Page 15 of The Last of the Dark Lords

“Where the hell is their army?” Athard grunted.

“Sshh!” Grandmother didn’t turn as she silenced him, keeping her eyes on the slow and steady gait of the steeds of the Dark Lord.

Fifty feet from us, the procession came to a stop, and the berobed man sprang down from his mount. He was surprisingly agile for an elderly man, balding and sporting a silver beard. The two guards stayed mounted, but kept close as he stepped forward to speak.

“Greetings! I am Manod, priest of Stahkla and ambassador of the Lord of Ashfuror. We have come to fulfill the ancient treaty.”

An ancient treaty? Was there an agreement already in place? Grandmother had said there was precedent, but the priest had implied a settled negotiation. I glanced over at her, but Grandmother’s face betrayed no emotion as she answered him.

“As required, the youngest child of the Family Prime is presented to you. And as the accords also state, the union cannot be forced upon him. The choice is his.”

With that, she turned to face me. “Skye. What is your decision?”

For a moment, my mind froze. I knew the time had come, but I couldn’t find the words.

The old priest cleared his throat, pulling my attention from my grandmother. “If I may?”

She nodded, the smallest flash of guilt crossing her face.

“Seven generations ago this treaty was blessed by both Vazzart and Stahkla.” Manod’s voice was low and soothing, the smooth tones of a practiced speaker, and he exuded a kindness that made me suspicious.

“In the event that either Greatfalls or Ashfuror broke the truce, it could be reinstated with the marriage of the Lord of Ashfuror, or one of his children, to an eligible younger child of the Prime of Greatfalls. Cyrus is the last of the line of the ruling family of Ashfuror and unmarried. In the spring of this year—”

“Can we get on with this?” Athard’s voice dripped with petulant boredom. “We all understand what’s going on here.”

Grandmother cut him off with a gesture, and his face flushed with the indignity of being reprimanded in front of a foreign dignitary.

“What will you choose, my love?” There was compassion in Grandmother’s eyes, and a deep sadness. I had never been away from her. The thought of separation struck a chord of melancholy in me.

But I was also confused. I was somehow a party to a treaty from hundreds of years ago? Why hadn’t I been told?

The Archers of Greatfalls watched from behind me. They had joined my force and put themselves in my care. I had promised myself that I would do my best to protect them. To protect all the people of our city. No matter the circumstance, if this was something I could do, well…I would do it.

“I will wed the Dark Lord of Ashfuror.” The words rushed out of me before I could let my fear stop them.

Behind me, whispers ran through the battalion of Archers. Grandmother wore a look of pride. I had done what my duty required.

“I really prefer simply ‘Lord of Ashfuror.’ The ‘dark’ is something you people added.”

I started at the vaguely familiar voice. The guard off Manod’s right shoulder was the one who had spoken. He swung down, landing softly on his feet, and pulled back the hood on his cloak.

The face that was revealed was pale with piercing green eyes. He radiated a confidence as well as a deep exhaustion that was contradicted by his casual tone.

Atop his head was a circlet of intricately-shaped onyx.

“You!” I felt my eyes go wide at my realization. “You’re the swordsman! The one who fought the zakar!”

“I am. Nice shot, again.” He flashed me a crooked smile. “That cat was quite the giant.”

Something stirred within me at the compliment, an anxious thrill that I immediately tamped down.

“You…you know him?” Grandmother sounded truly surprised for the first time in my memory.

“He showed up when Jelenna and I were swarmed by a pack of rock gories.” I wasn’t sure if I should say the next thing, but it was the truth. “He saved my life.”

“You did the same for me. I’d say we’re even. For the moment.”

The Dark Lord of Ashfuror strode toward me, locking his eyes to mine. His eyes pierced me as if he could read my thoughts. He moved with the same easy grace as he had wielded his sword.He was taller than me, forcing me to crane my neck up as he approached.

---