Free Novel Read

Red Rider Revolution




  JOIN THE REVOLUTION

  PRAISE FOR The Red Rider

  “I’m always fascinated when I read a debut novel that captivates me from start to finish. Where a novel is so wellwritten that I’m in awe of the author’s writing as well as their ability to tell an amazing story. There are stories with great writing styles. Those that have amazing plots. Those that sustain your attention with every word. Ones that exceed your expectations of great lines, with a satisfying ending. Mr. Dunn accomplished all of these aspects. I can only hope that the right person will come across The Red Rider and turn it into a movie that is sure to be a box-office hit.”

  Kym McNabney, Story Contributor, Childhood Regained: Stories of Hope for Asian Child Workers by Jodie Renner and Steve Hooley

  ( ( (

  “Action filled novel. Journey of a teenage girl. A story of love, courage, friendship and more. The author has got it all in this book.”

  Jay Deb, author of The Assassin and Contrived ( ( ( “I got sucked in from the beginning. … I was up all n ight reading, imagining and feeling for this poor girl that had her Grand'Mere murdered in front of her, and the whole town not believing her. Not to mention horrid town boys that beat on her because she is ugly and scarred. …

  This story has heartbreak and twists and adventure all rolled into one. … This is a book to let a young woman read to teach about inner strength and what one young girl can do against so many odds. That one action can accomplish so much.

  This book gets my absolute seal of approval. I could even picture this story on the big screen!

  Angi Burns ~Rabid Readers Book Blog

  “Dunn’s unauthorized sequel to Little Red Riding Hood blends great characters with a compelling storyline and places it in the middle of a legendary premise.

  … a well-told story about seeking justice rather than revenge and finding a way to properly overcome evil. What I liked best about this tale was that this little girl was a flawed character—and she seemed to have all rights to believe the way she believed and think the way she thinks—but Dunn is careful not to glorify the fact she wants revenge. In fact, the story is about Red learning through her quest to destroy the wolves that revenge will, in fact, destroy herself. It’s a big concept and Dunn does it well.”

  Josh Olds, Life is Story

  WHAT READERS ARE SAYING

  “This book was fantastic!!!!!!! Once I started reading I couldn't put it down. A fantastic twist on the original Red Riding Hood. Helena is my hero.”

  ( ( (

  “Fantastic book. If you enjoyed Little Red Riding Hood when you were a child, you will love this book. It has mystery, adventure,

  and suspense. Once you start to read it you won't be able to stop until you finish it. This is the first time I have read anything by this author but he has found a fan of his writings. He is an amazing storyteller.”

  ( ( (

  “It didn't take long to be engrossed in the book. While the story

  takes place in France a long time ago, it has a contemporary feel to it. The story moves quickly …You find yourself rooting for the main character. The plot of who's good and who's evil eventually unfolds. But Dunn takes his time revealing things. That's what's engrossing. What I like is the very faint thread of God in the plot. He's part of things here and there. I'll certainly buy the next Randall Allen Dunn novel if it's as good as this one.” “Fantastic, suspenseful brilliant retelling of Red Riding Hood. A story of wolves and black magic. How the beautiful, innocent child Helena, becomes the physically scarred, determined, skillful hunter of wolves. How the stuff of nightmares becomes reality for a whole community, and a young woman's strength and overwhelming desire to completely destroy the terror that haunts her dreams and waking moments. Powerful imagery, wonderful storytelling. I thoroughly recommend it.”

  ( ( ( “Definitely not what I expected. There were plenty of twists and turns packed into this book. A good read for any fairytale/fantasy lover.”

