James keeps half an ear on Kallum's questioning, at least for a moment.  James first thought is that Kallum is on the right track.  His second and third thoughts are somewhere else entirely as his gaze fixes intently on an empty patch of air.

The enemy officer starts giving a run-down of his orders, with only occasional prompting from Kallum...

"We were to take the stair and hold it until Za'afiel arrived.  He's some sort of general - not The General, but a general.  Answers to nobody but the Ruler himself.  No, I've never met him, but I've heard tell that nobody can stand before him without being terrified."

"Most of the army is down in the forest, and getting mauled, from what I've heard.  Tales of men riding cats as big as horses, and horses as big as houses.  I was glad when we were assigned an actual target to seize.  We've spent days pretty much walking in circles down there.  It's almost as if they brought us here without knowing why they did it."

He coughs, and Kallum allows him a little water, "They say that Za'afiel will change all that, but they said that about The General too, and he never showed up."

Ah, James!  A fine thing that you have come through your battle in one piece.  And with prisoners, yet!  Relief tinges the link, followed by respectful approval.  Then Cyan grows more serious.  Indeed...I am told an orb this size would contain the energies of many worlds.  Such a release would likely shatter the world upon which we stand, and - based on Harbonah's ploy - cause a chain reaction through reality when enacted in conjunction with the other orbs.

Consider the breaks, leading in a line across the Myriad Worlds, cracking That Which Is.  Wounding it.  Then a sudden blow, a massive eruption of power at five particular points.

I do not know if this is Harbonah's exact plan, but certainly it seems to be something along these lines.  My hope is to remove their weapon entirely - I will attempt to capture the orb.  Perhaps we can hold it, or bleed off its forces somehow.  Perhaps...the breaks...perhaps with the proper focusing agents, the proper powers in alignment to act as lenses...

For an instant an image seeps in of the breaks being healed, of the wound to the Myriad Worlds sealed over.

No.  Too dangerous.

Her attention focuses, this time upon James.  For an instant, as the conection drops, Cyan scrabbles to re-establish it, sighing in relief when James removes the helm.

Impressive work, that armor.  Most robust, but mobile, I would expect.  I wonder at the material.  Not laen, surely?  Curious helm...symbolic, yes?  And a...a 'gun'.  *images of weapons firing for an instant - bullets, beams, fire*  Yes, I believe I understand such things.

Your armor has arrived in the teeth of time, James - I thank your benefactor, whomever they may be.  Profusely!

She falls to silence again as James relates his incredible encounter.  Wonderment suffuses the link as the story unfolds.  By heaven, James.  You have stepped into legends, to stand with them yourself!  They will sing songs of this day in Amber, or so they should.  The Unicorn...one of the mysteries of the Myriad Worlds, symbol of Amber, bastion of order, itself. 

Berd has spoken - once or twice - of the beast, whispered of its place.  And you...you healed it?  Through the use of the Great Pattern of Amber?  This is something of which I have never heard, not even a peep!  Small wonder the land itself came to your aid, James - proud and lucky am I to have known you, myself!

Oh indeed, they will make songs of your act.  I wish I had the time to do so myself....

There comes a break, a momentary discontinuity, as if Cyan's mind has leapt elsewhere.  Then,

But there is no such time.

What will you do now, James?  Join us?  Find one of the five places Harbonah plans to plant a gravestone for the Myriad Worlds?  Or stand to defend Amber?  She hesitates. We could use your assistance.  Your thoughts, your strengths, and yes, your newly grown Power.

Healing.  Something I had not considered for the Myriad Worlds...until today.

Kallum glances at James, who seems distracted, then returns his attention to the prisoner, "Well, that's a start at least.  How many of your people are on the mountain?  Do you have a rally point?"  The officer looks puzzled, so kallum explains, "A spot to gather again if you get split up?"

"Ah, a meetplace.  Yes, we have one, a couple of miles west from here and much lower on the mountain.  There are some fifty and a hundred of my people on their way up here, plus about half that number of T'chuk, if they haven' all fled or been killed - we passed a few of their dead on the road up."

James listens intently as Cyan explains the implications of the Orb.

Perhaps.  Perhaps, you are right.  Controlling the release of such energy would be... I don't know.  It's on such a scale I scarcely know how to describe it.  And contemplating the deed, well.

