Chapter 5

When I arrived, Grandmother and my brother were at the front gate, surrounded by her personal guard and a regiment of Archers.

For once in his life, my brother was serious. He stared at me as I walked toward them, an undercurrent of anxiety tempering his typical arrogant expression.

There was no fear on Grandmother's face. She exuded a business-like severity. Her hand rested steady and strong atop her staff of carved hickory. She faced the closed gate. I fell in at her side. The soldiers around us were tense and restless.

I smiled confidently at the Archers. It would put them at ease if I could project a sense of confidence. Several of the younger recruits loosened their stances slightly. Good. It would be a disaster if someone's panic caused them to shoot without provocation.

My grandmother took a deep breath. "Are you ready, Skye?" she asked.

I nodded. "I am."

"Raise the gate!" Grandmother's voice pierced the air, echoing first off the wood of the outer wall and once more off the stone of the dam behind us.

The stewards of the gate reached up and pulled down on thick ropes, and the metal lattice rose to reveal three figures on horses. There was a man in black robes adorned with the orange sigils of Stahkla. The symbols glowed with an unearthly orange light. Two armored guards flanked him, cloaked and hooded.

"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.

"You're even better looking when you're not covered in blood." He regarded me with some intensity, and I suddenly felt shy. "Maybe this won't be so bad."

"What?" This was too much. My mind seized as I scrambled to put together what was happening.

"Sorry. I should have introduced myself. I'm the ‘Dark' Lord of Ashfuror. But since you are to be my husband, you should probably call me Cyrus."

He extended his hand to me. I stared at it, then at him. He was slender, but there were hints of muscle under the black leather armor.

"Not what you were expecting, hmmm?" the Dark Lord — no, Cyrus — asked, a smirk sneaking onto his face.

I shook my head. The fog finally cleared enough for me to understand.

"You are my betrothed?" I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice.

He chuckled, a sound that made my stomach flip. "I'm similarly surprised. I thought I was getting some spoiled nineteen-year-old child of the aristocracy. Instead, you are…"

"I am Skye." I vibrated with annoyance at his condescending arrogance. "I'm twenty-eight, and Commander of the Archers of Greatfalls.

"That explains the muscles. And the lack of wit."

Did this snotty lord just insult me? He might be an accomplished swordsman, but that didn't mean he had decent manners.

"Just because you aren't the gouty weakling I thought you'd be, doesn't mean I can't best you in a fight." My growing anger cleared out any lingering confusion.

"Oh, he's got some fire!" Cyrus smirked at me. My right hand curled into a fist in response. "How uncharacteristic of a follower of Vazzart."

"What do you know of that?" I replied. "I can't imagine you get much exposure to civilized society."

There was a clang from behind him. We both turned to where Manod had his hand across the chest of the other guard, who had a white knuckle grip on his drawn sword.

"Elber, stand down." Cyrus' voice was deep and commanding. I hated how appealing it was.

"My lord, he insulted you!"

"Stand. Down." Cyrus turned back to me, clearly amused. "This is my somewhat befuddled betrothed. He is going to be so much fun. If you are still committed…"

I glared at him. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of backing down, despite his pretty insults.

"It will be your greatest honor to be married to me."

Cyrus let out a low laugh. I ignored the desire it stirred up inside me. Even if he was my intended, I wasn't going to fawn at his feet. Especially if he was going to be such a twit.

"Come. Let's get you to your new home."

The Dark Lord of Ashfuror turned and walked out the gate of Greatfalls, and I followed.

***

The first day was spent riding in silence. I was piqued by meeting the Dark Lord, and the only thing I could think to do was brood. Jelenna rode by my side. I was grateful to her for packing a bag for me in advance, although a little annoyed that she assumed I would be going. She thought she knew me.

Maybe she was right.

At the very least, she knew better than to try and break through my current bad mood. I hoped I was projecting an air of danger and grit, but I couldn't escape the feeling that the Dark Lord's people were laughing at me.

We joined with a platoon of soldiers a league or two outside of Greatfalls. I assumed the rest of the army had already headed back to Ashfuror, but I didn't ask. I didn't speak to anyone as I rode, Jelenna to my left and Cyrus and Manod to my right. The two were having whole conversations with only their eyes, but I didn't care about their opinion of me. I kept my gaze trained on the road ahead of us.

The lands were cracked and dry with drought. We moved at a steady, even pace for many hours, but we never saw another person. All the vegetation was stunted and choked. We passed the ruins of several old farms. None of them had live crops or animals.

