The Legacy

by Suzanne de Montigny

  Azaria thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He couldn’t remember having had such a wonderful time in his whole life. He wished it would never end ... but it did, all in an instant, when a loud, hissing sound filled the air. The singing stopped dead as the unicorns looked up, their eyes filled with horror.

  Chapter Four

  The Great Fireball

  “A giant fireball!” cried Azaria.

  The unicorns stared in silence, their mouths gaping.

  A huge boulder burned and hissed as it hurled through the air toward the earth. Sparks flew everywhere, threatening to ignite the grasslands of the valley. The giant rock whizzed through the heavens until it disappeared from sight. The herd waited, but nothing happened. Several seconds later, a loud crash thundered far in the distance and the ground shook. Azaria’s body slammed into a boulder.

  The unicorns erupted into panicked neighs. “It’s what the dinosaur predicted!” shouted a male.

  “There’ll be monsters on two legs!” cried a female, her thin voice piercing the air.

  Azaria struggled to get up. He pushed with his forelegs, but a sharp pain shot through his hip.

  “Mother,” he called, “I can’t get up ... Mother?” He listened for the reassuring sound of her voice over the cries of the others, but couldn’t hear her.

  “What if there’s another one?” screamed a hysterical mare. “The valley will burn!”

  “Quiet! All of you,” Mohala’s thunderous voice shouted over the frightened crowd. “We are unicorns, not hyenas. You will all stop the hysterics.” When the noise subsided except for a few sobs. Mohala continued. “Now stand at attention and listen to Polaris, the Great Stallion.”

  Polaris appeared before his herd looking shaken. “Unicorns, I believe what we just witnessed could be the beginning of the change young Darius spoke of. I hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon, but here we are. And now we must be strong and stand united, swallowing our fear, for it’s our fear, not the fireball that threatens to destroy us. We have three strong herds and I know we can survive this. Now let’s begin by helping those in need, and from there, we’ll decide what to do.”

  Azaria felt soothed, yet confused by his father’s words. He struggled to rise again, but rolled back to the ground in pain.

  “Father!” he called, “I’m here. I can’t get up.”

  Aurora and Polaris dashed by his side.

  “What happened?” asked Aurora.

  “The earth shook so hard I fell on that sharp rock.” He tried to hoist himself up again. “If I can just get up a little further ...” He groaned. “I could maybe stand.”

  “Azaria, stay still!” ordered his mother.

  The colt tried again.

  “Just stay still!” commanded Polaris.

  “No ... I think I can –”

  Polaris lunged at Azaria with his horn. The colt fell back, his eyes wide, but the horn settled softly on the very spot that stung. He yelped in pain.

  “Stay still!” Aurora repeated.

  It came slowly at first – a warmth that grew hotter and hotter until it nearly burned. Azaria squirmed and, just as he was ready to cry out again, the heat subsided and along with it, the pain. Glancing up, he saw his father grin, one eyebrow raised as though they had just shared a very good secret.

  “Feeling better?” Polaris asked.

  “How did you do that?”

  “A new lesson for you, my son,” he said. “Healing! Something you’ll be able to do once you get your horn.”

  “Me? Really?” Azaria rose slowly, testing his hip, astounded by the small miracle. Then something caught his eye. “Mother, that mare has cut her head and ... oh, look ... that one’s bleeding really hard! What if she dies?” He tottered to the first mare, still cautious of his injury.

  “Just watch, Azaria,” Aurora said, coming up beside him.

  Again, he was dumfounded when his mother touched her horn to the wound and the gash in the mare’s head miraculously sealed itself.

  Azaria looked around at the scene of destruction in awe as the unicorns tended to one another. Ever so gently, Dorianna, Nathaniel’s dam, ambled to the bleeding mare, and laid her horn on the gash. The bleeding stopped, and the mare calmly rose and joined the group.

  “Now you know why we have to stick together,” said his mother, “in case something happens. It’s how we survive.”

