Copyright © 2014 by R.R. Russell
Cover and internal design © 2014 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design by Bert Farnslow
Cover illustration © Ian Schoenherr
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher.
Source of Production: Worzalla, Stevens Point, WI, USA
Date of Production: March 2014
Run Number: 5000978
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
For Isaac
Chapter 1
The unicorn’s nostrils flared at the thief in warning. Her breath came out in puffs of outrage, a visible vapor in the crisp night air. The mare’s deadly horn glinted in the light of the lantern, but the thief stayed calm. He held out his hand, palm down. Then he took the tiny instrument from his pocket, held it to his lips, and began to play.
The flattened ears perked up and turned toward the sound. He’d practiced this song, refined it even more, he believed, than the great Darian ever had. His fingers danced over the holes as he blew, making music to lull the powerful Night Spark. To bring her completely under his control.
Darian, the great herder, was a man of many secrets, and this was one of them. The thief’s throat tightened around his song, his heart caught in the clench of regret. Would Westland ever see Darian again? Would he? It was too easy to succumb to such dark thoughts anywhere on castle grounds, but especially here, in the royal stables.
The thief fitted Night Spark with a halter and led her out of the stall. He could hear the boots of the guards on the cobblestone outside, pacing in a steady, serious rhythm. Alert, strong. Nothing but the queen’s best to guard her best.
Those guards would have a hard time explaining this. It was too bad, but it had to be done. The thief guided Night Spark through the secret opening in the back wall of the stable and into the shaft of darkness—Darian’s passageway. Night Spark shuffled, eyelids drooping, as though she were sleepwalking. The thief slid the hidden panel shut and disappeared with the unicorn into the underground maze.
***
Twig bent to put the last plate in the dishwasher, and Ben scooped a blob of frosting off it. He licked his finger. Twig made a face. She picked up the box of detergent and showed Ben how to open it.
Ben sniffed the citrusy detergent scent—too hard. He sneezed, and his shaggy brown hair flew into his eyes.
“I still don’t understand,” Ben said between sneezes. “How does this stuff get the dishes clean?”
Twig grinned. “Watch.” She poured the detergent into the dishwasher, then shut the door and turned the dial. Ben’s eyes widened. He knelt down, ear to the dishwasher door.
“Water!”
Ben had been raised in another world—Terracornus, land of the unicorns. He’d spent much of his life here on Lonehorn Island, in the Earth Land, as he called it, but he’d never seen modern technology. Until the Murleys had come to Lonehorn Island and built Island Ranch—a home, pony ranch, and informal school for six troubled girls—the island had been abandoned.
“It’s a machine with a motor, like the truck, only it runs on electricity. The same stuff that powers the lights in here.”
“It pumps water over the dishes?”
“I guess so. It sprays them.”
Ben listened for a moment, then threw open the door to the cupboard under the sink, an eager, searching look in his brown eyes. “The water comes from under here.”
Twig turned on the faucet. “It’s all connected.”
“Amazing.”
He pulled on the dishwasher door, trying to open it, but the handle wasn’t visible under the matching panel across the top of the machine, and he kept missing the spot.
Twig bit her lip. Should she ask him now? If not now, when? She couldn’t wait any longer. In just a couple months, her dad would come and take her home, away from the island. “Ben?”
“Hm?”
Twig pressed in and pulled out, unlatching and opening the machine a crack for him.
He peeked inside. “It stopped,” he muttered with a frown.
“I was thinking, since I explained something to you, maybe you could explain something to me.”
“Sure.” He closed the door and started turning the dial every which way. Heavy wash, light wash, super soak, dry. “It dries them too?”
Twig let out an exasperated breath and cranked the dial to the off position. She stood in front of the machine, blocking his view.
Ben rose, brow creased. “What?”
Twig took the note from her pocket. The one Ben had dropped back in Terracornus, before they’d killed Dagger, the bloodthirsty unicorn who’d led the island’s herd to attack the ranch. Dagger had been determined to kill Twig’s unicorn, Wonder, whom she’d raised from birth.
Ben had tried to hide the note from her, but in his haste, he’d dropped it, and she’d slipped it into her pocket. She hadn’t had time to read it until they were safe back at the ranch. And then there’d been so much going on—finding out that Ben was a long-lost relative of the Murleys; Twig’s thirteenth birthday, which she almost hadn’t lived to see; Skyping her dad, who was in the army and deployed overseas, and talking to him for the first time in a year. It was hard to believe that was just yesterday. It was hard to believe that after all they’d done, their work wasn’t over. It was only just beginning.
