Wonder Light (14 page)

Wonder pivoted and darted to the side. To Twig's horror, Dagger dipped his head to attack. She couldn't see the menacing horn; she could only imagine it piercing Wonder's side, slashing at her own legs. Dagger was going to charge.

Dagger let out an outraged utterance of pain, and Twig glanced back. Indy was there, raising his horn, stained dark and wet. Ben shouted commandingly at Indy and gave him his heels, urging him out of Dagger's reach, though it was clear that his unicorn's desire was to stay and fight.

Dagger lurched after Indy. The gash on his flank forced him to take a slower, more awkward stride, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Wonder sidestepped, wavering between her fear—her urge to flee and survive—and her desire to defend her father. Then she sprinted to Indy's side.

Dagger paused and howled into the night. Several howls answered him, so close. In the distance, more responded. The herd was coming.

Twig struggled to nock an arrow and take aim. Dagger turned, his lip curled back. It looked like he was smiling in anticipation as he leaped, nimbly as ever, toward the sound of his approaching herd.

Twig's arrow whooshed toward Dagger, then arched down, just behind Dagger's flank. It cut through the ferns and stuck in the ground.

“Hurry! To the passage!” Ben cried.

As they wove through the trees and the brush, some of the shadows in the thickening mist began to move with them. Wonder's eyes widened, but she seemed too afraid to even make the usual sounds of fear. Wonder's and Indy's ears flattened back completely. They galloped side by side, communicating silently to each other.

The shadows took form. They called out high cries of hunger, and they broke through the brush, headed straight for Wonder and Indy.

In a blink, Dagger was at Wonder's flanks, and this time, Indy wasn't in position to rescue her. Wonder, the born jumper, leaped like never before. Twig's fear-tightened stomach flopped as she hung on. When Wonder landed, her hooves met firmer ground. They'd reached the clearing in the mist around the hemlock circle. Ben pulled Indy back to let Twig go ahead.

But Wonder reared at the seemingly impassable branches, no matter how Twig urged her to go—until Ben rode Indy right through. Then Wonder followed, crying out her protest.

Ben dismounted. “I have to open the door. Get down. You'll have to lead her through the passage.”

Ben took out the key. Twig dismounted and snatched up Wonder's lead.

On the other side of the hemlocks, the wild unicorns stopped and screamed at the bristling branches.

“They don't want to come through. They don't want to go to Terracornus,” Ben said breathlessly.

They didn't want to push their way through the boughs, to feel the needles scratching at their noses and their eyes, or, to hear Ben tell it, enter some distant nightmare beyond the passage, but their desire to kill Indy and Wonder was strong.

“Hurry, Ben! Hurry anyway!”

The key clicked in the lock, and Ben threw the door open and gave Indy a slap on the hindquarters that sent him reluctantly but obediently through. Then Ben joined Twig in trying to talk Wonder into following. Wonder tossed her head in confusion and protest.

“She's never been there,” Twig said. “Why won't she go?”

“She was made for this world, not that one, and she knows it.” Ben gave Wonder a harsh slap on the rump, and she bolted forward so fast that Twig barely had time to dive out of the way.

Twig ran after Wonder and snatched her reins just as she emerged in the mist on the other side. Ben slammed and locked the door behind them. Twig leaned back against the tree trunk, digging her fingers into the rough bark. Her heart was beating so fast, her breath quick and gaspy.

Ben emerged from the tunnel inside the cedar and slipped the key back under his shirt. Twig stumbled back to examine the tree. It was hard to see in the fog, but it looked like it was the exact same tree on Lonehorn Island, only on this side, the Terracornus side, the arched opening in the tree had no door.

Twig was standing on a narrow dirt road that led to that opening. A pink and orange glow filtered through the mist surrounding the tree. “What is that light?”

Ben glanced around him, confused, then said, “Oh. It's the sunset.”

“Sunset?” Twig gasped.

“It's a different world, a different time. Breathe deep, Twig. Make yourself breathe deep.”

Twig nodded. She tried. The air was so heavy with moisture. Her legs were rubber. No, they were wet paper. They dissolved under her. She'd never ridden so hard in her life. But then she'd just ridden
for
her life. And she'd ridden into another world.

Ben fished a flask of water out of his pouch. He squatted in front of her. She tried to take the flask and drink when he offered it, but her hand shook and sloshed it.

