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

by Alessandra Clarke

  "What? Ain't ya got a tongue girl?" He stepped forward, a leering grin on his face. "Open up. Let me see."

  Lodie appeared and slapped him upside the head. "Leave it, Grayson. She's not for you and you know it. I asked her to bring me the fool's horse. Got a rock in its foot and the man can't be bothered to tend it himself."

  Grayson blinked his eyes a few times as he swayed dangerously forward. "S'rry." He shook his head as he walked away mumbling about how only a fool would treat a horse so poorly. Or a woman for that matter.

  They returned to the fire where the blonde girl sat, a small bag in her lap, her shoulders tensed. She jumped at every little sound.

  As K'lrsa loaded the saddlebags, Lodie nodded towards the one guard who was still awake. "We need to take care of him."

  K'lrsa nodded. She'd never killed a man before, but they didn't have a choice. She finished saddling the horse and reached for her knife, but the blonde girl grabbed her wrist and shook her head.

  The girl riffled through Lodie's herbs until she found what she was looking for—a small packet of dried leaves. She measured out two pinches of herbs, looking to Lodie for confirmation.

  Lodie shrugged. "Should be enough to last until morning. A little more and he's dead."

  The girl shook her head as she placed the leaves in a cup and poured hot water over them. K'lrsa was surprised. If it were her, she'd have added that little bit more, no matter whether the man had harmed her or not. Every man who had stood aside and allowed this girl and the other one to be harmed, who had willingly brought slaves across the desert, who had watched them die when they were too weak to continue—they all deserved to die.

  The girl took the steaming cup of tea to the man's side and held it out to him. K'lrsa pretended not to watch as the man drank from the cup and then pulled the girl close.

  She turned away as the man started touching the girl, but she couldn't block out the sounds they made as he took more than the cup of tea from her.

  K'lrsa shook her head, admiring the girl while feeling horrified at the same time.

  The girl was like a river tree—bending and flowing with the changing water so that she never broke. K'lrsa was more like the giant world tree, so firmly rooted to the ground that nothing could move her aside and the current had to break and go around her if it wanted to pass.

  Before long, the girl returned. K'lrsa glanced back to the see the man lying on his side, his chest barely rising and falling.

  "So this is it."

  Lodie nodded.

  She gave Lodie a fierce hug. The woman could have betrayed her, but she hadn't. She could've kept quiet, let K'lrsa walk blindly into her future, but she'd shared her story instead even though it cost her to do so. "Sister of my blood. May you fly across the sands, may your aim be true, and may your heart be pure."

  Lodie snorted at that last, but she grasped K'lrsa's hands in hers, her fingers like twigs, so thin the bones of each one poked into K'lrsa's soft flesh. She pressed her lips firmly together as she studied K'lrsa. At last, she said, "I wish you luck in your quest. The path of revenge isn't easy, but some must walk it so others may thrive. Just…"

  Lodie shook her head. "Remember. It's never too late to turn back or change your mind."

  K'lrsa pulled away. She wouldn't change her mind.

  Lodie paused when she reached the horse, one hand on the saddle, staring away into the dark night. "Beware the one now named Herin. She's the one who sold me into slavery and she's no friend of yours or anyone else's." She shook herself before continuing, "But she may be the only one who can save you. If you must, use my name."

  She mounted the horse and turned to face K'lrsa. "Perhaps she thought this life she sentenced me to was more welcome than the death I'd chosen for myself. If so, she may yet help you. But whatever you do, do not tell her your purpose."

  She pulled the blonde girl up behind her and reined the horse around. K'lrsa watched them disappear into the inky blackness.

  Chapter 31

  That night she dreamt of the young man again. He was so beautiful, more beautiful than any man she'd ever seen. His eyes were a color of blue that couldn't be real. His skin so perfectly brown and smooth that she couldn't help running her hand along the flesh of his arm, a slight smile on her face.

  They were alone in the desert, a full moon shining down upon them.

