The Unicorn Thief (14 page)

Then her voice steadied and she said, “But you're about to mess things up even worse if you leave. You're going to get killed—if you don't get captured again. You're so worried about the Murleys, but what do you think your mother will do?”

“She isn't going to know. Not until it's over.”

“If you don't want her to find out, then you have to stay here. No one here can tell her what you're getting ready to do. No one even knows how. And don't forget about the unicorn thief! He knew where you were. What if he still knows? You know Indy's safer here in the stable than he is out there in Silverforest.”

“I have to do what I have to do, Twig.”

“Just give me two more days. Two more days to convince the Murleys.”

She was so sure. So sure she could fix everything. That was probably his fault more than anyone's. So Ben said, “Fine. Two days,” and he wondered what Twig was going to do when she figured out she was wrong.

Chapter 27

The spring sun peeked through the treetops, drying the long nets of lichen that hung from the cedars and shook with the breeze. But back at the ranch, Twig had seen dark clouds moving toward the island. Soon the rain would come.

After a big Saturday breakfast, she'd proposed the plan to boat through the Death Swamp to the Murleys, and they'd said they would have to discuss it. So she and Ben had headed into the woods to check on Bounce and to bring the injured unicorn a blanket—hopefully before it started to rain.

They found Bounce in the same spot, though this time she'd heard their approach and was on her feet. She stepped tentatively out of her little nest in the ferns to say hello.

“She's walking!” Twig whispered, though she wanted to shout.

“She's a little wobbly, but she's definitely looking better.”

Ben dismounted and told Indy to stay. Twig stayed astride Wonder, unsure whether she could trust her not to spook Bounce just yet. A drop of rain fell on Twig's cheek, then another on her shoulder. Just a few sprinkles so far.

Ben held his hand out and, under Indy's watchful eye, Bounce lipped his fingers. They fed her and watered her, but when they went to leave, the unicorn limped after them. Her nicker verged on a whimper.
Take
me
with
you, please. Don't leave me here all by myself
.

The rain began to fall in earnest. Twig lingered, looking into the pools of Bounce's lonely eyes. “Do you think she could make it back to the ranch?”

“Back to the ranch?”

“She's helpless and alone. She could stay there, just until she gets better. What if one of her herd mates turns on her? What if the thief comes back?”

“I don't think a thief would take an unhealthy unicorn.”

“Maybe her being sick will make her an easier target. One he can't resist. He took Indy when he was the only unicorn. Maybe he hasn't taken any of the others because they're not alone.”

Ben sighed deeply. He turned his face up to the trees.

“I know,” Twig said. “This isn't how it's supposed to work. You're supposed to be out here—we're supposed to be out here—and the herd is supposed to stay wild. But we have to protect her.”

“All right. Let's see if she wants to come.”

***

From Bedtime Story's stall, Rain Cloud snorted his discontent. Story, Casey's good-natured pony, nickered an attempt to cheer him up. She seemed glad for the company. But she hadn't had to give up her stall to a strange unicorn, as Rain Cloud had. Ben watched Twig scratch his forehead and kiss his snout.

“It's only for a little while,” she said tenderly.

How did Twig do it—torn between Rain Cloud and Wonder, the ranch and the wild whispers of the island, here and her other home, with her father and stepmother? He hadn't given nearly enough thought to it before he met the Murleys.

Bounce whined nervously, and Mr. Murley stroked her neck as he eyed the wound on her side. Bounce wouldn't let Mrs. Murley or any of the other girls come close, but she warmed to Mr. Murley right away.

“What a lovely mare you are, Bounce.” Mr. Murley turned to Ben. “It's hard to think she has a vicious side. Strange, isn't it, what a creature can be capable of? Violence one day, gentleness the next…”

A memory rushed back at Ben like a splash of scalding water. His mother smiling, dusting him off and holding him close. Comforting him. Her cold smile as she touched Twig's broken hand. It wasn't just animals who could change.

Ben flipped his hood up and strode out of the stable, willing himself not to run.

“Ben,” Mr. Murley called, “grab my measuring tape from the shed, will you please?”

Ben didn't turn around. “Sure,” he said.

“The yellow thing with all the little lines and numbers,” Twig said.

