Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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Chapter 27KLARA

“You want us to…what?” I asked, gulping.

Kan, another acolyte, snickered until Kyavor shot him a stern look.

“You heard me right, Acolyte,” he said. “You first.”

In the middle of the river, jutting out over the edge of the waterfall, was a narrow plank attached to what appeared to be a practice mount. The body of which had the wide curvature of an Elthika’s back, a harness slung over.

What filled me with trepidation was that the metal plank was attached to a mechanism, of which Kyavor would be handling. He’d demonstrated it, flipping switches and pressing smooth buttons, cranking a handle on the side all the while. It caused the Elthika’s mount to turn and sway, as if it were in flight.

While I’d been on Zaridan’s back for more hours than I could count, Sarkin had always been there. All I’d had to do was hang on for dear life, his strong thighs encasing me, making me feel safe and secure in the air with him.

During this training exercise, I would be alone and dangling over the edge of the waterfall that, after navigating the staircase down its length last night, I knew was a steep drop.

“There’s a net below, Acolyte,” Kyavor said, as if reading my mind. “You don’t need to fear falling. In fact, you will fall. Most do. Falling is a skill in itself that you will also need to master.”

I was stiff with fear at those words. My nerves were even shakier given the crowd that this particular exercise drew.

Out in the river, when we’d been practicing our mounts, jumping from the small ledge, there had been a few horde members who would watch from the river’s edge. Hatchery workers would eat their lunch and watch us too from their fenced-in enclosure.

But today? Nearly half the horde was gathered along the riverbank. Groups had spread out blankets, lounging in the sun because it was a nice, balmy morning. Some had even brought snacks, nibbling on bread and what I thought might be aged cheese.

And when I saw Sarkin strolling up with Feranos?

On Kakkari, I wanted the river to swallow me up.

“And I have to go first?” I asked, lowering my voice so only Kyavor would hear.

His brow raised. Briefly, his eyes flickered past me, no doubt spotting my husband among the crowd. His gaze returned to mine, and there was no mercy there.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “You are the Sorrina to your people, are you not? Lead by example.”

He had it out for me. Or maybe Sarkin had told him to go extra hard on me because I was severely at a disadvantage of my younger-but-more-experienced peers. With the exception of two younger riders—both blood borns who had been in instruction since they’d been twelve—nearly the entirety of my class would be entering the illa’rosh. Which meant competition would be steep.

I waded through the river, my boots soaking through, navigating to the metal plank, bracing myself when I turned my back to the river current. The plank was thick and sturdy but barely wider than my booted foot.

Briefly, I turned my head to regard Sarkin. He was standing along the riverbank, his arms crossed over his chest, Feranos at his side. I saw Levanth too, though she was speaking with Ryena.

This exercise would be child’s play to a rider like her, a little voice in my head reminded me.

Sarkin reclaimed my gaze. I swore I could still feel the strength of his grip on my hips from last night. My breathing went even more shallow, thinking of his warm skin and the sweep of his tongue.

I’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, but I’d woken alone this morning. This was the first time I was seeing him since our lovemaking, and I found myself looking to him for comfort. For assurance?

He inclined his head at me, those dark eyes intense and watchful, and I took a deep breath.

“Everyone falls their first time,” Kyavor’s voice came, loudly. “That should make you feel better, Acolyte.”

“It doesn’t,” I grumbled under my breath, inhaling deeply as I placed my slippery foot on the metal plank.

As I steadied myself, I looked out over the view from the top of the river. I could see endless forests, valleys, and majestic mountains. The sun was casting everything golden, highlighting every inch of beauty of the Arsadia. I thought of the quiet but dark archives, the whisper of paper and the murmuring of hushed voices. I wondered where I would rather be at this moment.

And with the memory of Sarkin’s kiss and the knowledge that he thought I was beautiful…I thought that I wouldn’t trade this view for anything.

Even if fear made me tremble.

I balanced myself, holding my arms out parallel, as I stepped fully out on the beam. Belatedly, I realized that most riders would have done a running jump mount, but it was too late for that.

Navigating the beam was easier than expected, and I was relieved when I dropped onto the harness, assuming the rider position—back straight but bent low over the Elthika’s body, thighs tight and braced, and with a steady grip on both tethers. Riders could either use the tether or just keep their hands on the bar that ran across the harness. Sarkin had always used the tethers for Zaridan, however, and so I didn’t think twice about reaching for them. Everything was wet from the spray of the waterfalls. Perhaps on purpose, to prepare for any situation on Elthika-back.

It was my mistake to look down. I went a little dizzy when I saw the drop and the rushing violence of the waterfall.

“Ready?” Kyavor called out.

I heard my own gulp over the noise, my hands tightening on the leather straps.

I can do this, I thought. I have to.