“Not just yet, I think.” Ben screwed the cap back on but left it in her hands. “You hold on to it and give yourself a minute.”

“I'm sorry, girl,” Ben told Wonder. “We'll get you back there soon.

“They all know it somewhere inside,” he said to Twig, “and every unicorn born in Terracornus spends his life longing to find this passage.”

Twig listened to Ben talk soothingly to both of the unicorns. He told them about the nice fresh water he was going to lead them to once they'd caught their breath. Twig shut her eyes and breathed deeply the strange, musty air, and let him calm her too.

Twig opened her eyes again, and she drank a gulp of cold, metallic water. She stood up on weak but steadier legs and passed the flask to Ben.

He took a long drink, then stopped himself and screwed the lid back on. “We've got to get going now. There's a stream not far from here, where we can rest and water the unicorns.”

The road took a sharp turn not far ahead, and she couldn't make out where it went, couldn't see anything but forest. Along the roadside, tall, upright trees with smooth, silvery bark were interspersed with broader, smaller trees with birchlike white trunks and branches swelling with pale green leaf buds.

Twig walked over to a wooden post a few yards ahead, where the road branched off. Two signs were nailed to it. Beneath the engraved words “Dead-End Tree,” an arrow on one of the signs pointed to the passage they'd just come through. The other sign pointed to the well-worn branch of road ahead and suggested, in cheerful green paint, the way to “Clover Gully.”

The stretch of road between the passage tree and the signs was rocky and weedy, but the roads beyond the signs were well maintained, well traveled. By who? The queen's army? Unicorn killers?

Ben called to Emmie. A coo answered him from the branches of the passage tree, and she fluttered down. He scattered some seed on the ground for her, then took a scrap of paper and a stick that resembled thick pencil lead from his pouch and scrawled something. He rolled the paper tight and began to slip it into the tube on Emmie's leg. He stopped, frowned, and pulled something out of the tube.

“Is it a note from Merrill?” Twig said.

Ben's eyes flicked from the note to Twig. He turned his back and quickly read it, then stuffed it in his pouch.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

But Twig knew it wasn't nothing.

“Go see Merrill now,” he told Emmie. “Let him know we're on our way.”

On their way to bring him two unicorns to hide from whatever was out there, in the inscrutable forest beyond the mist, full of secrets Ben was keeping from her. Twig shivered in her shell. All she wanted was to be in that warm yellow house. Safe in her bed. But no one was safe in bed at Island Ranch. Not with the herd awake and hungry.

“Wait!” Twig grabbed Ben's arm, just as Emmie took flight. “Call her back! Tell Merrill to come help us.”

“But—”

Twig fumbled for Wonder's mist-wet reins. “I'm going back.”

Ben's eyes widened. “You cannot,” he protested. But he called Emmie.

“Dagger is out for blood. You said so yourself. What do you think he'll do when Indy and Wonder don't come back? Just give up?”

Ben looked at the ground, and Twig knew she was right.

“He'll go back to the ranch, looking for Wonder. Him and his herd. Her scent is there, isn't it? He already killed one horse. The girls won't just stay inside and let him do it again. They won't.”

Emmie landed on Ben's shoulder. He lifted his head. He shifted his cloak. “They'll fight.”

Twig nodded, a lump forming in her throat. Those girls were fighters, every one of them, and the Murleys too.

“What if Mr. Murley can't shoot them all? What if he
does
shoot them all? The herd will be gone.”

Ben removed the message from Emmie's leg and dug the pencil out of his pouch. The crumpled note he'd just read wafted to the ground, but Ben didn't notice. As he scrawled on the paper again, revising his message to Merrill, Twig carefully stepped on the dropped note. Ben turned to send Emmie off, and Twig bent down, as though to adjust her boot. She picked up the note and slipped it into the pocket of her shell.

Ben watched Emmie disappear into the sunset beyond the mist.

“We can't wait for him.” Twig tried to sound resolved, but her voice shook.

Ben met her eyes, and she gave him her stubbornest glare.

“Here.” Ben ducked his head through the leather cord around his neck and tossed the key to Twig.

It caught her by surprise, and she had to fumble in the dirt for it.

“You unlock the door, and I'll ride through first. I'll distract them while you and Wonder run for the ranch.”

“Wait for me under the tree, Ben, please. At least until I've mounted again.”

