[Firebringer 03] - The Son of Summer Stars by Meredith Ann Pierce Page A

moonless night with only the light of the stars for a guide. That is why we call them Alma’s eyes, for they limned her path through the dark. All night she sped until she reached the rim of the world, where daily the bright sun launches skyward, traversing the arc of stars which spans the vast ether above. There she lay in the long grass like a pard.
    “Soon she saw him, the splendid sun, his brilliant fire paling the sky. Night faded. The starpath sparked under his galloping hooves. All heaven caught fire, his radiance infusing the air as he rounded horizon’s rim where the starpath ascended. Then the Mare of the World sprang, flying before him, stealing his course. Her shadow fell upon the Plain, racing before the sun. He cried out that any mortal—so he thought—would dare eclipse his light.
    “ ‘Catch me if ever you can, proud sun,’ she taunted.
    “The pinions in her mane lifted to lend her speed. Higher she climbed throughout the morn, as the starpath swelled toward its crest at the apex of the sky. Some stars, by her heels kicked free, fell burning to the earth below. The sun called at her to halt, but she only laughed, her shadow sweeping the Plain. She reached sky’s zenith barely ahead of him, her morning’s slender lead slipping. As they began the long afternoon’s descent down the starpath’s arc, Álm’harat whistled to her birds.
    “ ‘Time to do as I have asked! Aid me if you love me, friends, for only should I best him shall I win him.’
    “The birds rose, carrying the silken strands of the Mare’s mane and tail. These they wove into misty nets to hinder the sun. His anger flashed. He sought to sear the billowing webs from the air, but they only melted into rain, damping his fires, despite all shouts and rumbling. All afternoon the birds played cloud-catch with the sun. Unaware still that she was Álm’harat—but feeling the goddess’s power within—the Mare of the World ran on, barely two paces ahead of the sun.
    “At dusk he caught her, just as they reached the starpath’s terminus at the other end of the world. Far from raging now, the sun had calmed, his fires mellowed. No longer white with heat, they simmered yellow, then rosy, then amber. His temper, too, had cooled in the afternoon rains, for during his pursuit, he had deigned to gaze—truly gaze—upon this seeming mortal for the first time.
    “The toss of her mane and the long curve of her throat, the plain of her back and roundness of her ribs intrigued him. Her sinewy legs and flashing heels dazzled. Her laugh, when she called, had begun to beguile him, so that when he captured her at last, ’twas no longer anger he felt, but another passion, just as ardent, but no cause for fear. His nips upon her flank were gentle, his words inviting, his touch a caress.
    “Yet when he fell upon her, just where the starpath meets the earth and merges with the netherpath—which is also stars, bridging the underside of the world—she ran on. She felt the weight of his belly against her back, the heave and fall of his panting sides, the heat of him infusing her. Her skin glowed, throwing back a cooler radiance borrowed from his. She bore the heft and the heat and the light of him all along the netherpath that curves below, through darkness, seeking dawn.
    “All night they sped mated. All night she carried him, and the sacred children of that union are still being born into this world. The Mare reached dawnpoint again, whence their long race had started a full day before. There the netherpath turns upward to touch easternmost horizon’s rim and the starpath begins its ascent into daylit heaven. Here the sun at long last, conceding defeat, set her free.
    “ ‘You win, wild mare,’ he gasped, breathless. ‘Both this race and my heart. Let us pledge forever, body and soul, and never be parted.’
    “The Mare of the World smiled, for she had remembered now her nature and her name. ‘I am already yours,’ she answered. ‘I am