MANY DAYS PASSED, BUT IT WAS ALL A BLUR TO Morningleaf. She was exhausted. Frostfire flew them night and day. They stopped to graze and drink, but he refused to let them sleep longer than an hour. After a while he allowed her to fly on her own, and she plotted her escape, but no opportunities arose.
“There’s a lake,” whinnied the wiry buckskin mare, Larksong, raising her voice over the sweeping currents.
Frostfire flew straight ahead, not looking at it. “We just drank.”
“I don’t want a drink; I want a bath.”
Morningleaf also wanted a bath. Dried sweat had curled her fur, her feathers were oily, and dead bugs decorated her mane and tail. It was the same with the others, and they stank, making them attractive to predators when they landed.
“Keep flying,” said Frostfire.
Larksong groaned but did as she was told.
Morningleaf flew with a stallion at each flank, and scanned the scenery below, memorizing every detail of their route.
At dusk she caught sight of the southern end of the continent as they coasted toward it. Larksong saw it at the same time.
“Look! It’s the Sea of Rain,” the mare whinnied.
Frostfire cruised in a large descending circle before landing them on a white sand beach. When Morningleaf’s hooves touched the warm sand, her legs folded. She immediately rolled, scratching her bug-infested back. Larksong joined her, keeping a sharp eye on her too.
Morningleaf stretched her wings and dug her shoulder blades into the blazing sand, letting the heat soak into her aching muscles and bones. Was this the pain Star had felt most of his life, she wondered, this dull but persistent agony in the very center of her back? The warm grains soothed the throbbing, and Morningleaf rested for several minutes with her legs straight up in the air, trying her best to relax. She yawned, stretching her clenched jaws for the first time in days, but tiny bugs biting at her flesh soon disrupted her peace.
Morningleaf rolled onto her side and gazed at the transparent green water, transfixed by the gentle lapping of the waves and the memories they evoked. Star had said that saltwater killed bugs and cleaned feathers better than lake water. He’d learned this while living in his cave with Crabwing. He’d also warned her about the dangerous whales and sharks that lived in the ocean. Morningleaf glanced at the clear water and, seeing nothing alarming, decided to take her chances. She trotted into the surf, followed by Frostfire’s steeds.
A pod of dolphins played in the fading light. Their clicks and squeals resembled the unique language of the sky-herding mares. Farther out, Morningleaf sighted a coral reef alive with wiggling, nibbling fish, swaying plants, and skittering crabs. Morningleaf swiveled her ears, holding still and letting the gentle waves splash against her chest.
Larksong had also entered the water, and she swam nearby. She whistled and clicked to the dolphins, nickering with delight when they answered her. The dolphins darted in and out of the breakers, surfing toward shore, unafraid of the pegasi. Larksong flew out of the water and tried to herd them, but the sleek gray creatures slipped beneath the surface and disappeared. Larksong landed and shook herself. “Those dolphins are fast,” she squealed, speaking to Frostfire.
The grumpy captain with one blue eye snorted, not interested in her fun. “We’ll rest here tonight,” he said.
Morningleaf trotted out of the waves and curled onto the beach to preen her feathers. She watched her captors closely, wanting to be ready if the chance to escape them arose.
“What do you think Nightwing will do when he returns to Anok?” Larksong asked Frostfire.
The white stallion glared at her. “What would you do if you were the most powerful pegasus in all the herds?”
“I would kill the over-stallions and take over their territories. There would be no more war and no more starvation. My herd would enjoy all of Anok instead of being stuck in one place.”
“That sounds kind of nice,” said one of the warriors.
Frostfire whinnied. “Not if you’re an over-stallion! When Nightwing lived four hundred years ago, the herds lost their territories and were forced to live together. Those who opposed him were killed. He didn’t allow them free range of Anok, or the freedom to rule themselves.”
Morningleaf sighed and watched the surf roll and break, roll and break, as it had since the beginning of time. She wanted to speak but didn’t dare. Freedom? It was an ideal pegasi fought hard to protect—an ideal that kept them prisoners of war.
Frostfire continued. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and Star and Nightwing will kill each other.”