"But healing the Myriad Worlds?  A splendid goal.  If, and it's a big if, you were to attempt it, my technique might be useful.

It occurred to me some time ago, the similarities between a wounded body and a Broken Pattern.  I can work some minor healing by visualising the injuries as 'breaks' and 'walking' them.  Sort of like the Pattern is a map of a healthy body.

Only, the Pattern is a template for the Myriad Worlds, so the same principle should apply.

James' enthusiasm for the subject is reined in abruptly.  You realise the 'simple' way of thwarting Harbonah, don't you?  If the position of the Orbs is so critical, destroy the site, beyond repair.  To a continental, even planetary scale.  A small sacrifice, to save the Myriad Worlds.  James sudden smile seems incongruous, till he continues, And utterly unacceptable.

James breaks off for a moment, turning his attention briefly to Kallum's questioning before concentrating again on the link.

Give me a moment here, Cyan, then bring me through.  There's enough of Harbonah's forces here to keep everyone busy.  Nicely distracted, I'm sure.  But if our friend here is telling the truth then Morgan and my uncle Julian are giving them a bloody nose in Arden and I think we've enough men here to handle this attack.  Turns out there may only be a single Archon commanding the enemy forces.  Have you heard of Za'afiel?

Sorry, getting distracted.  Amber should be okay, I think, and I can't handle Seraphim on my own so I reckon I'll be of most use with you.  I just need to tell Kallum to pass on to Random and the others what you've discovered about the Orbs.  The traitor will have to wait, I've nothing much to go on anyway.

Actually, I've a thought.  I hate to ask this, but could you pretend to be The General for a moment.  The troops here are dupes, same as all the others.  I'd like to try and turn these if I can; it might save some lives.

Controlling the energy release will be nigh-impossible, but we have accomplished much, and grown greatly.  Between all of us, I believe we have a hope.  How much of a hope is open to debate, and must be considered...once we have the orb.

*laughter*

You never change, James, for which I am eternally grateful.  'Might' be useful?  If we make this attempt, your newfound power would prove critical!

A fascinating concept, and an apt analogy.  Is it possible that 'healing' the worlds through the use of the Pattern would unbalance the Myriad Worlds with the force of Order?  Or...if you are simply returning them to their original aspect, would this not be an issue?

*exasperation*

So many questions!  We need swift answers.

But James' final solution for the Harbonah problem sobers and calms her.  Indeed.  Such a small, intolerable sacrifice.  I know you postulate it as a strategic theory, nothing more.  Berd could easily shatter the exact place they have prepared without serious harm to the world, but that would not stop them.  He could cinder this world, as Dorian *pain* did, but he will not.  Nor would I ask him.

Worry not, James.  I will not carry through any such plan.

She listens to James requests, her mind at furious work, striving to recall.

Za'aphiel.  I know the name...Berd...

Memories, coloured by an alien perception - Berd's, not hers.  Memories of the struggle at Nairans, worlds away from where James was meeting The General.

Simultaneously, lightning strikes upward from the cloud - twin bolts that pass the Archons and stop, high above them.  The electricity dances, then coalesces into two forms.  One is shadowed, a piece of the night sky given form and wings, surrounded by flickering, amythest flame...

...The Archon pulses, and a circle of light splays out from it, and a million voices chant a Word.  The dark angel becomes as transparent as crystal, and shatters into a glittering dust, even as its counterpart cleaves the eshurianti in twain...

...The Drake stares expressionlessly at the space where the dark angel fell.  Goodbye, Zaph.  Again....

Cyan's mental voice returns after the flood of memory from Berd.

Za'aphiel is the name of a spirit of destruction.  There have been some corrolations between Archon names and these names that Berd knows; if so, it is no doubt a Seraphim of power.

We have...*checks*...a short time before the Orb arrives.  I will come to you in the General's form, and can bring us both back through the Palanquet.  Tell your people not to be concerned - I will bring Archons.  When you are prepared, bring me through.

*ironic amusement*

It will be a trip down memory lane for you and I.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:11, Tue 12 Apr 2011.

James reaches out a hand, and there is a sudden rainbow nimbus in the air around him.

And in an instant, he is not alone.  A fully armoured warrior stands there, clad in jet and gold plate, with a monstrous snake-haired visage embossed upon the cuirass.

