Free The Prophecy by Hilari Bell Page A

voice scaled up. “You led us to the death-sleep marsh?”
    “Near to it,” said Prism apologetically. “But, we’ll go around, I assure you. It’s very dirty.” She shivered.
    “In Polidanus on Potions I read that the black bog never does anything except make people sleep,” said Perryn. “Didn’t people use the water for sleeping potions?”
    “They did,” Lysander admitted. “But the water also makes you sleep if it touches your skin. Too many people came for a sleeping potion, got their feet wet, and fell in and drowned. Sometimes in just a few inches of water, because no one dared to pull them ashore lest they be splashed. That’s how it got its reputation. And why no one in their right mind goes there now.” He glared at Prism.
    “Don’t be so timid,” said the unicorn. “If it weren’t muddy, I could purify the water for hundreds of yards. Maybe even the entire swamp. But since you’re afraid, I’ll take you around it.”
    “But we could still get some of the water,” said Perryn. “Couldn’t we?”
    “Trouble sleeping?” the bard asked ironically. “Death will cure insomnia, that’s for sure. Are you out of your mind?”
    “Who knows what we’ll face when we go looking for the Sword of Samhain? A sleeping potion might be useful.”
    “Why are you two looking for the Sword of Samhain?” Prism asked curiously.
    “Dragon’s teeth! You’re not going on with this prophecy foolishness, are you? We almost got killed in that forest!” Lysander said.
    “But we didn’t,” said Perryn. “And we found a unicorn. The prophecy is coming true, Lysander! Can’t you see it? With Prism to purify the marsh water, what risk is there?”
    “You want me to go into the black bog? All that mud? Never!” Prism sprang to her feet.
    The bard tackled her as she leaped for the forest.
     
     
    “ BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND !” PRISM WAILED . Her hooves skidded in the soft earth as Perryn and Lysander dragged her onward. “It isn’t just the mud. I’ll be darkened. I’ll start to vanish!”
    Her shoulder slammed into Perryn and he slipped on the spongy ground and almost fell. Only his grasp on the unicorn’s neck saved him.
    Prism had fainted when Lysander caught her. Perryn and the bard had carried the unconscious unicorn to the very edge of the marsh before she came to. She was curiously light for a creature her size, but her struggles were mighty.
    “You’d get less dirty if you stopped fighting, you stupid jackass,” the bard complained, pushing her from behind.
    “We’re not asking you to do anything except save us if we fall in,” Perryn argued, pulling on her mane. “You promised us—”
    “I agreed to heal you,” Prism panted. “No one said anything about saving.” She bucked. The bard tottered and yelped again.
    “But you’re in no danger,” Perryn protested. “You can purify the water—it can’t hurt you.”
    “That’s what you think!”
    Prism’s head went down and her back legs lashed out. The bard yelped. There was an enormous splash, then silence.
    Perryn pushed past the unicorn to where the bard had stood. The shallow pool, mere inches deep, had been concealed by the reeds. The bard lay in it, unmoving…face down.
    “Lysander!” Perryn started forward.
    “Don’t!” A spiraled horn barred his path, like a guardsman’s lance. “He’s soaked. You’d only fall asleep yourself.”
    “But he’ll drown! Maybe I can pull him out with a stick.” Perryn glanced around frantically, but he saw nothing large enough to serve the purpose.
    Prism shivered delicately and stepped into the water. The ripples that spread from her dainty hooves caught the moonlight like mirrors.
    She bent her neck and dipped her horn into the pool, thrusting it beneath the bard’s unconscious body. With a graceful heave she lifted her head. The bard slid down her neck and back into the water.
    Perryn reached for him.
    “No.” Prism lowered her head again. This time the bard’s limp