ALSO BY ALEXANDRA CLARKE
The Rider’s Revenge Trilogy
Rider’s Revenge
Rider’s Rescue
Rider’s Resolve
Rider's Revenge
Alessandra Clarke
This book is dedicated to my mother. Without her support and encouragement the last few years, this book wouldn't have been possible.And to my father. He always wanted to be a writer but put being a loving husband and father first so never had the chance to achieve his dream.
A Note On Pronunciation
Members of the tribes have names that use an apostrophe after the initial consonant. For example, K'lrsa and G'van.
To pronounce these names, substitute an i or e for the apostrophe. For example, K'lrsa = Killrisa.
This is a full listing of the tribal names used in the book:
B'nin = Benin
D'lan = Dilan
F'lia = Filia
G'la = Gila
G'van = Givan
K'lrsa = Killrisa
K'var = Kivar
L'dia = Lidia
L'ral = Liral
M'lara = Milara
V'na = Vina
Chapter 1
K'lrsa wiped the sweat from her brow and pushed a strand of black hair away from her face. She tucked it into the long braid that ran down the center of her back as she rolled her shoulders, feeling the way the baru-hide vest clung to her skin, already stiff from a morning of riding across the arid plains.
The sun beat down upon her, merciless in his bright regard, as he baked her already tanned skin.
Fallion, her beautiful golden horse, shone like a jewel in the late day sun as he pranced sideways with impatience. He wasn't one for stillness. An Amalanee horse, he loved to run free and wild across the plains, the wind flowing through his thick mane as he raced across the barren landscape, his golden hooves barely touching the ground.
So did K'lrsa. There was nothing better than a day spent with Fallion, just the two of them, riding as far and as fast as they could.
Fallion shook his head and snorted.
"Shhh, micora." K'lrsa stroked his neck as she studied the herd of baru ahead of them.
About thirty of the fleet-footed creatures nibbled on an area of dry sage grass, seemingly at ease. Their slender forms blended into the desert in the distance—beige on beige—as they crowded together, looking in all directions for predators. The black and white stripes that ran from their delicate horns to the tips of their noses were the only parts of them visible in the late afternoon light. Their horns lay close to their skulls, sweeping backward a handspan past short tufted ears that twitched at the slightest sound.
She'd been tracking the herd off and on for days, rising each morning before the sun was up, sneaking out of camp before her mother could stop her, and only stumbling back home when the sun kissed the horizon goodnight.
She wished she could just stay with them, but her mother would never allow it.
The first night she didn't return to camp would be the last. Her mother would send her brother, D'lan, to drag her back like some child, shaming her in front of everyone.
She was a Rider now. Sixteen summers old. She could take care of herself. Too bad her mother and brother refused to acknowledge that.
Well, she'd show them.
And everyone else.
Show them that the faith her father had in her was valid—that she deserved their respect.
She wasn't a child anymore.
And today was the day they'd all see what a great hunter she was.
Maybe then her mother would finally quit talking about marriage and babies and realize that K'lrsa's true future was as a Rider—protector and hunter for the tribe—not as the wife of some arrogant fool like G'van. The man never listened; she'd refused him so many times she'd lost count.
Fallion pawed at the ground, bringing K'lrsa back to the moment. The baru were restless, the wind had shifted and now carried her scent towards them. Their black noses twitched and they tensed, no longer grazing as they scanned the plains for threat.
They were nervous beasts, quick to flight.
At the slightest hint of danger, the herd would flee to the desert sands where no predator dare follow. Nothing could match the speed of baru on desert sands. They seemed to glide across the surface while horses and desert cats sank into the soft surface, floundering in their wake.
It was now or never.
"Ready, micora?" she whispered in Fallion's ear. He nodded his head, body thrumming with anticipation.
"Now."
Fallion burst forward, his hooves kicking up a fine layer of dust as he raced towards the herd. K'lrsa's heart soared as she and Fallion moved as one, perfectly in sync like a beautiful deadly dance as they bore down on the herd.
The baru fled towards the desert sands, leaping across the dry, cracked ground.
K'lrsa leaned over Fallion's side, one hand tangled in his mane as she chose her target—a young male on the edge of the herd that leaped ahead of them, all grace and light. He tried to flee back into the center of the herd, but she maneuvered Fallion to cut him away from the others.
The swift air of their passage cooled the sweat on K'lrsa's brow even as the sharp scents of crushed sage grass and dust filled her nose. "Steady now, micora," she whispered as much to herself as Fallion as she released her hold on his mane to draw her bow and nock an arrow to it. Her gaze never left her target.
It was risky to let go of his mane, and she'd never try it with any other horse, but she knew Fallion, knew she was in no danger of falling with him beneath her.
K'lrsa took a deep breath and found the hunter's version of the Core—that heightened state of awareness where everything slowed down and came into focus. Time seemed to stop as she pulled the arrow taut, the bow string vibrating under her fingers, begging for release.
She held there, pausing, savoring the moment as she aimed for the soft spot on the baru's back.
