by Diane Rapp
Trenton added, “The wolves are native to Drako. Mysterious tales are handed down. Some say wolves steal children, some say they’re ghosts. The desert riders consider them gods. It’s not smart to hunt a wolf since it’s too easy to be hunted instead.”
Bryant peered at Donovan with concern. “You heard him talk to you?”
“It’s hard to believe but I have a good feeling about Kriegen. He could be my friend.” Donovan glanced at the rocks. “Let’s move on.” He mounted Tempest and trotted away.
Bryant led Donovan through the course, passing the major jumps approaching the flag station. “This is where the race changes. Spotters stationed along the route verify that each rider completes the mandatory jumps and retrieves a flag, but after this point each horseman chooses his own course back to the finish line.”
Trenton eyed the terrain ahead. He asked, “When the race reaches this point, there’s no fixed route?” Bryant nodded and Trenton chuckled. “This could be an interesting race after all.”
“There are two possible trails,” Bryant said. “The easy course is flat, circles around the mountain, but the shorter path goes directly over the mountain. It’s rough and dangerous.”
Donovan grinned. “Odds are Trenton will pick the most dangerous trail available.”
“You’ve never appreciated my true talents, but I can give you an advantage,” Trenton grumbled. “That is, if you garner the courage to follow the trail.”
“I agree with Trenton.” Bryant squinted into the sun as if he were trying to see through the mountains. “Tempest is strong and quick, but you’re a big man. He’s carrying more weight than other horses. His strength over jumps gives you an equal chance but on a straight-away you compete against the long strides and lighter burdens of horses bred to sprint.”
Trenton nodded. “Tempest’s stamina will help you cross the mountain and gain valuable time for the finish. I’ve ridden mountain trails that’d make you quake in your boots, but it will be worth the danger to gain the edge. You should take the mountain trail.”
“Keep your wits and watch for traps. With no spotters in this area, you could disappear down a cliff and no one would be the wiser,” Bryant said bluntly.
“What’d I tell you? The dangerous path is for me.” Donovan laughed. “We’d better examine the trail. I don’t intend to become a permanent part of the scenery.”
“Good!” Trenton sounded too enthusiastic for Donovan.
*******
Jarrack followed the three riders at a distance. “You’re at least predictable,” he muttered. The steep mountain trail covered with trees and brush kept Jarrack out of sight. Once his horse shied in fear of plunging down the steep mountainside, but he spurred the animal and forced obedience.
When he discovered the perfect place to lay a trap, Jarrack smirked. Donovan almost makes it too easy! He tied the horse to a tree and climbed to a spot above the trail. He ignored the horse’s distressed whinny and failed to notice that dark shadows moved silently through the forest.
He analyzed the spot for the black box. This place reminds me of growing up. He always hid from his father behind his mother’s skirts. She doted on him, granted his every wish. No man was worthy of the woman, but she treated his father like a god. Jarrack hated his father.
Why did Transfer come too late to save her? The memory of watching her age made him tremble with rage. Her eyesight grew weak, her skin was spotted and wrinkled, and her delicate white hands were bent and swollen. I’ll never allow that to happen to me!
When Jarrack learned about Transfer, he joined the Institute without hesitation. He resented bending to authority but accepted it as part of the game. Soon he joined the upper echelon of the Institute. As one of the elite, he could Transfer at any time and never faced aging. In fact his mental powers increased with each Transfer, knowledge that he concealed.
Dr. Alexander’s a fool! I understood the power of Transfer long before it dawned on the good doctor. I had superior mental control. I dominated weaker minds and implanted my own ideas. Donovan interfered and stole my woman. When I destroy that man I’ll dominate people on this backward planet.
It was growing late. Jarrack climbed down and untied his restless horse. Something frightened the horse, and he felt like he was being watched. He sent his mind out but found nothing, no minds within reach. That’s not possible! I can reach far beyond this mountain range. Is some force blocking my thoughts? Jarrack felt helpless and panicked. He rode like a madman, frantically whipping his horse to escape the eerie darkness of the mountains.
