The Guardian Herd: Stormbound

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  Then Frostfire raised his voice and spoke over his shoulder. “We’ll stop at Mountain Herd’s northern border. One of my stallions will escort Shadepebble the rest of the way home.”

  The little dappled filly, Shadepebble, broke the V formation and sidled next to Morningleaf. “Want some company?”

  Morningleaf brightened. “Sure.” She glanced at Shadepebble’s little wing, which had to flap so much faster than her longer one. “Do you want to draft off me?” Morningleaf asked.

  Shadepebble gasped, looking offended, but quickly shook it off. “I can manage.”

  Morningleaf bit her lip. “I’m sorry.” She liked Shadepebble and wanted to stay friends with her. “I was just trying to help, make it easier for you.”

  Shadepebble relaxed. “It’s okay; I probably should draft, but I’d rather talk.”

  Morningleaf nickered. “Me too.”

  The two fillies flew in awkward silence—both strangers, but connected now on their journey. Shadepebble spoke first. “The black foal is your milk brother, right? You two nursed together?”

  Surprise flickered through Morningleaf. She’d never thought of Star in those terms. “Yes, we did.”

  “I remember when he was born,” Shadepebble continued. “A messenger came from your herd to tell us the black foal had survived and was nursing off a surrogate mother. That was Silvercloud, right?”

  Morningleaf was curious to hear the story retold by a foreign steed. “It was, and she’s Silverlake now. She forced my birth early so she’d have milk for Star.”

  “That was risky,” said Shadepebble.

  Morningleaf nodded, and dipped under a wispy cloud so she wouldn’t get wet. “Yes, but it was worth it, and I was born healthy.”

  “What was it like to grow up with him?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” said Morningleaf with a sharp glance at Brackentail, who flew just ahead of them. “The herd was afraid of him.”

  “We used to pretend he was born to our herd,” said Shadepebble.

  “You did?” Morningleaf was astonished.

  “Yes. I always played Star because I couldn’t fly either, not at first.”

  “What was the game?” asked Morningleaf.

  Shadepebble blinked, thinking. “Well, it was always a little different. I chased the other foals and they ran from me, pretending to be afraid. Anyone I caught was out of the game. Then we’d pretend it was my birthday and . . .” Shadepebble’s voice faded.

  “What?” pressed Morningleaf.

  “It was a horrible game. Never mind.” Shadepebble stared straight ahead. “We were just weanlings.”

  Morningleaf sighed. She could guess how the rest of the game went—they pretended to execute Star.

  They coasted across a cluster of foothills and then dropped to an altitude where it was less windy. Shadepebble broke the silence. “Did Star choose to be the healer, or did the Hundred Year Star choose?”

  Morningleaf hesitated, remembering the day Star healed Brackentail. He’d been overcome by anger, and she’d feared he would kill the colt. She believed Star was both healer and destroyer, but Morningleaf would not admit that out loud. Silverlake had told her before Star ever received his power that Morningleaf’s purpose was to remind Star of who he was, and who he could be. Star could never know she’d doubted him, even for a second. It would break his heart. She answered simply. “He chose.”

  “So that means Nightwing chose to be bad,” Shadepebble surmised in a whisper.

  Morningleaf considered her point. “I suppose he did.”

  The fillies glided through the developing afternoon fog, absorbed by their thoughts.

  Shivering and wet, Frostfire called the order to land. Morningleaf angled her wings and dropped out of the mist. She was delighted to see dark-green grass. They were out of the Ice Lands, and only patches of dirty snow remained. She landed and shook the dew off her feathers. It was windy, and within seconds she was shivering. “I wish Star were here,” she said. Her flaxen mane was stuck flat on either side of her neck, drenched. “He could warm us.”

  Shadepebble nickered between clenched teeth. “That would be nice.”

  Frostfire interrupted them. “We’ll sleep here tonight.” The terrain was flat, and the pegasi could see for miles in each direction. Several trees dotted the grassy field, but not enough to obscure their view. Predators would not be able to approach them unseen, and the green grass was sweet. Morningleaf agreed it was a good place to rest.

  Since there were no trees to block the wind, the pegasi huddled in small groups. Brackentail joined Morningleaf and Shadepebble.

