The Gods Awaken

CHAPTER FIVE

The black mare pranced maddeningly just out of reach as Khysmet thundered after her across the darkening plain, heart and loins charged with must.

Above, gray-knuckled clouds gathered in immense lightning-charged fists. A fierce wind drove him on-so heat-charged that long blue sparks flew off his snowy back. Beneath his hooves the cloud shadows rolled past like fast-moving waves.

Behind him poured a great herd of wondrous horses, including the fifty mares who were his wives. On this magic plain he was the king of the stallions and none dared stand in his way. He'd killed attacking lions with his mighty hooves, scattered packs of jackals intent on making a meal of his colts, humbled stallion rivals for his four-legged harem.

Nothing could be denied him on this marvelous plain that spread a thousand miles between two great mountain ranges. Nothing, that is, except for the fabulous black mare who refused to acknowledge his claim on her.

The mare had appeared only a few grazing periods before:

She came like a dream-just at twilight when the insects were rising in a thick buzzing mist off the sweet grasses. Birds and bats wheeled through those clouds crying joyously as they feasted on the fat insect bodies.

Khysmet was about to shrill the signal for the herd to move to the sleeping area he'd scouted earlier in the day: a little valley-cupped between four low-slung hills-that he could easily defend against night stalkers.

But then a cloud radiant with colorful insect wings parted and the mare pranced through.

As soon as she saw him she stopped.

Steam blew through her tender nostrils as she whinnied a greeting. Then she wheeled around and looked at him enticingly over her graceful shoulders.

Khysmet neighed in astonishment, rooted for a moment by the audacity of the strange mare. Then he dimly recalled her. They'd met in the Other World, where Khysmet had once lived with his master.

Except then the mare had been ridden by a tall woman as beautiful in human terms as was the mare to Khysmet's equine senses. He'd sensed her human beauty because upon spying the woman his master had suddenly tensed, radiating a rich musk of desire. A desire just as fierce as the heat lancing Khysmet's loins as he examined the mare.

Master and horse had pursued the mare and her rider, but after a long, teasing chase, they'd vanished.

Much later they'd appeared again, this time to lead Khysmet and his master through a winter storm iced with sorcery and danger. The wild ride had ended with the mare and her mistress vanishing as mysteriously as before.

And now, here the mare was once more-sans rider.

Khysmet whinnied a command for her to hold, then trotted forward to claim her.

But the mare shrilled amusement and shot away, dashing across the plain into the gathering night.

Khysmet pursued her for a while, but was forced to turn back to care for his herd. He spent a long night pacing the ground, trembling with the remembered scent of her.

At dawn, the mare returned to entice him once more, rearing up to whinny her seductive challenge, then dancing off with Khysmet in pursuit. No matter how hard he ran she always managed to stay comfortably ahead, until he was forced to give up the chase and turn back.

The next time she came, however, he was prepared. His herd leaders were ready for his signal and when he charged after the mare, they gathered up his harem and followed.

The chase went on all that day into the late afternoon.

Now, with the shadows of night spilling across the wrinkled stone brows of the far range, Khysmet had the sudden thrilling knowledge that the mare was tiring.

Her steps became faltering, her breathing labored-flecks of pure white foam flying off her nostrils.

And then she stopped and he shrilled his victory cry, sprinting forward to close the gap and take her.

But there was a flash of lightning and the human woman suddenly appeared, dropping from the sky to land lightly on the mare's back.

Surprised, Khysmet skittered to a halt. And then he and the mare and the woman became a living island, the herd flowing around them like a great animal river, thundering and shrilling as they raced onward, their king forgotten.

Then all was silent, except for the distant rumble of the herd's flight.

The woman's hand lifted gracefully, a single finger bending out to point at Khysmet.

He snorted, not knowing what to do.

Khysmet felt a tingling shower of magic-familiar magic. Magic that had once carried him into and through the maw of an icy hell.

The woman shouted, "Your master awaits!"

Then she and the mare whirled and leaped upward.

Khysmet leaped after them.

Up, up, up … until their pathway became the gathering stars.

In the glittering distance the Demon Moon shimmered in silent, bloody challenge.

Khysmet's mighty heart thundered in anticipation.

The call he'd waited so long for had finally come.