*******
Donovan’s party emerged from the rugged mountains within sight of the finish line. There were two final obstacles on the racecourse, including the most difficult water jump. A weary mount might fall in full view of the grandstands—a hazard designed to provide an exciting finish for the crowd.
“Try the jump,” Bryant said. “Tempest may pitch on landing. If you feel his hind legs drop into the ditch, give him his head. He’s got more chance of recovery on his own than with your help. Being aware of his balance is important near the end of the race.”
Donovan marveled at Bryant. Why did Halder choose me as his heir, when Bryant is the most logical choice? It’s beyond my comprehension. Donovan urged Tempest forward, allowing the horse to gain speed. As they reached the jump, Donovan clenched his teeth.
Bryant told Trenton, “This particular jump caused many a good horse and rider to fall, but the crowd loves it. If a horse gets injured or dies just to give the onlookers a thrill, it makes me furious.”
“It’s stupid to risk life and limb.” Trenton’s body tensed as Tempest bolted over the obstacle. “That horse can really jump.”
Bryant frowned. “Let’s hope he doesn’t lose his head when the other horses press close. If he takes off too early, he’ll hit the pitch on the far side, fall back and lose the race.”
Trenton grimaced. “I wish Donovan entered the hunting event instead of racing.”
“You forget the danger of our native predators. Donovan might face the fangs of a crag-lion or the tusks of a woolly boar.”
Trenton sighed. “Yeah, I took great pleasure hunting on this planet.”
Bryant shook his head in disbelief. “After this is all over, I’ll organize a hunt for you, my friend. I’ll make sure you really enjoy yourself.”
Trenton’s eyes sparkled. Donovan and Tempest trotted up, and they discussed the trail they’d charted on their way back to the stables.
*******
Jarrack entered the tent before he felt secure, but the mental void in his mind cleared when he rode out of the mountain. He tried to convince himself that he’d been tired from last night’s encounter with Krystal and Donovan. He swallowed a measure of strong liquor and tested his mental control by touching Krystal’s mind. After an initial breakthrough, she’ll become more susceptible to my mental control. Soon she’ll be mine.
Krystal felt Jarrack’s touch. She clutched the crystal to her breast and felt a surge of power sweep through her body. With the crystal’s help, she repelled Jarrack’s contact like brushing off a fly.
Jarrack chuckled. “It’s not as easy as that, my dear.” He concentrated harder and seized her firmly. She twisted away and lashed out at Jarrack, clawing at his eyes like a cat with claws of fire. Unprepared for the impact of her attack, Jarrack writhed in agony, gripping his face with burning hands.
She cast me out of her mind, literally attacking me! He looked into the mirror with concern. His eyes looked red and bleary, but not really scratched or bleeding. How’d she manage this? Last night it took the combined strength of Donovan and Krystal to fight me off. Alone, Krystal should’ve been too weak to resist. What happened?
Drenched in sweat, his head throbbing and confidence shaken, Jarrack’s self-pity became rage. She can’t defeat me like this! After I trap Donovan, I’ll discover her source of power and strip it from her!
12 ~ The Horse Race
The next morning Andrew brushed Temp
est’s hide to calm the animal’s nerves. Tempest snorted at the scent of strange horses nearby. His nostrils flared, and his tail whipped across Andrew’s face.
“Easy, easy now.” Andrew crooned in a soothing voice. “You’ll show them nags that you’re the best.” Andrew held out a cruncher and the horse munched while Andrew affectionately stroked his velvety muzzle. “No one can beat you.”
Tempest nosed him, searching for another cruncher. Andrew chuckled and fed him the treat. Tempest quivered when the boy swung the saddle onto his back and tightened the cinch.
“After you win this race, no one will claim that you’re cursed. King Halder knows the curse was a traitor’s scheme to capture the throne, not an evil spirit.”
The horse leaned in and stole a cruncher from the boy’s pocket. Suddenly Tempest jerked his head high, and he stomped his feet. A dark shadow slipped into the stables and Tempest’s ears followed the gentle rustle of a wolf stirring straw as it moved closer. He snorted and stamped his front hoof, but the boy failed to notice the predator.
Donovan and Bryant entered the stable, unaware of the wolf. Tempest whinnied and flicked his tail. “He’s jumpy today,” Donovan said.
