The Guardian Herd: Stormbound

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  18

  RESCUE

  STAR HOVERED OVER THE YEARLING FILLY WHO was drowning in the pond. “Relax,” he nickered, attempting to soothe her panic.

  She tried to speak but choked on the water. Her front hooves thrashed, chopping at the ice. She slipped under, reemerged, and then slipped under again. Her small body sank, drifting toward the bottom, and her wings floated up as she dropped.

  Star angled his feathers, flapping his wings so fast they blurred, and he flipped his body so he was hovering nose down over the water. He thrust his head beneath the surface, and the shocking coldness burned him like fire. He seized the root of the filly’s left wing in his teeth and pounded his wings, slowly lifting her up and out of the water. She was struggling and waterlogged, and he couldn’t lift her clear. He dragged her out of the water and slid her body onto the solid ice, pulling her across it, and then released her onto the shore.

  Sweetroot arrived and took charge of the half-drowned yearling while Star shook the frigid water out of his mane. Sweetroot ordered two steeds to massage her chest and two others to fan her dry. “Roll her over,” she said to Star. “I think I saw a wound.”

  Star pushed her over with his nose and winced when he saw the parallel scratches of a giant animal, like a tiger or a bear.

  “She looks like a Mountain Herd filly,” said Morningleaf. She cupped her wings over the filly’s face and used her hot breath to warm the air between them. “What is she doing alone in the north?”

  Iceriver scanned the skies. “She might not be alone.”

  River Herd huddled together while Sweetroot worked. The gusting wind kept blowing the medicine mare’s mane into her eyes. “I need shelter,” she snapped.

  Star kicked off in search of a less windy resting spot for the herd and the injured pegasus. The strange filly would need time to heal, if she survived at all. He saw a large rock in the distance, but it wasn’t big enough to protect all the steeds from the wind. He returned to Sweetroot. “We’ll have to shelter in the Trap.”

  Reluctantly, Sweetroot nodded. “Okay. Move her,” she ordered. Two stallions each grabbed a wing and lifted the unconscious filly. Sweetroot trotted to the edge of the dark forest. The rest of River Herd followed.

  The filly was laid out on her uninjured side. The helpers resumed the massaging and fanning. Sweetroot sent an apprentice to gather chickweed for the animal scratches, in case of infection.

  Brackentail trotted forward for a closer look and gasped.

  “What is it?” asked Thundersky.

  “I know that filly,” said Brackentail. “I can’t believe she’s here.” His eyes were round with terror.

  “Who is it?” asked Silverlake.

  “It’s Rockwing’s daughter, Shadepebble.”

  “What? Are you sure?” asked Thundersky, grimacing.

  Brackentail nodded. “I’m sure.”

  Panic blazed through River Herd. The steeds shuffled deeper into the Trap to hide themselves. “Can you wake her?” Dewberry asked Sweetroot.

  “I’ll try.”

  Star calmed the herd. “Listen,” he neighed. “No over-stallion brings his yearling filly on a raid. I don’t think Rockwing is here, and if he were, his army would have protected her from the animal that attacked her. This filly might belong to him, but I think she’s alone.”

  “Maybe she’s a refugee who’s come to join us,” suggested Morningleaf.

  Brackentail shook his head, remembering his time with Mountain Herd after the canyon run. “No. She was happy. She wouldn’t have left the Blue Mountains on her own.”

  “Then how do you think she got here?” asked Iceriver.

  Brackentail looked perplexed. “I have no idea, but I agree with Star. Rockwing isn’t with her. She was attacked, and she fell through the ice. These things would not have happened on Rockwing’s watch.” Brackentail took a deep breath. “But—”

  “Go on,” said Star.

  “But that doesn’t mean Rockwing isn’t looking for her.”

  Dewberry nodded. “Of course he is. We can’t keep her.”

  Morningleaf fluttered her feathers. “We can’t abandon her either. She’s hurt.”

  “Let’s wait until she wakes up and then hear what she has to say,” suggested Star.

  “It’s going to be a while,” said Sweetroot. “She’s out cold, but I think she’s going to live.”

  Thundersky tucked his crimson wings across his back. “We’ll settle here for the night.”

