Rider's Rescue (The Rider's Revenge Trilogy Book 2)

by Alessandra Clarke

  "D'lan. Where is she? Did you harm her? She's a sister of my blood." The moon stone at her neck flared red as she took a half-step forward.

  D'lan pulled his knife from its sheath, his hand trembling. "Stay where you are."

  "D'lan!" This was ridiculous. What had she done to warrant this type of distrust?

  Her mother strode up to the entrance, trailing what looked like half the tribe behind her. Gone were the soft robes she'd once worn. Now she was dressed in the leathers of a Rider, her arms lean and sinewy, baked by the sun. She looked like someone had boiled all the flesh from her bones and then strung skin across what was left.

  Her eyes were like charred bits of wood, sunken deep in her face. There were lines on her forehead and cheeks that hadn't been there before. She drew her dagger and thrust it towards K'lrsa. "How dare you come back here. Did you think we wouldn't know what you'd done?" she spat.

  "What are you talking about?" K'lrsa looked back and forth between the stony faces of her family and past them to the crowd. Not a single friendly face looked back at her.

  She stepped closer, keeping an eye on the blade in her mother's hand, Badru right behind her. "Mom. D'lan. What is wrong?"

  Her mother nodded to two Riders. "Seize her."

  K'lrsa backed up a step and bumped into Badru. "Seize me? For what?"

  Badru stepped around her and dropped into a fighting stance, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet. A Rider leveled an arrow at Badru's heart.

  "Badru. No." K'lrsa tried to push him aside, but he blocked her path, intent on staying between her and danger. "I can handle this. They're my family. Get out of my way."

  "No. Get on Fallion. I'll hold them off until you're free."

  The two Riders who'd been ordered to seize her approached, one from the left, one from the right, their hands raised, ready to attack. Two more joined them.

  K'lrsa finally managed to shove Badru aside. "You go. Take Herin and Garzel and get out of here. Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with you."

  "No. I won't leave you."

  K'lrsa walked straight up to the nearest Rider—a man who'd been best friends with her brother when they were young. "Here, V'kan. Take me. I won't fight."

  "K'lrsa, no." But Badru was too late.

  V'kan bound her wrists together, tying the bonds so tight they dug into her flesh. She tried to meet his eyes—she'd known him, known all these people—her whole life, but he wouldn't look at her.

  He dragged K'lrsa to her mother whose face was a mask of hatred, her gaze so intense it burned.

  As he shoved K'lrsa to her knees, she said, "Mother. Why are you doing this? What have I done?"

  "You killed your father." She spat. "Did you forget I had a moon stone, too?" She clutched the stone in her fist. "I felt it the moment he died. And I knew it was you. I could feel you on the other side of the knife that you plunged into his heart."

  K'lrsa opened her mouth to argue, to explain that he'd asked her to do it. He'd begged her for mercy.

  Her mother turned away, calling out, "Trial's tonight. We’ll stake her in the desert in the morning."

  "Mother. Wait!" K'lrsa tried to go after her, but V'kan held her down.

  The crowd followed her mother, a few glancing back as they dispersed. Not one looked at her with kindness or concern.

  Not one.

  K'lrsa knelt there weeping as Riders surrounded Herin, Badru, and Garzel and took them away.

  They didn't fight.

  What choice did they have? The sun had set. It was the Trickster's time. They couldn't leave and had no hope of winning against so many.

  K'lrsa felt ill. She had killed her father, but she hadn't murdered him. It wasn't the same thing. It wasn't her fault. He'd asked her to do it.

  But would that matter to her mother? A woman so consumed by grief that she'd burned down to her very core, no softness or warmth left in her?

  Chapter 13

  V'kan tossed her in an empty tent near the center of camp. Did they have so many prisoners now that they kept a tent ready for them?

  No one offered her food or water and she didn't dare ask even though she was starving and her throat so dry it felt like she'd swallowed the desert.

  She paced the confines of the tent, trying to figure out what she should do. She had to make her mother listen. Had to make her understand that she'd only done what her father wanted her to do.

