The Guardian Herd (17 page)

SPRING ARRIVED QUICKLY IN THE FLATLANDS.
The snow turned to slush and then to mud. The plains grasses reached for the sun, succulent and sweet, and warm rains shed from the clouds. Like Star's tears, the raindrops caused bright flowers to spring from the soil. The insect population erupted, filling the sky with black hordes of swarming bloodsuckers, and the first of the newborn pegasi buzzed over their dams like fattened bees. Otherwise, the shallow sky was empty. The rest of Wind Herd—having no territories to defend, no predators to kill, and no wars to fight—had no purpose at all, except to watch Star build the tribute.

A few mothers were still round with foal, and one of
those was Petalcloud, but the rest had dropped their young. Star studied Petalcloud as he worked on his tribute. She was acting strangely today, pacing and gripping her belly with her wings, her expression twisted with pain. “Something's wrong with Petalcloud,” Star said.

Frostfire trotted to Star's side and watched, looking curious.

A shadow passed over them, and Star saw Nightwing soaring overhead, but when he noticed Petalcloud on the ground, he landed beside her. She halted, and they whispered together. Then she leaned against him, and Nightwing brayed for Sweetroot, who was known for her vast birthing skills.

Sweetroot immediately galloped to the groaning mare, and they retreated to the shade tree where Petalcloud and Nightwing often slept. Star could no longer see them.

“Is Petalcloud going to be all right?” Star asked.

Frostfire flattened his neck. “How should I know?” he grumbled, and walked away.

His own colt had been born two days earlier, and Frostfire was beside himself with desire to see him up close. From a distance, Starfrost was a fine foal, compact and muscular, pure white with pale-yellow, white-edged feathers, and a short, curly tail. He flew just moments after his
birth, and Frostfire had gasped with pride. Star too felt the pull in his heart for his young cousin.

Star lifted the stone he'd put down and returned to work. Silverlake and Echofrost had spread the word that the tribute was for Bumblewind, and a seed of hope had bloomed in the hearts of the pegasi. Star saw them watching him from the distant grassland, encouraging him with their eyes, and he worked harder, faster.

But as the monument rose, it became more difficult and tiresome to build. Morningleaf had woven a large basket over the winter, which Star used to carry stones to the top of the monument. But lifting and setting the flat rocks and wiping the clay while trying to balance on the tribute—it all took a heavy toll on Star's legs and wings. His end feathers had eroded into bloody nubs; his flying muscles often seized, causing him to crash; and his back ached between his shoulder blades. It hurt him to fold his long wings when resting, so he let them drag on the ground. When Star looked at his reflection in the river, it was like traveling back in time, to when he was a dud foal in Dawn Meadow.

But Star was not that foal any longer, and he was not discouraged. He'd asked permission to heal his wings several times so he could work faster, but Nightwing had
refused. The sight of Star's low-slung head, exhausted body, and sagging wings delighted the Destroyer. He often pointed at Star and whinnied to Wind Herd, “Look at your black foal now. He's nothing but a broken-down horse.”

So Star threw his energy into building the tribute, while his friends built the tunnel, knowing these were the two things keeping the steeds' hearts aflame. And both were almost finished. Star had become adept at counting, and today when he made his tally, he was pleased to note there were only seventy stones left to move.

Several hours passed, and the spring sun rose, glinting off Star's black hide. He dripped sweat but kept working.

“What's that?” neighed Frostfire.

Star lifted his head. He heard it too: a wild roaring sound that filled the sky like whistling winds. It was coming from the shade trees where Sweetroot had gone with Petalcloud and Nightwing. He looked in time to see Sweetroot limping out of the shade with a huge welt on her right leg. Someone had kicked her! Star lunged forward, his heart racing. From across the valley, Sweetroot caught sight of his sudden movement and shook her head. She stumbled back to Silverlake, and all the mares gathered around to hear what had happened.

Star halted, his pulse thumping in his neck. The
wailing continued, and Star recognized the sound as grief. But it wasn't Petalcloud's voice. It was Nightwing's. Frostfire flew across the grass and hovered near Star, his eyes round and wild. “Who died?” he asked, also recognizing the sound of mourning.

“I don't know.” Star watched the darkened area under the trees, then a black figure emerged—the Destroyer, carrying a newborn pegasus in his wings. Nightwing was shedding feathers and trembling violently. The colt looked asleep, but no newborn pegasus was born sleeping. The colt's hide was black, and his long wings hung limply to the ground. Star staggered, and tears sprang to his eyes. It was like looking at himself, except this foal had a wide blaze and violet feathers, just like his dam.

“Born dead,” said Frostfire, shaking his head. “It's Petalcloud's curse that she inherited from Rockwing. All his colts were stillborn and so are hers. I'm the only living male in her line, and now another colt is lost.”

“No,” said Star. “You're not the only male. Now there's also Starfrost.”

Frostfire grunted, looking pleased but also concerned. “You're right.”

Nightwing placed his son in the grass and reared, throwing back his head. Silver starfire crackled across
his glossy hide, and every pegasus in Wind Herd stared at him, their eyes round.

“Get back,” Star whispered to Frostfire, even though they weren't anywhere near the ancient stallion, but Star saw what was coming.

Nightwing swiveled his head and locked his eyes on the Wind Herd steeds. “Are you laughing at me?” he brayed. “At my son?” He lifted off, tucked his wings, and hurtled toward them, panting starfire. Sparks flowed off his hooves.

