The Red Rider Read online

  "It's a tall task, one young girl against an entire race."

  She sighed. "I'll do as much as I can."

  The next day started out much the same, the group trudging up a dusty path towards the reddish-brown mountains that loomed in the distance. Red hoped it would get better when they reached the town just within the valley, but knowing it was a mining town made that hope faint at best. As they walked, however, she became lost in conversation with the men and forgot the bleakness of the surroundings. Though they spoke of mundane things, extended talk even about the mundane had become unfamiliar to her and she now found herself engaged. She sparred with Harry when they made camp, impressed him and seemed to put a respect into him she hoped would carry over to other women. When he asked Benson to join in, he declined citing his old age. Harry tried to get Trent to test her skills next.

  "My big sword against her little knives? That would hardly be a fair fight," he replied, but she figured he wanted to be chivalrous.

  "I've thought about it," she said to him later that night, "and I think maybe I could try settling down." When he blinked in surprise, she clarified, "I mean, not with you—you're probably too old for me, even if I think you're a fine man. But maybe I could stay in that mining town or some other town after finding this one last wolf, and see if I can meet somebody who'll take me for the odd looking creature I am? Like you say, it's not good for anyone to grow old alone."

  "I'm sure you'd find someone. The bravery you have, I bet a lot of cowardly men would love in a wife they want to protect them."

  They laughed over that. She wondered what it would be like to adjust to "normal" life, and if she even could. Though she wasn't far into her twenties, she'd been doing this nonstop for nearly ten years. She would at least need to hold a job if she settled down, unless she had a child. That seemed like a full-time job enough.

  The next evening, feeling especially tired since she had spent most of the previous night up thinking, she decided to retire early. "Good night, little badger," Harry said as she ambled heavily to her tent.

  "Goodnight, Harry," she returned, and curled the bedroll around her. Despite how weary she felt, she couldn't sleep at first, and began to dread the prospect of getting up the next day. The men's continued chatter didn't help, but she wouldn't impose on them for her sake. She heard them go silent, and though wanting to feel relief, the suddenness of it unnerved her. Then she heard a high-pitched scream, far higher than any of her companions would make in anything but abject terror.

  She ran outside to see a bipedal wolf on top of Harry, tearing out his throat. Two others hounded Trent, growling and snapping at him while he tried to ward them off with wide sword swings. Where was Benson? There, moving backwards towards the edge of camp, shooting arrows into a wolf that merely ignored them as it advanced on him. As his back approached a clump of brush, a fifth werewolf leaped out of it onto his back, bearing him down. His screams of terror joined Harry's gurgles, a ghastly chorus in the night.

  Red sprang into action. Knowing Harry couldn't be saved, she saved herself the danger of leaving one more opponent at her back by plunging a knife into his killer's spine as she passed. She spun to build momentum and hurled a dagger across the clearing through the face of the wolf that had pounced on Benson, saving him for the time being. Leaving him to fend for himself and hopefully hold off the single wolf left near him, she turned to help Trent.

  "Damn you're good!" he breathed. Emboldened by her success, he took a step forward and hacked a great gash into one lycanthrope's chest.

  "Don't praise me yet! Save that for when we come out of this alive!" The other werewolf turned to her and lunged. She jumped aside and sliced its arm, felt the vein pounding in her neck. Her body always reacted that way to wolves, even when her rational mind judged the situation to be not too stacked against her. It howled and spun to face her again with slashing claws. Red hissed as they laid open her raised forearm. She slit one of its wrists in a blistering exchange of swipes, darted forward when it grabbed its wound to press a knife into its throat. She stepped and ripped sideways, loosing a spray of blood that darkened the earth. It continued to flail wildly with its paws, so she kicked it to the ground to die there rather than risk a final attack in its death throes. Turning, she saw Trent slash his wolf again. It staggered back. She lunged, burying a blade in its temple. As she pulled it out and the monster slumped down, she met Trent's eyes and let herself return his smile.

