“Come on, black foal, what do you have for me?” Nightwing asked, taunting him.
Star flew beneath Nightwing and attempted to grab the stallion’s legs, but Nightwing projected his shield immediately, and Star’s teeth knocked against the silver orb that protected the stallion. It looked like a bubble but was as hard as a rock.
Nightwing nickered, amused, and then attacked with new fury, retracting the shield so he could pummel Star with fiery explosions.
Star’s black hide smoldered, and his bones splintered. He glanced at Morningleaf far below. She looked so small, so scared. He gathered the cold starfire, and his mood blackened like a storm.
Star wanted to land in the field, to regroup, but at least two of his legs were broken and so he hovered and took short, fast breaths, drawing the silver fire into his throat. Perhaps he could scorch the Destroyer while his shield was down. Star circled Nightwing, and the four-hundred-year-old black stallion faced him, unprotected by the silver orb.
Star blasted Nightwing in the face, but Nightwing deflected the fire with his own. Over the heads of the watching pegasi, silver clashed against silver, and sparks showered the grass. More fires erupted on the ground, and more pegasi spooked into the smoke-filled sky and flew away.
Star took a breath, and Nightwing launched his starfire so hard and so fast it hit Star square in the chest and tossed him past the clouds toward where the blue sky turned black. Star screamed as the pain blazed up and down his spine and the planet shrank beneath his hooves. The high, cold winds buffeted his face, freezing his lips. Star tucked his tail and shook his head, but his wings stuttered, giving out on him.
Below, Morningleaf’s desperate scream rattled like it was being ripped from her throat. “You’re killing him!”
Star’s chest heaved. His smoldering tail was broken, and his mane had caught fire. He struggled in the wet clouds as he fell back toward land, gnashing his teeth. Nightwing flew up to meet him, and they traded shots, blast for blast, but each time Star thought his starfire would reach Nightwing, the ancient stallion threw up his shield, blocking it.
Nightwing whinnied. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You can’t hurt me, black foal.”
Star choked on the smoke that filled the air. Nightwing hurled another fireball at Star, breaking another leg. Desperate, Star trumpeted a plea to the Ancestors for help.
It was a slaughter, not a fight. Star glided below the clouds now and noticed more steeds slipping away from both herds. Nightwing noticed them too and became distracted. Star lunged at him, exhaling a massive burst of fire; he hurled it straight at the stallion’s head while he was looking away.
But Nightwing sensed it coming. He whipped his head around, his mane flowing in a black arc, and he sprang his shield. The starfire encompassed the sphere and then seconds later it flamed out. Nightwing remained untouched.
Star reeled. He needed the golden fire to heal his wounds. He tried to shake off the darkness that gripped his soul, to reach the warm embers that would save him, but they were out of reach.
Tired of the battle, Nightwing sighed. “Fly straight and find your rest, Star.” He drew up a colossal silver flame and shot it in a thin, destructive beam.
Star flailed, trying to dodge it, but Nightwing flew toward him, redirecting the beam as Star ducked and twirled. Nightwing galloped across the sky, his silver fire sparking, his power electrifying the atmosphere around him. But still Star refused to flee. He met his enemy head-on. He had to beat Nightwing. Every steed in Anok was counting on it. And then Nightwing’s starfire found its mark, and the ancient black stallion’s eyes glowed with victory as his silver beam of light pierced Star’s chest and then sizzled into his heart.
Star’s wings went slack and he fell, upside down, toward the field, the wind whipping his feathers. He blinked at the black smoke drifting across the beautiful, stormy sky. His broken body felt no pain. He might as well have been floating. He plummeted toward the field, picking up speed, his wings useless.
Star didn’t see the ground coming, but he felt it when he struck the grass. Star recognized the shrill whinny of Morningleaf, and his heart filled with sorrow.
Driven by terror, the remaining steeds of Anok, save his closest companions, stampeded into the sky. Star watched them scatter like frightened birds. And then he felt the hot, familiar breath of his best friend on his muzzle and her tears dropping onto his cheeks. “Don’t leave me, Star,” Morningleaf nickered, her voice wavering.
