Salt (The Barbarians Book 1) by E.J. Lowell & Nathan Lowell

Author:E.J. Lowell & Nathan Lowell [Lowell, E.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Durandus Ltd.
Published: 2021-08-07T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sukhetai

* * *

The wind tore down from the eastern mountains and kept pushing them toward the water when they finally reached the back end of the Ire. Black, hoof-shaped clouds loomed above them, and every once in a while ice-cold rain spat down.

Sukhetai intended to push through the foul weather. He’d seen worse. They’d all seen worse. When it reached midday and showed no sign of calming, he began to wish they had one of the oyuuns with them to beat the storm back. He and Qara kept looking at each other, grimacing, most likely thinking the same thing.

The wind blasted down once more, and Sukhetai ducked his head against it. He expected it to be colder, which meant only that they were about to get snow up in the mountains. Warm wind meant cold weather, especially as they rode farther south.

His horse reared up and nearly threw him. At first, Sukhetai thought there might have been something on the ground, but the brief glimpse he caught whilst trying to rein in the stallion revealed nothing. Qara and Delgejin, both of whom were behind him, yelped in surprise as the horse stamped the ground. He huffed, frustrated or spooked by something, and kicked out. Sukhetai held on, if barely.

“Easy, boy!” he called. “Eas—whoa!”

The stallion bucked around like there was a wolf on his back instead of Sukhetai. The First Rider’s heart hammered, as the stallion raced off away from the group, then started bucking again. He held on, not wanting to fall and get smacked by a wayward hoof. His hold on the leather reins slipped and slid from the rain, and he set his jaw as the beast kept hopping around.

“Come on, settle down!”

Sukhetai flinched as the horse reared his head back, nearly hitting his rider’s hands against his chest. The wind whipped Sukhetai’s hair into his face, pulling strands free from the tight braid down his back, and he did his best to ignore it while he fought to stay in the saddle. The stallion kicked his legs up in the air again, reared back, then bolted back for the group.

That did it. Sukhetai jerked the reins and tried to steer the horse with his legs, to little avail. The stallion did turn, and ground to a halt, kicking his legs and sending Sukhetai flying back toward the caravan. He had just enough time to wonder what happened before the ground hit him and knocked the wind from his lungs.

He rolled twice and lay still, ears ringing, eyes watering, too shocked to wheeze, as the stallion calmed down again. The horse strode calmly toward Qara, though he kept one eye turned toward Sukhetai. When finally the First Rider managed to suck in enough air to get started breathing again, the horse dug at the ground.

Sukhetai rolled to his hands and knees, his world narrowed to an arm’s length around him and the grass underneath. He gasped a few times and felt his ribs. They weren’t broken, thankfully, though he felt a bruise already forming on his shoulder blade.

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