  A wolf bit him from behind, tearing his neck to turn his shirt red. Benson's wolf. She saw the older man lying dead where she'd left him, the bow he had drawn to defend himself after losing his spear broken. She shrieked in hopeless rage and hooked her fingers into the werewolf's nostrils. Yanking up, she forced its jaws open. She pulled it off Trent and stabbed up through the roof of its mouth; then, though it was already dead, laid open its throat with a cry of sorrow and hate.

  She turned back to Trent. He lay on his back still alive, clutching his neck. But she knew it was over. She'd come to think of the men as friends, when she didn't have friends, and fantasies of a future where they remained so flashed through her head. She could almost see them a few years older, living still in the mining town, celebrating together along with her husband whose face she could not yet picture. But Trent's comrades were already dead, and the blood continued to spurt between his fingers. Red knelt and held his hand until his eyes fixed, then closed them.

  "Sorry," she said with a sniff. "My fault, perhaps."

  She stood, sparing a look for Benson to make sure he was dead. His whole face had been torn off. So much for friends. Maybe it was her destiny to always walk alone. She felt bad, but knew she'd get over it quicker than she even wanted. She'd learned long ago not to get too attached to anyone who tread close to the same roads as her, and doubted she would be too scared even facing her own death. She'd steeled herself enough times to be permanently steeled.

  Red dug graves for the unfortunate sellswords and buried them, thinking all the while. The werewolves had reverted, becoming three men and two women, but she didn't bother with them. Had these wolves come upon them at random, or did someone or something intentionally set them on her? If the latter, that bespoke a more intelligent sire than she'd encountered before. No matter. She would kill it, for she was the Red Rider, and her path red with the blood of werewolves—and sometimes, though it didn't please her, men.

  #

  She continued on through a mountain pass—a neat rectangular gap barely wide enough to fit a wagon between two sheer rock faces—and arrived at the town. The dust was even heavier than outside the valley, flying up around her feet with each footstep, and though she knew drought made it worse, she wouldn't have fancied living here even in better times. Everything seemed so gray. People milled about in the street looking tired as hell, but she wondered that they didn't get sick. Then again, maybe some or more than some of them were.

  Men and women stared at her while she walked deeper into town, likely as not due to her deep red cloak. Bold colors didn't appear to be in fashion here, whether because residents couldn't afford it or the dust would make it irrelevant anyway. She noticed a commotion in front of one of the square wooden houses, sturdy if drab and unpainted. A thin middle-aged couple argued with a paired of armored men, whose surcoats bore the likeness of a great sea beast she took to be the symbol of their employer.

  "What do you want?" the woman was saying as the soldiers rooted about in her bag with filthy hands. "We have no jewels! You accuse us of stealing, but our innocence is plain. Leave us be!"

  The round-faced shorter one of their harassers pulled out a handful of coins and held it up with a grin. "But who's to say you didn't sell the jewels for these? We'll take them for the boss—and keep some for our reward."

  Red noticed nobody came to the couple's defense, and those within sight purposely avoided moving closer and averted their gaze. It figured they wouldn't want to chance offending the ruler. She though had no such qualms. She strolled up
calmly before the men. "What are you doing? Do you have evidence these people stole, or are you crafting a story?"

  The soldier she hadn't heard speak turned to her. A tall, bearded man with a stern face, he looked more honest than he apparently was. "And who are you supposed to be?"

  "Doesn't matter. You ought to give that money back before I make you."

  The men's hands shifted closer to their hilts. Sensing the tension rise, the husband said, "I-it's all right, you needn't get involved. We'll consider it an early tax payment."

  She frowned. "And when it comes time for your actual tax payment, they'll count this towards it? You can't let those in authority bully you even when they go against their own law. People have to stand up for themselves or the cruel will rule."

  "Law?" the round-faced soldier said. "What law? There's no king. The only law now is what we make."

