Red Rider Redemption (The Red Rider Saga Book 3)

by D. A. Randall

  We descended fast, my cloak flapping in the wind as we crested the next hill. One wolf glanced back to see me pursuing them. I ignored it and focused on our route. At the rate they were gaining, they would reach the Queen in a few minutes. Well before she reached the bridge that led out of La Rue Sauvage.

  I leaned sideways to draw three fresh bolts from my saddle pouch. Leaning against Crimson, I carefully dropped them into the top slot of the crossbow, loading them one by one. I hoped the bloody bolts from the ballroom would not slow the mechanism.

  We continued charging ahead, over one hill and the next, catching brief glimpses of the carriage. As we ascended the next hill, five wolves raced toward us. Laurent must have sent them back to dispose of me, at any cost.

  We descended the foothill to meet them, like armies charging into battle. They spread out to surround me on all sides.

  I swallowed. There was no way to stop them all before they pounced on me.

  I could only fire at the ones on my right.

  30.

  I tugged on Crimson’s reins, pulling him to a halt, as the five wolves spread out around us. I whirled from one wolf to the other, wondering which of the five to focus on first. My crossbow held all ten bolts, but these wolves surrounded us, covering every angle of the grassy foothill. Laurent must have ordered these Lycanthru to sacrifice themselves while he continued after the Queen. Which made them even more dangerous.

  Especially since I could only fire my repeating crossbow from my right side.

  They curved around to flank us as some tried to circle behind me. In a few seconds, they would all strike at once.

  I tugged Crimson’s reins to the left as they closed in. “Turn! Turn!” I shouted. I lay against his flank, the reins in my left hand, the crossbow in my right, as he spun in a circle. I jerked the crossbow forward as I gripped the lever, firing again and again. I shot down one, then another, then a third, as they came at me, snarling. The eyes of the last two bulged as we whirled toward them.

  Crimson made a second rotation before he finally stopped. The circle of dead wolves littered the grass around us.

  My heart pounded in my chest, but I couldn’t help feeling impressed by the maneuver. But we had no time to congratulate ourselves. I urged Crimson forward and we rushed on.

  Nine wolves left. I bent to retrieve another round of bolts from the pouch, leaning against Crimson as I dropped each one in, until I had fully reloaded.

  We galloped over the hill and the whole world of La Rue Sauvage opened up. The full moon bathed undulating hills on all sides, and the cliff where they ended on the far left. We had reached the farthest edge of the province, where Papa and Monsieur Leóne had once rescued one of our wandering lambs before it fell to its death. Beyond the cliff lay the distant plateau, stretching wide over the chasm like a sleeping crocodile, just before the bridge that led out of the province. Halfway down the winding path, the Queen’s coach rolled along, kicking up a trail of dust as the remaining wolves swarmed after it like dark rats. I could never reach her before they did. Unless …

  The tunnel. I searched and spotted the mouth of the cave at the bottom of the foothill. Three of the wolves had the same idea and scrambled toward its opening. I hesitated, tugging on Crimson’s reins, trembling at the memory of seeing Sharrad in there – the black wolf with blue-gray eyes that looked just like the wolf that scarred me and killed my Grand’Mere. The one that started my life of terror.

  I stiffened and shoved my childish fears aside. I was only nine years old when Pierre and I saw that wolf. And Sharrad was dead.

  I drove Crimson toward the tunnel.

  The three wolves disappeared into the black mouth just before I reached it. We thundered in, Crimson’s hooves echoing and skidding within the dark chamber. He clomped down the stairwell of logs that had been built into the wartime tunnel, descending faster than he had ever galloped. The pinholes that had been dug into the tunnel’s roof provided flashing glimpses of the wolves ahead of us. One wolf turned back, its yellow eyes helping me pinpoint it and shoot it down. We galloped past its body and raced down the passage at frightening speed.

  Thankfully, we knew the tunnel passage led in a straight path, and the moonlight issuing from its opposite end now outlined the silhouettes of the other two wolves loping ahead. Near the bottom, my eyes adjusted to distinguish their sharp ears, rising and falling as they rushed toward the exit. Laying against Crimson, I took steady aim and fired at the one on the right. I dropped him and drove Crimson past his carcass as the passage leveled out.

