Moon Rising

by Tui T. Sutherland

  Qibli stepped forward and twined his tail around Umber’s for a moment. Moon felt Umber’s longing and heartbreak and loyalty like a physical pain in her chest. He leaned forward to give Qibli a quick hug, and then Moon, and then he scrambled up after his sister.

  A heartbeat later, they were gone, two small shapes winging away into the dark clouds.

  Moon turned to Qibli, realization dawning.

  “Icicle is the one conspiring with Queen Scarlet,” she said.

  Killing is easy enough. Moon had heard those exact words in the first dreamvisitor conversation.

  She noticed that the violent blizzard of Icicle’s mind had veered off; she wasn’t thinking about just Sora anymore. She was thinking about the caves where Sunny, Clay, Tsunami, and Starflight lived.

  “We have to hurry,” Moon said. “She may not get to kill Sora — but that’s not the only dragon she promised to kill today.”

  Moon and Qibli ran through the winding tunnels of Jade Mountain. Dragons jumped out of the way and stared at them as they shot past; Moon caught flashes of What’s happening? and Was there another fire? and Should I be running, too? and Oi, SandWing, watch it with that tail. She thought she saw Winter looking out of one of the caves they passed but didn’t slow down to check.

  Moon, stop. You can’t do this. I have to stop you, Darkstalker said. This is not wise. It’s not safe. I can’t let you confront Icicle. There are so many ways in which it goes horribly wrong —

  Like she kills me? Moon asked. Are there possibilities where she doesn’t kill me?

  Ye-es, but they’re faint — Moon, I can’t lose you —

  I can’t sit by and do nothing, she answered back. While Icicle kills somebody? Somebody who might change the future of this world? Look into those futures, Darkstalker. Without Sunny or Starflight, Clay or Tsunami, isn’t the world a darker place? If this school fails, how soon are the tribes back at war?

  He was silent for a long moment. I see your point. But the world without you in it is also much diminished, Moon.

  Really? She couldn’t imagine that was true.

  Let Qibli go stop her on his own, Darkstalker suggested.

  Can he do that and survive? she asked. Honestly?

  Hmmm, he said. Maybe a one in three hundred chance.

  Not good enough, she said. I need to be there.

  For him to survive? Darkstalker sighed. Yes. You do.

  She tried not to be terrified by this reminder that she was running toward her own death; she tried to just focus on the distant echo of Icicle. Where was the IceWing going? The rage was clear enough, but her surroundings were not. Moon concentrated and heard Not here … not here …

  “They’re not in their sleeping quarters,” she said between gasping breaths. “She has to look for them somewhere else.”

  “She could have killed Clay in the prey center,” Qibli pointed out. “So why didn’t she?”

  “I think — I think she didn’t want to do it in front of Winter,” Moon said, stopping and pressing on her temples. “And Clay is the biggest. Maybe she wants to kill off the easiest ones first. Sunny?”

  “Sunny’s not that easy to kill,” said Qibli.

  “Starflight,” they both said at the same time, and whirled to race to the library.

  Icicle got there first.

  Moon and Qibli burst in to find her silently creeping up on Starflight. Her lethally sharp claws were outstretched and her jaw was moving, calling up the deadly IceWing frostbreath. When she saw them, her eyes widened and flicked from them to Starflight and back. The blind NightWing was crouched in a corner, sorting scrolls by touching the stamps on the edges, but he raised his head in Moon’s direction.

  “Starflight, look out!” Qibli shouted.

  Icicle leapt forward and landed on Starflight’s back. He yelled with pain, and she wrenched him around so his body was between her and the others. Her talons wrapped around his throat and her wings pinned his to his sides.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” she hissed.

  There’s a window right behind her, Qibli thought. If she realizes that, she could kill him and jump out before we could stop her. But right now she thinks she needs him as leverage so we’ll let her go. We’ll have to distract her so I can attack. Too dangerous this way; I might hit Starflight with my tail instead of her. Search for weaknesses. Get closer if I can.

  “Please don’t kill him,” Moon said, holding out her claws. “Just let him live and we won’t stop you — you can leave, go wherever you want.”