Twig pressed the note against her jeans, flattening the crumpled paper. She held it out. “What’s going on, Ben?”
“How’d you get that?” Ben snatched it out of her hands and stuffed it in his own pocket.
“You
dropped it. What does it mean?”
Ben crossed his arms over the too-big T-shirt he’d borrowed from Mr. Murley. “It’s nothing. Nothing that I can do anything about.”
“Merrill said—”
“Merrill’s wrong.”
“Fine. Merrill’s wrong. You can still tell me what he meant. What’s going on in Terracornus?”
“The same old problems.”
Twig put on her best “Merrill” voice—gruff yet warm—and quoted his note. “‘It’s worse than I feared here. As soon as we’ve dealt with Dagger, you must come to Westland. For the sake of all unicorns, all Terracornus, you must appeal to the queen.’ That’s what it says. Sounds like more than the same old problems to me.” Twig had the cryptic phrase, written by their friend and old herder, Merrill, memorized. A friend of Ben’s father, Darian, Merrill had come to the island to help Twig learn to ride Wonder and to teach her to wield a short sword and handle a bow.
“But it is the same. There’s always the threat of war in Terracornus. Merrill wants me to appeal to the queen to step down and put a democratic process back in place, so that Westland can be an example to all the other lands, instead of becoming more and more like them. He thinks Westland can be a reminder to all Terracornus of how things were meant to be.”
“Can it?”
“It used to be.” Abruptly, Ben’s expression hardened. “But it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Why does Merrill think you can then?”
“The queen knew my father well. He was the greatest herder in Westland, an important man. But she’s changed. The herders have been disbanded. Everything’s changed. I cannot influence the queen. Not now, not ever.”
Chapter 2
Ben gathered up the books he’d just finished and carried the armful back to the bookshelf in the living room. He carefully slid each one back into place, then stood back and studied the shelves. So many books! So much he didn’t know. After nearly a week at the ranch, he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever understand the way this world worked.
He began pulling out new titles, making another stack. The girls were all hunched over the table in the dining area behind him, working out something to do with numbers, every now and then peeking at him wistfully.
Except for Casey. The youngest of the girls and Twig’s roommate, Casey was huddled in the little space between the end of the bookcase and the couch, her back to Ben, trying to hide the bundle of strange, blue-lined paper she was writing on. Casey loved to hear Ben’s stories about Terracornus and about the unicorns of Lonehorn Island, and then she loved to retell them, making them even better every time. Yesterday, she’d been given an assignment to tell a story, this time on paper.
A tear fell on the pages as Casey flipped her wooden pencil around and jabbed at the writing with its rubbery end. It made a muddy-looking streak. Casey rubbed harder, and the paper tore. Ben moved to put a hand on her shoulder, then hesitated, torn between wanting to mind his own business and wanting to rescue her.
Casey’s writing jumped out at Ben, so full of enthusiasm—and familiar characters—that he couldn’t help reading.
The Grate Gators teeth shutted and he pulled por Joe down and down and the soowamp bumbled up like a grate big buuuuurp! And that was the end off Joe. But it wasunt the end of the story! Ed lassowed Joe’s unicorn Dancers tale and tyed her to his fathefull Thunder, and toled the prensess Margury to grab and hold on. Thunder pulled Dancer and Margury out off the mud and they rode together out off the soowamp and that is how the brave Ed wun the byootifull prensess Margury in the ferst Deth Soowamp Dool.
Casey rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes and rose, clutching the stack of papers to her chest.
“All done?” Ben said.
Casey jumped, and the papers flew from her hands. She fumbled to catch them.
“Sorry.” Ben scooped papers off the floor.
“Don’t look! Please, Ben.”
“Like he wants to look,” Mandy said under her breath.
“Sorry. I already peeked at part of it. And of course I want to read it. It’s good. And it is about the Death Swamp, after all.”
He’d just told the girls that story last night, about how two rivals after the heart of one girl, Margery—not really a princess, but still—fought in the Death Swamp.
When Margery’s suitors heard she’d wandered into the swamp, which few ever came out of alive, they’d each entered from opposite sides, vowing that whoever saved her and emerged with her would win the girl. Both were exceedingly clever, great riders of dauntless unicorns, and they managed to reach the middle of the swamp, where they found Margery sinking into the mud. The two had set aside their rivalry to try to save her, but Joe had been snapped up in the jaws of a swamp lizard.
Ed was faced with a terrible dilemma. Both Joe and Margery had only moments to live. According to legend, Joe had valiantly insisted that Ed save Margery. Just before being dragged into the black waters, he’d pulled out a handkerchief embroidered with the symbol of his herder division, tossed it to Ed, and said, “Give this to Margery, with my love.”