Star leaped into the sky and soared toward the pegasi in the valley. “Run!” he screamed to them.

The Wind Herd steeds bolted, galloping in every direction. Nightwing shot starfire in random bursts. He aimed at anything that moved, and several pegasi exploded into flames. Star brayed new instructions. “Hold still!”

Then Petalcloud stepped out of the shade with a tiny piebald filly nursing at her side, flying like a hummingbird. Star cocked his head. “They had twins,” he said to himself.

Petalcloud halted near her stillborn colt's body that was curled in the grass and whispered a few words over him, and then she turned her back, returning to the shade with her healthy filly.

Nightwing dived toward his colt as the Wind Herd pegasi collected and stood shivering, afraid and confused. The Destroyer landed and pulled the limp foal into his wings. Black flowers sprang out of the soil around them.

Star pricked his ears, stunned. The Destroyer was crying.

Then Nightwing inhaled deeply and attempted to heal his son, coughing golden starfire on him. He did this repeatedly, but the starfire swirled in weak bursts. The colt didn't move. Nightwing didn't have enough experience with healing to help him.

Without thinking, Star glided across the valley and landed next to the pair. He understood that Nightwing's dark thoughts were stifling his healing power, but Star was well practiced with it. “I can save him,” he said. “Let me try.”

Nightwing didn't move, didn't seem to hear Star at all.

“Please, let me help.”

Nightwing inhaled again, taking a long, slow breath. Star moved closer, expecting agreement. Nightwing drew his face level with Star's, and their eyes connected. Star was bigger, taller. He looked down at Nightwing and was overcome by sympathy for him. Hope rose in his chest. Maybe if he healed the son, he could befriend the
father—or at least soften his heart.

Nightwing blinked, and his eyes darkened.

Too late, Star saw his intention. The Destroyer hissed like a snake and shot quills of silver light at Star. They punctured his hide in a dozen places. Star cried out in shock. Nightwing let loose more deadly quills, and Star threw up his shield, protecting himself from the second attack. “Go,” roared Nightwing. “Leave us.”

Confused, Star lurched across the valley. Halfway, he collapsed, unable to breathe. The light quills had punctured his lungs and his legs, and pierced his gut. Star quickly pushed starfire throughout his body, healing himself. He glanced back at Nightwing, but the Destroyer ignored him, too lost in his grief.

Then Petalcloud marched out of the shade and confronted Nightwing. The two argued, and Petalcloud pointed across the valley—at her grandson, Starfrost.

Frostfire saw this from afar. “No . . . no! She wants my colt.” He flew off the grass at the same time as Nightwing. They each hurtled toward Larksong and Starfrost. “Fly!” Frostfire neighed to her. Larksong shielded Starfrost, shaking her head. A newborn could never keep up with her if she fled, and Star saw she wouldn't leave her son.

Nightwing reached her first. Larksong flew up to fight
him, her teeth flashing, but Frostfire knocked her out of the way just as a burst of silver starfire flew past her head. Frostfire pinned Larksong to the grass to protect her while Nightwing picked up their perfect white colt in his wings.

Larksong screamed, “Let him go!” She tried to break away, but Frostfire held her back. With a hiss of sparks, Nightwing cantered back to Petalcloud, carrying Starfrost in his wings. The newborn colt bleated loudly for Larksong, and she answered him with shrill whinnies.

When Nightwing reached Petalcloud, he laid the colt at her feet, and then he walked away, returning to his son who'd died.

The valley was still. Not a single pegasus moved. Stealing a newborn from its mother was unheard of in Anok—weanlings, yes, but not newborns. Star's gut twisted, and he felt sick.

Petalcloud nuzzled her new colt Starfrost and then lifted her head, gazing at Frostfire, her eyes hard and black, but pleased. She shrugged her violet wings, almost as if in apology, then turned and took her two foals beneath the sycamore tree to rest.

Larksong melted into the grass, crying. Frostfire swept his wings over her, trying to calm her. Nightwing took his
dead colt to the river and buried him under stones. And Star flew back to the tribute, swallowing waves of emotions. Why hadn't Nightwing let him help? He could have saved the foal! Fury, sadness, and grief pulverized Star from the inside out.

Long hours passed this way, and the herd returned to grazing. Eventually Frostfire left Larksong's side. He flew to Star and landed in front of him.

“I'm sorr—” Star began, though none of it was his fault.

Frostfire flattened his ears. “Don't.”

Star closed his mouth. He could think of no words to soothe Frostfire.

His uncle pushed past him and stalked into the woods to be alone. Sweetroot limped to Larksong's side, feeding her calming roots.

Nightwing returned from burying his colt and joined Petalcloud. They nuzzled their foals and comforted Starfrost.

And Star watched it all, studying the Destroyer and wondering how it felt to have a family and a herd of his own, but at what cost?

Petalcloud ordered the Ice Warriors to take the herd out to graze. They obeyed, and Star watched the pegasi
of Anok stomp onto the grassland because they weren't allowed to fly—and he realized they were the band of horses that he'd feared they'd become when he was in the Trap. Silverlake had asked him to leave Anok and to come back when he was stronger. He'd told her he wouldn't go because he was afraid of what he'd find when he returned:
I'll find a herd of dull beasts, slaves of Nightwing, pegasi afraid of their own shadows. You'll be turned into a herd of horses—mindlessly following one stallion.

Star gazed over the valley at the pegasi of Anok and saw that his fears had already come true. “It's time,” he said to no one. “It's time to end this.”