Birth of the Firebringer (ft-1) by Meredith Ann Pierce

Author:Meredith Ann Pierce [Pierce, Meredith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_fantasy
ISBN: 0-02-774610-0
Publisher: Four Winds Press – Macmillian Pub. Co.
Published: 1985-08-14T04:00:00+00:00

Pride of companions,

wonted of fame.

Vouch for her valor,

her heart of a hero,

Fellow of warriors,

fallen in battle:

Rally, remember her name.”

He was no singer, but his voice was young and strong. Jan stopped himself at the last word.

“I don’t know her name,” he said.

“The Mother knows,” said the blue unicorn beside him.

The filly told him, “Álm’harat knows.”

Jan turned, drawn up short again with wonder—though he was already so stunned it almost seemed nothing should surprise him anymore—that any dared speak the truename of Alma here, so openly. He had always been taught that those outside the Ring had cast off the Mother-of-all, had forgotten her.

The plainsdwellers joined him at the Circle’s edge. He saw them dip their heads, going down on one knee first to the fallen mare, then to the pard. Jan blinked, frowning. It was no gesture he had ever seen before. He bowed his own head to the mare, then after a pause, to the grasscat as well. The plainsdwellers rose.

Then the pale orange mare turned to him and went down again on one knee for a moment before him. Jan drew back, not knowing what to make of it.

“My words were harsh to you before, young stranger,” she said, rising. “For that, I ask your pardon. You have honored our dead in accordance with your custom, and that is unlike any southlander I have ever heard of.”

“And you have honored her slain enemy as well, as is fitting,” the blue unicorn said. “That, too, is unlike what we have heard of southlanders.”

“I didn’t,” Jan started. “We don’t….” He stopped and gazed at the three plains dwellers before him. Then he blurted out, “ A gryphon came, a month ago….”

“Gryphon?” the red filly said.

“It’s like a pard,” cried Jan, “but winged.” He caught himself. Why was it so urgent he give these strangers only the truth?

“ ‘Wingcats,’ my mother called them,” the pale mare murmured. “They don’t come here.”

Jan drew breath and made his voice as steady as he could. “We killed it—it had attacked us—but we didn’t bury it. We cast it over the cliff.”

The dark blue unicorn frowned. “That is strange.”

“Why do you dishonor your enemies?” the red filly asked. “Was this wingcat not brave?”

“Is all that is true to its own nature not worthy of honor,” the evening blue said, “being part of the Cycle?”

A kite passed very close overhead. Jan felt the wind of its passing against his brow. He flinched, frowning. “I thought you said you disdained our Circle….”

The Plainsdweller shook his head. “Nay. That is not the Cycle of which I spoke…hist. Come away.”

A kite had alighted on the grass, across the Circle from them. Jan came with them, following the plainsdwellers up the slope. The sky in the south was dark with cloud. More kites were settling on the grass below. The blue unicorn raised his head, his nostrils wide.

“A storm’s in the wind,” he said.

Jan glanced at the sun. “I have to go back,” he told them. “Noon’s almost done.”

“Farewell, then, young stranger,” the evening blue said.

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