  She wore the loose robes of the Moon Dance—strips of cloth that floated with each movement of her limbs.

  The Moon Dance was sacred. It was the dance a woman danced for the moon to show her love and appreciation.

  Or the dance she danced for her lover, alone, under the gentle light of the moon, before they came together as one.

  K'lrsa felt the music fill her, soft and slow and sensual. She moved to its rhythm, her feet floating across the soft sands. The young man joined her, his body in synch with hers. They flowed together as if they were one.

  So perfect…

  She awoke to G'van dragging her out of her tent by her braid, his face contorted in rage, spit flying from his lips, eyes so bloodshot they were almost completely red. "You deceitful whore."

  He threw her to the ground. "Horse thief." He spat. The liquid landed in a glistening gob directly before her eyes. "You should die. The penalty for theft is death."

  She laughed as she sat up. "In the tribes it is. But you're no more a member of the tribes than that goat I saw yesterday."

  He backhanded her, the blow so hard she felt the world go black for a moment. She held her cheek, shocked. How dare he.

  He raised his hand to strike her again and K'lrsa lashed out with her foot, striking his knee as hard as she could. The knee made a loud popping sound as it bent backwards on itself.

  G'van collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain.

  K'lrsa followed the kick with a strike to his face, breaking his nose. Blood streamed down his face as he called her every vile name he could think of.

  She stood and stomped down between his legs as hard as she could and smiled as he curled forward, no longer able to speak. "That," she said, "is for all the women who couldn't defend themselves from you."

  "What in Kilgore's blasted lands is going on here?" Harley shouted.

  K'lrsa froze at the rage in his voice. Only then did she realize that most of the men had gathered and were watching them.

  None looked too concerned about G'van as he struggled to his feet. He bent forward, barely able to put any weight on his right leg. He pointed an accusing finger at her. "My horse is gone. So are Lodie and the northern princess. Grayson said he saw this gadja whore with my horse last night. She did it. I demand compensation. I want her. She's mine."

  "No." Harley didn't even raise his voice.

  "She stole my horse." Spit flew from G'van's mouth.

  Harley shrugged. "You shouldn't have left it behind." He turned his back on G'van, missing the look of pure hatred G'van directed at him. "Barkley. Any chance of catching them?"

  Barkley stepped forward. He was the only one of the men that didn't look like he'd had a full night of debauchery. He was clean-cut as always, his clothes neat, his eyes clear and bright. "Not easily. Probably take a couple days and we'd have to use the golden horse to do it, which means that many more days until we can sell it off." He looked at the men, not stating the obvious—that most were in no condition for any sort of hard riding—before he continued.

  "Why bother? The girl was almost worthless, the old woman can easily be replaced. And the horse, well…" He smiled.

  G'van stumbled forward, demanding Harley's attention. "We have to go after them. They stole my horse."

  "We don't have to do anything, boy."

  "Yes, you do. If you ever want me to guide you across the sands again, you will get me my horse. Or you'll give me hers."

  Harley laughed. "No." He started to walk away.

  G'van grabbed his arm. "You owe me."

  Harley shook him off. "I owe you nothing." He raised his voice as he added, "Sho
w's over. Pack it up. Get the slaves ready."

  As Harley walked away, G'van shouted after him, "I can ruin you, you fool, and you know it. You aren't the only trader who wants to cross the Great Desert."

  Harley came back, standing so close to G'van that their noses almost touched. "You really think I need you, you vain little shit? I let you tag along because it's convenient, but I don't need you. Not anymore. So don't you threaten me."

  G'van licked his lips as he darted a look at the men who had turned back to watch the confrontation. "I know things, Harley. I know more than you think I do. Lodie? I know that…"

  He never had a chance to finish his sentence.

  Before anyone could react, Harley plunged a knife into his gut and up into his heart. G'van fell to the ground at Harley's feet, dead.

  The men cheered, nodding to one another in satisfaction.

