The Legacy

by Suzanne de Montigny

  Azaria gasped, his eyes wide with fear. “Do you think they went into the town like they said they would?”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Gaelan exclaimed.

  “Let’s go!” said Azaria.

  Plunging forward, they galloped at full speed toward the town. Sweat poured off their sides as they ran, and they snorted and puffed as they flew. They arrived in time to hear a blood-curdling scream.

  “Look!” Gaelan pointed with his horn. “It’s Nathaniel.”

  Below, a woman, her face twisted in terror ran for her life. Nathaniel followed on her heels, disappearing and reappearing while his mates guffawed.

  “They’re fooling the humans into thinking they’re ghosts by camouflaging!” exclaimed Azaria.

  Azaria sprang forward to stop them from further harm, but not fast enough. The renegade unicorns shadow-walked to the town square where several humans were gathered for a wedding. Zackary leapt through the group, wailing like a banshee, and disappeared. The humans panicked. They fled through the rows of tables, overturning them and spilling the carefully prepared feast on the ground. Nathaniel made for the bride and grabbed the hem of her dress in his big, yellow teeth. The dress tore with a loud rip as the shrieking bride struggled to escape. He let go with a loud whinny and joined Zackary, appearing and disappearing before the fleeting crowd. The mob ploughed forward into the streets, pushing and shoving, hurrying to the safety of their homes. They knocked over an elderly man in their desperation. The man cowered and called for help, but no one heard him. The renegade unicorns laughed cruelly.

  Azaria waited until the last of the humans fled, and then dove at the young unicorns. “You idiots! Do you want us to be killed?” he shouted.

  “Hey man, we’re just having a bit of fun.” Zackary chortled.

  “Well it’s not fun! You’re scaring them!” Azaria neighed. “And someone was injured!”

  “I don’t care. They kept me locked up in the tied trees and I could have died. They deserve it!” sneered Zackary, his laughter turned to rage.

  “You mean the fence. And it wasn’t them, lame brain. Ishmael was the one who captured you. These people are completely innocent. And the rest of you, following along like little lemmings. Unicorns are supposed to be much smarter than that! What’s wrong with the lot of you?” Azaria roared.

  “Ah, you think you know everything don’t you? You’re just like your old father. Always gotta be the good little colt. Aw, how cute.” Zackary’s mocking face changed into a scowl. “You’ll never fit in with us. We’re the new unicorns. We do as we please.” He turned to face his friends, but his expression fell when his mates moved to Azaria’s side.

  From the corner of his eye, Azaria spied the elderly gentleman struggling to pull himself up.

  “I’ll take care of it,” said Gaelan. He walked toward the old man, his hooves clip-clopping on the stones in earthly fashion, and gently touched the trembling man’s leg with his horn. The human cringed at first, but then relaxed at the sight of Gaelan’s gentle eyes.

  “You’re one of the real ones, aren’t you?” The old man smiled. “And you’re healing me.” The elderly gentleman sat still as the heat coursed through his body. Then he rubbed his newly-healed leg and rose.

  “Now let’s go,” ordered Azaria looking each unicorn in the eye. “If you want to stay here, Zackary, go ahead, but I won’t let you put the others in danger.”

  The young unicorns turned to leave. Zackary sulked at the desertion of his fellow hoodlums and followed a short distance behind. They hurried along the trail avoiding Ishmael’s house. When they neared the forest, a zinging sound split the air, followed by an ominous thud.

  “I’ve been hit!” screamed Zackary. “Stop!”

  Azaria looked back to see Zackary, an arrow buried in his flank, and a half-hidden Ishmael grinning from ear to ear.

  More arrows flung through the air. Azaria dodged them.

  “We can’t. We’ve got to keep moving!” he shouted.

  “Fly!”

  “But it hurts!” Zackary cried. “Please, Azaria, stop!”

  The unicorns ignored his pleas, galloping furiously. Azaria checked back several times to keep an eye on Zackary who lagged further and further behind. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally halted, their sides heaving. Zackary limped toward them, dragging a leg, blood pouring from his flank.

