The Revenge Read online

  “I did not!” cried Corabelle, struggling against her captors. “I didn't even know what it was.”

  The baron tsked. “Put the child down,” he said with disgust.

  The burly men reluctantly let her go.

  “Yes, you foresaw it,” continued Uncle Rupert, pointing a crooked finger at her. “Then you and Agatha used the knowledge to conjure up a way to gain control over our village. That's why when Gideon told everyone about the unicorn, you made a pact with the devil to call his demon beast to destroy our town.”

  Aunt Agatha's head jolted back at his ridiculous words. She let out a pffft. “And what could we possibly gain from such a pact?” she asked, her voice dripping with ridicule. “We live here too; in case you hadn't noticed.”

  Rupert recoiled at Agatha's reprimand. “Power, that's what,” he shot back. “All was well while you lay sick and dying, Agatha. Then, the minute you were cured by the magic of that horn, strange things started happening.” He turned to the baron. “I tell you, it's them.”

  “That's the silliest thing I've ever heard.” Mama nearly spat the words.

  “No,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Corabelle. “I saw her conspiring with the demon. I saw her stare into its eyes. I know she was communicating with it as she does with other animals.”

  The crowd mumbled at his words.

  “We shared a look, that's all. And I know how the creature feels. It's angry and hurt. It doesn't understand why you took the white unicorn.”

  “A likely story,” said Uncle Rupert.

  The baron scratched his chin in wonderment, then held up a hand before Uncle Rupert could further interject. He turned to Corabelle. “You say you can communicate with this creature and that it understands you?”

  “I think so.”

  “So if you were to meet with it, could you—with your thoughts—explain to it what happened?”

  “My Lord, that's preposterous!” shouted Rupert.

  The baron discounted him, his gaze fixed on Corabelle.

  “Yes,” she said.

  His lordship lowered himself to her height, his elbows resting on his knees. “Well then, here’s what I propose.” He rubbed his chin again before continuing. “I'll send you with some men—archers to protect you—”

  “No,” said Corabelle, a bit louder than she intended. Remembering her manners, she lowered her voice. “It would only frighten him away, especially if it were Uncle Rupert. I think it can sense what lies in someone's heart. This unicorn needs to know he can trust me.”

  The baron regarded her with awe, then said, “All right, but it'll be dangerous.”

  “I know, but I've talked to animals many times before. I mean, what have I got to fear when I've befriended so many?”

  “True,” said the baron, his voice gentle. “Then tell me what you need.”

  Corabelle stood her full height. “Let me go with Aunt Agatha. She’s like me. It'll know we're there to help. All we need is dried food.”

  “Just dried food?”

  “And a rope.”

  The baron exchanged whispered words with Father Patrick, then nodded. “All right, then. So be it.”

  “But, My Lord,” insisted Rupert.

  The baron gave him an impatient glare and waved him away. “You've had your say, now be off with you.”

  Chapter 24

  The Heaviness of Hatred

  Damien drifted farther and farther into the forest, wandering without aim, unsure where he'd go, not caring either way. He'd lost everything—his parents, his one true friend, his home, plus something else. He tilted his head and pressed his lips together in thought. “Respect,” he said out loud to himself when he found the answer. “That's all I've ever wanted, really. Respect…and love.” His voice caught on the last word.

  He waded into the chilly waters of a stream and dipped his head in to drink, his eyes travelling down his legs at the red colour that the others despised of him. Throwing his head back, he shook his mane and cried out, “What's wrong with being red?”

  His angry words bounced back, unanswered.

  He waited until they had faded to nothing, and then hollered again. “I said, what's wrong with being red? Does it really make any difference? I had more to offer you than all those perfect white unicorns. Far more. I taught you all new skills, and you think I'm no good because I'm red?”

  A huge sob erupted from his chest, nearly choking him. In despair, he threw himself on the bank of the creek, thrashing about in the sludge. When he rose again, brown mud caked his hair.

