Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law Read Online Free

stallion
had taken every horse they owned and vanished. Robbed of their
living, the tribe had fallen into poverty and hardship, and no
matter how many horses they had stolen, the stallion had returned
and taken them.
    The headman's
voice had dropped to reverent tones, and even the smallest babies
had fallen silent as he went on. After the tribe had suffered for
months, the stallion had returned, and instead of trying to capture
him or reviling him for the doom he had brought, the headman had
begged forgiveness. No one had doubted by then that the stallion
was the god of horses, come to save them from slavery, and the
headman had begged him to bring back their steeds, swearing never
again to ill treat them. Further, he had sworn to tend them well,
care for their sicknesses, rid them of parasites and lead them to
good pastures. The stallion had struck a pebble at his feet with a
forefoot, and when the headman had looked at it, he had found that
it now bore a strange mark, a circle with a cross through it. As
the headman had picked it up, the stallion's words had come to
him.
    "Treat them
well, and you will prosper, make them suffer, and so will you."
    The headman
had sworn upon his life, and the blue-eyed stallion had left. The
next day the horses had returned, and the headman had found that he
could speak to the herd stallion. Others who had touched the stone
had been blessed with the same ability, and each had been chosen by
a horse with which he or she could converse. Soon every member of
the tribe had been bonded with a horse, and they had prospered.
Never again had they sold the horses, but the steeds had borne them
swiftly to the hunt and to battle. They had helped to till the
fields and haul their produce to the market, and the mares had
given their milk for the children. Since that time, every child of
sixteen touched the stone, then waited for their chosen steed to
make itself known to them.
    Shan rolled
onto his back and chewed a blade of grass. He had his eye on a
frisky bay colt with a white blaze, which he fancied would be his.
For two days now, he had stalked the colt, but not once had the
animal looked at him. Glancing around, he spotted the black colt
staring at him again. Shan cursed softly. The two-year-old was the
current joke amongst the tribe. He had been born late one year to
the herd's oldest mare, the black lead mare Shisab. Shisab was no
beauty, being heavily built and slow, but her chosen, a fat
farmer's wife, loved her anyway. The colt had been her last foal,
since then she had turned barren and taken up guard duty.
    Shan glared at
the colt. Although big, the two-year-old was coarse, his head broad
and whiskery, his legs thick and feathered, signs of slowness.
Every youngster longed for a horse that was beautiful and swift,
like the bay colt. No one wanted the ugly black colt, least of all
Shan. He was the headman's son, and deserved a better steed. He
jumped up and shouted, waving his arms to try to drive the colt
away. The animal snorted and flung up his head, and Shan bent to
pick up a stone.
    "Hey!"
    Shan swung
around. A line of wood gatherers wound through the pasture, heading
for the clan's tent village. Their leader, a warrior named Brin,
strode towards him. Shan dropped the stone before Brin reached him,
trying to look innocent. The warrior stopped before him and dumped
the wood he carried.
    "What did you
think you were doing?"
    Shan glanced
back at the colt. "I just wanted to chase him away. I wasn't going
to hit him, honest."
    Brin slapped
Shan, making him stagger. He blinked away the tears that stung his
eyes as he straightened to face the warrior.
    "If you ever
throw stones at the horses, you'll be cast out, stupid boy!" Brin
glowered at him, his hard grey eyes unwavering in his strong,
square-jawed face. The tattoos of his rank flowed down his cheeks
in long lines, and the circle and cross of the Stone mark adorned
his brow. "Why would you want to chase him away?"
    Shan shuffled
his feet