Star opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn’t form words or starfire or draw breath. He wished he could unwind the planet, spin it backward to another day. He wanted to play chase with his friends one more time, or fly through the clouds, or nap in the sun. He wanted to tell Morningleaf he was sorry he’d failed her. In agony, Star experienced the excruciating weight of things unfinished. As Morningleaf cried over him, shedding her aqua feathers, one of them drifted over his head and he watched it, transfixed, noticing that his body felt as weightless as the feather.
I can’t let it end this way, he thought.
As the triumphant cry of Nightwing echoed throughout the vast, empty plain, Star’s smoldering heart thumped weakly, desperately, and then his mind slid, helpless and unwilling, into darkness.
3
THE WEANLING ARMY
MORNINGLEAF SWEPT HER WINGS OVER STAR’S body. “No, no,” she cried, her lips quivering. Nightwing landed in the distance and stamped the soil, causing more flames to erupt and feed the existing fires that would soon reach the woods. She stood and whirled, facing Nightwing, her voice rasping. “Look what you’ve done!” Tears filled her eyes, and her view of him blurred.
He blinked at her. “I’ve seen you before. . . .”
She wiped her eyes and advanced on him. “Star was good and brave. He’s everything you’re not!” Morningleaf’s heart felt like it had been sliced in half. First Nightwing had killed her sire, Thundersky, and then he’d attacked Star and maybe killed him too. He’d destroyed everything. Dusk had fallen, and she stared up at the sky and bleated her sorrow into the clouds. Nightwing watched her with his head cocked, looking smug and enraging her further. “Ancestors, help me!” she whinnied, locking her gaze on the Destroyer.
Morningleaf’s mother, Silverlake, reared, guessing her filly’s intentions. “Don’t do it, Morningleaf!”
Morningleaf charged Nightwing, her head low and teeth exposed.
Echofrost and the new River Herd yearling, Shadepebble, galloped across the meadow to stop her.
Morningleaf knew she should stop, but Star lay on the ground in a heap, his body broken. Her throat squeezed shut; her heart hardened into an aching ball. She focused on Nightwing.
“Look!” whinnied Echofrost. She and Shadepebble dug in their hooves and slid to a halt.
Morningleaf was ten wing lengths away from striking the Destroyer, but she glanced upward because of the strange tone in Echofrost’s voice—a mixture of awe and wonder.
Above them the bright lights that migrated across the sky of the north descended—the Ancestors. Morningleaf’s jaw dropped and she halted, staring. The colorful lights swirled through the clouds, the white mist reflecting all the colors. The pegasi who’d fled into the woods returned, chased out by the flames, and they paused, stunned. Nightwing watched the lights too, his amused expression gone.
The Ancestors swarmed the meadow and took the shape of living pegasi. Their hides glowed with a reflective sheen, and their feathers glittered, each one refracting light, creating prisms of color that surrounded their bodies. Around the meadow, pegasi lowered their heads, their tails swishing nervously. Morningleaf bowed her head too, but noticed something unusual. These visiting Ancestors were weanlings—all of them, which meant they’d died as weanlings and had never grown up. There were at least a thousand of them.
A spotted bay filly took the lead, and the weanlings lined up behind her in battle formation. They surrounded Star’s body in a defensive spiral. The spotted filly raised her wings,
and all murmuring from the watching pegasi ceased. She stepped away from her army and floated across the smoking grass, landing near Nightwing. “I knew you’d return to Anok,” the spirit filly said to him.
He stared at her with rounded eyes.
Morningleaf glanced at Echofrost, who had sidled next to her. “Did you hear her speak?”
Echofrost nodded, her eyes bulging.
“I hear them too,” said Shadepebble.
Nightwing flared his nostrils, showing the deep-red color inside. “Hollyblaze?”
The filly buzzed her wings, and rapid bursts of gold and emerald light erupted from her feathers. “Don’t say my name.”
Morningleaf exhaled, whispering to Echofrost and Shadepebble. “Hollyblaze is an ancient filly. She was Nightwing’s best friend four hundred years ago—they were raised together.”
“What happened to her?” asked Echofrost.
“She was murdered. The legends say Nightwing caused her death.”
Nightwing stared at Hollyblaze with longing and disbelief. A single tear formed in his eye and rolled down his cheek. When it hit the ground, a black flower sprang from the soil.
“Don’t cry for me,” the filly spat at him. “Go. Leave Anok. Let my brother’s descendants live in peace.”
