Beyond Blood - 1

CHAPTER 1: ILLUSTRATING THE SOUL

Terence applied the final stroke of paint before leaning back on his stool, folding his hands behind his head, and pronouncing with satisfaction (and a bit of sadness), “There we are. Perfect.”

On the big canvas mounted in front of him, a lovely, dainty unicorn mare stared back at him, with eyes bluer than the deepest sea. She stood alone under a cluster of trees, with one silver hoof raised just a bit. Her sumptuous moon-white mane and purple coat contrasted starkly with the dark green trees, her silver seashell horn seemed to touch the sky itself, and a number of leaves swirled around her in a sort of dance.

Terence, who had spent well over a month on this project, couldn’t help getting a lump in his throat and a sting in his eyes as he regarded the final result. He almost had to stop himself from reaching out to touch that face—and not just to check whether the paint was sufficiently dry.

“Still at work on that masterpiece, are you, mate?” Tumnus’s voice spoke from behind.

“Just finished,” Terence replied without turning his head. “Feel free to come and tell me what you think.”

A moment later, the faun appeared at his side, with Lucy not two steps behind. Beaver and Edmund were there, too.

“Hey, that’s wonderful, Terence!” Lucy cried, moving closer to the picture at once.

“That is amazing,” said Tumnus, his teal-blue eyes wide and his goat ears twitching in fascination. “All that time and work have really paid off.”

“Thanks, mate,” said Terence with his hands still cradling his head.

“You’re gettin’ to be quite the master of the arts, old boy,” commended Beaver.

“Oh, stop it, Beaver. It’s just a little hobby I picked up.”

“Just a little hobby, you call it?” Beaver’s black bead eyes squinted in disbelief. “You woefully underestimate yourself and your abilities, boy. Y’know that?”

Edmund gave Terence’s back a good-natured slap as he said, “Maybe we ought to commission you to do our royal portraits someday. I’d pay extra money for mine!”

A small smile played on Terence’s lips as he answered, “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer someday.”

“May I ask whose portrait this is?” Lucy asked with her gaze still fixed on the purple unicorn.

“You may, and this is my mother.”

“Your mother?” Tumnus repeated softly, more as a statement than anything else.

“That’s right.”

“She’s so beautiful,” Lucy said. “Her eyes are just like yours, Terence.”

“Thank you, Lucy.”

“I’m surprised you remembered all those details so well,” said Beaver.

“How could I forget her?” Sometimes Terence would have sworn his hand had taken on a mind all its own while it manipulated the brush.

“I’m sorry about what happened to her, mate,” said Tumnus gently. “That’s a truly terrible thing.”

“Me too,” said Lucy, now turning to face Terence fully. “How anyone could harm such a pretty creature on purpose is beyond me.”

Now Terence dropped his hands and slumped forward, murmuring, “Then again, most people had the idea that unicorns were meant to be hunted, and that a unicorn’s beauty only served as a ruse.”

Lucy shook her head in dismay. “A most revolting idea.”

Beaver also shook his head, and Tumnus gave Terence’s right shoulder a light squeeze.

“You know, Terence,” said Edmund at length, “you never did tell us much about your family.”

Terence slowly raised his face to the Just King’s as he countered, “What’s there to tell?”

“Oh, you know, your home, your parents, your grandparents, any siblings if you have them, that sort of thing.”

With a halfhearted shrug, Terence said, “My home wasn’t really that much of a home anyway, not after my mother died. Some unicorns were kind enough to me, but most avoided me altogether. And I never knew my grandparents, or my father, at all. Whether or not they’re still alive is far beyond my realm of knowledge.”

Tumnus tsk-tsked while Beaver muttered, “Oy, that’s a shame.”

“A most terrible shame, indeed,” said Lucy.

Edmund persisted, “Are you sure there isn’t anyone left in your family that you know of, Terence? Not even one?”

After a considerable pause, the white-haired youth confessed, in a tone that was almost inaudible even for Tumnus, “There is one.”

“Oh?” Tumnus pricked his ears in interest. “Who is that?”

“My brother.”

“Older or younger?” asked Edmund.

“Older.”

“What’s his name?” Beaver queried.

“Tristan.”

“Tristan.” Tumnus rolled the name around his tongue as if to sample an exotic flavor. “I like that.”

“What’s he like?” Lucy asked eagerly.

Terence’s second shrug had even less heart than the first. “Tall. Strong. Brown eyes. Bronze coat. Golden mane. Tail long enough to carry like a flag. Black horn. Black hooves. Sticky accent. About as fine a stallion as they come, I suppose.”

Edmund furrowed his brow. “Is that all?”

With a deep sigh, Terence closed his eyes and hid them in his palm for a moment. When he took his hand away and looked up again, he said with better coherence, “Much as I hate to say it, Edmund, he and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye. So I avoided him as much as I could help it.”

“It couldn’t have been as bad as all that,” said Lucy, “could it?”

“Wish I could say it wasn’t, but it was. Sure, we had our civil moments here and there. But on the whole, he and I had next to nothing to do with one another.”

After another awkward silence, Beaver mumbled, “Well…erm…sorry to hear that, too, my boy.”

“Me too,” Tumnus whispered.

Edmund just looked at Lucy, and she looked at him, both remembering how they’d often fought and snubbed one another when they were younger. Even so, no matter how serious the quarrel, each had always known the other one had always cared.

Getting to his feet, Terence said (for an obvious change of subject), “Well, this artist has worked up an appetite. What do you say to some lunch, mates?”

“Sounds great,” said Edmund, his face instantly brightening. “I know I could eat an entire gryphon right about now.”

“Better not let a gryphon hear you say that,” said Lucy with an impish wag of her finger.

“You should see today’s menu,” said Tumnus as they all headed out of the little chamber together. “They’ve got roast chicken, bread, potatoes—”

“And sardines?” Lucy cut in.

The faun grinned. “By the bucketload!”

“What is it with you and sardines, anyhow?” asked Edmund, making a slight grimace. “Personally, I never developed a taste for those things.”

Terence rejoined, “That’s because you have underdeveloped taste buds, my friend.”

“You know the old saying, mateys,” said Beaver. “Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day; give a man a bad fish and he’ll swear off fish for the rest of his life.”