Impromptu: An Anthology

The Darkest Lord by Maria Samurin

Once upon a time, a Dark Lord was dying. This would have been a happy occasion—a time for joy and celebration—had there not been Darker Lords waiting to take his place. They'd already begun assembling some distance from the castle, prepared to do battle once the Dark Lord drew his last breath.

Elena, the Dark Lord's only daughter, had a much more pressing reason not to celebrate. It wasn't love for her father—for evil had long since consumed his soul. Nor was it worry over the fate of the world at the hands of a Darker Lord. Elena rarely thought of anything beyond herself, her only parent, and the cold stone walls that surrounded her; she'd never been permitted to step outside them, after all. Thus, as the Dark Lord lay dying, what concerned Elena most was her own fate.

Elena had always expected to one day marry and perhaps see a bigger part of the world—her husband's castle, at the very least, and perhaps even the road that led there. Deciding it was time, she approached her father on his deathbed, asking that he summon her future husband. To Elena's great annoyance, the Dark Lord laughed at the request. It turned out that he'd never bothered to arrange a match for her; he hadn't cared enough to do even that.

The Dark Lord had neither friends nor allies, and he had never allowed others near the castle, thus leaving Elena with no one to turn to. If people had heard of her birth sixteen years prior—which she highly doubted—they likely thought her long dead. That, upon further consideration, was more of a boon than curse. She needn't worry that the Darker Lord would wish her dead alongside her father—only that he'd cast her out with nothing but the clothes on her back.

It seemed, or so Elena surmised, that the best course of action was to leave before a worse fate befell her. With that in mind, Elena scoured the castle for items to take on her journey. She relied on her knowledge from the books she'd read over the years, and she was grateful that the Dark Lord had taught her the skill. He'd concerned himself with her education once, hoping that she would follow in his footsteps. Now, over a decade since he'd lost interest, Elena had read every book in the castle library—some more than once.

After giving it much thought, Elena chose to store her meager possessions in her pockets rather than in a satchel. She knew of thieves and worried that a bag would attract undue attention. She'd also read of jewels and coin, but of course owned neither. Thus, each day, as she visited her dying father, she carefully snuck something of value from the Dark Lord's chamber: a gold coin here or a ruby there. She also packed some bread, cheese, and a flask of water, thinking that it would be wise to eat and drink on her journey. As an afterthought, she pocketed her old lesson book as well. It had been some time since she'd studied it, and she did not wish to forget something important.

On the morning that the Dark Lord drew his last breath, Elena said her goodbyes and set foot outside the castle. She'd expected to leave at a brisk pace, but reality held her frozen on the front steps. She was unnerved by the wind and how different it felt outside. While the castle windows often let in a draft, never had she endured one as strong as she did now. It grazed her cheeks one moment and threw her hair in her face the next. The same held true for her skirts, which got tossed every which way. All this, Elena would not have minded, if the wind did not have a distinct chill to it. Even wearing her thick cloak, she could not suppress a shiver.

Elena thought that perhaps it should not be windy outside—just as it had never been within the castle—and set off into the distance. She walked down the cobbled path that led from the castle, through the gate, and past the stone fence. She continued thus for several minutes, until the path turned from stone to dirt.

Elena took a tentative step into the sticky mud and paused. It had rained that morning as well as the night before—nature's cry at the demise of the Dark Lord—and had only stopped seconds prior to Elena's departure: she would not have enjoyed walking through the rain, after all. Nor did she enjoy entering the canopy of trees, she realized, for they dripped water on her head and soaked her clothes. She was quite sure she'd rather her clothes were dry and that the dripping cease at once. Likewise, she did not much enjoy the mud, and decided that she'd prefer if the path was paved to ease her journey. If only she'd known that the effects of rain were so long‑lasting, but how could she have when she'd never before set foot outside?

Elena continued on, but her walk was not fated to last long. She'd stuck to the path for less than an hour, and was just starting to tire, when the forest opened up into a clearing. It was then that Elena unwittingly found herself in the midst of the Darker Lords.

By the looks of the contenders, some lords were somewhat darker than others. Many did not dress the part and wore colourful tunics or fancy hats—a testimony to their inexperience. A few were simply too pretty, which was a shame, since a Dark Lord's aim in life was to incite fear in his enemies. Of course, Elena knew that she was rather uneducated on the whole matter of Dark Lords and Darker Lords. Still, she was rather sure that the whole group was an embarrassment to the title.

Something had to be done. The Darker Lords needed thunder and lightning for their epic battle—not sunshine and chirping birds. Likewise, it was essential that they wear cloaks befitting Dark Lords, so that they'd at least look the part—a menacing bunch, rather than a gathering of clowns and vagabonds. Decision made, Elena waved an arm, pleased at the new scene that unfolded before her.

Unfortunately, and to Elena's great mortification, the majority of the Darker Lords turned out to be cowards. The moment that these impostors were faced with her meager display of magic—from the pages of her childhood lesson book, no less—they fell to their knees and prostrated themselves before her. Elena decided it was best that she end their miserable existence so they wouldn't have to live with the shame of it.

Screams filled the air and the Darker Lords scattered, until only one remained. He was a creature that Elena's late father would have been proud of. His tall, thin body was wrapped in a dark, billowing cloak. He smiled a frightening grimace, which stretched his pockmarked skin and revealed yellowed, rotting teeth. Elena felt rather comforted, for he reminded her of her parent.

The Darker Lord raised an arm and pointed one claw‑like finger at the young girl. His order to bow reverberated through the silent clearing, and he prepared to cast a magnificent spell. Elena nodded in approval and was about to obey when the Darker Lord's magic enveloped her. It forced her to her knees, which would have been fine were it not for the newly cobbled path that she had willed for her journey. In hindsight, she supposed that she should have left nature alone and walked through the mud, wind, and rain; since she hadn't, when she came crashing down, bone hit stone. Unable to avoid bloodying her knees or tearing her frock, Elena lashed out in anger.

Within seconds, the Darker Lord was on his knees. Elena did not even have time to will him there. The Darker Lord had been struck by a bolt of lightning and was now sizzling—much like a dying ember in the castle's fireplace. With a flick of her wrist, the flame fizzled out. The light in the Darker Lord's eyes followed and he was no more.

Elena stood. She fixed her frock, healed her scraped knees, and looked around. The Darker Lords had been nothing more than an annoyance—an embarrassment to their predecessors. They were also rather unlikely to evict her from the castle, given that those not presently deceased had run like cowards. Perhaps, if one returned from the dead, but Elena rather doubted that any had the skill.

It was getting quite late, near dinner time, so Elena decided to turn back. She preferred to eat a hot meal in the castle's kitchen and spend the night in her own bed. She could always set out again in the morning.