“How can you say that?” Morningleaf erupted. “You wanted Star dead! You all did! And now you expect him to risk his life to kill your enemy?” Her feathers rattled with fury. Of course Star planned to risk his life to save them, but they shouldn’t expect it!
Her guards raced to control her, grabbing her wings as though she might fly away.
Frostfire bared his teeth. “You’re wrong, filly. Rockwing never wanted Star dead. He tried to make a pact with him, but your black foal would not agree.”
“Of course Star hadn’t agreed,” snapped Morningleaf. “Why would he ever agree to a pact with a cruel over-stallion like Rockwing?” She nestled back into the sand, deciding to save her strength. She had to escape. She had to return to Star. He didn’t know what had happened to her—that she was in danger—unless Brackentail or Iceriver had made it back to River Herd and told him. She snorted quietly at the thought of Brackentail and Star coming to her rescue, together.
The stallions spent the rest of the evening grazing near Morningleaf, never taking their eyes off her.
She fussed over the coastal plants, ripping into their roots and trying not to swallow any sand. She slept in fits and starts, plagued by nightmares of a black stallion smothering her in her sleep. She stared at the sky, wishing she could fly away, fly home. It was a very long night for her, and for the stallions who guarded her.
26
THE LAVA TUBES
MORNINGLEAF WAS GRATEFUL WHEN DAWN came and the brilliant sunrise split the darkness and bathed the rippling ocean in orange light.
Frostfire called for their attention and revealed his plan. “Today we’ll cross the border into Jungle Herd’s territory,” he said. “We’re going to hide Morningleaf in the lava tubes.”
Morningleaf’s gut clenched . . . lava tubes?
Larksong arched her neck. “The lava tubes are just a legend.”
“No. They’re real,” insisted Frostfire. “But few pegasi outside of Jungle Herd know that, so Star won’t look for Morningleaf there.”
“But how do you know they’re real?” asked Larksong.
Morningleaf ransacked her mind for stories or legends about the lava tubes. She remembered something about Jungle Herd yearlings daring each other to enter them, and then the steeds getting lost forever. The tubes were a maze, but it was believed that they had collapsed when the volcano erupted one thousand years earlier.
Frostfire answered Larksong. “When I flew the Veins as part of my training, I explored the other territories. Jungle Herd was nesting in the north, so I flew across their border into their southern territory. I wanted to see the birthland of Nightwing.”
“Did you see the Valley of Tears?” asked Larksong.
“Yes, I saw everything: the nesting grounds where Nightwing was born, the Valley of Tears where Spiderwing attacked Moonwing’s army, and the volcano they call Firemouth. The lava tubes have re-formed, but Star doesn’t know about them, and neither does Nightwing. We’ll be safe there.”
“But what about Jungle Herd?” asked one of the warriors. “They’ll kill us on sight.”
“By now they’ve received the warning about Nightwing and left to hide in the Trap. Their territory should be empty.”
Larksong opened her wings. “I can’t wait to see the Valley of Tears,” she said. “Spiderwing outsmarted an entire army by himself—and he was just a yearling.”
Morningleaf wouldn’t
admit it out loud, but she was excited too. The legends of Anok had always fascinated her.
Frostfire gave the order to move out, and Morningleaf cantered across the sand with them. One by one they galloped into the sky, which was muggy but clear. The shoreline curved toward the southern tip of the continent, but they flew east, straight into Jungle Herd’s territory.
“There’s the Wing River,” Frostfire said.
Morningleaf glanced down and saw a shimmering path of blue water. She followed it with her eyes until she spotted the lake that fed it. Her mother had taught her the topography of the other territories, so she knew the lake was called Crystal Lake.
She traced the water to where the Wing River forked, and her mind raced, exhilarated. The War of the Yearlings had been fought there. Morningleaf soaked up all history from the elders, but this battle was one of her favorites because Spiderwing and Moonwing were the youngest over-stallions in Anok’s history—both yearlings. Next to Lightfeather and Raincloud, Spiderwing was her third favorite hero.
