The Revenge Page 10

  Despondency overtook him at the realization. Seamus has taken away all I’ve ever loved. He lay down and cried bitter tears, tears of hopelessness, tears of love lost, tears of futility. He had nowhere to go, no one to talk to…except Father.

  I need to see him one last time.

  Raising himself to his full height, he caught the wind and retraced his path to the chasm. How much quicker it was when he wasn't dragging the others along.

  The moon cast an eerie light on the floor of the canyon below. Damien's eyes searched for the white mass he knew to be his sire, but it was gone. Could it be possible he wasn’t dead after all? For a moment, Damien's heart filled with hope. If he were alive, Damien could heal him, and they could fight Seamus together. But then, the image of his father's broken body replayed in his mind.

  No. It's impossible. It’s the humans—they’ve taken him.

  Chapter 22

  The Attack

  Corabelle stretched her arms above her head, breathing in the fresh air. Life had been so good since the baron had spoken up for them. Aunt Agatha was well again, and several villagers had visited their cottage requesting remedies from her. They had even made admiring comments about the unicorn painting on the wall. Occasionally, Corabelle had received the odd, curious glance, but for the most part, her family had become part of the community again.

  The initial excitement of finding the unicorn had died down. At first, the villagers had brought out their sick and disabled to be healed. Corabelle relished the memory of the seven-year-old boy who took his first steps, his hands unclenching, his limbs straightening, and how his simple face transformed to one of intelligent thought. And the child who'd been deaf since birth, how his eyes popped open in surprise as he heard sound for the first time. But the spiral horn had its limitations. After only a day, it began losing its strength, taking longer and longer to heal skin lesions and other minor ailments. And so the townsfolk came to a decision—they’d bury the unicorn's remains and revere the horn as a holy relic within the walls of the church, proof that miracles still happened.

  “I'm going to the square to get water,” Corabelle said.

  “All right,” Mama replied, as she poured tea for Aunt Agatha.

  It was so good to have her aunt well again. How Corabelle had missed her. The old woman had regained her previous wit and engaged in card games with Mama, their laughter ringing long into the evening.

  Corabelle slipped on her shoes, picked up the water bucket, then headed to the square. As she raced along, a voice called out to her.

  “Corabelle.” It was Mia, the very girl whose father had been the first victim of the Brain Fever.

  Corabelle broke into a rueful smile. “Hi,” she said, her voice timid as the girl ran from her yard to meet her.

  “Are you going to get water?” Mia asked.

  “Yes, I am.”.

  “Good, then I’ll come with you.” She ran back to retrieve her own bucket.

  They walked along, Mia babbling as they went. “So tell me about the dream you had—the one about the unicorn.”

  Corabelle let out a breath of surprise, then proceeded to recount the story that would have terrified anyone only a few days before.

  Mia listened with fascination, her eyes lighting up with each new detail.

  When they got to the village centre, Corabelle's presence was met with enthusiasm as the townsfolk surrounded her, asking how Aunt Agatha fared.

  Later, when Corabelle entered the door of the cottage, she was still smiling.

  “What took you so long?” Mama asked.

  Corabelle explained what had transpired, about the change in the villagers, and her new popularity.

  Aunt Agatha let out a chuckle as she shuffled the cards. “Seems you've become the local heroine.”

  Corabelle let out a giggle at the thought. “And Mia has invited me to play with the others today.”

  Mama’s arms encircled her daughter. “I'm so glad.”

  “Me too,” said Aunt Agatha. “It's about time. But don't let your friends get in the way of our apprenticeship. You'll be an important person in this town someday.”

  Corabelle nearly burst with pride at her aunt’s words. Life had indeed sorted itself out, or so she thought…

  ***

  Damien waited an entire day before setting out to find the human habitation. The stories he'd always heard about these strange creatures sent shivers down his spine. Were they as dangerous as he'd learned? Or was it all legend—tales that grew with each telling? Were the humans that powerful over unicorns? Could he, Damien, be a worthy opponent to them with his newfound fiery talent? He experimented with it, focusing his anger on tree stumps and small bushes. They all burst into flames.

