The Ice Warriors startled and jostled one another. “Hold,” Stormtail cried.
Darkness flooded Star’s mind and crushed his desire to heal his enemies. A terrible but intoxicating thought raced through his brain—he could kill them all. . . .
Star reared, shaking his head. No! He’d promised himself never to use the silver fire again, and he wouldn’t, but he had to do something.
The Ice Warriors took a step back, fearful of the sparks. They glanced at Petalcloud, and Star followed their gaze. She tossed her mane, and he saw that she’d squashed her fear of him.
Petalcloud flew free of her attackers and landed in front of Star. More of her warriors surrounded her and him, cutting off his friends. Petalcloud kept her black eyes trained on his, taunting him. “It’s not too late to save yourself.” Her voice tumbled from the depths of her throat like a bubbling creek. She lowered her long lashes and swished her tail, blowing her scent his way.
Star’s nostrils flared, catching the musk of her, and he arched his neck in angry response.
“Leave Anok,” Petalcloud nickered. “And never come back. You were born dead. Did you know that? You don’t belong here.”
Loathing for Petalcloud struck his heart. Yes, he knew he’d been born dead. His mother had forced life into him by shoving on his chest, cleaning his nose, and then biting his ear—hard. She’d died right after, and Silverlake had sworn to protect him. Maybe Star wasn’t supposed to survive, but he had, and it was because of his guardians. He would not abandon them.
“Go,” she said.
“Never,” Star answered.
Her soft eyes hardened, and her flirtatious expression cooled. “Break him into a thousand pieces,” she nickered.
“But the starfire?” whispered one of her captains.
She lifted her neck, and disgust curled her lips. “He won’t use it.”
Star glared at her, angry because she was right. He would not dive into the blackness of the silver fire that ate his soul. The plain truth was that he couldn’t stop her stallions from tearing him apart if they wished. It would be up to his friends to save him.
Hazelwind trumpeted, calling his army to resume their attack, and chaos erupted as they battled Petalcloud’s warriors for Star’s life.
Her stallions surged on Star, biting and kicking him. He spun in circles, shielding himself as best he could, but he was soon overwhelmed with pain. In seconds they felled him, and Star smacked onto the pine needles that covered the ground. Redfire’s words blared through his mind. To fall is to die. A pale-gray stallion seized Star’s wing and bent it until Star screamed. The Ice Warriors surrounded him.
The United Army slammed into the circle of Ice Warriors over and over, but the enemy steeds mounted an incredible defense—gathering like oxen with the largest steeds on the exterior of the circle and then rows and rows of lesser steeds behind them, and Star lay in the center, suffering kicks and blows from seasoned warriors.
Through the throng of legs, Star watched his friends battle with every ounce of their strength, sweat flowing down their chests and froth foaming from their mouths.
He covered his head with his wings as his enemies attacked him, their eyes full of hatred. His body was one massive inferno of pain.
The circle parted to allow Stormtail, Petalcloud’s gigantic guard, to enter. He pranced, alarmingly light on his hooves, with his long black mane sweeping the ground, and Star cringed. This was the stallion who would execute him. And this time there was no one to save him. The stallion reared over Star’s head, his hooves black and sharp and curling through the air as they descended toward him. A hush fell over the Trap.
Star’s heart raced forward, pushing blood and starfire through his muscles. Instinct gripped him, and Star panted hard and fast, drawing on his healing power. Golden tendrils of starfire crackled across his hide.
The enemy stallion’s hooves dropped like rocks. Star couldn’t dodge the coming blow, and so he faced it, watching the sharpened hooves descend toward him. Time slowed, and his golden fire sizzled through him.
The gray beast clenched his jaw and struck.
42
SURVIVAL
FEAR ERASED STAR’S THOUGHTS. HE OPENED HIS mouth and roared, projecting his golden starfire in every direction. It sprung from his core and formed a perfect sphere around him, like a bubble. The big stallion’s hooves collided with the shimmering orb and bounced off it, leaving Star unharmed.
