The Revenge Page 17

  “No, they can't,” said Damien. “But she can, and her father too. I've met him as well.”

  Malcolm frowned. “But humans, Damien. Humans! Have you gone mad?”

  The corners of Damien's mouth curled up into a mischievous smile. “Maybe a little. But I can tell you that you're a lot safer with them than with Seamus and Isabelle.”

  “That could be,” said Malcolm.

  Corabelle took slow steps toward Malcolm, her arm outstretched.

  Malcolm skittered backward.

  “She won't hurt you,” said Damien.

  “But how do I know this isn't a trick?” asked Malcolm.

  “I'll show you.” Damien sauntered to a fallen log and beckoned Corabelle with a tip of his head.

  The girl climbed onto the log and mounted him.

  The unicorns neighed in disbelief.

  “He's been enslaved like the horses,” Gabrielle whinnied.

  “It's a trick. Damien hasn't changed at all,” said Petra. “We're all in danger.”

  “No, you're not,” said Damien. “Just watch.”

  Corabelle squeezed Damien's sides, spurring him into a trot. After a stretch, she leaned to one side and dug her knee into his opposite side. Damien turned in the direction she indicated.

  “Now watch this.”

  The red colt leapt into the air, forcing the girl into a down position. When he lowered himself to the ground, she sat up.

  “You see? Equals. I can do what I want, but she can ask me to turn or to speed up if she wants.”

  The yearlings mumbled with wonder at what they'd just witnessed, thunderstruck that a unicorn and a human could partner together in such a manner.

  When they’d settled down, Damien's eyes grew serious. “So tell me what's been happening with Seamus.”

  Malcolm's face fell. He began recounting what had transpired, his voice bitter. “After Seamus shoved Samuel into the canyon, he forced Isaac and me to promise never to tell anyone what had happened near the cliff on pain of death. Death—his own colt!” He gave his head a sad shake. “Can you imagine? I was so shocked and hurt that my sire could say such a thing, but at the same time, a small part of me still wanted to believe there was some sort of explanation.”

  Malcolm took a large gulp of air and continued. “When we got close to the herd, he scolded and threatened me so I’d stop crying. It was the toughest thing I ever had to do—to act like there was nothing wrong so no one would guess what had really happened. I wasn't even allowed to tell my dam even though she goes along with everything he does.” He bowed his head.

  Damien contemplated his words, his lips pressed tightly together. “What did Seamus tell the herd?”

  Malcolm scowled. “He told them that because of the rain, Samuel had slipped and fallen over the edge. And he had the gall to pretend he was sad about it; he even said a few kind words. That's when I realized what a huge liar he was. He didn't even twitch a muscle.” Malcolm expelled some pent-up air. “It got me to wondering how much of what he had taught me was true. Anyway, he told them Isaac had declared him Great Stallion since he had such superior prowess. Prowess, my eye. Poor Isaac. He was shaking, but agreed with Seamus, his stutter worse than ever.”

  Anger sprouted inside Damien on hearing Malcolm's story, but he shoved it down. “And what happened to Mother and Chrissandra?”

  Malcolm let out a long, sad sigh, then continued. “Seamus declared that since Chrissandra had a birthmark, that she wasn't good enough to have foals because they might carry her birth defect. Her dam was exiled too for the same reason since she gave birth to her. But what he said to Amarah was far worse.”

  Damien held his breath and awaited his words.

  “He said she produced an aberration.”

  A sarcastic guffaw exploded from Damien. “Me? An aberration? Because of my colour? Really? Even though I taught you all new skills?”

  Malcolm nodded, his mouth twisted, his eyebrows raised. “And then, he didn't even wait until morning to send them away. He made them leave at dusk when the night predators come out.”

  Anger reared its ugly head again. Damien fought to keep it down.

  “For days I suffered alone with this horrible secret, keeping myself away from the other foals in case they figured out the truth.” Malcolm's gaze landed on one of the fillies. “Even Petra—my sister. If I had tried to lie, she would have seen right through me, so I kept myself apart from everyone, pretending I was practicing my skills so I could be as good as Seamus.