  The River Herd steeds spent the rest of the day digging for lichen, grass, and roots. To Star’s surprise, food was more plentiful in the Trap. The strange plants that had adapted to the dim light were protected from the heavy snow that covered the open tundra. It was warmer too, and the soil was not frozen. The thick ceiling of intertwined branches blocked in the heat of the creatures that lived there. Sweetroot left the injured filly’s side to teach River Herd how to sample the foreign greenery for poisons before eating.

  Star and his friends remained with Shadepebble. “This is Petalcloud’s sister,” whispered Morningleaf, examining the unconscious filly with intense interest. “She’s just as pretty.”

  Star remembered hearing something about Shadepebble being born a dud, and a runt. He looked at the tiny, heavily spotted yearling lying on the forest floor, an almost exact replica of her silver sire except for her pink feathers. All that really mattered was that she was here, and her presence put River Herd in grave danger.

  “I wonder if Shadepebble is as sour as Petalcloud?” Dewberry asked, thinking aloud. “Look.” She tugged on the filly. “One wing is shorter than the other. Maybe Rockwing banished her?”

  Star looked closer at Shadepebble’s wings and saw Dewberry was right. “We’ll know soon enough,” he said.

  The days were still alarmingly short, and the sun had already passed the noon arc and was dropping toward the western horizon. While River Herd grazed on plants, Silverlake posted her sentries, and some of the yearlings went flying with Thundersky and Iceriver. Star stayed behind, wanting to heal the filly but knowing Sweetroot wouldn’t want him to. Star and his friends surrounded Shadepebble to keep her warm.

  Throughout the rest of the day, the filly had spurts of consciousness. She cried out with pain, and her legs scrambled as if she was running in her dreams.

  “Maybe she was stolen from Mountain Herd,” whispered Morningleaf, her eyes round with concern.

  Star nodded. “Maybe.” The day passed and half of the night. Star did not sleep, choosing to keep watch over the filly. She jerked and sometimes cried out. Every second she spent with River Herd put them in greater danger. If they were discovered with Shadepebble, it could be assumed that River Herd kidnapped her. And that would start a war.

  Star glanced around and didn’t see Sweetroot anywhere, so he decided to heal the filly. River Herd needed to know why she was in the north, and besides, her pain was intense. Star didn’t think she’d be able to handle it when she woke. He would leave the scars on her body as proof that she’d been attacked by an animal and not by River Herd, in case she’d lost any of her memory and thought to accuse them.

  Star shielded his head with his wings and called up his starfire, blowing it softly over Shadepebble like a warm breeze. Morningleaf woke, saw what he was doing, and encouraged him. “I was hoping you’d help her,” she whispered.

  After several minutes the filly opened her eyes. She was warm and perfect, except for the thick scars running down her flank. Star was pleased. Sweetroot had predicted the filly would live. He had just sped up the healing process.

  Shadepebble startled when she became fully awake; her eyes were white rimmed and confused.

  “You’re safe,” said Morningleaf, trying to calm her.

  The spotted yearling fluttered her pink feathers. “When am I?”

  “You mean ‘where,’ don’t you?” said Dewberry.

  Shadepebble struggled to her hooves, stared at her healed scars, and blinked her eyes in disbel
ief. “No, I mean when. How long have I been asleep? When did you find me?”

  “Earlier this same day,” answered Morningleaf, baffled by the strange mare.

  “But I’m healed,” she exclaimed.

  Morningleaf’s eyes glowed. “Star did that.”

  “The black foal? Where is he?”

  “He’s right next to you,” said Morningleaf.

  Shadepebble swiveled her head and stared at Star, blinking as though she couldn’t believe her eyes. “You healed me?”

  Star nodded.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “I do,” said Star. “You’re Rockwing’s filly.”

  Her eyes bulged. “Yes. My father conquered your herd and tried to have you executed.”

  Star exhaled long and slow. “I know that, Shadepebble.”

  She gasped. “Of course—I’m sorry. . . . I just don’t understand why you saved me. You could have let me drown and had revenge on my sire. I’m his last foal.”

  “Yes, I know that too.”