  Returning to the edge of the canyon, he eyed his surroundings, noting the curious structure that spanned the river's narrowest point. How odd he hadn't noticed it before. Obviously, it wasn't a natural formation; it had to be something the humans had built. Could it be used to cross over the river as an alternative to treading its frigid waters?

  Proceeding with caution, Damien placed an uncertain hoof onto the structure, and then another. When he saw it held, he crossed over it, marvelling at the abilities of the human hands that constructed it. Lowering his head to the ground, he examined the large prints that led to the edge of the woods where the man had first appeared. He listened for the odd, guttural sounds humans made, his ears twitching. Hearing none, he took the path through the trees.

  To avoid detection, Damien shadow-walked most of the way, his eyes darting through the woods as he travelled. Once, he camouflaged when a raven let out a harsh caw. How similar the crow's voice was to a human's. Annoyed at the deception, he let down his disguise and continued.

  When the woods ended abruptly, Damien camouflaged again. He studied the dwellings where the humans lived with interest, stones piled upon stones, somehow holding together. What bound them? Why didn’t they collapse? Looking farther, he noted some structures seemed more important than others, like the one that stood in the middle of the village, whose front extended high into the sky, a crossing of two smooth, cut branches ornamenting it.

  Why two branches? Does it mean something? And how did they become so smooth? Wood like that doesn’t exist in the forest.

  His eyes widened at the false pond opposite the tall structure; a winged human made of stone rose from the centre, water flowing from its mouth. At first, he thought the figure to be alive until he noted its hollow, unmoving eyes. Damien shook his head. How was it possible to do all this? A ripple ran across his hide. Perhaps he was no match for such a foe.

  His glance drifted from the town to the meadows that lay nearby. Straight lines ran through them. How had they ensured the growth of only one type of plant when nature existed in disarray?

  More puzzling yet, was the giant structure that overlooked the town on the hill. Beautiful, yet austere. He wondered what its purpose was. Who lived there and why had they built it far above the village?

  A sharp sound bit the air, a clanging noise. He flinched, ready to flee. His eyes scouring for its source, he found the shiny object that swung about in the tower of the tall building. What was the purpose of such a racket? He soon discovered when humans left their dwellings and gathered near the stone person. They’d been summoned. Damien watched in fascination.

  They wear false skins, but why? He pondered the question. Could it be because they have very little hair to keep them warm?

  As the humans settled before the pond, they began chanting in rhythm.

  Moving forward, Damien stretched his neck to see more clearly. They all faced in the same direction, bowing their heads as a powerful male voice led them, a solemn voice, the voice of an important person. He noted the cross the man wore on his chest matched the one on the tall structure.

  Perhaps he's the Great Human, just like our Great Stallion.

  The crowd broke into speech patterns, saying identical words together.

  It's lik
e when we recite the Legacy of Azaria, only different. The words he’d grown up with, echoed in his mind. We pledge allegiance to Azaria, that we shall always flee humans from here until the end of time.

  He shadow-walked farther, careful to maintain his camouflage until he was in close range of the cluster of humans. That's when he spied the hole they'd dug in the ground. He'd made small holes in the mud by the creek with his hooves as a young colt, but this one was much larger. Edging forward, he peered through the crowd.

  Was that an ear he saw? A bit of white mane? He gasped. Father! They did take him, but why have they placed him in this human-made hole? When he saw the pile of dirt that lay alongside the pit, he understood. They're going to cover him with soil, so the wolves can't eat him.

  For a moment, Damien felt respect for the strange, nearly-hairless creatures…until the chanting grew louder, and the Great Human raised a long object high above his head. Damien strained to see what it was, then reeled.

  It was Samuel's horn.

  They've desecrated him the same way Ishmael desecrated Polaris thousands of years ago.

