Nightshade Unicorn: Forerunner

Prologue: The Storm Begins

Tylonus sat on a crate at the bow of the merchant ship Armadillo, gathering his thoughts while the morning sea air tousled his loose hair. He took in the open view of the wide expanse of sea and sky, appreciating the freshness of the spray, even if it was frigid.

Tylonus had departed from home with a rather simple goal but had caught word of better prices for his cargo if he would just accompany his goods to the next port. After an extended trading voyage, purchasing passage and cargo space on one ship and then another, he would finally soon set his face toward home. Now he was nearly done, he’d decided. He would be home in another month or two. Permanently.

The majority of the ship’s crew was off shift at the moment, resting below. The morning’s heavy work was mostly done already, the few who remained working to maintain the proper heading.

“Beware the Nightshade Unicorn!” one of the sailors bellowed in his face.

Tylonus flinched at the abruptness of the man’s outburst, then rolled his eyes. “Please, not another sea story.”

“No story here, turf man,” the sailor said while he held his arms out in innocence.

“Must you use a derogatory, Pontil?” Tylonus said to the sailor. “Just because I’m not a member of the crew or a regular seagoer like you…”

Pontil wasn't a bad man in Tylonus’s eyes, but he had shown himself to subscribe to various superstitions before, casting him in a dubious light as far as credibility was concerned.

“My apologies, thank you for reminding me, stonefooted Tylonus.”

Pontil bowed in jest, raising an eyebrow to invite Tylonus to engage.

Tylonus breathed in deeply and then exhaled, consigning himself to a few minutes with the man. He hoped it would at least be entertaining.

“Very well, Pontil. I've been all over the Glosen and Nylornian coasts and the seas in between, but please, tell me about what definitely exists but I’ve never heard of from a credible source.”

Pontil harrumphed.

“Vlon, you remember what I told you, right?” he said to another sailor. “Turf man here doesn't believe in the Nightshade Unicorn.”

Vlon piped up, “Listen to him, dirt-walker. You don't know what you don't know.”

Vlon returned to adjusting some rope attached to the sails—Tylonus still didn’t know the difference between all the ship’s ropes—casting a judging glance at Pontil for not helping.

Pontil didn't notice the older sailor's gaze and took Tylonus’s unenthusiastic invitation to heart instead.

“The Nightshade Unicorn lives on an island–”

“Can’t you call them the Nomord, instead of unicorns?” Tylonus interrupted.

“Why?” Pontil looked confused.

“Because that’s what they’re called,” Tylonus explained slowly.

Pontil blinked and started again, unfazed.

“The Nightshade Unicorn lives on an island in the northern waters–”

“Yes, you’ve said as much before,” Tylonus cut in again.

Pontil continued, “–in northern waters, like we are now.”

“But I’ve been tracking our progress with the ship navigator,” Tylonus interjected again. “We’ll put into Malnonny within a week, to the northeast. You claim the island to be to the west, closer to Glosenstat or Ylonga. But we’re quite some distance from that, and of course you’d say it’s in the Islewilds because there are hundreds of small islands there. It’s too easy to be vague about which one you’re talking about.”

Pontil spread his arms wide again, attempting to make a professional show of innocence despite the alcohol on his breath. At nine in the morning.

“I didn’t pick the location. That’s just where it is.”

“And it’s where we might end up, Pontil, if you don’t help me with this rigging,” Vlon said. “I don’t like what the wind is doing this morning. It might get rough tonight. Captain especially wants to make sure we’re all ship shape since our great hatch cover got smashed while we were loading. Until it’s repaired, any bit of rain will be a nuisance.”

“In a minute, man,” Pontil deflected. He turned back to Tylonus again. “As I said, beware the Nightshade Unicorn. The dark beast was born of everything evil in the world, and he cannot wait to be free from his cursed isle to devour people and demolish cities.”

Tylonus couldn’t hold back a small grin at the ridiculousness of it.