A moment later two spinning wheels of gleaming metal are hovering above the two human figures.  One is primarily steel grey, with splashes of colour on some of the vicious shards which compose its form.  The other is much more colourful.  Both whir and hum like swarms of angry hornets.

Behind James, Kallum's men, and the prisoners, all recoil in fear...

"What the hell is going on here?"

The armored figure steps forward, voice echoing from the helm, the diction, the cadance, the vocabulary so different from Cyan's.  But the tone is far more exasperated than angry, and her gauntleted hands are empty.  "James."  One reaches out to clasp the soldier's shoulder for an instant, then the General turns to confront the prisoners.  "Dear gods.  Don't tell me...you attacked?"

+ SO IT WOULD SEEM, GENERAL. +  Right is no Left, but he is capable of subtlety from time to time, and certainly has a good memory.  For an instant he hovers still in the air, his attention on the one who brought them through.  Then the brilliant danioti swoops and flickers about the General, a mercurial, shifting cloud of edges.  + IF WE OFFERED THE HEADS OF WHAT REMAINS OF THE ARMY, IT MIGHT PROVE SUFFICIENT TO - +

"No."  The General drags off her helmet and runs metal-encased fingers through her hair, raking the prisoners with her ebony gaze.  Then the obsidian eyes turn to James.  "Please explain, James.  I'll warrent you'll be needing an apology after this...debacle.  An apology and more."

+ PERHAPS THE HEADS? +

"No, blast it!"

Even James, who had expected something of the sort, was taken aback by Cyan's appearance.  The Warrior in Jet and Gold was, unhappily, just as he remembered but he had not thought she would bring Archons.

James recovers himself quickly and directs his attention first to Kallum.  "It's okay, Kallum, I know what I'm doing.  Tell the men to stand down."  James speaks calmly, in blythe (and deliberate) disregard of the fact that his troops look more likely to flee than attack.

It also buys James a moment to think.  He had thought to show the jade-armoured warriors that the General had turned against Harbonah and convince them to do the same.  Cyan seemed to be acting as though she still commanded the army.  James was tempted to let her run with it, except that she had asked for a response.

"As you say, General, they attacked." James pauses briefly, unable to resist winding up Right, if only for a moment.  "They were commanded by Za'aphiel to assault the stair.  Fortunately, perhaps, they failed.  I had thought perhaps they might relay your order to stand down to the rest of the army.  Those who present themselves to the King for...re-assignment might avoid a lot of needless bloodshed and maybe earn back a little goodwill."

James leaves things as vague as he dares to give the Bard space to improvise.

The enemy officer falls to his knees, as Kallum raises a hand, and murmurs to his own troops "Steady lads.  James says these are friends, and I trust him, even if I don't rightly trust these friends of his, yet."

The kneeling officer, his head bowed, speaks up, "Command me.  What will you have of me, General?"  As the officer confirms that this is, indeed, the General, a susurrus of awe, and no little fear, runs through the remainder of his force.  One by one, they too, kneel.  And one man dares to raise his head and call out, "Aye, command us General.  We're all bloody sick of taking orders from the demons."

Once the words are spoken, a chorus of assent comes from the others.

Right whines in the air, blades screaming for an instant as they shift within him.  Annoyance?  Amusement?  + AND WHAT OF NEEDFUL BLOODSHED, MESSENGER? +

"Right...by Za'aphiel, James?"  The General turns to study 'her' men, frowning as one of them offers his own opinion on the matter.  "Demons?"  She waves her hand at Right and his cohort.  "Not so.  But I understand your fears."

Swivelling, she paces back and forth before them.  "You have been ill-used, men.  A schism has occurred among the Archons - those who have given you your orders, Za'aphiel one of them, would wring everything from your people: blood, sweat and tears.  It is most fortunate James contacted me.  I would never have known of your plight."

Right, wisely, remains silent for the moment, knowing the General prefers no interruptions during speeches.

She faces them directly, places her hand upon the commander's shoulder.  "You could have died fighting for the wrong reasons, for the wrong side.  Unacceptable."  Her gauntleted hand clamps down - firm, but not harsh - and slowly the general raises the commander to his feet to look him in the eyes.  "Commander - by surrendering, you kept your men alive.  You have my gratitude.  I and the Archons with me stand as allies to the King of this land, a good, wise ruler - as James suggests, you will swear to him to serve against the threat of the false Archons.  Though the fault is not yours, it would do much to make good this error."

