The Legacy

by Suzanne de Montigny

  “There is,” said Darius, his frown turning into a mischievous grin.

  “What?” asked Azaria. “Tell me. I’ll do anything.”

  Darius reached up to pull at some leaves high in a tree. He chewed on them before answering. “You say Dorianna’s ghost has been seen?”

  “Well, so Orpheus says.”

  Darius finished chewing the leaves and swallowed. “Then, you must become a ghost like her.”

  Azaria jerked his head back. “Ghost? Me? But I don’t want to die.”

  Darius chuckled. “You don’t need to.”

  “How then?” Azaria frowned.

  “Simple. You see my shadow?” the dinosaur said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Try and catch it!”

  Azaria snorted. “I can’t, Darius. Everyone knows you can’t catch a shadow because it isn’t real. It’s just a play of light.”

  “Exactly, and that’s how you’ll gain power over Ishmael,” replied Darius matter-of-factly. “A ghost is like a shadow. And once you become a shadow, no one, not even Ishmael can capture you. Not to mention you might scare the bejeebers out of him.”

  “Alright ... so how do I do this?”

  “Easy. You must think like a shadow, move like the wind, and become a part of nature in a breath.”

  Azaria let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Ah, but you can if you are willing. Are you ready to begin learning?” Darius asked.

  The unicorn paused a moment, and then replied with enthusiasm, “Yes!”

  “Good. Now start galloping!”

  Azaria smiled at Darius as though the dinosaur had just asked him to do something easy like chew on grass or breathe, and then broke into a gallop. He ran several circles around the dinosaur, and then came back, his eyebrows raised, poised for the praise that was certain to follow.

  “You're a fast runner, but not fast enough,” Darius said.

  Azaria’s face fell. “Well, I know I’m not the quickest in my herd, but I’m still fairly fast.”

  “But you’re still not as fast as the wind.” He pointed his long neck toward one of the old Rexus caverns. “Gallop to the cave over there, but this time become the wind.”

  The unicorn flew. He kicked up his heels as high as ever, taking great leaps, and lunging forward. His muscles burned, and his lungs felt as though they would burst. He returned from the cave, puffing and sweating.

  “Well? How was that?” he asked, his mouth drawn up in an expectant grin.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run that fast,” said Darius.

  Azaria held his head high.

  “But … you were merely a unicorn galloping.”

  “What?” Azaria stamped a hoof. “But that’s what I am! I can’t go any faster than that!”

  “Ah, but you can. How do you think I got there so quickly when the Rexus was after Jemmi?”

  Azaria shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “I became the wind. That’s how. That means you have to be a part of it. You must feel its breath blow strong – and absorb its power,” Darius explained, his voice rising and falling.

  Azaria heaved a sigh, and then pulled himself up to his full height. He waited, his senses piqued. A small breeze tugged at his mane and tickled his skin. It was cool and light, yet strong. Then he felt a gust, leapt, and ... caught it! It carried him as he galloped. He was doing it – Azaria was riding the wind! Power surged through him. Excitement coursed through his body, and he nearly called out. But just as suddenly as he had captured the gust, he lost it and was just galloping again. Slowing to a stop, he turned to Darius, his eyebrows raised almost to his ears.

  “That was it, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” Darius’ voice burst with joy. “And now you must continue to practice this daily until you’re able to do it without thinking.”

  “You bet I will!” Azaria galloped away to try again. He spent the rest of the day repeating the exercise until he was exhausted, thrilled with his new power. He imagined the surprise of the other yearlings when they saw him race at this new speed. But remembering them also filled him with loneliness. And when night arrived, he collapsed into a deep sleep, dreaming of his family and the days before the fireball.

  Two weeks passed – two splendid weeks in the valley with Darius. Azaria was certain he was the fastest unicorn that ever lived. He fantasized racing with the swiftest stallions, and of course, always winning. But something troubled him.

  One night, he wandered to the clear pool of water where the bright moon’s reflection glowed. He dipped his head in to take a drink and heard a snap. A shrill whinny escaped him, and he hurdled backward, landing on his rump in the water.

  Darius, close by, lowered his long neck. “Why so jumpy?” he asked, hiding a smile.

  “I heard a noise. I thought it was a –” He paused.

  “A what?” asked Darius.

  “Well, a ... a –”

  “Azaria, you’re a unicorn. You have no enemies other than the humans, and I’m here beside you. What could possibly scare you?”

  Raising himself up out of the water and shaking off the drops, Azaria ignored the question and dipped his lips in the water again to drink.

  “Azaria?” persisted Darius.

  “All right!” Azaria scowled. “I thought you were Dorianna’s ghost!”

  “What? Dorianna’s ghost? Why on earth would that scare you?”

  “I ... I ... I’m scared she’ll haunt me,” he said, avoiding his friend’s gaze.

  Darius threw his head back and laughed loud and long. “But Dorianna was your friend.”

  “Yeah, she was,” said Azaria, “but …”

  “Then why should you be afraid of her in death?”

  “Well –” Azaria tilted his head.

