The Legacy

by Suzanne de Montigny

  He recalled his father’s words that day on the mountain. The unicorns had no enemies save for the Rexus.

  But what about the skies?

  It wasn’t the last of the storms. They came and went, each time taking victims. Azaria was alarmed as the remaining herds grew gaunt, their ribs protruding from their sides from starvation.

  Then one day, the skies began to grow brighter, the smoke thinned, and small seedlings rose from the ash. It was spring.

  Chapter Six

  Darius

  Head held high, his eyes shining, Gaelan galloped toward Azaria, kicking his heels in the air. He gradually slowed and came to a stop right before him, his eyes lit up.

  “You look pretty happy,” Azaria said, amused. “What’s up?”

  “Ahhhhh, it’s those delicious, tender shoots of grass growing. They’re so good. I just can’t get enough of them.” He pranced. “And did you notice? It’s warmer and the sky is so much lighter.”

  “I know. And look how much we’ve grown. We’re done with starving.” Azaria hooves danced. “And we’re yearlings now! See? I’m getting my horn!” He bent his head down to show off the stub of his sprouting bud.

  “Me too!” said Gaelan, bowing his head to reveal the small growth. “Did you know the other day I actually healed my mother when she scratched herself on a dead branch? It was a little difficult because my horn isn’t very long yet, but I did it.”

  “Me too!” Azaria exclaimed. “I healed Jemmi when she fell and twisted her ankle. I had to practically stand on my head to do it, but it worked.”

  The colts threw their heads back and laughed, shaking their manes. Then Gaelan grew serious.

  “Azaria? Have you noticed there are no new foals?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I did. Mother says when there’s no food, there are no foals. It’s the way of nature.”

  “Really? But what if the mares never have any again?”

  “I don’t know,” said Azaria, “Father says we need foals to survive. Otherwise everyone will just grow old and die.”

  Gaelan thought for a moment. “Too bad we can’t talk to Darius. He’d know what’s going to happen.”

  “Yeah. But he’s pretty far away, and it’s not really safe to go there yet. Plus, there’s still the Rexus.” Azaria cocked his head. “But I could ask my father. After all, he is the Great Stallion.”

  “Good idea! And see if I can come too,” said Gaelan.

  “Alright.” Azaria nodded.

  It was evening when he got up the nerve to approach his sire, walking as tall he could and holding his head high.

  “You look so grown up,” said his father. “I almost didn’t know it was you.

  The colt’s lips curled up in a sheepish smile.

  “Father … I think we should go the other valley and see if Darius has been having any of his spells,” he blurted. “I want to know what’s going to happen next.”

  Polaris sighed. “I’ve been thinking that too.”

  “Seriously? So we can go?” Azaria tried his hardest to contain his excitement.

  “Well ... I’m just afraid of what I might find. The dinosaurs are huge animals, and I’m not so sure they fared well.”

  “But can we at least go see?” Azaria pleaded.

  “I don’t know.” Polaris pressed his lips together and looked away.

  “After all, it’s for the good of the unicorns.” Azaria put on his speaking-to-Saul voice. He waited. When Polaris refrained from answering, he turned to leave, his head lowered. He had walked no more than a few paces when his sire called out.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Yes!” Azaria exclaimed, leaping into a gallop. He ran to tell Gaelan the news, cantering in circles around him.

  “Did he say I could come?” asked Gaelan, joining his friend’s frolicking.

  “I forgot to ask, but if he says we can go, I’ll ask him for you too.”

  The next day, Azaria’s chance came when Polaris stood before the herd and made the announcement. “I’ve decided I’m going to find Darius.”

  Sighs of relief resounded throughout the unicorns.

  “May fair weather go with you,” an older mare called out.

  “And may you find Darius in good health,” cried a male.

  “I’ll do the best I can,” said Polaris, nodding.

  Azaria leapt forward. “Father, what about me? I want to come too.”

  “I don’t think so, Azaria. I’ve thought about it, and it’s too dangerous.”