  “Then you showed up,” he said, his eyes resentful. “I so wanted you to put Seamus in his place, but you gave up too soon and left.”

  “That’s because the fire was spreading too quickly. But tell me more.”

  Malcolm continued. “It was terrible after Samuel died. If you thought Seamus was bad before, you should have seen what he was like after you left. He was so drunk with power, he belittled anyone he wanted, scaring the new foals, and making fun of everyone's weaknesses. But that wasn't the worst. He took to biting anyone who got in his way. And when the others tried to heal their injuries, he wouldn't let them near. He'd make them suffer for days.” Malcolm tsked. “He was so different from Samuel who encouraged us, laughed with us, and listened to us.” His eyes began to blink, but he shook the tears away. “And let me tell you about our initiation. Ha! Some initiation. It wasn't a ceremony about becoming an adult, as it should have been. It was more like a lecture on how stupid we all were. We felt worthless.”

  “Tyrant.” Damien shook his head, still attempting to calm himself.

  “Yes,” said Yasmine.

  “So how did you end up here?” asked Damien.

  “It was because of the fire,” said Malcolm. “Unfortunately, Seamus saw me trying to talk to you and punished me severely. I was the first one to get the new kind of punishment.”

  “What was it?” asked Damien.

  “He forced me to stay away from the herd for weeks, walking several steps behind the older unicorns until he decided I was fit enough to rejoin the herd. At first, I accepted it, but then one day, something rose up inside of me that I couldn't ignore—a sense of justice. And I realized I wanted to be like Samuel, not Seamus. And so I set out to do just that.

  “I pretended to be obedient,” Malcolm continued, “but when Seamus wasn't looking, and Isabelle was nowhere in sight, I started whispering messages to my friends. The messages were short, but I knew I had to get the others on my side soon or live a life of despair.”

  “I was the first one he spoke to,” said Yasmine. “He told me we deserved better than this and that he had a plan. And then he asked me to tell the other yearlings.”

  “Then after that message,” said Yousef, “he told me, ‘Let's escape Seamus and begin our own herd.’ And I passed that on to the other foals.”

  “Then he said to wait for the signal on the night of the dark moon,” said Jeremy, “and that we were to shadow-walk away.”

  “What was the signal?” asked Damien.

  Malcolm gave a sheepish smile. “I was supposed to call out, ‘Look. It's Damien!’ to distract everyone just long enough so we could disappear into the night.”

  “But didn't anyone notice you were missing?” asked Damien.

  “No, because of the dark moon. It was pitch black,” replied Malcolm.

  “Then why would they believe I was there if they couldn't see me?” Damien asked.

  “Fear, I guess. You were rather frightening that day you lit the wildfire,” Malcolm said with an apologetic smile.

  The others giggled nervously at his words.

  After the laughter died down, Malcolm continued. “Anyway, it worked. But we knew Seamus would come after us in the morning, so we kept travelling all night. We shadow-walked most of the way, being careful to hide our droppings in out-of-the-way places by covering them with dirt and twigs. That was three days ago.”

  They sat in silence as Damien digested their story. “So what are you going to do now?”

/>   Malcolm straightened up, “Like I said, we want to start our own herd.”

  “But what about the others you’ve left behind to suffer under Seamus' rule?” asked Damien.

  The yearlings exchanged remorseful looks.

  I know what you can do. It was Corabelle.

  “What?” asked Damien.

  Meet them dead on. You're all young and strong, and Seamus knows Damien can throw flames. I just wonder how Seamus would react if he believed you were allied with the humans?

  “Allied with the humans?” asked Yasmine, her eyes rounded.

  Corabelle's lips stretched into a smile, and her brows rose as she gave a very deliberate nod.

  Chapter 39

  The Showdown

  The next morning, Corabelle sent Phineas ahead of the others. “Let Aunt Agatha know we're coming. And tell Papa to find his bow and arrow. He'll need it.”

  The whiskey jack cocked his head as he listened, then sped away, his head thrust forward with determination.