Regina had sighed dreamily at that line, and Ben had wished he’d stuck with a battle story, or at least a story of one of the many Death Swamp Duels that had taken place ever since, usually to settle disputes over land or unicorns. Instead of coming out of the swamp with the girl and the handkerchiefs of their rivals, duelers now fought to capture their rivals’ flags.
Maybe next time, he should just tell the story of the first Death Swamp Duel Casey’s way and leave the romantic gesture out.
Casey hesitated at the blue plastic tray brimming with the girls’ completed work, clutching her story and looking so small. Ben didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to being around a bunch of girls. He picked up a page that had drifted under the table.
Twig gave Mandy a threatening glare and joined Ben in helping Casey put the pages back in order.
“Everybody loves the stories you tell, Casey. I’m sure Mrs. Murley will love this one too.”
“It’s not the same when I have to write it! It’s awful! I know it!”
Gently, Twig took the papers from Casey and placed them in the tray on the side table.
Casey sat down to work on her math with the other girls.
Janessa leaned over to Ben. “Thanks,” she whispered. “She adores you, you know.”
Ben blushed. He knew. She followed him and Twig everywhere. But while she looked at Twig with the trust of a sister, Casey watched Ben expectantly. Like she was always ready to be impressed.
Mrs. Murley emerged from the kitchen, oblivious to the drama, and sat at the end of the table with the contents of the blue tray and a big cup of coffee.
All around the table, pencils stilled. Casey appeared to have stopped breathing. Mrs. Murley picked up Casey’s story and began to read. The corner of Mrs. Murley’s mouth twitched up in a smile. She held an arm out. “Come here, Casey.”
With a sheepish smile, Casey obeyed. Mrs. Murley squeezed her against her side as she finished reading the story.
“This is wonderful, Casey. I knew you could do it.”
The prick of tears came on so unexpectedly. Ben turned away. He felt like he’d been punched in his chest. He wanted to run far away from here, and at the same time, he wanted to stay, to be like Casey and to hear those words he’d never heard from a mother. This is wonderful. I knew you could do it.
You have to go back to Terracornus. You have to go back to the queen. Merrill kept saying it, and now he had Twig saying it too.
What was he supposed to do? Going back there would mean turning his back on the herd. If he went to the castle, he might never return to the island—and for what? To talk to a ruler who cared nothing for what a herder had to say?
“Ben?” Mr. Murley called from the entryway. He sounded out of breath.<
br />
Ben ran to the front door.
Mr. Murley stood in the doorway, boots on, face flushed under the hood of his jacket. Under the cover of the porch, he pushed the hood back, and rainwater spilled over his shoulders. “It’s Indy.”
Chapter 3
“What’s wrong?” Ben said.
A stampede of girls filled the entryway behind him.
“Indy’s getting restless out there,” Mr. Murley said. “I could use your help calming him down.”
Twig reached for her red jacket—the one she liked to zip up like a turtle shell.
“Hold on, Twig.” Mrs. Murley came up behind the girls. “David, do you need Twig out there?”
“I think Ben and I can handle it.”
Twig scrunched her face up. “What about Wonder?”
“She’s a little upset, but she’ll be fine once Indy’s under control,” Mr. Murley said.
Ben bit back a laugh at the thought of Indy under control. He turned to put on his boots, but something thwacked the side of his head. A sock.
“Hey!” Ben pivoted around to face the girls. Twig’s blue eyes gleamed with triumph at her victory.
“What are you smiling about, Ben?” Regina, the oldest after Twig, narrowed her dark eyes at Ben.
“Yeah, it’s not funny that Twig can’t go,” added Casey, with those big brown eyes. Eyes that had searched the woods for him long before that desperate, awful night when he’d come to hide a unicorn here on the ranch. She’d known he was out there, even when he wasn’t supposed to exist.
“I wasn’t laughing at Twig,” Ben said.
“Yeah, right.” Mandy tilted her head of blond curls at him skeptically. Her usual scowl deepened.
“You’re already behind, Twig,” Mrs. Murley said. “Just get that work done, and you can go see Wonder.”
Twig glowered at Ben and flung her jacket aside. She muttered something about it not being fair and fixed her eyes on the rain-streaked window.
Ben picked up the jacket and handed it to Twig over her shoulder. Mesmerized by the rain, lost in thought, she made no move to take it. He gave her pale braid a little tug, and she glanced back at him.
The Unicorn Thief Page 1
