Page 17 of Wind Rider

Death knew everything.

With renewed excitement Iron Fist loosed the canoe and headed downstream and back into the Channel, eager to give such good news to his master.

CHAPTER 4

TWO YEARS IN THE PAST—THE PLAINS OF THE WIND RIDERS—NEAR HERD MAGENTI’S SPRING CAMPSITE

River knew she and Anjo were being tracked before the Flyer sounded its death call. She’d felt Anjo’s uneasiness through their bond, but had initially thought that the two-year-old was just nervous because today was the day they’d agreed on for River’s first official ride—something she and her filly had been anticipating for an entire year. Today, after seventeen years of wishing and waiting, dreaming and desiring, River was going to become a Wind Rider.

So, instead of trusting her horse and pausing to search the sky and the prairie around them for signs of trouble, River sent soothing thoughts to Anjo, assuring her that all was well—that they were ready for their maiden ride—and then River picked up their pace, jogging quickly beside Anjo and putting more distance between them and the spring campsite for Herd Magenti. Her thinking had been half good. River had reasoned that Anjo’s nerves would calm if there was no chance of anyone interrupting them, and if she was being completely honest she agreed with her Companion. Two-year-olds were usually ridden slowly, gently, and under the watchful eyes of mature horses and their Riders, but as usual, Anjo and River were in agreement.

They weren’t justanytwo-year-old/Rider pair. Ever since that wonderful day a year ago when Anjo had chosen River, Herd Magenti had beenabuzz with speculation about the next Lead Mare—and that speculation was almost unanimously aimed at Anjo and River. It was justified. Anjo was growing into an exquisite filly, and with Echo’s decade of reign as Lead Mare coming to an end in another year, it was natural that the Herd was considering who would be the next Lead Mare/Rider team. And it was also natural for the Herd to look to the talented daughter of the Rider of the mare that had led them in a decade that had been prosperous and had seen unequaled births of strong, healthy foals as well as content Riders. It wasn’t possible for Rivernotto hear the gossip and the musings, and she usually didn’t let the talk bother her. As her mother consistently told her:River, just focus on being the best version of you—not the version of you others want you to be.But that didn’t mean River or Anjo wanted an audience for their first ride.

Which was why they’d set out at dawn, jogging determinedlyawayfrom the sprawling Herd and looking for privacy.

The shrill cry of a Flyer had Anjo tossing her head and snorting as she sent River waves of fear.

“Ssh, it’s okay, Anjo. I don’t see anything yet.” River cupped her hand over her eyes against the glare of the bright spring morning as she studied the sky behind them. The Flyer’s distant cry had seemed to come from in front of them, but the dangerous creatures had the ability to throw their voices. Unsuspecting prey trying to escape from the death cry of a Flyer ran right into the hunting path of the creature. But River was far from unsuspecting. “We have time. Look, the cross timber line is there.” River pointed at the distant smudge of green that seemed impossibly far away. Flyers only attacked their prey on the open prairie. They were unable to dive and latch onto their victims under the cover of even scrubby trees. “We’ll be safe in there. Come on—I’ll hang on and keep up with you.” River wound her hand into Anjo’s long mane so that as the big filly increased her speed from a trot to a canter, she would practically pull River with her.

But Anjo wasn’t having it. She slid to a stop, snorted at River, butted her gently with her head, and then—as if it was an everyday occurrence—bowed to her knees, ready to be mounted.

“You know we shouldn’t. Your bones might not be ready to carry me while you run. We can’t mess up our future—all the decades we have together—and chance an injury, or worse, a break. No, I’ll keep up if I hold on to you. Like I said, we have time.”

The Flyer’s scream sounded again—this time closer. River searched the sky behind them. Her stomach roiled when she sighted the black silhouette circling in the distance, getting closer and closer with each wing stroke. From River’s vantage point the creature looked deceptively like a harmless vulture. But River knew better. Flyers were able to appear like vultures from below—though instead of feathers they had leathery wings with scales and dark fur that covered their bulbous bodies. And instead of being harmless carrion eaters, they only ate fresh kills, preferring to consume prey slowly while it was alive after diving from the sky to attack. One small bite from a Flyer’s razor-tipped beak flooded prey with poison that caused instant paralysis, so the creature could eat slowly as its living meal suffered silently—unable to move or even scream for help.