“I know.”

Halfway to the shed, Ben almost changed course and bolted into the woods. But he couldn't leave without Indy. No, he'd wait until later. He knew why Mr. Murley wanted that measuring tape—to figure out how far to expand the stable. Soon enough the Murleys would have one less unicorn to worry about stabling. Ben wasn't sure where he was going to go, but it had to be somewhere they'd never find him.

A familiar sound interrupted Ben's thoughts. Hooves pounding. Not the soft thump of the ponies in the pasture, but the bump-crunch of the gravel road. A tall figure leap-galloped down the road, headed right for the gate, cloak billowing in the light, misty rain. A crack of light shone through the clouds, making him glimmer like something unreal. Something unworldly. No, just something from another world—Terracornus.

Chapter 28

It had been so long since Ben had seen Merrill ride—really ride. The unicorn stallion looked steady and proud, as did his rider. Merrill pulled Marble back at the driveway gate and waited. The unicorn was looking well—very well.

“Twig!” Ben called over his shoulder as he ran for the gate. “He's here! It's Merrill!”

Merrill dismounted and walked Marble through the gate. The unicorn sniffed and called out to the stable. A chorus of greetings from Wonder, Indy, and Bounce replied. A smattering of nervous pony whinnies joined the mix.

Merrill tipped his head toward the stable, listening with the trained ear of a lifelong herder. “You have another unicorn in there, Ben-boy?”

“We took Bounce in,” he said. “She's still healing.”

“Merrill!” Twig reached them, out of breath. She brushed the stray, wet blond hair out of her face. “Is everything all right? What are you doing here?”

“Don't worry, Twig-girl. Things are going to be just fine, I think. Thought it was about time I met these ranch Murleys. Besides”—his smile wobbled a little—nervously?—as he gave Marble a pat—“this isn't my only surprise.”

“He's all better!” Twig exclaimed.

But Ben said, “What do you mean?”

Before Merrill could answer, Mr. Murley emerged from the stable.

“Ben? Is this…”

Ben nodded. “Merrill, this is my uncle, David Murley.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Murley.”

The men shook hands. Mr. Murley grinned, his face animated with boyish curiosity.

Merrill's smile was of a different sort. He looked at Mr. Murley from one angle and then the other. “I'm sorry.” The old herder cleared his throat. “There's a resemblance, you know. To Darian.”

There was? Ben had never really thought about it, but then, he'd been accustomed to seeing Mr. Murley when Father was still alive. When he and his father were secretly keeping an eye on the ranch.

“I wish we could've met. He must have been a fine man to raise this boy. We all love Ben.”

Ben ducked his head and tried not to cry. Why? Why did Mr. Murley's kind words make him feel even more lost?

“Merrill, why don't you come in and meet my wife and the rest of the girls?”

By the time Ben helped Merrill settle Marble in one of the pasture shelters, the porch was full of girls, watching in fascination.

Ben shot Merrill an apologetic look, but he smiled warmly as he shook each girl's hand.

He pulled off his wet woolen cap as he greeted Mrs. Murley. “Thanks for taking in this boy, feeding him something decent for a change.”

“I eat decent!” Ben protested.

“Mrs. M's food is better than decent,” Janessa said. “You'll see. It's almost lunch. You can stay for lunch, can't you, Mr. Merrill?”

“Yes!” Twig said. “We're having chicken and dumpling soup. You have to stay.”

“Well, that's up to—”

“Of course,” Mrs. Murley said. “Come in and get dry, and we'll all have lunch.”

***

Lunch had been eaten, and Twig sat around the table with Ben and Merrill and the rest of the family, sipping hot chocolate—her suggestion. Merrill wiped an extra mustache of whipped cream from his face. Casey giggled, and Merrill gave her a wink.

The old herder slipped his hand into his coat and drew out a piece of paper. “I have a letter for you, David. And Laura.” He nodded at Mrs. Murley. “It's from the boy's mother.”

“What?!” Ben almost dropped his mug of hot chocolate.

Twig spat a mouthful back into her cup.

“It seems she has more to say about this duel of yours.”

Mr. Murley took the letter and unfolded it in front of Mrs. Murley.

