Page 49 of Chained Knight

Her other hand dangled, the Cup much heavier now, its wood pulsing-alive. Or maybe that was Ari’s imagination, although why she should worry about more fantasizing with all this going on was beyond her. The spectacle was a nightmare even Bosch or Goya would have had a hard time capturing; any of the Surrealists would have raced to get the vision down before it faded. Maybe Frazetta or Jeffrey Catherine Jones could do it justice; Ari wondered if fantasy illustrators ever caught glimpses of this place and simply transcribed the vistas wholesale.

Undergrowth petered out in long scraggles; bare black earth sloped down to meet tiny questing waves. Dirt gave under her slippers, dry and crumbling; while the magical drinks might save her from throwing up properly, the blocking effect only made nausea worse.

Moonlight soaked the Mere’s surface, small bubbles and curls of steam rising where bright reflection touched. The fluid was a different red than the tired, swollen sun, and Ari wondered why this mad planet’s nightly satellite bore no pockmarks. Was there a shortage of comets or space debris in certain corners of the universe?

The shivers had Ari again, hard and fast. The smell was just plain awful, for all it was fresh instead of rotting. Was the earth itself bleeding? Or was this a pocket dimension, no real planetary laws to obey despite each day’s apparent rising and setting?

Silence, except for kitten-playful ripples mouthing bare blasted shore and the bubbling farther out where moonlight touched, cool light stirring the surface. The Carcanet was almost scorching now; the Cup gave a little twitch, an impatient animal wanting attention.

The chained man said nothing. Maybe he was disappointed, or perhaps he liked scaring her? Had any other poor idiots fallen into this horrible, violent, lovely place and been brought here to fail?

Leshelivedin this awful forest. No wonder she was so happy to see other people; Ari tried to imagine sleeping in toxic bushes, smelling this coppery reek, knowing that somewhere in the woods lurked a lake of…

Oh, God. “I can’t,” she said, miserably aware of the words trembling. Being forced over a bridge made of alien dinosaur bones was one thing, fine, okay. But this… “I won’t. Please. Don’t make me go near that.”

I really am a coward.

“You must bring the Cup to the Mere.” The chained man stared at the not-water, and his gauntlet tightened on her hand. Not enough to hurt, certainly enough to threaten. “I would not ask, were it unnecessary. I do not enjoy this place as it is, and no doubt you are… unnerved. This is where it happened, after all.”

I really did not need to know that. “Where that guy, that Ternek?—”

He inhaled sharply as if struck, air slipping past his teeth with a hiss.

“I’m sorry.” Ari stepped away, nervously, her arm stretched between them since he wouldn’t let go. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be angry.”

She could occasionally mitigate Mike’s rage. This guy was a far different proposition.

The chained man stood for a few long moments, still staring at the Mere. “Your companions fear me.” A muscle flickered in his cheek. “And well they should. But you? No.”

Sorry, that ship has sailed. Ari let out a shaky breath. “Didshe?”

“At first, yes.” His shoulders slumped, spiked pauldrons moving just a few degrees. Strange, how that was enough to change a large figure’s entire outline, expressing resignation or even sadness. “It took time to… reassure you. I look forward to repeating the act, so many times as necessary. But the Mere must be purified, my lady Ariadne. Please.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Ari tugged against his hold, barely caring if an edge sliced her fingers or wrist. Arterial bleeding would end all this madness in a hot minute or two. “If nothing happens, will you send me home? Or…”

“Home?” Now he looked at her, and his expression seemed honestly baffled. “The Keep is not yet fully cleansed, my lady.”

“No, I mean back. To the… to the mortal world.”How am I even saying this?

“You mean to attempt flight? I suppose I cannot blame you.” Half the chained man’s mouth curled up, a bitter-edged smile. “That was a game we played, as well. Several times.”

I’m tired of games. Ari pulled against his grasp, more firmly this time. Eventually he’d have to release her, or the gauntlet would slice her like deli meat and make everything else about this nonsense academic. “Let go.”

Amazingly, he did. She nearly staggered, and all but cowered when his hand shot out to brace her afresh.

He froze.

Ari drew herself up. “It’s not that I don’t like you.” The old cliché—it’s not you, it’s me, and hoping the guy wouldn’t go off the deep end when you deployed it. “I just… I’m not what you think. I’m just Ari, and you don’t know what happened. What I did.”

Was she really going to confess to murder in front of a man locked in fairytale armor? Jesus and gin.

“Do you think it matters? I have not asked what you suffered in the mortal realm, yet I can guess. And those suppositions are bleak indeed.” He shrugged, armor moving far more fluidly than metal should. “There is time enough to address vengeance for your mistreatment after this is finished. But itmust be done, my lady. Would you like me to beg?”

“I…” If she kept refusing, he would probably drag her shoreward and push her in. Ari shuddered at the thought; it was always fractionally better to approach a horror under her own power than be violently coerced. Her gorge rose. It was difficult to force words past the obstruction. “I just have to take the Cup down there?”

He paused, as if surprised. “I would suggest filling it.”

Oh, God. Was she going to have totouchthat lapping, deadly mess? Of course, and she was wearing white. This place wasn’t content to terrify the shit out of her with ginormous skeletons, horned robots, and ‘restless dead’, it also had toembarrass, like forgetting a tampon the day of an important presentation.

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