The Well at Deepwater

For: "The Writer's Cramp" .

The beast balked as they approached the town square and the well for which the Deepwater had been named.  Its rear, cloven hooves dug into the hardpan and it lashed out with its forepaws, though the sharp claws remained sheathed.  It seemed reluctant to hurt them and had come along willingly enough at first.  Most of the population being gathered to watch its arrival had soured its temper.

Gavriil tugged on the lead and little Skyjoy murmured something soothing in its ear. Her father pulled her back, away from the creature’s deadly sharp horn.  Its long plumed tail lashed but it continued forward a another step before halting.  Gavriil took it directly by the halter then.  Though it looked a bit like a white deer it was no larger than some of the village dogs. Gavriil was a tall, strong man and used to handling animals.

He was prepared to dodge claws and horn but even as he dragged it to the well it made no effort to harm him, only to escape.

“Stop it,” the girl shouted.  Skyjoy had been most excited to see the unicorn.  Her father had been reluctant to let her help.

“What are you doing?” Skyjoy struggled against her father’s grip but he was even more reluctant to allow her any part in what came next.  None of the townspeople were eager to be a part of this, but at least they weren’t hiding in their homes while he took care of their business.

“Well done!” the town’s wise woman called out in her low, tobacco-graveled voice.  She stepped forward, supporting her limping stride with a cane.  In her free hand a long knife glinted.  “Come Forge, I haven’t the arms for this.”

The town’s leader, called Forge because he was the smith as well, stepped forward and accepted the knife from the wise woman.

Gavriil lifted the creature’s head, and tilted it back to expose the throat.


“What are you doing?” Skyjoy’s voice rose to a shriek and her father was forced to restrain her with both arms to keep her back.  “You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“It’s won’t hurt, it’ll be quick,” Gavriil told her.  “It won’t feel a thing.  What did you think we’d do?  Throw the thing down the well alive?  You need the horn.”

Gavriil had hated that too, lying to Skyjoy.  It wasn’t right to trick a little girl into helping them kill the unicorn.  He wished again he could have just finished the job in the woods, but the wise woman said it had to be used immediately or it would lose potency.

“We could just cut the horn off,” the wise woman admitted.  Hope shone in Skyjoy’s eyes for a moment before the crone added, “The unicorn would live for day or two while the magic drained out it.  Quite agonizing.”

“You’re no knight!” Skyjoy shouted at him and then began to sob.  She turned to hide her face in her father’s shirt.

“I said I wasn’t,” Gavriil snapped back.  He had protested loud and long that he was no ‘sir’ even as he’d agreed to help.  The well was the only source of water for days, without it there was no town.  “Not every man with a sword is a knight.”

Forged stepped forward, holding the knife awkwardly in one hand.  Likely he had been hunting, perhaps even fought off monsters from the town.  This was no hunt and the unicorn fought only to free itself.  He swallowed audibly and his hand quivered.

“I don’t think I can…I mean,” his hand dropped and Gavriil closed his eyes for a moment.

“You hold it then,” Gavriil said and Forge took the halter from him gratefully.  Gavriil stepped back and drew his sword from its sheath and across the unicorn’s throat with a single practiced motion.  It was a motion he’d had to practice on his horse a few days back when it shied into a patch of rocks and broke a leg.  If his horse hadn’t died, then he wouldn’t have needed water and he’d have passed right by Deepwater.  If only his horse hadn’t died.

Blood fountained, as red as any other animal’s, but with an odd spicy scent to it.  Gavriil had stepped out of the way of the worst of it but some still spattered onto his boots and the legs of his pants.  It stained the snowy white fur of the unicorn as well. Forge dropped the halter and moved hastily away.  The unicorn looked even smaller crumpled in the dust.

Gavriil wiped the blood from his sword onto the unicorn’s mane.  The wise woman reclaimed her knife from Forge and began sawing at the base of the unicorn’s horn.  Gavriil turned away to sheathe his sword.  He heard the horn come free with a wet snap that brought acid to the back of his throat.  Deepwater needed the well, the people who lived there needed it to survive, but all Gavriil felt was shame.

“At last,” the woman croaked triumphantly.  “If I’d known it would be so easy, I’d have poisoned the well long ago.”

Gavriil turned and no one had time to do more than stare and perhaps stutter a protest or question before the witch plunged the horn into her own heart.  The horn burst into shining motes of light, leaving behind nothing, not even a wound.  The witch seemed to fade, hunching over.  When she straightened she was young; a beautiful red-haired woman.  Gavriil reached for the hilt of his sword but was forced to duck when she threw her cane at him.

“I do thank you all,” she said with a laugh, then her form melted into a dark clawed shadow and she bounded away.  The dust she kicked up settled in silence onto a tiny white corpse and a poisoned well.

“What will we do?”  Forge asked.  He wasn’t really asking Gavriil, but Gavriil replied anyway.

“I don’t know.”

992 words