Page 9 of Chained Knight

Her fingertips hovered uncertainly. A sharp clatter floated from above—it sounded like dishes breaking, or a drunken fist through a window.

Ari flinched. She hopped, awkwardly, and her hand closed around cold metal.

She expected to lose grip, fingers torn away as she landed, but the sword tilted as she pulled, its rocky prison giving a slight viscous protest. Her boots hit cobbles again and she staggered backward, unprepared for landing.

The sword followed, accompanied by a grinding rasp. Shining metal slid free of stone like a hot blade through resistant styrofoam; maybe it was just stage-dressing, resin made to look like rock? The tip nearly banged cobbles, so she hopped back again, attempting to avoid slicing her toes.

The blade was heavy, but she didn’t want to drag point or edge. Now that she had hold of the thing, the bright length looked wicked sharp, and one of the quillons touched her wrist, a cat-claw caress. Metal clash-slid behind her—the chained man moving but she couldn’t spare a glance in that direction, too occupied with managing an unwieldy weapon as long as her leg.

“Careful.” A curt, imperative word in that strange rolling language. “I will have to make another, if it harms?—”

I am doing the best I can, sir. “Hold on,” she managed, and was amazed at her own temerity. Men hated repeating themselvesandbeing interrupted; she was storing up no end of trouble for Future Ari.

But he went quiet, probably deciding it was best not to pass up even this halfass help at the moment. Ari hefted the sword, turning so she could attempt keeping both him and the doorways along the rear wall in view. Her head swiveled, checking each direction as if gauging traffic on a busy street while already late for work.

The idea of just tossing the whole shebang in his general direction and hurriedly retreating was incredibly attractive, but that would make a lot of noise. If it was sharp enough to cut rock—assuming that chunk of craggy stuff wasn’t some other odd substance—it would make short work of at least some of his chains, right? Or at least, he seemed to think so.

Good enough. Ari took a tentative step closer to the mound of metal. She was almost in reach.

He shifted. Two gauntleted hands rose, arms straining against webbed chains—how did he breathe under all that weight? Maybe the armor kept him from being crushed by the wrapping? Ari hesitated, studying the helmet’s high crest, the blank sheerness over nose and mouth, the dark eye-slit.

What if the thing under it wasn’t human but some kind of horror-movie monster? Sure, hesoundedfine. She had also married a nice guy who held doors for her but turned out to be a cruelly violent piece of shit, which meant her ability to make good choices was clearly questionable. Again, she considered that maybe this guy was locked up for a good goddamn reason.

Still, it seemed needlessly cruel to imprison anyone under these conditions. She wouldn’t wish being trapped under chains on Wanda Lee, or even Mike himself.

You don’t have to wish it.Her palms tingled, feeling the jolts again.You know what you did.

“There is another possibility,” he said, quietly. “You might strike me down, my lady. ’Tis sharp enough.”

Oh, crap. Was that what her hesitation looked like? “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” The lie stung her tongue; she’d hurt Mike Hardison plenty, and Wanda Lee would be devastated even if her son was a brutal, lying asshole. Earl might even shed a tear; certainly his boy was the only thing that remote, faintly supercilious expression on his face ever altered for.

“I know.” How could such a hollow, faceless voice sound so certain? “You never have, my kindness. We differ in that, as in nearly all else.”

Kindness? Maybe he was mistaking her for someone he knew. She was, after all, covered with dirt; she could’ve been anyone. Ari took the last two steps in a rush, arms straight out, the sword a bright vertical bar dangling from her grasp. There was much more light now, not just from the multiplying golden windows but also the sky’s vault, covered with grey mist instead of stars.

When had that happened?

One gauntlet closed around her right wrist, a cold iron cuff. The other found the sword’s hilt, and as the fingers closed with a muffled clink a hollow sigh echoed from the helmet’s depths.

Oh, Jesus and gin. Ari tried to step back as the weight in her hands lessened, but the ironclad fingers turned tight, trapping her. Not painfully, but that could be because she froze, the instinct of three long years warning her struggle was useless and would only cause more damage in the end.

“Finally.” The chained man’s laugh was just as bitter, but lasted far longer.

Ari hunched her shoulders, trapped on tiptoe, and waited for the worst.

8

GAUNTLET, LOOSENED

A haze of dry,definite warmth spread from the metal around her right wrist. A faint crackling filled the cobbled space, a heavy scent—musk-spicy and not unpleasant—lingering for a bare moment before the freshening breeze dispelled it. Ari shook her head, dark hair sliding against her shoulders, and flinched again as long ribbons of dirt rose from her skin and clothes, shredding into nothingness.

The now-familiar discomfort of muddy, drip-dried denim or clinging cotton T-shirt and flannel vanished; the relief made her aware of how awful it had felt.

Helluva way to take a shower. Ari gasped, and staggered when the gauntlet loosened.

The chained shape swelled, drawing itself up. The sword made a soft sweet sound, cleaving air and iron both; a spray of colorless sparks stung her dark-adapted eyes. Sudden, heavy metallic clatter filled the stone-clad space—she winced at the racket—and the helmet fell with a clang, in two neatly cloven pieces.

Chains rattled as he moved. His head was now visible, a ragged shock of inky hair, a haggard pale face rising from shadow. He didn’t look as waxy and unhealthy as she’d suspected, so maybe he hadn’t been locked in the helmet for long. Yet his cheekbones stood out startlingly, and heavy, slanting brows shaded coal-dark eyes, a fierce glitter in his gaze holding all the warning in the world.

---