He gasped. He’d sprung a shield! Nightwing had a shield, and he’d used it to protect himself from Star in the Sun Herd lands. Now Star had a shield too.
The Ice Warriors surged forward, pummeling the golden sphere, but they couldn’t penetrate it. Star watched them as though they were a million winglengths away, or in a dream.
Inside the orb he had plenty of air. When he moved, the sphere moved with him. He spread his wings, and the sphere stretched to accommodate him.
Petalcloud flew over her army. “Stop,” she bellowed. “Get away from him.”
Her cold eyes burned hot as she landed in front of Star. “You’re going to regret this,” she hissed.
Star snorted. “I don’t think so.”
Petalcloud extended a violet wingtip and touched the sphere, then jerked away as though it had burned her. She flattened her ears, furious. “This isn’t over, Star. It’s just beginning.” She pointed at him through the shield. “You woke the Destroyer when you took your power. You should have let your over-stallion kill you as he planned. You disobeyed your guardian herd, and you brought a darkness to Anok that will never leave.”
Star gasped and glanced at Hazelwind. The buckskin stallion was breathing hard. He shook his head, letting Star know that he didn’t agree with Petalcloud.
Petalcloud leaned toward Star, pressing her face against the golden orb. “You think you’re different, black foal, but you’re not. You’ve been fighting to survive since the day you were born—just like us.” She scanned the pegasi surrounding them. The Trap was silent as everyone listened, hooked on her every word. Petalcloud lashed her tail and stared into his eyes. “When Anok is in flames and the pegasi are enslaved by Nightwing, it will be your fault and yours alone. Don’t forget that, and don’t blame me for choosing him over you.” She lifted her head, facing the United Army but pointing at Star. “Nightwing is strong, and Star is weak. You’ve all made a huge mistake.”
Star pinned his ears and spoke so everyone could hear him, but he kept his gaze on Petalcloud. “We should be fighting Nightwing together. You chose the wrong side.” He stepped closer to her, keeping his shield intact.
Petalcloud ruffled her sparkling violet feathers and raised her voice. “I’ll give the United Army one chance, and one chance only, to join me and follow Nightwing.” She leaned into Star and whispered. “You offered to help my herd once, now I’m offering to help yours.” She looked around her. “If any of you accept, follow me now.”
Her invitation drifted through the Trap, over the heads of Star’s friends, and their ears swiveled as they understood her words.
Petalcloud whirled around and trotted back toward Antler Lake. Stormtail took his position at her right flank, and the rest of her army retreated with her, throwing angry glares at Star.
Star waited.
The United Army held strong. None of the warriors followed her.
He sucked in his starfire and extinguished his shield.
“Petalcloud is wrong,” said Hazelwind. “Maybe you did awaken Nightwing, but he’d never truly left Anok. Fear of his return has lived in the hearts of pegasi for four hundred years. It’s kept us suspicious and angry—not just of him, but of one another. It’s been like a poison, slowly destroying us.”
Star dropped his head, suddenly tired.
“I’m with you, Starwing,” Hazelwind said.
“As am I,” said Clawfire.
“And I,” said Morningleaf, emerging from the evergreens with Shadepebble.
“We all are,” Brackentail agreed.<
br />
Star swayed. He wasn’t tired—he was badly injured. His head throbbed, and pain shot through his muscles like fire. Morningleaf darted to his side. “Give him some space,” she whinnied.
Star closed his eyes, resting for a long moment. His friends settled, also resting. Sweetroot, Silverlake, and Birchcloud took stock of the wounded pegasi.
Star wanted to sleep, but around him steeds were dying. He opened his eyes and swirled his starfire through his body, healing his cuts, bruises, and broken bones. When he was finished, he stood and healed the fallen warriors on the battlefield, starting with Bumblewind, who’d been knocked out.
His pinto friend opened his eyes. “What happened?” Bumblewind asked, shaking his head as if bothered by flies. Amused nickering rose from the steeds, and a river of tension flowed out of the United Army.