He shook his head. “I want to take them by surprise.”

The walk back to the Dead-End Tree was over too quickly—or not quickly enough. As she fitted the key into the lock, Twig pressed her ear to the door. She could hear them—wild unicorns, calling, pawing, stamping, even sniffing.

“They're here. They're so close.” What if, in their moments of waiting and pacing, they had dared to brave the branches? What if they were right outside the door now, under the tree? Twig listened again, but the door was thick, and it was impossible to tell.

“Hurry!” Ben said.

“Can they smell us on the other side? If they can, they won't be surprised.”

“Twig!” he said insistently.

She turned the key and threw the door open, and Wonder raised a hoof, poised to bolt out.

“No!” Twig cried, and Ben grabbed Wonder's bridle and ordered her back, to the side.

As soon as Twig took Wonder's reins, Ben led Indy through the tunnellike hollow in the tree trunk and out the door, then mounted. Indy squealed his indignation as he and Ben broke through the sweeping branches of the hemlocks, but they barely slowed.

Twig hurried to mount Wonder, as screams pierced the fog and Ben and Indy clashed with whatever was waiting for them on the other side. But Wonder was in a near frenzy of pawing and screaming. Fearing for Ben, Twig mounted anyway. As soon as she did, as soon as she let Wonder leap through the mist, the unicorn's protest stopped. She was focused, determined as she broke through the branches and into the fray.

One unicorn lay on the ground, an arrow protruding from its flank. It jerked its head to avoid the crushing blows of Indy's hooves. A long gash on its foreleg gushed as Indy kicked, punishing it for every attempt to rise. Ben leaned back hard and steered Indy away.

Another unicorn came leaping at them, and Twig let go the reins, clinging to Wonder with her thighs as she fired an arrow. This one struck its target, piercing the creature's side. The unicorn screamed and stumbled away, into the brush. Twig froze, feeling sick.

“Go, Twig! Hurry!”

“No! You'll never get away on your own. Besides,” Twig said with a new certainty, “Wonder wants to fight.” It was true. She could feel it.

Ben gave her a curt nod. “We stay together then, and head for the ranch.”

Another unicorn darted into the circle of mist. Twig urged Wonder toward it, but when the wild unicorn saw Wonder, it retreated, giving a long, high, lingering neigh—a call into the distance. Far away, another unicorn answered.

“I know that call,” Ben said. “It's Dagger! He's coming!”

Wonder neighed a desperate neigh—not desperately afraid, but desperately eager. Twig felt her unicorn's urge to fight rippling through every muscle beneath her. She sat up straighter, shouldered her bow, and gripped the reins with white knuckles.

“Then let's go to him!” Twig said. Enough running, enough waiting for the perfect moment. Enough of waking up, trembling in the dead of night. It was time to deal with Dagger.

Ignoring Ben's protest, she let Wonder run, this time not in flight, but in pursuit. It was her turn to hunt. Ben followed close behind, and Indy neighed his encouragement to his daughter. Wonder leaped, higher, longer than she ever had, higher even, than Indy. Twig's insides felt strange and light; she forgot the feel of the reins clutched tight in her hands; she forgot the ache of her legs straining to hold on, forgot the tenseness of fear. All she knew was that she was flying. Wonder's hooves finally met the earth some thirty feet from where they'd left it, and she sprang up into the air again in the same instant.

Twig caught a blur of movement—Dagger, his horn dark as midnight, poised to strike, leaping through the air right across her path. Wonder, in midleap, cried out. Behind Twig, Ben and Indy cried out too. Wonder swerved in the air, but so did Dagger. A throb of impact. Twig jolted. And then they were falling.

Dagger's horn had struck. Wonder crashed into the brush, and Twig hurtled over Wonder's head and managed to tuck her own head just in time. Twig's shoulder hit the ground hard, and her knee struck the root of a tree. Wonder sprang back to her feet. There was a long, shallow gash across her side, but no puncture. Wonder had collided with Dagger, but she'd managed to maneuver a would-be fatal blow into a glance.

“Twig!”

As soon as she turned toward the shout, Twig saw the shadow arching over her. She flattened herself into the ferns as Dagger leaped over her. He landed just feet away. Wonder whirled on him and their horns clashed with a bone-jarring sound. Indy kicked at Dagger's flank with his rear legs and Ben threw his knife. It lodged in Dagger's side, and Dagger screamed and turned toward Ben and Indy. When he did, Wonder charged.

