Star stepped next to Frostfire and projected his shield, the gold-tinged orb stretched to fit around them both. They kicked off in tandem and surged toward the clouds. Nothing could penetrate Star’s shield, not even the damp white mist of the heights. The two stallions emerged above it with dry hides and feathers. Star looked down and saw the land contract as the sky expanded. A quick flash of fur drew his gaze to the tundra below. “Look, an ice tiger,” he neighed.
Frostfire glanced at the cat. “I can’t wait to be rid of this place.”
Star watched the black-striped tiger glide toward the river; her fat paws leaving deep prints in the moss. She lapped at the water and washed her face. Even from their high altitude, Star saw that her fur was covered in blood from a fresh kill. She sat on her haunches and looked up at them, attracted, Star guessed, by the shine of the bubble and the flapping of their wings. When they reached the jet stream, they would leave the north behind, possibly forever. Star’s heart clenched; he’d grown fond of the north, even with all its dangers and horrible weather and massive predators, because it was wildly beautiful too.
Star pushed higher, until the river was a tiny blue vein and the tiger had disappeared. Forceful winds buffeted the shield, but Star and Frostfire flew untouched by the currents. Frostfire breathed easily and marveled at it. “I’ve never flown so high,” he whinnied. The atmosphere inside the sphere was warm and pleasant.
“Look,” said Star. “The land is curved, not flat.”
They pumped their wings, flying higher, until they reached the altitude of the jet streams.
“How do we find the southern one?” asked Star. The fast-traveling currents were invisible to the eye.
Frostfire gaped at him. “I don’t know. I thought you knew.”
“How would I know? I’ve never actually flown in a jet stream.”
“Neither have I,” whinnied Frostfire.
Star rattled his feathers, furious at himself. His mission to rescue his herd was off to a terrible start. “The shield is blocking me from feeling the direction of the air currents,” he whinnied to Frostfire. “I’m going to have to release it until we find the southwestern stream.”
“But I can’t breathe up here.”
“Then hold your breath!” Star withdrew the starfire, and the bubble evaporated. Shrill, freezing winds swarmed around them, and the two stallions tightened their wings to their bodies, struggling to stay parallel to the land. In seconds their muscles were quivering from the cold, but the radiation from the sun pricked their sensitive ears and muzzles. Star braced against the biting rays. He had only minutes to find the jet stream before Frostfire passed out. “Stay close to me!”
Star floundered through the crosscurrents, looking for the powerful wake that indicated a jet stream.
Frostfire flapped hard, his body stiff and his eyes leaking tears. Star felt the seconds burning away. He paddled through the currents like he was swimming through water. Far below his hooves, the clouds drifted in fat puffs, and he could see the entire expanse of the north, all the way to where the land ended at the Great Sea. The higher Star flew, the larger the planet appeared. Somewhere down below were his friends, captives of Nightwing. He glanced east, but a distant mountain range obscured his view of inland Anok. Star shook his head—focus!
He glanced at Frostfire. The white stallion’s eyes bulged, and he kicked at the sky, beginning to convulse. Star soared higher, his eyes mere slits against the piercing sun. A strong, fast wake shoved him aside. He’d found a jet stream, but it was flowing north.
Star shook his head at Frostfire, duck-dived under the current, and popped up on the other side. Frostfire followed, but the effort cost him the last of his reserves. His eyes rolled back, and his wings stalled.
Star felt the tug of another powerful current, this one flowing south.
Frostfire lost momentum and began to drop.
Star would lose the current if he saved Frostfire.
The white stallion’s mouth fell slack, and his body jerked from lack of oxygen. His eyelids fluttered shut.
Star gave up the jet stream, pinned his wings, and plunged after Frostfire. The stallion fell like a stone through the clouds. Star raced toward him, piercing the crosscurrents, his eyes watering and his lips flapping against his teeth. He caught up to Frostfire, spread his wings, and sprang his shield around them both. Now they were connected, but falling faster. Star turned his nose toward the sun and pumped his massive wings. He slowed their descent and then managed to drag them back to their previous altitude. The orb of starfire had its own atmosphere of fresh-flowing oxygen, and Frostfire’s eyes fluttered open. “You saved me,” he said, sounding surprised.
