The Legacy

by Suzanne de Montigny

  “Father, they’re getting too close to the mares. We need to do something quick,” Azaria warned.

  Polaris looked beaten. “I know. Go ahead and warn them. I’ll stay behind. If the humans see someone who seems like an easy target, they’ll leave the rest alone.”

  “But that means you could be killed.” Azaria gulped, fighting back the shock of what his sire was proposing. “You can’t go alone.”

  “Azaria, I’m old now. I’ve been leader for a long time. The herd doesn’t need me anymore. They need someone strong and young like you. I want you to follow in my footsteps and keep this herd alive.”

  “Does that mean ...?” Azaria gave his sire an incredulous stare.

  “Yes it does. I knew it would be you when you were very young. You showed signs. Remember the time I took you up the mountain top?”

  Azaria nodded.

  “I said you might be Great Stallion someday, but I knew even then it would be you.”

  “But Father, I need you. We all do. You can’t just –”

  “It’s the only way, my son.”

  “No –”

  “Things have changed, Azaria. This is my last order. Now stand at attention.”

  Azaria raised himself to his full height, knowing it was the most important moment of his life, though probably the saddest.

  Polaris bowed his head and placed his horn on Azaria’s forehead. “I name you the Great Stallion over all the herds,” he said in the formal voice he used with Saul so long ago. “Go forth and take your place as leader. Protect the mares, and above all, stay far from the humans.”

  Azaria stared at his father in disbelief, and then trotted to where the young stallions awaited him. “Fly!” he ordered, rearing high into the air. “To the mares. They’ve rested and we must move them out!”

  “But ...” argued the stallions, “the humans will only follow us.”

  “Polaris’ orders!” he shouted.

  Azaria flew, his head pushed forward to hide the tears. Anger and rage spurred him onward at greater speed. Flying to the top of the ridge, he turned one last time and peered down at the scene below as the others soared by. He saw the arrow whiz through the air and strike Polaris in the heart when he reared to fight off the humans. He saw the noble leader’s stunned expression as his muscles suddenly collapsed, and he crumpled to the ground. Azaria’s heart broke. His eyes stung. But he wasn’t ready for what came next. Before Polaris breathed his last breath, Ishmael sawed off his horn, brandishing it to the victory cries of his cronies. Choked, Azaria turned away, his mind made up.

  He flew, enraged, breaking through brambles and brush, his coat covered in cuts and bruises. He galloped through mud, slipped and fell on his side. Rising again, he realized he had sprained his hock. Testing the ankle a few times, he grimaced with pain, but continued.

  “I have to find the herd quickly or I’m doomed,” he whispered.

  He broke into a canter, keeping the weight off the wounded leg.

  The moon had risen, casting long eerie shadows by the time Azaria arrived in the canyon where the herd hid. He stumbled, exhausted, into the group, and was immediately surrounded by anxious unicorns, mumbling and whinnying at once.

  “Leave him be,” ordered Aurora, “until he’s been looked after. There’ll be time for questions later.”

  Aurora tended to his flesh wounds, and Gaelan manipulated his hock. Azaria flinched until the heat of Galen’s horn relieved the injury. Cassi and Jemmi led him to the cool water of the lake where they washed away the mud and blood.

  After he rested, he turned to Aurora. “Father is dead, Mother.” He whispered the words.

  Aurora broke into sobs and pressed her face against his. Azaria returned the gesture and together they cried. When he was done shedding tears, he gathered up his courage and stood before the herd, his muscles still twitching with fatigue.

  “Unicorns,” he said, his voice tired, but powerful. “It is with sadness that I must announce our Great Stallion, Polaris, has died.” He paused and swallowed. “He gave up his life so we could live on; he said it was what was meant to be.”

  The herd listened, ears pricked forward as Azaria told of his father’s bravery, how he met the humans, and how they had murdered and desecrated his body. The unicorns lamented, their mournful cries echoing in the mountains until Azaria silenced them.

