Page 18 of The Last of the Dark Lords

After a moment, she found it and handed it over - a small burlap bundle tied with twine. I took one end of the rough string in my hand and tugged on it, unraveling the knot and allowing the burlap to fold open.

Inside were two items: a small silver dagger with a sapphire in its pommel and a note. I eyed the dagger for a moment. If this was the artifact, I would be carrying an instrument of Vazzart with me, one of the few people alive to do so. Maybe the only one who wasn’t the current Prime.

Instead of touching the dagger, I picked up the note and unfolded it. It was covered in Grandmother’s flowing script. I was flooded with feelings of warmth and a deep sadness. She was the person that loved me most in all the world, and I didn’t know when I might see her again.

My Skye,

I send with you the instrument of Vazzart’s vengeance, and of our liberation. When the time comes, circle the blade of the dagger three times around the crown. The strands of connection between the crown and the Dark Lord will then become visible. You must cut them.

I never thought a time would come when Ashfuror would ask that the old treaties be fulfilled. If I had, I would have prepared you better for this. I hope you will forgive me.

I pray to Vazzart that we will be together again.

You have all of my love,

Your grandmother

I sat on the floor of the tent, reading the note again and then again once more. After a few minutes, Jelenna rested her hand on my arm in a gesture of comfort.

“What will happen when all of this is over?” I couldn’t keep the tremor from my voice as I spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“To us. And to Greatfalls. Will we be killed in retribution? Will we escape? Will Cyrus use whatever power remains in him to attack our home?”

“I don’t know.” I winced at Jelenna’s words. I craved certainty, but there was none to be had. “I don’t, but I know this. We have a duty to perform. We’ll worry about what comes after when we arrive there.”

She winked at me. “Besides, you and I always come out the other side.”

I wasn’t certain of that. Everything had changed. Rather than reply, I picked up the dagger, weighing it in my palm. Strange that something so small could topple a Lord of Fyr. I wrapped the knife back up and placed it gingerly back in my bag.

Jelenna watched me for a long moment. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

I lay on the hard, dry ground, listening to the sounds of night as Jelenna’s breath slowed beside me. In the solitude of the twilight, I was left alone with my uncertainty. The sensation was alien to me and uncomfortable. I understood my role. I was to serve my people. But doing so would require me to feign a relationship with the Dark Lord of Ashfuror, on a deep enough level that he wouldn’t feel my deception through our bond. I’d never done anything like that before. I had no romantic experience to speak of, and I’d never been a skillful liar.

But if I had the chance to weaken the Dark Lord’s hold on Fyr and keep Greatfalls safe, I had to take it.

Chapter 6

After an uneasy sleep, the morning came, and I woke with a sense of resolve. I couldn’t let my anger and frustration at Cyrus keep me from my task. I would have to, as Manod had said, “get to know him.”

We rode out as the rising sun crested the horizon, painting the plains with bright orange-yellow streaks. Once again I sat atop Blaze, with Cyrus and Manod to my right, and Jelenna to my left.

After I mounted my horse, I stole a glance at Cyrus. He appeared far too tired for a man who had slept through the night. Maybe he’d been as restless as I had. When he saw me, he called out “good morning, sunshine” in a sleepy voice. I think he’d intended it to be sarcastic, but in his exhaustion it came out sincere.

I laughed, disarmed for a moment, and then immediately stifled my response. This man was dangerous, and I needed to stay on my guard.

“It's a two week ride to Ashfuror,” Cyrus said. “Come on, wouldn’t want you to be late to your own wedding.”

With that it was gone. His wry tone and forced nonchalance snapped back into place like the door of a cage. I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t trust him either. He took off, not looking back to see if I followed.

Little by little, as we rode, signs of life began to appear. First we came across wheel tracks in the dirt. Someone had been by with a crude wagon, probably a farmer. Then pieces of wooden fencing that had clearly been repaired, if not recently, at least within the last year. Then there was the simple farmhouse and a barn that had been freshly whitewashed.

On the front porch, an elderly woman in a blue checked dress sat in a crude rocking chair. Cyrus whistled, and the company of soldiers came to a stop. He guided his mount up the path to the house, and Manod gestured for us to follow.

“How goes it, mother?” Cyrus swung down off his horse and stepped up onto the ancient boards of the porch. Wary, I dismounted but kept some distance from the Dark Lord and his subject.

“Oh, you know how it is, young man. The drought has taken the wheat and the corn. There are still a few acres of greens and rhubarb hanging on. My son is out tending to them now. Who knows how long they’ll last? The livestock’s all gone, other than a cranky rooster and about a dozen hens.”

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