Wonder's horn drove into Dagger's shoulder, and Dagger swished his head to the side violently, slashing at Wonder. Twig desperately called her back. Whether simply to withdraw her horn and prepare for another strike or out of obedience, Wonder pulled back.

Twig leaped onto Wonder's back and circled her away from Dagger. Indy was getting some distance too. Twig locked eyes with Ben.

“Go ahead,” he said. His bow was in his hand, and he was trying to hold Indy steady while readying an arrow.

Twig understood. Dagger was on his feet again, wavering but frothing with ferocity. She gave Wonder a running start and she charged at Dagger.

Twig leaned hard into Wonder's neck, putting everything she had into staying attached to her unicorn's back. She felt the plunge but could see nothing with her face buried in the silver silk of Wonder's mane. She jerked to a stop. Dagger shrieked, and then Wonder withdrew again. With a whoosh, Ben's arrow flew, and it lodged in Dagger's side not far from the wound Wonder had just inflicted.

Twig circled away from the writhing wild unicorn. Ben dismounted and drew his sword and ordered Indy to stay back. Slowly, he advanced on Dagger. Twig dismounted too. Wonder had done her job well, done her share; her horn was stained with blood. And Twig wanted no more of that.

As she calmed Wonder, Twig peered into the midnight-black eyes of Dagger, and her heart skipped a beat. He let out a soft, pleading wail, and those eyes seemed to plead with her too.

“Ben,” she said, “wait.”

Ben flicked a sideways glance at her without moving his head or his sword. He turned his eyes, which had been filled with readiness and near rage, back to Dagger with a new kind of scrutiny—far from trusting, but ready to consider.

Ben took a deep breath, and he tipped the blade aside. “Well,” he said quietly to Dagger, “are we done?”

The unicorn's eyes stayed wild and wide. Was it more with fear now, than with hunger for the kill? Ben took a step backward. Indy gave a snort of new fury. Ben turned to him and put a calming hand on his muzzle. When he did so, Dagger shot to his feet with an explosion of power. His horn was tipped and ready to drive right through Ben's back.

Twig shrieked, and as she did, she drew her sword and thrust up. She gripped the hilt with both hands. It struck resistance and she thrust harder. The unicorn screamed a terrifying call of pain and fear and threat. Twig yelped, letting go of her sword and falling out of reach of the flailing hooves. Ben jumped out of the way.

Indy charged at Dagger, but the stallion knew it was too late; Twig's sword had already done the job. Indy tilted his horn at Dagger, but he didn't stab.

Wonder was at Twig's side, pawing the ground near her, entreating her.

“I'm okay, girl.” Twig rose on shaky legs. She gave Wonder a kiss. “I'm okay.”

She hadn't meant to kill Dagger, hadn't had room for anything in her head or her heart other than
Don't kill Ben. Don't.

Ben put a boot on Dagger's chest to brace himself as he withdrew Twig's sword. He wiped it on the branches and then handed it to her. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

Twig took the sword. She let it hang limp at her side as she stared at Dagger. His body shuddered much as Wind Catcher's had. Then it stilled. “I don't know if I'm glad or not.”

Ben put an arm around her shoulder. “
I'm
glad. I'm sorry you had to do it, but I'm glad he's gone.”

“You gave him another chance.”

“I thought I saw a little bit of Midnight Dream. But what he did, in the end…he's the one who let the Dagger in him win.”

Howls faded into the distance. The rest of the herd was in retreat. Had Dagger insisted on coming after his enemies alone this time, or faced with opposing unicorns and their determined riders, had the herd chosen not to follow him?

“What about the rest of them?”

“There's still a lot of work to do. This herd will be looking for a new leader. If the wrong one takes the role, this will be all for nothing.”

The sound of movement through the brush sent Twig and Ben scrambling for their weapons. But Merrill's voice called out, “Ben?”

“Here, Merrill!”

Merrill appeared, bow in hand. “Two dead back at the passage,” he announced. “One more badly wounded, but she managed to retreat with the others. Is that him? Dagger?”

“It's him,” Ben replied.

Merrill took a step closer to inspect the creature who had turned so many midnights into nightmares for all of Lonehorn Island. “Well done,” he said. “Well done.”