Wings of Fire Book Four: The Dark Secret

“Not a problem,” Fatespeaker said. “I mean, we are.”

 

 

Starflight guessed that she rarely had trouble with her confidence. Now he just had to follow his own advice. And he had to hope that the news hadn’t gotten here from the council chamber yet — that these guards wouldn’t know about the planned attack tonight.

 

They landed just inside the cave mouth, staggering forward under Flame’s weight. The red dragonet slid slowly to the ground. He looked groggy and close to fainting.

 

“Stay with us,” Starflight said to him, squeezing one of Flame’s talons.

 

“What is the meaning of this?” growled the biggest NightWing guard. He paced forward to loom over them, glaring at Flame in particular.

 

Here we go, Starflight thought. Maybe all those games of pretend we used to play will turn out to be useful after all.

 

“Didn’t you get the message? I knew that would happen,” he said. He wanted to sound bold and authoritative, like Tsunami, but his voice sounded higher and more anxious than he’d hoped. So work with that. It makes sense that I’d be anxious about this plan. If I can’t be Tsunami, then try to convince them as Starflight — the nervous know-it-all. He pointed at Flame. “This is one of the dragonets of the prophecy. As you can see, he was slashed by a SandWing tail today.”

 

Starflight peeled up the bandage a little so the guards could see the oozing wound underneath. All of them let out a collective gasp of horror and stepped back.

 

Starflight straightened and folded his wings. “The venom is extremely deadly. The queen has ordered us to take him through to the rainforest and from there to the Kingdom of Sand to find a cure.”

 

“You?” said the head guard skeptically.

 

“I know, I was nervous about the whole idea, too,” Starflight said, hoping they’d believe that was why his talons were shaking. “But she said I’m the only NightWing who won’t be attacked or chased away by the dragonets in the rainforest. They know me. They’ll think I’m on their side. Can you imagine — a NightWing being friends with a SeaWing or a MudWing? Or a RainWing, of all creatures?” A few of the guards were nodding, but the biggest one didn’t look convinced.

 

“I’ll have to verify this order,” the big guard said, signaling one of the other dragons forward.

 

“Of course you do,” Starflight said, letting his panic spill into his voice a little. “I said this would happen! She’s going to be so angry,” he said to Fatespeaker, then turned back to the guard. “I told them you’d delay us by sending someone back to the fortress. I told them this SkyWing would be dead before we got through! But nobody listens to me. Her Majesty said you’d take one look at him and understand the urgency, and that I shouldn’t worry.” He wrung his claws together. “But of course I was right to worry. I’m always right about worrying.”

 

“Um,” said the guard. He was starting to look almost as nervous as Starflight felt. “He’s really that close to dead?”

 

“It’s all right,” Starflight said, rubbing his head anxiously. “I’d do exactly the same thing in your place. She’ll probably kill all of us, but what else could you do?” He nodded at the messenger. “Go ahead. You can tell her it doesn’t really matter, since he’ll be dead by the time you return.” He nudged Flame with one toe. The SkyWing obligingly looked even more like a dying fish.

 

“But he can’t die,” Fatespeaker jumped in, as if she’d been having this argument with Starflight the whole way here. “He’s the only SkyWing we’ve got. Without him, no prophecy, no plan, no rainforest home for our tribe.”

 

The guards behind the leader were starting to mutter and crane their necks to peer at Flame.

 

“But he has to check the order,” Starflight argued back. “What’s he going to do, just let two NightWing dragonets wander through the tunnel with a SkyWing? Why, we might — we might —” He paused, then looked at the guard. “What are you worried we’ll do?”

 

“Well, I don’t know,” he said, shifting his spear from talon to talon. “I’m just following protocol.”

 

“See?” Starflight said to Fatespeaker. “Protocol.”

 

Flame wheezed in a dying-gasp kind of way.

 

“We gotta let them through, chief,” said one of the guards. “The queen is right — this dragonet is the only one who can get into the rainforest. That’s where we grabbed him from. He can get that SkyWing to the cure. No one else can.”

 

Starflight gave her a grateful look that was entirely heartfelt.

 

The head guard flexed his claws with an uneasy expression. “No funny business,” he said to Starflight. “You fix that SkyWing and come back.”

 

“We’ll be back by nightfall,” Fatespeaker promised. “Maybe we’ll even learn something about what they’re planning over there. They’ll probably tell this one everything.” She jerked her head at Starflight. “He’s got them wrapped around his tail, from what I hear.”

 

“Makes sense,” said another guard.

 

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