  “I promise,” Starflight said, his voice hoarse with fear. “You won’t have done anything wrong, Icicle. You can still go home now, but if you kill me, Queen Glacier might not take you back.”

  Is he right? Icicle wondered. She might appreciate a reason to get rid of me so I’m not a threat to her or her daughters. But if I succeed and Scarlet gives me what I’ve been promised, I’ll return home a hero, no matter who I kill along the way.

  “You can’t trust Queen Scarlet,” Moon said. Icicle jerked her head around to stare at Moon. “Listen, please. Set him free, and I promise we won’t tell anyone you were conspiring with her.”

  Icicle’s wings flared. “How did you know that?” she snarled.

  “Queen Scarlet?” said a voice behind them. “Icicle, what are you doing?”

  It had been Winter they’d run past, and of course he had followed them. The dazzling confusion of his mind was brighter than ever. He couldn’t even process what he was seeing — his sister, about to kill Starflight.

  “Stay out of this,” Icicle warned him. “Unless you’d like to be helpful, in which case, go find Sunny and kill her.”

  “What are you talking about?” Winter shouted. “Why would we do that?”

  He’s a weak fool, Icicle thought, cold and clear. “Mother always said you weren’t as strong or smart as Hailstorm,” she spat.

  Winter flinched as if he’d been struck.

  “I see you edging closer, SandWing,” Icicle said, glaring at Qibli. He stopped moving. “Listen. I’ll just take this librarian with me to make sure no one follows. I’ll release him once I’m a safe distance away. That’s the best deal you’re going to get.”

  “She’s lying,” Moon said. “She’ll kill him as soon as she gets a chance.”

  And Moon would know, Qibli thought.

  Icicle shot a poisonous look at Moon. Very well, Plan B, the IceWing thought. Multiple kills, escape in the chaos. That SandWing is just within range of my frostbreath, and then I slit Starflight’s throat, break the little NightWing’s neck, and go after Sunny and the others. Winter can stay and whimper over their bones if he wants to.

  She seemed to be focused on Moon, but her mind was waiting for Qibli to try sneaking forward again.

  One step closer, SandWing. One … step … now —

  “Qibli!” Moon yelled, leaping at him. She shoved him out of the way as a blast of freezing air shot out of Icicle’s mouth.

  Get down! Darkstalker roared in her brain.

  Moon felt as if he’d slammed great talons into her back and thrown her to the ground. The frostbreath went over her head and caught just the edge of Moon’s wing; she screamed at the sudden pain.

  Everything happened at once, along with a deafening thunderclap of fury and adrenaline that surged into Moon from all the dragons in the room. Winter roared and charged toward them. Starflight jabbed Icicle hard in the chest and she let go of his neck with a grunt, but as he staggered away she grabbed him again and smashed him into the cave wall. He crumpled to the ground with his eyes closed.

  Moon let out a cry and ran forward to crouch beside him. She reached out and felt the flicker of his brain dropping into unconsciousness. He was still alive.

  In the same moment, Qibli threw himself at Icicle and knocked her off her feet. The IceWing and the SandWing struggled, rolling across the floor, kicking scrolls in all directions. Qibli stabbed his tail at her but missed. She flung him away so he crashed hard on top of
the main desk and slid over behind it.

  Seconds later, Moon was seized by cruel, cold talons and pinned to the ground. Icicle’s claws wrapped around her neck.

  “Icicle, don’t!” Winter yelled. He grabbed his sister and tried to drag her off Moon, but she was bigger than he was and too heavy to move.

  “You never won when we fought in the hatchery,” she snarled at him. “Don’t bother trying now. And for what? A couple of NightWings? Don’t you remember that we hate them? Don’t you remember what they did to our tribe? To Hailstorm?”

  Winter froze, still clutching her shoulders.

  His mind slipped into the well-worn tracks Moon had heard on the first day she met him. The NightWings killed him. And all of them. All of Scarlet’s IceWing prisoners.

  “The NightWings came right out of the sky and killed every last IceWing in Scarlet’s mountain prison,” Icicle said. “While the IceWings were still bound and chained. Remember? And do you remember why? To make Queen Scarlet free that one.” She let go of Moon’s neck with one talon to point at Starflight. “He’s the reason they’re all dead.”

