The Dream Thief by H.M.Clarke

Author:H.M.Clarke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sword Sorcery magic, Psychics magicians telepathic, Dark Fantasy Novel, Dragons monsters wizards, Epic Fantasy Series, coming of age quest, Young adult
Publisher: H.M. Clarke
Published: 2016-11-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Visions

KALENA THREW ANOTHER log on the fire and watched as sparks erupted from the coals to drift away in the smoke. Night on the plains had come quickly and with it followed the cold whose chill was legendary among the Suenese.

Pulling the sheepskin coat tighter around her, Kalena then held her gloved hands out to the flames. The sounds of the clanking of cooking pots and of laughter and talk surrounded Kalena and her fire. The Kalarthri camp was pitched a distance downwind from the Freeman Camp under the pretext that the smell of the Kalar and Hatar disturbed their horses. But Kalena knew that the Justicars had commanded that the human and feathered mind readers be set apart from them.

They probably were worried in case the Kalar could somehow read their thoughts. There was only one Kalar that she knew of who could do that, and she was not going to risk it.

Kalena looked up into the night and followed the arc of the stars as they trailed across the sky. They looked so beautiful and distant, just like her Flight Commander.

‘By The One, it’s cold tonight,’ Kalena thought to her companion who rested with the other Hatar at the far end of their camp. They had found a large span of exposed rock and were now sprawled out over it, slowly absorbing the radiant heat.

‘You are welcome to spend the night under my wing. My feathers are nice and warm now,’ Adhamh offered.

‘I’ll decline your offer for the time being Adhamh,’ Kalena replied, her eyes still on the stars.

‘I see you’re hoping for a better one.’ He replied.

Kalena let herself smile. ‘Maybe.’

Warmth had slowly returned to her bones so Kalena stepped back from the fire and sat down on her Hatar saddle. Saddles belonging to Harada and the Wing Lieutenants circled the rest of the large fire. Some paces behind each saddle loomed the drab canvas of small tents. There was just enough room in them to stash your gear and sleep. And if you stood taller than Kalena, then you would have to duck to avoid scraping your head against the rough canvas roof.

Through the flames, Kalena could see Lunman wrap a cloth about the handle of a cooking pot and then remove it from the coals. It was his turn to look after dinner and from the smell, it was stew yet again. Kalena grimaced. She was already heartily sick of stew and this was only their second night in camp. Lunman stood over the pot and gave it a final stir with a ladle.

“Come and get it,” Lunman shouted as he spooned a ladle full of the stew into his wooden bowl. He then moved away to his own saddle to eat.

Out of the darkness came the other Wing Lieutenants, their bowls already in hand and began to crowd around the blackened pot.

The sound of the swish of canvas from behind Kalena made her turn her head to see Harada closing the entry flap of his tent.

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