  “Quiet! All of you. Do you want them to find us?” he shouted.

  They stared in shock at his fierce order.

  “Our lives have changed forever! Do you understand that?”

  The softest of hiccoughs could be heard.

  His gaze swept over the crowd. “We can never return to our valley. Ever! We must travel further and further into the woods where the humans can’t find us.”

  The mares whimpered, eyes wide with fright.

  Azaria continued. “Tonight, before Polaris died, he named me Great Stallion. And it’s on this night, I will begin a new legacy – my legacy, the Legacy of Azaria, and that means you shall all pledge allegiance to flee the humans until the end of time. And when the foals are born, we shall train them in the arts of Darius as soon as they are able.”

  Dumfounded, they awaited his words. Not a sneeze or snort was heard.

  Azaria continued, “And now as your new leader, I command you to bow your heads and take your vows.”

  Each unicorn lowered its head, pointing its horn toward Azaria. Together, they vowed their allegiance, their unicorn voices trembling with emotion. Then Azaria began a new chant, his voice rising above the others’.

  “We will survive.”

  “We will survive,” the herd joined in, the power of the words overtaking them as they recited. It rose to a crescendo, and then died down.

  Then one by one as they finished, they turned to follow Azaria, beginning their exodus, their heads held high.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Destruction

  Ishmael and his men burst into town, lightning bolts shattering the quiet before a storm. He waved Polaris’ horn high in the air like a victory sword, shouting as he rode. His men followed, whooping and hollering, their hair flying like banners.

  A loud scream filled the air when they entered the town, their horses’ hooves clattering against the stone street.

  “He’s killed another one!” a woman shrieked, snatching her baby as she hurried to escape the galloping horses.

  “The curse!” cried an old man hoisting himself up with his walking stick.

  The streets flooded with terrified townsfolk.

  “He’s done it again. Imprison him,” someone else cried out.

  “Stone him!” An old lady spat the words like venom.

  The cloth merchant shouted, “Yes, it’s our only chance to break the curse. Stone him!”

  “No!” cried Ishmael. “I tell you there are no spirits. They’re alive. I have the Great Stallion’s horn to prove it. Do you hear me? The Great Stallion! Do you know how much power there is in this horn?” He descended his foaming horse in one gallant swoop.

  “Enough power to destroy us with his wrath. The town will be demolished!” shouted the cloth merchant again. “Stone him!”

  “Stone him, stone him, stone him,” the people began chanting, their voices rising to frenzy.

  “Ask my men. They’re my witnesses,” Ishmael shouted over the voices, still sure of himself. He turned to his cronies and caught his breath. They had galloped away with his horses.

  “Stone him, stone him, stone him!” the town folk’s cries grew more urgent.

  A grizzled man picked up the first rock and hurled it at Ishmael. It left an angry, red mark on his arm. An enraged woman flung a sharp-edged stone that ripped his clothing. Ishmael cried in pain. Pebbles flew like hailstones and battered his face. Drops of blood oozed from his skin.

  Ishmael ducked, his arms protecting his skull. “I tell you there are no spirits. They’re just unicorns! They’re like horses!” he shrieked in agony.

  The
townsfolk continued to pelt him with stones until, from the din, arose a tiny, but strong voice – the voice of a child.

  “Stop!” she shouted. The noise quieted down a bit. “Stop!” she commanded again. The mob’s noise faded as though the child’s voice had cast a spell. The tiny girl pushed through the crowd, rose onto the damaged statue of Ishmael and cried, “Stop it, all of you. Don’t kill him. He’s my daddy!”

  Her large soulful eyes challenged them, and her bottom lip trembled. Ishmael’s heart broke in two as he stared back at those precious brown eyes.

  “Ali!” he cried, his heart filled with love. “Ali, come here.”

  The child turned and glared at her father, defiant. Then she faced the crowd. “You want to stone my daddy because he killed the unicorns? Well, I can make him stop.”

  The townsfolk stood with bated breath, awaiting the bewitching child’s next words.

