Skyrider of Renegade Point Read online

  Contents

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Author's Note

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  © 2019 Erik Christensen

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by copyright law. For permissions contact:

  [email protected]

  Dedication

  The great paradox of love is that by sharing our lives, we seem to have more of it.

  This book is dedicated to my new spousal unit, Diana. Since meeting her, I’ve had more fun, more excitement, more friendship, and more adventure than I ever expected out of life. I’m not even sure how it’s possible, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with corgis. All I know for sure is that I want this ride to last forever.

  Heinlein once said that love is a condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. For the first time, I think I’m finally able to grok what he meant.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  This book is intended to be read after its predecessor, The Defender of Rebel Falls. While it stands on its own story-wise, there is plenty of background information in the initial book of the series that adds to this one. If you haven’t read it yet, you can find it at your favorite bookseller’s web site.

  I also wrote a collection of short stories that take place between Defender and Skyrider, called The Smuggler’s of Tighpool. Again, it is not strictly necessary to read these before Skyrider, but I think it will add to your enjoyment. Smugglers is available to those who subscribe to my newsletter (you can unsubscribe any time you want, but seriously, I have no idea why you would want to do that!)

  Like Defender, this book is neither pure science fiction or fantasy. It’s an adventure tale that combines elements of both those genres. It has dragons, but no magic. It has aliens, but no spaceships. But most of all, I’ve tried to instill as much excitement into the story as possible.

  I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

  Happy Reading!

  Erik Christensen

  Chapter 1

  William Whitehall clung to his mare’s neck as they thundered along the forest paths. His heart pounding with both excitement and anger, he kept his head low to avoid low branches as they whipped past. As they rounded a corner, he spotted his quarry: a small rider on a chestnut bay, cloak flapping behind like a flag in a storm. As they made another turn, the other rider pulled out of sight.

  He urged his mare to even greater speed, trusting her to avoid the many obstacles in their path and not crash into a tree or toss him off her back. Soon, they emerged from the dark confines of the woods into bright open pastures, and he demanded even more from her. The other rider was still several lengths ahead.

  William’s mare gained steadily as they sprinted across the open fields, but lost ground on every jump over a fence or hedge. The other rider was skilled.

  Finally, a large, open field gave William the chance he needed. His mare surged forward, free to find her top speed, heedless of the clumps of dirt flying from the hooves of their adversary. They were just in reach when the other rider swerved in front of them, slowing William’s mare, then leaped effortlessly over a tall hedge.

  His momentum lost, William dared not jump. He found an opening and cantered through to the other side, where he found the other rider waiting for him.

  “You cheated!” said William.

  Jack Doran, dark, short, and slender, grinned back at him. “I created an advantage for myself,” he replied. “You left me no choice, since you stuck me with the slower horse.”

  “You started early,” said William. “And then you blocked me before the last jump. Just once, I’d like to have a fair contest with you.”

  Jack pointed at the hunting bag strapped to William’s saddle-bag. “You already won a fair contest. Five ducks to my zero.”

  “And you lost seven of my arrows.”

  “Don’t tell Rachel, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” said Jack. “How did you get so good at hunting?”

  William shrugged, his anger dissipating. “I hunt almost every day. It’s either that, or I don’t eat. And you know what my appetite is like now that I’m living the country life.”

  Jack stared back at him with an incredulous look. “You’re the baron of Whitehall Manor, and you can’t afford to buy meat? Are things really that bad?”

  “We’re going through some tough times,” said William as he looked away. “Late winter is always difficult. Anyway, let’s get to the mill. I want to show you something.”

  They rode the short distance side by side, arriving moments later at the base of a gentle slope. “Busy place,” said Jack as he gazed at the small crowd.

  William grumbled. “I hate winter,” he said.

  Jack frowned a little. “When did you become such a wimp? This is the mildest winter in years.”

  William sighed as he shook his head. “Not the weather…them,” he said, pointing at the throng winding their way up the path ahead. “I never spent much time on farms in winter, but I know people don’t wander about doing nothing. I know for a fact there’s plenty of work to be done.”

  “The boot’s on the other foot now, isn’t it?” asked Jack with a smirk. “Before you became Lord William it didn’t matter how hard farmers worked. But now you’re a baron, and all you see is who’s busy and who’s not.”

  William turned slowly, his eyes betraying the sting of Jack’s comment. “Now hang on a second. I did plenty of harvest work myself—more than you did, that’s for sure—so I know the summer is busier. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to do. Look at the place…broken fences, unfurrowed fields, even messy yards. The quiet time before planting is the perfect opportunity to tend to those chores.”

  “Relax, Will. I’m pulling your leg. You’re right, though. I don’t see this kind of lazing about around Rebel Falls, but maybe sheep farms are different. What’s everyone staring at, anyway?”

