimous bowed his head then replied, “Pleasure to make you acquaintance, then, sire.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. But please, just call me, Daemon. So what brings you two here to the Mortal World?”

“Well…” Laylan began but stopped. She had no idea how to explain her presence here.

“I brought her here to explain my own story.” Artimous spoke up. “I wanted to show her where it was that I had died. And was brought back by her mother’s hand, then she could better understand my feelings for the human race,” he finished with a shaky voice.

Laylan looked at her dearest friend, Artimous, and then at Daemon and nodded in approval.