  She hadn't exactly wanted to get involved in the politics of these parts, but couldn't leave suffering people to, well, suffer if she could do something about it. "Does your master approve of this? I might have to have a talk with him if so. But first, hand back those coins."

  He snickered. "Ha, fat chance of that. What, you're going to 'make' me? You're a little slip of a thing, even if you look like a freak. Why, we could easily beat-"

  Red punched him in the throat. He gagged, grabbed his neck with one hand while desperately clinging to his coins with the other. She jerked his fist towards the wife and twisted his wrist, making him open his fingers. "Here's your money," she said as precious metal sprinkled into the woman's outstretched hands and onto the ground. The husband looked worried, and his wife began to as well. Red let the man go and kicked him in the face, sending him through the air to land hard on his back. "Now get out of here."

  Instead, his partner drew a sword and thrust at her eyes. Not wanting to complicate things by killing anyone, she left her weapons sheathed and just leaned aside, then grabbed his arm and pulled him close. She stunned him with an elbow, headbutted him senseless. The first man stood and charged her. Still? She stepped easily out of the way. A boot to the rump and he tripped, going face down in the dust.

  Putting a knee on his back, she grasped his head with both hands. "What are you doing, you bi-" he got out before she pushed him down to rub his face back and forth against the earth.

  "I'm going to ignore what you were about to say," she said. "But apologize to these people now if you don't want to eat more dirt."

  "I won't say sorry, you stupid ugly cow! When the boss finds out about this, you'll-"

  She clubbed him with her fist, knocking him out. She looked to the couple, who knelt picking up coins. "Sorry I couldn't get them to apologize. I just hope they'll think twice next time before bullying people."

  "Who is this embarrassing my men?" she heard a voice say behind her. It was crisp and youthful-sounding, and she turned expecting a none too imposing young man. Instead she found herself staring at a helmeted knight with a sea beast adorning his breastplate. He towered at least a couple inches over six and a half feet, and while not extremely bulky, had thick legs and wide shoulders that implied strength. In his hand, resting the tip against the ground, he held a great sword nearly as tall as him.

  "So you're their captain or something?" Red asked, drawing her knives. She didn't want to shed blood, but figured she might need a weapon or two for this.

  The huge knight gazed down calmly at her. "I am their 'boss,' as I told them to call me. And you are the famous Red Rider who has killed hundreds of vampires, are you not?"

  "Werewolves!" she said before realizing she raised her voice. The knight's nonchalant appraisal of her while acknowledging her abilities unnerved and hence flustered her. "It's werewolves. And do you have a famous name, to carry yourself with such pomp?"

  He seemed to consider how much to say. "I am called the Fourslayer by some. Have you heard of me?"

  "No. But I'd think you would have killed more than four to be so arrogant."

  "Maybe I'm a merciful fighter who defeats most opponents without taking life."

  She regarded his blade. "With a sword like that? Seems unlikely."

  He shrugged. "Seems that way. I won't kill you though, if you don't resist. You left my men alive. I'll simply have you flogged to show no one can get away with defying the law, especially not an outsider."

  Red supposed she could submit to avoid escalating the situation. But letting herself get injured could interfere with her mission, and she doubted this oversized walking bucket was the true authority of the region. She'd expose him and his underlings' corruption to the local lord and see what they had to say, after teaching him a lesson. "You'll hardly flog me."

  The knight cocked his head. "You'll stop me?"

  "We'll see." She charged, and he flipped his sword over in his hands to meet her. The gigantic blade swept whooshing at her face, but she dropped to her knees and slid under it towards him. Before her rising knives could touch him, his knee snapped up with brutal speed and plowed into her face. She was lifted off the earth and went flying away, crashing down on her back. Groggily, she propped herself up on an elbow and wiped blood from her nose. "Damn, you're fast for a big bastard."

  "What makes you think I'm a bastard?" He strode after her, swinging the sword.

