Race Riders (The Hidden Quest- Book One) Read online

  Race Riders

  Hidden Quest - Book One

  E.W. Saloka

  Copyright © 2012 E.W. Saloka

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author.

  This novel is a work of fiction any references to any real persons living or dead are intended only to give authenticity. Any names, characters or places are a product of the author’s imagination.

  Cover design by Ian Saloka and inside illustrations by Ian and William Saloka

  Book Formatting by CyberWitch Press, LLC

  Prologue

  Thunderous hoof beats echoed towards Philip as he raced through the forest. Philip was soaked down to his skin first from sweat, then from the heavy rains falling in torrential sheets around him. The ground was thick with mud and he almost slid into it waist deep. Clanking metal drowned out the shouts heard throughout the forest as Philip tried to stay one-step ahead of his pursuers. They were close on his heels determined to cut him down. Apparently his life was in danger but he couldn’t understand why.

  The Blackshire Witch had been advising Philip. She warned him to leave this place and soon. He started having awful recurring dreams that tormented him night after night. Closing his eyes briefly, he could see unsettling visions of terror and death. After spending years trapped in this non-existence he was desperate to leave. He knew there was an opening to pass from one realm to another. It was a passage hall and once or twice he found the entrance but it would quickly close up and disappear. Philip was exhausted but he had enough determination to keep trying. He was too close to give up his search. Each day he believed would be the day he would go home, and that was the hope that kept him alive.

  Stopping quickly he spied an opening to a small cave. It was partially covered with broken branches but Philip was able to crawl inside the low opening and find temporary shelter. Once inside, the blackness enveloped him and he wasn’t sure what was scurrying along the edges, but at least he was dry.

  His only remorse was leaving the child behind, but it had been too long and uneasiness grew each passing day. Philip sometimes wished the boy could go back with him, but it was best this way. Someday the child would understand. This was his fervent hope.

  Home beckoned to him with soft lights, laughter, and most of all love. Although it was dark and bleak, Philips’ heart warmed with memories of them, his lovely wife Tara and young son Zachary. He felt for the letter inside his jacket. Written several months ago, the letter explained what had happened. His only wish was to give it to her in person.

  They would start all over again. In his dreams they always did. Philip looked out, the rain had stopped and there was only silence. Perhaps they had given up or possibly were planning an ambush. He decided on the former and came out in the open. Determined to find the passage hall again, Philip went back to where he was the last time. Rounding the two corners of the grounds he saw something. “That must be it!” he shouted.

  Before him, a beautiful waterfall slowly unfolded. Reaching out he moved his hand effortlessly through the illuminated waters. Preparing to take the dive, he hesitated for only a moment. When he saw a hand clutching a pale-jeweled dagger he knew it was too late. The attacker swiftly leaned over and plunged the blade deep into Philip’s back. The hooded figure then reached down trying to snatch the amulet at the dying man’s neck. There was a rustling nearby and a young boy screamed, “Father no!” The child saw only the edge of a dark cloak disappear into the forest.

  He bent down and lie beside Philip’s near lifeless form trying to give him warmth. Philip feeling his lifeblood ebbing away, touched the child’s tear stained cheek, then before closing his eyes for the last time he faintly whispered, home.

  The boy gently placed him in the warm waters and watched as the waterfall took him away. “Goodbye father” he said, his small voice barely above a whisper. The boy slowly looked up and through his tears; he saw a glimmer of light.

  One - Upon a Winged Horse

  Beneath the clouded heavens, the snow fell as an iridescent blanket of white, sprinkled with the hope of innocence and glistening with the promise of a brighter tomorrow. Thomas Wellington was a thin figure standing in the shadows and peering intently out of his window. Tears flowed freely as he recalled happier times and earlier years without the cloak of illness. He stood suspended in the moment, when something pure as a snowfall would bring such joy. Yes it was bittersweet perhaps, but leaving him breathless just the same. The distinguished man was in his twilight years and moved a little slower but had the same twinkle of merriment in his blue eyes. Sometimes he wore lounging jackets when tired and needing to rest. At festive times, he was elegant in tweed. Today he was concerned that his young grandson was not yet home. As the snow piled up in the long driveway and the wind whistled through the trees, Thomas started to worry.

  Just then, a loud voice rang out from the doorway signaling the arrival of Zachary. “Grandfather you wouldn’t believe the snow piling up, Mr. Jakes gave me a ride on his snowmobile; otherwise I’d still be out there!”

  “Well thank goodness he did, and you might want to take off those wet clothes and put on something warm and dry” Thomas said relieved that his grandson was now safely home.

  “Good idea grandfather.” Shaking his dark wavy hair, Zach’s woolen hat fell to the floor. Snow fell in wet clumps from the discarded cap and started to melt. “I smell something delicious.” Zach said pulling off his wet boots.

  “Oh yes my boy. Mrs. Bustleton has been busy most of the afternoon preparing her delicious beef stew and my favorite biscuits,” Thomas added with a wink.