Finally, she released and heard the twang of the bow string as the arrow sped towards its target, wobbling left before straightening out again.
The arrow spun through the air, each rotation visible to her mind's eye, each breath taking an eternity as they thundered forward, the herd racing ahead of them, her target glancing back at her in wide-eyed fear.
K'lrsa felt a thrill of triumph as the arrow raced towards the baru.
She was going to do it.
After months of being told it wasn't possible, and days of trying and failing, she was going to be the first Rider to kill a baru from horseback.
Her. K'lrsa. A "mere girl."
She was going to do it.
The baru leapt to the side at the last moment; the arrow buried itself in the dry ground by a large cactus.
K'lrsa cursed and felt Fallion slow beneath her as he responded to her unspoken command.
No.
No. She was not going to quit this time. She was not going to fail again.
She had to succeed before her father returned to camp.
She had to.
She was hot and tired and sore, her clothes sticking to her body and chafing her skin, but this was her last chance and she refused to quit. Not when she was so close. Fallion wasn't even winded, even after a day of hard riding.
She urged him forward until it felt like they really were flying like the Amalanee horses of legend. The wind of their passage whipped strands of hair and dust into her eyes, but she ignored them.
She would not fail.
Not again.
She leaned forward, her gaze focused on her escaping prey. She no longer saw the swee
ping plains around her, no longer felt the hot sun beating down upon her back. She didn't even smell the approach of the desert as they came alongside the stumbling baru.
K'lrsa steadied herself to take another shot.
Fallion stumbled and only then did K'lrsa realize how close the desert was. A hundred more steps and the baru would reach safety.
"Steady, micora." She nocked another arrow and urged Fallion to a final burst of speed until they were practically on top of the young baru, his horns easily within reach.
K'lrsa leaned to the side, almost slipping from her saddle as she focused on the one spot on the baru's back where an arrow might strike and kill.
She took a steadying breath.
She could do this.
She could.
No matter what anyone else said.
She loosed the arrow, sending a prayer to the Great Father Sun and the Lady Moon to guide its path.
Time slowed as the arrow spun through the air.
Closer.
Closer.
There!
It struck true, burrowing into the soft flesh of the baru's back. The gentle beast stumbled; it tripped and collapsed forward as the rest of the herd raced onward to the safety of the desert.
Fallion narrowly missed colliding with the baru as it fell; he leapt over its bulk at the last possible moment and carried forward a few steps. His hooves sank into the soft sand of the true desert and he lurched to a stop.
K'lrsa jumped to the ground and ended the baru's suffering with one quick stroke of her knife, sending a prayer of thanks as she did so.
She knelt there, breathing heavily, as the sounds and sensations of the world rushed back to her awareness.
The sun burned her skin, its bright light harsh as it flashed into her eyes. The musty scent of the baru and the iron tang of its blood filled the air. That and the stench of her own sweat were almost enough to make her gag.
She shook, barely able to keep a grip on her knife.
She'd done it. She'd finally done it!
No.
They'd done it.
She and Fallion.
She scratched Fallion's ears as he nuzzled at her. She didn't know what she'd do without him. He was the best gift her father could've given her. A real, live Amalanee horse, so rare she'd never seen another one.
Fallion chuffed her hair and K'lrsa buried her face against his sweet-smelling neck. "We did it, micora. We did it."
She marveled how Fallion's golden coat was still flawlessly clean after a full day's hunting.
If only she could say the same for herself. She was dirty and sweaty and soon to be covered in blood.
Her mother would be horrified, but K'lrsa didn't care. Not in the slightest. She was a Rider.
She kissed the small white teardrop-shaped mark in the middle of Fallion's forehead.
Fallion nickered softly and K'lrsa glanced towards the distant horizon. The sun was low, coloring the clouds over the distant mountains a brilliant red and orange like the entire sky was on fire.
She'd be hard-pressed to field dress the baru and make it home before the sun set.
"It's okay, micora. We're not in the true desert. The Trickster can't hurt us here. But you're right. We should hurry."
If she didn't make it back before dark, today's triumph would mean nothing. All her mother would see was her reckless, irresponsible daughter who refused to grow up and put aside her childish obsession with being a Rider.
K'lrsa quickly gutted the baru. She ignored the grel that lowered their heavy bodies to the ground, drawn by the scent of blood and death. Their beady red eyes watched her every movement.
She hated the things. They stunk like a rotted corpse, their grey feathers coated with the blood of the animals they consumed. They'd eat anything, preferably dead, but alive worked, too. She'd seen them devour a wounded desert cat once—the sight and sounds of that day were something she'd never forget.
The grel waddled towards her, hissing and cawing at each other as they crowded ever closer, each one vying for position.
"Back." She waved her arms at them, but they didn't retreat, just slowed their approach.
If it were up to her, she'd drive them far away and give them nothing. But her father said it was always better to give death its due rather than wait for it to collect what you didn't want to give, so she flung the entrails at them.
