Wine God's Sorcery: The Horse Lords

by Diana Drakulich

  A tremendous answering scream from the golden stallion shattered the air. Using all her strength, Danae struggled to hang on to the reins. Zlatna was throwing his head, trying to break away and stamped through the crowd. All the sacrificial horses waiting below the kurgan were in a state of wild panic.

  Standing next to King Yagya, Sorsha watched in heart throbbing, mute agony. She had witnessed horse sacrifices before. A cruel waste. But this sacrifice was worse. The golden stallion was imprinted on Sava’s soul.

  With the treacherous slaughter of Zlatna, Sorsha feared Sava would be so angry, so alienated, he would turn away from them all, even her. For they all tolerated this degenerate ritual. With all the force of her being Sorsha wished she could stop the sacrifice.

  But who am I to stand against such powers?

  Xobash quickly slipped a slim noose over the mare’s head, just under the jawbone. Sorsha felt the mare’s rising, wide-eyed panic, saw it in her high arched neck, her rigid muscles.

  Using a short thick piece of wood to wind the slack, Xobash began twisting the rope, tightening the noose around the mare’s neck.

  “Sword of our fathers

  We bow low before thee!

  Hear our cry -

  Your faithful subjects invoke thee!

  Stand by us in our time of great need!

  Make our people strong!

  Help us defeat King Darius!

  We send you this swift messenger

  From our lips to your ears!

  The crowd took up the refrain –

  Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin!

  Nothing is ours

  All is YOURS!

  Zoltan leaned close to the mare’s wide-eyed, terrified white face to whisper a message in her ear. As the noose began cutting into the mare’s wind pipe, the horse flung up her head and tried to rear. Too late.

  Another priest held her down by the bridle reins as Xobash twisted the noose tighter and tighter. In moments the mare sank to her knees and went down. Zoltan drew his sword and stabbed her white neck, cutting the carotid artery.

  At that moment Sorsha saw the white mare turn her head and look directly into Zoltan’s eyes – the mute question in the horse’s agonized eyes, the silent cry –

  WHY?

  A great gush of blood spurted out of the mare’s severed artery - buckets of hot blood. At this sight, the crowd released a primitive, keening wail.

  Zoltan placed a large vessel under the dying mare to collect the blood. With great pomp the high sorcerer strode to the Sword in the Stone and poured the mare’s hot red blood over it. The people cried out as one –

  Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin!

  Nothing is ours

  All is YOURS!

  Hail Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin!

  Zoltan knelt and slit open the mare’s belly – a great gush of pulsing, slithering red and blue intestines slid out. He tore out a section of her guts. The long ropy intestines shone brilliant red and blue in the morning sunshine.

  The sight of those still living, moving intestines sickened Sorsha more than anything else. It took all her will to keep from running away. But for Sava’s sake, she forced herself to watch. To be there to ease the stallion’s way to the Other World with her own spiritual force.

  Zoltan rose from the mare’s still trembling, prostrate white body. He announced in a great voice –

  “The omens are good! Ah-Gin hears us – Skythia will prevail!”

  “Hail Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin!” Came the fervent manic chant.

  Four burly warriors carrying axes went to work on the mare’s bloody, eviscerated body. In moments her dismembered body parts were heaved down the back of the kurgan onto the flaming pyre. As her flesh began to steam and roast, a pillar of black smoke rose to the sky. Soon the air was saturated with the scent of roasting flesh.

  “Hail Ah-Gin! This wondrous fragrance pleases the god!” Zoltan bellowed.

  Acolytes threw baskets of sacred hemp buds onto the flaming pyre. The aroma of burning flesh was drenched with intoxicating smoke from the drug, further exhilarating the crowd. The sacred ram’s horn sounded and the next frightened, prancing white mare was led up to the altar.

  Again and again the sacred ram’s horn sounded. The people chanted, transfixed by the fear and pain of the animals until all six mares had been slaughtered.

  The seventh and final sacrifice would be the legendary champion of the 1,000 Mile Race. By now the ground at the top of the kurgan was heavily soaked with blood. A thick pall of black smoke from the singeing, roasting body parts permeated the air.

  Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin!

  Nothing is ours

  All is YOURS! The crowd roared as one, possessed by the hive mind.

  The terrified screaming of the mares and the scent of blood, smoke and fire had the golden stallion in a state of panic. The big war horse was beside himself. Zlatna was rearing, trying to rip the reins from her hands and stampede through the crowd running over all those in his way.

  Danae struggled to hold the powerful beast to earth while dodging devastating blows from his lethal hooves. He was striking out with both front and hind feet, almost completely out of control.

  Crouched beside his yurt on the outskirts of camp, Sava watched the golden-red sunrise. With all the mental force his soul contained he willed the golden stallion –

  Fight Zlatna Fight!

  Danae knew she did not have the strength to lead the powerful, frantic stallion through the frenzied crowd. She could not force him up the steep slope of the huge earthen kurgan where the priests waited with their knives.

  Borna’s calm, commanding face materialized out of the crowd. Without a word he held out his hand. Dazed, she handed him the reins. He leaned down and murmured in her ear –

  “I will come for you.”

  But his words were lost in the noise and hysteria of the moment. Danae’s mind was numb with horror at the shocking betrayal which awaited her brother’s beloved horse. A horse the whole family treasured.

  Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin!

  Borna struggled to lead the panicked stallion down the aisle through the mindless fervently chanting crowd. The tension was at fever pitch, especially among the Sauromatae. Zlatna was the most valuable stallion in Sauromatia, a great sacrifice indeed. Surely the war god would recognize the magnitude of their sacrifice. Of their loss - the strongest and fastest warhorse in a generation. Maybe ever.

  But the survival of the people was at stake. The Sword in the Stone must have blood. The most precious blood.

  Danae had groomed the stallion to perfection; his metallic golden coat was a blinding reflection of the sun, now fully crested over the horizon. The red felt saddle pad was emblazoned with the black tamgas of Mata Drakaina. The brow band of Zlatna’s bridle was inlaid with the coveted gold star, marking him as a great champion.

  Standing in the crowd, the Geloni arkhon Mikon observed the ritual with profound regret. At the same time he thanked his lucky stars that he had bred ten mares to Zlatna while he had the chance. After next year’s foal crop there would be no more.

  The stallion’s head was high, neck arched, muscles rigid as Borna led him prancing down the aisle. The horse’s golden brown eyes were rolling like marbles, showing the whites. From deep within Zlatna’s chest emerged a mighty neigh that vibrated his whole body with power and energy.

  Prancing, snorting, rearing, Zlatna kept jerking his head and trying to bolt. The closer they got to the kurgan, the more violent and dangerous the stallion became.

  If Sava had been holding the reins Zlatna would have charged up that kurgan right through the smoke and smell of blood and death. But Sava was not there. However Borna was exceptionally strong and a master horseman. Still it was a struggle that took all his considerable skill and strength.

  When he finally got the stallion to the top of the kurgan, the ram’s horn blew, long, ominous. Clouds of smoke burned his eyes. The ground under his feet was soaked red with blood. High priest Zoltan cried out in exultatio
n –

  “Sword of our Fathers –

  Hear our cry!

  We bow low before thee,

  Almighty Ah-Gin

  Who can reduce our lands

  To a scorching desert of fire!

  Nothing is ours!

  All is YOURS!”

  Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin! Ah-Gin!

  Nothing is ours!

  All is YOURS! The people roared.

  As Borna held out the reins to Xobash, a haunting cry pierced the air. A great dark shadow passed overhead. As one, the crowd looked up to see a huge eagle soaring, circling above. An omen of great portent.

  Unnoticed in the excitement, five hooded riders mounted on black horses, each leading a spare horse had eased up behind the priests in a line down the back of the kurgan.

  At that moment, instead of handing the reins to Xobash, Borna leapt onto the stallion’s back. Suddenly Zlatna was spinning like a whirlwind and kicking like a demon.

  Xobash was kicked in the groin and went down. Zoltan took a massive kick in the chest with both hooves. He crumpled like a stuffed dummy.

