The Horse Road by Troon Harrison Read Free Book Online Page A

scent, but others stamped a back hoof warningly and flattened their ears.
    When I climbed in the corral, Gryphon rested his muzzle momentarily against my shoulder, breathing long warm breaths into my hair, before dropping his head again to graze. I saw how the flesh of the wounds was drying, dark red and beginning to crust with scabs. Claw marks ran from his spine to his hock, and from where the edge of his saddle blanket would fall to the base of his tail. One wound ran through his five-pointed brand. All the blood had been washed from him and he seemed more interested in grass than in his injuries, although I noticed how he moved his hind legs stiffly, taking only small steps. I laid my palm flat beside his wounds, with the lightest oftouches, and held it there, feeling the slight heat that ran beneath his skin.
    â€˜He will be scarred for life; his coat will grow in white,’ Batu said, coming up behind me to lean against the wooden rails.
    â€˜I do not want him scarred,’ I whispered brokenly. ‘Before, his coat was perfect.’
    â€˜Everyone who saw him spoke of his beauty but from now on they will speak of his beauty and his courage; he is a warrior among horses,’ Batu said. ‘We are riding out soon.’
    I turned then, my palm sliding away from Gryphon.
    The flat scales, each one hand-carved from hoof, each one sewn on to the leather helmet and breastplate that Batu wore, made him shine like a freshly caught fish. His bow was slung over one shoulder, and his wooden quiver, beautifully decorated with bright paintings, hung against his thigh and held his bronze-tipped arrows. The feathers on their shafts were perfectly aligned; perfect in their flight as eagles when they stoop, deadly and with rushing speed, upon their smaller prey.
    â€˜You are riding with the warriors?’ I asked, the bottom dropping out of my stomach.
    Batu nodded, a gleam of delight in his keen gaze. At the base of his throat, he wore a twisted torc, heavier than mine but of similar design. The eyes on the heads of the leopards were inlaid with carnelian.
    â€˜Take me with you! I can shoot a bow, Batu; you know that my mother has taught me! I can ride aswell as any of you; you have seen me win games mounted on Swan! Gryphon is excitable, but very fast, and he is sound despite his wounds!’
    Batu shook his head. ‘Your father would never forgive me, and my father would not allow it,’ he said. ‘And Gryphon’s wounds would break open if he even trotted. You must care for your mother and stay here in safety.’
    â€˜But Swan! I must save Swan!’
    â€˜I will look for her when we ride through the valley on our way to Ershi. I will make sure she is safe. Now I am going to find Rain, and soon we ride out. Goodbye, Kalli; I will pray that your mother recovers.’
    Briefly, his hand touched mine through the rails but I didn’t move; I stood speechless as he walked away through the horses, light on his feet, calling to the other warriors as they bridled their mounts. I saw him move close to Rain, his black and white gelding foaled in a spring of floods and now trained as a buzkashi horse. I watched the gelding slip his white face – with its one blue eye and one brown eye – down into the leather thongs of Batu’s bridle. Its decorative florets of bronze winked in the light. Gryphon tore at the grass beside me as Batu laid a yellow blanket over Rain’s withers and slid it back a fraction, smoothing the hair beneath. He bent to tighten the blanket’s belly band, then fastened the tail crupper and the breastplate. The red tassels hanging from the breastplate, and from the edges of theblanket, bobbed like flowers in the breeze. Rain was a splendid sight, and Batu’s greatest pride, for the nomads loved horses with bright, unusual markings.
    I laid my hand on the arch of Gryphon’s bent neck as Batu mounted Rain, and pulled his white face up out of the grass.