Badru stood and paced the dais, his hands clasped behind his back.
He was too relaxed, too at ease. He'd already planned this out, all of it. He was just play-acting for the crowd.
A part of her was furious that he hadn't found a way to tell her beforehand, another part in awe that he could play everyone so well.
"We have a dilemma. The penalty for a dorana betraying her Daliph is death. And the penalty for providing false witness is death. Now, either K'lrsa has betrayed me or Balor is lying to me. One is innocent, one is guilty. But which?"
He turned to study them and then shrugged casually. "I guess I could just kill them both."
Balor stumbled backward.
Badru started pacing again. "No. That wouldn't be fair. And I can't pardon them both, because I'd pardon the guilty one if I did that…"
He paused once more, staring out across the room, but not making eye contact with anyone.
The silence in the room was like a heavy cloak, hot and smothering.
Badru pursed his lips and nodded to himself. He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing around the silent space. "That's it! Balor, you claim to have subdued this woman when you found her last night. You will do so again now. Or you will die."
Balor stared at him, confused. K'lrsa tried to hide the small seed of hope growing inside her.
"Most honored leader?"
"I propose a battle to the death."
The roar of the crowd grew and grew, whipping around the room until K'lrsa covered her ears against the cacophony of sound.
K'lrsa glanced at Herin. She was watching Badru, a slight smile on her lips. He nodded towards her before roaring for silence.
Nesbit cleared his throat and spoke into the quiet. "Most honored leader? How do you propose this be done?"
Badru barely spared him a glance, speaking to the crowd instead. "It is written in our laws that anyone accused of a crime that is punishable by death may, with the permission of the Daliph, defend himself in hand-to-hand combat. Is this correct, Nesbit?"
"Yes, most honored leader. But who would Balor fight?"
"K'lrsa, of course. She defends herself, he defends himself. The victor lives, the loser dies."
Nesbit shook his head. "The law specifically says he, not she."
Badru waved Nesbit's concern away. "A technicality. All of our laws say he, Nesbit." He raised his voice to address the crowd. "I declare that K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe shall fight Balor Lenivano to the death and whosoever survives shall be pardoned of all charges against them. So be it."
As everyone stared at him in silence, Badru shouted. "Clear a space. The fight begins now."
Balor lurched forward, crawling up the steps of the dais. A guard blocked him from reaching Badru. "Please, most honored leader, I need at least a candlemark to prepare."
"Did you have a candlemark to prepare last night, Balor? Did you sit outside listening to the animal sounds for a candlemark as you prepared yourself?"
More than one man in the crowd chuckled at the way Badru asked the question.
Balor trembled. "No."
"Then you don't need one now. The fight will start immediately."
Balor collapsed.
Chapter 80
Sayel and Morlen flanked K'lrsa as men shoved the four tables nearest the dais away to clear enough space for K'lrsa and Balor to fight. Even then it was only a space fifteen paces by fifteen paces wide, leaving barely enough room for her to use the hundred and five attacks.
Herin approached them, but Morlen stepped in her way.
"What's this?" She glared him down, arms crossed across her chest, but he held his ground.
Sayel answered, "You were going to testify against her." He swallowed heavily before adding, "You can't be trusted."
Herin laughed, the sound like a crypt door opening. She opened her mouth to say more but then turned her back on them instead and studied the crowd.
Men crowded forward like a swarm of locusts jostling for the best view, some even standing on tables. When they saw Herin, most turned aside, finding somewhere else to watch from so that K'lrsa stood in a clear space five paces wide.
She was glad—so many people in such a tight space made her palms sweat and heart race.
Once the space was ready, everyone settled into an expectant hum, waiting.
Nesbit stepped to the center of the cleared area. "Combatants, step forward."
K'lrsa moved to stand in front of him, Balor next to her. Sayel, Morlen, and Herin sat on the steps of the dais, the space they'd just vacated filling in with the grel-like observers—all avid interest, waiting for blood and death.
Nesbit cleared his throat and raised his hands toward the ceiling. "I call on the gods of land and sea to witness this combat. May they guide the hand of the man, or woman, who is innocent and give them victory this day."
He lowered his hands. "This is a battle to the death. May only he, or she, who is true of heart walk out of this circle alive. Shake hands."
K'lrsa didn't want to touch Balor, but he grabbed her hand before she could back away. He pulled her close, their clasped hands pressed between his ample belly and her slim frame.
His pupils were tiny dots, his skin sheened with sweat. As he whispered in her ear, she caught the scent of spoiled milk. "You lose either way."
K'lrsa pulled free, shaking. She didn't want to fight this man, she just wanted to leave. To go home and get away from all of this.
"Begin."
Balor rushed her, his arms held wide as he growled under his breath, his lips stretched tight in a pained smile.
K'lrsa scrambled away. She managed to avoid his initial charge, but he immediately came after her again, sucking air in and out of his lungs in loud, pained gasps. This time he managed to grab her and clutch her to his chest.
He squeezed, his massive, fat arms wrapping around her like one of those desert snakes that crush their prey before slowly consuming them.