To Morningleaf’s left was Firemouth, the massive and angry volcano that had been threatening Jungle Herd since it last erupted one thousand years ago. Smoke rose out of its neck, and lava dribbled down its sides like the hot yolk from a cracked bird’s egg.
Frostfire landed his team at the base of this black mountain. The vegetation that was thick and damp in the flatlands melted away as the land tilted toward the mountain’s smoldering peak.
“Stay close,” Frostfire commanded. “Everything in this territory is dangerous, even the plants. The river water near the volcano is warm, but it’s filtered by the mountain, so it’s safe to drink.” He pointed his wing at Crystal Lake. “But that water is not safe for drinking or swimming.”
Morningleaf shuddered. She knew Crystal Lake was infested with fanged fish that could strip the flesh off a pegasi in seconds. It was said the bones of dead pegasi covered the bottom of the lake, and they re-formed at night to walk the land as a herd of skeletons.
Frostfire shivered in the warm breeze as though he were reading her mind. “Here’s the entrance to the tubes,” he said.
Morningleaf startled when Firemouth boomed and the land shook. She leaped sideways and huddled against a tree.
“No!” cried Frostfire. He knocked her away from the trunk, and she tumbled into a clump of hanging vines, becoming briefly entangled.
“What was that for?” she demanded.
He pointed at something in the tree. She squinted and then gasped. It was a fat yellow snake, longer than Star’s wings.
“That constrictor is waiting for a fool like yourself to walk beneath it,” said Frostfire. “Jaguars wait in trees too, and then they drop on you. Everything here is dangerous.” He glared at her with his mismatched eyes. “Stay on the animal paths.”
Morningleaf took a longer look at her surroundings and saw faint trails worn through the plants. She nodded her understanding.
Far above them, Firemouth belched, and fresh smoke and lava erupted from its neck. A putrid smell filled her nostrils.
“Get used to that,” said Frostfire. “It’s an active volcano.”
Morningleaf watched the lava slowly freeze as it traveled down the side of the mountain, halting halfway. The smoke curled into the clouds. “We’ll be safe here?” she muttered to herself.
Frostfire guided Morningleaf and his team into the lava tube, which led toward the belly of the volcano. Their hoofbeats reverberated in the darkness and faded away. Morningleaf’s hooves slipped on loose rocks. She looked down and saw that bright crystals littered the smooth floor. Above her, sharp lavacicles hung from the ceiling. The tubes themselves were round and even, as though they’d been carved into the rock by a thinking creature.
Frostfire’s team walked deep into the tunnel, pushing Morningleaf ahead of them. She flared her nostrils, taking in unfamiliar and unpleasant scents. Her ears twisted, filtering the noises for anything dangerous. Several more tubes fanned out from the first. Some returned to the open jungle, and these tunnels brought in daylight and fresh air. The others drifted into darkness.
Frostfire threw a rock into a dark tunnel, and the noise of it echoed back to them for a long time. “This is a dangerous maze,” he commented. “Don’t go down the dark tubes. But this is the spot. This is where we’ll hide her.”
They had halted in a large chamber, which glowed from a mysterious light source. Morningleaf stared at the black tubes leading off the cavern. Perhaps in the utter darkness of them she would be able to escape. Her daring thoughts caused her heart to race and her feathers to molt off her wings. She noticed her captors watching her.
“Nothing to say?” jeered Larksong.
“Don’t talk to her,” scolded Frostfire.
But Morningleaf answered. “We should be fighting Nightwing, not each other.”
Frostfire huffed. “This has nothing to do with Nightwing. We’re taking Sun Herd’s land, and by controlling you, we can control Star. He can’t stop us.”
“But he doesn’t want that territory back,” sputtered Morningleaf.
“He says that now,” said Frostfire, “but just wait. He’ll change when he grows up and begins to crave a territory of his own.”
“He’s not like you.”
Frostfire snorted. “He’s exactly like me.”
She turned her back on Frostfire, too upset to continue arguing.
Frostfire snapped his team to attention. “This is our new home. Let’s clean it and find food.” He gave each steed a job. Two cut edible plants and grasses with their teeth and brought them into the tube for storage, Larksong picked fruit, and he made Morningleaf sweep the floor clean with her wings.