  Panic rose within Damien. Releasing his camouflage, he threw himself into the air and let out a fierce neigh—a battle cry.

  The crowd stumbled backward, their voices raised in fear.

  “A red unicorn!” shouted a man, the same one he’d seen near Samuel’s body. “He's come to take revenge for the other one's death.” He picked up a rock.

  “No, don't!” The Great Human who wore the crossed sticks called, but not fast enough.

  The stone grazed past, narrowly missing Damien.

  The unicorn's anger mounted. He aimed his horn at the hunter. A flame shot forth, striking the stone figure in the pond. It shattered into dust.

  The humans scattered, their shouts filling the streets.

  “To the church!” commanded the Great Human.

  Making an abrupt turn, the crowd hurried toward the stone building.

  Damien aimed his horn again and fired. The flame blasted the steeple, reducing it to rubble. The humans changed direction, scrambling to smaller buildings, while others disappeared into the woods.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Damien glimpsed the Great Human snatch the horn and dash away. Damien let out a loud neigh and gave chase. How dare he desecrate my father! Rage surged through him. He aimed again, his intent murderous.

  But his father’s unwanted words whispered in his mind. Unicorns don’t kill.

  He hesitated long enough for the man to escape. But his anger was unappeased. He felt the urge to destroy every dwelling in the town. That wasn't killing anyone. He swung about, searching for a place to start. Eyeing the smaller structures, he abandoned his plan knowing there could be humans inside.

  His rage began to dissipate, and he regained control of himself. Bowing his head, he wandered back to where Samuel's body lay in the hole and stared at the shell of what had once been the kindest and most encouraging unicorn he'd ever known. “I'm so sorry, Father,” he said, tears trickling down his cheeks. “You didn't deserve this—Seamus did.” He raised his head and let out a hoarse whinny of anguish, then turned and leapt toward the forest.

  As he rose in the air, he heard a small voice call out.

  Damien turned to see a young female, alone—a child. Why hadn't she fled? Hovering, he pointed his horn, intent on frightening her with a small display of fire, but she stood her ground. What's wrong with her? She should be terrified of me. Then Damien drew in a sharp breath. She had the pale blue eyes of the unicorn. Baffled by what he saw, he fled.

  Chapter 23

  The Reprimand

  Corabelle stared in wonder at the spot near the woods where the red unicorn had vanished into thin air. How marvellous the creature was, how majestic. And its colour so striking—red. Was it providence that she had missed the service that morning in honour of the white unicorn? How odd she'd slept in until the cries of the townsfolk awoke her and that by the time she threw on her coat and raced outside, the creature was already fleeing.

  Corabelle's heart pounded at the intensity of emotion in the unicorn's eyes. They'd shared a look, made a connection. “Someone's betrayed him,” she whispered.

  Her eyes wandered to where the church steeple lay in ruin, the fountain crumbled and water flowing in the streets. It must be the death of the other unicorn. He's angry they took his body. He doesn't understand.

  Corabelle dashed to the house where Mama and Aunt Agatha stood on the steps, still dressed in their night clothes.

  “I heard an explosion,” said Mama. “What was it?”

  “A red unicorn,” Corabelle said, her voice pitched high. “I think he came looking for the other one and was devastated when he saw it lying in the grave. So he destroyed the fountain and the steeple.”

  Mama's face dropped. “Oh, no. I sure hope that doesn’t mean…”

  “What?” asked Corabelle.

  Mama let out a discouraged sigh. “Rupert will probably find some way to blame it on us.” She struck her forehead with the palm of her hand, then headed back into the cottage. “And things were going so well.” She began pacing the room. “We've got to think of something now before they come.”

  “Why, Mama?” asked Corabelle. “You remember what the baron said. He's on our side.”

  “Yes, but the villagers are so superstitious they're bound to change their minds now that a red unicorn has made an appearance and demolished the town.”