  “But Father, it’ll be dangerous if you go alone. You were the one who said we should all stay together in case something happens. And we could bring Gaelan too. After all, you did teach us both how to speak to the dinosaurs.”

  “It’s true, Polaris.” Aurora said. “You shouldn’t go alone. Azaria and Gaelan have shown a lot of courage during these hard times. I think you should bring them along. And besides, what good will they do around here?”

  Polaris eyed the two eager young yearlings. “Alright, then,” he said. “Come on.”

  The trip was vastly different from the first time they made the trek. Vicious storms had uprooted the once-majestic trees, and windfall littered the ground. The stench of mold and rot assaulted their nostrils while they trudged through the mire. Large puddles stretched long arms around the terrain like claws, making the journey all the longer as they navigated around the deep waters. But the worst part was the mosquitoes that tormented them. They shook their coats repeatedly to rid themselves of the annoying insects that feasted on their blood, only to have them return moments later.

  Hearing the pitiful sound of a mournful bird crying for its mate, Azaria recalled the fright they encountered on their first trip. “Better watch out for the flying dinosaurs,” he joked. But none came. He glanced around. “Gosh, they’re no birds around for real this time.”

  “No trees to build their nests in,” Polaris said, looking back.

  Azaria frowned.

  They trudged through the mud until at last they arrived at the opening of the valley. Though he was tired, Azaria’s pace quickened, but when they rounded the corner, his heart fell. It was far worse than he had imagined. Hundreds of skeletons and bones lay scattered on the ground where dinosaurs had breathed their last breath.

  “They’re all gone!” cried Gaelan, his eyes wide with disbelief at what had become a massive graveyard.

  “You were right, Father.” Azaria’s voice trembled. “They just didn’t have enough food.”

  He fought to keep the tears back. He wouldn’t cry – he just wouldn’t. Looking about, he wished that somehow Saul would make an appearance, that somehow there had been a mistake, and that just around the bend he might come upon the long-necks. Scanning the skies again for flying dinosaurs, he found nothing.

  “Let’s keep looking. You never know. There may be survivors,” said Polaris, squinting as he searched.

  “Maybe we’ll find some further in the valley,” said Azaria.

  “There aren’t even any Rexus,” said Gaelan, his voice choked.

  Azaria couldn’t imagine that a beast as powerful as the Rexus could be beat.

  They explored the valley for what seemed hours. It was the same everywhere – bones, dead trees, watery fields infested with mosquitoes, and stench. No animal life, save for a few birds chirping forlornly, and the odd field mouse.

  “We may as well go home, Father.” Azaria said, his voice trembling. “There’s nothing here.”

  “I think you’re right,” said Polaris.

  As they turned to leave, a movement caught Azaria’s eye. Fearing the Rexus, he raced to catch up to his sire, breaking into beads of sweat. Then his heart leapt, for there taking cautious steps toward them from behind a large boulder was Darius.

  “You finally came,” cried the half-grown dinosaur, his voice cracking. “I kept calling for you. Quick! Come and help!” His eyes threatened to spill over with tears. “There’s something wrong with Mother.”

  The un
icorns followed Darius to a secluded spot in the damaged terrain. There lay Maresa, emaciated and gaunt, her skin rough and scaly, and her eyes glassy. With great difficulty, she raised her head.

  “Polaris! Oh, how I hoped that someone would come to help us. It’s been terrible. Such a famine. We’re the only ones left, and I’m afraid I’m too weak to move on,” she said, her voice feeble.

  “You must try. Come with us to the unicorns’ valley. Already the sky is lightening and the sun will return, and then there’ll be new trees for you to feed on,” Polaris promised, a false note in his voice.

  “No, it’s no use. There won’t be enough plant life anywhere for a long time,” she said. “It’s just too far and I’m near the end, but please … please take Darius. He’s much smaller, and I know he can survive.”

  Darius’s face was streaked with tears. “No, Mother, no! I won’t leave without you!” He placed his mouth gently over her neck and tried to pull her up, but Maresa’s head was far too heavy. Losing his grip, her face settled on the dirty ground again.

