1 – Le Symbole Héraldique Mort

A dead unicorn? Batel knelt to avoid the silver-stained blades of grass; unicorn blood saturated the morning dew. His regal purple magician’s robe remained still despite the autumn breeze pushing against him. A frown furrowed his brow, although his youthful round face betrayed years of insightful experience. In one hand, a halberd rested; the shaft made from Sangterre-treated oak, the axe-head and spike made from steel enchanted whilst still molten in the mould. This isn’t good. His fingertips brushed the creature’s open wound taking great care to avoid any of his own chestnut-coloured hairs falling inside the flesh and contaminating the scene – he was forensic in his approach. Deep tears from claws. Penetration from what looks like a beak. Whatever killed this unicorn drained the magic from its blood.

‘Odd the attacker didn’t steal the horn,’ a voice said.

Marie stood behind Batel; a blond religious cleric wearing saintly white robes with ribbons flowing from her arms. White gloves prevented her hands becoming dirtied as she clung onto a staff carved from a rare genus of mahogany grown in magical soil for centuries. A jewel at the top of the staff glistened as Sangterre flowed through it as a viscous slivery liquid, reminiscent of mercury.

‘Correct,’ Batel continued. Odd the body is lying out here in open fields. Unicorns usually dwell in forests. The majestic white steeds were the proud property of nobility; adored for everything from their cloven hooves to lions’ tails. Some were even bearded, but most were shaved to maintain a perception of unambiguous beauty. The slender spiral horn was the envy of the world, a lightning rod for poachers. Money wasn’t the motivator behind this attack. The unicorn’s magic was more valuable than its horn. Batel looked behind them; a dense wood that stretched miles and miles towards the river valley stood proud in the distance. This creature was chased out of the forest.

‘Any clues?’

It was the giant Johan. He kept watch ready to draw out his swords in case of a secondary attack from bandits. His muscles bulged around segmented body armour. Proud of his scars and unkempt beard, Johan exuded a warrior’s confidence. On his back, two sheaths, secured tightly, housed swords blessed with various enchantments and designed to cut through magical defences. ‘What kind of monster are we dealing with here?’

‘I hope it’s a gryphon!’ Talitha announced.

She jumped up and down maddingly excited; she barely reached Johan’s shoulders. Her hazelnut hair swished like a horse’s tail. Her prize possession was a notebook detailing her adventures alongside a magical quill that secreted its own ink. On her belt, she had two daggers dipped in Sangterre ready to leave more than just a sting. A rough bag, falling apart at the seams, jumped in time with her leaps. ‘Oh! Oh! A dragon? No! Maybe a wyvern!’

‘Stop it!’ Marie screamed, hitting the top of Talitha’s head with her staff. ‘Stop getting excited about random monster attacks.’

‘Boring.’ Ignoring the light knock, Talitha rolled her eyes. ‘Besides, how many things can kill a unicorn so easily?’ She scribbled away creating a makeshift bestiary.

‘For a thief, you’re oddly scholarly.’ Marie lent on her preconceived notions before realising she had fallen for the bait.

‘For a cleric, you’re as uptight as I expected.’ Talitha fired back her premeditated barb as soon as Marie finished the last syllable. You’re making this too easy for me.

Marie growled incessantly. ‘How can you be so rude?’

‘I’ll go pray for forgiveness to your goddess Arcana,’ Talitha mocked whilst faking a tear with her finger. ‘But I’m sure she’ll agree with me.’

Johan placed his giant hand on Talitha’s shoulder causing her to shiver and her spine to straighten to attention. ‘Show some respect. There aren’t many unicorns left.’

‘Oh,’ Talitha remembered. ‘Should we eat it then?’

Marie furiously bonked Talitha on the head with her staff over and over again. ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘Stop it!’ Talitha jumped backwards rubbing the top of her head. Whose bright idea was it to give her a staff? ‘I guess leaving a unicorn to rot out here in the open is so much better than eating it.’ Talitha looked around dreading there might be other predators lurking in the shadows and becoming impatient as they waited to feast.

‘She’s got a point.’ Johan allowed his imagination to wonder. His mouth moistened; tongue jubilant at the idea of dining on the finest meat he would ever enjoy. It would be a banquet worthy of kings.

‘Idiots!’ Marie swung her staff bouncing it off Johan’s sheet armour. The blow barely tickled. Johan laughed; bemused by the attempt. ‘Unicorns are a protected species,’ Marie shouted; she couldn’t believe she found herself justifying centuries worth of tradition to simpletons.

Talitha applied some open box thinking. ‘But are they protected if they’re dead?’

‘Batel?’ No reply. ‘BATEL!’ Marie screeched, her voice cracking.

He ignored her.

Instead, he focused on the dead unicorn and eliminated the possibilities. What could do this? A wyvern? No beak. A gryphon? Maybe, but I need more information. His eye caught something besides the corpse, a red feather floating in the trail of silver blood. He pierced the feather with the tip of his halberd’s spike and held it aloft in the morning sunlight. Is this from a rooster? His mind completed the puzzle and did not enjoy the solution. His neck became stiff and he tried cracking it to relieve it. What’s a Cockatrice doing here? Either it got lost when shipped or more likely‒

‘BATEL!’ Marie screeched again knowing he was lost in thought. Why can’t you just listen to me for once? ‘Why did you bring this … this‒’

Talitha was intrigued, pen ready to write down the insult. ‘Go on.’

‘Thief!’ Marie finished her sentence knowing anger had got the better of her. ‘Why did you bring this thief with us? Is she really going to be useful? At least Johan is good with a sword.’