  Winter did remember. Moon could see it all flooding through his head. This was the heart of his guilt. He’d gotten his brother captured by SkyWing soldiers when they went looking for scavenger dens in the mountains. So his brother had been in Queen Scarlet’s prison when the NightWings arrived to save Starflight, and they’d killed all the IceWings in a show of strength. Every last one.

  That was why Winter hated NightWings.

  “But Starflight’s not to blame,” Moon choked out wretchedly. “He’s the kind of dragon who will stop the killing, Winter, not cause any more. He’s good inside — just like you are.”

  His eyes, blue as arctic oceans, stared into hers.

  “Good, pfft. Would you rather be good or strong?” Icicle spat at him.

  In response, Winter smashed his sister across the head with his tail.

  Icicle fell back, roaring, and Moon gasped for air.

  “Starflight and Moon didn’t kill Hailstorm!” Winter shouted. “Queen Scarlet did! She’s the one who took him prisoner! He would have died in her arena sooner or later. How can you work with her? How can you work for her? How can you do anything she says?”

  He advanced and Icicle retreated, back toward the bank of leaf-covered windows. A trickle of dark blue blood was running down the side of her head from a gash near one of her horns. The same dark blue was smeared across her white shoulders, bleeding from a dozen cuts left by Qibli’s claws. She was panting heavily.

  “You are the worst kind of dirt-covered whale chum,” Icicle growled at Winter. “You’ve ruined everything.”

  “It seems to me like you’re the one who’s done that,” he said.

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “You idiot.”

  Winter stopped, his wings spread menacingly. “So explain it to me,” he said.

  “Our brother is alive, you fool,” she snarled. “Queen Scarlet told me. She kept the most important prisoners in a secret, separate prison. He wasn’t killed by the NightWings, although twelve of our fellow dragons were.”

  Moon clutched her head as agonizing spears of shock ricocheted through Winter’s brain, like flying shards of a broken mirror.

  “Hailstorm is alive?” Winter cried.

  “Yes — and if I had succeeded in killing the prophecy dragonets for Queen Scarlet, she would have given him back to me. To us,” Icicle hissed. “But instead you’ve killed him all over again. And now you have to live with that forever.”

  Winter turned to Moon, agony written across his face. She knew what he was asking, even though his mind couldn’t put it into clear thoughts yet.

  “It’s true,” Moon said, scanning Icicle’s thoughts. “At least, that’s what Scarlet has told her. Scarlet could be lying, but Icicle believes her.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Winter said to his sister.

  “Because you’re worthless,” she spat. “And I didn’t want to waste time arguing with your sensitive moral sensibilities.”

  “She means she didn’t want to be talked out of it,” Moon said fiercely. “And she knew you would try, and you might even have succeeded, because you’re not worthless; you’re smart and brave and capable of caring about other dragons.”

  “Is it really true, though?” he said, a question not quite for either Moon or Icicle. “Hailstorm isn’t dead?”

  Icicle narrowed her eyes and flicked her tail, weighing the possibilities. “There’s still time,” she hissed at him. “We could still kill the dragonets and get him back.”

  Winter hesitated, wavering. The memories of his brother were warm and tense, loving and terrible at the same time. He missed him desperately. And he needed to atone for the guilt of losing him in the first place.

  But he shook his head. “Not with more killing. Not for Queen Scarlet. It won’t work.”

  “Fine,” Icicle snarled. “I hope you choke on a walrus and die.”

  She whirled and dove out the nearest window, tearing straight through the leaf pane and letting in a burst of too-bright sunlight.

  “Icicle! Stop!” Winter yelled. He ran to the window and leaned out. “Come back! We can find him together!”

  There was no response. In the fading echoes Moon could hear as Icicle flew away, she saw that the IceWing was planning to find Queen Scarlet and complete her mission somehow. The dragonets were far from safe.

  Behind the desk, Qibli groaned, and Moon darted over to him as he sat up gingerly. His pale yellow scales were dented and bruised and his amber earring had been nearly torn out of his ear, making a small ragged tear where the hole had been.