  Priests and nobles standing nearby leapt out of the way, falling onto each other in their haste to avoid the powerful stallion’s lethal flying hooves.

  The hooded figures threw off their hoods and drew their swords, screaming:

  “Stand back! The Eagle has come! Make way!”

  Some of the Sauromatae cheered and knelt, hearts thrilling with hope that Zlatna might be saved, even against this great multitude.

  The line of black horses opened the way and the golden stallion raced down the back of the kurgan galloping straight toward the flaming pyre at the bottom. Those few people in the way dove to the side to avoid being run down. With a tremendous leap Zlatna bounded into the smoke over the lower edge of the flaming pyre.

  Reaching the plain below, the stallion raced across, running with the speed of a bowshot. The five mounted horses and five spares galloping behind, a large black dog at their heels. A narrow river the width of three men lay in their path.

  Zlatna sailed over it. Landing lightly on the other side, he took off again, headed for a swath of trees, the black horses trailing behind.

  Stunned, Danae watched Zlatna streak away, Borna’s lean hard body crouched low over the stallion’s neck.

  Ichors, the essence of the gods must flow thru His veins. How else could one so fine exist upon this earth?

  The golden stallion disappeared into the woods. Before the black horses entered the protection of the trees the riders turned. Their brandished swords reflecting scintillating points of light from the rising sun. Whoops of victory echoed back to the stunned crowd -

  “For the spirit of Coraci! For Jivan - God of Life! For Neuria!”

  In answer a trilling cry of jubilation emerged spontaneously from the throats of the Sauromatae. But the sorcerers screamed in protest –

  “Thieves! Get them! Kill the Unbelievers!”

  Several warriors rushed up, bows in hand. The black horses were still within bowshot, but King Idanthrysus shook his head.

  “Let them go. Such courage should not go unrecognized. The Sword in the Stone has had enough blood for one day. The stallion is gone.”

  Indeed, with such a head start, there was no way Zlatna could be caught. The horse could outrun anything on four legs in Skythia. Nor would anything be gained by killing Queen Toxaris or her family, thus permanently alienating the Neuri.

  In truth, Idanthrysus was secretly relieved Zlatna had been spirited away. Because his had been the final voice to insist on the stallion’s sacrifice, he had incurred the sullen resentment of his most powerful ally - Voivode Skopasis. The Sauromatian warlord and his wife had pointedly refused to honor the sacrifice with their presence, an act tantamount to blasphemy.

  Now all would be forgiven and they could go on as before. Idanthrysus hoped. As for Zoltan, whose scheming had fomented such dissension among the tribes at this crucial time – the king only regretted the stallion had not kicked his damn fool head off.

  Despite this sacrilegious affront to the God of War, the people watched the golden stallion’s getaway with breathless admiration. Many breathed a vast sigh of relief. A sigh so heartfelt, so momentous, it was felt across the Sea of Grass.

  Tales of the golden stallion’s stunning escape, of his courage, speed and extraordinary athleticism would be told over campfires for generations to come. Zlatna was now a legend. Many promised themselves that somehow, by hook or by crook, they would find a way to breed, buy, beg or steal a Zlatna-bred horse.

  And those who already had one, such as King Yagya, thanked the gods for the stallions Sava had gifted he and Sorsha. The value of Marich and Bandar had just gone up astronomically.

  As for Arkhon Mikon, for the second time that morning he prayed that all ten mares he had bred to Zlatna were in foal.

  Hahq was among those who breathed a deep sigh of relief and jubilation. To kill Zlatna would have been a huge travesty. Hahq’s calculating brain was already embracing the added wealth sure to be flowing to his own coffers. His Zar was the only full brother to the now legendary golden stallion. With Zlatna far away in Neuria, there would be great demand for Zara’s services and his offspring.

  So fixated was everyone on the escape of the golden stallion, no one heard the eagle hunter’s beckoning call coming from behind an outlying kibitka –

  Ai! Ai! Ai!