  ( ( (

  “The Red Rider is a well written book that will remind you of the Little Red Riding Hood story. The book is full of adventure, mystery, twists and turns with a fair amount of moral teachings

  included. This is a book that would be excellent for young teens and adults alike.” ( ( (

  “Imagine Little Red Riding Hood being scarred by her traumatic encounter with the big bad wolf, and imagine that the big bad wolf ‘isn't a wolf,’ as she insists, since it walked upright and

  spoke to her like a human being. Then let her grow into an angry teenager, give her a red cape, a reloading crossbow and a grappling hook, and gallop with her on her one-supergirl-war against a coven of big bad wolves. The Red Rider is a teen actionfantasy hero and that is how the novel reads. No spoilers here: The suspense with author Randall Allen Dunn is just how dark this fantasy will turn, as he takes the white-washed premise of the Brothers Grimm and gets much, much grimmer. … a great fit with the grown-up fairy-tale versions of recent years that has emerged in both print and film. I recommend it with pleasure.

  RED RIDER REVOLUTION by

  Randall Allen Dunn

  Copyright © 2017 by Randall Allen Dunn Randall Allen Dunn writes stories of action, adventure, and infinite possibility, as well as suspenseful tales about ordinary people choosing to become heroes.

  You can find Randall Allen Dunn’s other stories wherever online books are sold. You can follow him on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Pinterest, and Goodreads, and you can subscribe to his Packing Action Newsletter Datafile at RandallAllenDunn.com. Please send comments to: Randall@RandallAllenDunn.com

  Randall Allen Dunn writes stories of action, adventure, and infinite possibility, as well as instructional books about writing.

  You can follow him on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Goodreads and YouTube, and follow his Packing Action blog at www.RandallAllenDunn.com.

  You can send comments or feedback to Randall@RandallAllenDunn.com

  FICTION The Red Rider

  Red Rider Revolution

  Den

  High Adventure: The Solomon Ring of Kilimanjaro

  NON-FICTION Making Fiction Funny! How to Create Story Humor

  RED RIDER REVOLUTION

  by Randall Allen Dunn

  MY VICTORY

  1.

  The laughter and shouts in La Maison de Touraine abruptly died, as if someone had sucked the wind from each man’s lungs. At the bar counter, the tavern’s owner, Gerard Touraine, paused in the middle of polishing a mug. He gaped, like everyone else, at the oak double doors that stood open, ushering in a chill night wind.

  Siegfried Simonet stood there, flanked by four other rough-looking men. His belly had grown since the last time anyone saw him, though his face remained gaunt as a ghost. He stared back at the men, surveying each horrified face as they fidgeted in their seats to shrink away from him. Finally, Simonet stepped fully inside, letting his friends shut the doors. He moved, almost glided, to the center of the room and slowly turned, addressing everyone in a calm voice.

  “You may all leave,” he said. There was a moment’s hesitation. Then everyone stoo d and moved out the front door as quickly as Simonet’s men would allow them.

  The entire room cleared within a minute, leaving Simonet and his band alone with Touraine.

  One man locked the front doors.

  Simonet strode toward him. “Gerard Touraine. No doubt this visit comes as a surprise.”

  Touraine polished his mug slowly. He cleared his throat with a slight stutter. “YYou were the Duke’s advisor, weren’t you? Haven’t seen you since -.”

  “Since the royal ball, two months ago,” Simonet finished. He patted his protruding belly. “I’ve been preoccupied since then.”

  He
stepped closer to the counter. Touraine stiffened and lifted his chin.

  “You’ve … had business elsewhere?”

  “My business remains here, regardless of the other places I travel to conduct it. I’ve been preoccupied with the events of the past year which led up to that night at the masquerade ball.” He fixed his gaze. “You were serving there.”

  It was not a question. Simonet had a keen sense for details.

  “Yes.” Touraine cleared his throat again. “Yes, the Duke asked me to serve, since the people know me well.”

  “And you know them. You probably know something about every common man, woman and child in La Rue Sauvage.” He sat at a stool and leaned across the counter. “Even Helena Basque.”

  Touraine quivered. He licked his lips, recovering. “Eh – of course. ‘Course I do. Helena Basque, the, uh – the girl who lost her family.”

  Simonet nodded with a slight smile. “They were killed by wolves. – If you recall.”

  Touraine wiped his forehead. “Yes. Yes, I heard that. Her parents and her sister, right?”

