[Firebringer 02] - Dark Moon (17 page)

The foreboding that had gripped her earlier, she realized drowsily, portended not the stillbirth of her progeny, but only her own end and that of this aged and withered season, now passing with great gnashing and thundering away. Winter’s deathgrip was broken at last. By morning, the torrential rains would have battered months of snow and ice into muddy slush. Tomorrow would dawn the equinox, first day of the new and long-awaited spring.

“Dai’chon!” they chanted. “Dai’chon!”

The
daïcha
stood to one side of the crowd, flanked by her female companions and her green-plumes. The great crescent of skystuff gleamed silver on her breast. Behind her, the sacred
daya
of the palace milled, coats brushed to gleaming, manes intricately braided. Tai-shan spotted Ryhenna among the rest, her color all coppery fire. She huddled, miserable-seeming.

“Dai’chon!” the crowd shouted. “Dai’chon!”

Tai-shan remembered the arrival of green-garbed keepers to the warm enclosure scarcely an hour before, hustling the
daya
and himself from stable to clifftop through the surging press of celebrants, many of whom had fallen to their knees at the sight of the dark unicorn. Tai-shan cavaled and shook himself as petals and wood shavings, seedpods, and whiskered ears of grain continued to rain down. Even here in the open, the thick, soft carpet of tindery stuff underhoof scarcely muffled the din. The noise on the clifftop was deafening.

“Dai’chon!” the crowd roared. “Dai’chon!”

Before the throng stretched an open space, empty save for a great dais of stone. Offerings heaped its base: provender of every kind, bolts of vivid falseskin, coffers of glinting river stones mixed with little disks of skystuff. Jars of oil and the dark, fragrant juice of crushed berries gave off a sharply aromatic scent. Beyond the platform stretched more open space until the clifftop dropped abruptly away.

“Dai’chon!” ranted the throng, stamping rhythmically. “Dai’chon!”

The
chon’s
purple-plumes held back the crush. Of the
chon
himself, the dark unicorn saw no sign. He stood trapped, purple-badged minions holding twin tethers to the silver halter imprisoning his head. An impassable sea of two-foots surged to one side of him. To the other lay only clifftop and empty air. Storm clouds roiled to the east at horizon’s edge, devouring the rising sun.

“Dai’chon!” the crowd thundered. “Dai’chon—”

Without warning, silence fell. The rhythmic stamping abruptly ceased. Two-foots stood panting, covered with sweat in the cool morning air. Tai-shan’s ears twitched. The stillness seemed to reverberate. Even the restless
daya
quieted. The only sound upon the clifftop now was that of seabirds and the foaming crash of unseen breakers dashing themselves to spume upon the rocks far, far below.

With one accord, the throng parted. A glittering raft, mounted on poles and borne upon the shoulders of eight brawny two-foots, emerged from the press. Hushed onlookers sank to their knees as it passed. Tai-shan recognized the conveyance as that which he had once seen carrying the
chon—
but the figure now seated upon it bore little resemblance to the firekeepers’ king. Drawing even with the dais, the raft’s bearers halted. Its occupant rose and stepped regally onto the high stone platform.

The dark unicorn stared at the creature now turning to face the crowd. Garbed all in black, it carried in one forepaw a vinelike flail, in the other a sharpened skewer. A white crescent moon emblazoned its breast. Yet though its body was that of a two-foot, the head resting upon those square, wide shoulders resembled a
da’s,
all black, with fierce, staring eyes and flared red nostrils. Black mane bristled down the arched and oddly foreshortened neck.

Before it, the great crowd of two-foots cowered. Across the open space from him, Tai-shan saw the coppery mare gazing at the dark figure in open terror. Yet despite its fierce appearance, the monster’s head seemed strangely stiff, the eyes shadowy hollows. The ears did not swivel. Its lips—pulled back to bare square, white teeth—appeared frozen. The dry, red tongue within the gaping mouth never moved. The neck remained rigid. To turn its head, the dark unicorn saw, the figure had to pivot its whole torso.

At a peremptory gesture from the black-clad figure on the platform, the
daïcha
rose and approached. Tai-shan watched as she collapsed to her knees, folded her forelimbs across her breast, and bowed her head. The glowering godking brandished its skewer and cracked its vine. Lifting her forelimbs, the lady called out to the
da
–headed thing. The dark unicorn could decipher only a few phrases: “Emwe, Dai’chon,”
hail, godking.
“Undan ptola,”
by your will.
She seemed to be reciting both a greeting and a pledge.

