Mowab Rider

  Copyright 2017 Lucía Ashta.

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Awaken to Peace Press.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Cover design by Lou Harper.

  Edited by Ellen Campbell.

  I strive to produce error-free books. If you discover a mistake, please contact me at luciamashta@gmail.com so I may correct it. Thank you!

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  About Mowab Rider

  I’ll go anywhere to find Princess Ilara. Even to the Wilds—where people disappear and don’t come back.

  The rebels are resisting King Oderon’s rule. I don’t blame them, I’d resist too if I could get away with it.

  But the rebels don’t know that. They’ll kill me and never ask questions. Especially now that they’re united by a rebel who can tame the mowabs, the fiercest animals of all Origins.

  Anyone who can ride mowabs must be as beastly as they are. Good thing Dolpheus has my back. We’ll need every one of his skills and all of mine to escape the Mowab Rider with our lives.

  For those who are quiet so they can listen.

  Circumstances are rarely what they seem. Look beyond the apparent to the extraordinary.

  Contents

  Mowab Rider

  Planet Origins - Book 1

  Make a difference

  Acknowledgments

  Read more by Lucía Ashta

  About the author

  Mowab Rider

  Dolpheus and I were used to the stares. Curious eyes had followed us for so many centuries that I barely noticed them anymore, though tonight I did. Tonight I noticed every sound and movement that didn’t belong to the Koal Desert, the farthest—and most dangerous—region of the Wilds of Planet Origins.

  “What are all these people doing up?” Dolpheus whispered. “The Auxle Sun is still high in the sky. They should be sleeping.”

  That’s what we’d counted on. That’s why we were traveling during the rule of the lesser of the two suns when most people on O slept and when we’d prefer to be sleeping. I said, “I don’t know. Because they don’t trust outsiders?”

  “I guess. If I were them, I wouldn’t trust outsiders either.”

  Outsiders mostly assaulted or killed them. Unless they recognized us, they might assume the same of us. And if they did recognize us, there was a chance they’d accuse us of our previous wrongdoings. We might not have killed gratuitously when we were high-ranking soldiers in King Oderon’s army, but we’d killed.

  The rebels that lived in the Wilds kept to themselves. No one else on all of Origins looked out for them. Even the King, who proclaimed to rule for the good of his people, sought only to bring these particular people under his rule—by any means necessary. Before we left the army for potentially dubious and mercenary ways, we’d had to enforce the King’s will. Whomever we’d killed in the Wilds was a parent or child or some other relative of these people who now tracked every one of our moves with eyes as sharp as blades.

  Dolpheus and I were astride our favorite horses. Even though we could have transported here in moments on our own instead of spending long days traveling across O to get here, we were unwilling to leave our horses behind, because we trusted them more than we trusted most humans, and we needed every advantage we could get out here. Besides, we needed stillness to transport and not leave a body part or two behind. And the rebels wouldn’t afford us stillness, not if they decided to attack.

  In our search for Princess Ilara, we’d scour the planet. We’d turn over every rock and search every den. I’d go to the ends of O to find the woman I loved, and Dolpheus, who’d had my back since we were boys, would go to the ends of O with me. Better to have our horses along the way, because I wouldn’t stop until I found her.

  “Whaddya want here?” The hard voice of a woman broke the unnatural silence of the night.

  Since we’d entered the rebels’ dwelling area, I could only make out the sounds of our horses’ hooves falling against the dirt. But the threats were there, observing us from their hiding places, whether I could hear them or not. Dolpheus understood this too. Although he carried himself with his usual poise, his shoulders were hard and straight. Like me, he was on edge.

  I tried to scan the faces of those that watched us from the openings to their dwellings. I always looked to the eyes to gauge a person’s intentions. I searched for the woman who’d spoken.

  But the deep, dark shadows of the rock dwellings hid the rebels’ faces, making them look as sinister and dangerous as they really were.

  The Koal Desert was unforgiving. Its parched, hard-packed red dirt yielded little intended to nurture life. The days were hot, the nights cold, and the occasional sandstorm whipped so furiously that it’d kill anyone it caught.

  Those who made their home in this harshest part of the Wilds were equally unforgiving. Animal and human realized that the choices of their every moment defined their survival. The rebels dealt in life and death every day.

  I didn’t like speaking to someone without seeing them, but I couldn’t afford to delay my response any longer or they’d take it as a sign of aggression. Dolpheus and I set off for the Wilds fully aware that the chances of us getting in and out without drawing our swords were slim. Regardless, we’d try.

  “We mean you no harm,” I said while a part of me wondered how many people had said this same thing to them before attacking. Oers weren’t known for their honesty or integrity. Greed, corruption, and deceit were O’s predominant diseases.

  Silence met my announcement. I continued, “We’re looking for someone.”

  I sensed a tension rise amid the shadows, and I hurried to elaborate. “We’re not here looking for one of your own. We’re here for an outsider.”

  Dolpheus added, “This person wants to be found. She’s on the run, in danger, and we mean to protect her from those who want to kill her.”