  “Well, there's no use facing them on an empty stomach,” said Aunt Agatha. “I'll get breakfast, and then we can figure something out.”

  When the morning meal lay before her, Corabelle only nibbled at it, her stomach too twisted in knots. How could Uncle Rupert possibly blame her family after all that had happened? She thought of Mia, a small ache filling her heart at the friendship that was sure to be lost again.

  It was late afternoon when they heard the knock.

  “Wait here,” whispered Mama as she tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack to peer out.

  The door was shoved open with such force it struck the wall, sending Mama sprawling on the floor.

  Corabelle let out a shriek and ran to help her mother up. Then she saw the crowd that waited outside. It wasn't just Uncle Rupert backed by a few villagers this time. It was a real mob.

  Uncle Rupert pushed his way past Mama. Burly men followed. They grabbed Aunt Agatha first.

  “Let me go, you big ape!” shouted Aunt Agatha, throwing punches.

  “Leave me be! You have no right,” Mama screamed. She took a quick aim at the man’s knee with her foot. He grunted, then forced her outside.

  It was Rupert himself who picked up Corabelle, throwing her light body over his shoulder like a half-empty sack.

  “Mama!” cried Corabelle, pounding Rupert's back with all her might but to no avail. “Put me down!”

  “Not this time.” Uncle Rupert let out a sarcastic laugh, immune to her blows until Corabelle's right foot connected with his stomach. Rupert doubled over and dropped the girl. “You little…”

  She turned to run, only to be blocked by another ape-man. He snatched her under the arms while one of his cronies seized her by the ankles, subduing her thrashing legs.

  The men heaved the two women and girl up the narrow road that led to the castle, lambasting them as they travelled. By the time they arrived at the door of the castle, Corabelle's hair was completely dishevelled and Aunt Agatha's dress torn.

  Rupert pounded on the thick door with his walking stick, still holding his knee.

  “Who goes there?” shouted a deep and terrible voice.

  Corabelle trembled.

  “The citizens of the village,” shouted Rupert. “We've brought witches to his Lordship for sentencing.”

  The upper part of the door opened, revealing a tiny man whose stature mismatched his voice. He stared at Corabelle with curiosity, then at the two women. “And what have they done?” he asked, his voice still booming.

  “They'
ve brought a curse to this town and called upon the demon unicorn. You saw what it did this morning—it demolished the square.”

  The mob echoed his words, their shouts resounding in the surrounding landscape.

  “Silence!” shouted the tiny man, his voice even bigger and more powerful than before. “We’re not blind. We saw what happened. Wait here while I address the baron.” Slamming the door shut, he disappeared.

  They waited for what seemed an eternity. Then the chains of the drawbridge began to creak, and it slowly descended until the wood struck ground. The villagers scrambled, shoving their prisoners ahead of them through a long corridor and finally to the great hall where the baron sat, waiting on his ornately carved seat.

  His lordship let out an impatient sigh as they approached. “Rupert,” he said with a note of disdain.

  “My Lord.” Uncle Rupert gave a deep bow, his face flushing to a crimson red at the baron's condescending tone. “I have addressed you in the matter of these two women and this child in the past. You rejected my claims, but after what happened this morning, I suspect you'll feel differently. Therefore, I request a hearing.”

  The baron regarded him with a raised brow and a twisted mouth. “I'm aware of this morning's events. Proceed.”

  “As I informed you before,” continued Uncle Rupert, “I believe Agatha and her grandniece Corabelle are witches. They both possess the gift of second sight—foreseeing events—as well as communicating without words.”

  The baron frowned. “Yes, we've spoken of this before, but it doesn't prove they're witches. As I said in the past, some people have the gift of music, others the gift of drawing, and still others the gift of invention. I don't see how this is any different. And we've already discussed that Agatha has been of great service to this town in times of need.” He drummed impatient fingers on the arm of his wooden chair.

  “Yes, but remember the drawing of the unicorn on the wall? She foresaw its coming.”