Leng snorted, his pale skin flushed red, and his muscles tensed. He swung his flail down on the dead dryad at his feet, again and again. Brittle bones were smashed and rivulets of amber blood flowed down the Run.
At last, Leng swung the flail, dripping with fey blood, high into the air.
"Does this place hold nothing but disappointment?" he shouted, his voice hoarsening as he projected it over the waterfall. "Show yourselves! Where is the godly might? They say the nature gods walk here, but where are they now? Mielikki, Eldath, Shiallia, Lurue, and all the fey gods whose names I never bothered to learn—will you let me march into your domain unopposed? And where are the Unicorn Queen's children? Do you fear me so much that you must hide away? If you want to fight me, fight me now!"
A whinny was heard from the forest. As the group looked around at both banks, they could see hints of movement within the woods and patches of white—were they the unicorns, or was it just a trick of the light? Then the sound of trotting hooves came from both sides of the river, quickly growing louder.
The Antiquarians drew their weapons and tried to follow the sounds and movements in the forest. As soon as they caught a flash of white horn, they were distracted by a neigh or a clomp from elsewhere.
"There must be dozens of them," said Gan.
"Do not attack," Ardeth said tersely, her eyes darting to each Antiquarian and to Gan. "Do not help him." Leng ignored her. Perhaps he could not even hear her. His eyes and face were red with anger and hate, and he stared into the wall of water before them.
The low roar of the water increased to a scream like a hurricane. The spray from the waterfall intensified, hitting them like hailstones. Storm clouds gathered overhead where the sky had been blue moments before, electricity dancing from cloud to cloud. The Run flowed higher, faster. A wind began to howl, a mix of anguish and a war cry. They felt something whirl around them, some presence, some intelligence.
"Nature is in revolt," Nithinial whimpered to himself. The half-elf drew his dagger from its sheath and ran it along his palm, drawing blood. The pain helped him focus.
With a mighty clap, a lightning bolt coursed down from the clouds above, aimed at the spot where they all stood. But the energy could not penetrate Leng's layers of defenses, and danced like a wreath of fire above their heads before dissipating harmlessly.
Inside the waterfall, something large began to move. The surface of the falling water rippled and changed, slowly taking shape.
"At last!" Leng cried through gritted teeth. "It has come to face me!"
A creature stepped out of the moving curtain, as tall as the waterfall itself and composed entirely of the rushing water, bound in place by some great force of magic. With slow, stately steps it walked out of the waterfall, inexorably moving toward them. It rippled and changed, taking shape.
A gigantic unicorn.
"Obvious choice," Leng said through gritted teeth.
"What is it?" asked Gunton. It splashed forward, its aqueous horn nodding up and down with each step.
"It is the Unicorn Run," Leng said. "The fey spirit of this place—all of its power embodied in a single form."
"How do you fight such a thing?" asked Royce.
"You don't," Ardeth supplied, watching as it came closer.
Leng pulled down a column of flame from the sky, just as he had done to the treant. The fire met the water and coursed along the liquid surface of the unicorn, drawing sharp hisses and releasing a vast plume of steam that rose into the air. The great unicorn shrank back under the attack, clearly harmed in some way, but still came closer.
"What do we do?" shouted Royce to Ardeth. His eyes darted to the banks—everywhere he looked, a unicorn seemed to emerge, showing that the way was barred. "I doubt that this matter is open to discussion, and the unicorns will kill us easily!"
"Don't fight," Ardeth repeated, never taking her eyes off their vast foe.
Their enemy transformed. Its flesh morphed from water to stone, becoming a huge living cliff of brown and red rock, casting a long dark shadow. Its four feet seemed to be planted directly into the ground beneath it. The ground did not shake as it walked; rather, the earth seemed to swell up to embrace it when it stepped on the shore, as the water had when it stepped in the river. All the elements of nature were the same to this creature—its mastery over them was equal.
Leng drew out hidden wands from inside his robes and blasted the rocky beast with bolts of magic. It withstood each strike. The rocks beneath the Antiquarians' feet changed to soft clay, swelling up around their boots. At once, the waters of the river rose until the group was standing ankle deep in the cold water, sending shocks to their brains.
Bessick cursed, turning to Ardeth. "Just what should we do?" he thundered. "If you have all the answers, tell us!"
Ardeth answered with a single word. "Wait."
An unholy purple radiance surrounded Leng's hands, and he cast the energy forward against the stone unicorn. It struck its horn, which trembled under the impact, the tip cracking through and hitting the ground hard. It melted away, sucked back into the earth.
But the creature was undeterred and still walked forward, its shadow creeping ever closer. Ardeth stepped back, water swirling about her ankles, and stood close to Gan, who hadn't even raised the axe that now seemed like a part of him.
"I will protect you, mistress," the hobgoblin said.
"I'm afraid the opposite is true," Ardeth replied.
Leng did not notice—or did not care—that no one aided him in his battle as he spent his magical might on this monumental foe. He was someplace else, feeling his god's full power coursing through him as never before. A lightning bolt crackled out, this time originating from one of the stone eyes of the unicorn, bound directly for Leng's face. It never reached him, however, instead bouncing off an unseen barrier and into the sky. Whatever resistance Leng used against the creature's magic, though, would no longer be effective once the unicorn reached him, and its magical attacks would no longer be needed.
Nithinial sprang into action. Something inside his tortured mind snapped, and he leaped into the air, his dagger clutched in his hand. He sank it into Leng's left shoulder, driving it through bone and flesh.
The priest let out a wail of agony louder than the roaring waterfall. The spell he had been preparing was demolished and his concentration was ruined. Instinctively Leng plucked the dagger out of his shoulder, causing a plume of blood to squirt into the air, flow down his purple robes and spray onto his face.
Racked with pain, Leng spun to face his attacker. "You, elfspawn," he cursed Nithinial, bloody spittle flying from his mouth, "have just killed us all." With one hand he grabbed Nithinial's arm and pulled him forward, and with the other he drove the dagger, slick with his own blood, into the half-elf's neck. The blade slid into place, hilt deep. Nithinial gurgled blood and collapsed.
A fist struck Leng on the side of his head. The priest lost his balance. He kept his footing for a moment, but stumbled backward into the rushing river. The fist was Bessick's, and the blow was meant to push him to a proper distance for the move that would finish him. But when Bessick's chain lashed out, Leng, standing waist-deep in the fast running water, reached out and gripped the chain, its spikes driving through his hands. He pulled with all of his magically-enhanced strength, ripping Bessick from his place to join Leng in the Run.
The great stone unicorn kept coming toward them, undeterred.
Bessick took a lungful of cold water and scrambled to regain his footing, but he could not get back on his feet. Leng stepped forward, plucking his hands from the spikes on Bessick's chain, the blood tingeing the water crimson. He pushed Bessick's head down to the river's muddy bottom with his foot, then let the heavy chain go, pinning him in place. Bessick's struggling soon ceased.