Rider's Revenge (The Rider's Revenge Trilogy Book 1)

by Alessandra Clarke

  Clutched in his hand was a small piece of fabric, striped the brilliant green and blue of the Daliphate.

  K'lrsa ran her fingers along the smooth strings of his bracelet as she tried not to stare at the destruction the grel had wrought on his body.

  She clutched her stomach, fighting the urge to heave up the small breakfast she'd eaten that morning.

  People died in the tribes all the time—it was a hard life—but not like this. Not murdered and left for scavengers.

  One of the grel sidled its way back towards L'ral, one eye on K'lrsa as it drew closer.

  "Go," she screamed, jumping to her feet. "Go. Go."

  She ran at all of the grel, waving her arms, screaming and crying out as they watched her with their baleful red eyes.

  They rose slowly, cawing their anger, as she forced them to abandon their feast.

  Two circled above her, swooping down lazily to declare their displeasure, but another one disappeared over the rise of the next sand dune.

  A moment later, it took flight again with a startled cry.

  Was someone still alive? The pendant at her throat pulsed brightly as K'lrsa raced up the side of the dune. The sand shifted underfoot until she was almost crawling, but she refused to stop.

  She had to see. She had to know.

  As she crested the top of the dune, she saw a body below her, spread-eagled, hands and feet staked to the ground, belly sliced open, eyes blackened sockets.

  She collapsed, all energy pouring from her like an unstoppered waterskin.

  No.

  It couldn't be.

  But it was.

  She recognized the hawk-like nose, the proud forehead. And the necklace around his throat. The one her mother had spent hours weaving charms of love and protection into.

  Not that it had done any good.

  Her father. Her father lay before her, dead.

  And they'd given him the worst death possible—tethered his spirit to the desert sands to prevent him from completing his journey to the Promised Plains, opened his belly so that the fire ants could tear apart his anima until nothing remained to complete the journey, taken his eyes so he wouldn't be able to see the path to the Lady Moon's side.

  She screamed, clutching at her chest, rocking back and forth as agony consumed her.

  A grel landed next to the body, cawing in pleasure as it side-stepped towards his face. Before K'lrsa could chase it away, her father's head twitched and the bird flew away.

  He was alive.

  Her father was still alive.

  K'lrsa ran down the hill to his side, slipping and stumbling on the loose sand.

  Chapter 11

  K'lrsa fell to the ground by his side. Tears poured down her face, tracing their way through the dust that clung to her sweat-soaked skin.

  She didn't know what to do.

  His skin was dark red, burned from hours of exposure. The blood around the wound in his belly was already black and crusted as were the pits where his eyes had once been.

  He turned towards her and she had to bite her fist to keep from sobbing as she stared at the ruin of his face.

  "Oh, Father. I'm so sorry." She wiped at the fire ants crawling on his skin, oblivious to the pain of their sting. There were too many. For each one she wiped away, five replaced it.

  His tongue was so swollen he could barely speak. "K'lrsa?" His brow creased and he struggled feebly against the stakes in his hands, crying out when his wounds tore open once more.

  "I'm here, Dad. I'm here." She fumbled for her waterskin, pouring the last of her water into his mouth.

  He turned his head away and the water splashed across his skin. "Too late. Don’t waste it…" he whispered.

  "No. No, we can save you. We can…"

  He turned back towards her and she felt the weight of his gaze even though he no longer had the eyes to look at her.

  She hung her head, fighting to stay positive, to tell him she could save him, but she couldn't deny the truth. He'd taught her to always see the reality of any situation.

  And the reality was, he was already dead. He might still be breathing, but nothing could return his eyes to him or close the gaping wound in his belly.

  "At least I can free your spirit." She reached for the metal stake in his right hand and pulled upward with all her strength, flinching as his flesh tore away with the stake and he gasped in agony.