“Who is her brother?” asked Shadepebble.
“Spiderwing, the founder of the five herds, the most beloved stallion of all time.”
“Oh, I didn’t know he had a sister.”
“She died so young, she’s rarely remembered in the stories,” whispered Morningleaf. The legends she’d heard from the elders surfaced in her mind, but a lot about Hollyblaze was unknown, like how she died and why Nightwing had spared her brother’s life.
Nightwing pricked his ears, responding to Hollyblaze. “But the pegasi don’t live in peace; they’re always at war.” His rumbling voice shook the filly’s transparent body, making it glimmer.
“You’re still a coward,” neighed Hollyblaze. She glanced behind her. “Charge!”
She and her weanling army rattled their feathers and marched toward Nightwing. He backed away from them. Lightning crackled across the sky, but there was no storm, and the rain had ceased. Hollyblaze flared her wings, sending bright light into Nightwing’s eyes. “Destroyer. Killer. Coward,” she cried, and her army chanted with her.
Nightwing cringed, ducking behind his wings.
The remaining pegasi fled, this time for good, leaving Morningleaf alone with her friends. The weanling Ancestors marched toward Nightwing, flinging blinding lights into his eyes and chanting. “Destroyer. Killer. Coward.” The lightning dropped from the clouds and struck the land near his hooves.
Nightwing blasted them with silver starfire, but it passed through them without causing harm or slowing them down.
Morningleaf and her friends galloped to the rear of the weanling army to avoid being blinded by the sharp lights. The Destroyer backed away from them, snorting, the whites of his eyes flashing. “Leave me alone!” He hurled starfire at them and staggered when he stepped on his own tail.
“He’s afraid of them,” said Shadepebble. “Why?”
Morningleaf thought she understood. “Because he can’t hurt them and because they know what he did. They’re haunting him. No wonder he slept so long.”
Shadepebble shook her head, overwhelmed by the thousand dead weanlings who quivered with rage as they faced Nightwing. “That’s horrible.”
“It’s good for us,” said Morningleaf. “Come on.” She galloped to Silverlake and Hazelwind. “This is our chance to get Star out of here.”
“Morningleaf, he’s . . .” Silverlake struggled to finish her sentence.
Morningleaf stamped her hoof, refusing to believe Star was dead. “I won’t leave him, and we have to go now, while Nightwing is distracted. This isn’t over.” Hope and anguish blazed in her expression.
Silverlake nodded reluctantly. “All right, let’s move him.”
4
SLEEP
MORNINGLEAF’S OLDER BROTHER, HAZELWIND, and her friend Bumblewind each gripped one of Star’s wings in their teeth and lifted him. “He’s heavy,” said Hazelwind through a mouthful of Star’s feathers. Morningleaf’s brother was injured and bleeding, but his sharp eyes glinted with energy.
“I’ll get his tail,” offered Clawfire. Morningleaf exhaled, grateful for the big Snow Herd captain who’d joined River Herd after being banished from his own herd. He’d inadvertently stolen Rockwing’s filly in a raid on Mountain Herd. That filly was Shadepebble, and when Clawfire returned to Snow Herd with her, the leaders had banished them both to avoid a war with the filly’s sire. But Clawfire had befriended Shadepebble, and the pair had joined River Herd together. They’d both become Morningleaf’s good friends.
“Thank you, Clawfire,” Morningleaf said. His added strength enabled them to lift Star off the ground. “Fly low, and be careful with him,” Morningleaf said, grimacing at the sight of Star’s limp body.
“Where to?” asked Shadepebble.
Morningleaf glanced at the weanling army; they were driving Nightwing east, away from Star. “Let’s fly west.”
The group hovered over the grass and darted forward, flying toward the ocean. As they disappeared over the foothills, Morningleaf looked back and saw that Nightwing had turned from the weanling army and fled. The army’s leader, Hollyblaze, lifted her eyes and seemed to look toward Morningleaf, who dipped her head to the ancient filly, a gesture of respect and thanks. The filly dipped her head too.
Morningleaf’s broken heart thumped hard. The Ancestors had protected Star from Nightwing. She was encouraged but saddened too. What peace was there in the golden meadow if the dead were still haunting, and haunted by, their enemy? She flattened her ears; Nightwing needed to be destroyed—for everyone’s sake.
