Excerpt from "The Black Unicorn" By Terry Brooks (1987)
The 1st Time "The Books of Magic" are Mentioned; a project I am hoping to re-create by hand.
Regarding the details of THE BOOKS with the Unicorn Drawings WITHIN THEM:
Evening deepened. He was immersed in catching up on the paperwork that had piled up during his absence when the door to his study flew open, a sudden gust of wind scattered the stacks of documents he had arranged carefully on the work table before him, and the gaunt figure of Questor Thews stalked out of the darkness into the light.
"I have found them, High Lord!" Questor exclaimed with an elaborate flourish of one arm, a canvass-wrapped bundle clutched to his chest with the other. He crossed to where Ben was working and deposited the bundle on the table with a loud thump. "There!"
Ben stared. A rather bedraggled Bunion trudged through the door behind him, clothes torn and muddied. Abernathy appeared as well, nightshirt twisted and night-cap askew. He shoved his glasses in place and blinked.
"It was all just exactly as the dream promised," Questor explained hurriedly, hands working at the canvass wrapping. "Well, not quite as promised. There was the matter of the demon imp hidden in the stonework. A nasty surprise, I can tell you. But Bunion was its equal. Took it by the throat and choked the life out of it. But the rest was just as it was in the dream. We found the passages in Mirwouk and followed them to the door. The door opened, and the room beyond was covered with stonework. One stone had the special markings. It gave at the touch, I reached down and..."
"Questor, you found the missing books?" Ben asked incredulously, cutting him short.
The wizard stopped, stared back at him in turn, and frowned. "Of course I found the books, High Lord. What do you think I have been telling you?" He looked put upon. "Anyway, to continue, I was about to reach down for them — I could see them in the shadows — when Bunion pulled me back. He saw the movement of the imp. There was a terrific struggle between them... Ah, here we are!"
The last fold of canvass fell back. A pair of massive, aged books nestled amid the wrappings. Each book was bound in a leather covering that was scrolled in runes and drawings, the gilt that had once inscribed each marking worn to bits and tracings. Each book had its corners and bindings layered in tarnished brass, and huge locks held the covers sealed.
Ben reached down to touch the cover of the top book, but Questor quickly seized his hand. "A moment, High Lord, please." The wizard pointed to the book's lock. "Do you see what has happened to the catch?"
Ben peered closer. The catch was gone, the metal about it seared as if by fire. He checked the catch on the second book. It was still securely in place. Yes, there was no doubt about it. Something had been done to the first book to break the lock that sealed it. He looked back at Questor.
"I have no idea, High Lord," the wizard answered the unasked question. "I brought the books to you exactly as I found them. I have not tampered with them; I have not attempted to open them. I know from the markings on the covers that they are the missing books of magic. Beyond that, I know no more than you." He cleared his throat officiously. "I... thought it proper that you be present when I opened them."
"You thought it proper, did you?" Abernathy growled, hairy face shoving into view. He looked ridiculous in his nightcap. "What you mean is you thought it safer! You wanted the power of the medallion close at hand in case this magic proved to be too much for you!"
Questor stiffened. "I have significant magic of my own, Abernathy, and I assure you that..."
"Never mind, Questor," Ben cut him short. "You did the right thing. Can you open the books?"
Questor was rigid with indignation by now. "Of course I can open the books! Here!"
He stepped forward, hands hovering over the first of the aged tomes. Ben moved back, his own hands closing on the medallion. There was no point in taking any chances with this sort of...
Questor touched the fastenings, and green fire spit sharply from the metal. Everyone jumped back quickly.
"It would appear that you have underestimated the danger of the situation once again!" Abernathy snapped.
Questor flushed, and his face tightened. His hands came up sharply, sparked, then came alive with a fire of their own — a brilliant crimson fire. He brought his fire down slowly to the metal fastenings, then held it there as it slowly devoured the green fire. Then he brushed his hands together briskly, and both fires were gone.
He gave Abernathy a scornful look. "A rather insignificant measure of danger, wouldn't you say?"
He reached again for the fastenings and pulled the metal clasp free. Slowly he opened the book to the first page. Aging yellow parchment stared back at him. There was nothing there.
Ben, Abernathy, and Bunion pressed forward about him, peering down through the shadows and half-light. The page was still empty. Questor thumbed to the second page. It was empty as well. He thumbed to the third. Empty.
The fourth page was empty, too, but its center was seared slightly as if held too close to a flame.
"I believe it was you who used the word insignificant, wizard?" Abernathy goaded.
Questor did not reply. There was a stunned look on his face. Slowly he began to leaf through the book, turning one blank page after another, finding each sheet of yellowed parchment empty, but increasingly seared. Finally pages began to appear that were burned through entirely. He thumbed impulsively to the very center of the book and stopped.
"High Lord," he said softly.
Ben peered downward at the ruin that lay open before him. A fire had burned the center of the book to ashes, but it was as if the fire had somehow been ignited from within.
High Lord and wizard stared at each other. "Keep going," Ben urged.
Questor paged through the remainder of the book quickly and found nothing. Each sheet of parchment was just like the others — empty save for where the mysterious fire had burned or seared it.
"I do not understand what this means, High Lord," Questor Thews admitted finally.