Mrs. Murley brought her hand to her mouth. She looked up at Ben. “This is signed, ‘Her Majesty, the Queen of Westland.'”

“That's her,” Merrill said matter-of-factly.

Ben was silent. Mr. Murley turned his questioning look to Twig.

She nodded. “Ben's a prince.” She spoke quietly, but that didn't make it less noticeable. Janessa squealed with excitement.

“Not the crown prince,” Ben said.

“That's his brother, Griffin.”

“You have a brother?” Regina said.

“He's too old for you.” Twig gave her a poke.

“He's no good anyway!”

“Ben!” Twig said.

“Blast Griffin!” Ben stuffed his fists under the table. He looked just about ready to bash something.

Janessa and Casey gasped. The Murleys and Merrill joined Twig in giving Ben looks of disapproval.

“Sorry,” Ben muttered. “Not good enough for any of you, anyway.”

Regina grinned at that. She batted her thick, dark eyelashes. Twig kicked her under the table, hard this time.

“Ow!”

“Girls,” Mrs. Murley warned.
We
have
guests
, her look reminded them.

Mr. Murley cleared his throat. “Let's see what…Her Majesty…has to say. And then maybe Ben can explain how a Murley came to be a prince of Westland.” Mr. Murley's smile shook a little with the strangeness of it.

“I'm not surprised a Murley would be royalty,” Taylor said.

Mandy rolled her eyes.

Mrs. Murley picked up the letter. “She says, ‘I understand that you are relatives of my late husband, Darian—may his soul soar with the spirits of unicorns—and that you have taken in my wayward son, Ben.'”

Mrs. Murley hesitated at the word
wayward
. She glanced at Ben.

He was steaming mad, and Twig couldn't help being angry on his behalf. “She's the one who's wayward. Her men did this to my hand. And she put us in the dungeon!”

There were gasps all around the table. Oh no. Stupid Twig. She'd said too much.

“What is that, another one of Casey's stories?” Regina snorted. Mandy gave her own scornful laugh.

But Casey said, “The dungeon!” and looked like she was going to cry.

“Ben?” Mrs. Murley said.

“It's true,” said Merrill. “But go on, please. Read the letter. Then Ben and I will explain the rest.”

What would be left to explain? The queen would tell the Murleys to stop Ben from going to the Death Swamp. She'd ruin their plans. She might even insist they send him back. And she
was
Ben's mother. The Murleys might not send him back to her, but they wouldn't go against his mother's wishes to let him do something she said would endanger his life.

“Don't listen to her!” Twig banged her fist on the table. “She
wants
war with Eastland.”

“Twig,” Mr. Murley said, “I don't know where all that is coming from, but this is what Ben's mother says: ‘I know my son and how determined he can be. So like his father, with his noble ideas. So we will let him ride into the Death Swamp. He may not win his duel, but I assure you, no harm will come to him. I will see to that.'”

“What?”

“She's negotiated a slight change in the terms of the duel with the Prince of Eastland. Each dueler will have one companion. An adult, to make sure they're safe.”

“Who?”

“One of her guards, she says.”

Someone
like
Neal.
Twig exchanged looks with Ben.

Why? Why had she changed her mind? Why had she written to help convince the Murleys to let Ben go?

Chapter 29

The sun shone on Twig's jacket. It was a warm spring day, and she longed to take it off, but the swamp lay just ahead, green and shadowy. Wet and teeming with bugs—and much, much worse. Her mini-backpack was safe under her bright red shell. On her back was her bow and quiver. The queen had promised her safe passage in and out of Terracornus for the event, but still, after Ben went into the Death Swamp, she'd be all alone.

Merrill was supposed to be here. He'd been granted the same pass, yet he hadn't met them by the passage tree as they'd planned. They'd sent Emmie with a message, but she'd come back to them with it still in the little tube attached to her leg, unopened.

The queen was there with her entourage. A handful of Eastlanders stood by as well, to ensure fair play.

The queen gave Twig and Ben a tight smile. “Neal will accompany you through the swamp, Ben.”

Ben nodded stoically, but Twig couldn't help a grimace of distaste. She didn't trust Neal or the queen. What if they were up to something? What if it had something to do with Merrill not being here?