  “I can’t. I’m too weak. Only one of us can survive, and it won’t be me. Please go on, Darius, and save yourself. You were given the gift of sight for a reason. You must carry on.” She broke into a fitful cough.

  Sobbing, Darius struggled to pull her up again and again. Each time she fell back. She tried to cough once more, but her lungs only rattled. Then she settled down and drifted into a deep sleep. Darius, tired too, lay down beside her.

  Several hours passed. The dinosaurs dozed on. Maresa’s breathing grew labored, and she mumbled from time to time.

  “I’m afraid it won’t be long now,” whispered Polaris. “We’d better stay with her through the night.”

  “But Father, why don’t you just heal her?” Azaria asked.

  “I can’t. It would take a whole herd of unicorns to heal an animal this size,” he said. “Our healing powers are only meant for each other. And besides, we can’t cure starvation.”

  Azaria withdrew, sulking, and then moved close to Gaelan. “She doesn’t deserve this,” he whispered to his friend, trying to keep his voice steady. “She was so kind and gentle. Why doesn’t this sort of thing happen to bad creatures like the lions?”

  “A lot of lions didn’t survive either,” said Polaris. “We’ve all lost members to the change. All we can do is carry on.”

  Azaria blinked back tears. He remembered his mother’s advice and whispered over and over. “All bad things must end. All bad things must end,” as though somehow her words would make it all go away.

  The unicorns stayed by Maresa’s side as the evening air grew colder. Where once the night had been rich with sounds, only the ghostly sound of the wind whistling over her labored breathing remained. He shuddered, remembering Orpheus’ story the night of the great fireball.

  As Maresa took her last breath, Darius awoke and wandered over to her side. He gazed down at her, his eyes filled with tenderness.

  “Good-bye, Mother,” he said. Then he looked up into the dark sky and spoke, his voice mysterious and songlike. “Can you feel her?” he asked. “Can you feel her spirit leave?”

  Azaria shivered, and then exchanged looks with Gaelan.

  Darius gazed at the sky for a long time, a slight smile on his lips. Then he turned to the unicorns as though a spell had been broken and said, “While I slept, I had a dream of what the future will bring. My mother was right – I must carry on. I’m ready to go with you now.”

  The unicorns rose without question and led the young dinosaur home.

  Chapter Seven

  Close Call

  Azaria stared in awe at the sight before him, his chin hanging. Grasses had reclaimed the land, and large, leafy ferns had magically transformed the drab browns to rich greens. The great ponds, whose mosquitoes had tormented him, had long dried up. And where the grey trees had fallen, new saplings shot up, the forest promising to return. It was the sky, though, that captured his attention that morning, making him feel giddy.

  “The sun. Can you see it through the haze?” he called, swaying back and forth, his neck stretched toward the heavens.

  Gaelan’s brow furrowed. “So it didn’t hit the earth that day. It was something else?”

  “I guess not.” Azaria gave a mischievous smile. “But I knew all along it would come back.”

  “You did not, you big phony!” Gaelan sideswiped Azaria.

  “Yes I did.” Azaria shoved him back.

  “Did not,” scoffed Gaelan.

  “Okay, so I didn’t.” Azaria lowered his eyes. “But I’m glad it’s back. We need lots of it to grow ferns for Darius.”

  “I know. Have you ever seen anyone eat so much in all your life?” Gaelan glanced back at the dinosaur in the distance.

  “No. He’s grown to twice his size since he came to live with us.”

  “Yeah. My mom says we didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into.”

  “That’s for sure, but he’s a lot of fun, though. He’s really changed the valley for the better,” said Azaria.

  He looked further to where Darius played with the unicorns. The giant beast picked up Cassi gently in his mouth and placed her on his back. Cassi teetered along his bony spine until Darius lowered his tail, and she slid to the ground, whinnying with glee. In the same way, he lifted Jemmi. Other unicorns scrambled for their turn, giggling as they lined up.