Her dark, dark eyes narrow and she studies his face. "What is your name, commander?  And the name of your world, that I may protect it against reprisals from the false Archons."

"Our world is Kaergand, General.  My own name is Darrek, son of Tessad, of the House of Fyrdast.  By you command, we will swear allegiance to the king of this land."  He turns his head to glance at James, "And I beg your forgiveness, warrior, for my men at least.  We fought hard because we were led to believe that we would be ill-used by you and your kin."

As his gaze swivels back to Cyan, he sways slightly, but he continues talking, "We were lied to, it seems.  At least, that is what we are now told.  And the General is, we feel, more trustworthy than those we served."

James runs a hand across his face, wiping sweat from his forehead.  His armour might be a miracle of materials science and battlefield engineering but it still got hot inside.

James speaks sharply to Right, "Once bloodshed becomes needful, danioti, then the better part of the battle is already lost."

He then turns to Darrek, "You don't need to apologise to me.  We all follow orders and fight and kill.  Or die.  It's what soldiers do.  You are to be congratulated for fighting well even though I regret the consequences."

"Neither are you the first to be deceived by Harbonah.  Not far from here I was forced to kill another from your army, that resembled a scaled hound but was larger than a horse and had a poisoned tail.  It's people had been tricked into swearing a blood oath to Harbonah."

If only I could be sure that were true.  It would hardly be the first time that the lords and ladies of Amber abused a "shadow".

"Harbonah's goals are insane.  I doubt anyone except his kin would follow him willingly if they knew the truth.  Most are unwitting dupes.  I don't mean that as an insult, the alternative is worse..."

For the others are like the General, broken and twisted in mind and spirit.

The General's eyebrows rise slightly at the back and forth between James and Right.  She holds up her hand, cutting off the danioti naescent reply.  "Not now, Right."

Right dances in the air, shrinking slightly - not fearfully, but to present a less...aggressive stance, and when he speaks it is without his customary sardonic 'edge'.  + YES, GENERAL.  IT IS ONLY THAT THE MESSENGER'S THOUGHTS CURIOUSLY PARALLEL SOME OF MY OWN +   Ever since Charyk, where 'he' intercepted the Worldkiller's own message to the General, Right has struggled with thoughts and concepts outside of the norm for a danioti, drawing comparison between his own, natural fury and that of those who struggle against the Archon advance.  The Worldkiller's point had resonated with him, the images of the worlds destroyed by his own forces overlaying the howling rage at the destruction of the birthing world.  Was there a difference, simply because of who carried out the destruction?

Right suspects not.  He often wonders what Left, the deeper thinker of the pair, might say.

The General eyes the danioti for a long moment, her eyes lightening from onyx to hematite.  Then the darkness returns, and she turns back to James and Darrek.  "James speaks true - hardly surprising, really, but then you don't know him.  Fear not, Darrek; I'll my best to keep the bright skies of Kaergand clear, its forests untouched by fire, and its great river clean of blood."  Her lips thin - it won't be easy, but there are ways to keep the world safe...barring the fall of everything, of course.

The General and Cyan do not lightly give their word.

'We all follow orders to fight and kill.'  The General blinks, Cyan almost bubbling through again.  Never again!  Never!  The General mask ruthlessly suppresses the inner cry - they have business here, and it is not the time.  "Darrek," she asks, "are there Archons with your forces at this moment?  And will your people believe you if you bring them this word, or do you need us for that?  We will assist, should it be necessary or if there are Seraphim."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:49, Thu 28 Apr 2011.

Darrek frowns at James' words, and then his face clears, "I know those you speak of... the beasts.  I have never spoken to one, and was not even aware that they could speak."

Then, to Cyan, "There are none of these Archons, as you name them, with the army.  The weather has not suited them, it seems.  Not that the rain suits me, you understand, but at least I am not injured by it, as the burning wheels seem to be, judging by their howls, and their temper."

"I believe, General, that my people will listen to me.  The army has been here, in the forest, for days, and this is the first time the rain has eased in all that time.  The men are... less than keen to stay here for very much longer, fighting against the things that we have faced down there.  Many would likely desert or mutiny at a moment's notice."

"Yes, they can speak.  Though their native tongue is not easy to listen to, let alone understand.  You might even try speaking to them first.  They are powerful creatures, if you could persuade them then it would be a great help...and you would be safer."

