Page 32 of Marked By the Dark Lord
“Here, dry off,” one of them grunted, tossing something at me.
I grabbed it, somehow managing to actually catch it. When I held it up, the piece of fabric unraveled to the size of a washcloth. I eyed it while the guards again laughed uproariously, leering at my nudity. The tears added fresh wetness to my cheeks as I patted myself dry as best I could, though I was unable to do anything for my hair.
Clutching my hands to my body, I waited to see what was next.
“Put this on,” one said, and a piece of clothing landed over my head.
Turning away from the minotaurs, I hurriedly donned the boring beige one-piece outfit. It fell loosely around my ankles, and the arms extended past my wrists. I zipped it up, finally feeling somewhat modest.
“What is this all about?” I asked, wishing like hell I knew how to use the magic. What I wouldn’t have given at that moment to rip out the eyeballs of my tormentors.
“You looked and smelled like shit,” one of the guards grunted. “You have to be somewhat presentable for the Court.”
I stared at him. “You’re joking, right? I thought that was just a fucking metaphor.”
The guards looked at each other, then back at me. The soft, grunting laughter that followed was not very promising.
“No metaphor. It’s trial day.”
Despite their assurances, it didn’t truly kick in that they were serious until I was chained up and ushered into a literal courtroom. But that wasn’t the most surprising part.
“Holy fucking shit,” I gasped, stumbling to a stop at the sight before me.
The literaldragoncoiled at the front of the room stared at me with giant yellow-orange eyes that had vertical black slits as long as I was tall. Twin jets of flame burst from each nostril in contempt, and then it turned its attention away.
Under his perch, in giant lettering, was the word “Judge.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” I breathed in disbelief, the minotaurs shuffling me between the rows of seating to a box right up front.
Right next to the dragon, who bared his teeth in some sort of demonic smile.
Most of us just call it The Twisted Court.
My cellmate’s words echoed in my head, suddenly taking on a new meaning as the cruel malice of the room weighed heavily on my shoulders, pushing me into the hard wooden chair, all alone at the front of the room. Hope seemed to be sucked from me in the presence of the massive crimson beast.
Struggling, I turned my gaze to the left, where two rows of ornate, high-backed chairs sat empty, waiting for occupants. The ebony wood and blood-red cushioning did nothing to lift the mood of the oppressive room. If anything, it worsened as I contemplated what sorts of creatures would sitthere.
Time and again, however, my attention returned to the dragon at the front. The judge of that … place.
Despair settled in as all manner of monstrous and demonic creatures filed in to occupy the chairs.
I stiffened in my seat as a particularly large beast with two horns and skin darker than the wood of his chair appeared.
“You!” I shouted angrily, standing up.
The minotaur guards roughly shoved me back into my seat, easily overpowering me.
I sat, glowering at Lord Rokk. He ignored me, instead exchanging pleasant greetings with the dragon, whose name I learned was Dannorax.
Everything was happening so fast. I looked up sharply as a hooved creature clopped up to stand next to me, his lower legs reversed at the knee and covered in fur.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Your counsel,” he spat, clearly unhappy about the fact.
A fire lit in me at his attitude. “Gee, you’re so supportive. I really feel like I have a chance with you defending me.”
The creature looked at me with deep brown eyes full of malice. “You can’t be serious. You have no chance. The only thing left to be decidedhereis how you’ll die. It’s a waste of my time and effort is what it is. You should have just obeyed the damn rules.”
