All of them nodded.
“Remember—these kehoks have known captivity and freedom. They’re going to fight hard for freedom. We work together, and we can bring them in.” She paced in front of them on the silver jaguar. He snapped at the bit in his mouth. “This isn’t a race. You falter, they will kill you! You lose focus, they will kill you!”
Unlike her rich students, she was certain these people believed her and understood.
They rode out, and by the end of the day, they’d captured nine more kehoks. For the first time in a long while, Tamra was able to greet Shalla with an unforced smile, and she slept without waking until dawn.
It was going well until the day they ventured far enough into the desert to trip over what was left of the Raniran army. The wind and sand had buried many of the remains, and scavengers, possibly even kehoks, had picked the bones clean. But there were hundreds of them. A desert of bones.
I did this, Tamra thought.
She slid off the back of the silver jaguar. It had been easy to avoid thinking of what had happened. She’d lost consciousness when she lost control of the monsters. She could fool herself into thinking the Raniran army had fled and the kehoks were merely reveling in their new freedom, far away from any humans. But the kehoks’ thirst for destruction had been too great, especially after being contained at the temple. They had run down the Raniran army. She couldn’t tell if any soldiers had escaped. She could see that most hadn’t.
Tamra sank to her knees. Wind brushed sand over the bones, the armor, and the trampled banners. She felt the others staring at her.
“It’s true, then,” Algana said, awe in her voice. “What they call you.”
What do they call me? Monster? She couldn’t stop seeing the bones. Bringer of death?
“The Defender of Becar,” the girl said.
The young trainer, Jacrin, said, “You saved us all.”
Tamra tore her gaze away from the grave before her and stared at them, her team. “I caused so many deaths.”
“And saved so many lives.” Silar waved back at the city, at the Heart of Becar. “They came to kill and enslave us. You stopped them.”
Lormat held out his hand toward Tamra to help her stand.
She stared at it for a moment, trying to accept what they were saying. They didn’t see a monster when they looked at her. That wasn’t the story that was told about what she’d done.
“Come, Defender of Becar,” Lormat said. “We need to find the rest of your army.”
Tamra took his hand and, leaning on him, stood. She remounted the silver jaguar, and they rode away from the fallen soldiers. She didn’t look back.
Alone, the Defender of Becar rode the silver jaguar onto the racetrack. The other hunters were on a well-deserved day off, visiting their families or the markets. Shalla was at the training temple for her lessons. Raia was with the emperor and her kehok, as always, when she wasn’t spending time with her friends, the three young riders who had joined Tamra’s kehok-hunting crew.
Tamra’s old injuries ached, as they often did, but they weren’t as bad as they used to be, thanks to all the regular riding she was doing. She’d strengthened old muscles and had also been seen by the palace healers, who had helped.
The silver jaguar pawed the ground. Absently, Tamra patted his neck. He twisted and snapped his jaws at her, but she was quick enough to avoid his bite.
“Ready?” she asked him.
He snorted and then tensed. Ahead of them lay the racetrack, sand smoothed by wind. It stretched along the stands and then curved for the turn.
“Prepare,” she said.
She felt the sun on her back, the sand on her skin. She smelled the acrid scent of the kehok mixed with the smell of her own sweat. She felt the beating of her heart, faster and faster.
“Race!” she cried.
The kehok surged forward, and Tamra felt wind hit her face. She heard the shriek of it in her ears. She felt the power of the jaguar beneath her, his muscles reaching and straining as his paws swallowed the ground. And she felt joy inside her, filling her, pushing aside all else.
On the back of the silver jaguar, Tamra ran faster and faster until she was one with the wind, the sun, the sky, and the sand. She ran until she understood in a bone-deep way that this was who she was and who she’d become.
She was the one who would destroy the world, if that was what it took to save it.
She was the one who would race fate. And win.
Acknowledgments
I decided I wanted to become a writer when I was ten years old. (Before that, I wanted to be Wonder Woman.) I didn’t know any writers, though, and wasn’t sure it was possible for an ordinary person to become a writer. In my mind, all writers were mythical. Or dead.
And then my friend loaned me a book with a girl holding a glowing sword on the cover. “You’ll love this,” she said. It was Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce, a fantasy adventure about a girl who disguises herself as a boy in order to become the first female knight in her medieval land.
When I closed that book, I remember having one very clear thought: “If Alanna can become a knight, then I can become a writer.”
That book changed my life.
Fast forward to 1999, and I had the chance to meet Tamora Pierce at Boskone, a Boston-based SF/fantasy convention. And I discovered that she is as awesome, greathearted, and badass as any of her characters. We became friends after that, and when my first book was published in 2007, Tammy was the first person to send me flowers.
So that’s why this book is dedicated to her. And that’s why Tamra is named Tamra, after Tamora. I wanted to write a character as badass as she is.
I believe that fantasy is a literature of hope and empowerment. It can serve as a light in the darkness, as a guide toward strength, and as an escape from pain. It is my secret hope that someone will read Tamra and Raia’s story and realize that they can be who they want to be, that they can shape the world, that they can race the sands—and win.
I’d like to thank my phenomenal editor, David Pomerico, for taming the kehoks with me, and my incredible agent, Andrea Somberg, for racing with me from the start. I’d also like to thank Jennifer Brehl, Mireya Chiriboga, Chris Connolly, Kathleen Cook, Kara Coughlin, Angela Craft, Michelle Forde, Pam Jaffee, Ronnie Kutys, Lainey Mays, Debbie Mercer, Virginia Stanley, Kayleigh Webb, and all the other amazing people at HarperCollins who brought this book to life!
And a special thank-you to my husband, my children, my family, and my friends. You make life worth living and races worth running (in a metaphorical way, of course—we all know I’d rather be reading than running). If I were to be reborn, I’d hope to be reborn with you.
About the Author
SARAH BETH DURST is the award-winning author of twenty fantasy books for adults, teens, and kids, including the Queens of Renthia series; Drink, Slay, Love; and Spark. She won an ALA Alex Award and a Mythopoeic Fantasy Award and has been a finalist for SFWA’s Andre Norton Award three times. She is a graduate of Princeton University, where she spent four years studying English, writing about dragons, and wondering what the campus gargoyles would say if they could talk. Sarah lives in Stony Brook, New York, with her husband, her children, and her ill-mannered cat.
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Also by Sarah Beth Durst
The Deepest Blue
The Queens of Renthia
The Queen of Blood
The Reluctant Queen
The Queen of Sorrow
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
race the sands. Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Beth Durst. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required
fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Harper Voyager and design are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers LLC.
first edition
Frontispiece © lenka/Adobe Stock
Cover design by Richard L. Aquan
Cover illustration © Nekro
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
Digital Edition APRIL 2020 ISBN: 978-0-06-288862-4
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-288861-7
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