"Hang on a moment."

James raises his helm up to eye level but instead of putting it on he reaches inside.  He appears to be manipulating something to an accompaniment of quiet clicks and whirs.  Abruptly another voice starts speaking, as though from the helm's visor.

"I are named... [rising screech].  I think dju... not can spik that."  The voice changes to that of James "You're right.  I can't."  There is a long pause  "If curse will... will to harm this... Circle of Fire... this Harrow-banah... then I will to spik... a thousand times... ten thousand curses.  Like to the stars... in the sky... I curses he." Another pause.  "I's brothers not be near.  I are lone dying.  I need dju to hare... I's iskad... " Another pause.  "I are... dying.  Time is."  What follows is a long, drawn-out, howling screech, with rhythmic variations in tone and volume.  It sounds like a song or a prayer.  "Time... is... "

The helm goes silent.  There is a gleam of moisture in the corner of James' eye, which he hurriedly wipes away.  "The General knows my views on torture, but Harbonah had better pray I never capture it for I will make it die a hundred deaths for what it has made me...us, do."

James switches to more practical matters, though his manner is still sombre.  "Unfortunately I can't give you a copy and I doubt you'll be able to imitate the creature's speech.  If you talk to the other... beasts, mention iskad and nedredalalven.  I think they must be significant."

"Kallum, I'll give you directions to where I fought the... Dammit, I hate not being able to name it.  Screech, that'll do.  To where I fought Screech.  It might be useful for intelligence purposes, but tell anybody who'll listen that I insist the body be treated with respect."

"Can you take care of the rest, Kallum?  From what Darrek says, I think Julian and Morgan can handle the defence and the General can use me elsewhere."

"Good.  No archons means you have a chance, at the moment.  Darrak, go to your people.  Relay my commands.  Their lives, their chances of survival, your worlds, all of this hinges upon you standing against the Seraphim.  With us."

The General closes her ebony eyes as James replays the final words, letting them wash over her in darkness.  Appropriate, given their poignancy.  Reaching out, she rests a hand on the armored man's shoulder, releasing him when the message ends.  "'The first casualty of war is the truth'," she whispers. "But the second is always innocence."  And James, the tired soldier, has so little left to lose.

And yet he forges on.

There are many things Cyan would wish to say, but the General?  She knows that nothing - no platitudes, no gentle wisdom, no comfort will assist James, and certainly not standing before a gathering of others.  In silence she stands, returning full mastery of this place to James' hands, his orders and requests standing.

She was, after all, only the catalyst to this.

Darrek nods his understanding, "I will do as you say.  All of these men, here with me, will join your cause, along with more than a few others, I believe.  I will try to speak to these beasts, as I come across them."

"We fight now for the King of Amber."

And Kallum, too, gives his assent to James' instructions, "Right you are, James.  I'll take a few men to find the beast, this Screech you speak of, and I'll make sure it's treated properly.  The rest of the men I'll leave up here, to guard the stair and make sure nobody tries to take it again."  He grins as he finishes speaking, "It's been a pleasure fighting alongside you again, James.  Well... not a pleasure, exactly, but you know what I mean, I'm sure."

The General offers a final bow to the soldiers before her, hoping - praying - that she can hold to her word.  Berd's message has arrived, and she has returned it, along with the image stolen from Derek's thoughts...and the man's mental 'signature'.  Already, the little drake will be analyzing it, seeking its rough ratio of Order to Chaos for placement within the Myriad worlds, then beginning a narrowed sweep through thousands of potential sites in search of both archon presense and a 'background' matching that of Derek's.

It will take time, but he will find their world.

One hand snaps a card out - a palanquet of a tiny dragon, his jewelled eyes aglitter with mischief and greedy hunger.  The other rises to touch James' shoulder.  "James," the General murmurs.  "If we are to go, it will be now."

James smiles, they had achieved a better outcome than he had thought to attain when he had left the Castle for his reconnaissance run a few hours ago.  With only a single Archon in command and parts of the attacking forces ready to defect, James was more confident than ever that Amber would hold - unless Harbonah was permitted to bring his greater scheme to fruition.

"It's alright Kallum, I know what you mean.  I'm sorry for lumping you with this mess.  After we get through all this I'll bring you a case of the best booze within a week's walk of Kolvir and we'll have a right old bender."

