Wings of Fire Book Four: The Dark Secret, Page 8

  Fatespeaker opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Really?” she finally said in a small voice. Starflight felt sorry for her. Starting with what Glory had told him in the rainforest, he’d had a few days to adjust to how different NightWings were from his expectations. Fatespeaker was getting it all thrown at her at once.

  “Not today, though,” said Morrowseer. “For now, I’m moving you all to the fortress so I can keep an eye on you.”

  He ended up dumping them in the same dormitory where Starflight had first woken up. Then, to Starflight’s relief, Morrowseer stomped off to the evening council meeting without him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to take me?” Fatespeaker asked him. Starflight guessed she was hoping to meet other NightWings — ones who might give her a better impression of the tribe than Morrowseer and Mastermind.

  “Very sure. Stay here,” Morrowseer growled at her. “And try to speak as little as possible.”

  She watched him leave, her wings drooping. “I was hoping to see the queen,” she said to Starflight.

  “You heard Mastermind. Nobody sees the queen.” He shook his head. “It looked to me like she does everything through her daughter, Greatness.” Which was something else Starflight needed more time to think about. He suspected there was more to that story.

  He wondered if he should try talking to Fatespeaker about the NightWings’ plan. Maybe she’d be willing to help him stop it — he knew she felt sorry for the trapped RainWings she’d seen. But no matter how sympathetic she was, would she be willing to betray her tribe?

  There was no time to talk to her anyway. As soon as Morrowseer was gone, Starflight and Fatespeaker and Viper and Squid were swarmed by the NightWing dragonets who lived in the dormitory.

  “Hello!” Fatespeaker chirped. “Hi! Hi! It’s so nice to meet you all!”

  “Oh, so you’re the other one,” Fierceteeth said, sniffing her. “You don’t look that great either.”

  “Look at all the colors!” Mindreader said, poking Squid’s green wings. “Shiny!”

  “Don’t touch me!” he whined. “Viper! Make them stop!”

  The SandWing ignored him. She brandished her tail until the NightWing dragonets got out of her way, then stormed to a sleeping spot at the farthest end of the dormitory and curled up on the stone.

  Exhaustion was starting to overwhelm Starflight. He left Fatespeaker while she was introducing herself to everyone and lay down in the same place where he’d woken up a few hours before.

  He missed his friends. He wanted to be eating boar with Clay, arguing with Tsunami, telling Glory about all his strange new discoveries and warning her about the NightWings. But mostly he missed Sunny. He missed her warm scales leaning against his, her green eyes watching him while he talked. He wanted to tell her about everything that had happened today — about the strange hunting habits of the NightWings, the terrifying council chamber, the mysterious behavior of the queen, and what he’d figured out about their secret plan.

  He wanted to tell her all about his father.

  And the alternate dragonets.

  And …

  His eyes closed, and sleep came for him.

  Starflight was dreaming, but it wasn’t so much a dream as a memory.

  He was waiting by the cave entrance when Webs rolled the boulder aside and came in. His wings unfurled and he leaned forward, trying to see the guardian’s claws.

  “Just one this time,” Webs said, untangling a scroll from the net full of fish he was carrying. He tossed it to Starflight, who caught it and turned it reverently between his talons. It was damp around the edges and smelled like fish, but he didn’t care.

  He carried it to the study cave and found Sunny curled in the small beam of sunlight that came through the hole in the roof. His heart skipped a beat as she opened her green eyes and smiled at him.

  “A new scroll?” she said. “What’s this one about?”

  He sat down next to her and unrolled it carefully. “It’s about us.” His eyes scanned the text quickly. “Oh, weird. This must have been written recently. It’s all theories about where we are and who might be part of the prophecy and how it might come true.”

  Sunny sat up and peered over his shoulder, her warm golden scales pressing against his. “Wow, I’d like to know all that myself.”

  “It says there were seventeen SeaWing dragonets who hatched on the brightest night, but only six of them were from blue eggs, and maybe it’s none of them because perhaps there were other SeaWing eggs outside the Kingdom of the Sea. Like children of the Talons of Peace, it says.”

