The Guardian Herd: Stormbound (6 page)

Star and the buckskin faced off, circling each other just below the first layer of clouds. With Morningleaf safe, Star focused on his opponent. Like all Snow Herd stallions, the buckskin was big and heavy, with large, round muscles. His eyes blazed, and if he felt any fear of the black foal, his fury had squashed it.

He lunged at Star, teeth bared. Star dodged him, but the stallion snatched a mouthful of Star's mane and yanked hard, ripping some hair out by the roots. Star braced his wings to keep from tumbling sideways. He kicked at the stallion and missed. The buckskin extended his wings, reared up, and pounded Star's back with his front hooves.

Reeling, Star chomped back his agony and whirled to
face his opponent. They struck each other, chest to chest, but Star's unsharpened hooves couldn't slice through the warrior's skin. Star dived in to bite his throat. The buckskin evaded him and kicked Star, his hooves as sharp as ice, opening wounds in Star's skin.

“Star!” whinnied Morningleaf, panting, but she couldn't help him. She and Dewberry were battling for the release of Bumblewind. The first stallion Dewberry attacked had fled. Star guessed he would return with reinforcements.

“I'm fine,” Star neighed. The buckskin squealed in anger and flew forward, ramming Star in the chest again. Star's wings lost their purchase on the wind, and he fell toward land, upside down. The buckskin leaped onto Star's belly and drove him toward the snow, whinnying in triumph. With the stallion's weight on him, Star couldn't flip over.

“Use your starfire!” neighed Bumblewind, who was free now.

The starfire gurgled like lava, ready to explode. But Star didn't want to use it, not this way. He gritted his teeth, threw back his head, and forced his body into a backward nosedive. He plummeted toward a pine forest, out of control but now free of the stallion.

“No!” whinnied Morningleaf, charging after him.

Star's wings whipped in the breeze, and the delicate end-bones threatened to break. Below him, the dense forest of snow-splashed pine trees circled as he fell in a headfirst spiral. He had seconds to pull out of the dive before he crashed. Many moons of swimming in Crabwing's Bay had strengthened his huge flying muscles. Star drew his wings tight to his body, angled the folded ends into the wind, and then slowly extended the tips, slicing them into the current and gently pushing down, capturing the breeze.

His body evened out just before impact, and he rocketed through the trees, his hooves skimming the white powder and his body tilting sometimes sideways to avoid slamming into large branches. He tried to control his manic heartbeat as he raced through the forest, which was too narrow for his large body. Trees flashed by faster than he could think, and it was pure instinct that kept him from colliding with them.

Star saw a space open up in the branches and beyond it, blue sky. He lifted his head and rocketed out of the forest, knocking the snow off the pine needles. He angled his wings to slow himself and then soared gracefully to an open clearing where he landed, breathing hard and
feeling dizzy. Morningleaf, Bumblewind, and Dewberry landed next to him. “That was incredible,” squealed Dewberry.

Sudden fury roiled in Star's gut, and he turned on her. “Why did you attack them?”

She pinned her ears and backed away. “What do you mean?”

“They were going to take us to Twistwing,” said Star, shaking his head. “All we had to do was let them.”

Dewberry bristled. “Nobody
takes
me, Star. I go under my own power or not at all.” She rattled her emerald feathers. “We're clearly not a threat; there was no need for the stallions to use force.”

The stallions they spoke of landed next to them. They were wary and also breathing hard. “You can't get away,” said the gray one.

“Actually we can,” said Star, lashing his tail, his eyes glowing gold. “But we don't want to.” He glared at Dewberry. “We flew here on purpose, to help you.”

“Help us?” whinnied the buckskin.

Star noticed the stallions he'd attacked were bleeding but were not mortally injured. He was covered in bites and scratches. Morningleaf limped on three legs, and Bumblewind had lost a fair amount of feathers. Dewberry
appeared unharmed, but Star was certain his small band of friends would have been slaughtered if the fight had continued much longer. Star looked back at the Snow Herd stallions. “Your messenger told us about the Blue Tongue plague. I can heal your sick steeds.” Star swallowed his irritation with Dewberry. “In spite of what just happened, we haven't come to fight.”

The gray stallion cocked his head, thinking. Then he said, “Twistwing will decide that. Follow me.” He kicked off and flew low over the sparkling snow, with Star and his friends following.

STAR AND HIS FRIENDS SWOOPED OVER A SET OF
low foothills and dropped into a wide valley, the heart of Snow Herd's territory. They cruised just over the terrain, tailing Twistwing's warriors. Two frozen lakes, sparse trees, gray boulders, and patches of turned-up moss decorated the otherwise bland landscape of trampled snow and gray skies. The members of Snow Herd were gathered into four separate groups, probably based on their level of illness, and the herd was small, consisting of maybe eighteen hundred pegasi.

“Where are the dead?” Dewberry asked the warriors.