  She rolled away and up. "It's an expression—but you knew that, you ass!" She backpedaled out of range of a slash. Shocking her again with his speed, he pursued too quickly with another and forced her to block. The impact hurled her onto her rump, and nearly tore both knives from her stinging hands. She dove under a nearby horse to put distance between them, only to see his giant hunk of a blade descending towards her anyway. What, how..? Only after narrowly rolling out of the way did her mind register the two equine chunks falling in opposite directions, and she realized the beast had been shorn in half.

  But the spray of blood had momentarily blinded the knight, and he stood blinking now trying to recover his sight. "What a waste, you ogrish brute!" Red spat, and thrust at his middle. He moved so her stab only pierced his side. She brought her other knife up towards the underside of his smooth, narrow chin, but he blocked it with an armored forearm and long fingers grabbed her head. Uh oh... she thought, just before he rammed her face into a nearby tree trunk and the world melted into a swimming blur. He did it again, tinting her vision red as one eye filled with blood, then swung her sideways to put her head through multiple branches. He released her and she flew again, this time landing on her belly. "Ack," she coughed, crawling on her hands and knees, "you'll pay for that."

  He touched his side. "You made me bleed, and damaged my armor. You're the one who should pay, and are."

  "Curse you!" She stood again and rushed him, swinging wildly. He parried several blows, sent her reeling against a wooden railing with a backhand. She dodged a downward slash that cut through the structure and tried to back up. He sprang after her, missed a chop that left his sword buried in the ground. She ran up the blade and jumped, knives plunging down at him.

  He caught her in midair with a volcano-like uppercut, and a white flash engulfed her vision as she was launched towards the sky. The pull of the earth reasserted itself and she plummeted down, spitting blood over her face as the collision with the ground drove the breath from her body. She tried to sit, but the world spun around her and she collapsed back down. Darkness closed in; she pushed it away with all her will, but as soon as she tried to move it started to rush back again.

  "Do you understand yet, little girl?" the knight asked coolly, walking around her while she struggled to recover.

  "All right, you're strong. But why don't you try using that strength to do some good instead of bullying others, big man?"

  The knight stopped in front of her and chuckled. "Big man? Who ever said... I was a man?" He—no, not he—reached up, and pulled off the helm to let loose a cascade of long light brown hair. The woman revealed looked to be in her late twenties to early thirties and attractive, with graceful features and a natu
rally smirky mouth. But goddamn, she was huge. Not fat, though, far from it though her meaty face made Red think she ate a lot of meat to feed her strength. Taking a better look at her massive legs, Red wouldn't be surprised if she could lift the same horse she had cleaved in two. "I am Leviatha, the lady who rules this land. They call me the Fourslayer because I once killed four men in one stroke at the Battle of the Rim. Now, are you ready to accept punishment or do you have to feel my sword first?"

  Chapter 2

  Red tried to get up, but made it no farther than her knees before falling on her side again. Her ears rang like crazy, her head throbbed and her neck was totally stiff. It'd been lucky enough that uppercut had not broken it. "For being such a famous fighter, I thought you'd put up more of a fight," Leviatha said, walking around her again.

  "You're more than a foot taller and twice as heavy as me," Red protested. "Besides, I'm used to fighting werewolves, not gigantic skilled war heroes."

  She grinned slightly. "You call me a hero? Thanks. Now if you're done fighting, give me your hands." She produced a length of rope from somewhere and reached down, prompting Red to swipe weakly at her. Being so woozy, she swung too early and her knife didn't even come close. "Oh, please. I could finish knocking you out the instant I choose. You don't want to be embarrassed by being carried under my arm like a pig, do you? Last chance."

  "W-wait!" cried the woman Red had tried to help. "She wasn't doing anything wrong. She was just getting our money back after your men robbed us." Now she speaks up? Red thought. But she probably felt intimidated in the presence of the giantess, like most people would.

  "Oh, really?" Leviatha looked towards the soldiers, who had recovered somewhat and now cowered under her gaze.

  "We t-thought they might be stealing from the mine and selling it," the man Red had headbutted stammered. "So we took some of their gold to make up for it."