The Guardian Herd: Stormbound

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  Bumblewind peered at the clouds sizzling with electricity. “We shouldn’t fly during a lightning storm.”

  “We have to,” cried Silverlake.

  “Fly low and fast,” said Thundersky, and Star had never seen him looking so concerned.

  Star turned to Brackentail. “Go back and warn the herds in the Trap. Tell them they must not fly the skies any longer. It’s all come down to this. They must hide so Nightwing doesn’t see them. Will you do that?”

  “Of course,” Brackentail said, looking exhausted.

  Star kicked off and the others followed; they didn’t waste time with good-byes. They flew just below the black clouds.

  “Where is Nightwing now?” Silverlake asked Star.

  “Not far,” he said, feeling sicker. Iceriver was dead, Morningleaf was kidnapped, the plague-ridden Snow Herd steeds had refused to hide, Rockwing was heading toward Hazelwind, and Nightwing was about to make landfall in Anok. It was overwhelming.

  Star shouldered the cold breeze as Silverlake, Thundersky, and Bumblewind drafted behind him. He had to learn how to block Nightwing out of his mind. As long as the stallion could track him and invade him like he’d just done, everyone around Star was in danger.

  They flew steadily for a few hours, dodging bolts of lightning, and with each passing mile, Star grew more anxious. Finally he spoke, “I can fly much faster than this on my own.”

  Silverlake nickered, unsurprised. “Go ahead, Star. We’ll meet you there.”

  Star nodded and pushed down on the wind with his wings. He rocketed up and out of the storm, climbing until he could see the curve of the planet. The winds buffeted him at speeds that ripped loose his feathers. Star rounded his wings, gripped the current, and set his course for Sun Herd’s territory, his birth land.

  29

  ESCAPE

  A SHADOW OF WINGS DARKENED THE SIDE OF THE volcano where Frostfire had led his group to drink from the steamy river. “Inside,” ordered Frostfire in a hushed whinny.

  Larksong and the others scooted back into the lava tubes.

  “It’s a Jungle Herd patrol,” commented Frostfire. “It looks like some of their steeds decided not to hide in the Trap.”

  Several days had passed, and Frostfire kept his pegasi inside the cave except to drink. The tubes were miserable—

  hot and dark. They unraveled through the belly of the volcano for miles. Twice already his steeds had gotten lost. Strange noises echoed from the depths, and his team was certain dangerous creatures lurked there. Frostfire insisted it was only rats, but that did little to relax them.

  Frostfire waited until the Jungle Herd patrol was well out of sight, then he sent the two stallions to gather coconuts. His team liked the taste of the sweet milk inside, and besides, his steeds were bored. Cracking the coconuts would entertain them.

  Just after the stallions left, the rain began to fall. Frostfire sighed. It rained every afternoon here for hours. He and his pegasi stood at the mouth of the tube looking out, waiting. Waiting for the rain to stop, waiting for Nightwing to come, waiting for Star to defeat him, and waiting for Rockwing to make his exchange: Morningleaf for Sun Herd’s territory. The waiting set Frostfire’s feathers on edge.

  When the stallions returned, they dropped the coconuts on the rock floor of the tubes and watched them roll. “Who wants to play wing toss?” asked Larksong.

  Frostfire glowered at her, but the others leaped at the chance to play, to do something.

  “Can we?” she asked him, fluttering her long black lashes.

  Frostfire nodded. He hated his inability to say no to her, and he hated the fact that she knew he couldn’t say no to her. Frostfire left a gray pinto stallion in charge of Morningleaf and flew to watch the game.

  Since there were three of them, Frostfire and his warrior stallion teamed up against Larksong. They tossed the coconuts back and forth between them. After each catch, they stepped back a winglength. As they drew apart, the game became more challenging. The first steed to miss a catch was out, and then the second, leaving the last steed the winner.

  They played several rounds before dusk fell and Frostfire grew nervous. “I’m going to check on Morningleaf.” He abandoned the game and trotted back to the lava tubes. The pinto stallion and Morningleaf were dozing side by side. Frostfire relaxed and joined them, standing just inside the dark maw of the tunnel as he watched the warm rain drip off the broad jungle leaves.

