Unicorn Point

They continued playing, holding the ogres spellbound. The effect evidently included the ogres farther away, because there was no sound of crashing or roaring anywhere. There was only the serenade.

Neysa managed to climb up a bit farther, and to hold on with her legs. She got her teeth on the knot. Now, reluctantly, it was loosening. Soon she would have it!  Suddenly there was the roar of a dragon, horribly loud. For a moment it overrode the music.

The ogres recovered. Their leader roared. Then all of them were roaring, following his example—and the unicorns were drowned out.

Disaster! The ogres, finding the unicorns behind them, wheeled and charged, roaring continuously. The music was no longer effective, because it could not be heard. The unicorns had to get away—and they were almost surrounded.  Fortunately Clip had drilled them on a fallback procedure.  They formed a compact group, their rears together, their horns pointing outward. The ogres could not readily attack this group without getting homed.

Meanwhile the members of the Herd who were farther back saw the problem. They assumed their manforms and brought out their bows. Soon arrows were annoying the ogres from behind them.

These ogres turned and charged the manforms. They picked their dropped rocks and hurled them, forcing the ‘corns to take cover behind trees. Then, realizing that there was a flag to fetch, the ogres tramped onward, gathering in their forces as they went, becoming a seemingly invincible force.  Clip knew that this was no good. His grand ploy had failed and his ‘corns were in danger. Neysa had disappeared; she must have changed back to firefly form when the ogres re sumed action, because any who spied her in the tree could knock her out with a single hurled stone. It was time to look to their own flag!

He set the example. He changed to hawkform and flew quickly up and away. The others did the same; he had had the caution to include in this group only those who had flying forms. The ogres oriented and threw rocks, but the change was so quick that they were too late; few if any escaping ‘corns were caught.

Now they were in for it. The ogres, freed of distraction, were forging toward the blue flag. Fleta had imaginatively set some traps, just in case; when the ogres tramped straight forward, they blundered into a giant pitfall. They promptly proceeded to bash their way out of it, but this brought down a great deal of dirt, halfway burying them, and served to slow them down. Thereafter the ogres made long poles and poked them at the ground ahead, feeling out a safe path. This also slowed them, but not enough.

Manform ‘corns hid behind trees and emerged only to throw spears at the advancing horde. The ogres hurled rocks back, but took losses. Thereafter they kept their hairy arms cocked, ready to throw a rock at any living thing that showed, and the ‘corns had to desist. The ogres advanced.  What were they to do? Clip’s best play had failed, and it was clear that the ogres would in time reach the flag and take it down. Was there no stopping them?

It occurred to him, in this hour of desolation, that there had been something funny about that dragon roar that had ruined his ploy of music. There were supposed to be no drag ons here! How could one have roared so loud and close as to drown out the massed unicorns? Where was that dragon? It had never shown up.

Clip ground his teeth. Was it possible that there had been no dragon? That the Adepts had made that sound to ruin his ploy? If so, they had cheated—but how could it be proven?  A hummingbird came to him. It became Fleta. “Uncle, I have a plan, a ruse—willst let me try?”

“An thou hast a way, mare, try it!” he agreed.

“But methinks I will need thy help. I will lead an ogre, and thou must dispatch it only when I say. Canst do that?” Just like that: dispatch an ogre! But if the monster were distracted, it was possible.

 “Aye.”

“Remember, only when I say, else all be lost. This be one odd ploy.”

Clip became cautious. “Must needs I know more o’ this.”

“I mean to lead it to our flag—“

“That be no problem! They be going there anyway!”

“Ahead o’ the others,” she continued. “And let it take the flag-”

“What?”

“Shortly before thou dost dispatch it.” Oh. Now that he thought about it, he realized that this would make it easier to eliminate the ogre, because it would be thinking only of the flag. Still, it was chancy. “Better to dispatch it before it gets the flag,” he said.

“Nay, Uncle! It must be after! Only after, when I tell thee!”

Why did she want it this way? He decided to do it her way.  It wouldn’t hurt, as long as he did stop the ogre. But he did not see how this would stop the overall thrust of the remaining ogres. There would not be time to lead each of them up alone, so soon the region of the flag would be swamped with the monsters. “Aye,” he said.