Kyavor’s system of levers and pulls was a surprisingly intricate mechanism. The mount jolted into motion, the force and strength of which surprised me. My first thought was it did actually feel like riding Zaridan, but then panic set in when my grip began to slip.

My eyes flicked down the drop of the waterfall, my heart beginning to pound so fast and hard that it felt like a punch in my chest.

Stop, I wanted to cry out. Tears pricked the inner corners of my eyes, and it took everything in me not to plead to Kyavor. It would embarrass Sarkin. It would make me look weak in front of his entire horde…because word would spread like wildfire through Rysar.

My thighs slid, and I let out a little cry before I could stop myself, my hands scrambling to hold on to the tethers tighter and tighter. They were slippery in my grip. I released them, instead using the bar in one last attempt to hold on.

Kyavor was merciless with his machine. It was what I imagined trying to ride on the back of a wild wrissan felt like. He was trying to make me fall.

When my thighs slid off the harness when Kyavor tilted the body of the Elthika model, there was no stopping the fall. There was a part of me that wanted to fall, if only to end this. This fear, this panic. When my hands let go, I didn’t know if it was willing or not.

I heard the collective gasp from the horde when I tumbled off the side. My gut dropped, an unpleasant fluttering beginning in my throat as my scream escaped me. I was freefalling, my thoughts wild, hands flailing out to try to grip something, to try to catch my fall. It reminded me of Sarroth, of tumbling off the side of the cliff. If Sarkin hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t caught me in time, I would be dead.

My eyes squeezed shut, willing the world to stop.

Please, please, please, I prayed. To Kakkari? I didn’t know. To anyone—god, goddess, or Elthika—who would listen, more likely.

The net knocked the wind right of me. I lay there in disbelief, tears dripping out of the corners of my eyes, mingling with the mist of the falls as I stared up at the sky. Gasping. Trying to breathe. Trying to understand that I was alive.

My hands curled into the weave of the rope net beneath me, using it to stabilize me. The rough scratch of it felt comforting. I was halfway down the cliffside, and when I caught my breath, I crawled off the net, keeping my eyes up and not on the drop below me. I made it to the staircase that led back up to the landing on shaking legs.

Reality hit me. I’d maybe lasted a few seconds on the mount, though it had seemed a hundred times longer. Above me, I watched as Vyaria did a leaping mount onto the Elthika model, and mortification burned. I pressed my back into the cliff wall, watching as my partner easily maneuvered through the exercise, no matter what Kyavor threw at her. Her position was unmovable. I didn’t see her slip once.

I heard footsteps on the stone steps. When I turned my head and saw Sarkin, I bit my lip, tilting my head back.

“Don’t lie to me…how bad was it?” I asked, eyeing Vyaria.

“I told you before—your fear of falling will only hinder you. You must overcome it,” Sarkin replied, making me blow out a breath.

“I can’t go back up there,” I breathed. “All those people watching…”

Sarkin came down the final few steps. I felt his hand come to my cheek, tilting my face up toward him. He was warm and solid. I wanted to reach out a hand to press against his chest, to feel his sturdy and stable heart, to let it ground me. But I didn’t know if it would be welcome. So much was still uncertain between us, though last night had been a step forward.

“Is that a factor? The horde watching?” he asked.

“It doesn’t help,” I admitted, catching his eyes. Above us, Vyaria was still on the mount. Clang, clang, clang, the machinery went, bumping above the strong metal stabilizing plank. “I know I’ll be watched more than others. And I don’t like…I don’t like being bad at anything. I don’t like other people to see me fail.”

“That is all riding is in the beginning,” Sarkin told me. His eyes were beautiful in the shadowy light of the cliff. The mist from the waterfall danced between us, sparkling in the sunlight. “Everyone expects you to fail…until you don’t anymore.”

“I felt like I was watched in Dothik all the time,” I admitted. “The bastard child of the king. Everyone was waiting for me to slip up. I’ve heard all sorts of things said about me, my mother. Horrible things. Here…the Sarrothian expect greatness because I’m now your wife. I hate…I hate being laughed at.”

“No one is laughing at you,” Sarkin said immediately, his tone inviting no rebuttal. “That’s all in your head.”

They were sweet words, meant only to comfort me, but I knew the truth. If I couldn’t master riding an Elthika, I would never be one of them.

“Come,” Sarkin said, his grip trailing my face to take my hand. “You don’t want an audience? We will train in private.”

My brow furrowed. “What?”

“This exercise,” Sarkin said, waving his hand above us, “is only that. It will help you prepare for the real thing, but it can never be a replacement for it.”

There was resignation in his voice, which confused me.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Sarkin led me up the stairs, and I braced myself for the eyes of his horde.

“To the Tharken cliffs,” he answered.

My breath hitched. “But that’s…”

“Yes,” he answered. “I’ll give you the real thing.”