  “Or an egg that was stolen by the Talons,” Sunny pointed out.

  “Right. It doesn’t mention that possibility.” Starflight went quiet, reading a little further.

  “Does it say anything about the SandWing egg?” she asked nervously.

  “The author seems confused about that.” Starflight rolled the scroll along, searching for references to SandWings. “He says if a SandWing dragonet hatched on its own in the desert somewhere, it couldn’t have survived. So it must be someone’s egg — maybe from the Talons of Peace again. That would explain ‘hidden away from the rival queens.’”

  “I wish the guardians would tell us more about where our eggs came from,” Sunny said with a sigh.

  “Maybe I should skip ahead to the part about stopping the war,” Starflight said, rolling the scroll through his talons.

  “Good idea. We’re taking suggestions!” she joked. “Any war-stopping tips are welcome over here.”

  Starflight paused on the word SkyWing. “It says something about how there aren’t any SkyWings left who were hatched on the brightest night … what? That’s weird. There must be some in the Sky Kingdom. Maybe this author doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He kept reading, hoping to keep Sunny close to him for as long as possible.

  “We don’t need a SkyWing anyway,” she said. “We’ve got Glory. Isn’t it exciting that there are dragons talking about us all over Pyrrhia?” she added dreamily. “Right now there are soldiers camped on battlefields talking about how we’re the ones who’ll save them from the endless fighting. There are dragonets who want their mothers and fathers to come home, and they know we’re the ones who’ll make it happen. We’re going to make so many dragons happy, Starflight.” She shifted her wings and shrugged like she was trying not to sound too dramatic. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s just nice to know for sure that we’re here for a reason, and we’re going to do something important.”

  Starflight liked the way Sunny thought about the prophecy. The idea of that many dragons relying on him always made Starflight feel overwhelmed and anxious. But for Sunny, the prophecy was a promise, not an order. Listening to her talk about it was comforting.

  “Here,” he said. “Possible ways for the dragonets to fulfill the prophecy. Um … all right, the first theory is that all the dragonets are royal daughters, so they’ll all become queens of their tribes and stop the war that way.”

  Sunny smothered a giggle. “I can totally see Clay as a MudWing princess.”

  He grinned back. “It doesn’t make sense, though, without an IceWing — and it means you’d have to be the next SandWing queen.”

  “No, thank you!” Sunny said firmly. “I’m not Tsunami. I would never want to be queen.”

  Starflight didn’t like the idea either, although the part that bothered him was the thought of Sunny being challenged by vicious SandWings who wanted to be queen in her place.

  “All right, let’s find the next —” he started, when suddenly a commotion of running claws sounded from the tunnel.

  They both looked up as Kestrel burst into the room with Dune and Webs right behind her.

  “Give me that,” Kestrel snarled, snatching the scroll out of Starflight’s talons. He let out a cry of dismay as it tore between their claws.

  The SkyWing peered at the scroll, then whipped around to glare at Webs. “What were you thinking? Handing them any piece of trash you fin
d on the beach?”

  “The fish trader gave it to me,” Webs said defensively. “She knows I’m always looking for new scrolls. I didn’t have time to read it, but I didn’t think it sounded that bad.”

  “Where Are the Dragonets of Destiny?” Kestrel read off the title. “That doesn’t sound dangerous to you? Filling their heads with questions and ideas?”

  “Our heads are already full of questions and ideas,” Sunny piped up.

  “We’ll tell you what you need to know about the prophecy,” Kestrel growled at Sunny and Starflight. “You don’t need a pile of gossip and rumors and speculation cluttering up your tiny little minds.”

  “Starflight’s mind isn’t at all tiny or little,” Sunny objected. She glanced at Starflight, and when he didn’t say anything, she whispered. “Hey, your line is, ‘Neither is Sunny’s.’”

  Starflight knew she was trying to make him feel better, but he was too nervous to speak. Why were the guardians so mad? Had he done something wrong?

