And yet, more than for any other reason, she had held her tongue for Lell. On the night of her initiation, long before either of her children’s births, Ses had seen not only her destiny to bear the herd a Firebringer, but another to come after him: a wingèd thing. What her filly’s dream pinions might mean, the pale mare could not guess. But she had named her daughter Álell, Wing. Regardless of her firstborn’s fate, the poppy-maned mare trusted her filly was safe, secure in the care of the Free Folk of the Plain, three days’ journey from this war.

She fought on. The dust of battle rose all around, a white haze. The figures surrounding her seemed pale as haunts. Sky above now edged from golden into flame. The unicorns had secured most of the entries to the wyverns’ dens, she saw, preventing retreat back under the earth. The wyrms lay slain by heaps and dozens about the shelves. Her own folk’s losses, she noted with relief, were fewer than the wyrms’. The unicorns had formed a solid line, pushing the wyverns slowly, inexorably toward the Plain.

The wyrms’ resistance was frenzied. After initial panic at the arrival of the stranger roans, some among the wyvern horde had rallied. Had they yielded, or rushed headlong with their companions for the Plain, Ses was certain Tek would have spared further bloodshed and let them go. But all who remained refused surrender. Seven-headed Lynex, surrounded by bodyguards, shrieked with multiple shrill voices at the remains of his horde to fight to the death and not to yield.

Where was his fire, the pale mare wondered? All her life she had heard of wyverns hoarding flame, stolen from the red dragons so many years ago. Yet the foe had not used the deadly stuff even once this day. In dousing the wyrmqueen’s flame years past, had her firstborn robbed the wyverns of all they possessed? She could not say. She only knew Lynex wielded none as he towered above the wedge-shaped attack formation led by Tek.

His bodyguards writhed and reared, striving to keep Tek’s warriors at bay, but one by one, the double-headed guardians were being seized and pulled down. Of the great scarred wyrmking’s original score, only a dozen remained. The odd-colored strangers, who called themselves Scouts of Halla, rallied around Tek, aiding her assault against the seven-headed wyrm. They fought tirelessly, like creatures possessed. Their leader, a small maroon stallion, conferred with the pied mare and followed her commands, singing out to his followers in a ringing chant that was nothing like the piercing whistles Vale unicorns used.

For what did Lynex wait? Why did he still fight on? Ses could not fathom him. The golden-orange sky above grew more and more intensely flame. A sudden commotion interrupted her thoughts. She wheeled, half expecting to find wyverns had broken her fellows’ ranks, gotten behind her somehow. Instead, she saw a unicorn stallion come charging around the cliffside onto the battlefield. He cast feverishly about with the look of one taking no part in the fray, but desperately seeking among the fighters.

He was tall and lean and long-maned. The gloom of the cliff’s shadow muted his coloring. From the toss of his head, from his gait and stance, she thought for one wild instant he was Jan. Then the actual hue of his coat registered: midnight blue scattered with silvery stars. A shock went through her: Calydor! What could his purpose be? Like his fellows, he had refused to join this fray, agreeing only to ward those of the Vale too young or old or infirm to fight. Spotting the pale mare now, Calydor sped toward her.

“Ses,” he cried. “Is she here? Is she with you?”

With the wyvern directly before her now dead, the pale mare turned to meet the Plainsdweller.

“What do you mean?” she panted. “Whom do you seek? Why are you not with Lell and the others? “

Searching still, the star-covered stallion pitched to a halt. “’Tis your daughter I seek! We discovered her missing the morn after your warhost departed.”

“Missing?” exclaimed Ses. “What, how…?” Her balance reeled.

“We combed the oasis, but found no trace—no pards,” he told her quickly. “I am certain she followed the host. Did she catch you up? Have you seen her?”

“Come to enter the fray?” Ses cried, fear thudding against her heart. “My Lell is no match for these monstrous wyrms! She’s but a filly—and each of them larger than a full-grown warrior…”

Hastily, she, too, began to scan the battle. The wyrmhorde teetered on the brink of overthrow. In time, the unicorns’ steady forward push would surely overwhelm them. But time, she realized, noting the brilliant color of the sky, might be what the unicorns did not have. As soon as the sun sank away, all odds might change. If Lynex could hold on just so long… Beside her, the star-strewn stallion spoke.

“You have not seen her? She is not among you here?”

“Nay,” the pale mare gasped, nearly frantic now, aware that simply because she had not laid eyes on Lell amid the day’s mayhem did not mean her daughter had not hurled herself foolishly into the fray. Even impervious to wyverns’ venom, the amber filly could still easily have been torn to bits by their teeth or claws. Calydor’s brow furrowed.

“Mayhap she did not last this far,” he murmured. Ses wheeled to stare at him. He swiftly added, “She may have had sense enough to abandon her wild scheme, to turn back, and I missed her. By my reck, even with pards, she’s safer on the Plain than amid this slaughter…”

Sudden shrill whinnying caught their attention. Whirling, Ses saw one of the wyrmking’s bodyguards deserting, thrashing to break free of the attacking unicorns and make its escape. Scouts of Halla fell upon it as it rushed by. Frenetically, it shook them off. Several gave chase while the rest sprang after Tek, who now pressed forward in a fury, fighting toward Lynex as the sunset sky caught fire. The wyvern king and his ten surviving guards cursed their fleeing companion.

The enormous wyrm was coming straight toward her, Ses realized with a start. A day of battle had dulled her wits. She felt Calydor spring past her to intercept the wyrm, moving with a grassbuck’s strength and speed. Coming as it did from one who once so coolly championed flight over combat, his action caused her an instant’s surprise. Then she saw that pressed as the pair of them were, so close against the limestone cliff, no room remained for flight.

Ses sprang after the blue-and-silver stallion. She dived at the great wyvern’s tail, impaling its poison tip as it swung around toward Calydor. Her horn grated, sparking against the ground. It occurred to her what risk the singer had taken, venturing the battlefield in search of Lell, unprotected as he was from white wyrms’ stings. As the pale mare pinned the wyvern’s tail, the star-strewn stallion stabbed upward under its gaping jaw. Already the other of its two heads lay dead.

Once more realization came: Calydor did not possess fire-tempered hooves or horn, could not have pierced the bony breastplate protecting the monster’s heart if he had tried. She heard the wyrmking’s guardian give a high-pitched scream. It stiffened. Calydor shook free, sprang away from the dying creature’s flailing claws as it toppled. Ses braced herself, kept her horn firmly planted in the creature’s thrashing tail lest the Plainsdweller be struck by a reflexive sting.

“Look to your leader! Hie, Tek! Tek,” Calydor was shouting, sprinting suddenly toward the black-and-rose mare. Ses, too, leapt away, leaving the wyvern for others to finish. She had seen what Summer Stars had seen: Tek and her battlemates smashing through the ring of bodyguards at the weak point opened when the traitor fled. The Scouts formed a blunt wedge that shoved into the opening, forcing the guards farther and farther apart. The wedge then split, each half continuing to press outward, creating a corridor.