[Firebringer 02] - Dark Moon by Meredith Ann Pierce Page A

Screaming, the flatbrowed stallion lunged and champed Tai-shan on the shoulder, drawing blood. The dark unicorn struck him away with the flat of his horn.
    “Moonbrow, have done!” the coppery mare called to him urgently. “Thou darest do him no injury. He is sacred to Dai’chon!”
    Tai-shan glimpsed the daïcha dashing forward to intercept the charging purple-plumes. She waved her forelimbs, crying out frantically to the chon. Taking note of her, apparently for the first time, he barked an order and threw up one of his own forelimbs. Lowering their staves, the purple-plumes strayed uncertainly to a stop.
    Eyes red and wild, the umber stallion wheeled and plunged once more at the dark unicorn. Tai-shan reared and threw himself against the other’s side, catching him just as he pivoted. The flatbrow’s hindquarters strained, forehooves pawing the air. The dark unicorn lunged, shifting his whole weight forward hard until, hind hooves skidding, his opponent crashed to the icy ground.
    “Hold,” the dark unicorn cried, springing to press the tip of his horn to the other’s throat. “Enough, I say!”
    Eyes wide, the fallen stallion stared up at him. The other’s red-rimmed nostrils flared. His breaths came in panting gasps. He made as if to scramble away, but Tai-shan pressed his horntip harder.
    “Peace,” he insisted. “I sought no quarrel with you, nor did this mare.”
    Across the yard, the other mares had quieted. They stood silent, astonished. The two-foots as well. Eyes still on the umber stallion, Tai-shan stepped back, horn at the ready.
    “Be off,” the dark unicorn snorted. “And do not think to trouble this mare again while I stand ready in her defense.”
    With a groan, the defeated stallion pitched to his heels and limped away. His two-foot companions came forward cautiously to catch hold of his headgear’s trailing straps. Other two-foots hied the mares from the enclosed yard through the pivoting panel. They disappeared down a passage between two buildings. The crestfallen stallion allowed his escorts to lead him after the mares without further protest. Tai-shan turned back to the coppery mare.
    “Are you hale?” he asked her. “Did he do you much harm?”
    The other gazed on him in seeming wonder. “Naught but a bruise and a gash, my lord Moonbrow,” she murmured. “No more than that.”
    Warily, another two-foot edged toward them along the wooden barrier. The young mare snorted.
    “Sooth, lord,” she exclaimed, “ye must be winged, to have sprung such a height with such ease—and from a standing start!”
    The dark unicorn shook his head, amazed. These hornless daya must be puny jumpers indeed if they found such low barriers any impediment.
    “Tell me,” he asked her, “why did you suffer that other to use you so? No warrior of my race would have stood for such—”
    “Warrior!” the young mare whickered. “Lord, I am no warrior, only the least of the First Stallion’s consorts—so new he hath not even claimed me yet. Only the First Stallion is warrior here, and he hath reigned four years running, defeating all comers at the autumn sacrifice—yet ye overcame him in a trice….”
    Drawing near, the two-foot clucked. The mare turned meekly, as from long habit, and started to go to him.
    “Wait!” Tai-shan exclaimed. “Will I see you—you and your sisters—again?”
    The coppery mare hung back, seemingly torn between the desire to stay and an obligation to accompany the two-foot. He clucked again. The coppery mare shrugged.
    “If our keepers so will.”
    The overcast hung very low and grey. Feathery flakes of snow, the season’s first, had begun to float down through the darkening air. Reluctantly, the coppery mare turned to follow her two-foot escort.
    “Hold, I beg you!” the dark unicorn cried. “Tell me your name.”
    For a moment, glancing back over her shoulder, the other’s chestnut eyes met his. She nickered suddenly, despite the obvious pain of her injured