Page 36 of Vow of the Shadow King

Everything in my being begs to turn in my saddle, to crane my head, to catch one last glimpse of the slender maiden standing in that doorway. Everything in me urges to yank my morleth’s reins, haul the beast about, and gallop back across the courtyard, right up those great stone steps. To leap from my saddle, catch her in my arms, and crush my lips against hers in a cataclysmic kiss.

Gods on high and deep below! How am I to protect myself from this need? I crave her presence like I crave air in my lungs. My hands burn with the desire to run my fingers through her hair, to glide my palms over the soft curves of her body. My lips and tongue starve for a taste of her sweetness. I long to drink her in, every inch of her. To know her and, in the knowing, to claim her. To make hermine.

But I cannot. I dare not. For it is not my heart alone which is at stake. It is the fate of all Mythanar. Never can I forget it. I must put up every barrier, every shield. And when those threaten to crumble, I must retreat. Put as much distance between us as I can. It is the only way.

I shake my head, focus on the road ahead. The whole company surges into a gallop, moving swiftly and fluidly down through the city, across the bridge, and on to the tunnels and darkness outside Mythanar. Once we’ve left the brilliantlorstlights behind, the morleth are happier, and their riders have an easier time keeping them under control. I’ve brought five of my finest with me on this mission, including Hael. Armor-clad and helmed, they are ready for action. I can only hope there will be no need, and this mission will prove a simple reconnaissance. That we’ll find my misplaced brother, have a quick word with Lord Korh of Hoknath, and be home again bydimness.

Every instinct tells me it won’t be that simple.

I turn and catch Hael’s eye. She urges her morleth up beside mine. It sticks out its long neck and takes a bite out of Knar’s shoulder, ripping away a strip of coarse black fur to reveal the ugly scales beneath. Knar snorts and snaps back, but Hael and I yank their heads and wrestle the beasts into submission. Only then does Hael speak: “What is your plan, my King?”

She’s very stiff, formal. Of course, Hael is always professional when on duty, but I cannot help wondering if we’ve forever lost the easy friendship we once shared, if we’ll ever be able to trust one another again. It seems impossible.

“According to Jot, the riverway is blocked,” I reply with equal rigidity. “We’ll take the old Karthur Channel instead.” Karthur used to be a swift, narrow river wending many miles deep through the Under Realm. Following a stirring three generations ago, it dried up, leaving behind a dry channel. It serves well enough as a highway between Mythanar and Hoknath but is rarely used in favor of the swifter river routes.

“It will be dark,” Hael says. “Korh does not keep the channel lit.”

“We have our ownlorststones. And the morleth will like it.”

Hael cannot argue this fact. She nods. It feels good to have her back at my side, to know I have her support and strength. Despite everything, she’s still the one I trust the most to have my back in a difficult situation. Still, a small part of me wishes I’d left her behind. I would be easier in my mind knowing Faraine was under Hael’s watchful eye. But it’s high time I gave Yok greater responsibilities. The boy has proven his courage if not his good sense. He’s young. Time will season him into a true warrior, like his sister.

Besides, it would be cruel not to bring Hael on this mission. I know what Sul means to her . . . even if, in my personal opinion, she could do much better than that reprobate brother of mine.

After an hour’s hard riding, we come to the mouth of the old channel. It’s much broader but darker than the road we’ve been traveling. Hael gives the command, and my companions and I affixlorststones to our helmets. Then I steer Knar’s head toward the opening. As we draw near, however, he suddenly rolls his flame-ringed eyes, snorts, and stamps his hooves. I urge him again, and he shakes his whole body so hard, my bones rattle inside my armor. “What is it, boy?” I rub his scaly neck. “Do you smell something?”

He stands at the channel entrance, nostrils flared, ears pricked forward. Every muscle in his body is tensed.

“What’s wrong?” Hael asks, driving her own nervous steed up beside mine.

“There’s something in there.” Tentatively, I sniff the air. Then I hiss through my teeth as a familiar sour stench fills my nostrils.“Raog!”

Hael curses. Turning in her saddle, she hastily barks for everyone to don their masks. I’ve already pulled mine out, a long, ugly beak filled with crushedmiraisisblossoms. It fits tight over the lower half of my face, covering both mouth and nose.

“We cannot take the morleth in there,” Hael says, dismounting. Her voice is muffled behind her own mask. “Morleth are mad enough as it is. Rabid morleth are not a problem I’m prepared to deal with.”

I can’t argue. Instead, I motion for my people to dismount. Immediately, the morleth slip out of this dimension, vanishing one after another in puffs of sulfur. Soon my five comrades and I stand at the mouth of the channel. Thelorststones on our helmets cast weird, long-beaked shadows behind us.

“These masks offer only three hours’ worth of protection,” Hael says warily.

“Do you want to go back?” I ask.

She does not answer, merely grips the hilt of her sword. I turn to the rest of the brave men and women standing with me. “I cannot predict what lies ahead, either on this road or when we reach Hoknath. If poison has taken the city, we must be prepared for the worst. I will not make any of you continue unless you are prepared to meet whatever lies ahead. If you prefer to return to Mythanar, tell me now.”

The four of them exchange looks. They are my bravest and boldest—Toz, Wrag, Grir, and Lur, seasoned warriors with their share of scars. Captain Toz’s small eyes spark beneath the stone ledge of his brow. “Let’s go find theguthakugprince,” he growls.

I answer with a grim grin, then step forward. I intend to lead the way, but Hael insists on taking the fore, and I don’t argue with her. I’ve never traveled this winding road on foot before, and I’m unused to such complete darkness. There are no naturallorststones in this stretch of cavern, and none have been set in place to light the way. Our own small lights gleam feebly against the weight of impenetrable black. Trolde though I am, I find it singularly oppressive. It isn’t long before I wish I’d chosen a different route.

My light catches on something bright. It flickers in the tail of my eye, drawing my head sharply to the right. I turn. Blink. Shake my head and look again. The light catches on a twinkling necklace of delicate gems, strung around the neck of a woman. A woman whose torso lies at a strange angle among the stones on the side of the road. A woman whose lower half is entirely missing.

My blood turns to ice.

“Look, my King,” Hael says, close to my elbow. She points.

I angle mylorstlight to reveal another corpse. Then another and another. So many corpses. Torn apart. Strewn across the dry riverbed.“Morar-juk!”The words escape my lips in a little puff of air as my lungs constrict inside my chest.

“What happened to them?” Lur’s voice is high and a little too loud in this terrible black stillness. “What did this?”

None of us can answer. So we continue silently through the horror until we come upon another body, different from the rest. A low, four-legged, blind monster, with a bone-plated head and massive, rock-tearing claws.

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