Golden Unicorn: Rise of the Mythix 1 Read online

  First published by Allen & Unwin in 2019

  Text copyright © Anh Do, 2019

  Illustrations by Chris Wahl, 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  ISBN 978 1 76052 513 2

  eISBN 978 1 76087 244 1

  Cover design by Jo Hunt and Chris Wahl

  Text design by Jo Hunt

  Set by Jo Hunt

  For Summer, Leon, Luc and Xavier, you guys are my heroes.

  Anh

  For Ella, Alyssa and Sienna.

  Inspirational nieces and intrepid readers.

  Chris

  Contents

  1 The Cup and the Ring

  2 Kelly Swift

  3 LifeScape

  4 Prophecies and Portents

  5 Hornets

  6 Dark Thoughts

  7 Transformation

  8 A Moment in Time

  9 Clothes and a Couple of Bucks

  10 Good Friends

  11 The Seeker of Lost Things

  12 The Greenhouse

  13 The Golden Unicorn

  14 Ancient Greek

  1

  The Cup and the Ring

  William James, the Soul Collector, sat on one of his many thrones in one of his many castles, sipping from a golden chalice. As crystal-clear water trickled down his throat and seeped into his blood, a familiar glow filled him from head to toe. He felt soothed and strong, and knew a moment of calm.

  It did not last.

  When it came to his anaemia, his asthma, and the host of other ailments he’d suffered since childhood, being reminded of their existence was enough to sour his mood. He wanted them gone forever, not just repressed by daily ritual. It only took a short time between doses for them to grow strong again.

  All his power, all his wealth, and William still could not conquer his own body.

  He ran a finger around the chalice’s rim. He remembered the first time he’d held it, as sand poured forth to join the desert breeze. Golden sands from a golden cup. The billions of dollars he had spent on the world’s greatest treasure hunt had finally paid off. To this day he could not quite believe he’d managed it.

  He had found … the Holy Grail.

  There had been an unexpected object in the Ark too – a most welcome discovery. William tapped it now against the Grail with a tink tink tink – a band of dark metal curled like a serpent around his middle finger.

  Lucifer’s Ring. He’d sensed its power immediately, felt it whisper to his soul. His first act had been to weave it through the air and conjure enormous tigers from the shifting sands. He had laughed as they leapt about, his workers watching in terror.

  It amused William to think that these artefacts of Heaven and Hell were here together, their forces united in defiance of their creators. They had been his good friends for two decades – more reliable than people, who came and went. Their arcane power had helped him take control of the Northern Kingdom. Now his rule was absolute.

  Still, he always wondered – were there more incredible things lying beneath the surface of the earth?

  There had to be.

  He would rip it all up if he had to. Every last bit. A true collector did not stop.

  ‘The Chief Archaeologist,’ announced one of the Kingdom Guards at the entrance archway.

  William was annoyed to be shaken from his musings, but when he saw Stanley Solomon enter the throne room with a wooden crate, he licked his lips in anticipation.

  ‘Ah, Stanley. You return from your dusty adventures?’

  ‘From Athens, sire.’ Stanley adjusted his half-moon spectacles. He was sixty-five, but his hair was thick, blond and curly. Well tanned from all his time spent on dig sites, the lines on his face were deep and defined. He had been a proud man once – before William had put him in his place.

  ‘We’ve been searching the Library of Pantinos,’ said Stanley, setting the crate down on a display table. He began to produce carefully wrapped objects and laid them out for examination.

  William made his way down the dais steps, his leather robe – made from the hide of the world’s only albino rhinoceros – swishing around his thin frame. He cast his grey eyes over an ornate candelabrum, a broken tablet, a vase depicting a raging Minotaur …

  William picked up the candelabrum and turned it over in his hand, smiling. ‘To my castle in Ganze with this one,’ he said. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘The excavations continue, sire. There was also a vault of ancient manuscripts, which I’ve sent for restoration.’

  William sniffed. He had no love of books. That was why he kept people like Stanley.

  ‘Might they contain clues as to the whereabouts of … worthier objects?’

  ‘Perhaps, Soul Collector. Many of them are very fragile. Time will tell.’

  There came the sound of marching feet. Captain Aiken, William’s most trusted officer in the Kingdom Guard, arrived flanked by her Elites. She was tall, with an angular face and chin-length brown hair. She wore black body armour that, like all KG uniforms, had a yellow stripe across the chest and a golden grail insignia at the shoulder.

  Aiken shoved a small boy forward.

  ‘Ah,’ said William, in a light tone. ‘And what do we have here?’

  The boy began to cry.

  ‘Found him in the Agricultural Zone,’ said Aiken. ‘His parents were doctoring the pictures of him they posted on LifeScape.’

  William stared down at the boy. He was fair-haired, about four or five, with his head bowed. He seemed … unremarkable.

  ‘What am I looking at, Captain?’