“A Nomord, eating people? They’re the most peaceable of creatures, and no bigger than horses. A Nomord would never resort to eating flesh, not if you call it Nightshade or even paint it black.”

“I’m trying to warn you, turf man,” Pontil insisted. “You need an iron charm to ward him off if you travel in these waters. You never know if you’ll wash ashore in his domain.”

“Ooh, maybe he’s swimming toward us,” Tylonus teased.

“Shrongelin forbid!” Pontil exclaimed, alarmed at the idea. “No, his hooves wouldn’t be good for swimming very far, I think. Here, I have extra charms that I got in Dullsworthen. I had a friend what saw the dark beast once. He was first mate on his ship, and he swore they couldn’t find the island again because their compasses didn’t work.”

Tylonus had expected Pontil to dive into some tale or other, and it seemed the sailor didn’t disappoint. Tylonus smirked to himself while Pontil told more about his friend.

“Said they struck ashore looking for fresh water. Barely made it to the beachhead on account of a storm. Found the water, but the island was full of strange wildlife. Cast off quick as they could. But a great, dark unicorn stepped out of the woods, staring hate itself at them and at the water what prevented it from getting to them. They was at least a day’s sail away, and the sky was overcast to boot when the compasses would work and they could get their bearings again. I can only say I’s been lucky never to see the Nightmare Unicorn.”

He gestured widely, attempting to convey the great bulk of an antagonistic animal chasing them.

Tylonus sighed at the sailor’s ineloquence.

“Why don’t you call them the Nomord?”

“Is the Nightshade really one of them?” Pontil mused to himself.

Tylonus thought the sailor’s question might actually have merit, if the creature existed at all. “Unicorn” was just a slang word for the Nomord, after all.

Pontil shrugged it off. “Anyway, Rauling–that’s my friend–and his crew could feel the Nightshade’s influence. He was trying to make them ill, you see, every last man. Normal unicorns can heal, you know, but the Nightshade Unicorn’s magic works backward. He unheals his victims before he eats them.”

Tylonus indulged in another eyeroll. Pontil didn’t notice.

“But Rauling and his men, they had charms. Those who didn’t have charms got seasick.”

“Could it be because they were at sea?” Tylonus asked rhetorically.

“No, they had their sea legs,” Pontil refuted. “Here, I’ll let you have multiple charms. Four marks each, and the big baddy stays at least five paces away.”

The sailor held up a collection of ramshackle knick-knacks bound with twine and wire, offering them to Tylonus.

“Don’t be preposterous,” Tylonus replied. “I beware bad trades and defective product. I’ll keep my marks to trade in Malnonny, then I’ll head home. I came with my share of the cargo, I’ll make my last trades, go home, and be done traveling.”

He pulled his coat more snugly around himself against the northern chill.

“Rauling’s not a dolt, stonefoot,” Vlon said. “If he says he seen it, he seen it.”

“I’m sure he did.”

Tylonus turned away from the men and looked to the horizon, trying to enjoy the sunshine without engaging them. After a moment he stood.

“Beware the twisted isle!” Pontil warned again. “The Nightshade Unicorn wanders there and eats poor travelers who wander in. Just four marks…”

“Excuse me, I think I’ve had enough of this tale.”

Tylonus stepped around the sailor and walked aft of the Armadillo, heading down to his berthing. He would rather spend his time drafting a letter to pass on to a cutter home as soon as they reached port. He had been trying to gather his thoughts for this before Pontil had other ideas. He heard the sailor start singing behind him, releasing a shanty from his throat that Tylonus had heard many times before.

Tylonus descended to his quarters shared with another passenger, a man from the university in Bolsnard. His cabinmate was in their quarters, already occupying the small board that passed as a desk. The shipboard accommodations were tight and simple.

“Do you think you’ll be long, Rubiro?” Tylonus asked.

“Oh, no,” the academic said. “As a matter of fact, I’m all finished. I’ll clear off now.”

“Thank you. I need to write and clear my head. I’ve had enough talk of old fables up top. Nightmare Unicorns and all that.”