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Chapter 28SARKIN

We reached the Tharken cliffs by the afternoon, just as the bright sunlight crested over the tall peaks, and we could see the stretch of ocean that extended out toward where Elysom lay.

“It’s beautiful,” Klara breathed when we hovered in midair on Zaridan’s back. I’d wanted her to see this. I found myself wanting to show her all the beautiful places of the Arsadia…even though this place also brought many memories with it, tethered tight to me like cuffs.

It was colder here, and even with the sun, there was still a gentle fog bank rolling in from the coast. Cloud cover weaved in and out of the peaks of the mountainous cliffs, reappearing and disappearing at regular intervals.

She might hate me by the end of this training session, I thought, gritting my teeth, my arms wrapping tighter around her.

I was hesitant to do this to her, but I knew it was necessary. Breaking one’s fear was pertinent to success as a rider. Panic got you killed. Fear paralyzed you. Some might not’ve agreed with these methods, but I needed her to understand that there was truly nothing to fear. Not when I was here. Not when I was around. She was my wife. I would always protect her.

Even if I had be cruel first.

I urged Zaridan forward, weaving into the pass of the Tharken cliffs so that the tall mountains jutted on both sides of us. Like they were closing in around us.

“These cliffs will be covered with Elthika in a few weeks’ time,” I murmured into her ear.

“Is this where you saw Zaridan for the first time?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, sweeping my hand in front of her vision. “Just beyond this cliff here.”

And where my friend fell to his death, I thought.

In the rush of adrenaline after claiming Zaridan, I’d flown too high with her during our first flight. When Lygath had thrown Haden off his back, I would’ve never been able to reach him in time, even with a death dive. If I’d stayed closer to the base of the cliffs, if I hadn’t been so elated with my claim, Haden would still be alive.

During Klara’s choosing ceremony, I would be at the very bottom, tracking her movements closely. Nothing would distract me. She had nothing to fear because…I’d learned from that tragic mistake. I would never make it again.

When I tugged on Zaridan’s tethers, she stilled in midair again, her wings flapping rhythmically, keeping us hovering high above the pass below. Wisps of gray clouds floated around us, and Klara shuddered. Our clothes had dried from the waterfall on our journey here, but it was colder closer to the coast.

“No one is watching here,” I told her. It was quiet, save for Zaridan’s wings. The Elthika wouldn’t start migrating to this territory for another two weeks. We were alone here. “All right?”

“Except you,” she answered, shifting to regard me. I supported her back as she did. Her feet dangled over the harness with her turned to the side. “I don’t want you to see me fail either. Most of all, you.”

“That’s inevitable,” I informed her, trying to keep my voice gentle. “It won’t make me think less of you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Those are pretty words,” she said, a sad smile on her lips. “But I’m not sure I believe them. You would care what your horde thinks of me. I’m aware of that more than you are.”

I blew out a rough breath through my nostrils, steeling my spine. We swayed with Zaridan’s movements. And we were here for a purpose, even if Klara might not understand it yet.

“When you fall, you want to give your Elthika time to catch you,” I told her. “It’s important to keep a steady mind and to think through it logically. Position yourself parallel with the earth, spread your arms and legs out wide to reduce your acceleration. Anything to give you drag. To give your Elthika time.”

“Have you ever fallen?” she asked, trepidation rising in her voice.

“Many times,” I said. “You can be unseated in countless situations. Last time I fell, we were flying home from the Arsadia two seasons ago. We encountered a storm just before we reached the mainland. Zaridan dodged a bolt of lightning, just like what happened to us returning from Dakkar, but I wasn’t prepared. It was a sharp turn, I’d loosened my grip on the tethers…”

Her breathing went shallow.

“Falling is a normal part of being a rider. That’s why you need to get used to it, Klara. Because the fear of it will get you killed if you panic,” I said.

She looked focused at those words, like she was committing them to memory. It was how I’d picture her in her precious archives in Dothik, her expression determined.

I dragged in a deep breath.

“Remember what I told you before…I’m not your husband right now. I’m not your king. I’m not your friend. I’m your instructor. Whatever I do to you, I would do to any acolyte under my training. Do you understand?”

Her brows furrowed, a frown turning down her mouth. “Sarkin⁠—”

“And falling can happen so quickly that you never see it coming,” I said, gritting my teeth.

I grabbed Klara’s waist⁠—

And I flung her off Zaridan’s back.

Her resounding scream of surprise and fear made everything in me rebel. I growled, restless. My first impulse was to immediately dive for her, just as I’d done in Sarroth that night. I felt wild panic burning in my chest. Not because I thought she was in danger. But because the last thing I wanted to do was make her feel so much terror.

Yet it was inevitable.

“Come on, aralye,” I pleaded softly, watching her grow smaller and smaller below us. “Do what I told you to do. Focus!”