Glowing eyes watched the man from a perch atop a stack of hay bales.
“Race day jitters,” Andrew said stroking the quivering hide. “He’ll settle down once he’s running.”
Donovan rubbed Tempest’s nose. “You’ve done an excellent job, Andrew. His coat looks sleek and glossy.”
“A vigorous brushing improves performance. It opens the skin pores, stimulates the blood supply, and tones his muscles.” Andrew sounded like he quoted a school lesson.
“He’s in great condition,” Bryant said, checking hooves for cracks. “His hooves are well-trimmed and polished. I’d recommend you to anyone needing a stable hand.”
Andrew’s eyes widened. “Oh no, sire! I’d never leave Tempest!”
Donovan’s broad hand clapped the boy’s shoulder. “Bryant gave you a compliment, son. He wasn’t saying you should leave. You can take care of Tempest as long as you like.”
Andrew relaxed. “Good luck in the race, sire. I’ll be watching from the stands.” Andrew stroked Tempest’s neck with a freckled hand. “Fly like a falcon and harness the wind,” he whispered before he dashed off.
“Did you notice that he copies phrases he hears adults use?” Donovan watched the youngster’s red head bobbing along the path. “I hope we have sons like him.”
“You’ll have fine sons,” Bryant said. “I’ll check our starting position while you give him a few crunchers, capture the horse’s attention. He’s acting a might distracted.”
Donovan picked up the currycomb and ran it through the silken mane. “You’re a real beauty.” The horse snorted and pawed the ground. “What’s wrong?”
Greetings, human.
Kriegen’s mental voice startled Donovan. He pivoted too quickly and dropped the comb.
Searching the shadows, he located the wolf on his perch. “No wonder Tempest acts skittish,” he said aloud.
Greetings, Kriegen. Donovan pictured a mental greeting and held out a cruncher to Tempest. The giant horse ignored the treat and stared at the wolf. Do you mind coming down? Tempest thinks you’re ready to pounce.
Horseflesh is tasty, but we prefer younger animals. Kriegen climbed down and sat a few feet away, scratching his ear. When humans first brought horses down from the sky, we wondered why such large animals were willing to carry weaker creatures on their backs. Do you control him with those small strips of leather?
We give them directions through the reins but only after a lot of training. We domesticated horses centuries ago. They depend on us and we treat them with respect. Donovan coaxed Tempest into taking the cruncher. The horse still eyed the wolf warily, ready to stomp the creature at Donovan’s signal.
Kriegen yawned. They must lack intelligence.
No. They’re smart enough, willing to work, and we take good care of them, Donovan replied.
The evil one does not treat his horse with respect, and he thinks dark thoughts of hatred at you and your lady.
Donovan clenched his teeth. Do you know Jarrack?
We notice everything in our domain. Jarrack carries a strange black box to trap you. We thought you might need to know his plan. Kriegen panted, his pink tongue dangling against bright teeth. Good smells drift from your dwelling caves.
Would you like something to eat?
Kriegen shook his head. His ears made a flapping sound that startled Tempest. We sampled leavings, but human scent spoils the taste. We prefer fresh game. When do you ride?
The race will start soon. It’s part of the contest for the title of king.
Why?
King Halder is dying and he named me his heir. I must prove myself a fit leader by winning the Tournament.
Kriegen tilted his head. Merge with Halder and allow him to continue.
What?
You understand mind speech. Host your king’s mind and he continues as your advisor. It is the way wolves retain wisdom through generations.
Donovan nodded. I’ve noticed you say ‘we’…are you more than one mind?
Yes, this body hosts the line of Kriegen, the traditional leader of our pack. Many minds share this host. Our ancestor minds observed your species since the first day humans arrived on this world. Kriegen’s golden eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
Donovan ran fingers through his hair. When you first spoke with me, you said other humans could not speak. Why did you speak with me?
Your mind is unique and we savor new thoughts. Do you object?
No, I appreciate any help I get. Jarrack’s plan to trap me sounds serious. Donovan led Tempest outside.
