Page 58 of The Horde King of Shadow

I couldn’t help but think that she would’velovedriding on the back of an Elthika. Because what could feel more freeing than that?

“Do I go again, or is it your turn?” I asked Sammenth.

She was staring at me before a wide grin split across her face, a laugh following. She’d had a few goblets of wine, her cheeks dark in color.

“You go again, I insist,” she replied. She presented me with another dagger, pulled from her belt, the weight nearly identical to the first. When I looked down, I saw the Elthika carved into the hilt had blue gemstone eyes, and I wondered if the first dagger had been Ryena’s. Twin daggers for the sisters. A gift?

When I let her dagger fly, I was a hair off the very center but still within the boundaries.

“I changed my mind,” came one of the rider’s voices. “I’ll bet on theSorrina.”

By the end of the competition, I’d run through all the opponents, even Feranos, who’d nearly beaten me at the very end. My arm was sore, however, the muscles still protesting from flying to reach the Arsadia. I was pleasantly buzzed, flushed with wine, since I had to take a drink with each new opponent.

Sammenth and Ryena were sitting together on the ground, the younger sister leaning her head on the healer’s shoulder. I was perched in a stool, which had been procured for me. The dress I was wearing—another that was a similar style to the one Sarkin had ripped off me earlier—was comfortable and loose. Perfect for the warmer evening, considering the wind was blowing the waterfall mist in the opposite direction of the horde.

A small portion of the group had trickled away—including Feranos, who was speaking with Sarkin—though a large portion of the novice riders remained. A few older Karag were lingering on the outskirts of the group under the pretense of offering usfood, though they hovered close, listening to our conversation with barely concealed interest.

I was being interrogated. A stream of rapid-fire questions from the Karag riders.

Where did you learn to throw like that?

When I’d lived on the wildlands in the horde of Rath Drokka…my great-uncle’s horde.

What was it like living in a horde?

Perfectly simple, though many times I’d wished to stay rooted in one place.

Is it true that Dothik is made of gold?

No. Only the statues.

What happened with the red fog?Is it true that the heartstones defeated it?

It was then I realized that the Karag knew much, much more about the Dakkari and our history then we’d ever thought possible. They knew our currency, our language, even theVorakkarof our history.

How long had they’d been watching us? Studying us? Because I was beginning to realize it had been for much longer than when the first Elthika had been spotted along the coast of the West Lands. Perhaps that had been the first time the Karag hadwantedus to know that they watched us.

With that thought, I looked over my shoulder at Sarkin. He was still speaking with Feranos and another older Karag male that I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t help but think he looked more relaxed than he had earlier. Perhaps it had just been me that set him on edge. He even smiled at something the older male said, inclining his head, as he sipped from his silver goblet of wine.

Slowly, the interrogation tapered off, the novice riders starting up a new game of daggers, leaving just Sammenth, Ryena, and myself.

And I finally found the time I needed to ask the questions that had been burning in me for days.

“How is it that the Dakkari came to be here?” I asked both of them. “When? All this time, we never knew about the Karag. But you knew about us all along, didn’t you?”

I had my own theory. Well-formed from things my mother had said over the years, pieced together shortly after I’d received news of her death. No one had ever believed me. Worse yet, no one had ever believedher…except me. My research in the archives had proven fruitless except for one bundle of old journal entries I’d uncovered one day. A Dakkari talking about sea travel, of navigating beyond the Teru Gulch. He’d gone on about the importance of littering the land with “seeds” to strengthen us.

No one knew how the entries had come to be placed within the archives because there was no record of them. Even Sora had rolled her eyes when she’d read them, tossing them back to me, telling me I’d have to be a fool to believe any of it. Sora had believed the author to be “half-mad.”

Then again, many had considered my ancestor, Davik of Rath Drokka, to be half-mad, when in reality, he’d had a gift of Kakkari. So I hadn’t placed much value in Sora’s dismissal.

“Hundreds of years ago,” Sammenth said, shrugging her shoulder as she raised her head. “Three hordes of them landed on the south coast during the age of Krovag.”

“Krovag?” I asked. My heart leapt.Threehordes? My theories were true.

“Oh, one of the ancients,” Sammenth added, seeing my confusion. “We keep track of our centuries by which Elthika is in power. Krovag was a great leader, though he passed the title on when his rider died of old age. He thought it time to give his rule to a new bloodline.”

Endless questions sprouted. The Karag spoke of the Elthika like they were a kingdom themselves, with laws, a governing body, and a society of their own.

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