  "I'm so sorry, Dad." Tears streamed down her face—a waste of water, and not fitting for a Rider—but she couldn't stop them. She moved around his body and pulled the other three stakes, wincing at the strangled sounds her father made with the removal of each one, and the blood that flowed freely from all four wounds.

  She tried not to smell the stench of his dying, but it filled her senses, dark and ugly and disturbingly familiar.

  He gripped her arm, his face clenched tight as he tried to raise his head to look at her. "Your mother?" he demanded.

  "She's fine." K'lrsa smoothed the hair back from his forehead as he lowered his head back onto the sands. "Everyone at camp is fine."

  She bit her lip before continuing, knowing he'd be mad at her. "I had to leave, Dad. I had to find you. I just knew something was wrong. What happened?"

  He tried to lick his chapped lips, but his mouth was too dry and tongue too swollen.

  He forced each word out, slowly, wincing as his lips cracked and bled. "Ambush. Betrayal. L'ral…"

  She jumped in, eager to share the small bit of news she could. "L'ral's dead. I found him on the other side of that dune. But I didn't see any of the others. Maybe they got away."

  He clutched at her arm, but the effort of even those few words had exhausted him. He seemed to sink into the sands as if they were slowly consuming his body.

  The night darkened further, the light of the sun almost completely gone.

  She felt a ball of pure hate coil inside her belly as she studied her father's ruined face.

  The tribes had been at peace for hundreds of years until the men of the Toreem Daliphate turned their attention their way, demanding trade, bringing change and corruption.

  They'd killed her father. They would destroy the tribes.

  Someone had to stop them.

  She stroked her father's arm. "The Daliph and his men can't get away with this. I'll kill him. I swear it."

  "No." The word was as much a moan as speech. He shook his head slowly side to side, as if in search of something he couldn't quite find.

  "Yes. The Daliph must pay for what was done to you. The only way to kill a snake is to cut off its head."

  "No," he said, the word stronger this time. "Promise me…not the Daliph…"

  K'lrsa stared at her father. Maybe the desert heat had boiled his mind.

  Or he didn't have faith in her.

  Still.

  "I can do this, Dad. I'm strong enough."

  He moved his head just the slightest bit from side to side, clearly exhausted. "No," he sighed. "Swear it."

  K'lrsa glared at him, arms crossed tight across her chest.

  He reached out, floundering to find her. "Swear it," he said, his voice stronger. "Swear it."

  He collapsed back into the sands, spent by even that small effort.

  K'lrsa bowed her head. He was dying. And she could help ease his passage. But the Daliph had to pay for what he'd done. He had to be stopped.

  She thought about it for a long moment as the sky darkened.

  At last, she sighed. She owed this to him.

  "Fine." She took his hand in hers and spoke the words she knew he needed to hear. "I, K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe do swear in the name of the Great Father, Bringer of Light, Bringer of Life, Scourge, and Destroyer, that I will not kill the Daliph of the Toreem Daliphate."

  The tension left her father's body and he sank further into the sands.

  Silently, K'lrsa completed the oath. "Today. I will not kill the Daliph today."

  Chapter 12

  K'lrsa leaned in to give her
father one last kiss on the forehead and he grabbed her arm. K'lrsa cried out in surprise, startled at his strength after all he'd been through.

  His fingers dug into her skin. "Kill me."

  "No." She shook her head and tried to pull away from him.

  How could she kill him? The man who'd loved her and supported her her entire life. The one who'd always believed in her and encouraged her to be whoever she wanted to be. He'd been the one who taught her how to ride, the one who brought her Fallion and encouraged her to be a Rider. He was everything to her.

  She couldn't kill him.

  "Already dead. Kill me." His fingernails cut little half-moons in her skin.

  He turned his face towards hers and she almost drowned in the dark depths where his eyes had once been. The sun was gone, the Trickster wandered the sands looking for victims.

  She couldn't leave him here, defenseless and vulnerable.

  But to kill her father, even as an act of mercy…

  She shook her head.

  It was too much to ask. She knew he was dying. But to be the one to actually deal the final blow?