  I shot the last one as he emerged, then drove Crimson to jump over his carcass after we burst free of the tunnel.

  Out in the whistling night air, I heard the stampeding hooves of the Queen’s horses. I glimpsed the whipping tails of the wolves pursuing it, not far ahead. We had gained ground, but not enough.

  I spotted a path, sloping down and around the left side of the mountain. Enough to close the distance, if Crimson could push himself a little harder up once we climbed its hill …

  We galloped toward the left side and reached the path. We hurried down it, close to the edge. Crimson’s skidding hooves kicked dirt over the side, to tumble a few hundred feet down the mountain. I focused on the narrow path hugging the cliff as the wolves’ snarls faded above us, leaving only the shrill wind and Crimson’s steady gallop.

  The path leveled out and curved upward. Crimson snorted as he drove hard, pounding up the steady grade, the wind ruffling his mane. Until we heard the rushing hoof beats of the horses above us, tugging the Queen’s carriage. “Come on, boy,” I said. “Come on!”

  We raced up the path. Her Majesty’s coach burst into view, its driver leaning forward, halfway out of his seat. He glared at me in fright as I charged alongside them, then returned his attention to the path.

  “Wha –? Stop her!” Laurent growled from behind.

  I raised my arm to block the dust churning up from the coach’s wheels. I glanced back to spot three of the wolves. Over my left shoulder, I found the other three. Racing in front of them, I could do nothing but escort the coach safely out of the province. We had less than two miles to reach the bridge. I only needed to keep the Lycanthru from crossing it.

  Two wolves snarled and rushed forward on my right. I shot one down. The other one dodged before resuming the chase.

  “Kill the Queen!” Laurent growled behind us. “Drive her off the cliff!”

  The dark brown wolf at my right surged ahead. On my left, the other wolves slowed to circle around. I pulled back on Crimson’s reins, then shot down a black wolf as he passed. The others got through, with the coach between us. They snarled and snapped at the horses, forcing them to veer off the path toward the distant cliff.

  I charged around the right side of the coach. Laurent, the dark gray wolf, led the other three. I shot down the two in the rear, then dodged their bodies as we struck bumpy terrain. Only one more wolf to kill and then Laurent. I aimed at the dark brown wolf in back.

  The coach struck a bump and nearly spilled over on its side. I jerked the crossbow up, firing into the air to avoid striking the carriage wheels. The driver had enough to contend with, without having a crossbow bolt stuck between their rear spokes.

  I noticed the driver stretching over the edge of his platform. I squinted at his dangerous position and realized he must have lost hold of the reins. The Queen was in greater peril than I thought.

  They were barely a mile from the cliff. Even if I stopped the last two wolves, the coach would sail straight over the edge.

  31.

  I slowed, pulling away from the last two wolves as they barked and snapped at the team of horses. I drove Crimson around the other side of the coach, pushing him harder, faster. He pounded through the tall grass as the Queen’s carriage tumbled toward the distant cliff, less than a mile away. “Come on, boy!” I called. “Go! Go!”

  We gained on the coach and passed its compartment door. I kept pushing Crimson ahead, resisting the urge t
o glance inside to see how the Queen fared. “Come on!” I cried.

  We passed the driver, frantic to retrieve his reins as they danced behind the horses like teasing black snakes. I ran Crimson alongside the team, thundering toward the lead horses. I slid the crossbow strap over my shoulder and pulled my feet from the stirrups. I half-knelt atop the saddle, steadying myself as I measured the rhythm of the other horses.

  I pushed off with my boot and leaped onto a lead horse, landing on my belly. I clutched at its collar and back saddle, struggling to keep my balance in our mad rush to the cliff. A rough bump tossed me upward, and I swung my legs to drop onto the horse’s back with a jolt.

  The expanse of night stars and distant mountains spread before us, bringing the cliff’s edge into view. I had less than a minute to turn the coach.

  I pulled myself forward and looked down at the center pole, its traces connecting the four horses. The bar was barely wide enough for one boot.