  Adiva pushed through the mob, and climbed beside her.

  “Ali is right. Ishmael has committed no more than the crimes of pride and greed. He doesn’t merit stoning for such a thing. Besides, you’ve all committed evil deeds too – every one of you. Remember the time of the fireball? Many of you stole, and some of you even killed. You’re no better than him. I say we find an appropriate punishment, one that is long-lasting.”

  “But how will we know he won’t murder another unicorn?” shouted the merchant, the fire in his eyes gone.

  “Because we’ll look after him and bring him food.” She turned and faced Ishmael, her eyes firm. “He’ll stay in his house and will never venture into town again.”

  “But the curse,” wailed an old woman. “He has unleashed a curse on this town.”

  The mob broke into angry mumbling again.

  Adiva hushed them. “So long as he remains far away, the curse won’t touch us. And as for the horn, we’ll lock it away until another plague hits our town. It’ll then be put to good use so that the Great Stallion’s death will have had meaning. It’ll keep our people alive.”

  The crowd waited in silence.

  “Are there any objections?” she demanded, her voice as powerful as a judge’s.

  Still the crowd remained quiet.

  She frowned at the mob and waved an arm. “Then go now – all of you. There will be no stoning today.”

  The streets emptied, revealing the rubble left behind.

  Ali and Adiva walked Ishmael along the dusty road to his home, and cleaned his wounds.

  “Adiva, please come back. I love you. And Ali – you’re such a strong little girl. I just didn’t think –” He begged.

  Waving him away, Adiva said, “You’ve had many chances and now you must face what you’ve done alone.”

  “No. Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be by myself,” he pleaded, his voice trembling.

  “You should have told us that before. It’s too late now.”

  She took Ali’s hand, and the two turned and walked down the path to the town, the little girl glancing back one last time at her father.

  That night, Ishmael sat alone in the darkness of his home, mulling over the day’s events.

  “No one understands me,” he muttered to himself. “If they had just taken the time to listen, they might have figured out what I was saying. They’re fools – all of them!”

  The sound of a horse scraping the ground caught his attention.

  “Ah, the horses. Must feed them.”

  Stepping outside, he remembered his cronies had escaped with their mounts. His horse too had fled during the altercation. Yet he heard the distinct snort of an equine sneeze.

  “What the...” he said as he turned searching for the source of the sounds.

  Shimmering before his eyes, the form of a unicorn materialized, pawing the ground. In the mist he could see other unicorns too, moving restlessly behind it.

  “I know you’re not spirits!” He guffawed, flinging a stone in their direction. It passed right through them. Picking up several other rocks, he cast them at the unicorns, but again, they sailed right through.

  Ishmael turned his attention again to the first one when it dawned on him. “You’re the mare, the one who saved my Ali,” he said, his voice high.

  The mare took two menacing steps forward and snorted. Ishmael backed up, his eyes wide with terror.

  “I’m sorry! I should have spared you, but all I could think of was the gold.”

  The unicorn pawed again and moved a few steps closer. The other unicorns’ neighs grew louder, their furious voices rumbling.

  “No! Leave me be!” he cried.

  Ishmael flew to the door and slammed it shut, sweat pouring from his body.

  I must be seeing things. If I wait long enough, they’ll go away. Dear gods, have I gone mad?

  He hid himself in the corner of his room, cowering under a blanket. The unicorns broke into their eerie but strange song. It grew louder and louder until Ishmael could stand it no longer.

  “Stop,” he shouted. “STOP! STOP!” He curled up, covering his ears. The unicorns sang their ghostly music until the early light of dawn faded them away. But it wasn’t over. They returned the next night, and the next, and the next after that. Ishmael realized he would be haunted until his death for his crimes.

  He grew weaker and more nervous every day. His dark hair and beard turned white, and he grew very thin, often mumbling to himself as he struggled through each hour.

