Lords of Grass and Thunder by Curt Benjamin Read Free Book Online

Just as well. The tattoo on his breast warmed and calmed him to his purpose. Today he would hunt the biggest game of all, and win for himself all that he had wished.
    When they reached the line of trees, they leaped from their horses. The prince took only his short bow, a quiver of arrows, and the knife at his belt. A bow could throw an arrow farther than an arm could throw a short spear. It would drive the point of the arrow deeper than an arm might guide a short spear. Close in, however, a spear offered more control for a lethal first strike. Qutula would need that advantage against his human prey.
    Satisfaction hummed through his body; warm memories of the mystery woman who had come to him in his sleep clung to his skin. If not for the tattoo over his breast, he might have thought her just a dream. But he had asked for a token and refused to question how she had done it with just the prick of her sharp teeth beneath the fragment of jade he wore around his neck. The mark, in the shape of an emerald green bamboo snake, tingled with the promise of new memories to come if he did just this one thing for her. For himself, really.
    Not with his own weapon, however. He fumbled with the ties on his quiver until Bekter raised a quizzical eyebrow.
    “Are you coming, brother? It’s not like you to lag behind when there’s game to be had.”
    “The ties are loose.” Qutula had artfully loosened them, and he showed his brother the quiver, where he was tightening them again. “Go on with the others—I’ll catch up in a few minutes.”
    The rest of their party had already entered the wood, leaving the horses to nibble the leaves from the bushes, but Bekter hesitated. “I can wait.”
    “No, go.” Qutula looked up from his work on the strings with an indulgent smile. “Think of it as a head start, the way we raced as children. I’ll wager a dozen arrows I will still bring down the first game between us!”
    “In that case I’ll match your bet with this bow, and take the advantage!” With a last companionable slap on the shoulder, Bekter headed purposefully into the forest, his clumsy efforts at stealth rustling old leaves as he made his way toward the river.
    Qutula watched him go. He wasn’t worried that Bekter would actually win the bet, but he liked that bow. He didn’t think his brother would accept the prince as fair game, but maybe no one would notice Tayy was missing until he had bagged something for the pot and won the bet. It would give greater credence to his own story as well. If only I had stayed closer to the prince, he rehearsed in his head, if not for that stupid bet, I might have saved him. That would work.
    When he was certain that no one would see him, Qutula glided up to a horse not his own. Hushing her with whispers in her ear, he took the spear from the sheath on Jumal’s saddle. Jumal’s family had suffered reverses in their fortunes in the years since the prince had made his boyhood friendships. No one would stand up to defend him in the khan’s court.
    It seemed to Qutula that Jumal truly loved Prince Tayy, and not only for the place his friendship had gained him at court. In grief for the terrible loss of his beloved prince, he might take his skinning knife to his own gut, saving them all the effort of accusations and denials. And if he didn’t think of it himself, Qutula would be happy to help him along.
    A smile lingered on his lips as he followed his fellow guardsmen into the woods, tracking not the buck or doe of his companions, but the huntsman himself. Prince Tayyichiut.
     
     
     
    L ight, filtered through the highest branches, fell like hangings of gold in the trees. The thick carpet of rotting leaves and pine needles underfoot swallowed the sound of his companions. Tayy wiped a bloom of cold sweat from his forehead and notched an arrow. The last time he’d been alone in a forest, a magician in the shape of a huge bird had sliced his belly open. He’d almost died and some nights the