Dark Moon

Behind him, he heard Ryhe

“Tash! ‘Omat!” shouted Tai-shan, vaulting onto the high stone platform.

He lunged to catch the skewer’s length against his horn and bat it away. With a cry, Dai’chon fell back, releasing Ryhe

“The chon! The chon,” Ryhe

Similar screams came from the stampeding daya. Shrieks and wails rose from the scattering two-foots as well. Eyes wide with betrayal, faces drawn with shock, the commonfolk of the city scrambled to flee. Yet the two-foots of the palace reacted differently. The daïcha’s companions and her green-garbed followers, plumed guards of both colors as well as the chon’s purple-badged underlings, while clearly outraged at their ruler’s unmasking, did not seem the least surprised to discover their mortal leader impersonating a god. Even the daïcha, the dark unicorn realized in astonishment, had known all along.

A stinging welt across one shoulder brought Tai-shan sharply around. The chon had lunged at him again, slashing with the skewer and lashing with the flail. The dark unicorn dodged, back-stepping. Ryhe

“My lord Moonbrow, the edge!”

Wheeling, Tai-shan sprang away barely in time. The chon had sought to drive him backward over the stone platform’s brink. Shouting, the two-foot ruler pursued him across the dais, cracking the stinging lash. As the dark unicorn ducked, the lash coiled itself about his horn. With a heave of neck and shoulders, Tai-shan jerked it from the two-foot’s grasp and slung it spi

“ ‘Ware the chon’s guard!” Ryhe

Tai-shan glimpsed a handful of purple-plumes breaking through the daïcha’s green-plumed defenders to rush the dais. Ryhe

His hooves grew hot. Churning and plunging through the dry stuff strewn about the platform, he felt his heels striking the flinty stone beneath. Flashes of white and amber light leapt from his hooves. More flashes showered down as his horn grated against the skewer of the chon. Sparks! Sparks of fire were falling from his horn as it struck against the skystuff—more springing up from his hooves as they skidded on the stone: sparks such as he had once seen leap from the tools of the two-foot firesmith. Now his own hooves and horn were doing the same! Astonished, the dark unicorn stared.

“Look! Look!” Ryhe

Lighting upon the platform’s thick carpet of dry hay, withered flower petals, and aromatic wood shavings, the sparks began to smolder. Black storm clouds were fast sweeping in across the sea. A warm, wet wind picked up. Bits of burning chaff gusted from the dais to the open space below, catching in the dried stuff there. A thick pall of smoke rose, filling the air with cinders. Plumed two-foots of both colors tore off their outer falseskins and flailed at the spreading flames.

Choking, the chon covered his mouth and nose with one forepaw—yet still he fought. Tai-shan clashed and countered, gasping for breath, until in a furious assault, he drove the two-foot ruler to one knee and disarmed him with a parry that knocked the skewer from his grip and sent it, like the flail before it, spi

“Tash! Tash so bei!” The daïcha rushed past Ryhe

Tai-shan knew she must be saying, No, don’t kill him. Don’t kill my king.

Fury burned in the dark unicorn. At that moment, he wanted nothing other than to skewer the treacherous two-foot ruler—but the daïcha stood suppliant before him, and he owed her his life. Forehooves touching the ground once more, Tai-shan shook himself. A kind of silence fell around him. With great difficulty, summoning all the agility of lips and teeth not made to frame such speech, he strove to pronounce clearly the words of the firekeepers’ tongue.

“Undan ptola, daïcha,” he told her. As you wish.

The others eyes widened. She gazed at the dark unicorn as though unable to believe her ears. The purple-plumes below the dais stood halted in wonder. The green-plumes, too, had heard. They stood staring. Beyond them, the daïcha’s companions sank to the ground, two of them weeping. On the dais, ashen-faced, the chon shook his head.

“Tash,” he gasped. “Tash—ipsicat!”

Tai-shan did not recognize the second word, but he could guess its meaning: No. No—impossible. The chon made as if to rise.

“Tash! ‘Omat!” the dark unicorn ordered. No. Stop. “Himay.” Keep still.

The chon choked out something else, too fast for Tai-shan to follow. What was he saying now, the dark unicorn wondered, that daya–even miraculously horned, outland daya–ought not be able to speak?

“Jima ‘pnor!” That’s enough, the dark unicorn commanded, cutting the chon off as he spoke.” Asolet.” Silence. Again the other made to rise, but the dark unicorn stopped him with a feint of his horn. “Tash bim!”

He did not know the phrase for Come no nearer and so had to settle for Do not come. Tai-shan stamped angrily, galled by his lack of words.