  “I miss my mother,” confessed the Mountain Herd filly. “I didn’t realize it while I was gone, but now that I’m close to home, I can’t wait to see her.”

  Morningleaf nodded, overcome by her own loneliness. Only Brackentail was familiar to her. She barely knew Iceriver and the other three River Herd stallions, but she’d grown up with Brackentail. In a moment of homesickness, she nuzzled him and he startled, rocking backward on his hooves. “Sorry,” she said, moving away from him.

  He shook his head. “No, don’t be.” His eyes were large and sad, and Morningleaf softened toward him. Brackentail was more alone than any of them. His mother, Rowanwood, had not forgiven him for betraying Sun Herd. His old friends wouldn’t speak to him, and Echofrost hated him. Morningleaf, Star, and Bumblewind were the only friends he had left. It was hard to believe.

  Frostfire organized night sentries while Morningleaf, Shadepebble, and Brackentail grazed, filling their empty bellies. The sun burst through the clouds right before sunset. They each opened their wings to soak in as much heat as they could before nightfall. Morningleaf noticed that Shadepebble looked short and furry next to her own thin, sleek body. Back home, in Sun Herd’s lands, she and Echofrost had made fun of Mountain Herd steeds, calling them mountain goats. Now she felt sorry for saying those things.

  The pegasi settled head to tail for the night and were soon asleep, surrounded by Morningleaf’s bodyguards.

  Several hours later, Morningleaf woke to the frightful sounds of stallions screaming. “What’s happening?” she squealed, and then she heard the sickening crunch of hoof against bone.

  “Fly, Morningleaf!” whinnied Shadepebble. “Now!”

  Morningleaf bolted blindly, flying toward the night stars, fear shaking her to her core.

  24

  ATTACK

  “STOP HER!” ORDERED FROSTFIRE, POINTING AT Morningleaf. When the filly had agreed to let him escort her, he had begun to form a plan in his mind of how to dispose of her guards and kidnap her. And as they slept, he put his plan into effect. He had one of Morningleaf’s guards pinned to the ground, having attacked him in his sleep, but his prize was slipping away.

  His sky herder, Larksong, reared, her eyes gleaming, and she tore after the little chestnut. She caught Morningleaf fast and wrangled her back to land, clicking and whistling in the secret language of the sky herders, a tongue that had been passed down for generations, from one sky herder to the next.

  Morningleaf’s chest heaved, and her bright eyes spun wildly. “What are you doing?” she cried. Frostfire watched Shadepebble rush to her side, and the two fillies stood trembling.

  Frostfire split the skull of the River Herd stallion lying on the ground and moved on to the next. Two of his warriors battled Iceriver. His sire’s size and experience made up for his older age. Frostfire averted his eyes, unable to watch his father fight for his life.

  Suddenly, a yearling stallion burst into view and rammed Frostfire—Brackentail.

  “No, Brackentail! Fly away!” Morningleaf whinnied to her friend. “Get help. Get Star!”

  Frostfire whirled and reared as Brackentail sank his teeth into his blue feathers. Brackentail reared too and struck Frostfire’s chest with his front legs. Trails of blood rolled down Frostfire’s hide, startling him. This ragged yearling had sharpened his hooves like a warrior!

  Enraged, Frostfire snatched Brac
kentail by the mane and tossed him across the grass. Brackentail rolled onto his hooves and galloped back, charging Frostfire again. “You don’t learn, do you,” snapped Frostfire. He struck Brackentail’s head with his hoof, knocking the yearling senseless, and Brackentail collapsed onto the grass.

  “Stop this,” squealed Shadepebble, fluttering her wings at Frostfire. “You promised to escort them. How could you go back on your word?”

  Frostfire ignored his young aunt as a second River Herd stallion charged him and knocked him off his hooves. Frostfire fell and then rolled into the pinto’s legs, collapsing him and slamming the warrior onto his side. Frostfire bit into his purple feathers and dragged him close. He arched his neck around the stallion’s head and bit his throat. The pinto’s eyes quickly emptied of life.

  Frostfire hopped to his hooves and surveyed the battle. Iceriver and the rest of Morningleaf’s protectors were down, except for one. Due to the advantage of the surprise attack, Frostfire’s team was mostly unharmed, except that one of his warriors limped terribly, his leg hanging at an odd angle.