  “Stop it granddad” he said jokingly. “I can’t take anymore I’m starving, especially after that long trek in the snowstorm. I’m going to change before supper, I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time Zach I’ll be in the drawing room resting.” Thomas made his way slowly to the dimly lit room and eased his tall frame into his favorite chair by the fireside. “Ah that feels wonderful.”

  Just at that moment, a round cheeked woman with a cap of dark curls appeared in the doorway. “Is it warm enough in here for you sir? Would you like me to put another log on the fire to make it toasty?”

  “It’s fine the way it is dear woman and I cannot wait for a bowl of your famous stew. Please tell me it’s soon ready.”

  “Ready and waiting, just the way you like it. I’ll check on my biscuits and then dinner will be served, say in about fifteen minutes or so.”

  “Wonderful Mrs. Bustleton, Zachary and I look forward to another one of your splendid meals.”

  “Oh Mr. Thomas, you spoil me with all your fine compliments.” The kindly woman blushed and smiled broadly, as she left the room.

  Thomas gazed thoughtfully into the fire letting his mind wander back several years but forever etched in his mind. “Philip and Tara, you were the light of our lives and so young to be lost to us.” He shakily pulled down a silver frame, holding a picture of a smiling woman. Standing beside her in a protective embrace was his son Philip. He felt a lump in his throat as tears gathered in his eyes. So many questions surrounded Philip’s death and he had yet to find the answers. Now Tara, that was a tragedy also. He remembered that day he saw her. She was laughing, and so full of life. The rest of the day became a painful blur in his mind. There was a loud knock on the door in the middle of the night. A police officer stood there with an accident report. So much broke
n glass. In a weak voice, Tara asked him to watch young Zachary, and then on an angel’s wings, she slipped away from them.

  Tara had grieved for a few years after Philips’ disappearance. later that spring she met a man in the rain who shared her umbrella, and soon after shared her life. For a time she knew happiness, but whenever they talked about Philip her eyes would mist and Thomas could see the pain she tried to hide. That fatal night she looked peaceful as she drew her last breath and said goodbye. Now they would be together forever. No melancholy Thomas thought, that was only for the twilight hours when sleep eluded him and the memories came flooding back. Stored deep within his heart were treasures of smiles and laughs, but most of all their love.

  After the accident, sometimes late at night Thomas would hear Zach in his room unable to sleep. He would then go to his grandson with a snack for the two of them to share. As the boy grew, so did the bond between them. It worried Thomas that his failing health could cause a problem with his grandson having no other living relatives. Mrs. Bustleton said she would step in and care for Zachary; he had made that provision for the boy in his revised will. It was a few days after Dr. Balenger gave him the news concerning his heart failure. He doubted his weakened body could survive a heart transplant, but his doctor said Thomas was a good candidate for the life saving surgery. Thomas secretly believed it was because of the new wing he had donated to the hospital sometime before his illness. What was wealth anyway? not much without good health. All his money wasn’t able to buy the one thing he longed for, and that was time.

  Thomas was jolted to the present by a merry voice.

  “Granddad lets eat I’m so hungry, feed me now please!” Zach staggered comically then fell into a nearby chair.

  Thomas clapped, “Bravo, I see acting in your future.” They laughed together and walked over to the dining area.

  At the table, Mrs. Bustleton placed steaming bowls in front of them and then sashayed off to the kitchen just in time to take the fluffy rolls out of the oven. She whistled a little tune as she readied a basket with a tea towel and nestled the delicious biscuits inside. The kitchen was warm and cozy with heavenly aromas as the busy woman spooned blackberry jam into a small serving dish. Another bowl held some fresh clover honey she had purchased earlier at an outdoor market she often frequented. The good cook piled everything on a serving tray and walked proudly into the dining area.

  “Now you do not want to be forgetting these do you?” She added with a wink.

  “Ok, now that’s what I’m talking about Mrs. B.” Zachary quickly reached for the basket and grabbed a couple of warm rolls. He slathered them with blackberry jam and listened as his grandfather began to speak.

  “I saw my cardiologist today, he had my test results” and his voice trailed off. They knew the prognosis was still grim. The look in his eyes said it all. Thomas cleared his throat and slowly spoke. “You know how doctors are, but I feel fine. Maybe more tired than usual, other than that I’m good.” He returned to his meal.

  Neither one of them believed his guise but they nodded in agreement just the same. Both were hopeful that he would return to his robust health.

  Zach jumped up from his chair “I’m so full I couldn’t eat another bite.” He kissed Mrs. Bustleton’s cheek. “You are the best cook ever. Granddad I am going to work on something for school, a paper that’s soon due. I’ll have dessert later.”

  “Of course son, I’m going to read a little. I just purchased a new book and it looks delightful.”

  Zach rolled his eyes. His grandfather was a retired college professor, and the books Thomas found interesting usually put Zach to sleep but he was respectful. “Sounds great, I know you will enjoy it.”

  “It should be a real page turner Zach. Now you should get to work on your paper.”

  “Granddad, I just want you to know you’re the best ok? and maybe I don’t say that enough.”

  Thomas smiled,” you too Zach, you too.”

  The snow was still falling heavily and the roads were becoming impassable. Thomas walked into the kitchen where Mrs. Bustleton was cleaning up after their evening meal. Everything was clean and sparkling. He put his hand warmly on her shoulder. “I’m insisting you spend the night, those roads look quite treacherous. He was concerned for her safety.