  There was a shuffling from the shadows, bare feet against sand and rock. I took it as a sign that they were at least considering our words. At least I hadn’t heard the telltale sound of weapons being drawn. Of course, concealed by the caverns behind them, they might already hold knives or swords at the ready.

  I didn’t make assumptions. I avoided them like the threat they were. Assumptions got you killed. These people were armed and dangerous until I witnessed proof that they weren’t.

  Finally, another voice emerged from the darkness. “Who’s this person you’re looking for?”

  Before I had the chance to answer, I heard Dolpheus’ voice inside my head. You can’t tell them, Tan.

  Of course I won’t, Olph. You don’t think I know better? I replied to Dolpheus through my brain waves and hurried on before he could respond with his usual sarcasm. I didn’t always know better and I didn’t want to hear him say it.

  “A woman,” I said to the rebels. “Traveling alone. Trying to avoid being seen.”

  I left off what I was thinking: Trying to avoid being recognized. Ilara was the most recognizable woman on the entire planet. Not only was she the most sensual woman I’d ever had the pleasure to meet, with rich curves of mouth and body that she worked with a tantalizing sway, but her eyes were unique. Although there’d been another woman in the line of the Andaron Dynasty to possess irises that reflected the cosmos, Ilara was the only one alive with eyes like hers.

  If anyone saw her eyes, they’d immediately know she was the princess of all Origins. The princess who was supposed to be dead.

  “She has long, black hair,” Dolpheus said but then stopped and spoke only to me. Shit, Tan. There’s nothing more we can say that won’t give who she is away.

  I know, I said with a pang. My Ilara was unlike any other woman on O. I couldn’t allow myself to believe she was dead because I realized I’d never be able to replace her. I’d never love another like I loved her. Even in these tense circumstances, my body responded to my desire to love her and her perfect body again. I had to shift in my saddle as my dick came alive.

  Distractions were nearly as dangerous as assumptions. I spoke, mostly to pull away from thoughts of me inside her. “She’s a skilled warrior. And while she would’ve meant you no harm, she would’ve carried herself as if she knew what she was doing.”

  It was mostly pointless information—Ilara moved like a cat—but my dick was softening, so I kept going. “She would’ve been hiding her face, anything the people trying to kill her might recognize. Have you seen anyone like this come through here in the last couple of weeks?”

  No response from the shadows.

  “We’re offering a reward for her safe delivery to us,” Dolpheus said. “We’ll reward any good information about this woman’s whereabouts, however small.”

  Still nothing.

  Dolpheus said, “We don’t pay in roones. We pay in the purest sand harvested from Planet Sand.”

  The whisperings started almost immediately. Too soft for us to make out, we could imagine what they were saying. We’d made offers like these before, though never for Ilara. Pure sand was a motivator for every social class on O. The rich, who already possessed heaps of pure sand, always wanted more. And pure sand gave the poor an advantage they couldn’t easily achieve otherwise. Planet Origins had plenty of its own sand. In fact, there were vast stretches of it just beyond the rebels’ dwellings. But no one wanted the black sand of O; I was one of the few to think it beautiful when the suns gl
ittered across it. They wanted the white, fine sand that could be melted to create crystalline-looking glass.

  Because I knew what Oers were willing to do for pure sand, I added, “We do pay in pure sand, but we pay only for information we can verify. We’re men of our word, and we’ll pay, but first we need to confirm that what you say is true.”

  It was perhaps a bit much to tell these people, who didn’t trust anyone outside of their own, that we didn’t trust them; but then, we didn’t. We’d be fools to do so. The rebels were as dangerous as the courtiers of King Oderon’s court. On the surface, the two groups appeared as different as pure sand and black sand, but within, they were the same. They looked out for themselves and their own above all else.

  In that, they were like Dolpheus and me as well. Dolpheus and I had each other’s backs. We were more family than our real families. I considered Ilara family too, even if the Crown forbade our love, making it illicit—and all the more arousing.

  I’d do whatever it took to return Ilara to Origins. Because I could feel it in my gut, She was alive.

  I hadn’t been able to stop trying to bring Ilara back since the moment her death was announced across the comm waves. Dolpheus and I were among the few Oers who didn’t believe we needed comms to mind speak, but we’d figured the news out fast enough. I’d known before anyone shared the news with us. As if someone had punched me in the gut, hard pain pierced right through me.

  A squeaky voice interrupted my thoughts. I had to pull my mind away from loss to the chance that Ilara somehow survived. I forced myself to focus on the words the boy was saying.

  “I think I seen a woman with long, black hair comin’ through here. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, so I noticed.”

  I pointed my horse toward the sound, willing the boy, whose voice was transforming into that of a man, to step out from the shadows so I could judge the truth of his words.

  “When did this woman come through here?” Dolpheus asked while my heart pounded furiously in my throat.

  “About a week ago?” the boy said. His voice sounded dubious. Was it because he couldn’t remember, or because he was trying to guess what we wanted to hear? What would get us to hand over the vials of pure sand that were O’s greatest treasure, even if they didn’t come from Origins.