  Just then the last of Morningleaf’s guards, a palomino stallion, galloped past, chased by Larksong. Frostfire joined her and they circled him, forcing him to halt. He was young, maybe three or four years old, and his violet flight feathers were torn to shreds. Frostfire sneered and flashed his sharp incisors at the stallion. Larksong snatched the youngster’s wings and held him in place as Frostfire approached.

  The young River Herd stallion tried to hide his face, but Frostfire saw the tears in his eyes, and this enraged him. “You failed your duties, warrior,” Frostfire said to him. “Death is your only friend now.”

  “No! Let him go,” cried Morningleaf. The young stallion wasn’t much older than she.

  The palomino glanced wildly at Frostfire, then he struggled to his hooves and leaned toward him, ears pinned. “You failed,” he snapped. “You promised to hide Morningleaf.”

  Frostfire sidestepped the young warrior. “I am going to hide her,” he said, “from Star.”

  Morningleaf gasped.

  Frostfire shoved the young warrior hard enough to knock him flat on the grass, then he reared for the deathblow.

  Morningleaf shook uncontrollably, her large amber eyes rimmed in white, her tail tucked, and her breaths coming in short huffs. “What’s your name?” she whinnied to the fallen stallion. “I will tell all of River Herd about your bravery.”

  The light in the stallion’s eyes blazed, and he spoke with deep pride. “I am Summerwind, colt of Raintree and Poppyfeather of Sun Herd, warrior of River Herd, and follower of Starwing.”

  Frostfire inhaled—Starwing! So River Herd considered the black foal their over-stallion. Rockwing had been correct. The ridiculous council of pegasi was a ruse, and Frostfire had fallen for it. Star was their true leader. Frostfire grimaced. “Good-bye, Summerwind.” Frostfire dropped his hoof and ended the young stallion’s life.

  “Frostfire!” Shadepebble stared at him, mouth gaping.

  He bristled. “This is how we treat our enemies, Shadepebble.”

  Frostfire trotted to his sire, Iceriver, who was lying unconscious on the ground. He’d asked his team not to kill him, and they had followed his orders. He and his sire had spoken, but only a little on the journey, both feeling awkward. What Frostfire wanted to know, he hadn’t mustered the courage to ask. He wondered why his father hadn’t stood up to Petalcloud and kept him? But he also realized the answer didn’t matter. Iceriver hadn’t done it, and nothing could change that.

  But Frostfire learned some things from his sire that he wished he had not. Namely that Frostfire’s half sister, Lightfeather, was Star’s dam. The news had crushed and overwhelmed Frostfire. He and Star were related by blood! And his sister’s weakness revolted him. Lightfeather should have killed her colt when he was born. She was as useless as her sire. Frostfire wondered how many steeds in Anok knew he was Star’s uncle? The messengers who proclaimed Star’s birth had not named his dead mother—only the guardian herd. Frostfire hoped his shame would remain buried with his half sister forever.

  Frostfire’s injuries throbbed. He looked down and noticed smeared blood all over his chest. The smell would draw the wolves that lived in the area. His team also had bleeding wounds. He left Iceriver and gave orders to two of his stallions. “We need to clean up, fast. Go find a lake and then come back for us.” They obeyed and kicked off, disappearing into the dark sky.

  Frostfire glanced at his unconscious sire and fresh bitterness constricted his throat. He’d grown up without a proper dam or sire, a stranger in a strange herd. And Rockwing had pushed him harder than the other stallions, expecting more of him because of his large size and natural agility. Frostfire had graduated flight school early, entered the army as a two-year-old, and become the youngest captain in Mountain Herd’s history. The other stallions had bullied him, until he earned their respect. Frostfire had to be crueler and meaner than all of them. But he’d done it.

  He now stared at his true sire, torn between killing him and letting him live. Finally he let out his breath. He couldn’t kill Iceriver. No matter what, he couldn’t cross that line. “Break his wings,” he ordered Larksong, who stood next to him.

  Shadepebble lashed her tail. “That’s your sire, Frostfire.”