Dai’chon answered nothing, only nodded its stiff, ponderous head. With a low bow, the
daïcha
withdrew, gesturing to her green-garbed followers. One by one, they led the sacred
daya
before Dai’chon. Pulse hammering, the dark unicorn sidled. His breath came in restive snorts. He could not stand still. No opportunity for escape had yet presented itself: his only choices were plunging over cliff’s edge or trampling the kneeling crowd.

The parade of
daya
before the godking went on and on. Most passed by without a pause, but every so often, Dai’chon snapped its flail, and the keeper then before the dais halted, allowing Dai’chon to scrutinize that particular mare or stallion more closely. The watching crowd seemed to hold its breath.

Usually, the godking cracked its vine a second time; the
da
was returned to the
daïcha,
and the watchers heaved a heavy sigh. Sometimes, however, Dai’chon pointed toward the halted
da
with the skewer, and the kneeling throng murmured with delight as the
daïcha’s
minion then led his charge to the side of the stone platform nearest the cliff. The half dozen
daya
there pranced gaily, tossing their heads. Their keepers were hard-pressed to keep hold of the tethers. Tai-shan stared angrily, helplessly at the joyous
daya:
all blissfully unaware that they celebrated their own approaching death.

Ryhenna was among the last to pass before Dai’chon. The dark unicorn tensed, heart between his teeth, as the godking cracked its flail, signaling the keeper who held the coppery mare’s tether to halt. Ryhenna stood wild-eyed before the platform, so plainly terrified that the dark unicorn half expected her to bolt. But Dai’chon snapped its vine at last and allowed her to pass. Able to breathe again, Tai-shan sighed deep with relief as the coppery mare rejoined the other, unchosen
daya.

The last of the sacred
daya
was led before Dai’chon. With a snort of surprise, Tai-shan recognized Ushuk, the former First Stallion, whom he had defeated upon their first encounter, months ago. The godking seemed barely to notice the umber stallion, remarking his passage without so much as a crack of the flail. Crestfallen, Ushuk faltered in his gait. The
daïcha,
too, seemed puzzled. Her companions glanced at one another.

With halting step, the umber stallion allowed his escort to draw him on, but he gazed back uncomprehendingly at Dai’chon, plainly unable to believe the god would pass him by. The dark figure on the dais gave him not so much as a second glance. Instead, Dai’chon turned toward Tai-shan. Fixing its strange, shadowy eyes on the dark unicorn, the godking snapped its whip.

The whole crowd started. The purple-badged keepers holding the twin tethers of the silver halter stood riveted, clearly astonished by the godking’s summons. Again, impatiently, Dai’chon cracked its vine. Tai-shan saw the
daïcha’s
look of puzzlement change to one of alarm as the
chon’s
minions began to tug him toward the stone platform. The lady took a step forward, as though to intervene, then caught herself. Champing and dancing, Tai-shan suffered himself to be led forward. What choice had he? There was nowhere to run.

His keepers halted before the dais. The lowering face of the godking glared down at him. Cavaling, the dark unicorn laid back his ears. Slowly and deliberately, Dai’chon held out the skewer. The crowd gasped in dismay. A single, bitten-off cry rose from the
daïcha.
Tai-shan saw her standing as though stunned, one hand to her lips. Her companions behind her murmured wide-eyed, some shaking their heads.

Suddenly, the
daïcha
was striding forward. She looked both angry and afraid. Halting before the dais, she cried out to the godking in exhortation and appeal. She seemed to be pleading with the figure above, very vehement. Tai-shan backed and sidled, pulling the
chon’s
purple-badged minions with him. The godking, still clutching its skewer and flail, stood with forepaws upon its hips. Slowly, silently, it shook its head at the
daïcha
and gestured once more with the skewer toward the dark unicorn.

Obediently, the pair of keepers tried to guide their cavaling charge toward the half-dozen chosen
daya
waiting on the far side of the dais. Snorting, Tai-shan braced himself, set his heels. The
daïcha
cried out again, desperately. She looked as though she might rush up the stone ramp flanking one side of the platform to confront the godking face to face.

Angrily, Dai’chon gestured toward a knot of purple-plumes, who started forward as though to pull the lady back from the dais. Drawing their weapons, her own green-plumed followers hastened to intercept them. With a shout, the
daïcha
threw up one forelimb to halt her followers, shaking her head. Both parties milled uneasily, the purple-plumes clearly reluctant to lay hands upon the lady, even at the order of Dai’chon, the green-plumes seemingly unwilling to clash unless their leader were more explicitly threatened. The godking turned once more toward Tai-shan.