“Neal can help me carry this.” Ben pointed to the pirogue they'd set down behind them. “It's not heavy; Twig and I can carry it. But it does take two.”

“A boat?” the Eastlanders murmured. “What are they doing with a boat?”

The Queen of Westland stepped forward. She looked from the pirogue at Ben and Twig's feet to Ben's face. For an instant she looked stricken, near panic.

“What are you doing with that boat, my son?” The calm was as forced as the smile.

“We've decided not to take the boardwalk, Mother. We'll go through the swamp in a pirogue—this boat—instead.”

The most senior member of the Eastland party cleared his throat. “Just a minute there.” He took out a piece of paper and followed the lines of script with a crooked finger. Finally he looked up and shook his head. “There is no rule against it.”

“Let me see that,” one of the women from his group said. “Whatever they can carry. It says so right here. The contestant, one companion, one unicorn each, and whatever they can carry.”

“But they have to ride in, don't they?” A middle-aged Eastlander tugged at his beard in agitation.

The woman's nut-brown hair bobbed as she shook her head. “It's not in the rules.”

“But it's tradition! What will Prince Reynald say? We have a responsibility.”

Her face twisted in a smirk. “Prince Reynald would say let them have their boat. Let them try to traverse the Death Swamp by water.”

“The swamp will do his work for him,” the bearded man agreed grimly.

“It will be disappointing, I'm sure, not to have a fight. But one way or another, Reynald wins this duel.”

“You mean to say you are going to let these two paddle into the Death Swamp in this—this—canoe?” the queen said.

“It's a pirogue,” Twig said.

“Ben,” the queen said, “you must take the boardwalk. I insist on it.”

Ben shook his head. “This is my duel, Mother.”

“I'm afraid Neal will be unable to accompany you, then. If you go this way, then you go alone.”

“No, he doesn't!” Twig's pulse pounded as she spoke up. She couldn't let Ben take that boardwalk and fight Reynald to the death. Though the duelers' companions weren't allowed to fight for them, they could assist them, help protect them from the dangers of the swamp. “He goes with me.”

“With you?” the queen said.

Twig flexed her left hand. It was healed now. They'd practiced and planned and packed. But was she really ready to face the Death Swamp?

“Yes, I'll be his companion. I'll help him through the Death Swamp.”

“Twig…” Ben looked at her, full of surprise and worry. If the Death Swamp didn't kill her, the Murleys would once they found out.

“I know that map by heart.”

“I cannot let you—”

“You don't have a choice. We're partners, remember? We're the herders of Lonehorn Island.” At least for a few more days, when Daddy would come home and she'd have to leave Wonder, the ranch, everything.

He nodded slowly, understanding. “Partners.”

The queen gave them a cold, hard look. Then she turned her back on them and walked away.

“Is she going to stop us?” Twig whispered to Ben.

“She cannot. Not now. She's already agreed to the duel. She gave her word.”

“She's not happy.”

“She'll never be happy with me.”

From the other side of the swamp, a long horn blast sounded.

“Eastland is ready. Come on, Twig. We're going to beat Reynald there and take his flag before he makes it halfway through the Death Swamp.”

Twig couldn't help smiling. Finally, Ben believed in the plan she and the girls had come up with. Even if it was only because his mother opposed it. Ben was determined to win and keep the Death Swamp from winning any of their lives while they were at it.

“Ben!” Griffin grabbed his arm and hissed. “You cannot do this. It will never work. Just take the boardwalk, please.”

“I have a better chance this way.”

“You have no chance! Do you understand? No chance at all!”

From the other side of the swamp, the horn sounded again. Ben said, “Ready.”

It was Griffin's job to blow the ram's horn. Flames of anger shot from his eyes like the blue fire in the stories of the Death Swamp, but he raised it to his mouth and blew.

Twig shot Griffin a reproachful look, slipped Wonder's lead around her wrist, and grabbed her end of the pirogue.

Twig and Ben lifted the boat together and headed for the entrance to the Death Swamp. Emmie circled over the crowd, then landed on top of the pirogue. Indy and Wonder neighed their distaste and confusion as Twig and Ben tethered them to a tree at the edge of the swamp. Twig's arms shook as she balanced the edge of the pirogue on her shoulder. She felt the load lighten a little as Ben put some more muscle—more than his share—into lifting the other side of the boat.

