Page 17 of Chained Knight

“He will find it.” Jazarl sounded certain. “How bad, Alzar?”

“A mere scratch,” came the answer. “Have no fear, I will not slow our flight. But how is our lady?”

Silence. Ari realized they were waiting for her to say something else. Jazarl leaned close, peering at her face; on her other side Majan was tense, holding her upright, and the faint sense of living warmth from both men was comforting even if she had no idea what the blazing blue fuck, as they used to say in college.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.Please don’t leave me behind. Not with those things in the woods. The hideous way they moved, that dribble of oily red fluid… no.

Nope. She wanted zero-none ofthat, another aphorism from her youth.

“To the Grey Lady,” Jazarl sounded relieved. “Her joy will be hardly less thanhisat seeing you, my lady. Can you walk? If not, we will?—”

“I can.” Ari hoped she wasn’t lying. The idea that someone in this weird place would be happy to see her was intensely ridiculous, but if these guys were heading away from the big golden robots she was more than happy to tag along. “Just point me in the right direction.”

A soft laugh. “By silver,” Sarle said, quietly. “I did not believe, and yet.”

“Let us not linger.” Majan was now all business. Though his grasp gentled further he still didn’t let go of Ari’s arm, which she was distinctly grateful for. “Dare we risk the Road?”

“Not yet.” Jazarl’s hand fastened on her other arm again, and he took a cautious step; Ari did her best to move with him. “Very good, my lady. And the rest of you, keep hand to hilt. The night is young, and the Moon has returned.”

12

ARISEN ONCE MORE

Staggering in darknessbetween two tall armed men was another new experience. Ari was just glad no more of those huge robot-things were in view, and all she had to worry about was putting one foot in front of the other. The thought that she was being dragged along by a quartet of male strangers, with no idea of destination or route, paled beside the relief of still being alive—not to mention having a working hypothesis about this place and its inhabitants.

She was too busy staying upright and conscious to spend many brain-cycles on it, but the very presence in the back of her mind was reassuring.

Unless they happened across something that upended the theory, of course.

The group walked swiftly for a long while, until a silvery smear widened before them, tree trunks transformed into vertical black bars fencing soft light. The men veered slightly toward this new illumination. It was a familiar glow, and when they reached the clearing she was almost happy to see a few scattered pearl-cabbages, their big soft-furred leaves cuppingglobes which brightened as the group passed, sending up streams of that delicious, powdery mimosa-tree smell.

“By the Moon,” one of the men—it sounded like Sarle—said in a hushed, wondering whisper.

Nestled in the center of the clearing, a mirror-smooth pond reflected more pale light. It couldn’t be the one Ari had started at—this pool was larger, its rim starred with smooth white stones at irregular intervals. Her head tipped back, and she gazed at the sky.

There were stars, too. But hanging among them was a white plate, pearly and perfect. The ripe silver disc held no scars, no craters or gouges; stainless-bright, it gazed somberly at the forest below.

“Oh, God,” she said, a long despairing breath. Perhaps she just had to be at her wit’s end before she could speak in English—or they had no approximate word forGodhere.

Dante Alighieri had put a frozen lake and all sorts of other fun stuff in hisInferno. If this was her own personal hell, why was it so… well, sopretty? No, the hellfire and brimstone theory didn’t wash. Even a Jungian-coded breakdown or swelling hematoma pressing on her grey matter didn’t cover this.

Were all of her new companions native, or had they ‘arrived’ from elsewhere? If so…

The guys were suddenly all business. Jazarl let go of her arm and approached the water cautiously. He sniffed, catlike again. “I cannot tell. Sarle?”

“Is it my turn?” The stocky brunet approached the pool and bent, thrusting his hand quickly into the liquid before yanking free with a muffled splash. Ripples spread, dying almost immediately as if the water was heavier than it should be. He sniffed deeply, grimaced, and his nose wrinkled as he straightened. “I would not, my friend. It burns, and thenaryinare scarce.”

The word translated intopearlflower. Ari swayed; Majan’s grip tightened.

“I’m fine,” she said, and his hand fell reluctantly away. “Is something wrong with the water?”

“’Tis tainted.” Jazarl sighed. “Were it not, we could fill our flasks. The flowers have not been seen in a long while and the Moon is returned; soon enough this place will be hallowed. But we cannot linger.”

“Let her try.” Alzarien had turned, intently watching the woods they’d just left; Ari had a horrible suspicion of why. His left sleeve flopped, a rough bandage knotted around his arm, and he was pale even in this ghostly light. “It does little harm.”

Try what?But Ari suspected what had to happen next. Once she ruled out the impossible, the thing remaining—even if absolutely bonkers—had to be treated as fact.

Or at least, tested.

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