  “I won’t be arguing with you Mr. Thomas. I’m staying in for the night.” She patted his hand and smiled.

  Thomas nodded, she was kind and generous of heart and he had one of the upstairs rooms decorated with soft lighting and warm furnishings especially for her, because she was a special part of their family. Mrs. Bustleton lost her husband a few years back and now lived alone, closer to town. She had many friends and was active in her church and community. The dear woman was quite the gardener, loved to paint, and was busy as a bee. She had been with them for many years and their friendship was special to him.

  “Let me know if you need anything Mr. Thomas, I’m going to my room to work on my knitting. I just dusted the blueberry turnovers with powdered sugar, if you and Zachary want to have a bite later on.”

  “That sounds delicious; maybe later. Right now I’m going to my room to read.” Making his way upstairs he paused at the window. It was picturesque, the trees glistened with tiny ice crystals and it looked magical. Thomas picked up his book and rested on the window seat. The pillows were soft and inviting. If he felt a chill, he could wrap one of the throws around his shoulders and still enjoy the beauty below. Trying to become engrossed in his book, he read a few pages.

  In another room, Zach was also at the window taking a break from his report. He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer for his grandfather. “Please help him,” he said. “I need him in my life. Granddad is all I have.” His voice broke off. “I can’t lose him too, I wish I could do something…”

  Thomas grew tired and closed his eyes, he thought for only a short while. When he glanced at the nearby clock, he was surprised it was past midnight. Peering out at the winter wonderland, all seemed still and white. It was then Thomas saw something unusual and rubbed his eyes. “I’m losing touch with reality,” he mumbled. “I could swear there is a winged horse standing by my tree!” He looked out again. “This must be a dream, wake up old man and now.” He pinched himself a few times. “Ouch that hurts, this is real!” What a beautiful creature he was. It seemed to be beckoning him as it tossed its’ silver mane. Flecks of sparkling blue danced off his fur. It was majestic in sight and Thomas couldn’t believe his eyes. He excitedly called his grandson. “Zach come quick, please come now!”

  Zach came running into his grandfather’s room. “What is it?” he mumbled sleepily, “Are you alright?”

  “I think we may need to define alright! Do you see something outside the window?”

  Zach rubbed his eyes a few times. “Yeah, I see a horse and it has wings and that’s pretty weird!” Now he was fully awake and as amazed as his grandfather. “I wonder why it’s here?”

  “I don’t know it just appeared. I thought it was a dream but we both see him so it must be real.” Thomas was trying to make logic out of the midnight visit.

  “Grandfather this is crazy, winged horses only exist in fantasy stories and mythology. We’re probably both dreaming.

  “Fine, then you tell him he doesn’t exist.” Thomas said folding his arms.

  Meanwhile the winged horse looked directly towards them and fluttered its magnificent feathered wings. The falling snow swirled with each beat. The creature then shook its head up and down while his gleaming eyes still centered on the two watching at the window.

  Suddenly turning around, the horse looked over its shoulder and stomped his silver hoof so loudly it caused the window to rattle.

  “Quick, let’s put on some clothes and see what this is all about.” Thomas straightened up and felt compelled to investigate a little further.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but we need to go and find out why he came for us. Look, do you trust me?” Thomas placed his hands on his grand
son’s shoulders.

  “Yeah, I guess we should check it out.” Zach looked out the window at the winged horse as it reared up on his hind legs shaking his silver mane.

  Zach wasn’t sure what else to say because when a winged horse shows up in your yard, it’s an astonishing event to say the least!

  “There’s something you should know Zach, this may not be the best time to tell you but I don’t seem to have a choice. Your fathers’ death was not an accident.” Thomas took a deep breath trying to find the right words; “I believe someone took his life.”

  “I need to know why this happened and who did it. This horse can lead us to finding some answers. When Philip’s body was discovered,” Thomas paused for a moment, “I found a letter inside his jacket, it was addressed to your mother and there he explained where he had been all this time and how he was trying to come back home. I know it’s hard to believe and I hardly believe it myself, but I need to find out what happened to my son. I have been trying to make sense out of this for many years. Obviously Zach this is an intelligent horse and not from our world. I know I’m quite ill and before I die…. I must do this for Philip.”

  Zach stood there speechless for a moment, than a strange and determined look crossed his face thinking of the lost years without his father. “I’m going too!” He said with authority in his voice.” I want to know who killed my dad.”

  He quickly ran into his room rummaging through the closet searching for his favorite hoodie. When he returned, Thomas was fully dressed and ready to leave.

  The pair made their way down the stairs only stopping to grab warm scarves from the coat rack. Thomas buttoned his coat and wrapped his scarf securely around his neck. Opening the front door to a cold blast of air, he scarcely noticed drifts of windblown snow that had piled up along the driveway.

  Keeping his gaze fixed on the silver horse, he slowly made his way to the ice covered trees. The majestic beast was quiet as Thomas approached. The old man nodded and the horse lowered so Thomas could easily climb upon him.