Morningleaf jerked her head toward the little battle mare, looking appalled, but the buckskin stallion kept
flying and answered her question without emotion. “We fly them to the ocean and drop them where the water is deep.”

Dewberry nodded, and Star remembered hearing that her mother was the medicine mare who'd trained Sweetroot. Her question wasn't mean-spirited; it was important, because dead bodies continued to spread disease. Star exhaled, feeling sad for Snow Herd's lost pegasi but also hopeful. He could save the rest of them.

The Snow Herd stallions landed them near the healthiest of the groups. Star recognized Twistwing's olive-green feathers as the over-stallion galloped toward him, followed by a pretty gray mare.

“That's Petalcloud,” whispered Morningleaf with a gasp. The mare was a legend, the first foal born alive to Rockwing and his mate, Birchcloud. But then she'd abandoned them to become lead mare of Snow Herd. When Rockwing demanded she trade her firstborn foal to him as payment for her freedom, she had been happy to agree. She'd sent her colt, Frostfire, away on the day he was weaned. The rest of her foals were born dead, like her sire's.

Petalcloud was young to lead a herd, only seventeen. She was thought to be the most beautiful mare in Anok, although not everyone agreed about that. Star certainly
didn't think so, but her beauty was all the more startling since she came from Mountain Herd, the territory where the mares were usually quite plain.

Petalcloud spoke first, gazing at Star, her eyes bright. “The black foal, in the flesh,” she nickered, flicking her silky tail at him. Her voice was throaty, with a lilting vibration like the purr of a great cat.

Star shifted uncomfortably, and behind him he heard Morningleaf snort. Petalcloud stepped forward until she was face-to-face with Star. He saw none of the veiled fear in her eyes that most steeds, even some from his own herd, harbored for him. She touched her muzzle to his and breathed softly into his nose, greeting him as though they were old friends. As her guest, Star tolerated it, but he did not trust her.

Twistwing stamped his hoof and spoke to Star. “You're trespassing. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now?”

Irritated, Star threw his head up, displaying his full height, and Petalcloud backed away from him. “I've come to heal your sick pegasi, to rid your herd of Blue Tongue.”

Some members of Snow Herd overheard Star, and they passed the message along in excited whispers. Petalcloud swiveled her ears, listening, then she gave Twistwing an almost imperceptible shake of her head. He stared at his
mate for a long while, and it was like they spoke without words, but the mare's tense body revealed her feelings. She was hostile to the idea.

Twistwing broke the silence, speaking to Star. “We're recovering from Blue Tongue. We don't need your help.”

Dewberry huffed, glancing around the valley. “Recovering? I count six hundred of you right now with advanced symptoms: rapid breathing, cloudy eyes, and lost weight.” She nodded toward a group of pegasi lying on their sides. “And those two hundred over there will be dead by morning. The rest of you have been exposed. You aren't
recovering
from it; you're
succumbing
to it.”

“Are you a medicine mare?” asked Petalcloud, her voice sharp.

“No,” admitted Dewberry, “but my mother was.”

“Enough of us are immune to survive this.”

Dewberry pinned her ears, pointing her wing at a group of mares. “Half those foals will be born dead. Star can save them.” She spoke loud enough for all the Snow Herd steeds to hear her.

Petalcloud swished her tail. “Foals are born dead all the time.”

“Maybe yours and your father's, but not most,” quipped Dewberry.

Petalcloud squealed sharply and lunged at Dewberry. Star shoved his way between the mares, taking their bites to his own flesh and pushing them apart with his great wings.

“Enough!” roared Twistwing. Petalcloud backed away, making a hissing noise in the back of her throat, her neck and ears flat, and her tail lashing violently.

Star pushed Dewberry into Bumblewind. “Hold her,” he said. Bumblewind wrapped his wings around the battle mare's chest, and Morningleaf positioned herself in front. Dewberry pawed the snow but stayed.

Twistwing and Star faced each other. Star pricked his ears, taking in all of Snow Herd. He believed Dewberry and Petalcloud were both correct. Snow Herd had succumbed to Blue Tongue, but they would survive it in the end. There were enough immune pegasi to rebuild the herd, but they would be weakened by their losses for many years to come. If they accepted his help, they would be better off.

Twistwing sighed and then spoke. “Since you're not a raiding party, you may leave without harm, if you go right now.”

Star arched his neck, stunned. “But I can help you. I can save the foals and stop the threat of the plague
spreading to the other herds.”

“No. You will leave.”

Behind Twistwing, Snow Herd grumbled.

“Let him stay.”

“He's the healer.”

“He brought the blue-winged filly back from the dead. He can help us.”

“I don't understand. You would let your steeds die?” Star asked, perplexed.

Twistwing pinned his ears. “Rather than take help from the black foal? Yes.”

