The Horde King of Shadow (Hordes of the Elthika #1)

Chapter 10

KLARA

I was surprised that Sarkin left me on my own, though I shouldn’t have been. According to him, Zaridan had my scent. She could find me anywhere. And I believed that. I was trapped without the bars of a dungeon, held tethered and leashed by his dragon.

Not that I had anywhere else to go. I’d agreed to this. And on the journey to Sarroth, I’d vowed to myself that I would take advantage of this surreal situation, to learn whatever I could about the Karag, to learn about the Elthika, and to learn about my purpose here.

Because I had a purpose here. Sarkin had made that clear. But I wasn’t going to explore that purpose for him . It was only for me. To answer the questions I’d had for years. To understand the strange stories my mother had whispered about for my entire life.

Something greater was happening now. I was no longer in control of my own fate, and I accepted that.

When I stepped inside the small structure, I saw that it was clean, if spartan. Perhaps it had belonged to a groundskeeper… whoever had once tended to the overgrown garden swallowing it up.

The inside comprised of a simple room with a raised bed—just like in the Dothikkar ’s palace, though I preferred a nest of furs on the floor like in the hordes—a high table, chairs, and a stone hearth on the opposite side. There was a room off the back wall, and when I inspected that, I saw it was a washroom with a sunken-in bathing pool flush with the floor. It was steaming, already filled with water. I’d never seen one so large.

Immediately I stripped off, lowering my satchel to the ground gently. The walls in here were a black stone, so polished that I could see my reflection in them. I saw dark bruises across my flesh. Around my shoulders where the satchel had dug into them, the force and velocity of dragon flight punishing. Bruises in my abdomen from where I’d hunched over the harness, a round metal knob pressing into it. My palms were raw and blistered. Between my thighs, the skin was so hot to the touch, chafed and irritated.

My whole body hurt, and when I stepped down into the steaming pool, I nearly screamed as the water met my wounds. But after the initial searing pain passed, I breathed out a sigh of relief, the heat beginning to loosen my sore muscles.

It was only morning, and yet I felt like I could sleep away the day and night. My eyelids began to droop, my neck lolling back.

When I woke, my skin was puckered and pruned, but I was still so incredibly tired. I crawled from the bath, blotting at my wet skin with a black cloth I found, and managed to stumble to the bed. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, bright and merciless, and I collapsed onto the thin blankets.

It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but that didn’t stop my eyes from sliding shut. As the cool air drifted over my drying skin, I thought, briefly, it felt like a calming touch. It felt nice.

I slept.

The forest floor was glowing. It looked like an iridescent mist was sweeping and swirling across the ground, but when I crouched and pressed my fingers into the earth, it was cool and damp. The sounds of the forest were hushed. There was a reverent quiet here, a divine peace. I scarcely dared to breathe in fear I would disrupt the balance.

Trees surrounded me, towering canopies dripping with white leaves threaded with blue veins. The tree trunks were thick, as wide and immovable as the gold statues that dotted Dothik. Above me, the sky was dark, and I knew this was a dream.

Only it felt different. It felt real . I’d always been aware when I’d been dreaming. I’d always been aware of what was happening in the moment, but I’d never experienced this .

It felt like I’d been dropped inside a forest. I touched my skin, realized it was still bare from my bath. I was naked in a dark forest, but I no longer felt the stiffness and soreness from riding on Zaridan. I felt no pain at all.

When I smoothed my hand over the trunk of a nearby tree, it scraped against my palm, the texture rough.

Wake up, I thought, suddenly alarmed. Because this was too intense. I’d only ever seen snippets of places in my visions. They’d always been blurred at the edges, never clear. They’d been manageable that way because a part of me could always write them off as imagination.

This was different. When I breathed, I could smell the decay of leaves and the earthiness of the damp soil. My nipples puckered tightly when a stray breeze funneled through the trees, and I suppressed a shiver, rubbing at my arms.

There was a bright spot just below my feet, glowing underneath the topsoil. I crouched down, my heart booming in my chest like a horde drum.

I began to dig, my fingernails scraping at the earth, the fragrance of the dirt hitting my nostrils. Deeper and deeper I dug until?—

The glow of a heartstone, the biggest I’d ever seen or researched, illuminated a horned beetle I’d uncovered, which immediately wiggled its way back into the wall of soil, disappearing.

A soft exhale left me, and I reached down to smooth my fingertips over the heartstone. It was rooted into place. I realized it was attached to the roots of the tree . Like fruit on a vine. The roots were pulsing with light, giving energy to the heartstone, giving it life.

The tree?

Dazed, I stood, tilting my head back to inspect it carefully. Why was it so familiar? I’d seen it before, hadn’t I? But what I couldn’t determine was if it’d been in a dream or not. Had I been here before?

A headache bloomed behind my left eye, and I hissed, pressing my fingers to my brow bone hard.

Overhead, I heard the unmistakable wings of an Elthika, and my neck snapped back, my throat exposed as I scanned the sky through the thick canopies. Zaridan?

No, I thought, seeing the familiar flash of silver scales. It was him .

“Wait!” I cried out, sudden desperation pushing me into a sprint, following it. My feet dug into the soft soil, slipping on slick leaves, and I nearly stumbled over thick, exposed roots. “Please! Thryn’ar…esh lyiss! ”

It was the only Karag I could remember, and I had no idea what it meant. But maybe?—

The dragon roared but never stopped. My heart throbbed in time with the pounding of my feet, and I tried to keep track of the dragon overhead, narrowly running into a wide tree and dodging it at the last moment.

“Wait!”

I needed to know why I’d been seeing this dragon in my dreams for decades. It had to mean something, just like seeing Zaridan.

The forest gave way to an open cliffside. Beyond that was endless ocean, glittering in the moonlight, and I felt a flash of despair in my chest as I watched the silver-scaled dragon fly farther and farther away. Out of my reach. Again.

Before I reached the cliff, I heard, “Klara!”

All at once, the dream ended abruptly, falling away like a veil.

Wind was whipping my hair and exposed skin, cold and icy, the pain of my body returning in a dizzying rush. Below me was an endless drop down to Sarroth. It was pitch black, save for a sliver of a crescent moon overhead?—

“ What are you doing? ” Sarkin’s roar came from behind me. “Wake up, Klara!”

I gasped, feeling my feet slip on the edge of a cliff when I turned to the voice. For one breathless moment, I met Sarkin’s wild gaze as he sprinted to reach me…

But then I was tumbling over the edge.

My scream was silent as I scrambled violently, thrashing my limbs and arms, trying to find purchase on anything. I managed to grip the ledge of a rock, my palm splitting over a rough edge, accompanied by a piercing stab at my side.

Animal sounds escaped me, terror making me gasp, trying to find air.

A dragon’s roar reverberated against the mountain, and I felt the rush of wind. Zaridan?

Sarkin’s appeared, reaching down for my hand.

“Take it!” he demanded.

But my bloodied grip was slippery. I felt it slide.

“Klara!”

Then I was falling.