Page 13 of The Last of the Dark Lords

I rolled my eyes. She was annoying, but she wasn’t wrong. As a teenager, I’d been too wrapped up in the drama of my parents’ deaths to have interest in any of it. After I came of age, I moved quickly up the ranks of the Archers. I hadn’t wanted to compromise my ability to be a good military leader by getting involved with any of them, but they were the only people I ever saw. There hadn’t been time to hunt for a partner.

All of that added up to, yes, I’d held people at a distance. It wasn’t worth the trouble.

“I’m not going to go and screw some stranger,” I said, “just to have done it.”

“Why not? In my experience, that can be a lot of fun.”

I shook my head. Jelenna viewed sex differently than I did. I didn’t begrudge her that. She should have all the fun times she could want. But if I had sex, my heart would be involved automatically. I understood that about myself, from even the few fleeting moments of kissing a classmate in my youth.

“It’s not for me.”

Jelenna shrugged. A sweet sadness shone in her eyes. “I thought it would make things easier.”

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to agree to the marriage. It’s a lot to ask.”

Jelenna stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. The compassion radiated from her embrace. I leaned into her. After a long moment, she broke the hug, keeping her hands on my shoulders and peering into my eyes.

“You should go up the mountain. To the shrine.”

“Vazzart hasn’t allowed anyone to find his altar in decades,” I said, confused. “No one has had direct contact since before we were born. All we have are those light shows over the reservoir. Has the god ever even spoken to anyone beside the Prime? It’s probably an old wives tale.”

“My grandfather found the shrine, back in the old days, and spoke directly to Vazzart.” Jelenna’s eyes were sharp with certainty. “He wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Even so, no one has managed it in our lifetime.”

Jelenna grabbed my hand and squeezed.

“Please try. If Vazzart could guide you, maybe the decision wouldn’t be so hard.”

***

It took me two days. Two days of sleepwalking through my duties as Commander. Two days of my thoughts going in circles. I kept sleeping in the hammock. Being enveloped in the canopy of trees calmed the unease that coiled like a snake in my chest.

When I woke on the third morning, it was time. I gathered what I needed for the ritual. It was simple: a flask of water from the reservoir, a gold coin, and my knife. The ceremony should be an easy one.

Finding the shrine, on the other hand, would be harder, if Vazzart even allowed it. It had been years since anyone had traveled that far up the mountain. The holy place wasn’t all the way to the summit. That was unreachable, surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs. But it would still be a hard hike, almost up to the treeline.

People said it had always been on the banks of the stream that ran down the mountain, feeding the reservoir, but they could never agree on the exact location. If the route of the stream had shifted significantly over the years, it would make finding it even more difficult.

I headed up a few hours after sunrise, keeping the swift stream in my sight as the path grew steeper and more difficult. The forest thinned with the elevation as I made my way. The mountainside was alive with movement, with chipmunks flitting from tree to tree, hummingbirds drinking from the bluebells, and starlings circling overhead. There was an electricity to it all, as if the mountain was welcoming me into its arms.

Eventually, though, it all grew quiet. The soft murmuration of the water and the gentle movement of small animals through the undergrowth faded to an almost unconscious hum. The trees were sparser, but still the shade from the swaying leaves above my head kept my skin cool.

I didn’t see it at first. Ifeltit, a tremor deep in my gut and spreading out to the rest of my being. At first there was nothing but the stream and the trees. Then a glint of blue and white, a flash of reflection through the brush. I left the bank and walked toward it.

The altar waited in a small clearing, a single block of carved blue quartz with veins of white running through it. Atop the altar sata simple pewter bowl. I moved in closer. The bowl was filled with water, gently bubbling, although there was no physical reason for it to be doing so.

With nervous reverence, I kneeled before the altar. I took out the gold coin and dropped it into the bowl. Upon contact, the water stilled, and the coin tumbled to the bottom, a glinting golden sun on a field of silver. Raising my left hand above the basin, I sliced across the top of it, letting blood drip down and float in tiny pools on the surface of the water.

After a few moments, the red liquid began to wind and turn, swirling into increasingly intricate patterns. I lost myself in the shapes, feeling a strange disconnection from my body and the world, like I was floating through empty space.

I was startled back into reality by the sound of rustling in the nearby brush. An enormous buck entered the clearing. I got up off my knee. Even standing, its head was far above mine, and its thick, muscular neck held up a massive set of antlers.

It approached me with powerful, even steps. It could have easily overpowered me, but I didn’t have an impulse to step back from it. I couldn’t tear myself away from its huge brown eyes. They contained some strange intelligence, some deep understanding.

It closed the distance and bent down, touching its nose to my forehead. There was a flash of cold and then everything changed.

I was underwater. Disoriented, I was carried along by a mighty current, passing by ancient, coral-covered ramparts. I struggled to swim, but the pull was too strong. Nothing I tried would slow me down.

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