“Ah, yes,” the professor acknowledged. “You know, we cannot say for sure there isn’t such a creature. In fact, the old stories my colleagues have dug up seem to mention something—mind you, they’re not the easiest to translate—which may not have been a proper Nomord, but was some kind of magical beast.”

“You, too?” Tylonus looked at the scholar in disappointment.

“Well, the stories have that in common, the beast. They speak of a great calamity that followed the appearance of a dark beast, and…most of them identify that beast as being like a Nomord.”

Rubiro finished packing his papers away and stood.

“Yes. I’m sure they do.” Tylonus replied, sitting at the desk and pulling some stationery from the satchel hanging on his bed.

Rack, he mentally corrected himself. On ship, the bed is called a rack.

“But the supposed time of calamity was thousands of years ago, and the stories don’t actually say the dark beast was the calamity, right?” Tylonus asked.

“Well,” Rubiro blinked, thinking. He cocked his head. “Some do, but there is disagreement between texts. At the very least, the dark beast appears before the calamity. And there are old battlefields that we—”

“Don’t mention dragons again, please.”

Rubiro was indignant. “I wasn’t going to. Only that there are–um, that we have discovered battlefields where we have no historical record of a battle occurring. And the calamity that follows the dark beast is supposed to affect the whole world over. Indeed, we find intriguing artifacts…”

Tylonus ignored the man and put his attention on the letter he wrote, trying to focus as the winds outside, the winds Vlon had complained of, continued to play mischievously, and the Armadillo began to sway.

***

Tylonus awoke with a jolt, falling out of his rack. His sleep had been hard-won with the Armadillo rocking the way it did in this weather. Now he propped himself up on his elbows, shaking the sleep from his head.

“Tylonus, get up!” Rubiro shouted, carrying a pair of large scoops with handles.

Bailers, Tylonus thought.

“Captain says we need all hands to help. Take this.”

The professor offered Tylonus one of the bailers with one hand. Blinking, he pulled it back and held it under his arm, then offered his now-empty hand.

“But we’re not crew. I paid my passage,” Tylonus protested.

He took Rubiro’s hand and climbed to his feet.

“So did I, but this storm is something else. I personally fancy the idea of making it through and surviving the night.”

Tylonus nodded, seeing the alarm in Rubiro’s eyes.

“So do I.”

accepting the bailer, he followed him above decks and into a cacophony of shouts, thunder, whipping wind, and the constant roar of the heaviest rain Tylonus could remember seeing.

Men rushed about, hollering at each other to pull this rope or tighten that sail, and one of the sailors approached him and Rubiro.

“Go back below!” he shouted.

Tylonus held his bailer up, wondering where he might be of help.

“Below!” the sailor bellowed again, pointing at the gap in the great hatch cover in the center of the deck.

The large, rectangular hole would normally have been properly covered, but now its broken cover revealed a steep ladder leading down through its gaping hole.

“Go below, fill your bailer, hand it up, and receive another!”

As Tylonus understood the plan to keep excess water out of the ship, the sailor practically shoved him, making him nearly fall belowdecks as the ship’s heaving continuously robbed him of his good footing.

“Aye-aye!” Tylonus responded, using the sailor terminology as the clearest way to indicate his immediate compliance.

He jumped down, using the side of the hole to steady himself as he fell the modest distance. He still slipped when he landed, but got up again. It was easier to see down here, where the air wasn’t full of raindrops and the lanterns swinging from their hooks on the overhead didn’t require a hood to keep water out.

Looking to one corner of the chamber, Tylonus saw water gathered, while a man rushed from a forward chamber and handed his bailer up above decks. Rubiro climbed down the ladder in the great hatch, catching up to Tylonus, then both of them started bailing water out of this chamber while men continued to rush past from the chambers below, closer to the bilge. Tylonus and Rubiro found themselves crowding each other as they tried to bail the same area independently.