Morningleaf flew with her friends for many hours. She sobbed freely, letting her tears soak the soil until she arrived at the coast and soared over the cliffs.
“There’s the cave where I hid Star when he was a weanling,” said Silverlake.
Morningleaf saw the dark maw carved into the cliff. Her dam had hid Star there so that he wouldn’t be executed before he received his power on his first birthday. Silverlake had lost her position as lead mare of Sun Herd and was banished for hiding Star, but it had saved his life. And Morningleaf knew Star had hated living alone, which was unnatural for a pegasus. He’d survived by eating sea kelp and befriending a lazy bird, a seagull that he’d named Crabwing. She exhaled, long and slow. His stories about Crabwing were some of her favorites, and now, looking at Star’s beaten body dangling between the three stallions, she dissolved into fresh sobs.
The group landed on the beach. Hazelwind, Clawfire, and Bumblewind laid Star gently on the sand. Bumblewind brushed Star’s forelock out of his eyes, which were closed.
Silverlake trotted to Morningleaf and nudged her away from the others. “Now is not the time for tears,” she said quietly. “Wipe your eyes and tuck your wings.”
Morningleaf sucked in her breath, but her dam was right. Now was not the time to break down, and Morningleaf had to remember that Silverlake, Hazelwind, and Shadepebble were grieving too. Besides murdering Thundersky, Nightwing had also killed Shadepebble’s sire, Rockwing. Morningleaf wiped her tears.
“That’s better,” said Silverlake, and Morningleaf noticed that her mother had aged into an old mare in the span of a day. “Why don’t we bury Star here,” Silverlake suggested.
“What?” Morningleaf sputtered. “Bury him? No!”
Silverlake stared at her. “Why not?”
“He’s . . . he can’t be . . . gone. We need to get him to Sweetroot.” Sweetroot was their medicine mare, and she was hiding in the Trap, the thick northern forest at the base of the Hoofbeat Mountains. It’s where Star had asked the herds to hide after he became aware that Nightwing was returning to Anok. Snow Herd had refused him, but many steeds from the other herds had come and were hiding there, and with them was Sw
eetroot.
Silverlake trotted to Star and nosed his chest, then licked his ears, gentle and loving, like he was a newborn. “Nightwing stopped his heart, Morningleaf.”
The others watched Morningleaf, their agonies flickering in the depths of their eyes, and she felt their pity for her. “Look,” she said to them, imploring. “Star’s magical. He has healing power, and he’s immortal. We can’t give up on him.”
Bumblewind glanced at Star, who was his best friend, his expression forlorn. She could guess what he was thinking, that Star didn’t look immortal, not right now.
“He won’t die of old age, Morningleaf, but he can be killed,” Hazelwind reminded her softly.
“Yes, but we don’t know for sure if he’s dead. We need Sweetroot to examine him. I won’t bury him until she says.”
Hazelwind glanced at the western horizon. The setting sun streaked pink rays across the ocean. “No one knows where we are. Let’s rest awhile. Tomorrow at sundown we’ll head northeast to the Trap, to the hiding herds and to Sweetroot. She can examine him there. Agreed?”
Morningleaf and Bumblewind lashed their tails. “We can’t wait until tomorrow,” they said in unison.
“Well, we can’t travel in daylight; it’s too risky,” said Hazelwind. “Nightwing could be anywhere. We have to wait until tomorrow after dark, to give Star his best chance.”
“It’s almost dark now. Let’s go tonight,” urged Morningleaf.
Hazelwind stared at her, his cuts from the battle with Nightwing still dripping blood, and her ears grew hot with shame as she realized what Hazelwind was unwilling to admit. He needed rest. He couldn’t carry Star another mile. “You’re right,” she said quickly. “It’s best to go at sundown tomorrow.”
Hazelwind nuzzled her. “Thank you.”
The group drifted apart, each steed lost in exhaustion or grief or both.
Morningleaf and her brother trotted to the edge of the sea and let the gentle breakers splash against their hooves. Morningleaf’s breath hitched, and she fought back more tears, thinking of Thundersky, the mighty sire they’d lost.
The Guardian Herd: Landfall Page 2