  How could they believe otherwise? She'd loved her father. He was her sun, all the warmth and light in her life.

  She listened to the people going about their business, the conversations and laughter as families gathered for dinner, and was glad she was too parched to cry.

  Finally, it was time.

  She heard the expectant hush as everyone gathered in the center of camp and then V'kan came and dragged her through their midst. He threw her to the ground in a cleared space at the center of the crowd.

  She knelt there, before the six-member Council. A council she wasn't surprised to see now included both her mother and her brother.

  Not that anyone would know they were related to her from their cold expressions.

  It seemed everyone in the camp was there, ringing the small space where she knelt, their faces full of anger, disgust, and curiosity.

  No kindness. No doubt. No sympathy.

  "Bring the slave," K'lrsa's mother ordered.

  Two men dragged Lodie forward and held her off to the side.

  She was alive, but not well. She clearly hadn't been eating enough; the flesh hung from her bones, her cheeks sunken in wrinkles.

  K'lrsa struggled to her feet. "Lodie? Are you okay?"

  Lodie glanced at her and nodded once.

  "What did you do to her?" K'lrsa turned on her mother. "She's a sister of my blood. You were supposed to take care of her."

  "She's alive isn't she?" Her mother turned her attention to Lodie. "When you first arrived, you told us that you could make a sun stone or a moon stone show when someone was telling the truth."

  Lodie nodded.

  "I want you to do this now."

  K'lrsa licked her lips. She might have a chance. All she needed was enough time to tell her whole story.

  Lodie frowned. "Why do you care now? She can tell you my story is the truth. You don't need a spelled stone for that."

  "I don't care about your story. You came here with the moon stone of a murderer around your neck and though I was bound by the bonds of blood not to kill you, that doesn't mean I have to listen to you."

  "Mother!" K'lrsa lurched forward, but V'kan yanked her back.

  "Silence!" Her mother turned a look of such pure venom on K'lrsa that she froze. Where had all this hatred come from? They'd disagreed before—they were fundamentally different people, it was bound to happen—but never had her mother looked at her with hatred.

  Her mother turned back to Lodie. "So? Will you do it or not?"

  Lodie looked to K'lrsa who nodded even as her mother seethed in anger at their exchange.

  "Yes. Give me the stones."

  Each of the council members passed over their stone and one-by-one, Lodie took them and murmured words over them in a language both familiar and foreign. It had the rhythms of the tongue of the tribes, but the sounds were all shifted just enough to make it incomprehensible.

  While she waited, K'lrsa sent a silent plea to the Lady Moon and Father Sun that she be allowed tell her full story and have it believed.

  Lodie handed back the last stone and stepped to the side once more. She couldn't blend with the crowd, she was too tall for that, but she made it clear her part in the events was over.

  K'lrsa's mother stepped forward and the crowd went silent.

  "What is your name?" Her voice shook with emotion.

  K'lrsa raised her chin. She was not going to let this crowd cow her. "K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe. You are my mother."

  Her mother stared back at her with dead, black eyes as the moon stone in her hand glowed a ligh
t silver. The sun stones of the men behind her matched it with their yellow light.

  "Tell me a lie."

  "I didn't love my father with all my heart." The stones all flashed an angry red and her mother's face contorted with rage, making her almost unrecognizable in her pain.

  "Tell me a lie I'll believe."

  "I wanted to marry G'van. I thought he was wonderful and a perfect match for me."

  Once more the stones flashed red. Her mother's lips twitched with the barest of smiles. She stepped forward, so close her breath puffed a stray strand of hair against K'lrsa's cheek. With a deathly calm, she said, "I have only one question for you, K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe. Did you kill your father?"

  K'lrsa licked her lips. She couldn't just answer the one question. She had to explain what had happened.

  "I…"

  "Answer me! Did you take a knife and shove it into your father's chest?" Spittle flew from her mother's lips.