Morningleaf nuzzled Star. “I leave you for one second,” she said, teasing him and wiping his forelock out of his eyes.
“I learned how to use my shield.”
“That’s good, because this isn’t over. The armies failed, but I doubt Nightwing will give up.”
“He might,” said Star. “He can’t hurt me now that I have a shield too.”
“Do you think it’ll be that easy?”
Star stared at the blood that muddied the soil. “I wouldn’t call any of this easy.”
After resting a bit longer, the United Army traveled back to the twin pines, where Star healed the remaining warriors who’d been pulled to safety earlier. The forest was cold and dark, but oddly cheerful. The pegasi had survived Frostfire’s attack, befriended the Black Army, and survived Petalcloud’s Ice Warriors.
Sweetroot wrung her feathers together, looking lost but pleased. She’d prepared wingloads of chewed herbs, calming roots, and sticky poultices, and they were stacked against the trees, unused. Star had healed everyone.
“Is there any food left over from the feast?” Bumblewind asked her. “I’m starving.”
“Yes, back at the River Herd camp,” she neighed.
Dewberry nuzzled him. “Everything makes you hungry.”
Hazelwind trumpeted the call of victory, summoning Sunray, the scouts, and any stray warriors still in the Trap. They trotted back to River Herd’s camp.
Sweetroot and the nursing mares passed out tree nuts, soft bark, and fireweed. Some of the smaller steeds raided birds’ nests for late-season eggs. The United Army rested and ate, speaking about everything except war.
Morningleaf cracked nuts, and Star inspected them for worms. “What are we going to do now?” she asked.
Star exhaled, feeling serene. “I don’t know, but I feel better, safer. I’m going to practice with the golden fire. Maybe I can do more than project a shield.”
Morningleaf paused, swiveling her ears. “Did you hear that?”
Star dropped his wingful of nuts and listened. From deep in the woods came a strangled sound, and then a loud moan.
Hazelwind and his warriors leaped to their hooves.
The moaning came again, louder. It sounded like an injured pegasus.
Star flicked his ears forward. “Someone is still out there,” he whinnied.
“Who?” brayed Hazelwind.
The groaning quieted.
“I must have missed a warrior,” said Star. “I’ll go get him.”
Morningleaf flinched. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, eat and rest; I’ll be right back. I have the shield, remember. No one can hurt me now.”
Morningleaf relaxed her wings, and Hazelwind called off his warriors.
Star left camp and trotted into the woods.
43
CRY OF THE WOLF
THE CRUNCHING OF PINE NEEDLES WAS THE ONLY sound Star heard as he trotted toward the soft groans in the forest. “Hello?” he neighed.
The groaning ceased.
Star pricked his ears, approaching the area where he’d last heard the sound. He halted. “Hello?” he repeated.
There was no answer. To be safe, Star projected the golden shield. It blew out of him like a bubble and then closed around him, flexing as he moved. He trotted farther away from the River Herd camp where the entire United Army had gathered, feeling curious but safe inside his golden shell.
In the brush he glimpsed pairs of eyes glowing in the dim light, watching him, but they were too small to be pegasi. They were attached to shapes that dashed behind the bushes—wolves. Star’s hide prickled, but he wasn’t afraid of wolves, not with his shield around him. They shadowed him, keeping their distance.
Star remembered the time he and Silverlake had searched the Ice Lands during a storm. He’d created light with his starfire to pierce the whiteout; he could use it now to illuminate the darkness. He opened his mouth and projected his starfire in a wide beam. The light glowed past the shield and lit his way. The wolves startled, one yelping with surprise, and they bolted away from him. Star was pleased at that, and then he heard it again, the moaning of a pegasus in great pain.
Star trotted forward and soon discovered the source of the groaning—it was the buckskin mare Larksong, the sky herder who traveled with Frostfire. He’d met her in the north, and he remembered her as a feisty mare, always asking questions. Now here she was, crumpled in the ferns, bleeding heavily from her nose. Her breaths were shallow, and Star could see that her ribs were broken, but he guessed most of the damage to her body was internal. It appeared she’d been beaten and left to die. She lifted her head, gazed at him, and then dropped it back onto the foliage.
