The Prophecy by Hilari Bell Page A

Perhaps…No, he wouldn’t go creeping home! If he didn’t prove that the prophecy was true, he’d never have any hope of earning his father’s respect. And Cedric will kill me.
    With hands that shook, Perryn reached up and pulled down the notice. He had to keep Lysander from seeing one of these. Why had he told the bard who he really was? It was too late to lie now, but as long as the bard already thought Perryn was lying he would continue with the quest. If he learned the truth…. Perryn crumpled the paper and went looking for the blacksmith’s shop. Forge fires were kept burning all night. In a few moments the poster would be ash, and tomorrow they’d be safely into the forest of Wyr.
    After that…Perryn decided to deal with the future when it arrived.
     
     
    LYSANDER MADE ENOUGH MONEY THAT NIGHT TO fill both their satchels with food. He also purchased two long coils of rope.
    “If we have to leave the road for a short distance,” he said, “we can tie this to a tree and be sure of getting back. Besides, it never hurts to have rope when you’re hunting.”
    They had come south as well as east in the last few days and the weather had been warmer. Everfresh was blooming everywhere. Perryn made his cloak into a rough bag. It was full of flowers by the time they reached the outskirts of Wyr forest.
    “I passed through here once.” The bard peered uneasily into the green-roofed tunnel. “I didn’t leave the road. No reason to. I’d forgotten how uncanny it is.”
    Perryn shrugged off his own uneasiness. “It’s just trees. Watch for tracks like the one I drew for you. That will probably be our first sign.”
    He hoped he’d remembered them accurately. A good memory was one of the marks of a scholar.
    Birds sang in the branches above them and small creatures moved in the undergrowth.
    “How can it be so noisy and feel so still?” Perryn murmured.
    “Maybe because there’s no wind.” The bard didn’t sound convinced.
    They camped that night right in the middle of the road. Perryn made one half-hearted objection about blocking the path and then conceded. Lysander looked longingly back the way they had come.
     
     
    ON THE SECOND DAY , THE ROAD CROSSED A BRIDGE over a stream and Perryn saw the first unicorn tracks. His shout of triumph echoed in the quiet wood. He leaped from the road and knelt eagerly in the soft earth beside the water. “Look, they’re exactly like the picture. Exactly!”
    “What makes you so sure? You said you drew it from memory.” Lysander stood on the road, scowling down at him.
    “It’s a cloven hoof, but round instead of wedge shaped like a deer’s. They’re exactly like Ebron described them. What else could they be? We have to follow them!”
    “Into the woods?” said the bard. “Not me, Your Highness.”
    “But we must! At least far enough to set a trap. You can tie your ropes to a tree and we won’t leave the rope—I promise. That’s what you brought them for, remember?”
    “I’ve changed my mind.”
    “But it was your idea! Oh, very well, I’ll go myself. Tie the ropes together. You take one end, I’ll take the other, and if I get into trouble I can yank on the rope.”
    “If,” Lysander muttered.
    Perryn walked resolutely to the edge of the road, where he selected a sturdy pine and tied the end of one of the ropes to it. He tested the knot.
    “Oh, all right,” Lysander grumbled. “You follow the tracks and I’ll follow you. I’d like to keep the road in sight if we can.”
    “Excellent!”
    Perryn set off on the trail of the unicorn. The tracks were so clear that even an inexperienced tracker could follow them.
    “I’ve read that unicorn magic is so strong it purifies the earth they walk on.” He walked rapidly, his eyes on the ground. “These tracks look fresh. Do you think they could be? Or is some sort of—”
    “I can’t see the road anymore,” the bard interrupted. “It was there just a minute ago.”
    “Is your rope still