Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(73)

He became a horse, identical to the one he’d been when we first met. I followed him at a steady jog, my body exhausted but alert. The shallow shapes of faraway mountains had risen up in the distance, and I could tell they would be mighty when we neared.

Another cloud swallowed the moon’s silver light. This time, I rode on Ristriel’s back, my fingers tangled in his dark mane. I hunched low over him, trusting my care to him despite my lack of horsemanship. Wind whisked by me, deafening my ears to everything else. A few raindrops struck my cheeks. At this speed, they pummeled me more like thrown pebbles than beads of water. I smelled the sharp tang of a nearby saltwater lake.

The stars not hidden by clouds watched us, twinkling in wonder.

The mountains, which reminded me of a fabled dragon’s back, grew larger and larger as we neared. The ground hardened, the wild grass and weeds in it becoming lean and sparse. The way became rocky, which would have been a problem for an ordinary horse, but Ristriel trod on, gracefully picking his way through. His neck sweated beneath my hands; were he a ghost, he would not have suffered for the effort. I pressed a kiss to it and whispered words of encouragement, though I’m not sure if he heard me. I had yet to hear any sounds of pursuit; in truth, our escape had seemed too easy.

The mountains grew exponentially, until they stood as massive giants fallen from some ancient war, their bodies turned to stone. Ristriel slowed as the ground inclined toward them. Beneath the stone behemoths, there was not a sliver of moonlight to be seen. I could barely make out the path ahead of us, and I dared not use my abilities to light the way for fear of hurting Ristriel.

An uneven bar of black stood in the mountains ahead of us, not unlike the pupil of a snake. A pass through the cliffs. We moved far faster than any mortal could, but there were limits even to Ristriel’s speed. We could be only halfway to our destination at best. These weren’t the canyons, merely a barrier between us and our hope.

Ristriel saw her before I did; he dug his hooves into the ground, throwing his neck back to keep me from flying over his head. I startled, my skin glowing as the moon for a second before I snuffed it out.

Then I heard thunder.

No, not thunder—the shuffling of boulders as they tumbled down the cliffs. Squinting, I made out their uneven shapes as they came together against the pull of the Earth Mother, forming a body with a small head and massive limbs. The being glowed a pale green where the rocks held together, creating an asymmetrical net of light. The godling herself was at least thirty feet high, and she pushed out her stony arms, blocking our path.

She had no eyes, yet I could feel her watching me.

“Ceris of the Stars and Ristriel of the Skies.” Her voice was gravelly and low. “The Sun searches for you. You may not pass.”

My stomach sank. I tightened my hold on Ristriel’s mane and asked, “You fight for the day?”

“My fight is not with the skies; I only heed the call of other gods while mine slumbers.” She didn’t budge even a hair. “The Sun has called for you, and for he who has stolen time. You will not pass.”

I looked over my shoulder, expecting godlings with nets and harpoons to come running at us any moment. For now, the rocky slopes remained empty.

“Let us pass, please,” I pled to the godling. “I am my own ruler, and he is in my charge.” I indicated Ristriel.

The godling’s green lines brightened. She did not move. I was not sure if Ristriel could overpower her without the light of the moon, and I was afraid to see him try. The mountains were wide and great; we could not simply go around them. Perhaps Ristriel could fly over if we waited for daylight, or follow them to where the moon touched, but I could not go with him if he did.

He stepped back, his coat darkening, as though getting ready to charge.

I slid from his back. He hesitated when I did so. Shifting away from him and closer to the godling, I allowed my skin to glow.

“You will not let me pass?” I repeated, my voice growing hard. “Am I not a mother, like the sleeping god you serve? My daughter and the other stars in the heavens bless all on the Earth Mother, even you. I, who stand for the deaths of thousands of women who relinquished their lives to protect the soil on which you stand. Who have kept stewardship over the Earth Mother since the dawning of Her time.” Bits of dust and rock began to swirl around me—I had not intended to do that, but my words carried emotion, and my powers were still new and unpracticed. “Will you truly stand here and forbid me passage, on the word of a god whose true name you do not know?”

Ristriel stood silent behind me. I watched the godling, and she watched me, for several heartbeats until she lowered her arms.

“You speak well, Star Mother,” she said. “I will let you pass, for your womb and your scars. Your fight is not mine.”

The green light vanished, and the boulders that made her crumbled away, rolling back to where they had come from, across the Earth and up the cliffs, laying the way bare before us, unguarded. My body slackened, sore, as though I had run the distance from Nediah myself.

“I have lived far longer than you,” Ristriel whispered beside me, “but I could not string together such powerful words.”

I lifted my hand and ran my thumb over his muzzle. I had not tried to be clever or poetic, or even brave. I had simply let my heart speak for me.

I climbed atop Ristriel’s back, and we soared through the gorge, desperate to make it to the Losoko Canyons before dawn.