“Flee, my lord Moonbrow!” Across the yard from him, Tai-shan saw Ryhenna rear up suddenly among her fellows. “Flee
now
–ere the god ordereth his
chon’s
guard to drive thee over the cliff!”

All around her,
daya
shied in confusion. Startled two-foots scattered. Their cries amid the sudden commotion halted Dai’chon, his skewer and flail half-raised. Ramping and flailing, the coppery mare plunged through the sacred herd. In the same instant, Tai-shan wrenched free of his keepers’ grasp and wheeled to face the sacrificial
daya.

“Run! Run, all of you!” he shouted. “Only death lies beyond the drop. Flee for your lives!”

Between the platform and cliffs edge, the sacrificial
daya
danced anxiously, tossing their heads violently and rolling their eyes. They seemed more afraid of him than of their own captors, the dark unicorn realized in dismay. Two-foot keepers stroked and soothed their skittish charges. At an impatient gesture from Dai’chon, Tai-shan saw his own pair of keepers starting toward him. With a peal of rage, the dark unicorn flew at them. Shouting, they scrambled away through the scattered hay and wood shavings. Behind, the sacrificial
daya
shied. Keepers grasped halter leads in both forepaws, struggling to hold them.

On the stone platform before them, Dai’chon cried out. Tai-shan spun around, startled to hear the godking’s voice for the first time. It was low-pitched and strangely muffled, like a cry from deep underhill. The godking gestured with its skewer, and several of the purple-plumes cast aside their staves, rushing Tai-shan with forelimbs outstretched to catch his tethers. The dark unicorn charged them, lashing with his forehooves. The purple-plumes dodged, crying out in fear. Across from him, many of the
daya
around Ryhenna had already bolted. Others now fought their tethers, screaming to break free.

Tai-shan saw the
daïcha’s
green-garbed followers striving desperately to hold and calm what
daya
they could. Their lady stood poised, as though uncertain. Then all at once, she rushed to snatch a tether from her minion’s grasp. Shouting, she struck the frightened mare across the flank, sending her careening away after the others that had broken free. Calling sharply to the rest of her followers, the
daïcha
dashed among the remaining
daya,
waving her forelimbs and hying the last of the skittish beasts to bolt. The throng about the palace surged to their feet and erupted in chaos as stampeding
daya
hurtled through their midst.

Tai-shan circled, making to herd the sacrificial
daya
away from cliff’s edge. Dai’chon’s muffled shouts and angry gestures continued. More of the
chon’s
purple-plumes responded, some turning to chase fleeing
daya,
others coming on toward Tai-shan. At a shout from the
daïcha,
her own green-plumed guards hastened to form a line before the advancing purple-plumes to prevent their reaching the dark unicorn. Ushuk thundered past just as the green-plumes closed ranks.

“Blasphemer!” the umber stallion shouted, storming toward Tai-shan. “How darest thou defy the will of the god?”

The dark unicorn ducked and fell back, too surprised at first to defend himself.

“Homat!
Ushuk, stop!” Tai-shan heard Ryhenna crying. She, too, had broken through the
daïcha’s
line of green-plumes. “Did thy first encounter with black Moonbrow teach thee nothing? Thou’rt overmatched!”

The umber stallion responded with a growl. “Cursed mare, to join this
punuskr
–this demon—in defiance of Dai’chon. Thou shalt share his fate!”

Again he flew at the dark unicorn. Once more Tai-shan dodged and fell back, sidestepping the abandoned conveyance resting on the ground before the godking’s dais, its bearers long since fled.

“I served the godking joyfully all my days,” the umber stallion cried, his eyes wide and bloodshot, the snorted spray from his nostrils flecked with blood. “In the end I proved unworthy, and he cast me aside. Yet still I worship and adore him.
Dai’chon undan ptola
–the godking’s will be done!”

Ushuk lunged, flailing recklessly at Tai-shan. Unwilling to use his horn against a flatbrowed adversary, the dark unicorn reared and threw one shoulder against the other. Ushuk’s hind hooves skidded on the soft, slippery carpet of wood shavings. One pole of the
chon’s
raft caught his legs. Thrashing, the umber stallion toppled. Tai-shan heard the
daïcha’s
horrified cry as, squealing in pain, Ushuk struggled up from the chaff and tinder, one foreleg shattered.