  Azaria grabbed the arrow with his teeth and pulled with all his might, dislodging it, before quickly touching his horn to the wound. The gash melted from sight. Zackary blubbered, his sobs racking his body.

  “Not so tough now, are you?” Azaria snarled.

  “I’m sorry. All I wanted to do was have a bit of fun. They think we’re spirits, right?”

  “Not anymore they don’t,” Azaria growled, “thanks to you – and the rest of you too.”

  The young unicorns moped, not meeting his gaze.

  “Now we’re really in danger. Ishmael knows our secret and to make matters worse, you’ve all made enemies of the humans too. The whole situation is far more serious than it ever was. Now let’s go!”

  The unicorns shadow-walked into the forest, tired but relieved when they joined the rest of the herd. The mares exclaimed at the sight of the dried blood on Zackary’s side, but Azaria said nothing. As far as he was concerned, he had dealt with the incident. All they could do now was wait and see how the humans would react.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Scorning

  Ishmael strode through the spoils the townsfolk worked hard to clean. He stepped over rotting food and shook his head at the tables and chairs scattered everywhere.

  Fools. All this over a bit of superstition.

  Stopping at the square, he stared, smirking at the disarray.

  “It was him,” wailed an old hag, her wrinkled mouth opening to reveal rotten teeth as she cried.

  “It’s his fault.” An old man pointed his long bony finger at Ishmael. “You killed the unicorns, and now they’ve come back to haunt us.”

  “You ruined my daughter’s wedding,” roared the cloth merchant, his arms crossed and legs planted like strong pillars in the ground. “You should be driven out!”

  Ishmael pushed his way down the street, deaf to their words, maintaining his proud stride.

  For two months, he’d watched the unicorns, always staying hidden in the deep recesses and cool shadows of the woods. Seeing them disappear at the slightest hint of danger, he noted they reappeared after it passed. He also observed they could change from their normal clodhopping pace to a silent, graceful, almost floating gait when spooked. But most revealing of all, he noticed they ate and left droppings just the same as any other animal.

  “They’re not spirits,” he said. “They’ve just learned a few tricks, that’s all. Just like horses can be taught to pull a wagon, unicorns can be taught to hide themselves. I’ve seen it. I even struck one last night with an arrow. It bled just as any other beast would have.”

  “Lies! Lies!” cried the cloth merchant. “You’ve brought bad luck on us all. The whole town is cursed now.”

  Ishmael stood before the people, ready to prove his superiority when he spotted a boy, his hands and face smeared with dirt, searching among the spoils of the wedding. His eyes gleaming, the boy grabbed a bruised apple and flung it at him. Ishmael ducked, but the boy wouldn’t be deterred. He aimed another apple at Ishmael’s stomach with all his might. It struck him square on.

  “You!” shouted Ishmael, holding his stomach. “I’ll get you for that.” He ran to the boy and seized his arm. The boy screamed. Ishmael raised his fist, but stopped when he spied a small girl cowering in a corner against the rough bricks of a building.

  Ali! My daughter. You’re still here. But where is ...?

  And then he saw her. His wife stood cloaked in the shadows, resentment etched on her face, reluctantly meeting his gaze.

  “Adiva,” he pleaded. “Where did you ...”

  Before Ishmael could finish his sentence, s
he hurried away. Ali ran to catch her mother’s hand.

  Anger surged through Ishmael.

  How dare she turn away from me. Who does she think she is?

  Determined as ever, he faced the people again. “No! I tell you, they’re made of flesh and blood just as you and I, and I’ll prove it to you.”

  He spied two of his cronies who had crept out from the hovels and shelters they had constructed, silently watching the commotion. Their faces were gaunt and their skin sallow from hunger. Ishmael regarded them with new hope.

  “You two! Come ride with me again. Find the others and together we’ll capture the unicorns and bring back their horns to prove it.”

  “No, not their horns. You’ll have to kill them first,” shouted the baker’s wife.

  The angry voices of the crowd erupted again. Following the boy’s example, they too picked up the spoils of the wedding and began pelting Ishmael.

