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

madness to make war.
    “Yet we slipped his grasp. Our ears were keen, our limbs fleet. Dreams gave warning, and we scented him in the wind. We traveled in larger bands, avoiding those places he had last been seen. At length, we drove him from our midst—and, having survived this ordeal, we have begun to think all Moondancers fiends.
    “Such is not so. Some of us have sires or dams born to the Ring, who later fled to freedom here. Others have aided such refugees. True, these Ringbreakers disparage the Vale. I little blame them. To speak of it is painful to them. But I will tell you of one I met, many years ago, who was of the Vale and who returned to the Vale, and was no monster, no mad maker of war.”
    All around, Plainsdwellers shifted and swayed, now pricking their ears, their murmurs quieting. Despite his urgency, Jan found himself listening as the other spoke.
    “Many seasons past, when I was a youth with a young beard on my chin, I dreamt one summer under Alma’s eyes of a mare: pale as cloud newly warmed by sunset’s glow, with a mane and tail brilliant red-orange as the poppy flower.”
    The dark prince heard sighs, contented murmurs among the crowd, as though the tale were well known, a favorite. Reluctantly, he settled himself, aware that making his way unobtrusively to Crimson or Ashbrindle now through the hush might prove well-nigh impossible.
    “She, too, was young,” the singer continued. His way of turning, of lifting his head nipped at Jan like a gnat, reminding him of someone he could not quite recall. The star-marked stallion continued. “Gazing upon her in my dream, I sensed that like me, she had never danced the longdance to its end.
    “She lay far to the south, I knew, where the wind blows cool. I set out alone across the Plain. For days I traveled, until I drew near the southern sea that spills green against a golden shore. Tasting salt upon the wind, I halted, knowing Moondancers summer upon that strand. I had no wish to clash with any of that warlike tribe.
    “Night fell, and I saw my love, coming by moondark—yet the light of Álm’harat’s eyes blazed so, I saw her as well as by day. She moved with caution and with speed, casting about as she traveled, ears pricked, scenting the breeze. She was all my dream had promised: dancer’s grace and runner’s gait.
    “With a joyous cry, I leapt to meet her as one would a long-lost friend, unguarded—and nearly lost my life. She screamed and shied, wholly surprised, then met me with a pummeling of hooves and a slashing of horn. I broke off, bewildered. She sprang back, stiff-legged, horn at the ready.
    “ ‘Stand off! Stand off, wild Renegade,’ she shouted. ‘I seek no enmity with you, but I am a warrior born and versed and can defend myself at need.’
    “We both stood wild-eyed, panting, stunned. She, from what must have seemed an ambuscade—I, from the dawning that though she was indeed my vision’s mare, she herself had dreamt no such dream. She knew me not, and sooth, what knew I of her? Until that moment I had not even suspected what now stood clear: she was no Plainsdweller as was I, but a Moondancer strayed from her folk. If she searched for another upon the Plain, that other was not I.
    “I stammered some halting amends. ‘I cry your pardon. I mistook you for a…a friend and meant no harm.’
    “She eyed me warily. At length she said, ‘I, too, seek…a certain friend.’ She hesitated. Then, ‘Perhaps you have news of her.’
    “Carefully at first, then with growing ease, she told me of a belovèd companion who had deserted the Vale. Now each night, she said, she slipped away from her band, ventured onto the Plain, intent upon finding her missing companion and persuading her to return. I listened, lost at times. She assumed I knew all concerning her folk, that I had once been one of them, and that I, too, like her friend, had run away.
    “I told her I knew naught of her friend, that I, like most of my folk, had been