  Moments later, a sharp squeal jolted Frostfire out of his thoughts. The pinto stallion slammed into him, knocking Frostfire and Morningleaf sideways, but the stallion wasn’t looking at them. He was staring fearfully into the blackness behind them.

  “Watch it!” Frostfire scolded.

  The pinto ignored him, and was soon bucking and flapping his wings. Morningleaf skittered across the rocks, trying to avoid being crushed by the thrashing pegasus. Frostfire looked closer and saw blood dripping down the pinto’s white-and-gray back. “What’s happening to you?” he asked.

  The stallion trotted frantically in a tight circle, his lips curled, his chest heaving. He wasn’t listening to Frostfire; he was snapping his jaws and twisting his ears. Frostfire and Morningleaf scrambled farther out of his way. Something had attacked him.

  Frostfire reared, trying to see over the pinto’s back. Then a flurry of wings burst into the cavern, and supersonic whistles confused Frostfire’s ears as the stallion’s attackers swarmed: bats! They swirled out of the black depths and landed on the pegasi, biting their necks.

  Frostfire trumpeted a warning to the steeds outside, all the while flapping his wings, hitting bats, and smashing them against the rock walls. The chestnut filly was also under attack. Frostfire was overwhelmed by twin white fangs, transparent wings, and tiny, clawed feet. Bats charged him with their mouths open, slicing and biting him all over. Frostfire neighed in frustration. He bucked and they flew off him, but returned with a fury. A big one landed on his neck. Frostfire felt the sharp poke of its fangs piercing his hide. He squealed with anger.

  This was not an enemy he could effectively fight in a small space. “Out of the cave!” Frostfire whinnied. He flew out of the tube into the fresh air. The bats followed him and then disappeared into the jungle, but Frostfire still heard their awful squeaks.

  He shook himself, while his pinto stallion rolled in the damp grass. The rest of the steeds landed next to him. “What happened?” asked Larksong.

  “Bats,” said Frostfire.

  Larksong inspected his wounds and then stiffened. “Where’s Morningleaf?”

  Frostfire glanced around but didn’t see her. He neighed, furious, and flew back into the tube. He and his team searched all the areas they’d been exploring over the last few days. They were empty.

  Morningleaf was gone.

  30

  THE DARK

  WHEN THE BATS ATTACKED, MORNINGLEAF seized her chance to escape. She slipped into one of the dark lava tubes and crept as quickly as she could into the blackness. Behind her she heard squealing and the fluttering of wings—bat wings and pegasi wings—as the horde of fanged fliers snacked on the stallions. She’d only suffered a few bites herself before she darted away. Ahead of her, the sounds echoed against the solid silence of stone.

  Morningleaf felt her way through the tubes using her sensitive wingtips. She swallowed the urge to trot, fearing she’d fall into a hole and slide into the lava that she was sure ran in hot rivers under the mountain. As the whinnies of the stallions died away, she became aware of her rapid breathing, which filled the silence. Meanwhile the tube became narrower and tighter. Soon she bumped her head on the ceiling and had to lower her neck. Fear slithered through her gut like a tangle of snakes, and every instinct told her to turn back.

  But Morningleaf kept going.

  She had to warn Star. He had no idea Rockwing plotted against him. Memories of the fearless and arrogant over-stallion of Mountain Herd made her feel sick and angry, and those emotions—mixed with her fear of the dark—left her
light-headed. Morningleaf halted and took a deep breath, her ears swiveling. She heard nothing but her own panting breath.

  She continued forward with her neck low as the tube continued to shrink. “I’m going to get stuck,” she whispered fearfully, and this caused her steady heartbeat to thrum, thin and fast.

  Morningleaf could not return the way she had come—she’d be captured again—so she kept going, crouching now. Her brother, Hazelwind, was also in grave danger. He was living in Sun Herd’s old lands with his followers. When Rockwing took over the territory, he would drive Hazelwind out . . . and poor Echofrost! The sight of Mountain Herd warriors flying over the Blue Mountains would fracture what was left of Echofrost’s mind, she was sure of it. Morningleaf smacked into a wall. “Ouch.” She froze, listening. Yes, there it was—the noise of hoofbeats and sharp whistles sounded from behind her. It was the sky-herding mare, Larksong, coming after her!

