Even seasoned warriors working in concert took a long time to bring down each large, fierce wyrm. And for every wyvern felled, it seemed another, fresh foe emerged from one of many entryways to the wyverns’ subterranean dens. Jan glimpsed Tek and Dagg consulting, Ryhenna and Teki leading others to guard the larger entryways, prevent wounded wyverns from escaping back underground, and kill new wyrms as they emerged.

The strategy achieved only partial success. The crumbling limestone of the wyvern shelves made precarious footing for even the most agile of unicorns, and so many entries pocked the surface of the shelves that the guardians could not ward them all. Jan saw many more wyverns enter or emerge. Yet the pied healer and the coppery mare stemmed the flood of wyverns, slowing the pace of reinforcements and hindering safe retreat.

“Where is their fire?” Jan heard Tek crying to Dagg. “Why do they not use it against us?”

“And where is their leader, the wyrmking Lynex?” the dappled stallion whistled back. “Is he too craven to show his seven faces? Would he but show himself, and this whole struggle could be settled here and now!”

“Lynex, you coward!” Jan heard Tek shout down into the largest entryway. “I’d battle you myself, wyrmking. You stole these lands from the late princess Halla centuries ago. You have lived so long only that we unicorns might grow strong enough to take our homeland back again. Show yourself! Come out and face me if you dare!”

As if in answer, a low rumble sounded from the wyverns’ dens. The hollow, deep-throated sound rose from the depths like the howl of stormwind. Thrumming followed, as of mighty limbs pounding the earth. The soft swish of slithering bellies whispered under the concatenation of noise. Startled, the unicorns fell back. The next instant, two dozen of the largest, most powerful wyverns Jan had ever seen rushed from the entryway, fanning out in a great semicircle and beating their paws upon the ground.

The earth shook with their thunderous drumming. Barbed tails thrashed like willow withies whipped by storm. In unison, the white wyrms roared. Each was nearly the size of the huge, three-headed queen Jan had slain years ago in his youth. Not a one of them did not have double heads, and two had third heads sprouting at the base of their necks. All around them, from other egresses, a flood of wyverns poured, all enormous, unwounded and unspent.

Late afternoon sun hung westering. Panting, their coats foaming with sweat, Tek’s warriors stared at the advancing wyrms. Lines of blood streaked some of the unicorns, where wyvern teeth or claws had found their mark. The legs of some trembled, whether from tension or fatigue Jan could not tell. He knew none shook from fear. They had fought full tilt for hours, since before noon. Now, though they gave ground slowly before the howling, stamping wyrms, not a one of them fled.

Suddenly from the entryway, into the half-ring created by his score of gigantic bodyguards, another wyvern emerged, larger even than they. His seven heads arrayed, all their gill ruffs fanned, teeth bared like seven nests of thorny splinters. His long, seven-stinged tail lashed, doubling back upon itself. Massive paws, their nails like swords, impaled the air.

Lynex loomed above his own bodyguards. Gazing at the immense wyrmking, Tek gasped, appalled. Pale skin blazing opalescent in the afternoon sun, the scarred and ancient wyvern was easily twice the size his three-headed queen had been. Turning his baleful, seven-faced gaze toward Tek, the wyvern leader snarled. “Coward?” the largest among his seven pates rumbled. “Little unicorn, you misjudge.”

The visages wove and intertwined, bobbing and slithering one against another as they spoke.

“Do you imagine me a doddard, an old spent thing?” the second-largest face demanded. Its companion, nearly as large, spat, “Think again!”

“Behold my personal bodyguards,” the fourth-largest commanded. Beside it, another, only slightly smaller, added, “We have not yet even begun our battle.”

“What matter our stings no longer fell you,” the second-smallest countenance inquired, “or that our fire burnt out?”

The tiniest maw hissed and slavered, snapping frantically at nothing. “Coward. Doddard. Bodyguards,” it gurgled. “Battle! Stings and fire!”

“I am old beyond counting, hungry and powerful,” the monstrous central head roared. “I have waited a long time for you. Prepare to die, puny, brazen upstarts. killers of my queen. We seized these hills from your ancestors centuries past—and we do not mean to give them up!”

With a shout like rolling thunder, the colossal wyrmking, his bodyguards and all his followers surged forward. Tek stood stock-still, as though riveted by indecision or fear. Steep, precarious shelfland rose before her, the cliffs of the moon’s mere behind. With a jolt, Jan realized what it was his mate surely already saw: if the wyverns succeeded in driving the unicorns back against those cliffs, the wyrms could crush them there and devour them all before the sun had set.

Rally!” Jan shouted, voice echoing hollowly in the vast chamber of the dragon queen. “Tek, rally them—form the crescent and the wedge. Don’t let the wyrms drive you against the cliffs!”

The image before him wavered and rippled apart. Jan’s awareness wrenched back to his surroundings: the dragon’s den, the impossible heat and wavering glow of molten fire. The dark unicorn blinked as Wyzásukitán abruptly moved, lifting her brow high above the young prince’s vision. He stared at her, startled and angry that she should snatch his view of Tek and her peril away. Ramping, he opened his mouth to speak, but Wyzásukitán spoke first.

“Tell me what you have seen, dark prince,” she bade. White smoke of her breath wreathed her whiskered muzzle.

“I see my mate and her band in jeopardy,” Jan answered shortly. “I charge you, lower your brow once more…”

The dragon queen eyed him, brow held regally above, not inclining her head the least measure. She studied him intently, gaze neutral, without malice, but no longer leisurely languid and amused. “Tell me your feelings, dark prince. What at this moment do you feel for your mate?”

“Love, longing, concern,” Jan said without a moment’s thought. “I see danger and would be there to defend her.”

“So you would return to your mate?” Wyzásukitán asked. “And to your folk, whatever the consequence?”

“Aye, of course!” the dark unicorn cried, stamping. Sparks flew. The answer seemed so clear to him. He could not believe he had wandered in such confusion until now. He must return to Tek, rejoin the herd and accept whatever destiny Alma had prepared. The dragon queen looked at him.

“And will you tell your mate Korr’s secret?”

Jan nodded. The answer did not come happily, but come it did and without hesitation.

“And your folk?” Wyzásukitán pressed gently. “You will tell them as well?”

“Of course,” the dark unicorn answered. “I’ll not live a lie, asking Tek to surrender her birthright that I might keep power not mine to hold.”

“You will renounce your kingship?” the dragon queen sighed, white breath curling among her floating whiskers.

Jan nodded. “Aye, for love of her. And for Alma, who is what is: all truth, the Truth of everything that exists. Tek’s parentage is what it is. So, too, my love for her. I must be true to both, and to myself.”

The queen gazed down at him, her thousand thousand jewels glinting in the golden light of the molten lake that seethed beyond chamber’s egress to the rear of Jan. He moved toward her, deeper into the chamber, his heart grown calm, at peace within himself.

“Why do you not ask that I lower my brow?” the dragon queen inquired. “Do you not wish to resume your gaze?”