  Aiken gave the boy a sharp kick. ‘Eyes open, boy. Look the Collector in the face.’

  The boy turned his gaze upwards, and William’s heart fluttered. The boy had differently coloured eyes! One was crystalline blue and the other bright orange.

  ‘Amazing,’ William said. ‘Simply amazing. You have done well, Captain Aiken.’

  ‘My pleasure to serve, sire.’

  The boy’s fear contorted his face in an unappealing fashion, but William would correct that soon enough.

  ‘So many unusual occurrences lately,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Differently coloured eyes are nothing new, but orange? That’s a strange one. What do you think, Stanley?’

  ‘Sire?’

  ‘Why is the world changing so fast?’ said William. ‘Why are there more and more of these … unique finds?’

  Stanley’s gaze slid into the middle distance. ‘If I had to guess, sire, I’d say it might be because we’re opening sites of ancient magic all over the place.’

  William smiled thinly. There was no rebuke in the man’s voice – Stanley had been careful to maintain a measured tone ever since the unfortunate incident – but his meaning was clear.

  ‘Bring me a canvas,’ William snapped.

  He watched Stanley’s brow give the tiniest twitch. Although the Chief Archaeolo
gist might try to hide it, William knew his revulsion at what was about to happen.

  William didn’t care. Perhaps they had been … friends … once, but if such friendship had ever existed, it certainly didn’t now.

  A servant set a framed canvas on an easel down carefully at William’s side.

  ‘What’s your name, little boy?’ said William. ‘I need a title.’

  The boy sniffled.

  ‘Roland Hill,’ said Aiken.

  Without another word, William lifted his right hand, palm towards the canvas. On his middle finger, Lucifer’s Ring glowed warm. He held his left hand out towards the boy and made a beckoning motion, as if drawing something out. Suddenly, colour drained from the boy, who gasped and almost fell to his knees. Aiken grabbed him by the collar and held him upright.

  The colour passed through the air into William’s left hand and then reappeared from his right, streaming out towards the canvas. There it pooled, and began to take shape. William continued moving his beckoning fingers across the boy, taking his hair, his clothes, his face. Where Roland had been rosy-cheeked, he was now turning translucent.

  ‘William …’ said Stanley.

  ‘Silence!’ snapped William.

  Within moments, all that remained of the boy was two eyes floating in the air, still blinking in fear.

  William always left the best till last.

  With a snatching motion, he drew forth the eyes, spots of blue and orange flying through the air. He felt a delicious tingle as they passed through him and sank into the canvas, taking their place once again in the boy’s face.

  Roland Hill gazed out from the picture frame as if he had been painted in vibrant oils by a highly skilled artist. William had adjusted him slightly, so that he now smiled happily, his features frozen in an expression of youthful innocence.

  ‘Without me,’ William said, ‘his beauty would have been transitory. Now he is immortal.’

  He sighed, drinking in the sight of Roland’s miraculous eyes.

  Stanley said nothing, and Aiken bowed low.

  ‘Send him to Oak Castle,’ said William. ‘That gallery is where I keep my most remarkable children. He will hang there nicely, beside the little girl with the silver hair.’

  Servants scuttled in to pick up the frame.

  William was energised. The adrenaline of this latest acquisition, this remarkable find, coursed through every vein, invigorating his imagination, sating his need to acquire.

  And yet, the feeling was – as always – too short-lived.

  Immortalising the boy had done nothing but whet his appetite for more. For the next find. His next treasure.

  William sometimes wondered if he’d ever find an object that would finally fill that groaning, empty part of him, that nothingness. The void that no painting, no priceless artefact, no magic object had yet been able to fill.

  ‘I need something more substantial,’ William announced. ‘Ready my jet. We leave in an hour to chase the sunrise.’

  He turned and strode off towards his quarters. Let Stanley stare daggers at his back – the old man could do nothing to stop him.

  Out of sight of the throne room, William slowed down to enjoy the exhibits in the alcoves that he passed. There were the gloves of King Midas, Charon’s oar, moss-stained tablets from the lost city of Atlantis, the steering wheel of Noah’s Ark …

  Treasures from all of history, all of legend, each of them sparked a glimmer of warmth in his cold heart.

  Every society and culture was so sure their beliefs were true, William mused, often to the exclusion of all others. What none of them realised, in their shortsightedness and stupidity, was a simple fact.

  They were all true.

  William smiled. It made for good hunting!

  What else – who else – was out there, waiting to join his collection?

  2

  Kelly Swift

  Kelly stood at the mouth of a dark alley, making up her mind.

  She couldn’t stand it for one more minute. She had to know.

  Kelly was a competitive sprinter before she’d dropped out of high school, and was always much faster than the other students – unnaturally fast. Her mother, Hannah, had grown sick with worry that someone would notice Kelly’s gift and report it to the authorities. She had begged Kelly to fake a loss, and then, eventually, to quit athletics altogether. To pretend to be unremarkable.