Zaridan’s wings were flapping quicker, and she maneuvered her body so that the angle would be easier for a death dive. I’d done this exercise myself in the year after I’d become a Karath, in the year after Haden’s death. I’d jumped off the back of Zaridan more times than I could count. She’d caught me every single time. I trusted her with my life. I trusted her with Klara’s life. I would never have put her in danger if I had any doubt.

The Tharken cliffs were steep. We were high up in the clouds, but nonetheless, Zaridan began to circle downward, tracking Klara’s fall.

And when I finally saw her limbs spread wide, when I finally saw her stop tumbling and somersaulting wildly in the air and she moved her body into a parallel position, I commanded to Zaridan, “Sethra!”

I pressed my body low against her back, locking my boots into place in the footholds, wrapping my fists twice around the tethers. The descent as Zaridan accelerated created that familiar fluttering sensation in my belly. I grunted against the force, tightening my leg muscles, shoving my inner thighs to the harness. The strength of the force was nearly enough to unseat me.

Closer and closer we got to Klara. Her speed had slowed now that she had control over her body, making it easier for Zaridan to come underneath her at a slight angle, matching her pace so the landing wouldn’t be so rough.

When I caught Klara, all the air whooshed out from her lungs and she dragged in deep breaths, gasping. Zaridan immediately slowed, leveling out. By the time Klara was no longer struggling to breathe, Zaridan was hovering again, the wind quieting all around us. I could even hear the crash of waves along the cliffs of the coast, though they were miles and miles away.

“Klara—”

She was huddled against me in my lap, her legs dangling over Zaridan’s side, but at the sound of her name, her head snapped up. Hot anger was written over her face, an expression I’d never seen before, even though tears were glassy in her eyes.

“Are you fucking crazy?” she yelled, pushing at my shoulder. “You could have killed me, you bastard!”

My shoulders lowered, a small breath escaping me in relief. I would take her passionate anger over cold and careful rage.

“And yet you’re still alive,” I answered, keeping my voice calm as my hand trailed to the small of her back.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” she seethed, trying to shake me off even though we were on the back of Zaridan and she truly had nowhere else to go. “How could you do that to me? It was cruel!”

“Cruel, perhaps,” I said, setting my jaw. “But necessary. You think I enjoyed doing that?”

She shook her head, words escaping her. Her hands came up to her hair, smoothing it down as her shoulders heaved and trembled. Her gray eyes darted around the Tharken cliffs. Her scar appeared even darker because her face was so pale.

“Klara,” I growled. “Look at me.”

Even though she was furious with me, she turned her head to meet my eyes.

“I will not have mercy on you because an unbonded Elthika will not during the choosing,” I said, a fire sparking between us. “You need to be prepared for anything. You might think this was cruel. But believe it or not, I did this because I care about you.”

Her chest was heaving as she glared, but I thought I spied a thread of understanding weave through her expression.

“And you can hate for me this,” I added. “It was always a possibility that you might. But I will take that if it means that you know how to navigate a fall, that you have faith that you can be in control in a situation like that, should it arise. And it will. Yes?”

I tapped on Zaridan’s wing twice, and she began to rise in the air. Bringing us back up to the top of the cliffs.

“What is there to fear, Klara?” I asked her, cupping her face in my palms. She breathed in deeply. “I will always catch you. So there is nothing to fear. I’m trying to make you understand that.”

“And what happens if you’re not there?” she asked through gritted teeth, blinking back her tears with a small glare. That expression made me want to kiss it off her.

“That is what we’re doing here. To prepare you in case I’m not. But I can promise you, on Zaridan, on Muron, that until you have claimed an Elthika of your own, you will never be in danger if you fall. I did this exercise more times than I can count. Zaridan knows these cliffs like they are a part of her. She will never let you fall because I would never allow it. Do you understand?”

A rattled breath escaped her. She was still shaken.

“Because after this, aralye, that exercise that Kyavor had you do this morning, that seems like nothing, doesn’t it?”

A sobbing laugh of disbelief escaped her. She turned her face out of my hands. We’d reached the tops of the cliffs again.

“Just because I laughed does not mean I’ve forgiven you,” she felt the need to inform me.

I straightened. “I understand.”

My hands lowered away from her. And I settled back into the role of her instructor, knowing that it would serve her best if I kept my emotions out of this. If I kept myself as cold and detached as I possibly could, even though she was my wife.

“Again,” I ordered quietly.

She jerked, staring at me.

“What?” she breathed, already shaking her head.

“Again, Klara.”

She stared at me, her shoulders lowering and rising more quickly, familiar fear entering her gaze. I wouldn’t be satisfied until she no longer hesitated. She could be afraid—all riders held fear close—but I wouldn’t be satisfied until she had control over that fear. I knew it would be an impossibility for today, but it was a start.

“Fall. Trust in Zaridan. Trust in me.”

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