  The runt filly stared at him for a long time, but Star saw her thoughts swimming rapidly through her eyes, schooling and scattering like fish. Finally she lowered her head and whispered, “My sire believes you’ll claim Anok and destroy us. Is that true?”

  Dewberry snorted. “He says that to scare you.”

  Star pawed the cold soil. “It’s not true, Shadepebble, but you can believe what you want.” He looked south, toward Mountain Herd’s territory. “I’ve healed you; you’re free to go.”

  She shook her head. “Can I stay, for a while.” She glanced up at the leaves rustling in the wind. “I’ve been on an incredible journey since I was stolen from my herd. I’ve learned . . . well, I’ve learned that my sire has told me many lies. I’m not in a hurry to go home.” She widened her dark eyes, and Star saw she was telling the truth, but he was also stunned that the daughter of an over-stallion like Rockwing wanted to stay with River Herd.

  Morningleaf answered for him. “We have to speak to our council about that. Your sire will send an army for you. We don’t want trouble.”

  Shadepebble nodded. “I understand.”

  “But how did you get here?” asked Morningleaf, changing the subject. “Who stole you?”

  The yearling strained to stand. “I was kidnapped by Snow Herd raiders,” she explained. “But after my sister recognized me, she banished the captain of the raid for making such a horrible mistake, and she sent me off with him. When my sire sends his warriors to get me back, Snow Herd will claim the captain acted on his own, as a stallion gone rogue.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “We’ve been wandering the north ever since.”

  “Where is this captain?” asked Star.

  Shadepebble shivered. “I don’t know. He saved me from an ice tiger that was chasing us. I kept running, and then I fell through the ice.”

  Morningleaf stroked Shadepebble’s back. “You’re safe now.”

  Shadepebble looked at Star. “I can still feel your power working inside me, keeping me warm.” Shadepebble lowered her head, her eyes heavy with sleep.

  “You’re exhausted,” commented Morningleaf. “You should rest.”

  “Thank you,” Shadepebble nickered, soon falling asleep.

  Star stood watch over Shadepebble, his thoughts in a jumble. The daughter of his worst enemy now trusted him because he’d been gentle with her and healed her. It was similar to how he’d gained the trust of the bird Crabwing. He’d fed the gull and treated him gently. If only the pegasi of Anok allowed him to help them, they would surrender their fears and unite. He was sure of it.

  19

  UPSIDE DOWN

  AFTER ARRIVING AT THE SOUTHERNMOST EDGE of the Trap, Frostfire’s team had to shelter for three days while a terrible blizzard passed through. Frostfire was still upset they had not found Shadepebble with Snow Herd. He wondered how Rockwing would react when he failed to return the overstallion’s last surviving filly. It made the mission of capturing Morningleaf that much more important. He could fail once—maybe—but he could not fail twice. Rockwing would banish him, or worse. Frostfire sighed, feeling overwhelmed.

  “Frostfire, come see this!” cried Larksong.

  His blood raced at the alarming tone of her voice, and he flew toward her. She stood on a patch of melted snow near the edge of the Trap. Sprawled at her hooves was one of his stallions.

  Frostfire landed. “What is it?”

  Larksong backed away, her eyes round. “His tongue! Look at his tongue. It’s blue.”

  Frostfire’s small team panicked at the sight of the blue roan warrior lying on his side, coughing. Sweat beaded and rolled down his hide. “I’m fine,” he rasped.

  Frostfire flew up and hovered over him. “Get back!” he whinnied to his team. “You too,” he neighed at Larksong. Frostfire’s thoughts tumbled. His mission was swirling out of reach. They were probably all infected.

  He glanced at Larksong. Her black eyes were desperate. “What do we do?” she cried.

  “Just get away from him,” he said. “All of you.” His team flew toward the lake about a mile away. Frostfire gazed at the wheezing stallion. “How long have you been sick?” he asked.

  “My throat’s hurt since we spied on Snow Herd. I didn’t . . . I had no idea it was the plague. I thought it was the cold weather.”

  The stallion’s mouth hung open, and his tongue lolled out, swollen and blue. His eyes were fever bright. Frostfire knew that if the plague didn’t kill him, the sweating would. The stallion’s coat was wet, and the cold air would soon freeze him to death. Spastic shivers ran through the warrior’s body at intervals. He thrashed, but he did not have the energy to rise. “Don’t leave me here. Please.”