She worked tirelessly, grateful to be doing something. She cleaned the main chamber and avoided the long black tunnels. She swept the pretty crystals into one pile, because they made her feel better. She pushed the dirt and the bat droppings out and down the side of the volcano. Her feathers reeked of the guano and the mud caused by the water leaking down the smooth rock walls. She wanted to wash her wings but was too angry to ask permission. She let them hang at her sides, hoping the chance to clean them would come later. Sweating and tired, she suddenly began to sob.
Frostfire ignored her.
Once the tears came, they would not stop. Morningleaf curled into a ball and cried into her filthy feathers. She had tried to put Frostfire’s attack out of her mind, but in the darkness it was as vivid as day. She heard the dying groans of the River Herd stallions in her mind. She saw Summerwind’s handsome face, and Brackentail being thrown and knocked out. She saw Larksong yanking out Iceriver’s feathers. Morningleaf sobbed until her tears ran out, then she lurched to her hooves.
She walked to the edge of the main tube, her appointed guard following her, and looked out at the jungle. Huge, colorful birds flew over the broad-leafed trees. The afternoon air was stifling and smelled of rain. It was difficult to breathe. Monkeys screamed and scrambled up the branches, stopping often to groom each other or to squabble. Morningleaf took a deep breath and coughed.
Frostfire jerked his head toward her. “Are you sick?”
She blinked at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Stick out your tongue.”
She did, reluctantly.
He tossed his mane. “You’re fine, but if your throat starts to hurt, tell me.”
“Are you sick?” she asked, suddenly horrified. Was Frostfire carrying the plague?
He turned his back on her and waited for Larksong to return, but he didn’t answer her question, and that scared her. If someone on his team had the plague, she would never escape this place! She had to get away as soon as possible.
By evening they had supplies and soft bedding. Frostfire set up the night sentries and then stood at the end of a lava tube, staring at the sky. Larksong joined him, and Morningleaf heard her say, “Look! A shooting star.”
Morningleaf closed her eyes, still overcome by sadness. Up in the vastness of space, glittering st
ars died and fell, burning trails of starfire in their wakes. It happened all the time, but tonight the falling star felt like an omen for the pegasi of Anok, for they had fixed their hopes on a black stallion born of those very fragile stars.
27
ICERIVER
STAR GLIDED OFF THE HIGHEST PEAK OF THE HOOFBEAT Mountains to a lower one that was more sheltered from the wind and rain. A half moon had passed since Morningleaf had left with Frostfire, and Star was sick with worry. Was Frostfire treating her well? Was she safe?
When Star wasn’t fretting over Morningleaf, he was practicing with his starfire, burning trees and exploding boulders. Bumblewind tried to keep him company, but Star preferred the highest peaks of the Hoofbeat Mountains, and his friend couldn’t breathe well there. So Star asked Bumblewind to watch over the Trap from the lower elevations while Star kept his eyes trained toward the west.
Spring had descended with a fury upon the north. Gnats and mosquitoes erupted with warmer weather, pestering the pegasi incessantly. Moose, elk, and caribou dropped their young and traveled in massive migrations, devouring the tundra as they passed through. The wolves howled each night after their successful hunts, and their pups suckled contentedly. Foxes and ground squirrels, birds and rabbits, bustled with an energy that was foreign to the same creatures living farther south. It was as though they knew spring would be short-lived and then summer, with its seeming unending daylight, would pass just as fast, and then the long winter would return and pursue them to the edge of their endurance.
Star fanned his wings to shelter himself from the rain that was falling, and he became captivated by a nest of baby birds on the downward slope of his peak. They were blind, with their mouths open, and they ate whatever their mother pushed into their throats. Later she would shove them out of the nest, one by one, and they would either fly or fall to their deaths. Star was daydreaming, remembering what it was like before he could fly, when Bumblewind whistled, alerting him that a herd was approaching.
Star leaped off his plateau, coasted through the pounding rain, and landed next to Bumblewind.
The Guardian Herd: Stormbound Page 15