  Simonet lifted his chin, as if waiting for more. He folded his hands with a look of waning tolerance. His bulky companions spread out around the room, two of them approaching opposite ends of the counter. “You surely remember how she reacted.”

  “Yes,” Touraine confessed. “She, ah – she told everyone that, uh – they weren’t really wolves. She told people they were some sort of monsters.”

  Simonet studied him quietly. He leaned forward again, his fingers still interlaced. “She told you.”

  Touraine took a step back, looking alarmed and confused. “Me? What makes you think -?”

  “I’ve thought about it a great deal, Monsieur,” Simonet said in a scolding tone. “It occurred to me that for a sixteen-year old like Mademoiselle Basque to learn about those so-called ‘monsters’ and find them, she would have needed information. Someone to go to for town gossip. Someone whose information she could rely on, on a regular basis.” He offered a grim smile. “Someone like you, Monsieur.”

  Sweat trickled from Touraine’s forehead. He made no move to wipe it away. “Monsieur Simonet. I don’t know what – what your business is with Duke Laurent or these wolves, and I don’t want to. But I’ve had no dealings with Helena Basque except to give her some water here at the counter a couple of times.”

  “You were also there at the royal ball, Monsieur Touraine. You saw me there.”

  “Yes, well – I never saw you as a wolf. I have no reason to believe you’re one of them.”

  “One of who, Monsieur?”

  Touraine paled. His mouth hung open, his lip quivering.

  “The word you’re searching for, Monsieur Touraine, is ‘Lycanthru’. That’s the name of our order. Those of us who can transform ourselves into wolves.”

  “Monsieur, I don’t need to know anything about this.”

  Simonet rose, planted both palms on the counter and leaned across it. “You already know, Monsieur.”

  The men flanking Touraine moved behind the counter. They each took a step toward him.

  “But you have not had firsthand knowledge, apart from the Duke’s party,” Simonet continued casually. “To experience for yourself what others described.”

  The other four men reached inside their waistcoats. Each one produced a thin flask and uncorked it, releasing a sulfurous odor into the air. They gulped down their serums and grinned at Touraine.

  “Until tonight,” Simonet finished.

  The man by the window set his flask aside and stood with his arms apart to greet the moonlight shining down on him. Then his face changed, his grinning lips widening, his ears extending toward the top of his head. His nose and chin grew, stretching over his chest to form a canine snout. His fingers sharpened into claws that tore away his clothes, shredding them until he stood naked. Dark brown hair bristled from his jaws as he fell to his knees and a furry animal tail sprouted behind him. He lowered his head as pointed ears appeared on top of it. Then he raised his yellow eyes and stood on his hind legs as an enormous brown wolf. He whirled at Touraine, grinning like a demon.

  “You see?” Simonet said, as Touraine tried to gather his breath. “You will now tell us where to find Helena Basque so we can tend to her. It is your choice whether to tell me in a calm voice or between screams.”

  Touraine shook his head. His feet shuffled backward on the wooden floor. “Monsieur, you’re – you’re mistaken. I – I haven’t been talking to Helena Basque. About anything.”

  “In fact, Monsieur, you have told her everything. Every piece of information you gathered to help her in her little war against us.” He grinned at Touraine. “How else could she have known where to find us?”

  I had seen enough. I stepped into the room from the entryway behind the counter, my red cloak wafting from my shoulders.

  “Perhaps I’m smarter than you think,” I said.

  Simonet and his men turned to gape at the scar-faced, redhooded girl they had been searching for, as I aimed my repeating crossbow in their direction.

  2.

  Simonet’s eyes flared , while his companions gaped at my repeating crossbow, now pointed at them from the side of Touraine’s bar counter. “KILL HER!”

  I fired at the wolf standing by the window as he snarled and leaped at Touraine. The silver bolt lodged in his forehead and he fell limp onto the countertop.