Abernathy started to comment, then changed his mind. "Perhaps the answers lie in the other book," he suggested wearily.
Ben nodded for Questor to proceed. The wizard closed the first book and set it aside, gloved his hands in the red fire, brought them carefully down, and drew free the green fire that protected the lock on the second book. It took somewhat longer this time to complete the task, for the lock was still intact. Then, the fires extinguished, he released the lock and cautiously opened the book.
🦄
The outline of a unicorn stared back at him. The unicorn was drawn on parchment that was neither yellowed nor seared, but pristine white. The unicorn was standing still, its silhouette perfectly formed by dark lines. Questor turned to the second page. There was a second unicorn, this one in motion, but drawn the same way. The third page revealed another unicorn, the fourth still another, and so on. Questor leafed quickly through the entire book and back again. Each page of the book appeared new. Each page held a unicorn, each drawn in a different pose.
There were no writings or markings of any kind other than the drawings of the unicorns.
"I still do not understand what this means." Questor sighed, frustration etched into his lean face.
"It means these are not the books of magic you believed them to be," Abernathy offered bluntly.
But Questor shook his head. "No, these are the books. The dream said so, the markings on the bindings say so, and they appear as the old stories described them. These are the missing books, all right."
They were silent for a moment. Ben stared thoughtfully at the books, then glanced about until his eyes found the shadowy figure of Bunion peering from behind Questor. The kobold grinned ominously.
Ben looked back again at the books. "What we have here," he said finally, "is one book with unicorns drawn on every page and another book with no unicorns drawn anywhere, but a burned-out center. That has to mean something, for Pete's sake! Questor, what about Willow's dream of a black unicorn? Couldn't the unicorns here have something to do with that?"
Questor considered the possibility for a moment. "I do not see any possible connection, High Lord. The black unicorn is essentially a myth. The unicorns drawn here are not inked in black, but sketched deliberately in white. See how the lines define the features?" He turned a few pages of the second book to illustrate his point. "A black unicorn would be shaded or marked in some way to indicate its color..."
He trailed off, brows knitting tightly in thought. His bony fingers traced the seared lock on the first book delicately. "Why has this lock been broken and the other left intact?" he asked softly, speaking to no one in particular.
"There have not been any unicorns in the valley since its inception, according to the histories of the Kings of Landover," Abernathy interjected suddenly. "But there were unicorns once — a whole raft of them. There was a legend about it, as a matter of fact. Now let me think... Yes, I remember. Just wait here a moment, please."
He hurried from the room, nails clicking on the stone, nightshirt trailing. He was back a few moments later, a book of the royal histories of Landover cradled in his arms. The book was very old and its covers worn.
"Yes, this is the one," the scribe announced. He placed it next to the books of magic, thumbed through it quickly, and stopped. "Yes, right here." He paused, reading. "It happened hundreds of years ago — very close to the time of the valley's creation. The fairies dispatched a large gathering of unicorns into our valley from out of the mists. They sent them here for a very particular reason. It seems that they were concerned about a growing disbelief in the magic in many of the outlying worlds — worlds such as your own, High Lord — " The scribe extended him a disapproving look. " — and they wished to give some sign to those worlds that the magic did indeed still exist." He paused, frowning as he squinted at the aged writing. "I think I have that right. It is difficult to read this clearly because the language is very old."
"Perhaps it is your eyes that are old," Questor suggested, none too kindly, and reached for the book.
Abernathy snatched it away irritably. "My eyes are twice what yours are, wizard!" he snapped. He cleared his throat and went on. "It appears, High Lord, that the fairies sent the unicorns as proof to the disbelieving worlds that the magic was still real. One unicorn was to travel to each of these worlds out of Landover through the time passages." He paused again, read some more, then closed the book with a bang. "But, of course, that never happened."
Ben frowned. "Why not?"
"Because all the unicorns disappeared, High Lord. They were never seen again by anyone."
"Disappeared?"
"I remember that story," Questor declared. "Frankly, it always struck me as a rather strange story."
Ben frowned some more. "So the fairies send a raft of white unicorns into Landover and they all disappear. And that's the last of the unicorns except for a black unicorn that may or may not be real and appears only occasionally from God knows where. Except now we also have the missing books of magic that contain nothing about magic at all — just a lot of drawings of unicorns and some half-burned empty pages."
"One lock broken and one still sealed," Questor added.
"Nothing about Meeks," Ben mused.
"Nothing about changing dogs back into men," Abernathy huffed.
They stared at one another in silence. The books lay open on the table before them — two of magic that didn't seem very magical at all and one of history that told them nothing historically useful. Ben's uneasiness grew. The further they followed the threads of these dreams, the more confused matters got. His dream had been a lie;
Questor's had been the truth. The source of their dreams had been different...
Apparently.
But maybe not. He was not sure of anything just now. It was growing late. The trip back had been a long one, he was tired, and the fatigue dulled his thinking. There wasn't enough time, and he didn't have enough energy to reason it all through tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough. When morning came, they would search out Willow; once they found her, they would pursue this matter of the dreams until they understood exactly what was going on.
"Lock up the books, Questor. We're going to bed," he declared.'