K'lrsa struggled, frantic to escape as he pressed tighter and tighter. Breath fled her lungs as her bones ground together.
She frantically sought the warrior's version of the Core. And found it, barely.
She almost fell out of it again when she saw Balor through her spirit eye. Blackness laced his flesh, lending him strength as it slowly corrupted his body. Already the darkness wrapped around his heart, lungs, and brain.
Whatever it was, it was killing him, but until it did, he'd be as strong as ten men.
"Lady Moon and Father Sun, help me."
Dots danced in her vision, threatening to pull her back from the Core.
She fought back, knowing that if she lost her focus she was dead.
The blackness was everywhere, filling Balor's body. Not only did it strengthen him but it protected him from any pain as well.
It filled his entire body.
Except for one place—his toes. They still shone with the white of a normal spirit.
K'lrsa stomped her heel down hard on his right foot.
He shivered, but continued to tighten his grip. She stomped again. And again.
And again. Until he finally eased his grip and she was able to squirm away from him.
"What did you take?" she hissed, circling him.
His smile turned to a grimace as the poison started to burn like fire through his veins, turning from black to red in K'lrsa's vision.
"Herin." K'lrsa dodged to the side as Balor lunged for her. "He's taken something. Find the Core. See for yourself."
Balor came for her yet again, his steps now slowed by the poison burning its way through his body.
If she could just avoid him long enough, he'd die and she'd win.
"Attack him, you coward," someone shouted.
"Stop running."
"She can't. She knows she'll lose."
"She's scared."
"Balor told the truth."
The voices spiraled higher and higher—accusing and angry—buzzing around the room l
ike a swarm of angry wasps.
K'lrsa came too close to the edge of the crowd and someone shoved her from behind, propelling her into Balor's grasp. He grabbed her forearm; his hands crushed her bones like soft cheese.
She screamed.
This was it. The end. He'd kill her now.
But Balor swayed, unable to move as the poison raged through his body, an inferno to her spirit vision.
The crowd shouted, blaming her, hating her.
She could wait, watch as Balor collapsed at her feet.
But they'd never accept that. They'd never believe she'd won.
Balor was right. She lost either way.
If she fought him, he'd crush her.
If she waited for him to die, the crowd would turn against her and she'd still lose
Balor's grip slackened just enough for her to pull free as he struggled to keep from screaming, the poison burning inside his skull.
Before he could collapse, she stepped back and swung her left leg high, aiming at his head.
Her foot connected and the sound of shattered bone echoed through the room.
Balor fell dead at her feet as K'lrsa swallowed the scream of agony that threatened to claw its way out of her throat.
The shattering sound hadn't been from Balor—it was her foot, the bones bursting into little bits as she impacted with a skull as solid as a brick wall.
K'lrsa collapsed to the ground, curled upon herself in pain. The Core disappeared. The roar of the crowd crashed down upon her like an early spring storm—violent and dangerous—and pounded her into the floor.
Balor lay before her, dead.
She'd won.
Or had she?
Chapter 81
Garzel and Herin were by her side immediately. Garzel scooped her up and they headed for the door, Herin shoving everyone out of the way, not even waiting for them to see who she was and step aside.
"Wait. Where are you going?" Sayel followed, trying to stop them, but Herin and Garzel ignored him, continuing their relentless pace.
K'lrsa was in too much pain to care. She just wanted to be somewhere safe. And quiet. Away from all these men and their anger that threatened to turn on her at any moment.
She'd won, but their anger was like a living, breathing creature pacing the edges of the room with eyes like banked coals ready to burst into flame at the slightest provocation.
By some miracle, they reached the hallway without anyone stopping them. K'lrsa drew large gulps of air into her lungs and closed her eyes against the pain.
"This way." Herin led them to the left, away from K'lrsa's rooms.
"Where are you taking her?" Sayel demanded. He rushed ahead, blocking their path with his bulk.
"Somewhere safe." Herin spat the words, trying to go around Sayel.
"No. I won't let you. She's my dorana. Give her to me."
Sayel was right. She didn't know what Herin was capable of. The woman would've gladly watched her beheaded not a candlemark ago.
K'lrsa pushed against Garzel's chest with her good arm. "Let me down. Let me go with Sayel."
"We don't have time for this, you fools." Herin glanced back towards the audience chamber where men were starting to trickle out into the hallway. "Move. We'll talk as we go."
Sayel stepped aside and they started down the hallway once more, Herin and Garzel almost running as Sayel trailed along behind them.
"Where are you taking her?" he demanded.
"Somewhere private."
"Why?"
Herin whirled on him. "To heal her arm and foot before it's too late."
Sayel glanced at K'lrsa's injured arm, noting how the skin sagged downward where Balor had pulverized the bones. He glanced towards her foot.
And then he turned on Herin, shaking his head, unable to speak, the whites of his eyes bright against his dark skin. "No…How?…You're…"
"We don't have time for this, Sayel." Herin glanced down the hallway once more.
K'lrsa rested her head against Garzel's chest, in so much pain she could barely keep her eyes open. "What is it, Sayel? Just let her help me, please."