  I tucked my leg in, balancing on the horses’ back as both my feet dangled over its inside flank. I studied the pole below, pacing my jump as the horses galloped on. Dropping onto the center bar, I bent my knees, landing sideways. My feet hung off the edge of the pole, angled slightly. From my awkward position, with my left hip turned toward the cliff, I clung to the collars of both lead horses.

  As we neared the edge, the winds whipped harder and colder. I crouched to seize the horses’ flapping reins and tugged them, steering the team away from the wolves, away from the edge. We circled wide, heading back toward the bridge. I spotted Crimson, still following close behind.

  “Crimson, go!” I shouted.

  Seeing our direction, Crimson raced ahead of the other horses to the bridge. I prayed thanks to God as the Queen’s team hurried to follow his lead.

  I studied the slim, bouncing bar beneath my feet. With my hands on the horses’ backs, I turned myself around carefully, keeping hold of the reins. I edged my way past the horses, step by step. The driver offered his hand as I neared the coach. I handed him the reins and accepted his firm grip to climb up. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Thank you, Mademoiselle!”

  “Don’t stop until you’re well out of the province,” I said as I crept onto the roof.

  His voice rose in alarm. “Where are you going?”

  “To help you do it.” I crawled to the back of the carriage. Laurent and the other wolf still followed, the cliff’s edge trailing away behind them. I knelt on the bouncing carriage and slid the crossbow off of my shoulder.

  They kept after us, undaunted. Just as I had hoped.

  I took careful aim at the dark brown wolf. The carriage bounced, throwing off my shot. I set the crossbow down and planted my hands on the roof, steadying myself as we continued over rough patches. The brown wolf picked up its pace. I shouldered my weapon this time, to steady it, then fired, dropping him on the spot. I glanced back to check the driver’s progress. We were almost to the bridge.

  I had one bolt left for Laurent.

  He weaved back and forth as I tried to train my crossbow on him. Yet he refused to slow his pace. We both knew he wouldn’t risk losing the Queen. He darted in and out, then back in, bringing his yellow eyes square within my sights.

  The coach lurched upward as I fired. My body lifted into the air as the crossbow left my hands, the carriage rushing by beneath me. Dark clouds rolled past the winking stars and moon as I rose to meet them. I dropped to the rough earth, bounced across it and rolled, unable to stop.

  My body left the ground again. I was falling off the cliff!

  32.

  My hands clutched at empty air as I sailed over the cliff’s edge. Then I landed hard on a dirt ledge a few feet below and started to roll. Another second and I would plummet through the night air again, past the rest of the black mountain.

  The back of my head scraped through thick brush. I twisted and lunged for it, clinging to a scraggly branch and hanging there, still alive.

  My feet dangled over the yawning abyss.

  A thunderous noise seized my attention. I glanced up to see the Queen’s coach rumble across the overhead bridge, leading out of La Rue Sauvage. They were safe.

  The wind tickled my neck as my toes searched for any sort of foothold. Passing clouds obscured the moon, as darkness swallowed the mountain.

  I kept one hand on the branch and felt for the grappling hook. I found it and slid the catch to release its prongs. Letting out some rope, I glanced above for something to snag.

  The night was thick as tar. I couldn’t even see the outline of the mountain.

  I swung the hook back and forth like a pendulum. Then I hurled it straight up, releasing plenty of rope and hoping it would sink into something firm. A tree stump. A rock. Even a patch of solid ground to support me for the few seconds I needed to climb back to the ledge.

  I felt it hook something solid as the rope dangled. Perhaps part of the same tree root higher up. I tugged hard on the line. It held fast.

  I heaved a sigh of relief and started coiling the rope around my wrist. I climbed up, edging around the tree root, ready to rest on the ledge before ascending the rest of the cliff.

  I suddenly felt myself rising. I squinted up into the darkness, as clouds shifted to reveal the rope tugging me higher. Crimson must have grabbed hold of it to hoist me up. I smiled as my muscles relaxed.