  Frostfire reared, threatening to strike her, but he held back his deadly hooves. “It’s why I’m not killing him,” he rasped. “But I can’t risk him following us.”

  Larksong interrupted. “You don’t have to break his wings,” she offered. “I could pull out his flight feathers.”

  He lashed his tail, impatient. “I’m not trained to do that. I don’t know which ones to pull.”

  Frostfire, and all warriors, learned how to ground pegasi by making clean breaks in minor wing bones and to leave the roots untouched. Under proper care, the wings would heal and the steed would fly again. It was how they handled enemies they merely wanted to subdue, like during certain kidnappings or raids, but these operations were always quick, leaving no time for feather plucking.

  “Sky herders are trained,” said Larksong, flicking her tail. “It’s gentler than breaking the wings but just as effective. He won’t be able to fly. I’ll do it.”

  “You’re sure it’ll work?” asked Frostfire, skeptical.

  Larksong nodded, her eyes gleaming. “Every time.”

  “Do it then,” ordered Frostfire. As she set to work, Frostfire noticed he’d lost track of Brackentail. The yearling was nowhere in sight. “Where’s Brackentail?”

  Morningleaf snorted, looking smug. “He’s gone. You lost him.”

  Frostfire pinned his ears. “Hurry up,” he snapped at the mares. “We have to get moving.”

  Shadepebble sat on her haunches, dazed. “Why have you done this, Frostfire?”

  Frostfire was getting tired of being questioned, so instead of answering her, he pointed south. “See that lone oak tree?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s our border. Cross it and go home. You too,” he said to the stallion with the broken leg.

  “I’m finished,” said Larksong, spitting downy blue plumage from her mouth.

  Frostfire turned to his group. “Good. Move out.”

  Morningleaf bolted, but Larksong snatched her quickly in a python-tight grip. Then two of his stallions took over and lifted Morningleaf by the bases of her wings.

  “Where are you taking her?” asked Shadepebble, her expression fearful and perplexed. “You were supposed to hide her with her protectors. What are you up to?”

  “Go home,” answered Frostfire, seething.

  “But what will I tell Rockwing? Your mission was to find me; he’ll expect you home.”

  Frostfire was grim. “My mission was also to kidnap Morningleaf.”

  “So my sire knows about this?” Shadepebble asked, looking betrayed.

  “Yes. And your kidnapping made the perfect excuse to go hunting for Morningleaf.”

  “But why do you wa
nt her?”

  Frostfire glanced at Morningleaf, who was trembling. “Because Rockwing is going to take Star’s birthland, and she’s our hostage,” he explained. “You know our herd is starving to death. Now fly home, Shadepebble, and don’t worry about it or I’ll tell Rockwing that you tried to join River Herd.”

  Shadepebble clenched her jaws and folded her wings, her fury pulsing in her veins.

  Frostfire’s scouts returned. “We found water, sir.”

  “Good.” Frostfire turned to Shadepebble and the stallion with the broken leg. “Home is due south. Tell Rockwing I’ve succeeded in capturing Morningleaf, and I’ve left to hide her from Star.”

  Frostfire kicked off, his team trailing behind him. His heart soared as he rose in altitude. He’d succeeded in both of his missions! He glanced back, taking stock of his team. Their numbers had been greatly reduced since he’d first set off from his territory. His original team of eight steeds had dwindled down to three—but they had Morningleaf!

  Frostfire still couldn’t believe Star had delivered the filly directly into his wings. And while he’d had to kill three River Herd stallions and ground his own sire, it was still a simpler operation than trying to steal her from Star.

  Frostfire’s remaining two stallions carried Morningleaf between them by the roots of her wings. The aqua-feathered filly was silent, and Frostfire was glad for that, but her expression was as sour as Shadepebble’s had been. She was small for a Sun Herd steed but colorful, as most of them were. Her shiny coat lay flat and smooth. Her wings sparkled even in the moonlight. She returned his gaze. He expected to see anger or fear in her eyes—but he saw neither. He saw pity.

  Frostfire scanned the ground for Brackentail but saw no sign of him. By the time the yearling alerted Star to the kidnapping, Frostfire would be long gone with his prize—and where he was taking Morningleaf, few steeds, if any, in Anok would think to look.

  25

  SEA OF RAIN