[Hurog 01] - Dragon Bones Read Online Free PDF

riled.”
    My attention on the squealing and struggling stallion, I waited, Ciarra a small, observant shadow beside me. I could tell from his face that Penrod wanted to say something.
    â€œHe’s too good to put down, milord,” he said at last. “His sire was trade goods, and he died early, when your father used him to hunt bandits. We only have two of his get, and one of them was gelded before anyone realized the quality of the animals. The Hurogmeten . . .” He hesitated, perhaps remembering that I was now the Hurogmeten, at least in title. “Your father didn’t want to breed him yet, thought it would make him worse to handle than he already is. So if you kill him . . .” his voice took on the impassioned plea of an artist contemplating the destruction of his finest work.
    â€œKill him?” I asked, as if I’d only just heard him. “Why would I do a stupid thing like that?” I laughed inwardly as Penrod fought his tongue and won.
    â€œI’m sure I don’t know, milord. But your uncle—he stopped in here just a few minutes ago. He thought it might be best.”
    And suggested it to Penrod, in hopes the man might persuade me. Certainly any other stable master would have hated to have such an unpredictable monster in his keeping. But my uncle had misjudged the man. Penrod was a connoisseur of horses and a good enough horseman to see that most of Stygian’s madness was man-made. It would have broken his heart to kill the stallion.
    I shook my head, outwardly dismissing my uncle. “No.”
    My father had been a rider without peer. He could stay on the worst rogue and make it do anything he wanted. He preferred to ride them until he’d battered their spirit until a lesser man could handle them. Once that was done, he’d find a different mount, or at least he had until he’d ridden Stygian. The stallion had fought him for four years, emerging, today, the victor at last.
    Three softly cursing grooms struggled to hold the animal still for my inspection. It was a battle, despite the halter they had on him. Meant to control a lusting stallion, it had dull metal buttons in places that would inflict painwhen the horse pulled against it. A chain wrapped around his nose could close off his breathing and drop him unconscious, if necessary.
    Stygian was massive; it made him appear slow, which he actually wasn’t. He was rather quicker in turning (and bucking) than in forward movement, but he’d do very well. Most animals of his build aren’t much for endurance, either, but my father used to ride Stygian when his men went through two rotations of horses to keep up. He was a dark, muddy color that lightened on his belly, flanks, and nose to a rusty brown. There were other lighter patches of color near his flanks and on his barrel due to years of whip and spur.
    â€œHis bridle and saddle are here, milord. If you want to ride.” Satisfied I wasn’t going to kill the horse, Penrod had settled into his normal, respectful self. “Though it might be better just to turn him out.” He cleared his throat. “I suggested putting him into a breeding program, but your uncle said he wouldn’t have it as long as he held Hurog, said Stygian’s temperament shouldn’t be passed on.”
    â€œCan’t breed him then,” I said regretfully.
    Penrod’s respectful face often led smarter men than my uncle into believing that the stable master agreed with them—my father, for instance. Duraugh had probably left thinking Penrod would urge me to put Stygian down. My uncle’s misjudgment might as well be turned to my good. If my uncle did well over the next two years, he would certainly win the support of the castle folk if he decided to take my place.
    It wouldn’t hurt to win over a few loyal men myself. Penrod already liked me, more because of how I treated his charges than anything personal. He was