  William grinned. “That’s what I wanted to show you. Come on.” William led the way up the path, while the crowd parted before him, some bowing, others wishing him good morning. He waved back, hiding his displeasure at their idleness with a smile, and continued until they reached a tall wooden structure.

  “I’ve seen your mill before,” said Jack as he slid off his horse. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Look,” said William, pointing to a large object dangling from a window halfway up the structure.

  “What on Esper is that?” asked Jack, his eyes wide.

  “The millstone,” said William
, his face beaming with pride.

  Jack stared in amazement. “King’s giant bunions…how big is it?”

  “Oh, about eight hundred pounds.”

  Jack turned to William, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “Eight hundred…do you realize that’s the—”

  “The biggest millstone in Azuria. Yep. And only two or three bigger on all of Esper.”

  Jack shook his head in disbelief. “Now that’s a risky venture. Are you sure there’s a market for it?”

  “Ruskin says he’s certain. Plenty of baronies have no mills of their own, even the older ones. With a big stone like this, and a steady stream with a good dam to power it, we can service everyone within miles. And when we finish the canal, farmers can ship their flour to Marshland, or even Faywater Port.”

  Jack peered again toward the mill. “Where is Ruskin, anyway? Shouldn’t he be bossing the gang?”

  William shrugged. “He’s probably inside the mill, although it’s anyone’s guess whether it’s him or the millwright who’s running things.”

  Jack pointed at the dangling millstone. “I’m not sure anyone is. Should it be bouncing around so much?”

  William swore under his breath as the stone swung, banging against the mill as it spun. Framed in timber, mere contact with the wall wouldn’t damage it—in fact, the opposite was more likely—but his knuckles turned white as he clenched his riding gloves. “I hope he remembers how much gold we spent on that.”

  Jack snickered. “I remember when you were anxious over coppers. My, how your life has changed.”

  “It’s not exactly an improvement,” snapped William.

  “If you say so,” said Jack with a shrug. “I’d rather be rich and worried than poor and worried.”

  “I’m hardly rich. I just have bigger expenses and bigger worries. Like—oh, for crying out loud…” As the men above pulled the ropes, the wooden frame caught itself on a wooden beam jutting from the mill. No one warned them of the snag, and the men continued to pull while William held his breath.

  Jack’s eyes widened with concern. “Shouldn’t you tell Ruskin?”

  A sharp crack rang out from the frame as the men pulled harder. A piece of timber flew off, exposing the stone’s gray surface. “No time,” said William. He shouted to the crowd near the mill. “Get out of the way! Move, move!” He ran toward them, waving his arms to urge them to safety. Above him, the frame cracked again, and screams filled the air. William looked up in time to see the stone break free, fall in silence, and land with a terrible crash on the front steps of the mill.

  The steps propelled the stone toward a crowd of dumbfounded children. William dispersed them as best he could, but there were too many to move at once. As the stone bore down on them, one child remained, but as he reached for the lad, someone pushed him from behind, sending him hurtling toward the side of the path. He hit his head on a sharp rock, and for a moment his ears rang and his vision went dark. As his head cleared, he rolled over to find Jack on top of him.

  “Are you crazy?” asked Jack. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

  William pushed Jack away, jumped to his feet, and began searching frantically. “What happened to that boy?” he asked. “The stone was headed right for him!”

  Jack grabbed his arm and whirled him around. “You idiot! It wasn’t headed for him—it was about to hit you. You could have been flattened.”

  William spotted the boy on the ground, groaning and clutching his leg. He ran to him, ignoring Jack. “Did the stone hit you?” he asked.

  “Yes, m’Lord,” said the boy through gritted teeth. “It scraped my leg bad. What happened to your head?”

  William gently pulled the boy’s hands away and looked. The stone had torn away not only the boy’s threadbare pant leg, but plenty of skin as well, leaving a bloody wound in its place. William suppressed a shudder and reached into his coat pocket, finding a clean silk handkerchief. “My head is fine—I just bumped it on something,” he said. He locked eyes with the boy and smiled. “Let’s take care of your leg. This will sting a bit, but I have to cover the wound to keep it clean. Can you be brave while I do that?”

  Tears welled up in the boy’s frightened eyes as he nodded. He barely flinched as William tied the silk cloth around his leg and secured it with two more. His demeanor changed as he watched, his fear turning to curiosity. “Are you a healer too?” he asked. “That wasn’t in the books.”

  William smiled as he tied the last makeshift bandage. “A good friend taught me. She was in those books too, and she’s the best doctor I ever met. One time, after wolves attacked us, she cut my leg open and removed this.” He reached under his shirt and pulled out a necklace.

  The boy’s eyes bugged out. “Is that the wolf’s tooth?”