  “We’re looking for a woman that has a specific mark on both wrists,” Dolpheus said. “Did she have these?”

  “Oh aye,” the boy said. “It was too dark to make them out exactly, and she wore clothes over her wrists. But there was a moment when she moved on her horse and I saw a bit of it. A dark mark.”

  “So she was on a horse?” Dolpheus asked.

  “Aye.”

  “And was the dark mark on the outside or inside of her wrist?”

  “The inside. Definitely the inside.”

  “All right. Thank you. Does anyone else think they saw the woman we’re looking for?”

  A slew of rebels began to talk all at once.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Dolpheus said. “One at a time.”

  Rebels began to emerge from the shadows, putting their desire for pure sand above safety.

  You do it, Olph, I said, knowing he’d hear me through his mind despite the clamoring cacophony. I can’t. I also knew he’d understand why I couldn’t. Ilara didn’t have any marks on either of her wrists. The rebels would just take turns repeating a story they thought might hit the mark. They’d take the cues the boy set in his story and elaborate, hoping to say the right thing to earn them sand.

  We’d been through it before, since we set out from the royal city looking for answers all across O, searching for any whisper or rumor that might lead us to wherever Ilara must be hiding out. Because she couldn’t be dead. That’s the one thing I couldn’t accept.

  Even though it was unlikely that any of these rebels would have the clue we were looking for, we’d listen to each of their stories, sifting for that one piece of truth that could point us in the right direction.

  Or at least, Dolpheus would. I didn’t have the heart for it tonight. Our journey had been long and disappointing. There was only so much letdown a lover could take, even if no one realized I was her lover.

  Dolpheus was saying, “Come on. One at a time or we can’t do this. Decide on your own who goes first or I will.”

  When two women started speaking at once, I moved my horse a few steps away from the fray. I couldn’t afford to go any farther away nor to face away from the rebels, who were as much liars as every other group we’d attempted to cull for hints of Ilara. I had to protect Dolpheus. I had to remain close enough to interfere if anything happened. After all, these people, though untrained in the formal ways of fighting, were as dangerous as anybody. Desperation was a powerful motivator, and it cut a fierce edge around any warrior.

  And if Ilara was truly dead, then Dolpheus was the only person that remained on all of O that I cared about. He was the only one that cared about me.

  My father, Lord Brachius, was the reason Ilara was absent from my life, leaving a void as deep as a crater. He was the one who ordered the assassination attempts on the royal family. His assassins were the ones who managed to kill the Queen and nearly kill the woman I loved. If she hadn’t been secretly sharing my bed instead of in her own at the royal palace, she’d be dead, and there’d be nothing my gut could say about it.

  I watched Dolpheus and the small mob surrounding him beneath the soft, burnt glow of the Auxle Sun, but I tried to tune out the voices, even his.

  I urged my thoughts away from the tortured ones I’d been having since Ilara left my bed twenty-two days ago. I allowed my eyes to roam, though never far from Dolpheus. The rebels that surrounded him were mostly women and children, the only men runts of the litter. There were none of the telling glints of metal reflecting the orange from the sun. But hard men and women with hard eyes still watched from the recessed entrances to their stone homes. And I had no doubt they had hard, sharp metal within their reach.

  I kept watch for wild men, women, and animals, though the rebels must be keeping watch for mowabs as well. Even the rebels, who had a way with animals they didn’t have with people, weren’t able to tame the animals of the Wilds to their purposes. The mowab was the largest and most ferocious of all of O’s animals, and it refused to be tamed. It could bend people to its will, not the other way around, and it was one of the main reasons that most Oers lived and died without ever traveling to the Wilds.

  I trailed my eyes across my friend, the renowned ladies’ man, who had a way with people in general as much as he did with women, even if the voluptuous kind were his specialty. He could handle himself in most situations. As often as he and I faced death, looking it deep in the eyes, we’d managed to survive with fewer scrapes than most. We’d outlived thousands of soldiers that had marched into battle with us.

  It wasn’t because the Something Greater the Devoteds believed in gifted us with luck. No. We made our own luck. It was because we trained harder than anyone else, and because we made it our business to be sharper than most everyone else.

  The Auxle Sun reflected across seas of black sand that surrounded the rebel village on all sides. I spotted no mowabs. There were no matte spots against the patches of glittering sand. There were no herds wandering, mining for the small, slimy animals that lived beneath the sand.

  But that didn’t put me at ease. I knew from several unpleasant experiences that mowabs could appear seemingly out of nowhere, thundering across the open desert as if the devil were at their heels. They were faster than logic accounted for. Massive animals, the largest weighing as much as a dozen full-grown men, they could run and jump as fast—if not faster—than our horses, trained for battle and speed.

  Mowabs had fur that lengthened in manes around their faces. The females were vicious, and the males, even fiercer, had huge balls that hung so low they peeked from beneath their black coats, a reminder that they were the ones designed to rule this world. But worst of all were their eyes, which glowed red as if an internal fire gave them life, as if they were beasts forged in hell.