  “It’s Ishmael who should be frightened. He’s the one who wronged her.” Darius grabbed some more leaves with his teeth and chewed them.

  Azaria turned away, pondering his words. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “She’s on your side,” Darius said.

  Azaria thought a moment. “You really think so?”

  “Definitely. Do you see me jumping at every sound because it might be my mother?” Darius’ lips twitched with amusement.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Well then?”

  Azaria breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. He chuckled a bit at the silliness of it all and decided from that moment on, he would never fear a ghost again.

  The next morning, he and Darius wandered to the meadow.

  Darius quizzed Azaria. “What do you do if you see Ishmael and one of his men?” he asked.

  Confident, Azaria shot back, “You become one with the wind, and flee as fast as possible.”

  Darius raised his brows. “That’s one way, but there’s another.”

  “What?” asked Azaria.

  “You must be able to transform yourself into a rock or a tree, or anything that is near you in but a moment.”

  “But how? I’m made of flesh and bones.”

  “Let me show you,” said the dinosaur.

  Azaria watched with interest. A large bird squawked nearby. He glanced away for only a moment, but when he turned back, Darius had disappeared. Azaria searched about, turning a complete circle.

  “Darius? Where are you?” he called. “Darius?” The dinosaur didn’t answer. “Darius! This isn’t funny!”

  The unicorn trotted toward the cave, thinking for sure Darius had hidden himself inside, but stopped abruptly when he saw a portion of the cave transform itself into the familiar form of the tall dinosaur. Azaria jumped backward.

  “How did you do that?”

  Darius grinned from ear to ear. “I became one with the land,” he said as though it was the easiest thing in the world. “Just like I did when we used to play hide and seek.”

  “But how can you? You’re like me. You’re made of flesh a
nd bones.”

  “I just did and you can do it too. Try.”

  “You mean like this?” Azaria asked. He twisted and turned his torso trying to mimic a rock with a tree sticking up.

  Darius began chuckling. Soon, he was rolling around on the ground, his huge body shaking the earth with giant spasms of laughter.

  Untwisting himself, Azaria glared at Darius. “What’s so funny?” he asked, burning with humiliation.

  “You, Azaria. You look like a unicorn pretending to be a rock and a tree.” He rolled and howled again.

  Azaria fumed. Hot air snorted from his nostrils and his eyes bulged. “It’s not funny!” he shouted. “I’m not a dinosaur. I’m a unicorn. I’m meant to run and play.” He turned to leave in a huff, stomping his hooves hard on the ground.

  Darius’ laughter subsided, and his eyes softened as he rolled his great mass up to his feet. “Don’t go, Azaria. Times have changed. The unicorns used to run and play. But now they have to run and survive.”

  Azaria stopped and faced Darius. “Okay,” he said, his face knotted into a scowl.

  “Try again, only this time, think of the cave and how it was formed. You’re very old and have been there for thousands of years. Many seasons have passed; many animals have used you for shelter ...”

  Azaria listened, his eyes glazed as the words washed over him. He began whispering, “I am the cave, I am the cave, I am the cave.” Visions of seasons passing – no – many seasons, hundreds of seasons, and animals coming and going, slid through his mind like water through polished stones. Then it happened. He felt his body reshape.

  Azaria saw Darius’ gaze pass right through him. The dinosaur looked about, then back to the spot again.

  I’m invisible. He can’t see me.

  A bird cawed, startling Azaria. His concentration gone, he transformed back to himself.

  “Was that it?” he asked, prancing. “Was it? Was it?”

  “Yes! You did it. Now practice this some more and when you have mastered it, you’ll be ready for the last step.”

  “I will.” Azaria promised as he bounded away.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fight and Flight

  Ishmael sat at the table counting his gold, his face lit up like a bandit’s lantern. He weighed the heavy metal in the palm of his dirty hands and proceeded to make several piles, chuckling to himself.

  “Do you realize how much more gold we can make with the healing powder?” he asked Adiva, his eyebrows wiggling with glee.

  “No,” she said, running warm water over Ali in her bath. The little girl squealed at the sensation of the liquid tickling her skin.

  “Far more than we did during the plague.” He chuckled again. “And do you realize that if we slaughtered the rest of the unicorns in the pen, we could be rich beyond our wildest dreams?” His eyes narrowed in delight and his lips curved up in a nasty grin as he envisioned himself parading into town wearing rich linens and shoes made of the finest leather.

  “What are you talking about?” Adiva stopped washing the child and flung around to face her husband, her wet hands dripping on her hips. “You’re not going to kill those animals?”

  “Why not? I can’t wait around for another plague, and I don’t want to be dragging those wild unicorns all over town so people can touch their horns. It’s easier this way.”

  Adiva took two heated steps toward her husband, her shoes scuffling against the floor. “But you’ll kill them all and there won’t be any left afterward.”

  “There’s always the spring,” he said. “There’ll be more foals.”

  “But you’ll slaughter them just as fast as they’re born. How can you? Those animals were born to run free. You have to leave them be,” she argued, her face locked in a frown.

  Ishmael rolled his eyes and gave his usual answer. “They’re just animals, Adiva.”