  The group set forth, a triumphant Corabelle riding Damien. The day seemed to last forever, but when they finally arrived at the camp, the herd held back while Damien delivered Corabelle to her kin.

  Aunt Agatha and Papa's mouths hung open as they stared with incredulous eyes at the small band of nervous unicorns semi-hidden in the trees.

  “These are yearlings from Red's herd,” announced Corabelle as she dismounted Damien.

  “So they did survive the wildfire,” said Aunt Agatha, clapping her hands together.

  “Yes, but they need your help,” said Corabelle. “They've deserted the others because the Great Stallion has gone mad.”

  “Gone mad? How?” asked Aunt Agatha.

  Corabelle recounted the story of the yearlings’ escape and the grave danger they faced if caught. Aunt Agatha and Papa listened intently, their eyes widening with each horrifying new detail.

  “So it’s likely that Seamus will come after them?” asked Papa.

  Corabelle nodded. “That's why they need your help. It’s time to stand up to him. Is your bow ready?”

  “Yes,” said Papa. “I retrieved it from the back of the cave as soon as Phineas delivered his message.”

  “Good.” Corabelle turned and glanced at the unicorns who still pawed nervously in the woods. “Let the herd rest tonight. We can leave first thing in the morning. I'll explain our plan as we travel.”

  “All right,” said Papa, giving her a resolute nod. “You’re in charge.”

  The next day, they set out, Phineas scouting out the territory ahead of them.

  The wild unicorns followed a safe distance behind Aunt Agatha and Papa, giving uneasy snorts and retreating on skittering hooves each time the humans slowed.

  “They'll get used to you after a while,” said Corabelle, turning to Papa.

  “I hope so,” he said.

  When Phineas returned that night, he floated down to Corabelle and landed on her shoulder.

  “What is it, Phineas? Did you find them?” she asked.

  The bird clicked his beak in her ear. Corabelle's eyebrows rose, and her mouth formed an O as he imparted the message to her. When he finished, she translated to Aunt Agatha.

  “He says he found them about a half-day's walk from here. There's a bluff that overlooks their hiding place, so we can watch them before carrying out our plan.”

  “You're sure this is going to work?” asked Papa.

  “We have to try at least, don't we?”

  Papa nodded.

  “Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have something important to do.” Corabelle approached Malcolm and Yasmine who still danced on anxious hooves. With a simple raising of her hand, she calmed them, then led them away from the herd. An hour later, they trailed behind her like puppies to where Aunt Agatha and Papa stood.

  “How did you tame them so quickly?” asked Papa.

  “I didn’t. I just talked some sense into them,” she said as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

  Shortly after sunrise, the next day, when the air was crisp and the sun sent pillars of rays through the trees, they continued their journey. Corabelle further explained their plan as they travelled, Papa nodding from time to time. After a while, Phineas dropped from the sky and perched on a branch.

  “What is it, Phineas?” asked Corabelle.

  The whiskey jack cooed in a quivering voice.

  The girl turned and faced Papa, her voice urgent. “We're getting close,” she said. “From here on, we can't talk in case Seamus has spies in the woods.” Leaning forward, she whispered to Damien, “Shadow-walk.”

  Damien broke into the silent gait, the other unicorns following suit. But Aunt Agatha and Papa's very human steps still announced their every move.

  “This isn't going to work,” said Papa. “They'll hear us long before we've arrived.”

  “If only we could do that silent walk,” said Aunt Agatha.

  “But you can,” said Corabelle.

  “What do you mean?” asked Aunt Agatha.

  The girl gave a soft whistle. Ears flicked within the small herd, then Yasmine and Malcolm emerged from the tight-packed group.

  Offering a patient smile, she said, “All right, you two, you know what to do.”

  Obedient, the two unicorns walked to where Papa and Aunt Agatha stood waiting.

  “Hop on,” said Corabelle, mischief dancing in her eyes.

  Papa and Aunt Agatha shared a dubious look, then climbed aboard. Yasmine and Malcolm tensed for a moment, then broke into the shadow-walk and followed Corabelle.