  No. She couldn't do it.

  "Please." His voice cracked and his hand shook with the force of his emotions.

  That broke her. Her father never asked for help. He never begged. He was always so sure, so confident, so strong.

  She grasped the moon stone around her neck, desperate for guidance, and felt an answering pulse. Mercy.

  Her father deserved a quick warrior's death, not the prolonged suffering the Daliph's men had chosen for him.

  "Please," he sighed and fell back to the sands. His hand let go of her arm.

  She closed her eyes and sent a silent plea to the Lady Moon as she reached for her knife.

  The blade shone bright, reflecting the first rays of the newly-risen moon. K'lrsa swallowed.

  Her hand trembled as she moved the tattered remnants of his shirt away from his dry, cracked skin.

  She shuddered as her fingers brushed the hard edge of the wound in his belly.

  She positioned the tip of the blade just under his rib cage.

  She hesitated. She didn't want to do this.

  She silently wished he'd breathe his last breath and she could bury him without having to kill him, but his chest kept rising and falling. Her strong, powerful father was unable to surrender, even now.

  She bit her lip and, before she could change her mind, before she could think about what she was doing, thrust the blade upward.

  He arched and cried out as the blade plunged into his heart, and then fell back, dead.

  K'lrsa stumbled away from his body and collapsed to the sand, sobbing. She curled into a ball of agony and loss, rocking back and forth.

  Fallion nuzzled her shoulder and she buried her face in his mane, holding tight as she cried, grateful for his steady presence.

  Chapter 13

  K'lrsa wasn't sure how long she cried. Long enough for the Lady Moon to rise high into the sky.

  She shivered as she stepped back to her father's body and pulled the blade from his chest.

  She stared down at his face, now so calm and peaceful in the gentle silver light.

  Three grel watched from nearby, their eyes glowing red in the darkness.

  "Go." She ran at them and they slowly lumbered into the sky, cawing their displeasure at her.

  K'lrsa wiped the last of the tears from her face. The time for crying was past.

  She was a Rider and she had a mission to accomplish.

  She stood over her father's body, a chill breeze pebbling her skin, and sliced open her palm with the knife, mingling her blood with her father's. She let the blood drip onto his body and then onto the desert sands as she held her head high and shouted into the night, "I, K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe do swear in the name of the Great Father, Bringer of Light, Bringer of Life, Scourge, and Destroyer, and on my father's everlasting soul, that I will avenge him. I will kill the man responsible for his death and I will destroy the Toreem Daliphate."

  She took a deep breath. "This I swear, by my own blood. I forsake all other vows. I forsake all other ties."

  She was no longer a Rider. No longer a member of her tribe. Now she was just the woman who would avenge her father.

  As K'lrsa wiped the knife clean on her pants, the desert sands swallowed her father's body, leaving no sign he'd ever been there.

  The desert had heard her vow and accepted it.

  "Come, Fallion. Let's find shelter for the night."

  Chapter 14

  She followed the guidance of her moon stone to a small stone shelter, hidden amongst the desert sands. It wasn't much, just enough room for her and Fallion to shelter in the case of a storm, but she didn't need much more than that.

  She fell asleep immediately, curled on the hard-packed dirt floor of the shelter with her pack as a pillow.

  She dreamt she was once more in the middle of the desert, the Hidden City rising before her. The young man with blue eyes wasn't there, but the Lady Moon was.

  A flowing robe like the night sky wrapped her womanly curves and blew in a breeze all its own. K'lrsa could see her face this time. She had an ageless beauty, her visage seamlessly shifting from young mother to matron to crone and back again.

  They walked side-by-side for a long time, neither one speaking. The air was cool, but not cold. The smell of a storm hung in the air even though the sky was clear.

  "You don't have to walk this path," the Lady Moon finally said, her voice vast and deep but as intimate as an embrace.

  K'lrsa felt the peace of the night and the goddess's gentle presence coaxing her to put aside her hatred, to remember those that still lived and needed her.