  “Mama, I’m cold,” whimpered Ali, shivering in the bath water.

  Their voices rose as the argument grew more intense.

  “Mama! I’m cold!” Ali cried again.

  “Can’t you keep her quiet?” growled Ishmael, his temper mounting.

  “But you musn’t kill the unicorns!” Adiva shouted.

  “I’ll do as I please,” he roared back.

  “Mama!”

  Ishmael threw his hands to his ears and left, slamming the door behind him.

  There’s nothing I hate worse than the wailing of a child, except the nagging of my wife.

  Walking off his anger, he headed to town, searching for men whose hungry eyes spoke of desperation, men who would do anything he asked for a few coins and a supper. Finding several drifters whose dirty clothes hung in rags, he gathered them together and brought them to his home.

  “Here’s what we’ll do,” he explained. “We’ll tie all the unicorns separately so that they can’t reach each other. Then when I give the signal, we’ll all shoot our bows at exactly the same moment and kill them all off. We must be sure they can’t reach each other with their horns or they’ll survive. It’s the only way.”

  The hungry, ill-clad men nodded, stealing eager glances at Adiva while she prepared food for them. Ishmael noted the hard jabs of her spoon as she cooked, and how she slammed the plates with a thud, but ignored her.

  After the men filled their empty stomachs, he sent them with their bedrolls to the small shed a short walk from the house for the night.

  “I’ll get you up just before sunrise,” he said before turning down the path to the house.

  The next morning, the sun had already risen when Ishmael awoke.

  “What?” he mumbled. “Why did I wake up so late?” He rolled over and sat up. The house was cold and the morning fire hadn’t been lit. All was quiet. Not even Ali’s little voice could be heard.

  “Where’s the child?” he said aloud. “Adiva? Adiva, where are you?” He paced around the house searching each room, confused. “She must be outside.”

  Ishmael swung the door open. He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the daylight. Then he rubbed them and looked about. Something was wrong. The holding pen ... it was ...

  “What?” he shouted. “Where did they go?” His feet pounding, he ran to the shed where the men were bedded down and threw the door open. “What did you do with them?” he hollered. “I give you food and you steal my unicorns?” He aimed a swift kick at one of the men. Missing, Ishmael grabbed him by the shoulders.

  The man gave a helpless look at the others. “We didn’t steal your unicorns. Look, we’re all here. No one’s gone. We’ve been here all night.”

  “Yeah, besides, where would we put them?” asked another, coming to the first man’s side.

  Ishmael did a quick count of the men. Reality struck him full force.

  “Adiva!” he shouted, his voice thundering. “Where are you? I give you all the riches you could ever want and this is how you repay me? Adiva?”

  The sound of the wind mocked him.

  He tore into the house and stopped, seeing what he had failed to notice before. All his wife’s things were gone, and Ali’s too. On the table, lay a laurel wreath like the ones he found beside the unicorn skeletons.

  “It was her! She’s the one who’s been leaving the wreaths. She’s been against me all this time!”

  Ishmael threw over the table and chairs and pounded his fists on the wall.

  “How could my wife deceive me like that? My wife!”

  He covered his eyes with his rough hands, backed into a corner, and slid to the ground. He sat there for a time, clenching and unclenching his fists, and then slowly rose, his face transforming to a nasty scowl as his thoughts took shape.

  “You want to make a fool of me in front of the whole town, woman? Well, I still have my men, and I’ll hunt every one of those scrawny unicorns down and kill them. And you can’t stop me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Shadow-Walk

  “And now, Azaria, you have one final skill to learn. It’s the most difficult one of al
l,” said Darius.

  “Oh, good! What is it?” Azaria asked, feeling very confident after mastering riding the wind and camouflaging.

  “You must walk from here to that rock through the mud without making a sound or leaving any traces,” said Darius as he shifted around his weight, making himself comfortable.

  “Not a problem.” Azaria grinned. He walked as quietly as he could, concentrating on the task and sure of success. But after only one step, he heard the unmistakable splitch-splotch of his hooves sucking up the mud. Looking back from the other side, his ears flattened, he cried, “They’re all there!”

  “Ah, but not all of them,” Darius said, a hint of smile playing on his lips.

  Azaria looked up, hopeful, but confused.

  “Where are the prints of your shadow?” the dinosaur asked.

  Azaria’s face returned to its former scowl. “Well, there aren’t any because my shadow’s not real.”

  “But I distinctly saw it follow you as you went along.”

  Azaria stared at Darius, utterly puzzled.

  Darius continued. “Try again, Azaria, and this time, think as a shadow. Move as one. Be one. Shadows make no sound and leave no traces.”

  The unicorn scrunched his brows in deep concentration. He imagined he was a shadow, grey and misty, that he was light and airy, and began the walk again, this time riding on the tips of his hooves. He took only a few steps when one of his hooves caught a stone, and he slipped, landing headlong into the mire. Struggling to rise, he lost his balance again, but forced himself up, grimacing at his muddy coat.

  “Shadow, my eye!” he growled. “No one can be a shadow. Not even you. I bet you can’t do it either!”