Rider's Rescue (The Rider's Revenge Trilogy Book 2) Page 4

  "They're real, but they aren't all-powerful. And they've never done much for me. Or my sister. Or Garzel." She smirked at K'lrsa. "They didn't even save you, did they? Just sent you off to get yourself killed."

  K'lrsa touched the moon stone around her neck. Lodie's stone, not the one she'd grown up with. It felt like wearing an outfit that had belonged to someone else. It fit, but not comfortably. She'd made peace with the stone, but it was an uneasy peace and she longed to have her own stone back.

  "But I didn't die, did I? And I did kill the man who killed my father just like Father Sun promised."

  "Well, then. Seems you should worship them and do whatever they want, no matter the cost."

  "I didn't say that. But you'd be a fool to turn your back on them."

  "Would I?" Herin shook her head. "Ah, the simplicity of youth. May you never come to understand that you're nothing to your gods but a piece in a game of strategy so vast you can't even see the game board. An expendable piece, I might add."

  She turned away again and this time K'lrsa let her go.

  K'lrsa huddled in the midst of three tree trunks, hoping it would be enough to shelter her from any casual glances, as she waited for Badru to return. A bush to her right had a sharp peppery scent that tickled the back of her throat; she ignored it as best she could.

  Soon she'd be home. Back to the plants and animals she knew. Back where things made sense and with people she trusted.

  She smiled as she imagined what it would be like to see her little sister M'lara again. How much had she grown in the months since K'lrsa had been gone?

  And her best friend, F'lia. Sun-bright and full of happiness.

  Her smile faltered.

  Did F'lia know that L'ral was dead? That he'd died with her father?

  Did she know he was the one who'd betrayed her father to his death? Had she been part of it?

  And what about K’lrsa’s mother and brother?

  They had to know her father was dead. She'd left the markings for the next traveler to find. And her mother's moon stone had surely told her the moment he'd died.

  They'd be angry with her, for leaving like she had, she knew that.

  Her brother would lecture her on how irresponsible she was. Her mother would probably punish her with icy silence.

  But hopefully they'd also welcome her back. Be glad to see her whole and safe once more.

  Hopefully.

  She shivered as she stared into the gray of early morning, wondering where Badru was, craving the simple comfort of his presence.

  Chapter 8

  Badru returned just as the sun was rising, coloring the sky in oranges and yellows. He darted away from the closest camp, hunched low to the ground, looking far too much like an escaped slave. Fortunately, no one noticed and he made it to the shelter of the trees without incident.

  "What did you find out?" Herin demanded as K'lrsa extricated herself from her shelter.

  "We need to move." Badru grabbed Midnight's slim silver saddle and flung it over his back.

  He turned to where they still stood, watching him in surprise. "Now. Get your stuff so we can get out of here."

  "Badru, it's daylight. We can't ride during the day."

  "We have to. Most of those camps are soldiers. And they'll find us if we don't. I heard a few of the commanders talking about how they were going to prowl for new recruits in the neighboring hills today. We can't be caught up in that."

  Without another word, they packed up the rest of the camp—there wasn't much to pack—and were mounted on their horses and already over the next hill by the time the sun fully rose.

  K'lrsa urged Fallion next to Midnight. "Badru, how did they get here so fast?"

  "They're a well-trained, disciplined army." Badru's jaw was clenched as he stared ahead over Midnight's ears. "My army."

  She winced at his anger. "But it's only been a handful of days."

  "Which is why they aren't on the march yet. Couriers probably reached the border the day after I was attacked with orders to gather in Crossroads. It's the point that makes the most sense if you want to go after the tribes."

  "But how could the couriers get here so fast?"

  "They don't have to rest, K'lrsa. Change horses in every major city. Pass the message to a fresh courier if the old one gets tired. I could have an order to any place within the Toreem Daliphate within a day."

  "But how did all the soldiers gather so fast? Surely they can't travel as fast as a courier."

  He flicked a glance at her. "That's only three garrison's worth. There are ten along the border."

  She clutched Fallion's reins as she swayed in the saddle. "How many soldiers is that?"

  "One thousand." He scanned the horizon, his shoulders tensed for battle.

  K'lrsa couldn't breathe. She tried to picture a thousand armed, trained men attacking her people. Including all the men, women, and children, the tribes weren't much bigger than that. Her tribe had maybe two hundred and the other five tribes were about the same size.

  "That's almost a soldier for every single member of the tribes," she breathed.

  Badru nodded, his expression grim.

  K'lrsa slumped. "How can we defeat them?"

  "Pzah, child." Herin smacked her on the hip. "The weapons in the Hidden City are more powerful than a thousand soldiers. More powerful than ten thousand soldiers. Those weapons could destroy the world."

  K'lrsa shivered.

  She didn't want to destroy the world.

  She just wanted her family and friends to be safe.

  But if the only way to save them was to kill those soldiers?

  She chewed on her lip.

  She didn't want to hurt anyone.

  But to save the ones she loved, she'd do what she had to.

  Chapter 9

  They spent a restless day sheltered in a dry, dead space nestled between two small hills, waiting for the Daliph's soldiers to crest the rise. This close to the plains, the land was more flat than near Toreem. And more sparsely populated—with no conveniently empty barns or houses to hide them.