Talitha sniggered, hands on hips, chest thrown out confidently. ‘Best thief money can buy.’

‘We’ve not paid you anything,’ Johan reminded.

Talitha deflated. ‘Well not yet,’ she laughed trying to save face. ‘But if we kill a magical beast then I’ll fold my gold into my bedsheets.’

‘YOU ARE UNBELIEVABLY SELFISH!’ Marie could not suppress her anger and frustration.

Talitha bowed mockingly. ‘To balance your selflessness, I accept this heavy burden.’ She sighed now, bored of meaningless bickering. You can only win so many times. She pointed at Batel, lost in his own world.‘Is he finished yet? What’s he even looking at?’

Marie squinted to filter out the sunlight. ‘It looks like a feather.’

Batel finished his examinations. ‘Johan,’ he ventured ignoring the bickering amongst his increasingly dysfunctional group. ‘How reflective are your swords?’

Johan furrowed his brow. ‘Quite.’ He pulled one of the swords with its magical runes etched upon the perfectly tempered blade out of its sheath.

If the rumours are true, a Cockatrice, which is hard to kill, will supposedly die by looking at its own reflection. Problem is, out here, they aren’t any mirrors. ‘Pass me your sword.’

Johan consented and handed over the blade. Batel, not being a giant, struggled with its heavy weight and had difficulty lifting and moving it freely. Remind me never to fight Johan alone. He inspected the sword. Not shiny enough. I can only see my eyes when the blade is up close. We need another means. He offered back the sword and Johan accepted it.

‘Marie?’ Batel explored a second avenue. ‘Can you cast a mirror spell?’

‘Err‒’ Marie grasped her staff tightly. A mirror? I don’t know if I can. That’s a specific spell. ‘Why?

‘We might be dealing with a Cockatrice,’ Batel reported reluctantly.

Talitha cheered whilst writing furiously.

‘How are we going to kill a Cockatrice?’ Marie’s concern was tangible.

Johan held his blade aloft championing his own skills. ‘Thrust my sword through its heart!’

‘I’ll stab it, for an extra fee.’ Talitha winked causing Marie to sneer.

Batel wondered if that would be enough. A Cockatrice roaming free is bad news. It dirties the landscape. ‘Supposedly, it kills itself if it sees its own reflection in a mirror.’

Talitha’s face scrunched in disbelief. ‘Who came up with that?’

‘We head towards Licorne,’ Johan said; he had formulated a plan knowing Batel needed time to breathe. ‘Tell them what we found.’

Marie sensed Batel’s concern; he stood awkwardly; shoulders hunched. This Cockatrice is stirring something inside him. I can see it in eyes. He wants, no, needs to be the one to stop this beast.

Talitha didn’t read the body language but was instead captivated by the idea of untold riches. ‘And when we’ve told them, we accept the highest bidder.’

‘It will probably be the Telliers,’ Johan informed. ‘They’re local nobility.’

Telliers? Batel remembered the name. Funders? Patrons? ‘Aren’t they one of the richest families in the whole country?’

‘Yes.’ Marie’s expression dropped realising this was probably their land. ‘Unicorns are on their coat of arms.’

Johan and Talitha could see the hefty reward for removing the scourge of a foul beast that slayed the Telliers’ precious unicorns, Cockatrice or not.

‘And I bet they have spare treasures ripe for stealing,’ Talitha said whilst she dreamt of the gemstones they had acquired either as gifts or by less morally permissible means.

‘We must protect these lands,’ Marie affirmed. ‘The people here worship Arcana. They expect her protection.’ She slammed her staff into the ground, their safety her reward.

Something’s not right here. Batel was more concerned about the challenge ahead rather than any reward – monetary or spiritual. If this Cockatrice is indeed magically enhanced, I must stop it. I’ve seen too many people’s lives destroyed by such creatures and I’ve been unable to save them all. Well, that’s not going to happen here. Thinking laterally, he’d already compiled a case file in his mind; a figurative corkboard to map all the evidence. A Cockatrice would be expensive to purchase. The Telliers could afford one, but that doesn’t add up. Buying a creature that would kill their own unicorns would be the last thing they would do.

Talitha got out one of her knives and looked enviously and longingly towards the unicorn’s horn. I’ll have so much money. There’s always an alchemist wanting a unicorn’s horn for their crazy experiments.

Marie grabbed Talitha by her arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

Talitha struggled. ‘Let me go.’

‘Touch that unicorn and I’ll personally ignite your funeral pyre.’ The wrath of a holy woman was one not to be tested.

Johan chuckled. ‘She would as well.’

Talitha didn’t reply; she realised she’d found the line in the sand and so calmly and slowly stepped back once Marie let go of her arm.

‘Are you done?’ Batel impatiently tapped his foot. ‘It’ll take all day to get to Licorne.’

‘Wait a second.’ Marie stood over the unicorn’s corpse and pointed the orb of her staff at it. The Sangterre flowing inside the orb illuminated like a shining star in the midnight sky. The unicorn became encased in a bronze shell that sealed the body perfectly; no air would encounter it and no harm would befall it. You can be remembered as a statue. I am so sorry.

Batel nodded appreciatively. Johan and Talitha paid their respects. A fitting tribute I feel.

Batel began to lead the group to the south-west towards the base of the river valley where Licorne nestled, the image of the dead unicorn driving him forward. We need to stop these monsters. Time to ruffle some Tellier feathers.

If you wish to read more, please download from Amazon – The Tellier’s Cockatrice