Star bit back his frustration. Why were the pegasi shocked when he did exactly what he promised to do? He ignored Frostfire’s comment. “I found the current, but then I lost it. We’re going to have to take our chances on finding it again. It’s not safe for you if I retract the shield.”
Frostfire snorted agreement.
Star flew on, trying to remember the exact altitude of the southern jet stream. Seconds later, he and Frostfire were sucked into a ripping current. “Ack!” Star cried, and Frostfire screamed. The current hurtled them south and sent their orb spinning in violent circles. Snatches of blue and white and brown colors tumbled past in a blur. Star drew in his wings, having no idea how to stop the rolling.
Frostfire flung out his wingtips and rotated against the direction of their spin; his movements were agile and quick, and he soon gained control of the sphere, which was just large enough to encase them both comfortably, as long as they flew side by side.
“How’d you do that?” Star asked once they were stable.
“I learned how to control spins in flight school,” said Frostfire.
The clouds zoomed past them as they rode the rapid current south. “I’ll watch the land to the west, and you watch the land to the east for the pegasi.”
They reached the Blue Mountains and flew until almost sunset, and then Frostfire whinnied. “I see something!”
Star followed his eyes, and what he saw jolted his heart. At the southern end of Mountain Herd’s territory, in a meadow called Valley Field, was a huge expanse of black, charred grass.
“Nightwing’s been here,” said Frostfire, his voice flat.
Star’s pulse quickened. “Let’s go see if he still is.”
7
VALLEY FIELD
STAR AND FROSTFIRE DROPPED OUT OF THE JET stream and plummeted toward land. “We have to slow down,” whinnied Star as they sped toward the surface of Anok.
The two pegasi threw out their wings, and the orb responded, slowing little by little as the ground rushed toward them.
“The shield will protect us if we crash, right?” asked Frostfire.
“We’re about to find out!”
The orb screamed toward land, with the two pegasi braced inside of it. Frostfire squeezed shut his eyes, and Star cringed as they rushed toward the meadow and then slammed into it. The sphere bounced across the grass, spinning them in a furious circle. When the orb finally rolled to a halt, Star retracted the shield, and he and Frostfire spilled onto solid ground, dazed and panting.
The stallions stood up and glanced around, struck silent. The grass in Mountain Herd’s southern grazing field was burned away, and the leaves had melted off the blackened tree limbs. Star had traveled here once as a foal, but not by choice. Frostfire and his warriors had snatched him from Feather Lake and carried him here to meet their over-stallion, Rockwing. The spotted silver stallion had offered to make a pact with Star, to save him from execution and rule Anok together, but Star had refused.
He remembered his first view of Valley Field. The grass had been dark green, unlike the lighter grass in Dawn Meadow. Butterflies, bees, and flies had glided busily beneath the disruptive hooves of the frolicking Mountain Herd foals. The steeds had been content on that hot spring morning, until they’d glimpsed the black foal of Anok dangling helplessly betw
een two of their stallions. Terror of him had sent them into a stampede, and Star had not understood then why the fierce herd was so afraid of him.
Now he was staring at that same meadow, except it had been scorched by Nightwing’s silver fire in what appeared a massive burst of rage. This was why the pegasi had feared Star, even when he was young—they’d worried he’d turn into a destroyer, like Nightwing, and do exactly this to them.
“What happened here?” Frostfire whispered, his body swaying.
Star’s blood raced when he saw all the downy feathers littering the black ash, but by the faded scents of pegasi, he was sure this had happened many, many days earlier. “I think some pegasi stood up to Nightwing here. Why else would he destroy them?” Star said, trying to answer Frostfire’s question.
Frostfire groaned, overcome by sorrow. He dropped and rolled in the ashes—absorbing his beloved herd into his white hide, staining it black.
