The race ended in chaos when three riders drove into an oil slick and skidded off.

His riders lowered their lances and drove forward in a wedge.

The last two riders drove in and two more spears penetrated the exposed neck; one of these severed an artery.

He and two other riders, none of them sponsored, were driving to the next race.

Their eyes met, and then the horse was leaping towards him, foam flecking its muzzle as the rider drove home the long spiked spurs.

The four riders drove their horses as hard as they dared; the Arshaum, unburdened now by many allies, would be picking up the pace.

The masked rider drove Midnight straight at the deputy, his guns blazing.

Those sounds had grown more distant as Artorius's riders drove the Saxons back.

The rider twisted in Willam's grasp and drove a short sword through the crack where his breastplate and back armor met.

Colter and the other riders drove the pack horses across the meadow, off of the trails, and up the slope into the forest.