  “Break the curse!” shouted the hag, throwing a soft tomato.

  “Ishmael must go,” cried the old man, bending to pick up some slop.

  “Leave!” bellowed the merchant, pointing a strong arm at Ishmael.

  Ishmael’s heart raced. He realized he was in grave danger. Running, he stooped and dodged the rubbish. A jagged piece of bone caught his shin, and he screamed in pain, the blood trickling on his clothes. Something hard hit his neck, smarting.

  “You’ll see,” he cried. “You’ll all see.” He turned to his cronies. “Men, if you have the guts, you’ll join me – tonight!” Then he fled, humiliation burning within him.

  That evening, Ishmael waited hidden in the dark shadows of his home. He lit no candles in case the townspeople should find him. His clothes were torn and stained, the stench of the rotten food filling his nostrils. Tears streaked his face when he remembered the sweet and chubby face of his daughter Ali.

  “I had no idea how much I loved that little girl,” he whispered aloud, remembering her bright eyes and soft curls. “I was too busy making gold to realize it.” Loneliness ripped his soul. Remembering Ali’s bruised little body when she lay dying of the plague, remorse overcame him. “I’m sorry I didn’t help when you were so sick. I was just too scared. And now I’ve lost both of you.”

  Self-righteousness filled him when he thought of Adiva. “Oh, Adiva. Don’t you know that I was only doing all this to give you more?” But he knew in his heart that he was lying to himself. He had done it all out of pride.

  Ishmael lay crumpled for what seemed hours until the sound of crunching steps outside startled him. He leapt up, snatched a stick, and crept to the door. He flung it open with a loud creaking sound, but his grip loosened when he recognized his own men.

  “You’ve come after all,” he said, wiping his sweaty brow.

  “We’re hungry,” one of the men mumbled.

  “Adiva’s gone,” he said, his voice cracking for only a second, “but I’ll cook you something.”

  With that, Ishmael fed the men, explaining his observations about the unicorns to surprised ears while they ate. He enjoyed the men’s attention and was soon plotting the capture of more unicorns.

  Who needs Adiva when there are more unicorns to harvest?

  With the appearance of his men, Ishmael had lost all remorse.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Final Battle

  For days, the unicorns huddled together, hidden in the depths of the sombre gray forest, waiting for the backlash of Zackary’s foolhardiness. Zackary sulked outside of the group, gazing to the mountains beyond. Azaria felt sorry for his cousin, but knew he had to be firm.

  Several days later, they came. Azaria saw them from afar – Ishmael and his cronies moving steadily toward the unicorns’ hiding place.

  “Camouflage!” he cried.

  Within seconds, the unicorns blended into the landscape, scarcely breathing.

  Ishmael drew up, smirking.

  “Stinks like live unicorn,” he said, scrunching up his nose like a rat. He turned to his cronies, sneering. “Must be one around here somewhere. Hmmm ... now let’s see.”

  He raised his bow and pulled an arrow from his quill. Drawing the arrow back, he aimed at a rock. It whistled through the air and struck its mark with a smack. A wild-eyed unicorn burst forth from what had been the boulder. It whinnied and galloped away. His heart pounding, Azaria dared not breathe.

  With a loud snap, Ishmael released another arrow into a large stump. Angry as a wildcat, Polaris sprang forward, the arrow thrust in his side.

  “Fly!” the Great Stallion roared.

  Unicorns erupted from the trees, rocks, and bushes after their leader. They rode the wind, their neighs piercing the air until they arrived a safe distance away. There they stopped, gasping for breath, their faces filled with terror. Azaria did a quick count – there were five casualties.

  “Quickly,” ordered Aurora. “We must heal the wounded.”

  The mares moved in and tended to the injured.

  “Ishmael’s figured it all out,” saidAzaria, puffing. “He knows we’re not spirits, and now he’s convinced the others.”

  Polaris shook, his eyes rolled back. “So then all we can do is flee.”

  “I’m afraid so.” Azaria said. “When we see them coming, we mustn’t camouflage anymore. So long as they can smell us, they’ll be able to find us. We have to escape first, and then blend later when we’re outside of their vision.”