Anjo snorted again and tossed her head fretfully, but she remained kneeling, even when the Flyer screamed its hunting cry once more—this time much, much closer. Anjo’s body trembled, and she filled River’s mind with an intense need to flee.

“You’re right. We won’t have a future if a Flyer bites either of us.” River moved to Anjo’s head, looking into her Companion’s beautiful brown eye. “We’re going to be careful. We’re only going to go fast enough to get to the cross timbers before the Flyer reaches us.” She rested her hand on her filly’s broad forehead. “This isn’t how I thought our first ride would be.”

Anjo’s swishing tail said that she agreed.

Moving quickly but carefully, River went to Anjo’s shoulder, grabbed a handful of mane, and then slid onto her filly’s wide, smooth back.

Anjo stood easily, prancing a little to the side as she got used to River’s weight. River had, of course, lain over her filly’s back many, many times during the past year—readying Anjo to bear her weight slowly, gently. No horse in any of the Wind Rider Herds was ever rushed to carrya Rider, which was one of the reasons horse-and-Rider pairs remained sound and healthy for many decades. Anjo was already used to her slight weight, though River had never sat fully on her filly’s back until that moment.

Even with a Flyer stalking them, River was filled with excitement and pride. She leaned forward and stroked Anjo’s smooth neck. “You’re doing great—actually you’re perfect!”

The Flyer screamed again, shrill and loud—which seemed to come from directly ahead of them. River didn’t waste time staring behind them; she knew what she would see—a dark silhouette closing on them from above and behind. She gripped Anjo’s sides with her thighs. “Let’s get out of here!”

Anjo leaped forward into a smooth, effortless canter. River leaned over her neck, sending her encouragement but also murmuring, “Easy, easy, Anjo. We have time. Keep it easy, perfect girl.”

The filly’s stride was strong and true, and though River had been riding since before she could walk, she felt a huge rush of joy at the smoothness of Anjo’s canter.

And then it happened. The amazing, miraculous bond that had begun that day one year before when Anjo had Chosen River expanded, strengthened, and was finally complete. River gasped as new sensations flooded her. Suddenly her sense of smell heightened, though not as much as her sight, which became crystalline sharp and expanded far past her limited human ability. And Riverknewthings a human couldn’t. She couldfeelthat they were being hunted—senseimminent danger coming from the sky. She also shared Anjo’s barely controlled panic and automatically sent soothing thoughts to the filly.We’re going to make it to the trees. We’re going to be fine.Then the power washed through her. River could feel her filly’s strength as her muscles warmed and flexed and her hooves pounded into the soft, verdant ground.

“Oh, Anjo! This is what Mother and the other Riders talk about—this sharing of senses that you only understand when you’re a Wind Rider. It’s incredible!” The filly’s ears twitched back to catch her words, andRiver laughed because her hearing, too, was bonded to Anjo’s and had become clearer.

“SKRAAW! SKRAAW!”

The screech sent a skitter of fear through filly and Rider. This time River’s heightened equine senses screamedDANGERand she swiveled at the waist to peer up at the sky behind them.

The Flyer was closing on them. In moments the predator would fold its scaly wings and dive at them.

River checked the distance to the approaching tree line and knew that unless they moved faster they simply would not make it. Her fingers twitched against Anjo’s mane, aching to unwind the leather strap from around her waist, fit the short throwing spear into it, turn her filly, and attack the Flyer with the momentum of a thousand-pound, galloping horse behind her spear toss. But she and Anjo hadn’t practiced spear throwing—not yet. None of the two-year-old horse/Rider pairs did until their bond was completed after their maiden ride. River was a decent shot, but she didn’t want their lives to rest on her inexperience.

Silently, River berated herself for not bringing her lasso, the throwing rope she’d been practicing using since she was a child. The lasso came easy to her, and River had no doubt that she could snap a noose around a diving Flyer’s neck.I will never leave my rope behind again!

No—she couldn’t attack the Flyer, not as long as they were on the open prairie. So River made her decision quickly. She leaned low over Anjo’s neck, gripped the filly tighter with her thighs, and spoke the words the young horse was poised to hear.