A pregnant mare whinnied in anger and charged Twistwing. His stallions blocked her, biting the top of her neck until she squealed in pain and submitted to them. Twistwing turned around, baring his teeth, and addressed his confused and frightened herd. “Do you know what it means to accept his help?” he asked, his words carrying far across the frozen land, silencing everyone. “Who of you would stand against him if he chose to conquer us, to take over Snow Herd? We will owe him—forever. He will heal us, but inflict a direr wound upon us: servitude to his whims.”

The Snow Herd pegasi trembled, unsure.

“That's not true! I don't want Snow Herd,” whinnied
Star. He exchanged a disbelieving look with Morningleaf. She shrugged her wings, as baffled as he.

“You say that now,” said Twistwing, rearing and flapping his olive-green wings. “I won't make a pact with the black foal.”

Star clenched his jaw. By using the word
pact
, Twistwing purposefully reminded his herdmates of Nightwing. Desert Herd had sought to make a pact with the Destroyer four hundred years ago—but the result was the near extinction of all pegasi when Nightwing refused the deal.

“He's come to conquer us!” whinnied a yearling colt, and the healthiest steeds in the herd stampeded into the gray sky, away from Star. Petalcloud arched her neck and stared him down, looking fearless and triumphant both at once.

Twistwing's warriors rushed to his side, and they all faced Star. “Leave us,” the over-stallion commanded.

“Come on. Let's go,” said Morningleaf, nudging Star. “There's nothing we can do for this herd.”

Still baffled, Star nodded and kicked off, flying out of the valley. His friends followed, riding his wake, all of them silent. Star cruised across the foothills to an open expanse of land consisting of miles and miles of snow. There were no trees or rocks, and only the occasional lake.
Star oriented himself using the movement of the sun as his guide and traveled northeast, toward the Ice Lands of Anok, where River Herd waited for him.

“I don't understand it,” Star said to Morningleaf, who flew next to him. “Why won't they let me help them?”

She sighed. “They don't trust you.”

“But I didn't bring an army to threaten them.” He gazed at his wounds. “It was the opposite.
They
attacked
me
.”

Morningleaf flattened her neck against the biting wind. “You don't need an army to kill pegasi, Star. You're the black foal.”

“But I told them I wouldn't hurt them, and I didn't use my starfire.”

Morningleaf glanced at him, her amber eyes flat and sad. “I know, and they heard you, but they weren't really listening.”

A hard lump formed in Star's throat, and he dropped the conversation.

At dusk they landed for the night. “I'll take the first watch,” said Star.

“No. You're injured. I'll do it,” insisted Bumblewind.

Star nickered, amused. “I'll be as good as new in a few minutes.” Star called up his starfire and sent it racing
through his body, healing his wounds from the inside out. The cuts and bites vanished almost instantly. He blasted Morningleaf's swollen leg, restoring it, and also Bumblewind's torn and bruised feathers.

“Thanks, Star!” said Bumblewind, inspecting his wings.

“I'm hungry,” complained Dewberry, munching on snow.

Since his birthday, Star didn't feel hunger or thirst like he used to. The starfire supplied energy, renewed him, and fed his muscles. If the elders were correct about his power, he was immortal. He wouldn't age or die. He could be killed only if his body was destroyed beyond his ability to repair it, but otherwise he would live forever. Star avoided thinking about that. His friends were not immortal, and they felt hunger and grew weary, and so he let them rest.

But to find food in this harsh environment, the four of them had to scrape at the snow with their hooves until they found a layer of green lichen. They grazed on the tasteless moss until the last rays of the sun disappeared and the pale glow of the moon cast the only light.

“What was Snow Herd's problem today?” asked Dewberry as she and the others dug into the snow to sleep. “Don't they want to live?”

Morningleaf grimaced. “That was fear.”

“Fear of what? Survival?” Dewberry folded her wings around her body.

“That was stupidity,” said Bumblewind.

Dewberry nodded. “They deserve to die.”

Bumblewind nickered, “For once I agree with you.”

Dewberry snorted. “For once! You always agree with me.”

“I do not,” he whinnied.

“Do too.”

Star watched over his friends as they bickered with each other before falling asleep.
What good was his power if the pegasi of Anok wouldn't accept it?
Feeling useless, he focused on what he could do: protect his friends on this cold night and attempt to sharpen his hooves. He found a flat rock and imitated the motions of the warriors. He'd watched them do it a hundred times, but after many long minutes of rubbing his hooves on the rock, they were smoother, not sharper. He would have to learn the secret when he returned to River Herd.

The sky was clear, and he could see his breath blowing from his nostrils and rising toward the stars. The utter silence of the north amplified the smaller noises: the sharp chortles from the animals, the snapping of twigs, and the
sudden dumping of snow off overburdened branches. Star's ears flicked as he listened to the sounds and kept watch.

In the morning, Star and his group flew several more hours until they spotted River Herd resting at the base of the Hoofbeat Mountains in the northernmost lands of Anok. Their hides were dusted with fresh white powder, and their coats had thickened in just the few days since they'd arrived. Star landed, and the steeds greeted him with joy. In this foreign, icy land Star relaxed, for with River Herd he was home.