  A feeling of brotherhood filled Azaria. “I never knew, Mother. It’s amazing. It’s ... because we’re unicorns.”

  “That’s right.” Her smile was serene.

  The unicorns continued one by one to find the injured among them, and to heal them. A gash on a leg became new flesh, a broken rib became whole, and a torn ear reshaped itself. They worked hard until near dawn, and then huddled close together to sleep, far from the comfort of the banyan tree.

  Azaria trembled as he imagined what the change would bring. Something very large and ominous had struck the earth. Darius’ prophesy echoed in his brain. What did it mean? What would happen now? His thoughts whirled in his head as he fell into an exhausted sleep. Then, morning crept in again like a cruel, twisted beast. It was the dawn of a new era.

  Chapter Five

  The Change

  The sky was black, and his nostrils stung when Azaria awoke the next morning. He coughed long and hard.

  “Mother,” he called, “I can’t breathe. There’s smoke everywhere … and why is it so dark?”

  “It’s the change, Azaria,” she said, her voice quivering.

  Memories of the events of the night before jolted him. He spun in circles, bewildered, at snow drifting slowly like wispy feathers to the ground. He had heard about this stuff, so soft and cold, and how it would fall to the earth from a grayish-blue sky when the air was chilly. But when he opened his mouth to catch some flakes, neither was it cold, nor did it melt on his tongue.

  “This isn’t snow, is it, Mother?” he asked, spitting out the dry, bitter flakes.

  “No,” she said. “It’s ash. I’ve seen this before after lightning strikes. It’s what’s left over after things burn.”

  He remembered the sparks that flew from the fireball, and then asked, hesitantly, “Mother, when’s the sun going to rise?”

  “It’s not,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s gone,” she said in the barest of whispers.

  “What happened to it?” he asked, his eyes growing wide.

  “I don’t know.”

  Waiting for her to nuzzle him and tell him everything would be alright, Aurora said instead, “Just stay close to me and the herd, okay?” And then she turned away.

  Azaria didn’t like this new side to his mother. She had always been so strong and reassuring, but now she seemed almost as afraid as he was. He rubbed his face on her soft cheek, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  Unnerved, he turned and searched for Gaelan, who stood shivering close to his dam. His friend jumped, when Azaria approached him from behind.

  “Gaelan, there’s something really wrong. The sun’s gone!”

  “I know. I heard the mares talking,” Gaelan whispered. “They say it hit the earth last night.” His face crumpled, and he burst into tears. “I’m so scared. What are we going to do?”

  Azaria was taken aback at Gaelan’s cries. “I don’t know.” His gaze swept over the herd, and he made a quick decision. “Father told us not to be afraid, so let’s act like everything’s normal, and then maybe we’ll feel better.”

  “Okay.” Gaelan sniffed. “I guess if you can do it, I can too.”

  “Good,” said Azaria, speaking as though he were Polaris himself.

  In the weeks that followed, the world was cast in darkness. No daylight welcomed dawn, and no gentle moonlight or stars lit up the night sky. The white ash continued to float to the ground, covering the grasses the unicorns needed to survive. They huddled together, scraping through the soot to find any bits of green they coul
d. But, most of what they found was brittle and dry, and so the herd grew thinner by the day. The river banks too were piled high with sludge as it struggled to clean itself of the grunge that had fallen like filthy snow into its life-giving waters. And sadly, the banyan tree where the unicorns gathered, grew grey and collapsed one dreary day.

  Equally bad were the nightmares Azaria suffered each night. Spectres of two-legged monsters invaded his dreams, and he often awoke, breathing hard and bathed in sweat.

  “Mother,” he whimpered one day, “will the sun ever return? I’m freezing. I’m always cold. And I’m hungry. I want food.”

  Aurora turned to her foal, her eyes tired and head drooping. “I know. We’re all hungry. I don’t think anyone could have ever imagined the change would be this bad,” she said. “But you know, all bad things have to end. And this surely will, too. Remember what Darius said, that the plants would change?”