  “Yep. Nasty thing was rotting two or three inches under my skin, poisoning my blood. She cut my leg open, found the tooth, removed it, and stitched me closed well enough to walk just minutes later.”

  “Are you going to cut my leg open?” the boy asked, the fear evident in his eyes.

  William laughed. “No, you’ll be fine if you keep the wound clean and covered. Oh, here’s Ruskin.”

  A middle-aged man with a trimmed iron-gray beard ran up to William. “Apologies, Lord William,” he said in a grave voice. “The frame got stuck and the men didn’t think to stop pulling. We’re about to go look for the stone now.”

  “Hello Ruskin. Never mind the stone for now. Find out if anyone else is hurt, then let’s get this fellow to the manor.”

  The boy shook his head with fear. “Oh, I can’t go there! Mama and Papa said never go to the manor.”

  Ruskin peered at William’s face. “It looks like you were hurt too, sir. Your forehead’s been sliced wide open.”

  William touched his forehead and grinned at the blood on his fingers. “So I have. We can thank Jack for that.”

  “Oh sure,” said Jack, rolling his eyes. “Blame me for the forehead, but don’t bother thanking me for saving the rest of you.”

  “I’ll thank you later,” said William. “But first, help me get…what’s your name?”

  “Rico,” said the boy.

  “Let’s find Rico a nice bed upstairs. He should stay off his feet for a while.”

  Ruskin’s impatience showed through his deference. “Lord William, you really should get your own wound tended to. The young lad can rest at home as well as anywhere.”

  William was about to answer but was distracted by a woman’s scream. “Rico! What happened to you?” A young woman hurried to Rico and cradled him in her arms.

  “We had a little accident with the millstone, and it scraped his leg as it rolled past him,” said William.

  The woman turned as though seeing him for the first time and gasped. “Pardon, m’Lord. I didn’t realize Rico was causing you trouble. I’ll take him home right away.”

  “Now, don’t hurry. Rico didn’t do anything wrong,” said William. He gave a sidelong glance at Ruskin. “In fact, we should have cleared the area before lifting an eight-hundred-pound rock thirty feet in the air.”

  “Lesson learned, my lord,” said Ruskin. “Perhaps we should let Rico’s mother take him home now.”

  “Nonsense,” said William. “He’ll be comfortable at the manor until his leg is healed.”

  Rico’s mother stared at him as though in shock. “Oh, we couldn’t impose, m’Lord. Rico, get up, we’ve taken quite enough of the lord’s time.” Rico winced as his mother lifted him, and the two rushed away as quickly as the boy’s injured leg would allow.

  William turned to Ruskin. “Why wouldn’t they want him to rest on a comfortable bed?”

  Ruskin shrugged, but Jack spoke up. “If you were injured, where would you rather be—in your old house in your old bed, or in Earl Bradford’s manor?”

  “Well, when you put it that way—”

  “Lord William, sir?” Two girls looked up at William, the younger one hiding behind the older. Both had dirty yellow hair and fad
ed, ragged dresses, and too little cover for the damp cold.

  “What do you need, girls?” asked Ruskin. “Lord William is busy right now.”

  “Hang on Ruskin, they might be injured,” said William. “Are you hurt, girls?”

  The older one, about nine years old, shook her head. She turned to the younger one. “Tell him,” she said.

  “You tell him!” insisted the younger one, her missing front teeth whistling as she spoke.

  The older one sighed. “My sister is scared to tell you,” she said.

  “So are you,” said the younger one, unwilling to be singled out. “Besides, I wasn’t the only one who saw it.”

  “Fine,” said the older one with another sigh. She turned again to William. “Will we get in trouble if we tell you bad news, m’Lord?”

  William chuckled. “I promise I won’t get mad if you tell me the truth. And I have a pretty good idea—”

  “The big rock busted into a hundred pieces!” yelled the younger sister, who then hid behind her sister.

  “It wasn’t a hundred pieces,” the older one scolded. “It was only about twenty.”

  “A hundred just means a lot,” complained the younger. “It’s not even a real number.”

  William groaned and shared a disappointed look with Ruskin before answering the girls. “A hundred is a real number, but twenty isn’t any better.”

  “What happened to your head?” asked the small one as she pointed at William’s wounded forehead.

  Ruskin waved the girls away. “Run along now. You’ve given his lordship the news, so off with you.”

  William frowned at Ruskin as the girls scurried away in fear. “Why did you have to speak to them that way? I’ve never known you to be rude to children before. They were brave to tell me the news, and now next time they might be too scared.”

  “I suppose I was a little shorter than I needed to be,” said Ruskin. “But we really can’t avoid dealing with this. And at the risk of repeating myself, you have a wound that needs tending.”