Page 22 of Chained Knight

“Night comes,” Majan said, without turning. “Are we making camp so our lady may rest, or continuing onward? We may reach Gesthel by sunhigh day after tomorrow, if we do not linger.”

“We move.” Jazarl said. “My lady, we will not abandon you. Should you falter we will carry you, and ask forgiveness later. Majan, Sarle, you will be our lady’s close-guard for now. Alzarien, give Darjeth a fresh quiver; his is almost empty. Take heart, my friends. Ifheis free, all else will follow.”

At least she’d found out they weren’t going to let her go, though that didn’t answer the question of why on earth—or wherever this was—the Golden robot-things would be after her specifically.

She had the distinct idea she wouldn’t like the answer, whenever it happened to trundle ’round the mountain. So Ari put on a facsimile of an accommodating smile, and tried to think of what to do next.

Unfortunately, absolutely nothing sprang to mind.

14

FINDING NO REST

A haze spreadas the huge, eerie red sun sank. Clouds thickened, pink deepening through maroon into violet and royal purple; the breeze sharpened, heavy with the good green scent of petrichor. Jazarl called halts more frequently, usually after a worried glance in Ari’s direction; she was doing her best to keep up, but suspected it really didn’t matter.

Inadequacy was her natural state, as Wanda Lee so often pointed out.

Had she found her son’s body and called the cops? Ari’s heart gave a terrible twinge, imagining an old woman’s grief. For all her venom and nastiness, Wanda loved her child. Maybe Earl really did deep down as well, it was hard to tell.

The first few drops pattered on the road, small puffs of dust rising as they hit. “Rain,” Darjeth muttered grimly. “Of course.”

Ari had to suppress a weary smile. It was exactly what she’d been thinking, with a side order of wondering if a storm—or even a shower—would send her back to the normal world. Was this fairyland, a different planet reached through some kind of temporary wormhole, an alternate dimension?

She decided all three pretty much amounted to the same thing. What mattered was the theory holding up; she’d really been thrownsomewhere else, and having that settled was so comforting the decision turned her knees to overcooked pasta at regular intervals.

Relief could be indistinguishable from terror, given enough intensity.

The trees crowded even closer here, if that were possible. Jazarl turned aside and plunged into undergrowth; he had a genius for finding hidden thickets which could nevertheless be used to keep a watch on the wide paved strip. This time was no different, and the guys spread out, clearly glad for a rest break.

Ari stood awkwardly in the center of their ring, breathing deeply and trying not to sway. Fan-shaped leaves moved in masses overhead, and she heard a low rumble.

Thunder. If a storm popped her back home, would she wake up half-buried in landslide, or on the side of the road with the crippled Oldsmobile? Would she surface in a jail cell? A hospital bed?

“If we had equines we could already be there.” Alzarien leaned hipshot against a tree, his hat pulled low and his eyes half-closed in the brim’s shadow. Broad-shouldered and long-legged, he could have been modeling for a book cover.

“Oh, aye, and if we had wings we would never stumble.” But Darjeth smiled, the phrase clearly a proverb and sarcasm edging it in friendly instead of spiteful fashion. “Dare we risk a fire? ’Tis cheersome, and our lady looks near to foundering.”

I’m fine. But Ari couldn’t say it. When they weren’t moving she needed all her concentration for not sinking into a heap. She had to stay braced for a sudden jolt back into a world she understood, and that required carefully shepherding what little energy she had at the moment. Anticipation was almost worse than a beating.

Almost.

“Here.” Jazarl uncapped his canteen, and his smile was no doubt meant to be encouraging. “Take a little more, my lady. ’Tis not the greater drink, but still is wondrous helpful.”

Greater drink. Underdark. Bright King.She needed a thesaurus and a couple dictionaries to deal with all this; learning solely by context was exhausting. Which brought up another interesting point—were these people literate? “I’m all right,” Ari tried to say, but the words slurred.

He thrust the canteen into her hands, so she had to at least take a sip. A few mouthfuls did actually help; she hadn’t realized she was so thirsty.

“No flame so close to the Road,” Majan weighed in. “Perhaps we should build a bower for our lady, and pass a night on guard.”

Another roil of thunder walked across the sky. Ari tried to suppress a shudder, and failed miserably.

“The storm is far off.” Jazarl really was trying to be helpful. He looked more anxious by the minute. “We have no mantle for you, but the trees are thick and will keep the worst of the rain at bay.”

“I’m fine,” Ari insisted. The translator turned it intoI am well enough, and she wondered what they thought of her accent. They were clearly too polite to tell her if she sounded like a backwoods hick.

“Hist.” Sarle gazed through moving branches, his shoulders stiffening. “I see a gleam in the distance, and do not think it friendly.”

Now Ari heard something else—a rolling of hooves, a different timbre than thunder. “That’s what I heard before,” she whispered, and her fingers were suddenly clumsy on the canteen’s top. Chill air brushed her flushed cheeks, stirring her hair.

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