Madbond by Nancy Springer Read Free Book Online Page B

that had opened in the wall of her prison. Korridun had most of the poles down, and she splintered the rest, surging out at the gallop. I trailed along, stumbling, at the end of the rope behind her.
    That was my mistake, to let her get ahead of me. If I had gone out before her and kept her head turned toward me I would have had a hope of controlling her. As it was, I was only a nuisance attached to her, and she commanded the whole forward force of her body with which to throw me off. She careered wildly across the mossy rock, kicking her hind heels high into the air, bucking, throwing her head, trying to snap the rope, and I was dragged after her, staggering in a wild run on my feet at first and a moment later down, dragged on my belly, my back—only the moss saved me from being totally flayed.
    â€œArcher, you fool, let go!” I heard Korridun shout.
    â€œNot on your life,” I muttered between clenched teeth. My will was given over to the combat, my grip locked on the rope.
    The fanged mare reared up against her headstall, almost snatching the lead out of my hands. Sprawling, I caught a glimpse of her ungainly belly and her flailing forehooves as she teetered on her hind legs—then another jolt hit the rope. Korridun. I had not known he was so strong. He flung himself against the taut line, planted his feet and pulled. Taking her off balance as she was, he nearly pulled the mare down! She came to all fours, and in half a moment she leaped away again, but it had been respite enough. I was on my feet, shortening up on the rope, and her head was toward me.
    â€œKor,” I panted, “thanks. Now get out of here before—”
    Before he became tangled in the line. He saw the danger as plainly as I did, dropped to the rock and flattened himself as the rope passed over him, then sprinted for the nearest vantage of safety, a twisted pine, and swung himself up. The mare circled and circled around me at the dead run, still pulling against me with her neck and heavy head while I braced my heels against the rock and pulled back, knowing that if she started away from me again I would lose her. Sometimes, trying to take advantage of me, she would suddenly switch about and change directions, snatching at the rope, trying to reach it with her fangs. But the advantage was all mine, for I shortened up on the line of seal gut each time and refused to give back what I had gained, no matter how she tugged. She was streaming with sweat, wet and foamy as the sea, and for my own part I could feel the salt trickle stinging my bloodied skin, bathing me, though the day was chill. This quiet, constant battle went on for half the day, Kor told me later. I had no thought for time. The circling movement of the mare blurred my sight, dizzying me, and I had long since passed from a screaming agony of my every muscle to a sort of trance. Nor had the mare slowed much in her running that I could tell—
    Without warning of any sort she turned and hurtled toward me. The sudden slackening of the rope staggered me. I nearly fell, and before I knew what was happening she was on me, her head flung up and the muscles on the underside of her neck bulging, her fangs slicing down at me, and only then did she give forth her battle scream of fury.
    I had forgotten about my futile whip. Moreover, there was no time for it. I dodged—I had just that much wit left—I let the force of her charge carry her past me, and as her shoulder hit me I grasped her mane at the withers and leaped, swinging myself up onto her back. You will think that I am boasting, but I am not. There was no bravado left in me. I merely leaped to the only half-safe place left to me, the place where her fangs could not reach me, her back—and it was all slippery with sweat.
    I locked my heels around her barrel and hung on to her mane. I remember she spun like a dust devil, reared and came down stiff-legged. Then I do not remember much more, which is perhaps a