He stepped close, glancing around. "You don't understand, my dorana. Your wounds are beyond healing. If…" He licked his lips. "If Herin says she can heal you, it's because…because she's, they're…death walkers." He hissed the last two words.
K'lrsa's eyes flew open and she looked back and forth between Herin and Garzel. "Are you?"
Herin put her nose to K'lrsa's, her eyes vast pools of emptiness. "Listen to me, you foolish little girl. No one in that room realizes what just happened. They don't know that Balor took Lover's Bane before that match. They don't realize that you shattered your arm and your foot fighting him. Which means we can heal you before they do and you'll be whole once more.
"But if we stand out here in this hallway until enough witnesses see the truth, then you're struck with your injuries forever. Tell me, Rider, what good will you be with no arm and no foot?"
K'lrsa blinked for a moment, absorbing Herin's words. "None. I couldn't hunt, couldn't ride."
"Exactly. So can we go now, Princess?"
K'lrsa nodded.
"Wait." Sayel stepped forward, searching K'lrsa's face. "You can't let them do this to you, my dorana. You'll be tainted forever."
She smiled weakly, resting her head against Garzel's chest, as she struggled against the pain. "I already am, Sayel."
When he still wouldn't move, she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Don't you see? They already healed me once. Let them heal me again."
While Sayel was absorbing her words, Herin and Garzel took off, running down the hallways, no longer caring if anyone saw them.
Sayel followed, struggling to keep up.
Herin led them down a series of back staircases and dark hallways that seemed to never end, shoving silent slaves with fearful eyes out of the way.
At last, they emerged in a narrow hallway that led to the room where Barkley and Harley had died.
"Paren, get me the prisoner from yesterday," Herin demanded as they rushed into the room.
A large man with a dark goatee stood from the table where he'd been playing dice with two other guards. "Why? Gonna slice him up more?"
"What I do with him is no business of yours. Get him. Now."
The man spat to the side before lumbering down the dark hallway where the prisoners were kept. He returned a few moments later with a filthy man bound in chains at his wrists and ankles. "Need him back by mornin' so they can hang 'im."
"I know."
The prisoner tried to turn back, but Sayel grabbed him and pulled him along as Herin and Garzel led the way down another series of dark hallways and staircases.
At last, they reached a room carved from black rock, two guttering torches, one on each wall, the only source of light. It made K'lrsa long for sunshine and open spaces.
Two beds filled most of the room, one along each wall. Opposite the door sat a small table with two chairs—one with a broken leg that made it tilt at a dangerous angle. In the corner, a faded wooden cabinet stood, ready to collapse in on itself at any moment.
Garzel placed K'lrsa on the right-hand bed and gestured for Sayel to place the prisoner on the other. The prisoner curled in on himself, watching them all with angry brown eyes, but he didn't speak.
K'lrsa wondered if he was another who'd had his tongue removed.
He had two fresh white bandages on his dirty skin—one on his arm, one on his thigh.
Herin opened the cupboard and placed black candles and dark metal instruments on the table. They clanged together, the sound echoing off the ceiling. The tools were so old and dirty they seemed to absorb the light from the torches.
K'lrsa wanted to flee, but her wounds were too painful. And Herin was right. She needed her arm and her foot. No one survived in the tribes if they couldn't care for themselves.
And Badru…what would Badru want with her if she was maimed?
Sayel leaned against the closed
door. "You're death walkers…" He shook his head. "I would've never believed…"
Herin glanced at him. "Oh, please, Sayel. Quit acting like I just killed your favorite puppy."
He frowned at her, but didn't say anything more.
"What are you going to do, Herin? How does it work? Why do you need this man?" K'lrsa spoke to distract herself from the throbbing, aching pain of her wounds.
"Must you always question?"
K'lrsa held her gaze.
"Fine. Sayel is right, this is death walker magic. And death walker magic requires balance. You can't just heal someone. Or raise them from the dead. You have to transfer the injury. Or the death."
"So you're going to give that man my injuries?"
"Yes."
She glanced at the man's fresh bandages once more. "Like you did last night."
Herin nodded as she arranged the candles around a dark black bowl.
K'lrsa shook her head. "No. I won't let you do it."
She didn't know how she'd survive without her arm or her foot, but she wasn't going to inflict those injuries on someone else just so she could be whole and healthy.
"Pzah, girl. Not like he's going to worry about it where he's going. He's sentenced to death. He'll hang tomorrow. So we can heal you and you can live your life without a shattered arm and foot and he'll be in pain for less than a day. Or you can sit there all noble and perfect and never walk again and this man will still die tomorrow."
K'lrsa glanced at the prisoner and back at Herin.
Herin added, "He killed a young boy. For sport."
Did that change things? Did that mean he deserved this?
She shook her head again. He might be dying tomorrow. He might be a horrible person who deserved to be punished. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't let another pay for her choices.
Herin looked to Garzel. He shrugged.
Before K'lrsa could react, Garzel hit her on the head with the hilt of his knife.
Her world went black.
Chapter 82
K'lrsa awoke, expecting to have a headache, but she felt great. Famished, but otherwise fine.
Rider's Revenge (The Rider's Revenge Trilogy Book 1) Page 28