Star stepped away from Frostfire, leaving him to his grief, and he nosed the feathers that had settled on the dust. They were the last connection to those who’d died. Star glanced back at the white stallion, thinking. Only Morningleaf knew that steeds killed by Nightwing’s fire were sent to the Beyond, a realm between life and the golden meadow, a place where their souls were trapped. Star turned away. He wouldn’t tell Frostfire about that. Right now, the stallion’s only solace was his belief that his dead herdmates were in the golden meadow. The way to free them was to defeat Nightwing, and that would be up to Star, not Frostfire.
“This herd . . . ,” said Frostfire in a strained voice, stumbling over his words. “I wasn’t born to them, but . . . but they were good to me.”
Star jerked his head toward the captain.
“It’s true that Rockwing was hard on me,” admitted Frostfire. “And I had to fight to earn respect in the army, but the rest of them . . . they didn’t deserve this.” He lay on his side, pressing the ashes deeper into his white coat. He snaked his dark-gray tail through the dust. “You can’t heal this, can you?”
Star exhaled. “I’m sorry, but no.”
“Can you . . . leave me for a bit?”
Star bowed his head and then galloped into the sky. He soared over Valley Field, searching for any clues that might indicate survivors, or where Nightwing had gone after quelling this uprising in Mountain Herd’s territory. Star swooped low when he reached the alpine forest, peering between the trees. Deer and foxes skittered out of his giant shadow, and birds flocked to their nests, silenced by the sight of his huge wings.
After a while another span of blackened grass caught Star’s eye. He dropped to the forest floor and pawed at it—more ashes. He lifted off and continued searching, discovering more spots of singed ground. Nightwing had been thorough, finding hiding pegasi and destroying them.
Star flew back to Frostfire, who was standing now. “There are no survivors here,” he said.
“I think you’re right,” said Frostfire, his eyes round and white rimmed. “What has Nightwing gained by doing this?”
Star’s anger ignited, and he arched his neck. “Don’t you see? He’s killing all rivals and rebels—anyone who won’t follow him. He wants to rule Anok, and it was only days ago that you were helping him. Have you forgotten that you formed the Black Army to hunt me down and take my head? Because I haven’t.” Star’s voice sizzled, low and quiet, like hot embers.
Frostfire took a step away from him, blinking rapidly as he stuttered for words. “I—I know what I did . . .” He trailed off.
Star advanced on him, swishing his tail. “And now that he’s turned on your friends, now you change your mind about him? Well, it’s too late.” Star swept his wing across Valley Field, and then he trotted away from Frostfire as his anger grew. He didn’t like it, this bitter wrath, and just looking at Frostfire’s guilty face inflamed him further. The white stallion wanted to stop what had been set in motion, now that he’d lost control of it. It was typical pegasus thinking—to leap without looking, to attack without considering all alternatives, and then to regret it—and it frustrated Star to his core.
Frostfire waited until Star’s breathing slowed, and then he spoke softly, his tone humble. “Only you can stop him, Star.”
“That’s probably true, but how? I have a shield, but so does he. I had a guardian herd, but they’re gone. I don’t know how to beat him.” Star turned, facing Frostfire, his sides heaving. “I will find Nightwing, but after that I’ve no idea what will happen.” He dropped his wings, letting them brush against the ashes, feeling better to say this truth out loud, to admit that he was stumped, that he was utterly helpless in the face of Nightwing.
Frostfire’s eyes glinted in the sun. “Maybe I can train you to fight,” said Frostfire. “I trained many steeds when I was lead captain of Mountain Herd’s army.”
Star snorted. “My herd already tried that, but no skill of hoof or tooth will defeat Nightwing.” A sharp image of Bumblewind’s jovial face came to mind. They’d trained together as warriors in the Trap, and fresh misery ripped at his heart. He missed his friends.
“You’re right, and I know that,” said Frostfire, “but they taught you how to be a warrior, not a defender.”
Star braced. “What’s the difference?”
“When I became a captain in Rockwing’s army, I noticed that there are two kinds of pegasi: those who thrive on destruction, and those who thrive on preventing destruction. You’re the latter.”
That sounded true to Star. “But how will that help me against Nightwing? He’s stronger, and we both have a shield.”
