To Ride the Gods’ Own Stallion by Diane Lee Wilson

trying to escape the cruel pressure on his bridle.
    â€œ Your horse.” The ashipu spat. “You insolent cur. He’s been royally bred for royalty only. And now I’ve chosen him for sacrifice.”
    â€œIf you try to harm this horse, I’ll cut out your heart and feed it to you.”
    Soulai, creeping closer, saw the ashipu’s black eyes narrow. The man drew himself up. Summoning his evil powers, Soulai thought. The night air seemed to grow strangely thin and Soulai could scarcely breathe.
    â€œYour ill manners profess your ill breeding.” Light from the half-moon glinted on the blade of a knife pulled from the ashipu’s robe. In one quick motion he grasped Ti’s headstall and laid the silvery blade against the white throat. Ti snorted but stood as still as stone, as if under a spell. Even Annakum, who had kept up a steady growl, fell silent.
    Habasle immediately dropped the reins, which swung noiselessly in the darkness. He took one retreating step, then another. He switched his spear to his right hand, calmly leveled it to his waist, and eyed the distance to the ashipu’s belly.
    The red-robed man smiled. Still staring at Habasle, he slowly drew the knife across Ti’s hide so that a dark trickle spread through the hairs. He shook his head. “Not a wise choice, little bat. Now put it down.”
    Habasle hesitated. Then he turned and defiantly hurled the spear into the night. No one spoke until they heard it clank to the ground.
    The smile never left the ashipu’s face. “You,” he said to Habasle, “and you,” indicating Soulai, “are going to assist me in a much-needed cleansing ritual.”
    But as the ashipu had drawn his knife, Soulai had begun creeping around to the chestnut’s other side. He hoped they wouldn’t notice him leaning his body into the horse. The pressure signaled the stallion to step toward Ti. Ears twitched. Muscles tightened. Soulai held his breath and leaned again. The chestnut swung his hip forcefully around this time, bumping against Ti. The old feud was rekindled and the parti-color stallion lashed out with both hooves. Humping his back, the chestnut returned the blows, kicking again and again. Ti bellowed and spun sideways, and the knife fell from the ashipu’s hand.
    Encumbered by his long robe, the man tried to evade the flailing hooves of the fighting stallions while searching for the lost dagger. Just as he found it, however, Annakum’s jaws clamped onto his naked wrist. The huge dog shook his head and the man crumpled, shrieking in pain.
    Habasle grabbed Ti’s reins and yanked him away from the fight. In one leap he was on the stallion’s back and drumming his legs along his flanks. They sped toward the city’s walls.
    Soulai yanked sharply on the lead rope of the angry chestnut. In desperation, he jumped for the horse’s back, managing to get only one knee locked over the withers before the animal bolted. The rope fell from his hands. All too aware of the rough ground rushing beneath him, Soulai grabbed for the mane and tried to pull himself upright. With a final, all-out effort he heaved his body atop the galloping stallion, crouched low, and ordered his quivering legs to squeeze tight.
    One of Nineveh’s main entrances, the Nergal Gate, lay directly ahead, but Habasle steered Ti toward a smaller one, which had a door standing ajar and a lone guard waiting nervously beside it. Having neither reins nor lead rope, Soulai felt lucky that his galloping mount veered in the same direction. Ti and Habasle rushed into the tunnel that pierced the thick inner wall. The chestnut charged after, bashing Soulai’s leg against the bricks. In a couple of strides they were passing through a twin gate in the city’s towering outer wall. His entire leg took the blow this time. There was no pausing to notice the shattering pain, for the stallion suddenly bunched and sprang through the