  Finally, one morning, when Ali and Adiva came to deliver his food, they found him lying in his bed, his eyes staring in horror, his chest still. Ishmael had died a haunted man.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Darius’ Exodus

  Darius groaned in his sleep. His muscles twitched, and his tail moved as images of desperate unicorns flooded his mind – unicorns fleeing for their very lives. And Polaris ... Darius jerked awake, pushing himself up with his huge forelegs.

  “Polaris is dead,” he whispered the shocking words aloud, his eyes staring out into the early dawn. Tears rolled down his immense cheek and his sides heaved. “Ah, Polaris.”

  Memories swept through his mind of the day when the Great Stallion, Azaria, and Gaelan had found him while Maresa lay dying, and how they had taken him back to their valley and raised him. Polaris had been like a sire to him, and now he was gone.

  “You saved my life but I wasn’t there to save yours.”

  More giant tears slid down his cheeks and landed with a kerplop on the leaves below.

  After what seemed a long time, the trickle in his eyes lessened and he heaved a huge sigh.

  “The unicorns are all right. They’ve escaped ... with Azaria leading!” Wonder filled Darius when he spoke the last few words, and he smiled. “I knew you’d win the battle, Azaria. I just knew it.” He shifted. “But what about me? Sooner or later, the humans will migrate to this valley and find me.”

  The dinosaur gazed at the horizon where the sun rose, and he breathed in the fresh scent of the succulent ferns and trees surrounding him. Memories of a lush valley abounding with dinosaurs filled his mind, of days when his playmates were giant reptiles, of Saul the leader, even the Rexus ... until the fireball destroyed them all. Darius sighed again. He knew it was time to move on, and that this would be the last sunrise he’d watch from his childhood home.

  Waiting until nightfall, he began the long journey. He trudged along for several hours, enjoying the coolness of the air. Cicadas and frogs buzzed and croaked in rhythm, lending tranquility to the darkness. The fresh scent of flowers added a magic to his solitude. After a while, the sound of water bubbling lured him, and he changed his course.

  Finding the stream, he dipped his head in, taking in the sweet, cold, life-giving fluid. It cooled his legs and soothed his tongue. He drank for a long time, and then sat on his haunches to rest. He took in the beauty of the night, the magic of the forest regrown, the splendour of the mountains.

  Ah, the mountains.

  Following the slope with his eyes, he traced the incline until
he reached the line where the trees thinned. He drew in a sharp breath.

  It’s them!

  Tiny white dots pushed their way up the slope in the moonlight.

  Darius nearly called out, but stopped.

  I can’t risk the humans hearing me.

  He watched them climb higher and higher, his breath quickening. “Go, unicorns, go!” he said.

  A sob caught in his throat. How he wished he could follow them to their new home – anything to avoid the life of solitude that lay before him.

  Maybe I can.

  Darius took a few steps forward, his giant feet shuffling on the stones of the riverbank, undecided, and then stopped and lowered his head. He knew it wasn’t meant to be and that he had to continue on alone. It was his fate. Groaning, he blinked back tears and prepared to continue on his journey – until something caught his eye.

  One of the white specks had stopped and turned. Darius watched, his heart racing, as one by one, the unicorns faced him.

  They see me!

  The dinosaur stared in wonderment. Though they were but mere white specks in the moonlight, he knew without a doubt they were pointing their horns at him as they did for the Great Stallion and Mohala.

  They’re honouring me! Me! As though I were Polaris!

  His heart filled with elation.

  It wasn’t all for nothing!

  He stood up to his full height and bowed his head in return. Then he whispered, “Farewell, my friends.”

  The white specks lingered as though reluctant to leave. Then their leader turned and led them up the steep slope.

  The End

  Epilogue

  Dear readers,

  In this novel, I describe the near extinction of the mythical creature, the unicorn, at the hands of the humans. However, this story is not really fantasy. The elephant and rhinoceros endure this everyday. Poachers, in impoverished African countries kill thousands of elephants and rhinos each year for their tusks and horns bound for Asian markets.