Read Online To Ride the Gods’ Own Stallion by Diane Lee Wilson - Free Book Online

starved with him. How could he eat when Ti was dying?
    Kneeling beside him each night, Soulai stroked the horse’s flanks, mumbling prayers and pouring out his love. He touched the crest of Ti’s drooping neck, let his fingers skim down the broad forehead and across the veins of his cheek. There was no punishing nip. As he memorized each facet of the stallion’s face, Soulai felt the creative fire returning to his hands. He recalled that he had once been able to breathe life into shapeless clay, and the rhythm of his strokes quickened. With keen concentration, then, he began kneading and rubbing and polishing Ti’s body, willing the spark of life to take hold.
    Gradually the animal’s appetite improved, and after some time he was able to stand for the greater part of the day. Soulai heaved a sigh of relief, yet one that was not completely without worry. For while he had been able to rub a shine back into Ti’s coat, the horse’s spirit remained lackluster. He did prick his ears now when Soulai approached, and he even sounded an occasional nicker of gratitude, but otherwise he showed no interest in the world around him. It was Mousidnou who had suggested that before the evening’s chores a walk outside the stable might do the stallion good.
    A rising cheer from the grounds caused the horse that Mousidnou led to lift his head, but Ti only cocked an ear. The head charioteer had loosed his blue-black stallions along the armory’s curving inside track and the driver nearest him was urging his pair into the contest. The two men exchanged grins as they slapped their reins and their teams stretched into a pounding gallop. Shouts erupted from the soldiers as the horses took a dangerously wide sweep around the end of the grounds, scattering dogs and men. They raced wheel to wheel the length of the field, careened around the far turn, and came charging up on the rows of chariots in training maneuvers. Several of the horses in harness reared and bucked in attempts to join the gallop.
    The teams slowed. The race was over and the two men reined their horses into line with the front row of chariots. Just as both teams came to a blowing, prancing walk, however, the head charioteer whistled to his horses and they sprang again into full gallop, leaving a thick cloud of dust over their challenger.
    The dark stallions came surging around the turn again, and this time pulled to a halt right in front of Soulai and Mousidnou. Ti shied away. As Soulai soothed him with a calming hand, he admired the magnificent, sweat-slickened animals harnessed to the chariot. Their manes, shiny as the feathers of a glossy ibis, fell from bulging crests. The whites of their eyes flashed as they tossed their heads and champed their bits. Every muscle in their bodies was chiseled like a warrior’s.
    Mousidnou congratulated the charioteer, who grinned and nodded respectfully in return. But the smile vanished when he saw Ti.
    â€œIsn’t this the young stallion marked by Ninurta?” He jumped out of his chariot, tossing a look of alarm at Soulai as he stomped past. “I thought I told you to look after him!” Ti responded to the agitation by snorting and pulling away, and the man wisely slowed his approach. He circled the nervous animal, shaking his head as he took in the injuries. “What in the name of the wind demon happened?”
    Soulai looked to Mousidnou in a silent plea for help, but the stable master remained stone-faced.
    â€œWell?” the charioteer demanded. “How did you let this happen, boy?”
    â€œIt was a lion, but I didn’t—” Soulai began.
    â€œA lion? You took this horse after lions—at his age? By whose order?”
    Again Soulai glanced toward Mousidnou, but the man’s attention seemed to be focused on other chariot maneuvers.
    â€œHabasle’s.” Soulai’s voice cracked, though a thrill ran through him as he placed the blame.
    For all his