“Have you tried using your starfire on him?”
Star stared at the ashes under his hooves. “Yes, but nothing good comes from the silver fire,” he said, his throat tight. “I won’t use it, not ever again.”
Frostfire nodded. “Then what about the gold starfire?”
“It heals,” said Star. “It doesn’t destroy.”
“But maybe you can use it another way?”
“I don’t know,” said Star, “and neither do you.”
“Maybe not,” said Frostfire, peering at him. “But I was the highest-ranked captain in Mountain Herd’s army because I know how to win battles. And I doubt you’ll beat Nightwing if you attack him first. You must draw him into attacking you, to activate your defensive powers, like this new one, the shield.”
“That almost makes sense,” said Star.
“If you don’t try, you’ll never know.”
“Maybe.” Star paused. “But the sun is dropping fast. Now is the time to rest—tomorrow we’ll fly faster and longer, to cover more ground.”
The two pegasi glided to fresh grass on the outskirts of Valley Field. They grazed beneath the dim half-crescent moon, then Frostfire curled into a thicket and dropped into a deep sleep. Star stood over him, keeping him safe and wondering who, if anyone, was watching out for Morningleaf.
8
ESCAPE
MORNINGLEAF WATCHED THE WASTELANDS drift past her dangling hooves, trying to ignore the tingling pains shooting through her wings as she clutched the necks of Hazelwind and Redfire. Her friends had a plan to free her in the morning, but she would be gone before then.
It was dusk, and they were flying over steep canyons, still following the wide river that sometimes tunneled underground and then reappeared elsewhere. Redfire had called it an aquifer. Foliage was sparse in the surrounding limestone canyons, and rattlesnakes were plentiful. If her plan worked, Morningleaf didn’t think she’d last long traveling through the desert alone. Steeds like Redfire who hailed from the desert were immune to rattlesnake venom, and they knew how to find water. The river was Morningleaf’s only hope of survival if her plan succeeded.
Echofrost flew beside her, and Morningleaf watched the silver filly’s powerful wings, layered in shades of purple, flapping in perfect rhythm. She was glossy and proud and strong, nothing like the filly she’d been after her kidnapping moons ago. Mountain Herd yearlings had tortured her and Rockwing had
allowed the abuse. They’d ripped out chunks of her mane and tail and made a sport of kicking and teasing her. When Echofrost had finally been returned to Sun Herd, it was like half of her had died. Their medicine mare, Sweetroot, had fed Echofrost mashed-up roots each day to calm her nerves.
Only recently had the silver filly forgiven her captors, and in doing so, she no longer needed the calming plants. But Morningleaf wanted revenge on Nightwing, and she didn’t like how this desire blackened her heart. Perhaps Echofrost could help her. “How did you stop hating the ones who hurt you?” she asked her friend.
Echofrost peered at Morningleaf and exhaled slowly. “It’s not something you do, Morningleaf, it’s something you let go.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure how,” she nickered. “One day, it’s just easier not to hate.”
“I hope so.” Morningleaf looked ahead at Nightwing, who led the herd. There were no pegasi left in Anok who were free, except Star, and maybe Frostfire. No one had seen the white captain since Star won the battle against his Black Army; it was possible he was dead. Larksong, the mare he’d traveled with, was captured, flying nearby, but she remained silent, speaking to no one.
Morningleaf glanced at the moon, which was a thin crescent between the dark and drifting clouds. Rain drizzled from the sky, beading on her muzzle and making it sparkle. The evening air was cool enough that Morningleaf’s breath trailed behind her in twin wisps of steam. Nightwing would land them soon. Far in the distance was a huge expanse of flat, hard mesa, large enough to fit all of them, and he was angling the herd in that direction. She was almost out of time.
Morningleaf took a breath, wishing it were just a bit darker. Echofrost’s plan to cause a distraction while Hazelwind whisked her away was brave, but foolish. Nightwing would spot the ruse, and he would hunt her down. There was only one way to ensure that he didn’t. She had to die, or at least appear to die.
The Guardian Herd Page 4