  “Yeah,” Azaria said, his ears pricked forward at the hope in her voice.

  “That means that something will grow again, and soon we’ll have food. Then maybe we’ll find another banyan tree for our gathering place. He never said that we wouldn’t survive now, did he?”

  “No,” Azaria said, his voice uncertain, “he didn’t. But what if the creatures-that-walk-on-two-legs find us?”

  “Don’t think about it. It’ll only frighten you more. Put it out of your mind. It’s the way of the unicorns.”

  Azaria knew her words were true, and that he had no choice but to find the strength, if for nothing else, at least for Gaelan.

  Yet despite the dismal landscape and the doubt, the foals grew braver each day, drifting further and further from their dams. Sometimes it was to run to the river. At other times, it was to race away without thought into what was once the grassland.

  One day, they wandered away to play a game of Hoof the Soot, a contest Gaelan had invented where the foals pushed ashes back with their hooves to make piles.

  “Let’s see who can make the biggest one,” said Cassi.

  “Mine’s going to be high as a mountain,” bragged Jemmi, sweeping cinders on her mound.

  Azaria pawed at the ground, determined to win. He checked Gaelan out of the corner of his eye. Seeing Gaelan’s mound growing quicker than his, Azaria kicked his ashes back faster than ever. Gaelan looked back and paddled feverishly too, the competition between them fierce.

  Then small wisps of sand began whipping in patterns around Azaria’s heap.

  “Who’s doing that?” he called, his voice accusing. “Gaelan, are you blowing away my dust pile?”

  “No!” growled Gaelan, his scornful eyes landing on the twins. “It’s the fillies!”

  Azaria glared at Cassi and Jemmi, only to be met by confused expressions. He looked back to his pile. Grains of sand danced through the air as they swirled and rippled away from his mound. He watched, spellbound by the pretty designs.

  “It’s the wind!” he said.

  The four foals watched the sandy arabesque, fascinated. Then Gaelan made a discovery.

  “You know, it’s getting so strong, I think it can pick me up.”

  “Me too,” said Jemmi, springing forward.

  The foals abandoned their game, leaping higher and higher.

  “Wow! I almost flew!” cried Cassi.

  “Me too!” exclaimed Jemmi as the wind carried her a short distance.

  But soon the delicate breezes took on an ominous new twist.

  “Ow, that stings.” Cassi pawed at her eyes with her foreleg.

  “What’s happening?” cried Gaelan, rubbing his smarting eyes against his side.

  “I don’t know, but we’d better get back to our dams,” called Azaria. He peered in the direction of the mares, but saw only a blur. Terror seized him. “We shouldn’t have gone so far!” he shouted. “It’s all your fault, Gaelan. It was your idea to come out here!”

  “Not it wasn’t. It was Jemmi who said we should do it,” snarled Gaelan.

  “Was not,” Jemmi shot back.

  “Was too,” said Gaelan.

  “Never mind. Let’s just go!” Azaria shouted.

  He led the way, calling for Aurora. They pressed forward, their eyes tearing as the winds grew stronger. Nearing blindness, Azaria panicked. Soon, large drops of rain pelted down on them to add to their misery.

  A loud crack filled the air.

  “Watch out!” shrieked Gaelan as a large branch crashed down and nearly struck Jemmi. The filly’s terrified screams pierced the air.

  A strong gust of wind knocked down Cassi. Azaria and Gaelan stopped and pushed her back up.

  “I don’t think we’ll ever get there,” cried Cassi, tears streaming from her eyes. “I’m just not strong enough.”

  “Yes, you are,” yelled Azaria above the noise of the wind. “You’re a unicorn!”

  “Yeah, but I’m just a filly!” she wailed.

  “Fillies are strong too!” shouted Jemmi.

  And that’s when Azaria heard it – the call, weak at first, but very real. “It’s Mother!” he exclaimed.