  Glaring down at the filth, he gave a sarcastic laugh and muttered, “And now I'm brown. Would that make any difference?” Anger swept through him, and he bucked his back hooves into the air, water splashing everywhere. Then he stood on the bank feeling empty.

  An idea struck him. “Xavier in the time of Ulysees was brown…but he was a horse. He was scorned…yet he proved himself. And in the end, he became the father of all horses. He was the one chosen to continue the species.”

  For a moment, he felt hopeful, until he remembered Seamus' glaring eyes. “It'd never happen.”

  A sense of despondency settled over him, casting deep roots. With each day, his feelings of worthlessness grew, his sentiments ripening to a resentment so profound it threatened to explode. When an entire moon had passed, a new and sinister idea emerged.

  “Father said it’s never right to kill, but didn't Polaris kill the Rexus when it attacked a filly? And didn't Seamus attack Father?” He let out a twisted laugh, his thoughts growing even darker. “So doesn’t that mean it's my right to end his life?” His breath caught at the thought, and guilt threatened to destroy his resolve. He pushed it away, then swallowed hard. “There's only one solution to this—revenge! I'll make them pay for what they did. I'll make their lives miserable—all of them.”

  His decision made, Damien leapt into the air and hovered high above the trees, searching the landscape. Where are you, Seamus? Damien had been wandering for such a long time he had no idea where to look. His eyes scanned the countryside searching for familiar landmarks. Strange forests and hills surrounded him. He narrowed his eyes and searched farther. He spied the mountains of his birth in the distance—soft, blue waves misted against the sky—his home. Memories stirred of his childhood. How happy they had been frolicking in the forest near the bubbling creek, venturing out to find tender grasses and purple flowers. Damien gave an angry click of his tongue, wishing they’d listened to mother and stayed there. An unwelcome thought penetrated his hard stance. But, if we hadn't gone, I'd have never met Chrissandra.

  The ache in his heart returned at the recollection of the kind face with the little pink birthmark. She'd accepted him, but wasn't that because she was in the same situation? After all, she was flawed too, though not nearly as much as he. But like him, everyone remained aloof of her.

  What difference does it make anyway? He huffed. They disposed of her.

  His anger renewed, Damien resumed his gaze across the countryside, hunting until he found the small turquoise dot of the lake near the unicorns' woods.

  “There it is.”

  Lowering himself to ground level, he set off in its direction.

  He travelled for days, checking his position from time to time by rising above the trees to gauge his distance. His stomach churned when he thought of what he had to do when he got there. What if they were ready for him? What if Seamus killed him first?

  No, I have to be brave. I must avenge my father's death.

  It was a quiet afternoon, the sun shining a pastel yellow through the leaves when he finally reached the shores of the lake where he'd spent time alone with Father. It was still just as pretty as it was back then.

  His eyes moistened as the memories of Father's lessons filled his mind: when Damien surprised him by revealing he could already shadow-walk and camouflage; how he saved Chrissandra from drowning by teaching her to hover over the water; the pride in Mother's eyes when she saw what a uniqu
e foal she'd borne.

  Shaking away his tears, he stamped an angry hoof, swapping the sadness for hatred. “I need to be strong if I'm going to do this,” he said in a low, but determined voice.

  Gritting his teeth, he spied the trail that led to the unicorn’s home in the forest, then embarked upon it, shadow-walking and camouflaging at the same time.

  He approached the meadow where Father had confronted Seamus as soundless as could be, but when he got there, there were no unicorns to be found.

  Advancing farther, he came to the place where the unicorns had herded together each night. Old droppings littered the ground. Remembering which way they fled, he searched for the new path they had broken. Mere ghosts of their prints marked the soil.

  “They've all gone because of me.” Damien let out an incredulous guffaw and laughed long and hard at the irony of it all. But somehow his newfound power didn't feel quite so good. Instead, desolation filled him. He shook it away and continued roaming.

  Two days later, he heard a sneeze, followed by a faint whinny. He froze. I’ve found them! Summoning up his courage, he planned his moves. It was imperative that no one detect his presence until he was ready to put his plan into action. Camouflaging again, he shadow-walked toward the noises and peered through the leaves.