The grel pounced on the bloody feast, tearing and ripping at the glistening mass as they fought amongst themselves for the choicest bits.
K'lrsa used their distraction to load the rest of the meat on Fallion's back. She swallowed heavily at the stench as they crept closer, demanding more.
She ignored them and mounted Fallion. "Let's go."
Fallion didn't need any more encouragement than that. He stormed through the mass of scavenger birds. They scattered to the side, cawing their displeasure.
When the grel were finally far behind her and it was just K'lrsa and Fallion riding alone across the darkening plain, K'lrsa allowed herself to smile.
She'd done it. She'd really done it. Normally it would take four hunters to bring down a baru—two to drive the herd and two to lie in wait hoping for a lucky shot as they thundered past. But she'd killed one all by herself.
Her. K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe. She'd done what no one else ever had.
She threw her arms wide and her head back and shouted in joy.
This was the best day of her life.
Chapter 2
By the time K'lrsa reached camp, the sun had fully disappeared behind the mountains and the air carried the chill of an early fall night. Soon they'd have to move closer to the desert, chasing its heat as the nights grew colder.
The sweat on K'lrsa's skin had long since dried, leaving only salt and dirt behind. The rush of the hunt had faded, too. She now found herself shivering as she longed for a thickly-woven horse hair blanket around her shoulders and a fire to warm her hands.
Torches formed a perimeter around camp, casting as much shadow as light on the gathering of over a hundred tents clustered together in smaller family units. Families sat around cook fires, eating their evening meal and talking softly, their voices and the delicious scent of their meals carrying into the darkness where K'lrsa sat.
Most would be eating hare or the small desert birds that were so common in this area, if they had any meat at all. None would have baru meat; it had been too long since the Riders had mounted a hunt. They were too busy looking for raiders and worrying about attacks that would likely never come.
The tribes had been at peace for hundreds of years. Life in the desert was too difficult for the tribes to war with one another and the outside world didn't care enough to pay them any attention.
But the rumors of night attacks on the other tribes couldn't be ignored. Not when men, women, and children had gone missing. So now the Riders mounted patrols and looked for danger in every direction, turning away from their primary role as hunters.
K'lrsa was a Rider, but she wasn't allowed to patrol with the rest. She should be. She'd spent a week alone in the desert and killed a baru during a hunt just like the rest had.
It wasn't enough, though. It never was. Her father said she was too young. That if there really were raiders prowling somewhere in the night they might harm her.
All she wanted was for someone to acknowledge that she was just as strong and capable as anyone else. She wasn't a child anymore. She was a Rider.
Well, now they'd all see. Because, thanks to her, tomorrow the tribe would have baru meat once more.
They'd hear her story of her hunt and finally understand that she was a grown woman and as capable as any Rider. She couldn't wait to see their eyes when she told everyone how she and Fallion had accomplished the impossible.
That was tomorrow, though.
First she had to face her mother.
Her family tents were on the other end of camp, and normally K'lrsa would ride along the perimeter to sneak home as q
uietly as possible.
But not tonight. Tonight she wanted everyone to see her and know what she'd accomplished.
She and Fallion had barely emerged from the smoke of the torches when her older brother, D'lan, stepped forward to grab Fallion's harness. "Where have you been? What were you doing out after dark?" he demanded.
Fallion bared his teeth and D'lan jumped back as if burned. He still blocked their path, his arms crossed tight against his chest, a frown creasing his brow.
Nothing new there. D'lan was always unhappy. K'lrsa was just glad he'd finally married and moved away to his own set of tents so she didn't have to see his frown at every single meal.
She forced a smile onto her face. "I was hunting. See?" She gestured at the baru slung behind her.
D'lan barely glanced at the dead animal. "I see." His voice was flat, his eyes black and angry in the shifting light of the torches.
"D'lan, I killed a baru. By myself." She leaned forward, looking for the slightest hint he was impressed.
He shrugged. "And what good would that do if the Trickster took you? Or raiders?"
K'lrsa rolled her eyes. There was no winning with him. Never had been. "Well, I wasn't, was I? I'm right here. With a baru. That I killed myself. Aren't you going to at least acknowledge that?"
This wasn't going at all how she'd thought it would. Of course, she should've known this was exactly how things would go. Her father was the only one who took pride in her.
D'lan glared at her. "Congratulations on being impulsive and irresponsible, K'lrsa. Way to risk your life and the life of your horse. Now give me the baru. Mom has a guest and she won't appreciate you showing up with a carcass slung over your shoulder."
K'lrsa thought about refusing, but she really couldn't. While her father was gone, D'lan was leader of the Riders and had the right to order her to do anything. She was just lucky it had never occurred to him to specifically order her to stay in camp.
"Fine."
As she untied the baru and let it slide to the ground, she muttered. "You know I did have my moon stone, D'lan. I would've been safe even if I had been caught in the desert at night."
Rider's Revenge (The Rider's Revenge Trilogy Book 1) Page 1