  His strength renewed by the sound of her voice, he plunged forward, the other foals close on his heels. They struggled toward the faint sound. Soot, sand, and rain whipped at their coats, burning their skin. Plowing ahead, they listened for Aurora’s muted call until Azaria saw the dim forms of the mares huddled before him. The foals rushed forward to meet them.

  “Quickly, we must find shelter. The cave is over there,” ordered Aurora, her voice choked.

  “Where? I can’t see!” shouted Azaria over the din.

  Aurora pointed her horn in the opposite direction. Azaria couldn’t make out the cavern, but put all his faith in his mother’s words. They pressed through the hurling winds staggering as they went, their eyes closed in slits until the howling winds finally grew muffled.

  Opening his eyes a little wider, Azaria took in his surroundings. Smooth stone walls enclosed them, and though it was dark, he knew they had arrived safe inside the cave.

  He listened to the savage howls of the winds that tossed the lands about. “It’s so loud, Mother. When will it stop?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Azaria,” she said, her voice wobbly.

  His heart sped at his mother’s uncertainty. Why couldn’t she fix everything like she did before?

  The foals huddled with the herd, as the storm thundered around them. No one played, and no one spoke. After a while, they fell into a fretful sleep until a loud neigh awakened them.

  “The winds are dying down,” called Mohala.

  Azaria sprang from the floor of the cave and strained to see. It was true. The winds had abated. The storm was nearly over.

  The unicorns shuffled about the cave, nickering until the skies grew calm again. Then, one by one, they left.

  Azaria stared in disbelief at what he could see of the devastation in their dark world. The storm had been so powerful it had uprooted trees and flattened them like twigs, leaving a desolate landscape.

  “Look,” cried Gaelan. “The winds blew away a lot of the soot. Now maybe we can find food.” He leapt out, his long legs pounding the earth as he galloped.

  “Gaelan, come back,” shouted Elissa.

  “Food!” cried the unicorns as they darted out onto the plains, prancing and leaping, and wandering further and further from the cave.

  Azaria sprang forward too.

  “No, Azaria. Let’s wait,” cried his mother. “I don’t think it’s safe yet. I’ve heard of storms that sleep, and then reawaken.”

  She was right. Within minutes, the storm surrounded them once more in all its fury.

  Azaria and his mother fled back into the cave, Elissa close behind. The frantic whinnies of their fellow unicorns fighting to return pierced the air.

  Noting the concerned expression on Elissa’s face, Azaria whispered. “Mother, what if Gaelan doesn’t make it?”

  “That’s what I’m worried about too. We’ve got to help him,” she said. “Try calling hi
m. Your voice is higher than Elissa’s and will carry further on the wind.”

  “Alright, Mother. I will.” Standing as close to the mouth of the cave as he could, he called and called, but nothing happened. He shot Aurora a worried glance.

  “Try again,” she said.

  Azaria raised his voice as high as he could and called even louder.

  Then something big flew into the cave, a tangle of legs. It rolled around a couple of times, and then clambered up on all fours.

  “Gaelan!” Azaria exclaimed.

  “Phew, that was close!” His friend gasped for breath.

  “What happened?” asked Elissa, her eyes still moist.

  “I ran out to get some grass. And then, when I saw the storm was starting again, I galloped as fast as I could. I wasn’t sure if I was going the right way, but then I heard Azaria calling me, so I knew I was. And then, all of a sudden, I was here.”

  “It’s those long legs that saved you,” said Elissa, laughing through tears.

  They waited and called a while longer, guiding the unicorns back. When all seemed to have arrived, the herd stayed put until they knew for certain the storm was really over. Remaining close for many days afterwards, no one ventured far from the shelter.

  “Gaelan,” Azaria whispered a few days later, “have you noticed there are some unicorns missing?”

  “Yeah. I heard they were taken by the storm,” said his friend in a hushed voice. “Some of the older ones weren’t able to get back when the winds began again.”

  Azaria’s heart fell. He remembered the group of older unicorns who hung together and reminisced about days gone by, particularly the males they had spied on the night of the revelry. Some of them were gone, and those who remained, hung their heads in sadness.