Larksong was his enemy, but Star wanted to help her. “I can heal you,” he said, lowering his head.
Her eyes, mere slits, glinted with suspicion.
“I won’t hurt you,” Star added.
Her wings twitched as though she wanted to fly away.
“You’re dying,” Star told her.
“I know,” she said, gasping. “I don’t care about me. . . .”
Star was confused until he saw that her wings were holding tight to her belly. He’d seen pregnant mares do the same thing, but Larksong’s belly was small.
“You’re with foal?”
She nodded.
“I can save both your lives, but I won’t do it unless you ask me to.” Star thought it would be wrong to force his power on her.
Larksong grunted and tried to stand, but her eyelids fluttered, and she fell back onto her side.
“You don’t have to join my herd,” Star promised. “I’ll let you go as soon as I’m finished healing you.”
Her eyes snapped to his. Star nodded to reassure her. “But if you want to join my herd, I’ll accept you. It’s your choice, Larksong.”
She blinked rapidly, looking confused.
Star waited, watching the mare’s labored breath rise from her nostrils in twin bursts of mist. Finally Larksong nodded. “Yes. Help me,” she said.
Not wanting to scare her further, Star exhaled gently, warming her first with the golden light, comforting her. She tensed but soon relaxed. Star stepped closer to her and blew starfire all around her, steadily increasing it until she was floating at the height of his shoulders. She scrambled a bit, but then stopped fighting and let the light suspend her.
Star watched her broken ribs straighten and her battle wounds close. When he felt the strong heartbeat of the foal in her belly, he let Larksong down and then extinguished the starfire.
Larksong swayed on her hooves and blinked her eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. She wrapped her wings around herself and sobbed in a sudden spurt of tears and choking breaths. She looked up into Star’s eyes; hers were soft and glowing. “I—I . . .”
Star nickered. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Larksong wiped her eyes. “No. You don’t understand.” She glanced around her, as though someone were near. “I’m sorry,” she rasped.
Star flared his wings. “For what?”
“Run,” she urged. “Run back to your herd before it’s too late.” She tossed he
r mane, anguished. “Petalcloud did this to me. She beat me and left me here, to lure you away from your friends.”
Star inhaled so sharply he choked on his breath.
“Run!” she whinnied.
He turned and fled; galloping through the woods back to where he’d left his herd. Ahead he saw a flash of silver light, and he heard the sound of an explosion, like lightning striking a thousand trees at once.
No, no, no!
Star charged, blinded by fear, fueled by terror. What had he done? He’d left his friends alone.
Star blasted through the trees and into the River Herd camp. It was empty—no one was there. The air swirled with feathers and dust. Star’s heart pounded, and his breaths came in rapid bursts. He trumpeted the call of an over-stallion to his missing herd, his voice reverberating for miles. When the echoes died away, he froze and listened.
There was no response.
A gust of wind shot through the trees, kicking up the thick dust that drifted through the air. It choked Star. He drew on his golden fire, ejecting it in a wide bright beam, and he illuminated the area where his friends had been standing not long ago. The light filtered through the particles that irritated Star’s eyes and throat. Where had all this black dust come from?
He trumpeted for his herd again, his cry ringing through the trees. He dropped his head, sniffing for his friends. He picked up a familiar scent, and it reminded him of the forest fire he’d experienced as a weanling. Star’s mouth filled with the small flakes, and he halted to spit them out. They tasted like dirt. He froze and threw up his head. This wasn’t dust—it was ashes!
Star reared, trumpeting again, but the sound came out more like the cry of a bleating foal than that of a stallion. He dropped and snuffled through the dirt, searching for clues. He caught whiffs of acrid blood, the clean dry fragrance of feathers, and the charred scent of wood . . . and flesh. Star’s back legs gave out, and he sat on his haunches, realizing what had happened. The ash was the burned bodies of pegasi.
The Guardian Herd: Landfall Page 19