  As soon as the sun set, they flew back towards Crossroads. K'lrsa had to see for herself how many soldiers there were. Their ranks seemed to have doubled in one day.

  Badru pointed to signs that they were ready to leave—supply wagons heaped with grain and dried meat, the fact that all the soldiers were already asleep, only a handful of guards left to patrol.

  Herin muttered darkly as they turned the horses towards the tribes.

  K'lrsa ignored her until she finally had to give in to her curiosity. "What's wrong, Herin? Why are you so upset?"

  "I didn't want us to fly very far tonight, but now we're going to have to."

  "Why?" K'lrsa craned her head around to see Herin, but quickly turned back around when she felt herself slipping off of Fallion's back.

  "We shouldn't stop in the barren lands. I thought we'd be able to camp on the edge and fly over tomorrow night."

  "You mean that stretch of dead land between here and the tribes?"

  "Yes."

  K'lrsa shrugged. "I didn't like it, but we camped there on the way here and were fine. We have plenty of food. As long as we don't drink the water we should be safe."

  "It's not the food or water I'm worried about." Herin's tension was almost palpable.

  "Then what is it?"

  But Herin wouldn't say more. She just sat there, oozing distress, her fingers clutching painfully at K'lrsa's waist as they flew onward.

  It was true, the barren lands hadn't been pleasant the first time she'd crossed them with Harley and his caravan. He'd certainly been unhappy that they'd had to stay there for a night. And something definitely was off about the place. K'lrsa had had horrible nightmares the night they camped there. And she wasn't the only one.

  But it wasn't dangerous. Just unpleasant.

  Herin sitting behind her full of anxiety was far worse.

  As they reached the edge of the barren lands, K'lrsa cou
ld see that it stretched far to the left and right, like some giant knife had slashed through the earth from top to bottom.

  There was nothing living in the barren lands. No plants, no animals. And the few pools of water were so dark and stagnant she'd have never dared try them.

  They soon left the fertile green lands of the Toreem Daliphate behind until ahead and to each side all they could see was death.

  It was worse from the sky.

  When she'd ridden through before she'd imagined it was just a narrow strip of destruction they were passing through. That in the distance, just a little ways away, it was normal, dry ground.

  But from above she could see the truth of it.

  This was destruction on a scale she could barely fathom. What had once lived here? People? Baru?

  How many plants had once thrived on the now-dead ground?

  As they flew onward, catching the occasional whiff of charcoal—as if the ground below them still burned—K'lrsa felt the despair of the place sink into every pore, weighing her down, bringing out the worst thoughts and feelings, the ones she usually managed to keep at bay.

  Herin was right, they couldn't land in this place.

  They had to get past it before morning.

  She leaned over Fallion's neck. "Faster, micora," she urged.

  She knew he was already going as fast as he could, but she silently willed him forward, begging him to take them past this place of sorrow.

  The moon crept lower and lower in the sky.

  And still there was no sign of the other side.

  K'lrsa had a panicked moment when she wondered if maybe they'd turned the wrong way and would be forever trapped in this place.

  But, finally, she glimpsed the plains ahead, a faint lightening of the darkness. Dry and flat, they might be, but they were alive in a way the barren lands would never be again.

  "Ha! See! We're going to make it." K'lrsa laughed, full of joy.

  But even as she laughed, Fallion dove for the ground.

  "Fallion, don't. Keep going."

  But nothing would keep him from landing. Midnight was right there, trailing in his wake.

  As their hooves touched the blackened ground, the moon disappeared below the horizon and once more they were just two normal horses—beautiful, but nothing more than that.

  She glanced back at Herin. "We can keep going. The horses aren't tired."

  "No, we can't."

  "Why not?"

  "It's the Trickster's time." Herin slid from Fallion's back, stumbling as her feet touched the ground.

  "But you said the gods have no power here."

  Herin shook her head. "They had no power in the Daliphate. But we're not in the Daliphate anymore."

  "We're not in tribal lands either."

  "Yes. We are."

  "This? This isn't part of our lands." K'lrsa shook her head in denial.

  "Who do you think made this place? Your gods. They did it to protect the tribes from the Daliphana. Only in this one place is it narrow enough to cross."

  K'lrsa stared around. To her left was the withered stump of a tree and what looked like the bones of some small animal. She'd seen something like it once, when a fire had spread across the plains, burning everything in its wake.

  "When did they do this?"

  "Four hundred years ago. When the tribes agreed to protect the Hidden City."

  "And nothing's grown back since? That doesn't seem right." The burn area she'd seen was now one of the most fertile areas she knew of. This should've long ago returned to what it was before.

  "How can you be so ignorant of our history? Were you too interested in horses and arrows to pay any attention to your wise one? Just because you wanted to be a Rider is no excuse."

  K'lrsa crossed her arms across her chest and glared at Herin. "I learned everything our wise man could teach me. But it wasn't much. He knew nothing of this place. Or if he did, he didn't speak of it."

  "What kind of a wise one was he?"