  “This is not for you,” Kestrel snapped, waving the scroll. She pointed it at Starflight. “You. Battle training, now.” She turned and stomped out of the cave with the other guardians close behind her.

  Sunny ran to the entranceway, then turned back to Starflight with a comically outraged look on her face.

  “Are you just going to let her do that?” she said. “She took your scroll! That’s so unfair!”

  Starflight thought so, too, but he definitely was not going to argue with Kestrel. “It’s all right,” he said, looking down at the gray rocks below his talons. “Hopefully Webs will bring a new scroll next week.”

  “Oh, Starflight. I know you’re trying to hide it, but you’re so sad now,” Sunny said. She came and sat in front of him, reaching to touch his tail with her own. “Listen, that scroll wasn’t going to have all the answers anyway. You know that, right? Nobody knows how the prophecy will unfold. We just have to always do what we think is right and fate will take us in the right direction.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But a map on how to get there would be helpful.”

  “You don’t need a map,” she said, “when you have excellent traveling companions. Like Clay and Tsunami and Glory. And, of course, me.” She beamed at him.

  “That’s true,” he said, feeling again how lucky he was. Of all the caves in all of Pyrrhia — of all the eggs that could have been chosen — somehow his and hers had wound up here, and two dragons who never should have met were together.

  And that’s how we’ll always be, he thought.

  Starflight woke up to find a claw poking his snout. “Mmmmf?” he mumbled. Everything was still and dark in the dormitory. The coals smoldered in the wall niches like the half-closed eyes of slumbering dragons. The skylight looked out onto a night with no stars.

  The warmth from his dream faded instantly. Sunny was far away, and he had no idea when he’d ever see her again.

  “I can’t sleep,” Fatespeaker whispered in the dark. Her wings rustled as she edged closer to him and poked his shoulder again. “What are you doing?”

  “Um,” said Starflight. “Sleeping?”

  “Let’s go explore,” she said. “I want to know more about our tribe, don’t you? We can go look around the whole fortress while they’re asleep.”

  He rubbed his eyes and blinked at her. “Won’t we get in trouble?”

  “Why?” she said. “Nobody’s told us not to. We’re NightWings, aren’t we? Isn’t this our fortress, too? Let’s explore it before someone tells us we can’t.”

  There was a kind of logic to that, although Starflight wasn’t sure Morrowseer would agree with it. But really, she was right. Why should they get in trouble for acting like they belonged here?

  Besides, it was what Tsunami would do. And wasn’t he always thinking he wanted to be more like her?

  He rolled off the bed onto the floor next to Fatespeaker, and they padded softly out into the tunnels. She picked a direction apparently at random and they started to walk the empty halls. The only sound was the tapping of their own claws and the slithering of their tails on the stone.

  Don’t be scared, Starflight told himself. And then told himself again, a few more times. You’re not doing anything wrong. There aren’t any dangers lying in wait for you. You’re not being treated like a prisoner. You’re a NightWing dragonet. This is your tribe. This is where you could have grown up. He glanced at the bare walls, not so very different from the cave where he had grown up. This is where you’re supposed to be.

  No. I’m supposed to be where Sunny is. I’m supposed to be helping my friends stop the war. He stopped walking for a minute to take a deep breath, then hurried after Fatespeaker.

  All the torches had been extinguished, so the only light came from the glowing red coals in the walls. Starflight couldn’t even see any of the moons when he looked out the windows. The sky was too hidden by clouds and smoke from the volcano.

  He knew they wouldn’t find much that might be useful unless he was brave enough to open a door sometime, but he was terrified of waking up any sleeping NightWings. He kept imagining walking straight into Morrowseer’s room and stepping on his tail by accident, and the death or dismemberment or both that would no doubt inevitably follow.

  He was glad to see that Fatespeaker wasn’t going in the direction of his father’s lab. Mastermind was surely sleeping like the rest of the tribe, but Starflight didn’t want to risk encountering him — or get any closer to the things he’d seen in there.