  Frostfire’s throat tightened. This was his warrior, and he did not want to leave him to die alone in the snow, but his team could not risk staying near him, nor spend weeks trying to heal him. “Don’t plead with me,” he said to the roan. “I can’t save you. I want to, but I can’t. I can’t even stay near you.”

  The stallion closed his mouth, understanding.

  “I can speed your journey to the golden meadow,” Frostfire offered, coiling back his sharpened hoof.

  The stallion rolled his eyes toward Frostfire. “No. Once I rest, I’ll be able to get up. I’ll make it home on my own.”

  Frostfire nodded, feeling proud of the stallion’s determination, even though they both knew he would not make it home. “I’m sorry,” Frostfire said, and meant it. He hated to lose a warrior.

  Frostfire flew away and joined his team. “It’s the Blue Tongue plague,” he said to them.

  Larksong snapped her jaws shut. “I’m not going to die in this miserable place,” she said. “Not from some dumb plague, and not before we steal that filly from Star.” She twisted her head to look at Frostfire. “The storm is over. What’s the plan? How are we going to get her? The black foal keeps her close.”

  Frostfire grimaced. Again he was taken aback by the boldness of her questions. As a captain, he wasn’t used to them. He had to remind himself she was a sky herder, not a warrior, and she didn’t know any better. “When it’s time, I’ll give you your orders,” he said.

  Larksong leaned in close to him, staring into his eyes. Her wing brushed his. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

  Her touch startled him and rendered him speechless. He felt trapped by her intense gaze and the heady scent of her long mane. He said nothing, his mind spinning.

  Larksong huffed and broke eye contact.

  Frostfire trotted away from her to collect himself. She was utterly fearless of him—unlike the rest of his team. He could kill her for talking back to her captain during a mission; surely she knew that even though she was a sky herder. Frostfire tossed his mane, baffled by her and her words because, as usual, she was right. He didn’t have a plan. He was hoping one would present itself once he found the River Herd steeds. The best idea he’d come up with so far was to create a distraction and then whisk Morningleaf away. B
ut he had no idea how he would accomplish that. Not yet.

  He glanced at the sky, which was pale blue and full of puffy white clouds; it wasn’t going to snow today. With or without a plan, it was time to get moving. “We’ll travel along the edge of the Trap, heading north, until we reach the Hoofbeat Mountains.”

  His team flexed their wings for flight.

  “It will take us several days to reach the end of the woods,” he explained. “Then we’ll be in the Ice Lands, and we’ll only fly at night. River Herd could be anywhere.”

  “Or they could be right in front of us,” said Larksong, looking smug.

  “What?” Frostfire whipped around to find Star, Thundersky, and the rest of River Herd staring at him from a mile away. Standing next to the black foal was the target of his mission: Morningleaf. And if all this wasn’t shocking enough, next to her was Brackentail, the yearling colt he’d left for dead. Behind him was Frostfire’s sire, Iceriver.

  Frostfire gulped, driving air into his tight lungs, and dropped his wings in defeat. His head swam with questions. River Herd was supposed to be in the Ice Lands; what were they doing heading south? And why were there so few of them? Maybe they too had succumbed to the plague.

  There was nothing to do now but confront them. He reminded himself that he had an excuse to be here: he was searching for Shadepebble. Frostfire led his team across the snow, and they halted a short distance from River Herd. Iceriver neighed a short, joyful greeting. Frostfire hadn’t seen his sire since the day of his weaning, but he did not return the greeting. Anger sizzled through his veins at the sight of Iceriver. His sire had not stopped Petalcloud from trading him, and that fact would always be a thorn between them.

  Brackentail pinned his ears, and Frostfire swept his eyes over the brown yearling. The injuries he’d given Brackentail before banishing him were healed. The black foal must have used his powers on him, because Frostfire remembered breaking one of those orange wings permanently.

  Frostfire’s gaze landed on Star. He’d grown taller since his birthday. It seemed ages ago that Frostfire had snatched the dud colt by his useless wings and carried him off to meet Rockwing for the first time. Now the dud could fly, and he could easily kill Frostfire with a huff of his breath.