  "Mom, please…Let me explain." She grasped at her mother's arm, but her mother twisted away.

  "ANSWER." Her entire body trembled. "DID. YOU. DO. IT?"

  Tears ran down K'lrsa's cheeks. She glanced at the crowd, desperate to see even one friendly face, just one person who believed there was more to the story than a yes or no answer.

  She saw none.

  "ANSWER ME." Her mother loomed before her, practically crackling with rage.

  "Yes," she cried. "But it wasn't what you think."

  The stone at her mother's throat flared silver, illuminating her pained grin of triumph.

  She turned away as the crowd roared forward, shouting and screaming, hands reaching to tear at K'lrsa's hair and clothes.

  "It was an act of mercy," she shouted. "He asked me to."

  But no one was listening.

  Chapter 14

  Riders surrounded her, keeping the others at bay, but someone still managed to yank out a piece of her hair. As the crowd roared and screamed around them, the Riders escorted K'lrsa back to the same empty tent as before.

  They didn't do it out of kindness or some sense of camaraderie. They did it so she'd be alive in the morning when it was time to drag her into the desert and stake her under the midday sun on a fire ant hill, her belly sliced open and eyes gouged out.

  K'lrsa didn't care about that. Not now. It wasn't real to her and wouldn't be until she was actually dragged outside.

  What she cared about was that her mother actually believed she'd murdered her father. Not killed him as an act of mercy, but murdered him. Her brother believed it, too. Or else why would they have done this to her?

  She sat in the center of the tent, shoulders slumped, as the mutter of the angry crowd flowed around her. She flinched as something hit the side of the tent.

  How could they do this to her without asking what had happened?

  Didn't they know she'd worshiped her father? He was her everything. The one who'd encouraged her to become a Rider. The one who'd given her Fallion. The one who'd believed in her when no one else did.

  How could they think she would willingly kill him?

  They should know better.

  K'lrsa stared through the small slit at the top of the tent where the moon shone silver and wondered why the Lady hadn't intervened on her behalf.

  But she knew why.

  The gods weren't like that. They didn't just step in and fix a person's life. They might lend guidance on occasion if they were feeling particularly generous, but for the most part they sat back and let people find their own way.

  If she wanted out of this situation, she'd have to do it herself.

  She was so hungry she could barely think. She hadn't eaten since morning and the heat of the day had drained her dry. And she hurt. She wasn't used to riding anymore. Especially not a day-long frantic race across the plains.

  She needed to set aside the demands of her body and focus her mind on the problem.

  She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knees, palms up. Bit by bit she slowed her breathing, shutting out the sounds of the angry crowd, putting aside the hunger and fear that gnawed at her. She repeated the Pattern over and over again, seeking the path to the Core. Seeking that place outside of time where she could rest and refocus.

  At first, the sounds of the camp were too loud, pushing in on her, reminding her of what she'd lost and what she faced in the morning.

  All those people had once been her people. She'd shared meals with them, hunted with them, sang songs with them.

  True, she'd always been a bit of a loner—preferring to hunt alone with Fallion rather than spend time in camp—but she hadn't had enemies. At least she hadn't thought she did.

  Now all those people hated her. Believed her capable of the worst sort of murder.

  She shoved away the anger and sadness that threatened to overwhelm her and focused once more on the Pattern.

  But the image of her mother's face twisted in hate kept pushing its way into her awareness.

  And her brother, so stony and cold.

  She wanted to scream and wail and thrash her hands against the ground.

  But she didn't.

  Instead she repeated the Pattern, over and over and over, until her mind finally emptied of every thought and worry and sensation.

  At last, she succeeded.

  She floated inside the Core waiting for morning.

  Chapter 15

  Someone pinched K'lrsa's leg. Hard.

  "Ow. What'd you do that for?" she demanded, before she remembered where she was.

  She peered into the darkness of early morning. Whoever had pinched her smelled like dirt and sunshine. "M'lara." She grasped her sister's hand tight and leaned forward, desperate for a kind face.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could just make out the large, somber eyes and high cheek bones of her sister. At eight summers old she was already beautiful.