  Mares huddled together, grazing on small tufts of grass, their nervous tails twitching. New foals clung to their sides.

  Babies! For a moment, his mood lifted at their cuteness until he remembered he wasn’t a part of it. His emotions tumbled back down into the abyss of despair. That means I'm a yearling, and the others were initiated…without me.

  Scanning farther, he spied Yousef at the edge of the herd, standing tall within the ring of stallions who protected the mares. How young he was in actuality, yet how important he looked. The other colts were there too—Simon, Jeremy, and…Malcolm.

  Disgust filled Damien at the sight of the young stallion, at the memories of his maliciousness, of his callousness. He felt the urge to burst out of the bushes to exact his revenge on his colthood enemy until Malcolm turned his head, revealing his face.

  He looks worried! Damien was thrown for an instant. What could he possibly be worried about? He's Seamus' son. An unwelcome thought threatened to melt his resolve. He was upset when Seamus killed Father. Could it be he’s changed? No! He hardened his heart. It can never be. He was cruel to me, and I'll never forgive him for it.

  From the edge of the herd, he heard Isabelle's nasty snicker. He watched as her eyes roamed over the mares, narrowing from time to time, her lips turning up into a smirk. She tossed her mane back, gave a satisfied huff, and then leaned toward Seamus and whispered something. They both snorted with glee.

  Oh, how miserable they are, thought Damien. And petty. If I were the Great Stallion of the herd, I would banish all cruelty. I'd be like Father was. I'd teach everyone to accept each other's differences.

  For a moment, he envisioned himself as chief, laughing and encouraging the youngsters, listening to the mares' concerns, treating everyone with respect. Respect. There it was again—that word. Wasn't that what everyone wanted?

  He shook his head. No, I'll never get it. Not so long as my coat is red.

  Taking a deep breath, he released his camouflage and stepped into the clearing.

  Chapter 25

  The Journey

  Corabelle and Aunt Agatha set out two days later, their packs loaded. Father Patrick and a small handful of people came to say good-bye and to wish them well on their journey.

  Mama hugged Corabelle and Agatha in turn, her eyes moist. “Come back safe,” she said.

  “We will, Mama,” said Corabelle.

  Corabelle's forehead creased when she thought of the trip she and Aunt Agatha were about to undertake. She'd been certain of her ideas when she presented them to the baron, but wasn't so sure anymore. Suppose the red unicorn truly was evil? After all, it had destroyed part of the town. Or what if it attacked her and Aunt Agatha? She didn't think it would, but weren't some creatures bad through and through?

  No, she thought, remembering the exchange with the unicorn. There was a connection. Perhaps not a close one, but a connection all the same. We have to find him.

  They followed the narrow deer trail Corabelle had taken to the canyon, enjoying the sound of birds and the rustle of the wind in the dry leaves. Winter was nearly over, and spring was awakening. Sprouts poked from the ground, promising colourful flowers.

  “It's so good to be here out in the forest,” said Aunt Agatha. “It's been such a long time.”

  “I know.” Corabelle let out a laugh. “And it's good to be away from Uncle Rupert.”

  “Ugh, Rupert!” said Aunt Agatha as she jabbed her walking stick into the ground with ferocity and pushed herself up the trail. “He’s always been so melodramatic.”

  Corabelle pondered her words. “I wonder why.”

  “Guess he wants attention.” She shook her head. “He's been that way since he was a wee boy. Always tattling on someone, trying to get people in trouble.”

  “But why would he pick on me?” asked Corabelle. “I mean, I'm just a child.”

  Aunt Agatha let out a sigh. “Probably because he's always competed with your Mama. She was always smarter, more popular, better-looking, and I guess he never outgrew the habit. In his mind, you're just an extension of her.”

  “Well if you ask me, that's kind of dumb.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Aunt Agatha nodded, her lips pursed together. “Agreed.”