Jarrack enjoys killing. We will help you avoid this trap. Kriegen shifted, nervously sniffing the air. Too many humans are near. We will wait for you on the mountain.
Kriegen glided across the compound and disappeared into the shadows. Tempest whinnied with satisfaction and butted Donovan’s shoulder. He guided the horse into the paddock, considering Kriegen’s information.
If the wolves hosted their ancestors’ minds, he could learn the entire history of Drako from eyewitness accounts. This was powerful information. He decided to keep it to himself for now. Humankind had a poor track record when dealing with sentient species. He couldn’t jeopardize a valuable ally.
Bryant appeared. “Time we started.”
Tempest shifted balance as Donovan mounted, mouthing the bit in anticipation. Remembering Kriegen’s questions, Donovan marveled at the effortless way he gained control over such a massive creature. It would be difficult to gain the confidence of untamed wolves. Bryant led Donovan to the starting gate.
“We drew excellent placement. Break clean and gain several lengths out of the block. Good luck!” Bryant patted Tempest’s withers and departed.
Tempest quivered, pawing the turf and whipping his tail.
Donovan heard betting odds shouted by ticket brokers. Colorful silk riding capes floated over a variety of riders and mounts. Greenhorn riders lined up. Some looked edgy and restless while others appeared stiff and tense. Expert horsemen sat calm, casting disdainful glances at their amateur competitors.
Donovan noticed a short oriental man. The man’s serene expression seemed out of place as he sat astride a small stocky filly. How could the man expect to compete against long-legged, sleek thoroughbreds? As if responding to Donovan’s thoughts, the oriental leaned forward and patted the mare with a sly grin. Donovan realized the rider planned to use the mountain trail to gain an advantage with the sturdy mount.
Donovan winced at Sir Hembly’s familiar scowl. The aristocrat rode a prancing bay filly. She stretched a long neck invitingly toward Tempest and shook her elegant head. Her sleek lines suggested speed and Hembly’s slender body gave him a weight advantage. Hembly sniffed a lace handkerchief before he tucked it safely into a sleeve. The pair could easily outpace Tempest on the long flat stretches, but D
onovan would gain ground over the jumps. He doubted Hembly would choose the mountain route.
Forshell rode a well-muscled desert steed with luminous white coat and gleaming silver hooves. He snarled a curse at the high-spirited creature, fighting for control inside the gate, and then cast vicious glances at other riders.
Donovan scanned the stands to find his friends. Krystal sat with Halder, Maggie, and Chella, looking invigorated. Her confidence had been bolstered by last night’s victory over Jarrack. He knew her crystal shard hung on a chain under her clothes and worried that it could sap her energy if she always kept it close.
Donovan forced himself to focus on the race. The starting bell clanged. The crowd cheered and horses charged from the gates, their hooves drumming against the hard ground.
Tempest vaulted ahead, eager to outdistance his enemies. Donovan enjoyed the sensation of the powerful muscles flexing between his knees as Tempest stretched his neck and galloped in an effortless gait. Leaning into the wind, Donovan celebrated the sensation of speed. Already lesser mounts fell behind. Hembly and Forshell pulled ahead, and amazingly, the oriental rider maintained a fourth-place position. The small man stood in the saddle and leaned over his horse’s neck. Donovan heard him shout encouragement while the churning legs of the mare kept pace with the longer strides of her opponents.
The first jump loomed ahead. Tempest leaped over the obstacle while Donovan gripped with his knees and leaned into the jump. He prayed he would stay in the saddle. A natural jumper, Tempest cleared the fence and sprang forward as he touched ground to gain a few strides. His timing was perfect! This horse could out-jump them all.
Hembly gained ground on the straight-away while Tempest soared over the jumps to regain lost ground. The long grueling course required stamina as well as speed. The oriental rider’s horse cleared the jumps on Tempest’s heels. Lungs heaving, Tempest maintained his speed as they approach the flag station.
A blood-chilling war cry startled Tempest. He stumbled. Donovan tumbled from the saddle as the oriental grabbed the first flag. Hembly cackled and Forshell charged toward Donovan. Forshell intended to stomp him into the ground. Donovan slipped into speed time and avoided the deadly hooves.