Page 30 of The Last of the Dark Lords

The blanket flopped to the side, and the woman stood up. Her face was stained with ash and tears. She held a tiny infant in her arms. It wasn’t more than two months old.

"There’s something wrong with her. She’s breathing, but…" The woman held out her child to me. I took her into my arms. I held her awkwardly, not knowing how to help. The baby let out a faint cough, as if that was all she could muster.

"I'm going to take her to the priest,” I said. “He'll help her."

She gave me a quick nod, and I took off down the stairs. Cyrus had gotten on his feet and was heading out the front door. He saw me and stepped aside.

"Take her to Manod and meet me at the other cabin."

I made my way out to the priest as fast as I could. Manod had managed to get the collapsed man up on his feet. Raffin, his name was. I held the infant out, and the old priest took her into his arms with a careful intensity.

"She'll be fine, Skye. Go to Cyrus." His eyes filled with worry, matching my own.

"What's happening to him?" I asked.

Manod cradled the infant, checking her for injuries as he spoke. "The powers of an artifact always come at a cost. The cost is greater if the bearer uses it for something outside its intended use. The Crown of Seeing was made for scrying and augury, but it was also a gift of the God of Fire and Metal. Through the connection to him, Cyrus can command the flames, but the price is great. He pulls vitality from you to help him weather it.”

I shook my head in confusion. “How?”

“The artifact can sense your betrothal. The connection that formed because of it, new and faint though it is, is enough for Cyrus to channel a small amount of energy from you."

My eyes widened. “But we’re not married. How is there any kind of bond between us?"

"I sensed it when you were injured, the thinnest of strands formed from fear and care and your promise." Manod glanced over at the far cabin, which still had smoke pouring from it. "Go to him, please. He's as stubborn as you. He'll force his way into the last cabin alone.”

With that, I was off, sprinting over to the rough structure, where Cyrus and the two brawny men stood at the front door. The house itself was run down, probably in the worst shape of any of them. I slipped in next to him.

"What do you need?" I asked. He turned back to me. There was a vulnerability in his face that I'd not witnessed before in him. He was tired, yes, but more than that I could sense an undercurrent of fear.

"Take my hand. The door is blocked with debris. I'll need to clear it. There's no time to dig the old woman out."

"Can you do that? Move the fallen beams?"

"I can. If they’re burning, I should have some control over them. But I can’t do it alone." The uncertainty in his eyes gave the lie to his confident words. I desperately wanted to take his doubt away.

I slipped my hand into his, trying not to think too hard about how right it felt. A watery smile appeared on his face. Then he squeezed.

The world went white. I held on to my consciousness through sheer force of will. This time, I couldfeelthe energy drain from my body. He was taking more than he had before. Through the blurriness in my eyes, I could see him, tall and shaking, the crown's bright light eclipsing the blaze in front of us.

The door split open with a loud crack, parting down the middle and pushing through the debris on the other side. The two burly soldiers stepped forward, but Cyrus stopped them.

"Wait. The flames are too intense for you to go inside." Cyrus steadied himself against me, his breath fluttering against my neck. He straightened, squeezing my hand once more.

Through the debris, I saw her. A gray bundle that had to be the old woman, unmoving against the far wall.

The fire burst with blue-white intensity, and my stomach dropped. Cyrus shook, and I trembled with him. My knees wobbled with the loss of vitality.

In a flash, the flames died, and the two soldiers moved around us and rushed into the damaged cabin. I couldn't move, I could barely stay on my feet. I was weak, but that wasn’t the worst of it. An intense pain ran through my muscles as I attempted to keep upright. Cyrus pulled on my hand, and then crashed into me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders as he lost control.

It was too much. The pain, the weight of his body, my own fatigue. I couldn’t hold on.

As I lost consciousness, Cyrus whispered in my ear, his voice ragged from inhaling smoke.

"I'm sorry, love."

Chapter 9

At first there were only shapes and patterns, complex and beautiful, filling my field of vision. Intricate red and gold embroidered fabric was all around me, covering me and enveloping me. It was a bedspread of some kind, but more luxurious than anything I'd ever had in Greatfalls. I slowly grew aware of my surroundings. The fabrics felt lovely against my skin: the pillows, the blanket, everything was incredibly soft.

---