The Bronze Horseman Novels & Stories

Laurin finally says. Cain wants to protest, but then he looks at his son Enok. He doesn't want to leave him, nothing in the world is worth the risk of losing him again. Not even Indra. "Can you carry two people?" Indra asks Rubrum. "Of course," he says in his friendly dark voice. Laurin walks up to Cain. "To control the Brook Horse, you must know his real name." "And what is it?" "Viridi. His name is Viridi."

At the same time, they cupped their hands and bowed to the front. "Welcome, Lord Black Dragon." Splash. A tall water-shaped door was suddenly pulled up in the originally lingering rain fog. Behind the door, the sound of hooves became clearer and closer. The voice gave people a feeling that it was still far away. The next moment, a bronze seahorse that was taller than a human appeared. A chariot pulled by 18 tall seahorses jumped out of the gate. A tall young man in black armor stood on the chariot. His eyes were full of majesty.

The others crowd around the animal, which is tripping around nervously. Finn is standing by the horse. My stomach turns inside me when I see him cut the throat of the animal without hesitation. There is a bubbling, guttural sound coming from it while trying in vain to fill the lungs with oxygen. "Receive this Tafn as Gebu, that tonight you will bestow on us Ulfhedin's powers !" The blood splashes into the tub, and the men is spattered too when the horse with shaking legs fall over on the rock floor. Its legs gallops aimlessly into the open air during the last death cramps. The geologist carries the tub over to the statue and carefully pours the contents into the head of the wooden figure. It

**** When they were done swimming, Nathan suggested that they unhitch the horses from the cart and go for a ride, and as relaxed as she was, Crystal thought that it was a novel idea - and so it was that they were coming over a hill when Christine spotted them. Nathan was riding a black horse, which was his special riding horse. It had black fur with a white marking on the forehead, making it look noble and elegant. Crystal was riding the brown horse, Zeus, which was Christine’s special horse, and when she saw the other woman riding her horse, her ire began to rise. She brought her hand to her mouth and whistled.

I exclaimed, patting his mane as he noshed his grass. Vulcan was a roman name for the lord of fire. And this horse appread as ferocious as fire. "Chester, his name is Chester. And you can't claim him." said a girlish voice before feets rushed towards me crumbling the hay cladded floor in the process. Ignoring the voice behind me, I kept patting my horse trying to grab his attention from the damn grass. "Vulcan, look at me my dear." I tried once again but in vain.

Jeremiah asked, as he was unwilling to take a ride on the top of a horrifying-looking horse. But Engram was only chuckled, he quickly soothed Jeremiah to calm down, “relax Jeremiah, no need to be afraid…” he said while patting on Jeremiah’s head, “This is my stallion, Rudolf, it died during the war, but I decided to absorb his soul into my weapon…” the paladin explained, “turned out, it comes in handy when I need it.” ‘I see… so this is one of Engram’s summons’ Jeremiah realized and became relaxed, ‘so that explains the bad stench… it's because the horse was already dead and rotten… but I shouldn't say it to him about this or he will be offended.’

And if someone really died there, it would be difficult to find them, so thick and expansive it is. Dorian keeps quiet beside her, like he always does. They walk until they reach the stable. There are a couple of horses standing there, tossing their heads at the sight of him and stomping their hooves. Troy slides her arm away from him and steps closer. “Hey, boy,” Dorian says as he walks over, and the horse practically beams at him, neighing and tossing its mane. It’s a pale white horse with long white hair flowing from its mane. As he brushes its nose, they almost look like one creature, except Dorian's braided hair is more silver than white.

Three stolen carriage horses, stripped of their leather harnesses and iron bits, galloped blindly through the treacherous mud, their hooves striking sparks against the black slate path. Marcus rode ahead, his massive frame hunched low over the horse’s neck. He didn't use reins; his fingers were woven directly into the animal's frozen mane, his eyes cutting through the thick winter fog with intensity. Every few seconds, his chest would heave with a ragged gasp. Beneath his wet tunic, the silver veins flared in rhythm with his heartbeat, sending tiny arcs of violet static sizzling down the horse's flanks.

“That little boy—you look just like a girl.” Frigg watched him silently for a moment, then leaned close to Loki and whispered something in his ear. Loki nodded and obediently conjured a small flame in his hands, tossing it toward the tail of the divine horse. The horse’s tail caught fire, and it immediately bolted forward. The silver-haired man struggled to calm his horse while shouting angrily, “What’s your name? Don’t you know who I am? You brat—next time I see you, you’ll regret it!” His voice faded as he disappeared around the corner of a great hall.

Its eyes are wild, rolling back to show the whites, its heavy hooves stomping violently against the straw. “Whose horse is that?” I whisper, instinctively stepping back a pace, my heart hammering against my ribs. “That’s Z’ver,” Leonid says, his small voice holding a strange mix of awe and fear. “He belongs to Konstantin. Nobody else can touch him.” “He bit a stable hand’s finger off last winter because the man tried to change his water. He’s very aggressive. Only obedient to my brother.” I stare at the magnificent, terrifying creature. Note taken.