  They walked for a good hour, the leaves crunching beneath their feet, and the forest smells filling their nostrils. As the sun rose higher in the sky, lighting up the floor of the woods, Corabelle basked in its growing warmth. Then something caught her eye. She let out a squeak.

  “Auntie!” she exclaimed. “See that knoll? This is the place I come to visit the animals. Could we please go see them? You can meet them too.”

  Aunt Agatha stopped and stared up at the small hill, a smile lighting up her face. “I think that would be a fine idea. Let’s go.”

  Corabelle led the way up the mound, Aunt Agatha close behind her. When she got to the top, she turned to give her aunt a hand up over the roots that created a natural barrier, but the old lady waved her away, hoisting her own body up with ease. And when they climbed down alongside the waterfall, Aunt Agatha followed Corabelle with strong, carefree steps.

  “It's nice to have my old body back,” Aunt Agatha said, brushing her dirty hands together when they got to the bottom.

  “Yeah, you're doing really well. I've never seen you move that fast in all the time we’ve collected herbs.”

  “It's because of the unicorn. When I touched its horn, it gave me back some of my youth.”

  “Do you think so?” asked Corabelle.

  “Yes, but I wouldn't tell anyone if I were you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I'd hate to see the unicorns hunted to extinction by greedy people.”

  Corabelle sucked air through her teeth at her aunt’s words. “No, that wouldn't be any good.” Looking about for signs of animals, the girl cupped her hands and whistled.

  Aunt Agatha's eyes grew wide with astonishment as the animals crept out of hiding, and birds fluttered down from the trees.

  “Hello, little friends,” Corabelle said. “I haven't seen all of you for such a long time.” The whiskey jack flew down and perched on her arm. “And Phineas. So good to see you.” She ran her fingers along his soft, feathery head. Expecting good-natured tweeting, Corabelle was taken aback when the bird burst into a volley of sharp twitters and peeps.

  “Seems he's mad at you.” Aunt Agatha chuckled.

  “He wants to know where I've been.” Corabelle threw an amused glance at Aunt Agatha, then proceeded to give all her attention to the bird.

  “Well, Phineas, it's a long story.” She made herself comfortable amidst the animals. Ears pricked forward, and noses twitched as they listened.

  Corabelle recounted
the story of the white unicorn, Aunt Agatha's healing, and the destructive behaviour of the red unicorn. Her voice trilled when she told them how their eyes had met briefly and how she'd felt its hurt and confusion. Then angry images of Uncle Rupert filled her head.

  The animals chattered and peeped in fright.

  “Oh, he's not that bad, really,” said Corabelle. “He's just rather grumpy, but he does cause a lot of trouble for us.”

  The girl returned her thoughts to the red unicorn. Nervous chatter erupted once more.

  “No, it’s all right. I'm going to find him and explain it to him.”

  Again, grunts and chatter.

  “No, I don't think he'll hurt you. The truth of the matter is, I think he's just sad.”

  The animals cocked their heads to one side, then the other. Then Autumn moved forward, her whiskers quivering, her mate following close behind. Her brown eyes met Corabelle's and held them.

  “You want to know what you can do to help?” she asked. “Well, I don't know.”

  The rabbit crawled up on Corabelle’s lap, her eyes imploring. She reached up to touch the girl’s nose.

  “I know you want to repay me for saving Acorn, but it's a long journey—too long for you. And besides,” she said pointing to the rabbit's swollen sides. “You'll be having your new litter soon. You need to take care of your babies.”

  Phineas primped his feathers, and then peeped and chirped.

  “It's not too far for you, you say? You want to follow because you can fly?”

  He let out a tweet.

  Corabelle turned to Aunt Agatha. “What do you think, Auntie? Could we use a whiskey jack along?”

  The old woman raised a brow, then said, “I don't see why not. He can feed himself, and we could use a bird's eye view. Besides, he seems pretty hardy.”

  Corabelle turned to Phineas and smiled. “All right, then. You can come.”

  The other animals chattered and snuffled with indignation.

  “No,” said Corabelle giving an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry. You all need to stay here.”