  Leather jesses dangling from talented feet, the golden eagle circled and swooped. Folding its long powerful wings, the eagle arrowed down and disappeared behind the kibitka.

  “Batur my friend, I salute you,” said a youthful voice. “Today you have done a noble deed.”

  A young hand that spoke of great strength to come stroked the eagle’s regal head as its sharp hooked beak ripped into the chunk of fresh meat now clutched in its talons.

  Wings took Danae’s feet as she set off running for Skopasis’ yurt, bearing the thrilling news to her family. In her haste she almost dashed right by the horse pen, but something large and black caught her eye.

  She stopped dead in her tracks. Holy Goddess.

  The black stallion Soma stood there, long neck arched, jewel-like eyes watching her. Waiting.

  In a state of shock Danae entered the pen. She gazed a long still moment into Soma’s eyes. Standing at his shoulder she put her arms around the horse’s neck and embraced him. Soma snuffled and rumbled in her ear, nibbling her cheek with big soft lips.

  “There will never be another one such as You. Never.”

  And somehow she knew that Borna heard her.

  Sorsha ran to the Tauri horse pen, threw a rope on Marich and galloped like the wind out to where Sava was being held. In a swirl of dust she leapt off before the horse even halted, rushed up to Sava and embraced him.

  Eyes molten, brimming with sadness, Sava wrapped his arms around her. He held her close, so close, as if he would never let her go.

  “I have lost everything, my horse, my heart...I will come for you Sorsha. Wherever you are, married or not, I will find you and bring you home.”

  Gazing straight into his eyes she clutched his shoulders as if to shake him into reality.

  “Do not despair Adoni, a miracle has happened! Zlatna got away!”

  Sava’s knees went weak.

  “Truly?”

  “On my life I swear it! I saw it with my own eyes!”

  “How? What happened?”

  “They killed all six mares. Then just as Zoltan was about to sacrifice Zlatna, a great eagle flew overhead. It hovered over the kurgan and called out. Everyone took it as an omen and looked up, even Zoltan. Then Borna leapt onto Zlatna’s back and the stallion started spinning and kicking like a demon! He kicked Zoltan with both hind feet, right in the chest.”

  “Is Zoltan dead?” Jivan let it be so.

  “I don’t know. He collapsed and was not moving when I left. It all happened so fast.” Sorsha smiled through glistening eyes.

  “You should have se
en them Sava - All those brave chieftains standing on the kurgan watching the sacrifices – They were falling all over each other, diving into the dirt to get out of Zlatna’s way! Your friends stole him right out of Zoltan’s hand! They have spirited him away to Neuria. King Idanthrysus has decreed that no one shall follow.”

  An image of the golden stallion racing all out across the valley with Borna hovering low over his neck rushed into Sava’s mind.

  Run Zlatna Run! RUN as you have never run in all your life.

  The relief was so great, the nomad’s legs gave way and he sank. Effortlessly down…until his face was pressed into the soft green grass of earth. He inhaled deeply the fresh power of Life.

  Thank you God. I am forever your servant.

  May goodness and light follow you all the days of your lives my friends...

  You and I were there too. We saw it All.

  Credits –

  Sava’s song the night before the horse sacrifice is a Russian folk song - Kohn - `Horse’.

  The Oracle of Glykon at the Dionysia is based on the Oracle of Delphi at the Persian invasion of Greece in 480 BC

  If you enjoyed this book please write a review on Amazon. It would be much appreciated.

  Diana loves to hear from readers. Contact her at diana.drakulich@gmail.com.

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  Excerpt from The HORSE LORDS - Book 4 (forthcoming)

  Chapter 9 - Desert Raiders

  Nisean horses are worthy

  Of the most powerful rulers,

  Strikingly beautiful in appearance

  They move lightly under the rider

  And lightly accept the bit

  The head with its Roman nose

  Is carried high

  And their golden manes

  Flow majestically in the wind –

  Oppian, Roman historian, c. 200 BC

  “In two days we pass the southern edge of the Taklamakan.” Shakya guide Ranveer said as he rode alongside Sava.