  K'lrsa stumbled backward. She felt sick. She hadn't liked G'van, but to see him killed so coldly…

  "Show's over. Get back to work." Harley cleaned his knife on G'van's tunic before turning to K'lrsa.

  He didn't put the knife away. Instead he held it before her eyes, his own eyes so flat and black they were like a never-ending chasm that would consume her if she looked into them too long. "Don't ever cross me again, Princess."

  He put the blade away and leaned closer until she could smell the unwashed stench of him and feel the moisture of his breath on her cheek. "The only reason you aren't bleeding out on the ground next to G'van is because you're more valuable to me alive than dead. If you so much as think of running away, I'll hurt you so badly you'll beg me to kill you."

  He stepped back and K'lrsa let out the breath she hadn't even known she was holding. But he wasn't done. He grabbed her arm and twisted until she cried out in pain, holding the knife to the base of her thumb. "And if you do manage to escape? I will track you down and strip the skin from your flesh as you watch. I will cut your fingers and toes off one by one. And then I will leave you there, on the side of the road, for the animals to finish off. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes," she whispered, wishing more than anything that she'd fled with Lodie the night before.

  "Good. Pack up."

  She collapsed to the ground, shivering as she watched him walk away.

  The scariest thing about Harley's speech was the absolute calm in which he'd delivered it.

  If he'd screamed in her face like G'van, she could've believed it was just bluster. But listening to his words, looking into his dead black eyes, she'd believed every word.

  He spoke from experience. He'd done it before.

  Barkley dragged her to her feet, his hands surprisingly gentle as he pushed her towards her tent. "Harley said to get packed up. Best do what he says."

  She stumbled away, numb.

  Chapter 32

  K'lrsa tried to ignore the shouts of strangers as they rode through Crossroads on the way to the auction block at the far end of the town.

  "Harley, who's the girl on the horse? She up for sale today?" one man shouted as they rode by.

  "That's some fine flesh you have there, Harley. The girl, I mean. Not the horse." This from a man missing one eye and part of a hand who looked like he hadn't cleaned himself in years.

  His comment was followed by laughter from a group of rough men who made a few disgusting suggestions about what the man might like to do with a fine piece of horseflesh since he'd never get his hands on a willing woman.

  Barkley rode his horse in between her and the men. Fallion bared his teeth at Barkley's horse, but settled down at a slight nudge from K'lrsa's knee. "Don't worry," Barkley said. "Harley isn't going to sell you off here. He decided last night that he can get enough for you and the horse to justify traveling as far as Boradol."

  She stared straight ahead, trying not to notice all the men crowding around her. Any one of them would buy or sell her without a thought. And that only if they didn't decide to keep her for their own entertainment.

  She shuddered at the thought, missing the tribes where men and women were equal and a man would never look at her the way these men did, let alone say some of the things they were saying.

  "How close is Boradol to Toreem?" she asked.

  Barkley kicked at a man who came too close, the movement so casual it took K'lrsa a moment to realize he'd broken the man's nose with the kick. "Half a day's ride? But might as well be on the other side of the Daliphate as far as any of us are concerned."

  "Why do you say that?"

  Harley signaled for them to stop outside an ugly one-story building with a sagging roof, its wooden front aged and gray and rotting in places. It looked like it might collapse at any moment.

  Barkley urged K'lrsa to the side. "Stay mounted. This won't take long and I'd rather not have to fend off interested parties on the ground."

  Harley's men led the slaves into the building. They were all chained together now, some barely able to shuffle along at the pace of the others, others so skinny the manacles around their ankles almost slipped off with each step.

  "Barkley, what do you mean about Toreem? You said it might as well be on the other side of the world as far as we're concerned. Why?"

  Reginald lounged against the wall of the building, studying the crowd with an unpleasant sneer.

  Barkley turned his horse so he could keep a better eye on the crowd. "Toreem is the home of the Daliph."

  "Yes. You've told me that before. But what does that matter?"