  Every once in a while, as they walked, they heard a quiet snore from the rooms they were passing. But they saw no one awake. No guards anywhere.

  “I guess they’re used to not needing guards,” Starflight whispered. “Since no other tribe could find this place, they were always safe from attack.” He thought for a minute. “And even now that they might be attacked, they only need to post guards at the tunnel.”

  “I’m surprised everyone is asleep, though,” Fatespeaker whispered back. “I always thought being a NightWing meant you wanted to be awake all night. I mean, that’s true of me. I can never wake up in the morning, but once it’s dark, I’m full of energy. Does that happen to you? I really thought that was a NightWing thing. But maybe my friends are right and I’m just weird.” She kicked a rock sticking out of a crack in the floor.

  “Or maybe it is a NightWing thing and they’re all muddled here because they can’t really see the night sky anymore,” Starflight said. “Maybe you’re more of a NightWing than any of them.”

  She fluttered her wings, looking skeptical.

  “As for me, I lived in a cave with no sky most of my life, so I was on whatever schedule our guardians told us to be. But once we were free … well, it’s been a strange few weeks, so it’s hard to say. But I do feel more alive when the stars are out. Does that make sense?”

  “It does,” she said, smiling at him. She paused at an intersection, thinking, and then purposefully turned right.

  “Are we going somewhere?” he asked her.

  “Did you see the part of the fortress that collapsed?” she asked. “I want to see what it looks like from inside.”

  He stopped, his heart rattling nervously. “Wait,” he said. “It collapsed because it was covered in lava. That can’t be safe to explore.”

  She flicked his nose with her tail. “Oh, stop worrying. Mightyclaws told me it happened, like, eleven years ago. It’s just a bunch of rocks now, and he said it’s kind of neat-looking. I guess it covered the part of the fortress where they used to keep their treasure, so they had to blast tunnels into it to get their treasure out. Tunnels! In lava rocks! It’ll be awesome. Come on!”

  She bounded ahead and he followed, more slowly, wishing he’d listened to his original stay-in-bed instincts.

  Fatespeaker’s sense of direction turned out to be better than her sense about dragons, and before long they found themselves in a part of the fortress where the roof was partly gone. What looked like thick black bubbles of rock filled
the hall ahead of them. Chilly air whistled through the gaps in the walls, battling with the heat from the volcano below their talons.

  “There,” Fatespeaker whispered, darting up to where the petrified lava met the wall. A tunnel just big enough for a dragon had been chiseled and blasted and dug out of the rocks. Without any hesitation, she headed inside.

  What am I doing? Starflight asked himself. He really desperately wanted to melt into the shadows and stay there waiting for her. But he also felt as though she couldn’t go in there alone. And this time there was no Clay or Tsunami or Glory to do the brave thing for him. He was the only dragon Fatespeaker had.

  Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to step into the small tunnel. Jagged rock pressed in from all sides, scraping his wings and the top of his head.

  The tunnel twisted quickly downward, so they had to dig their claws in to avoid sliding. Fatespeaker breathed a small plume of fire, but all that did was illuminate the thick dark walls that encircled them. The air was hot and stuffy, and Starflight began to wonder if anyone had ever died exploring these tunnels.

  Suddenly the tunnel turned directly down and dumped them out into an empty space. Fatespeaker fell first, letting out a shout of surprise, so Starflight had a minute’s warning and was able to open his wings as soon as his claws lost their grip on the floor. Still, he tumbled several feet and landed on top of her.

  “Ooof,” she said. He scrambled away, and they both lit up the air with their fire at the same time.

  The room was small but intact; the lava had crushed the upper floors but left this one preserved. Starflight could see a small hallway outside the door, with more rooms beyond that. He looked up uneasily, thinking about the weight of everything above them.

  Fatespeaker was already hurrying to the doorway as their fire faded into complete darkness. “Mightyclaws said the old treasure room is three doors down on the left. Come on!”

  “But isn’t it empty?” Starflight asked, following her with his front talons outstretched. “Are we just going to look at an empty room?”