  The man closest to me reacted fast, backhanding my face while I focused on his companion. I spun backward to the floor, my crossbow clattering out of reach. I rose quickly as Touraine ducked behind the counter and Simonet ran for cover behind the tables. The man looming over me grabbed my face, his massive fingers spreading to grip my scarred cheeks. His other hand locked around my wrist, to lift me off the ground. For an instant, I knew the feeling of hanging from the gallows as he gripped my jaws. Beyond him, the other two Lycanthru rushed to the window to receive the moonlight. Another few moments and they would transform into wolves, eager to devour me.

  The man yanked my wrist, pulling me closer. I flicked out the flat blade from the top pocket of my glove and drove it into his massive torso. His gloating smile faded as he felt the impact of the silver, the one element that kills the Lycanthru on contact. His eyes glassed over as he sank to his knees, releasing me to the ground. I slid my blade back into the glove’s sheath as he toppled over.

  Behind him, his two companions had started their transformation, but they gaped as their enormous partner fell to the floor dead. Now they saw the rumors were true: I knew how to kill them.

  They grit their teeth and snarled, shredding their clothes and preparing to strike. I scanned the room. My repeating crossbow lay beneath a table near the front doors. No way to reach it in time.

  I was dead.

  The wolves crouched to spring, their yellow eyes locked with mine. I leaped at the bar counter, turning sideways to spin over it. I landed in a heap, my hip banging against the rear wall. Touraine had retreated there as well, on his hands and knees.

  “Silver?” I asked him.

  He thought quickly, then reached for the hanging utensils close by and offered me a silver soup ladle.

  I soured at him as he realized his mistake, as one of the wolves came growling over the countertop. I flicked out one of my blades and shoved it at the monster’s head as it appeared, driving it straight up through the snout. I tore the silver blade out and retracted it into the glove, letting the beast’s head fall limp.

  I turned back to Touraine. “Anything else?”

  He glanced about, looking frantic.

  There was nothing.

  The black wolf landed right between us. It towered over us, like the wolf that killed my Grand’Mere when I was only seven. The wolf that scarred my face with three ugly cuts and gave me years of unending nightmares.

  But that was long ago.

  Its claw slashed at me as I kicked at the floor to push myself out of its reach. I tumbled away to the wall at the end of t
he counter, crashing into a wine barrel. I struggled to my feet as the wolf crouched again. I grabbed the barrel’s lid in both hands, grunting at its sudden weight as the wolf leaped at me. I shielded myself from its jaws, which sank into the wood.

  It bit through, splitting the lid in half.

  I held onto the pieces, feeling the ripple of strength in my upper arms. I slammed both halves into its cheeks, stunning it, then repeated the motion. It shook off the blow, snarling again as it rose to its hind legs. It backhanded the wooden pieces, slapping each of them aside in turn. I backed away, empty-handed, as it advanced on me, craning its neck, baring its fangs.

  I had suddenly become as defenseless as I was in childhood, alone against the bullies tormenting me. Until my hero, Francois, taught me how to fight. How to use my enemies’ strength against them.

  I shuddered with realization. This was no different. The Lycanthru were stronger, faster, more vicious than Jacque Denue and his warped friends who enjoyed beating on me. But the Lycanthru were still bullies. Nothing more.

  The wolf lunged. I spun away, letting it leap past me to collide into a table near Simonet, who instantly backed away. The wolf tumbled into chairs, landing on its side. It reared back and scrambled after me in a rage.

  I backed against the bar counter, waiting until the last second to leap aside. The wolf’s head smashed hard into the oak wall and crumpled to the floor, losing its footing. It shook off the pain and struggled to rise and find me. I stood near the entry doors, waiting.

  The black wolf growled and charged at me. I let it come, straight ahead, waiting for the right instant. Then I spun away, turning to smash my boot heel against its jaw as it passed. The wolf’s eyes gaped with surprise as the blow knocked it sideways. It skidded across the floorboards, sprawling onto its back and looking dazed. Simonet watched as his last companion struggled to his feet and lowered his head, snarling. It charged with a sudden burst of energy. I prepared to step aside again, but it moved aside, giving me a wide berth as it rushed past me.