  At the top of the cliff, the moonlight spread to reveal the pointed gray ears of Laurent, grinning as his paws tugged me closer. I gasped and tried to free my glove from the bindings. He seized my wrists and hoisted me high, his face inches away from mine.

  His breath was hot and stale. “You’ve saved the kingdom, Helena. Now reap your reward.”

  I kicked at him in vain and managed to flick out one glove-blade. He tugged the gloves straight off of my hands and flung them to the dirt.

  His claws sliced through the rope and he hurled me across the foothill. I landed in a heap on the cool grass. Laurent stood upright at the cliff’s edge, a monstrous silhouette with shining claws spread for revenge. On the distant path behind me, Crimson lay still.

  “No!”

  “Don’t fret, Helena. He’s only sleeping. I didn’t want to kill him without making you watch.”

  Moonlight bathed the hills and the distant horizon, where the Queen’s coach had disappeared around the mountain. She had been saved, along with all of France. Now I would die for it.

  My crossbow lay only a few yards away.

  I held Laurent’s gaze for a moment, considering. Then I dove and rolled for it. I snatched up the crossbow and rose to face him.

  He paused. Then he dropped to all fours and crept forward. “No, I don’t think so, Helena,” he said in a low growl. “Not after you took so long to aim at me before. Not after you hesitated just now to retrieve your weapon. I don’t believe you have a single bolt left. Do you?”

  I took careful aim, slowly backing away from the cliff’s edge.

  “If you did, you would have shot me by now. Wouldn’t you?”

  I trained the crossbow on him, letting him draw closer.

  As if I had a bolt to fire.

  “But you don’t.”

  I shuddered as he stepped right up to me, calling my bluff. He stood on his hind legs and loomed over me.

  He yanked the useless crossbow from my hands and flung it away. He backhanded me with a stinging blow and my feet left the ground. I spun and landed hard on my shoulder, rolling onto my stomach.

  He circled around to leer at me with his open fangs. “Where are you going now, little girl?”

  33.

  Laurent dropped back on all fours and continued to circle around me, like a shark waiting to strike. The moon highlighted his muscular wolf-limbs. His glowing yellow eyes. His hungry fangs.

  We stood near the edge of the cliff, on the grassy hilltop that spread more than a mile in every other direction. He had left me nowhere to run and no way to defend myself, stripped of my glove-blades and crossbow. If I ran fast e
nough, perhaps I could hurl myself off the cliff before he swallowed me whole.

  “Red!”

  I turned to see Pierre, charging toward us on Diamond in a flurry of dust. My heart swelled, but he could only reach us in time to avenge my death.

  A silver baton flashed in Pierre’s fist as he flicked it out, causing it to extend twice its length. “It’s loaded!” he cried, tugging Diamond to a halt as he flung the silver rod.

  It spun, sparkling through the night air, and I realized he was tossing me his new invention, the collapsible blowgun.

  I lunged for it and flipped it over, bringing its small end to my mouth. Laurent snarled and leaped at me. I whirled and blew through the pipe.

  A spray of silver filings and dust filled the air, sparkling like stars as Laurent threw himself into them. His yellow eyes bulged as the silver cloud penetrated his skin, like a thousand tiny knives. He howled in agony and rage, lurching and twisting in mid-air before his contorted body fell to the ground. Dead.

  I stared at the gray carcass in silence. Waiting for it to rise again. Watching for another attack.

  None came.

  It was over.

  Pierre trotted closer and jumped down from Diamond. I stood slowly to meet him, my brave young knight.

  I strode toward him quickly, the boy I had pushed away time after time. The boy I wouldn’t allow myself to care about.

  “I care for you,” I confessed as I grabbed hold of his jaws and kissed him.

  My passion startled him as much as it surprised me. “Red!” he gasped as he pulled away. He glanced about to make certain no one had seen us. As if anyone had followed us all this way in the dead of night.

  I stood there, refusing to pull my hands from his face. I couldn’t, now that I had finally taken hold of him. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have kissed you. I just – couldn’t help it.” He gaped at me. I swallowed, embarrassed by my loss of control. “I’m sorry. I’m too wild for you, aren’t I?”