  Morningleaf spread her wings, feeling the walls for an opening. Her best hope was to get deeply lost in the maze, or to get out quickly, while they still believed she was inside. A gentle breeze, like a caterpillar’s breath, wafted through the tunnel and fluttered across her eyelashes. It was an air current! I must be near an opening, she thought. She followed it and found another tube, this one larger and to her left. She turned into it and after ten steps came to another tube. She turned again, losing the flutter of air. She paused, baffled.

  Morningleaf turned in a slow circle, listening. The sounds of the mare were far away now. She hoped she was deep enough inside the volcano that Frostfire’s team wouldn’t find her. Besides, with every step she risked making noise, or tripping and injuring herself. Morningleaf lay down and waited. Just listening for what seemed like hours, until her eyes began to close.

  Kaboom! Firemouth roared, waking Morningleaf, who didn’t remember falling asleep. She scrambled to her hooves, her heart racing. The mountain shook, sounding like a thunderstorm. Loose rock and dust fell on Morningleaf, coating her in dirt. She swallowed the desire to bolt, forcing herself to hold still. Would the lava rush through the tubes? Would she be burned alive? Morningleaf’s blood rushed through her limbs and muscles, urging her to run. She clamped her wings tight against her back; to panic in here was to die in here.

  She stood still, waiting, listening, but no lava came to sweep her away—only a rush of beetles that had been disturbed by the shaking mountain. As their clattering bodies scurried past her, Morningleaf exhaled with relief. Bugs were preferable to lava.

  She inched forward, creeping slowly so as not to alert Frostfire’s team to her presence. After traveling a long distance, she settled into a steady gait and walked—for how long she did not know.

  Days passed, and Morningleaf was still lost in the tubes. She counted the passing time by the hunger growing in her hollow belly. She’d known when the first day had passed because she’d gone without food that long before. The whistles of the sky-herder had come and gone as she searched the miles of tunnels. Clearly Larksong was communicating with the stallions, using her whistles to let them know where she was. They were helping one another, working as a team, so they wouldn’t get lost in the maze. Morningleaf guessed they also took breaks to eat and drink. Periodically Firemouth roared, the tunnels shook, and more loose rocks tumbled onto her head.

  Still, Morningleaf traveled, and listened.

  She’d guessed another day had passed when her hungry belly had ceased being merely restless and took up a desperate, nagging clamor for food. Rats scurried busily through the tunnels, often skittering over her hooves and climbing up her tail. Morningleaf shoved them off her with her nose, curling her lip at their putrid scent and chiding herself for feeling envious of them. The rats were fat and unafraid. They were eating something, and she was not.

  After another day or two, the painful pinch of hunger had been replaced by unbearable thirst—terrible and throat searing. Morningleaf’s tongue swelled and her eyes dried out, feeling like shriveled grapes. Her heart slowed, weakening to a mouse-like beat. She lay down to rest, just for a minute, but once down, she feared she would not rise again.

  Frostfire’s mare had not given up her searching, but Morningleaf realized she had to get out or she would die in the tubes. She made a plan and decided to travel only when she heard the mare whistling, like now, because only then could she be sure she was walking in the opposite direction.

  Morningleaf staggered to her hooves, her legs shaking, threatening to buckle. Firemouth belched, and several creatures flew past her head—more bats, she guessed. Even after living here for days, her eyes had not adjusted to the total darkness. The tunnels were so black she couldn’t see the whiskers on her muzzle. She walked slowly forward, feeling for new tunnels with her wings, all the while imagining Star’s face when they’d said good-bye. She’d thought Nightwing was their greatest concern, but once again the greatest threat was coming from another herd.

  She stumbled over loose rocks and swayed with spells of dizziness. Larksong’s clicks and whistles bounced off the rock walls and gave Morningleaf a mental picture of the tunnels. This is how bats see in the dark, she thought. She also realized Frostfire’s team would not give up their search. Frostfire was not the sort of captain who failed his missions. She hoped to lose them in the jungle, if she ever got out of the tubes.