  "K'lrsa." Her slender arms wrapped around K'lrsa's neck as hot tears fell down her cheeks.

  K'lrsa rocked backward slightly at the force of the hug, laughing softly. Someone still loved her. Someone believed in her.

  She leaned her face against M'lara's; their tears mingled.

  "Oh it's so good to see you, little one."

  "Mom says you killed Dad," M'lara whispered. "How can she believe that? You didn't, did you, K'lrsa? You didn't kill him? Tell me you didn't."

  She grabbed M'lara by the shoulders and leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. "I did."

  M'lara tried to pull back, but K'lrsa wouldn't let her. "But." She shook M'lara slightly. "He asked me to. He was already dying. It was an act of mercy."

  M'lara stopped struggling, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Couldn't you save him? He wasn't that bad, was he?

  K'lrsa shook her head. "No. It was too late for that. He was…They'd…"

  She looked into the innocent face of her little sister and the words failed her. How could she tell M'lara what had been done to him? Wasn’t it better that M'lara keep her last happy memories of him?

  K'lrsa looked away. "I'm sorry. I did everything I could but it was too late."

  M'lara sniffled and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  "Do you believe me?" K'lrsa held her breath, waiting for the answer.

  M'lara thought about it for a long moment and then nodded. "Yes. But…They're going to kill you for it in the morning, K. You and that slave woman. The old one."

  "Lodie? Why are they going to kill her?"

  M'lara shrugged one shoulder. "Mom doesn't like her. Hasn't since she arrived. I'm not sure what exactly she said, but Mom didn’t want to hear it."

  "Then why keep her around? Why not just let her go."

  M'lara poked at the ground, drawing little patterns in the dirt. "She's kin. Blood sister to you. Can't kill her or else mom'd be a kinslayer. Can't send her away, who knows where she'd go."

  "So what's changed? Why keep her alive all this time only to kill her now."

  M'lara chewed o
n her lip until it seemed the whole thing had disappeared into her mouth.

  "M'lara?"

  "Mom's gonna shun you. Before they kill you."

  "What?" K'lrsa sat back, stunned.

  A person who was shunned was no longer part of the tribe. Even the desert turned against them.

  Once shunned, her only choice would be to go back to the Daliphana.

  "Why bother if they're going to kill me anyway."

  "So she can kill the old lady, too."

  "What is wrong with her?" K'lrsa slapped the ground.

  Her mother had always been aloof, but this, this was a disregard for basic human life.

  What had Lodie ever done to her?

  M'lara shrugged again. "She'd get rid of the one with the Amalanee horse, too, if she thought she could get away with it but the wise man won't let her."

  "Badru?"

  "No. The scarred one that came with the old lady."

  "Vedhe? She has really pale skin and hair?"

  M'lara nodded. "Yeah. Her."

  "She has an Amalanee horse? Since when?"

  "I don't know. His name's Kriger. He's gray and really nice. He lets me feed him dried apples. Mom doesn't like it, but she's too busy to know what I do most of the time anyway." M'lara hunched her shoulders and focused on the dirt she was still moving this way and that. "She hardly talks to me anymore, K. She's so angry all the time." Her voice broke and she hiccupped back a sob.

  "Oh, little one. Come here."

  M'lara climbed into her lap and K'lrsa slowly rocked her side-to-side humming an old song she used to sing M'lara when she was just a baby.

  Her heart clenched.

  In her desire for vengeance, she'd forgotten she was leaving M'lara behind, too. Her mother and F'lia she'd thought about.

  They were women, capable of handling their loss.

  But M'lara?

  M'lara was just a girl. A scared little girl whose father was dead and whose mother had changed beyond recognition.

  They sat there like that for a long time. Nearby a guard paced back and forth, his or her feet scuffing the dirt with each step. A wind blew between the tents, a nearby tent snapping back and forth in the breeze. It brought with it the smells of home. Dirt most of all.