  “Then so be it,” said Polaris, struggling to catch his breath.

  He’s too old for this. I have to protect him. He’s not like the father I’ve always known.

  The chase continued, the humans in hot pursuit, the unicorns barely escaping. Three more mares were hit. Taking just enough time to heal their wounds, they fled once again.

  “How long can this go on?” asked Aurora after several hours. “We mares carrying foals need rest.”

  “I don’t know,” said Polaris, his voice strained.

  “Father, we can lure the humans from the herd if we outsmart them,” said Azaria. “If we distract them with a few of the young stallions, then the mares can slip away.”

  “I agree,” said Aurora, drawing up close to her mate. “We really need to get to safety or we’ll lose the foals.”

  “Alright, let’s do it.”

  Aurora led the mares away, while Azaria gathered up his buddies and explained the plan.

  Zackary smiled. “That’s my kind of fun. Thanks for including me,” he said, his gaze lowering to the ground.

  “You’re welcome,” said Azaria. “And Zackary ... we all make mistakes, you know. Yours just happened to be a very dangerous one. It’s all forgotten.”

  Zackary gave a humble smile. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  The young unicorns lay in wait, camouflaged until they heard the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves against the rough stones.

  “Now!” commanded Azaria, dropping his camouflage and letting out a mocking whinny. Ishmael drew his weapon.

  “Over here, buddy,” called Zackary, neighing on Ishmael’s left.

  “What?” said Ishmael, glancing at Zackary, and then back to Azaria. He released the arrow in Azaria’s direction, but the unicorn was already gone. Turning back, Ishmael found Zackary missing too. Then Gaelan appeared in the forefront, Azaria opposite him. Bewildered, Ishmael aimed and missed again.

  “What the ... What’s going on here?” he grumbled.

  “I don’t know, boss,” said one of the men. “They just keep disappearing.”

  “Keep chasing them!” commanded Ishmael.

  The hunt continued for several hours until the sun sank low in the sky and the humans pulled up their horses.

  “Let’s call it day. We’ll try again tomorrow when the light’s better,” Azaria heard Ishmael say.

  When the men had laid out their camp and settled for the night, Azaria addressed his fellow stallions. “Let’s go on a little further ahead. We can take turns sleeping. But one of us must keep watch at all times.” He turned t
o Zackary. “Do you want to go first?”

  “Be glad to,” said Zackary.

  “Then you must stay hidden close to the trail while we sleep among the trees.”

  “Yes, sir,” Zackary said, his mouth stretched into a proud grin.

  The young stallions kept vigil through the night, changing sentries every few hours. Azaria was the last to keep watch at dawn when the tell-tale sign of smoke curling high into the sky announced the humans were awake.

  “All up, guys,” he commanded. “They’ll soon be here.”

  Despite their grogginess, the unicorns came to life, the confused scramble of their hooves beating the ground. Azaria waited and listened until he saw the sign he was looking for – the mushroom-shaped cloud.

  “You see that big puff of smoke? It means they’re putting out the fire. It’s time.”

  The unicorns placed themselves strategically and waited.

  The plodding sound of the horse’s hooves echoing in the mountains reached them long before the humans did. Azaria gave the signal and the game began again — the crisscrossing and zigzagging.

  “Hey buddy, over here!” Zackary mocked.

  “No, over here,” Nathaniel brayed.

  Ishmael’s arrow flew, barely grazing Zackary.

  Gaelan dove past Zackary, galloping to his left. “That I don’t like. Try me,” he called.

  “No, me,” hooted Azaria.

  Again, the arrow whizzed through the air, this time striking Gaelan full in the chest.

  “Fly!” Azaria cried. “They’re onto us.”

  The group retreated full force up the pathway until they were a safe distance from the humans. They only paused long enough to heal Gaelan.

  “Father,” said Azaria, “we need to get as far away from this madman as possible. He’s too smart.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” said Polaris.

  The clatter of hooves grew louder. Again, the unicorns escaped. But the humans kept advancing.