“Stand here!” Tylonus said to the professor, pointing at the deck under his feet as he stood below the great hatch. “I’ll hand to you, you hand up!”

Rubiro nodded, understanding the shortened phrasing. Tylonus ran to the corner and filled a bailer, brought it back to Rubiro, received an empty bailer, and repeated the process. A passenger named Clonnel, a smith from one of the Colnarn Protectorate states, had been pressed into temporary service as well, receiving the bailers that Rubiro handed up to him.

Tylonus worked as fast as he could, but the rain was insistent on filling the ship with unwanted water. He slogged and fought against the downpour, keenly aware of not only the rain that fell directly through the hole in the hatch cover, but also water that spilled in from the main deck despite a small ridge that existed specifically to prevent that. The torrent threw enough water at the Armadillo that it sloshed over continuously.

Tylonus tired of the heavy work but pushed himself to continue. Then, with a great smashing crack, the deck under his feet jumped and yanked itself against the bouncing and rolling.

“What was that?” Rubiro shouted in the dim light.

“Aground, we’ve run aground!” voices shouted from above.

“Rocks! Rocks!” A lone voice screamed over the top of the din. “We hit rocks!”

“Let me see with my own eyes!” bellowed an authoritative voice that Tylonus recognized.

The captain jumped down the great hatch, landing beside Rubiro. He barely noticed the slippery deck as he rushed fore, into the bowels of his ship to assess the flooding for himself.

Tylonus felt the ship around him seem to hang at one corner, making the other side of the room rise and fall more dramatically, sending the water washing from one side to another. He chased after the water with his bailer, scooping what he could, and tried to hand it to his fellow traveler.

Rubiro was distracted, watching the sailors skit about abovedeck. The storm continued to rage, but the human activity hit a lull as all ears strained to hear what news came from below.

Tylonus heard a cry raise from the deck fore and below, first one voice and then others repeating it.

“Abandon ship!”

The captain came running back past Tylonus, waving his arms and directing activity.

“Follow procedure, abandon ship!”

This caused a new, intense flurry of movement as all hands shifted to a new plan. Men left their stations, untying or even cutting ropes, letting sails flap loosely in the gusts that buffeted the now-dying Armadillo.

“First mate! Passengers! To my cabin!”

Tylonus and Rubiro climbed the ladder to the top deck and went aft, passing through a door to the captain’s cabin, following Clonnel.

Captain Yalnan and his wife, Thonalu, were waiting for them, bracing themselves on the captain’s desk to stand against the ship’s bucking. One more passenger entered behind the other three.

Yalnan spoke.

“The rain was a nuisance with our open great hatch, but it’s worse than that now. Our hull is punctured and we’re taking on water. You each have a space on our lifeboats, as you know. You can bring with you only what you can carry in one arm. One arm.”

He held a finger up to accentuate his point.

“My sailors will help you board. Are there any questions?”

He paused for a moment, then continued.

“You’ll all be going west toward Ylonga. I wish you the best.” Yalnan stopped talking, staring at the passengers.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Thonalu barked. “The captain spoke, now make it happen! You have two minutes to grab what you will from your cabins and get on the lifeboats. Go!” Her face was hard, unreadable.

“Yes, First Mate.” Tylonus responded as he turned on his heel, nearly running out of the cabin. He assumed the other passengers followed, but didn’t turn to look.

Sailors crossed in front of him and around him as he rushed to his cabin, quickly threw a few things into a bag, and made his way to the bow of the Armadillo.

“Well, it’s about time you’re here!” Vlon belted, hoarse from shouting in the wind.

“You ready?” Pontil asked, manipulating a rope on a pulley to lower the lifeboat to the water.

“Ready to survive, if we’re so lucky!” Tylonus said.

“Then climb do—” Pontil started.

At that moment a thunderous boom sounded as lightning lit up the night and the mainmast snapped in two. It leapt forward and to the starboard, catching a sailor on the starboard bow as it tumbled...

(Ending mid-scene due to submission length constraints)