  "All that was left after the Summer Spring Tribe disappeared. Aran didn't just kill your family, Herin, he killed all of the head wise men and women. They'd gathered for the decennial gathering with their chosen successors. After that, all we had left were a handful of second tier apprentices, none fully-trained, and maybe a few family members who knew some of the lore."

  "Why were they with the Summer Spring Tribe? They should've been at the gathering grounds."

  K'lrsa shrugged. "I don't know."

  Herin shook her head. "I should've known it was about more than punishing me."

  "What was?"

  "Aran's attack on my tribe. I thought he'd killed them to punish me. But he attacked because he saw a chance to eliminate the wise ones." She glanced at Garzel who'd been listening silently. "It's a good thing he never realized how much Lodie and I knew or he would've likely killed us, too."

  Garzel nodded.

  K'lrsa finally dismounted. She'd put it off for as long as she could, but she couldn't stay on Fallion's back until dawn. That wasn't fair to him. "What do you know that he'd want to kill you for?"

  "Until your moon dreams, did you think the Hidden City was real?"

  K'lrsa shrugged. "I guess. I knew it was our sacred trust to protect it, but no one I knew had ever been there or even knew where it was."

  "Did you or anyone know what it contains?"

  "No."

  "Or why it needed protecting?"

  "No."

  Herin nodded. "Exactly. And who would protect what they don't know needs protecting?" She snorted. "I underestimated him." She paced back and forth glaring out at the dark gray sky and cussing under her breath, her hands clenching and unclenching.

  "Herin? Are you okay?"

  Badru joined them, throwing Midnight's saddle to the ground, sending up a plume of thick black dust.

  Herin stopped dead. "Aran must be killed."

  "Now? We're on our way to warn the tribes. We can't go back." K'lrsa crossed her arms. The others could go back if they wanted, but she was staying right where she was until the sun rose and then she was continuing on to her tribe.

  Herin narrowed her eyes, glaring at the ground like it had personally harmed her. "No. You're right. We have to protect the tribes first so they can protect the city. But then Aran must die. You have to kill him."

  "Why do I have to do it? You can kill him just as easily as I can."

  Herin was silent for a long, long moment.

  "Herin?"

  "Hm? Oh, right. Of course I can." She turned away. "Get some rest. We ride again at first light."

  She joined Garzel and they spoke softly back and forth, only the frantic gestures they made showing how heated their conversation was.

  K'lrsa watched, wondering what it was they were keeping from her.

  Why did she have to be the one to kill Aran? Why couldn't it be Herin? Or even Badru?

  She turned away.

  It didn't matter.

  Not like they could force her to do it.

  She was a Rider. She made her own choices.

  Chapter 10

  K'lrsa lay down to sleep with Badru's arm thrown protectively around her waist, his body nestled against hers the only bit of warmth in that miserable wasteland. On another night she might've been more interested in the feel of his strong body pressed against hers, but the death in the soil seemed to leech through her skin right to her soul, weighing her down with undefined fears and sorrow.

  As soon as she closed her eyes, she found herself in the moon dream.

  But it wasn't like the last time.

  The Lady Moon was nowhere to be seen either in the desert or the sky. Neither was Father Sun. It was twilight, the in-between time, everything hazy and cold. The Trickster's time.

  She could see, but everything was gray, muted as if all life had been drained, leaving just a shell behind.

  She started to walk, needing to move to remind herself she was alive, but every grain of sand cut her bare feet, digging into
the crevices of her skin and burning like hot coals.

  A bitter wind whipped the sand into a fine dust that choked and blinded her, keening of loss and death.

  She curled in on herself, trying to hide from the relentless attack, but it was no use. She couldn't escape the wind and sand. So she pushed forward, hoping to find shelter against the side of a nearby sand dune, but with every step the dune seemed farther and farther away.

  She fought her way forward, screaming her defiance. The wind snatched her words away and flung them back into her face.

  And then, suddenly, it stopped.

  K'lrsa's ears echoed with the memory of the wind's howl. She slowly drew her arm away from her eyes and looked around.

  She stood at the top of a sand dune. Below her, in a hollow trough between dunes, lay row after row of bodies, staked to the ground, bellies sliced open, eyes gouged out.

  Just like her father, the day she'd found him.

  Except, instead of one body, it was hundreds. Hundreds tortured, mutilated, and left to die. The sounds of their moans reached her. A man on the end twitched, bright red blood flowing from his torn palm.

  She struggled not to be sick as she stared at the carnage below. Grel arrived in a squawking flock and descended towards the bodies, their beaks already glistening red with the blood of their prey, their heavy bodies lumbering through the air.

  She screamed for them to go away, but no sound came.

  She tried to run down the slope, but her feet wouldn't move.

  She watched in horror as they landed and began to feed.

  She collapsed to her knees, keening, her hands clutched tight before her, as she watched the macabre scene below.

  The grel walked among their bounty, feasting on the bodies, pulling at tender flesh, fighting one another over the most prized bits.

  As she watched, unable to look away or help, she realized something.

  She knew these people.

  There, in the first row center, was her mother—her long black hair spread above her head like a fan.

  And, there, in the second row on the left side, was her brother—his hawk nose the same as their father's.