  Six-Claws said it was idiotic to get this, he thought, touching his earring with a wince. I can’t believe I let an IceWing knock me out. Thorn would be unimpressed. I should have started with a fireburst to her face, but I thought she was going to attack Moon and I just jumped in without thinking. Stupid, impulsive, everything Thorn says I need to learn to fix.

  Moon reached toward him and then hesitated. “Can I —?” she asked.

  He met her eyes and nodded. She took one of his warm talons in hers and gently felt his head. There was a sizable bump over one eye and a couple of claw marks slashed across his chest, but nothing as bad as she’d feared, considering Icicle’s formidable claws.

  “That’s right,” Qibli said. He tried to stand up, flinched, and sat down again. “She’d better run. I was just resting for part two: the crushening! Where I do some — crushing — and it’s — very impressive — I think I’d better lie down.”

  “Looks like you’ll live,” she said to him, relieved.

  As will you, said Darkstalker, sounding pleased. At least for now. Tomorrow —

  Let’s not think about tomorrow right this second, Moon suggested. And by the way … thank you.

  * * *

  Moon sat with Sunny as night fell, on the tallest peak of Jade Mountain, watching a storm approach. A wall of rain was visible to the south, sweeping slowly toward them; patches of blue sky still peeked through the building banks of dark gray clouds. The wind seemed to carry the faraway scent of dragon fire, ocean spray, and the rainforest. Moon wrapped her wings around herself, shivering as the breeze picked up and small raindrops began to fall.

  Sunny had her tail tucked around her back talons and was pressing her front talons together. Her strange green-gray eyes were fixed on the line of desert they could still faintly see to the west.

  “Poor Sora,” she said. “Queen Moorhen and Queen Ruby will be looking for her. Poor everybody, really, even Icicle. I mean, if Queen Scarlet had Clay — I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “There’s one more thing I have to tell you,” Moon said.

  I’m not sure this is wise, Darkstalker interjected.

  I’m not going to hide anymore, she answered. Even if that means giving up a little safety. Or, all right, a lot of safety, you’ve made your point.

  She took a deep breath.
“I can read minds. And see the future.”

  Oh dear, Sunny thought immediately, her face creasing with skepticism. Another Fatespeaker.

  “It’s true,” Moon said. She explained about the full moons, and about how she’d hidden her powers from everyone, and about how she’d used them to overhear Icicle and Scarlet and foresee the fire.

  When she finished, Sunny’s thoughts were a lot less skeptical. “That’s kind of a huge secret to have kept for so long,” she said, studying Moon’s eyes. “It must have been hard.”

  Moon nodded.

  There was a pause, and then Sunny said, “Can you tell what I’m thinking right now?”

  “Sure.” Moon shook out her wings, tilting her head at Sunny. “You’re wondering how Tsunami will react to this — you don’t think she’ll believe me. And part of you is worrying about Starflight and hoping Fatespeaker will take care of him properly.” Sunny arched her brows, startled. “But mostly,” Moon hurried on, “you’re thinking about the school and wondering if it’s already failed. You’re thinking about giving up and sending everyone home, because it’s only the first week and all these terrible things have happened. You’re wondering if bringing peace to all the tribes is too hard, and if you’re not the right dragon for the job.”

  “Wow,” Sunny said faintly.

  “But you are,” Moon blurted. “You can’t give up. Of course it’s hard; the whole point is that you’re trying to fix something that’s nearly impossible to fix. But if no one ever even tries, then it will always be terrible. You and Clay and the others … dragons believe in you. You have to take that gift and do something with it, not run away from it.”

  Hmmmm, Darkstalker said significantly.

  I know, I hear myself, she said.

  “Was that a prophecy?” Sunny said hopefully. “Did you see us changing the world? Like, five eggs to hatch on brightest night, five dragons born to teach history and art and get everyone to calm down and be nice to each other?”

  Moon laughed. “When the school has lasted twenty years, the tribes will be at peace?” She shook her head. “No, it’s not a prophecy. It’s just faith.”