I had never been this far away from Greatfalls. My home city had always valued self-sufficiency, and we preferred isolation. My Archers were at their most effective shooting down from the ramparts. We avoided situations where they'd have to go on the offensive.

As we made our way through the dead plains, I was struck with how dire the state of the rest of Fyr must be. My righteous anger drained away, replaced with a feeling of concern for the people of Fyr, and for myself.

Was this the Dark Lord's fault? Had he mismanaged the response to the drought so severely that the land itself was dying?

The stories passed around the old families of Greatfalls painted the dark lords as power-hungry and willing to sacrifice their people for their own conquest. But those were stories about Cyrus' father and grandfather. I had no sense of the man himself, outside of how infuriating could be.

We slowed to a standstill, and Cyrus hopped down from his horse.

"Time to set up camp, pretty."

I bristled at his mocking words, but I kept my face still. I wouldn't let him see the effect he had on me. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

Sliding off of Blaze, I reached into my bags, pulling out a stake and anchoring him to the earth. No trees grew here, and the dirt was still warm from the rays of the now-setting sun.

I glanced around me. Elber, the Dark Lord's personal guard, was helping him to set up a small wedge-shaped tent. I was struck by the easy rapport Cyrus had with the hulking brute. Elber made some remark as he pushed a stake into the ground, and Cyrus laughed. Wait. Did these two already have a relationship? Was I going to be a husband in name only, while Cyrus was off screwing his guard? Or worse, in love with him? I felt a pang of jealousy, which was absolutely absurd. I was on my way to Ashfuror to take his power from him. What did it matter who he slept with?

That thought was followed by a wave of confusion. Would I be expected to sleep next to Cyrus this evening? What would he want of me? Although I had entered into this arrangement willingly, the farther we got from home, the more of a prisoner I became. Within the next day, we would pass the point where I had any knowledge of the land around us. I hated how little power I had. Cyrus held all the cards.

I didn't trust him. The Dark Lords had always brought death and destruction to Greatfalls, and to all the people of Fyr. The history we learned in school was clear, although my education had stopped with the death of his grandfather. I knew almost nothing about his father, other than the fact that he had conquered the other remaining Lords of Fyr. Cyrus had inherited his position as the last of them.

And I was there to betray him. A spark of guilt sprang up in my chest, which I quickly pushed away. It was ridiculous to feel remorseful. I was protecting my family and my home. I was doing what was right.

Still, he was my betrothed. Did he expect me to submit?

Manod, the old priest, must have seen the confusion on my face. He left the small cooking fire he was building and approached me.

"He doesn't expect anything from you, young Skye."

Hearing his words, Jelenna broke from putting up her own tent and took a step toward us. I held up my hand to stop her. She was right to be suspicious, and I didn't trust Manod's apparent kindness, but it didn't make sense for any of them to cause me harm. If something happened to me, all of this would have been for nothing.

"He understands that you don't know each other." The priest's voice was soft but clear. "Although all of us would wish nothing more for Cyrus than to find love in this betrothal, you are strangers."

I nodded, not saying anything, stifling my incredulity. A love match with the Dark Lord of Ashfuror? It was an impossibility. To me, he'd always been a boogeyman, a story to scare children with. At least some of the more fantastical stories had to be false, but the title was a terrifying one. I'd spent my whole life building up the defense of Greatfalls in the eventuality of his attack.

The old man chuckled. "You have many voices warring in your mind. When you're ready, speak to Cyrus. He may be arrogant and sarcastic, but his heart is in the right place. You should get to know your intended."

I didn't answer. I didn't know what I would even say to Cyrus.

Manod smiled and walked away. I watched him go. After a minute, Jelenna cleared her throat.

"A little help?"

I rolled my eyes and went over, helping her stake the corners of the tent despite the fact that it was an obvious cover so that we could speak.

"What did he want?" she said under her breath.

"He told me to talk to, you know, him . Cyrus. The Dark Lord."

"You're going to have to eventually."

I must have made a disbelieving face, because she shook her head. ‘No, no, if you don't connect with him, then we'll never accomplish what we came here to do."

With one motion, she pulled and the tent popped erect and into place. Grabbing the travel bags from the horses, she tossed them into our new shelter. She indicated that I should crawl inside.

After I did, she followed and knelt down, whispering as she searched through her bag. "I have a package from your grandmother."

"Is it…?"

Her lips pressed together in a thin line. It was the artifact. It had to be.

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.