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The Stallion and the Rabbit
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The Stallion and the Rabbit
by Mike Shade
Torquere Press
Copyright ©2005 by Mike Shade
First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2005
NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser
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The Stallion and the Rabbit
by Mike Shade
Chapter One
It was terribly hot and his throat was parched. Both of
which were par for the course, Alex thought wryly. Ever since
he'd come to Morocco he'd been hot and thirsty, no matter
how much he drank.
And now he was stranded on the outskirts of town, his
car's engine smoking. He thought it rather ironic that his car,
of all things, would break down while he was doing research
in anticipation of covering the first ever trans-Sahara car
race. 'First ever' because the prince had promised it would
not be the last.
So he'd come and started following the route map, wanting
to know the way as well as he could before he had to try to
navigate the strange land while covering the race. It was sure
to make his name with the newspapers.
Right now though, the only thing he wanted a newspaper
for was to fan himself.
He'd opened the bonnet, burning his fingers in the process,
but truth be told, he knew nothing of what went on under the
hood of the automobile. And thus he was stranded where he
was until someone came upon him.
He'd already tried the three houses that clustered around
the road, if you could call it that, and they had proven to be
quite unhelpful. No running water, let alone telephones.
He sat carefully on the footboard of the car and took off his
glasses, wiping his face down with his sleeve before perching
the spectacles back on his nose. There wasn't even any shade
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The Stallion and the Rabbit
by Mike Shade
and his hat had blown off and he'd used all of his water on
the overheated engine. And he was feeling just a little woozy.
He watched a cloud of dust coming toward him for the
longest time before he realized it was most likely rescue in
one form or another and then it took him rather longer to
decide that no, it probably wasn't a mirage. He stood, far too
quickly for such a terribly hot day, and grabbed onto the side
of the car as the world went blurry.
The dust clarified into two horses, dark and tall, the men
upon them dressed in flowing robes, faces hidden.
"Oh. Hello." He had to clear his throat and his tongue felt
thick in his mouth. "Do you speak English? I need help."
A smattering of words sounded, none of which made
sense. Then a dark hand reached for him, grabbed him up
onto the back of a horse.
He was ashamed to admit that he shrieked. Just a little. It
had been unexpected and the horse was very high up and he
was worried about falling off. "Um ... you see, my car has
broken down."
More rumbling and chattering and the horses began to
move, the action remarkably fast, bumpy.
He wrapped his arms around the body in front of him as he
felt like he was going to be thrown, clinging. He might have
taken it as a good sign, if they were moving into the city
where he could send someone back for his car, but they
weren't moving into the city at all; instead they were headed
back out into the Sahara.
"Where are you taking me? What is going on?"
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The Stallion and the Rabbit
by Mike Shade
A loud whooping sounded, the horses moving faster and
faster, the sand zooming by. He screamed then, wanting to
let go and fall off the horse, but too scared of the drop, so he
just tightened his hold around the waist of the man in front of
him.
A piece of material was wrapped around his wrists, making
the option of not holding on much less available to him.
He screamed again, shouting, yelling, though a small voice
inside him asked just who he thought was going to come to
his rescue. He was shaken up, tugging on his hands, trying to
loosen his bonds, no longer caring if falling off the horse was
dangerous. He was scared.
The men didn't seem to care in the slightest, the sand
kicking up and choking him, not even a hint of the city left
behind.
Between the sun and sand and the bouncing and the lack
of water, he was getting woozy.
His eyes were closed tight and slowly everything else faded
away, the sweet darkness welcoming and cool.
* * * *
His second had come to him in the night, explained that
they had brought one of the white devils to him to practice
their tongue, to learn. He had asked that the white devil be
fed and washed, dressed and readied for his presence.
Alfahl sighed, waving the tidbits of honeyed almonds and
roasted goat away. His soul was restless, wandering and
pained, not even his beloved sands easing him. Not even the
outraged cries from the white devil could amuse him.
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