  “This is amazing!” cried Aunt Agatha. “I’m actually riding a unicorn.”

  “Me too. I never thought something like this would happen to me,” said Papa, his face lit up like the sun.

  A few hours later, they reached the ridge and peered through bushes to the scene below.

  “That's got to be Seamus,” whispered Corabelle to Papa. “Look how angry he is, nipping at the others.”

  “What's he saying?” asked Aunt Agatha.

  Corabelle listened with her mind, her face contorting at what she heard. “It seems he just got back from looking for the yearlings, and he's mad as a hornet's nest that he couldn't find them. And now he’s trying to send out other stallions to search for them, threatening them if they don't succeed.”

  “The big bully,” said Aunt Agatha. “And what is he threatening them with?”

  “Shunning.” She rolled her eyes, then let out a giggle. “But if I were them, I’d join the yearlings and never come back.”

  ***

  It was near dark when they finally made their move. The young unicorns stumbled into the clearing feigning exhaustion to where the herd huddled in misery under the canopy of a large tree for the night.

  “It's the yearlings,” whispered one of the mares. “They're back.”

  Small gasps swept over the herd.

  Seamus wheeled about, a wicked expression of glee on his face. “So you couldn't handle it on your own, I see. I knew you'd all return. You're all stupid foals who aren't ready for the real forest yet and probably never will be.”

  The young unicorns stood in silence, heads hanging as though repentant.

  “What? Got nothing to say for yourselves?” mocked Seamus.

  Isabelle let out a sarcastic laugh. “You should have listened. I bet you're all half-starved. You couldn't find your way around the burnout, hmm?” She waited for them to answer, but when they failed to satisfy her with a response, she continued. “But that serves you right for thinking you can just take off like that.”

  Seamus scanned the small band, his scowl changing to an expression of concern. “Where's my son?” he asked. “Malcolm?”

  Isabelle did a quick count. “Did he not make it back?” For a moment, fear shone in her eyes.

  A shrill neigh resounded in the air, and the yearlings parted, creating a pathway.

  “It's Damien,” a mare's voice quivered.

  “Damien?” The n
ame echoed across the herd.

  “With a human on his back. Quick, camouflage!” shouted a stallion.

  Shrill whinnies ripped the air as they melted from sight.

  Ignoring them, Corabelle and Damien paraded between the two lines, followed by Malcolm and Yasmine who carried Papa and Aunt Agatha.

  “Save it!” shouted Damien. “They know you're here.” When no one responded, Damien repeated himself, “I said, they know you're here. Come out now!”

  “You lie,” neighed Seamus from the safety of his invisibility.

  “No. These humans know about everything—riding the wind, camouflaging, shadow-walking, the healing. I showed them.”

  The herd remained concealed, soft rumbles and snorts rising from empty space. Someone let out a cough, and another a sneeze. Then one by one, the unicorns let down their camouflage, their muscles tensed, ready to flee.

  “You shame the Legacy of Azaria,” shouted Seamus, his upper lip curled in disdain.

  “No,” said Damien. “They're our allies.”

  “Your allies?” Seamus roared. He shot a skeptical look at Isabelle, then burst into a maniacal laugh. “Do you really believe they’re your allies? Don’t you realize you are nothing but their slaves just as the members of Solomon’s herd were Ishmael’s slaves during Azaria's time.”

  “No.” Damien gave his head a slow and deliberate shake. “It’s you who has enslaved the herd with your cruelty. That's why the yearlings left. And don't think I've forgotten that you killed my father and banished my mother and Chrissandra either.”

  “I had to. They produced imperfect offspring.”

  “Do you mean like me?” asked Damien, taking an imposing step forward. “Me?” he repeated, as though it were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Because I was red and had gifts that you could never equal? Did I scare you? Me? A small colt?”

  “Well…”

  “Or were you afraid I'd challenge you someday?”

  Seamus' jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. “You impertinent little–”

  “It's true, isn't it? And then you killed my father and declared yourself Great Stallion over Isaac?”