"Where's that vet you sent me?  Remind him that he got to touch the Unicorn.  That's more than some of the Family can say and I reckon it's worth more than any commendation I can give him."

James continues, more quietly, as an aside to Kallum, "Not that I think he'll need reminding.  Actually, better keep an eye on him, having someone like that around will do wonders for his unit's morale."

To Derek he says only, "Good luck, then.  I'll see you when I get back to Amber, if I can."

James does a final check of his kit.  His gun is slung over one shoulder, Fangmir held point down (but still bloody) in his left hand and his dog helm tucked under that arm.  All present, though perhaps not entirely correct.

He reaches up with his right hand and lightly grips Cyan's arm at the elbow as she touches his shoulder.  "Ready as I'll ever be.  Let's go."

The two stand silently, James gripping Cyan's arm.

Around them, men are starting to move out.  A few cross the meadow towards the jumble of boulders which, in daylight, only vaguely resembles a set of stairs.  Most though start down the gorge, heading back to Amber, or towards the camp of the former allies.  Almost all give James and Cyan curious looks as they pass by them.

Kallum is one of the last to leave, taking a last look around to ensure that everybody is going to where they should be.  Finally, once he is satisfied, he salutes James and bows to Cyan, and turns to follow the troops down the gorge.

Somewhere overhead a lark starts singing...

The General nods to Kallum as he departs, leaving the two Questors alone.  Sunlight gathers in the General's eyes as she watches them go, and slowly their colour shifts.  Obsidian to onyx...to hematite...and then silver.  A hint of gold appears, and suddenly they clear to topaz.

"Lords of the West, I detest that feeling," Cyan murmurs, letting her arm fall so that she and James hold forearms.  The eyes close as she breathes out a long, weary sigh.  Then they snap open again, their colour even brighter, the sunlight shining within their depths, and the bard smiles.  "But in a good cause, do you not think?  Did we do well, James?"

Her free hand holds up the palanquet.  "As soon as Berd informs me it is the proper time, I will open contact through this, and we can step through."  But even as she speaks, she continues the direct, mind to mind contact with the tired soldier before her.


She lifts her gaze, and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears.  Her smile is tremulous but true as she stares up toward the gleaming city upon the mountain, stony walls ablaze in the sun.  "Berd kept me from this for so long.  I no longer blame him, for he sought to shelter me in his own, bumbling way.  But glad I am, so very glad, to have seen this fabled city before the end."


Closing her eyes, she raises her voice in song to answer the lark - a song once shared with her a long time and many worlds away, where she stood in a dream beside a weary soldier.

"Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light."

But rather than continue, she tenses.


"Fool that I am," Cyan whispers, her eyes paling, the colour fading from them.  Her words hum with fear.  "Fool that I have been!  We always wondered why, what they were for, and then we forgot."  Turning her head, she stares directly at James, the momentary peace and ease completely gone.  And to his mind, she delivers the image the panicked, enraged Berd has sent.

...The eshurianti descends, slowing as it does, and rolls until it is horizontal.  And it continues to expand, until its diameter matches that of the bowl.  Finally, just above the ground surface, it stops, and something starts to emerge from it...

"A Cube," Cyan whispers, aghast.  "A Cube with thousands of faces, of thousands of worlds."  She raises the card - it swims before her eyes, the drake beginning to move.  Gripping James' hand, she reaches out for both of them.  "Father!  Take hold!"

James isn't entirely sure whether Cyan means to go through to Berd or to bring Berd and the others to them.  It doesn't help that he has only a passing understanding of the Cubes.  The potential implications are clearly distressing Cyan but James can only guess at possibilities.

In the end it doesn't matter much, James simply tightens his grip (on Cyan, helm and Fangmir) and waits to see who is travelling where.

There are observers in the area, a variety of birds, a weasel, a very nervous mouse and, some distance off, and concealed among bushes at the edge of the clearing, the Unicorn.  What they see is two humans standing very still.  The rest have gone now.

And suddenly the two are surrounded by a prismatic nimbus of light, which shimmers with all the colours of the spectrum, plus several more which don't belong to it.

And still they don't move.

The Unicorn snorts her puzzlement...

The rainbow halo flares... and the two are gone.

The Unicorn snickers softly, and turns to leave.  Everything has worked out perfectly.  Again...