  Morningleaf walked for many more hours, twisting and turning through the volcano, moving slower than a snail, still afraid of falling into a lava pit. She suddenly halted, pricking her ears. There it was again: air—a breeze! She followed it, creeping through another narrow tunnel. She tripped on a large rock, and her ankle twisted as her hoof slid off it. She bit back a squeal of pain and kept moving, limping now, her eyes too dry to make tears.

  Seconds later Morningleaf heard the short call of a bird, followed by another, and she kept her ears trained on their singing. Soon the moist air of the jungle filtered into her nostrils. She turned a corner and gasped, overjoyed. There ahead of her was a sphere of light in an exit—a perfect circle in the rock and beyond it green trees and blue skies. She blinked rapidly, blinded by the sudden sunshine. She picked up each hoof slowly and carefully set it down, making no noise but moving faster. When she reached the end of the tube, she stopped, listening and smelling the wind before she dared stick out her head.

  When she did, she saw she was on the northern side of Firemouth. The forest here was especially dense, and there was no sign of her captors. She stepped out and hobbled into the foliage. The leaves were wet from a recent rainfall. She lapped at them fiercely, taking the drops of water onto her tongue and swallowing, feeling the liquid drip down her dry throat and into her empty belly. The grasses below her hooves were also damp and fat with moisture. She ripped up hunks of foliage and chewed, not caring if she was eating weeds, but Morningleaf had learned from Sweetroot not to gorge herself after a long break from eating. After several minutes she forced herself to stop.

  Already feeling much better, Morningleaf looked around her and stretched her wings. The trees were the tallest she’d ever seen. She knew Jungle Herd built sleeping nests in the heights, but their nesting grounds were not located near Firemouth. She walked deeper into the jungle, getting her bearings, her ears swiveling and her nostrils flaring. A lizard sprang off a low branch, hit the jungle floor, and scurried away, and the sudden movement spooked Morningleaf off the ground. She hovered a winglength above the path and decided to cruise through the forest this way since her injured ankle had begun to swell.

  She was exhausted and weak, but needed to put distance between herself and Frostfire. So when she heard the voice behind her, she did not believe her ears.

  “I’ve got you!”

  She turned and gasped.

  It was Frostfire.

  31

  JET STREAM

  MORNINGLEAF CHOKED ON HER DESPAIR, FEELING all was lost. Frostfire pranced, waiting to see which way she would fly. His triumphant expression enraged her. Morningleaf whirled around. Maybe she could still e
scape. “You don’t have me!” she whinnied, and then she darted straight up into the sky. Her body was weak, but anger fueled her muscles. All that mattered was escaping and warning Hazelwind and Echofrost about Rockwing’s plans to invade Sun Herd’s territory. She couldn’t let Frostfire stop her.

  The white captain zipped after her, snapping at her tail, but Morningleaf was smaller and could dodge quickly through the dense trees. She surged ahead, inspired by the legend of Raincloud, the bravest mare in the history of Anok. Morningleaf narrowed her eyes, flapping her wings harder, her heart pumping to the rhythm.

  Behind her she heard Frostfire trumpeting for the others.

  Morningleaf did not bother to look back. She kept her eyes trained on her path and took a deep breath, bolstering herself for the impossible thing she was about to do.

  With her nose trained upward and her wings pushing her higher and higher, Morningleaf rose past the clouds and kept climbing. Behind her, she heard Frostfire’s gasping breaths. Mountain Herd pegasi were too muscular and short winged for long, high flights. Morningleaf was small and long feathered, but she was quickly running out of oxygen as she surged higher.

  Black spots sprinkled her vision, and her ears prickled from the devastating rays of the sun. Morningleaf dared a backward glance and saw Frostfire hovering far below, sapped, waiting for his sky herder, who was small and built to fly higher.

  Morningleaf couldn’t be in the sky when Larksong arrived. The mare would catch her in seconds. Morningleaf needed to ride a jet stream. It was the fastest way to fly, although the most dangerous. The jet stream wind currents ripped across the highest elevations at hurricane speeds. Only Desert Herd steeds were skilled at riding them. But it was Morningleaf’s only chance to get away.

  She flew higher, searching. Where was the northern jet stream? Morningleaf panicked, confused by the conflicting currents that battered her, until she finally encountered a wake. A wake meant a faster current was near, and this one was traveling north.