  Kelly had done as her mother had asked, and went through high school as nobody special. Now she cleaned at a supermarket called Clyde’s in the afternoons, just another Citizen of the Kingdom.

  But it kept getting harder. Every day she repressed the urge to run, to leap, to pelt headlong down the street. But right now it felt like ripples of energy were pulsing through her calves.

  The long, straight alley seemed to call to her.

  Could she risk it? She couldn’t see any security cameras on the walls. And, for a reason she couldn’t quite explain, she could sense, for sure, that no one else was down there.

  The energy needed – demanded – an outlet. She had to run.

  Kelly paused, feeling her heart thumping with fear.

  She hated her own hesitation. Why was she terrified to exercise even the most simple desire – to run?

  The answer, of course, was the Soul Collector.

  Even the thought of his name made her blood chill. And yet there was another feeling there too. Anger, perhaps? Why should some guy in a faraway castle scare me so much? Kelly scolded herself.

  Then, before she knew it, she broke into a sprint.

  Blurs of dumpsters and rubbish zipped past her in the dark as she leapt over a pothole and swerved around a fire escape. The air through her nostrils brought with it sensory clues about the obstacles ahead. Had she always been so aware of her surroundings? She wasn’t sure. In that moment, she didn’t care.

  She realised she was still holding back, and flung herself into a headlong dash.

  Adrenaline pumped through her. Her footfalls pounded the ground and propelled her with incredible force, unleashing the pent-up energy. Her golden ponytail whipped into a frenzy, and she reached up to tear it loose, letting her mane fly free.

  Deep inside, Kelly knew she was running faster than anyone should be able to.

  She felt alive. She laughed and, as a fast-approaching pile of garbage threatened to block her way, she jumped up and ran across the wall beside it, then slammed back to the ground without losing a step.

  A main road, full of people and security cameras, loomed ahead. She skidded to a halt and, in a split second, spun around and tore back the way she’d come.

  ‘Woohoo!’ she cried.

  She eventually skidded to a stop by the alley entrance, suddenly fearful again. Her breathing was slightly heavy; whether from running or adrenaline, she didn’t know.

  How did she look? She felt her hair, which had flared out wildly around her head.

  Cursing herself for tossing her hair tie away, she fished in her pockets and was relieved to find a spare – she was used to carrying spares, her hair was hard to restrain at the best of times.

  She fixed herself up as best she could and took a deep breath. Out on the street, people hurried by in the light, heads down. None of them wanted any trouble.

  As casually as she could, Kelly stepped out of the alley and joined the flow, making her way home.

  3

  LifeScape

  It was only once she was safely inside her building that a wave of fear and regret washed over Kelly. She’d been reckless today. Too reckless.

  No one should be able to move the way I can, Kelly thought, pressing the button marked ‘5’ in the flickering light of the lift. It wasn’t normal. She wasn’t normal. And in the Northern Kingdom, ‘not normal’ was a very dangerous thing to be.

  Absently, Kelly scratched an itch on her forehead and felt a small lump.

  Strange, she thought. Had she banged her head in the alley and not even noticed?

  The lift opened
onto a narrow corridor lit by fluorescent lights and lined by metal doors.

  Kelly trekked along to her apartment and placed a hand on the scanner. The door ground open, bits of rust scraping off as it slid into the wall.

  She entered the hallway and was relieved to hear the sound of her mother watching TV in the living room. She didn’t want to answer questions about her frayed look.

  ‘Kelly?’ her mum called.

  ‘Hey, Mum. Gotta dump my stuff.’

  ‘Dinner in half an hour.’

  In her bedroom, Kelly took off her jeans and looked down at her legs. They felt so powerful she half expected to see them covered in bulging muscles and rippling veins, but they just looked like regular legs.

  Kelly changed into trackpants and sat down at her computer. She was due to upload her mandatory selfie for the week. She logged in to LifeScape and pictures of her friends appeared in her feed. She hadn’t seen much of anyone since leaving high school – but social media was a way to remember their faces, at least.

  Scattered through the personal updates were a few news articles:

  Nurse Awarded 10k for Reporting Co-worker!

  Top Ten Reasons to Join the KG!

  Then Kelly saw an article that made her stop scrolling. It was shared by one of her co-workers at Clyde’s, a guy called Sid. He was a quiet type who mostly worked the check-outs.

  She couldn’t believe what she was reading.

  Soul Collector to Blame for Shortening Days!

  Questions have arisen over the cause of shortening daylight hours, a phenomenon first observed early last year. Reports have now emerged that Kingdom ruler William James, aka ‘the Soul Collector’, has developed a penchant for ‘painting’ sunrises. Sources claim that, as a result, small amounts of daylight are being deleted from the universe – which has done nothing to deter William James from continuing with his practices! As his dark magic grows ever … (click to read more)