  "Well, not just anyone is allowed in Toreem. It's a city, but it's also a fortress. The whole town is devoted to the Daliph and his interests. Most trade is done in Boradol and only a select few are allowed to travel on to Toreem."

  "So how do I get there?"

  He laughed. "You don't. You won't."

  "There has to be a way." Her stomach clenched.

  Barkley stared at her. "Do you still think you're on some great adventure? That you're just off to see exotic places and meet important people?" Barkley shook his head. "This doesn't end well for you, Princess. Even if Harley takes you all the way to Boradol."

  He glanced over to where Harley was just emerging, handing out small stacks of coins to each of his men, and said softly, "You should've run when you had the chance, Princess. I tried to help you. I sent all the men into town except the most lazy and irresponsible ones. But instead you helped an old woman and a dying girl escape and you stayed."

  He shook his head and raised his voice as he said, "Come on. Harley's ready."

  She trailed along behind Barkley, too surprised to speak. He'd wanted her to escape? He'd set it up for her? Why? And why hadn't he told her?

  By the time they left Crossroads, they were down to just Harley, Reginald, Barkley, two guards, and a handful of slaves that Harley had purchased.

  These slaves were completely different from the ones he'd sold. None were marked in any way. They were clean and proud, allowed to ride in one of the two wagons that Harley had kept and fed alongside Harley and his men.

  They camped on the side of the road that night in a large field that Harley paid a farmer to use. The farmer watched K'lrsa the entire time he was negotiating with Harley. At one point, he said something and nodded in her direction. Harley raised a hand to hit the man, but stopped himself just in time.

  When Harley came back to the camp, he looked K'lrsa up and down. "Figures he thought you were for rent what with the clothing you're wearing. Or not wearing, I should say."

  K'lrsa glanced at the two female slaves Harley had bought. Both wore simple loose dresses that covered them from neck to wrist to ankle. The only skin visible on their entire bodies were their faces and even those were surrounded by lengths of cloth.

  She realized that every woman she'd seen since they entered the Daliphate was dressed in a similar fashion. She hadn't thought about it since women in the tribes wore whatever suited the occasion. A long loose dress in camp or nothing at all if working clay or butchering meat.

  K'lrsa still wore the
hunting gear she'd been wearing on the day she was captured—the baru-hide pants tight against her skin, her hunting vest fitted to allow her arms the freedom to move. She'd scraped the worst of the blood from them, but she knew they needed more care. She just hadn't been willing to do so in front of the men of the caravan.

  "Barkley."

  "Yes, Harley."

  "She can't ride through the Daliphate looking like this. Find some spare clothes to cover her. We'll have Katie fix her up as a proper princess when we reach Lareen, but until then let's stop the rumors that she's for sale to anyone who has the coin."

  "Yes, Harley." He gestured for K'lrsa to follow him. "Come on."

  As K'lrsa followed Barkley over to the men's tents she wondered just exactly what a proper princess was supposed to look like. She hoped it was something more practical than the formless dresses the women she'd seen so far wore.

  Chapter 33

  K'lrsa tripped as she left her tent, trying to walk in a too-big pair of pants from Barkley. She wore a dreadful assortment of castoffs from the men. Two shirts—one had been too tight, but the other had been too loose, so they'd settled for layering the loose one over the tight one—a pair of pants held up with a rope tied twice around her waist, cloth strips wrapped around her usually bare feet, and another cloth wrapped around her head.

  The clothes itched terribly and the one wrapped around her head smelled so strongly of horse that she kept wrinkling her nose. Barkley had promised her she'd get used to it soon enough.

  Harley looked at her and nodded. "It'll do."

  She glared back at him, thinking that the men of the Daliphate were the biggest idiots she'd ever met if they couldn't see a woman's flesh without automatically thinking she was for sale or wanted to have sex with them.

  "Have something to say, Princess?" Harley asked, his black eyes sparking.

  She shook her head and turned away. She couldn't afford to anger him, but her own anger and frustration were building inside her like a covered pot kept too long over the fire.