Emmie launched into the air, high above the treetops. Twig hoped she wouldn't go far. She liked to think they'd keep some connection with the world outside the swamp, even if it was just one small emerald pigeon.

Twig took the first step off the sticky but still mostly solid ground and onto the boardwalk. The boards were gray, the gray of death. Bright green foam seeped up between them—not the brightness of life—the brightness of toxic stuff that could end it.

They carried the pirogue a few yards in, then carefully stepped to one side and lowered it to the boardwalk. Twig's hands were still shaking. She felt something wet. A blob of green foam. She shook her hand, flinging it into the swamp.

“It's just algae,” Ben reminded her. “Touching the water won't hurt you.”

Twig nodded, glad she'd held back that yelp. If things were anything like Earth here, then she only had to worry about the water getting into any cuts and scrapes and causing infection.

They turned the pirogue over and slowly lowered it into the water. Ben held it still against the boardwalk while Twig fetched Wonder.

“You get in first, Twig.”

She stepped in, Wonder's lead in hand. She smiled steadily and looked into Wonder's eyes. “Wonder-girl, we're going for a little ride. Look what I have for you.” Twig showed Wonder the lump of sugar, a rare treat. “Come on.”

Wonder stepped into the boat, then lost her nerve and tried to bounce back out. The boat lurched with her sudden movement, and Wonder splashed into the water.

The boat drifted a few inches, then stopped, stuck in the mud. Thank God the water was only a few inches deep. But Wonder snorted and shook her head. Twig groped in the ooze for her lead. If Wonder bolted into the swamp—

Ben stretched across the boardwalk on his belly, trying to grab the boat. “Use the paddle, Twig. I cannot reach it.”

Twig held the lead tight with one hand and took the paddle in the other. She pushed off the mud with it, and Ben grasped the side of the pirogue and drew it back. Wonder wanted to follow. She scrambled back into the boat. Twig talked her into sitting down so she could pet her and still reach the ground with the paddle.

It wasn't so hard to get Indy into the pirogue once Wonder was there, though he made it clear how unhappy he was about it. He glared at Ben, then at Wonder for getting in first. The unicorns had a little discussion. Both of them were on their feet and looking ready to jump. They had to do something or they were never going to get on their way. Already the Boy King had a head start.

“Push!” Twig cried. “Quick!”

They both pushed the pirogue off and into deeper water before their unicorns could make their escape. The pirogue cut through the water, smooth and quiet and quick. Twig allowed herself a smile. They were on their way. They were going to do this.

Overhead, a bright green blur wove in and out of view. As though to offer them extra reassurance, Emmie cooed. Her call bounced off the swamp life, sounding like more than just one bird. Not alone.

Mrs. Murley often told Twig she was never alone. But she and Ben would be, until they made it to the other side of the swamp. Even then, would there be a friendly face to welcome them? Would Merrill make it? The group from Westland would be hurrying around the swamp right now to meet them. Only a small delegation from each side would remain by its entrance to be witnesses.

Twig took her sketchbook from her mini-backpack and wrote a quick note. “Ben, see if you can call Emmie back. I want to try to send a message one more time.”

The cooed answer to Ben's whistle was barely audible. But in a moment, the letter pigeon arrived. Twig rolled her note up tight. It was addressed to everyone. Merrill, the Murleys, Casey, her parents, explaining what she'd done, apologizing. Telling them she loved them. Just in case.

The swamp was almost peaceful, and the smell wasn't so bad now that Twig had gotten used to it. Lulled by the gliding of the boat, Wonder and Indy rested. Maybe all the stories were exaggerations, tales grown taller over time.

“Pull to the left,” Ben said. Even he sounded at ease as they navigated around a cluster of tree roots that jutted into their path, arching high above the water. Twig followed the roots with her eyes, up to the trunk, into the dangling branches. They were strangely dark, the lichen blackish. Mist hovered over the water—not the mist of Lonehorn Island, but a brownish gloom.

Ben took in a sharp breath. “This is it, Twig,” he whispered. “The heart of the Death Swamp.”