  She clenched her hands.

  She didn't want to lose her anger. She didn't want to let go of her pain.

  If she did, she'd collapse.

  K'lrsa glared ahead. Her teeth ground together as she held all the fears and doubts inside. She focused her mind on her last memory of her father, his belly sliced open, his eyes vacant holes as he begged her to kill him.

  "Yes, I do."

  The Lady Moon sighed. "You don’t know what you're sacrificing, my child." She waved her hand and K'lrsa saw an image of herself with a little girl dancing at her feet as F'lia played the windpipes. K'lrsa was happy, content. She had a husband she loved and a child she cherished.

  She shook her head and looked away only to see another image of herself as an old woman, this time surrounded by her children and grandchildren. A little boy sat on her lap as she taught him to make a rabbit snare.

  That woman, that older version of herself, was loved, safe, a vital member of her tribe who guided and cared for the young ones.

  K'lrsa closed her eyes. "Stop it. I've made my choice."

  She clung to her anger, refusing to let it go. She nurtured it like a newborn child. Someday it would grow strong enough to destroy the entire Toreem Daliphate.

  That would be her legacy. Her future. Not these pretty, hollow moon dreams.

  "It's not too late to choose a different path, K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe."

  K'lrsa turned to the Lady Moon. "Yes. It is. And that life? That was never the life for me. Never the life I wanted. To sit around a campfire with babies and grandbabies at my feet?" She laughed, soft and low, refusing to cry once more, to acknowledge the subtle appeal of those promises of peace and love.

  She would never be the woman in those images, even if she did turn back now.

  And what would she go back to?

  Her father, the only one who had truly loved and believed in her, was gone. If she went back, her mother and brother would call her a fool and a child. They'd insist she marry and give up Fallion and her dreams of being a Rider.

  She couldn't do it.

  She couldn't watch the light go out of F'lia's eyes when she learned of L'ral's death. Or watch her mother walk through each day all stoic and proud, only allowing herself to cry in the privacy o
f her tent in the middle of the night.

  No. K'lrsa couldn't go back to that. She wouldn't.

  She shook her head, shoulders tight with anger. "I've chosen my path. I made a vow to your husband. I intend to keep it."

  The Lady Moon glided along the desert sands while K'lrsa's feet sank deeper with each step. "You would choose the path of revenge? Of hatred? You would swear to kill another you've never even met?"

  K'lrsa refused to meet the Lady Moon's fathomless eyes. "Yes. For my father. And for the tribes."

  The Lady Moon was silent for a long moment before she replied. "And what if you're wrong, K'lrsa dan V'na? What if the one you seek to kill isn't the one responsible?"

  K'lrsa did meet her eyes then. She felt so small, so alone against the vastness she saw there, but she shook the feeling away. "It doesn't matter. My father was right. The Daliphate is destroying us. We become weak, unable to fulfill our sacred duty. The Daliphate must be destroyed before it destroys us."

  The Lady Moon sighed, embodying in that moment every disappointed gaze K'lrsa's mother had ever given her. "Very well. It's your choice, child. Your path will be long and hard and not what you expect." She touched K'lrsa's cheek, her face once more that of a loving young mother. "Remember, it is never too late to turn aside. The desert will always be here waiting for you if you choose to return."

  She faded away, leaving K'lrsa alone, her only company the long-dead city.

  As K'lrsa walked forward, she wondered if there was any place in the real world where the sky was so full of stars and the air so still, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting.

  As she watched, the scene shifted to midday. The heat of the full summer sun beat upon her skin, its heat so intense she felt blisters forming.

  She tried to shield herself, but she still wore the flowing robes of the Moon Dance, slim strips of fabric that hardly covered anything.

  The Hidden City disappeared. Sand dunes stretched to the horizon in every direction. Waves of heat rose from the ground.

  "So, you want revenge." A man approached from behind her. His voice boomed like thunder.