The Black Horse Novels & Stories

Whatever hellish creature he had just called… I was ready to face it. I wouldn’t let Manolya, Pelin, or the boys down! “I wouldn’t let Manolya, Pelin, or the boys down!” But to my surprise, a black stallion emerged from the darkness, tall and lean, its powerful frame moving toward us. It was an Anatolian war horse. Behren stepped forward and took hold of the reins, guiding the horse closer before securing them to the sarcophagus. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady.

It sits there like a question. I don’t understand it. I don’t want to. “Your horse,” I say, because changing topics is how I survive feelings. “What’s his name?” Adrian glances back at the black horse. The animal stamps once and flicks its tail like it’s bored with all of us. “Onyx.” Of course. “He’s beautiful,” I say, and I immediately want to bite my tongue because that sounded like admiration out loud. Adrian’s eyes flick back to me. “He’s difficult.”

Past carts filled with weapons. I jerked in his hold and slapped at his arm that held me still to his chest. Ahead of us, I sighted everyone with bags and beside them were six horses. Three of them were black, one was chest nut, one was white and I recognized Asterix, Zephyros's arrogant horse. I scowled at the beast when we finally reached them, remembering how well he treated me. In reply, he whined. Zephyros dropped me roughly but I still landed on my feet. Ha!

"Then who gave you the order?" The Black horse tosses his big head. "It stays between me and the one who asked me," he neighs. Now Laurin remembers something. If you ask the Brock Horse for his real name, you can make him serve you." What's your name?" he asks, hoping for the best. "Don’t be dumb. You think I'm that easy to fool? I am the Brook Horse and nothing else." He stomps the rocky ground with his massive hooves and sparks fly.

he said, bowing deeply before turning to retrieve what was obviously a prearranged mount. The horse he led out was magnificent in a way that made Eryndra's breath catch. Midnight was a stallion of exceptional beauty, his coat so black it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. His muscles rippled beneath his dark skin as he moved, and there was an intelligence in his eyes that spoke of years of careful breeding and training. This wasn't just a horse; this was a creature worthy of a king.

"Good. Insanity is our brand." "Terrible brand," Silas said, finally finishing with whatever he'd been doing and collapsing dramatically onto the couch. "We should rebrand. Something more appealing." "Like what?" Noir asked, joining us in the living room. "The Four Horsemen? The Apocalypse Squad?" Silas gestured wildly. "Something with pizzazz." "Pizzazz," Noir repeated flatly. "Yes. Pizzazz. It's what we're lacking." "We're lacking a lot of things," Lorenzo said against my hair. "Pizzazz isn't high on the list."

I can’t believe that in just a few weeks the girls will be at the ranch with me. Ben, my trainer has picked two horses for Immi and I, one is a beautiful dark almost chocolate brown with a silky pale mane, the biggest brown eyes with long lashes I ever did see. Her name is Maple and it suits her. The other horse is black as the night without any moonlight or stars to light it up. Her name is Darkness, her mane and tail are ebony and those dark eyes of hers, well they sure have reeled me in. She will be my horse and Immi will have Maple.

I said trying to look firm, but the little girl still looked back at Asra for affirmation. It was almost outrageous for a child to suspect me, but it was not time to think about it. The little girl was so Asra said she would be fine and when she hid, I saw the crimson-haired woman next to me preparing for combat. There were horses, horses that looked more like Pegasus and on them, riders emerged, they wore a similar outfit to the killers that covered even their faces, but it was easy to find that they were all human. Their smell gave them away.

"It's been far too long, my friend" I picked up a brush and I started brushing Apples. He was an older horse. Storm had named it himself. He was a Hanoverian horse that was black with no other spot in sight. It made her name funny. He was good natured, beautiful and a competitive animal. I liked him well enough even though he lacked the cruelty of an Arabian horse. Apples knew he was a beauty and he carried himself as such. I kept brushing Apples until I heard a sound behind me and turned around.

“Don’t worry, okay? Everything’s going to be alright.” I ask him about the mission, but he says that the Black Tiger is going to explain everything to me. Can you believe it? Everyone knows he doesn’t talk to anyone. I step outside, and see him riding a motorcycle in front of the building. He’s wearing a black silk shirt, opened to the chest, showing his pale skin. His hair is styled messily, with some strands covering his eyes. His gloved hands are on the grips, ready to start the vehicle. He turns his head and looks at me, and his dark stare makes my body shiver.