Read To Ride the Gods’ Own Stallion for Free Online

graceful move, leaped onto the stallion. Soulai frowned at the bronze spurs he spotted tied to the young nobleman’s sandals. Ti hardly required motivation. Lifting his arm in the air, Habasle led the way out of the courtyard. The archers, the mastiffs, and Soulai followed obediently.
    Soulai knew he should relax astride his mount; he just couldn’t make his body do it. His fingers gripped both reins as well as a good hank of mane. And his knees kept searching for a niche to lock into. But when something in the half-light caused the bay to snort and dance sideways, Soulai not only managed to stay on, but also to rein the animal back in line. For a moment the pleasure of sitting atop such a powerful creature quelled his own trembling.
    The early morning entourage left the palace through a massive gate, traveling down the curving ramp and along the walled passageway, which was eerily empty in the predawn. The zoo’s animals remained silent, as if they sensed the hunters. As they skirted the marketplace, where vendors were just arriving, Soulai caught the whiff of meat grilling. The aroma, normally enticing, stirred his unsettled stomach to nausea.
    One of Nineveh’s fifteen gates loomed ahead and the line halted while Habasle spoke to two guards. Soulai heard his voice rise in a sharp, arrogant tone, then saw the men abruptly step back and let Habasle pass. One by one they filed through the arched opening in the thick inner wall, then passed through the well-guarded outer one. Ishtar, the goddess of Nineveh, protected her city well, Soulai thought as he rode through the tunnel of bricks.
    As soon as they had crossed the moat, Habasle turned south. A grassy plain stretched before them, rolling gently toward the ribbon of trees lining the Tigris River to the west and the manicured banks of the Khosr directly ahead. A hazy yellow sun had blossomed behind the city’s jagged silhouette, a breath of warm air touched Soulai’s neck.
    So far, no one except Habasle had spoken. The archers walked behind him in pairs, while the houndmen followed, struggling with every step to control the two mastiffs. Soulai brought up the rear. He noted that Habasle frequently glanced over his shoulder, but when he himself did so, he saw nothing. There was no time to ponder the matter for, just as they were climbing a small rise, a lion’s throaty roar split the morning like thunder.
    Both horses snorted and Soulai jumped. Habasle calmly motioned for Soulai to move forward and for the archers to fan out on either side of him.
    Atop the rise, Soulai looked down upon a wooden crate set amid the emptiness of the flatland. A piteously small slave stood uncertainly beside it; another crouched on top of it. Soulai recognized the crate as the one he had seen dragged in and out of the zoo, and he guessed its occupant. Another roar sounded and the wooden box rattled. The man on top jumped off, saw Habasle, and climbed back on, where he huddled like a frightened rabbit.
    Motioning for Soulai to stay put, Habasle led the archers down the slope. The barking mastiffs followed, dragging the handlers in their wake. After some two hundred paces, the procession stopped; the men pulled arrows from their quivers and knelt in the yellowed grasses.
    Suddenly Habasle turned and cantered back. Soulai envied how well Ti behaved for him.
    â€œYou ride at my side,” his owner called when he got close, “but stay out of my aim. It’ll go like this: I’ll drop my arm and the lion will be released. In a count of three, the dogs will be released. Once they engage the lion, I’ll ride forward, you at my side—but out of my way—understand?” Soulai forced a nod. “I’ll dispatch the lion with my spear, straight down his gullet. I don’t know this horse—”
    â€œTi,” Soulai offered.
    Habasle glared and Soulai remembered the warning about not speaking. He swallowed hard. “The horse is young, I