  Azaria remembered the day they returned with the much smaller Darius. How the unicorns gaped at the strange creature and darted out of the way when he trundled into the herd – until Polaris, Azaria, and Gaelan appeared.

  “This is Darius,” Polaris had announced, “His dam passed away early this morning from starvation. He’ll be part of our herd from now on.”

  His words had been met with incredulous stares, but within days, they all warmed up to the giant beast, and he became a popular playmate for the young.

  “Hey, Darius, let’s play hide and seek,” called Azaria one day.

  “Yeah,” shouted Cassi, “but you’re it since you’re too big to hide.”

  “Dinosaurs can hide,” said Darius.

  “No, they can’t,” said Gaelan, “unless there’s a mountain nearby.”

  The young unicorns snickered together, enjoying the joke.

  “Don’t be too sure,” Darius began in a low voice. “Sometimes they can sneak up on you ... quite suddenly!” He leapt forward, scattering the foals, and landed with a loud, rumbling thud.

  “Yeah, but even so, you’re the only dinosaur around, so it’d be easy to pick you out,” said Cassi, laughing.

  “No ... I’m not the only dinosaur,” replied Darius, his eyes glazing.

  Azaria’s ears pricked up at his words. He felt his hair rise, but quickly forgot about it as he was caught up in the swiftness of the game.

  “Alright then, Azaria’s it,” said Cassi, scurrying away.

  “Ah, not again.” Azaria turned his back, counted, and then spun around searching for Darius. He was nowhere to be found.

  Azaria wandered around to the usual hiding spots, finding Jemmi behind a dead log, and Cassi hidden behind a large stone. Joining forces, the three searched together for Gaelan, discovering him hidden in the crevasse of a stone escarpment.

  “Where’s Darius?” Azaria asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Jemmi.

  Cassi shook her head. “Me neither.”

  “He was here a minute ago,” Gaelan said, looking perplexed.

  “Darius,” called Azaria. “Where are you?”

  There was no answer.

  “Darius?” they all called.

  “How can he disappear like that?” said Cassi.

  “I don’t know. I hope nothing’s happened to him,” said Jemmi, her tail twitching.

  “What could possibly happen to a huge dinosaur?” Gaelan asked.

  A loud thud startled them.

  “Looking for me?” Darius asked, obviously pleased with himself.

  “Where were
you?” cried Cassi, her nostrils flared.

  “Didn’t I tell you dinosaurs could hide?” Darius chuckled.

  “Yeah, but how?” asked Gaelan.

  “I’m not telling.” Darius’ grin stretched from ear to ear.

  The foals wandered further away, chattering as they went until Gaelan spied something in the distance.

  “Oh, look,” he cried. “A cave. Let’s explore it.”

  “Well, I don’t know –” began Azaria, remembering Saul’s warning.

  “Oh yeah, let’s!” said the fillies, breaking into a trot.

  “Hey, where’d Darius go?” asked Azaria, hoping the dinosaur would back him up.

  “I don’t know,” said Gaelan, “but are you coming or not?

  “You remember what Saul said about the caves,” Azaria said.

  “But Saul’s gone. Remember? The fireball? All that stuff?” scoffed Gaelan.

  “Well, alright.” Azaria surrendered against his better judgment.

  Taking one last look around for the dinosaur, he followed the girls and Gaelan into the cavern, their hooves clattering as they tread on the hard rock. Azaria knew this had probably once been the lair of a Rexus, but he sure wasn’t going to be left behind.

  “It’s really dark in here,” said Jemmi, her voice a little unsure.

  “Yeah, it’s like night,” agreed Cassi, looking back to the mouth of the cave where daylight still shone.

  “Hey, I hear an echo!” Gaelan cried. “Echo ... echo ... echo.”

  The fillies joined in too.

  “Hoo ... hoo ... hoo,” called Jemmi, throwing her head back like a wolf.

  “Hello … hello … hello,” hollered Cassi.