Page 29 of Chained Knight

His jaw set, a muscle flicking in one pallid cheek. Had he left his cloven helmet where it dropped, in the castle’s thick shadow? He studied her closely, and Ari shrank even further.

Another day, another angry man. Even magic couldn’t change that one essential fact of the universe.

“Ah.” Quietly. “You are frightened of me.”

I know what men are like. And you really are scary as fuck. “I don’t know what’s happening. One moment I’m…” Words failed her. “The next I’m here, and then there’s a road and the Keep and…”

“You remember nothing, yet you freed me.” His head tilted back, and that tiny flicker in his cheek was more pronounced as he stared at the hilltop, or the purple-tinted sky. “Too brave for my comfort, as ever.” His chin drew level once more, those dark eyes scorching afresh.

Nobody’s ever called me brave before.Except maybe Mom. Thinking about her mother was a good way to get even further distracted, and Ari needed all the wits she could scrape together for this.

Once they figured out she was just an inadvertent trespasser, what would happen? Those swords were awful sharp, and the arrows too. She was caught between a possible punishment from these people at some unspecified future date, or attempting to rough it in the wilderness while trying to stay far away from giant robots and those horrible, unseen moaning things splatting down the road last night.

Had it really been just last night? Time had come unmoored, and she was drowning.

The chained man took another step, with strangely diffident caution. He couldn’t possibly be afraid of a woman less than halfhis size. “Come.” Businesslike now, he held out one gauntleted hand again, palm-up. “Trust me a very little, as you trusted my knights. I will not lose you again.”

‘Again’ is doing a lot of work in that sentence, my guy. The terror of her young nightmares vied with unwilling comfort, and the silent firework of a further realization dilated inside the jumble passing for her brain. “I don’t even know your name.” She sounded like a complete dope, but she couldn’t look away. In broad—if reddish—daylight, he was a different animal.

Maybe she looked like one, too.

“It was burned out of me,” he replied gravely. “I shall be granted another when it pleases you. For now, though…” A slight, beckoning motion.

He doesn’t even have a name? Oh, this is bullshit, Ariadne. Run while you can, get the hell out of here.But she had no choice, and in any case, Ari was… curious? Was that the word?

There was only so much fear a human being could handle before she simply stopped caring. She had to try twice before she could loosen her arms, and finally laid her fingers against warm, supple leather. There was a thick iron strap crossing his palm as well, tanned animal hide and metal enclosing a hand that had killed, and killed again—assuming the robots were alive.

The gauntlet closed. Metal whispered gently, cradling instead of crushing. Sharp edges brushed her skin, refraining from puncture with exquisite control.

“I’ve never ridden an equine before,” she managed. Even with the magic pondwater, her throat was dry. Thankfully, the sensation bore little relation to Mike’s fingers digging in, or the dusty tight-lodged rock of panic when Wanda Lee hissedjust you wait until my son comes home, little missy.

“You once enjoyed it,” the chained man said. “Let us see if you still do.”

18

THE BREACH

It wasn’tthe most uncomfortable she’d ever been, but Ari still might have preferred walking. She couldn’t really think while busily pretending she sat on top of a massive moving quadruped every day of the week, ho-hum, nothing to see here, move along.

The chained man held the reins, strolling at the beast’s head, while she clutched the saddlehorn and tried not to feel ridiculous. Downhill and through thick forest the group moved, then the road appeared through a screen of underbrush. The chained man didn’t break stride, stepping onto its surface. More hills rose on either side, though the road somehow avoided any in its arrow-straight course; the slopes were all of the same stone as the morning’s cave, covered thickly with vegetation, and not a single almost-mountain had been topped.

Jazarl and his guys seemed happy to have their big friend back, riding in a loose pack surrounding her and the chained man. Every once in a while a pair would peel off, ranging ahead or dropping behind according to some arcane schedule, and rejoin the group a short while later, melding out of the trees. Theequines’ hooves made happy chiming sounds on stone paving, and she decided they were definitely shod. Which brought up the question of just who had done that?

Their conversation was minimal, and mostly cryptic. The Breach. Gesthel. The Grey Lady. How happy she was going to be to see Ari. The Mere.

At least she didn’t have to worry about where her feet were going, so she could gawk at the scenery all she wanted. Was it possible to draw on horseback? You certainly couldn’t paint.

Watercolors would work for the near-violet sky, she decided, but the woods required colors which didn’t bleed so easily. There were more and different plants now, in every stage of maturity. Maple-like trees with bright red foliage had appeared, as well as pale-barked almost-aspens, and near-willows with purple fingers. Ferns exploded, still wet with rain. Droplet-gemmed bushes thickened or thinned according to light through the canopy. No debris settled on the road; pristine and whole, it cut through the woods in merry defiance of its own impossibility. The stone blocks seemed more yellow today, somewhere between lemon and light amber, but maybe that was the particular cast of the tired red light.

Each leaf was distinct, every fallen twig unique. She glimpsed flutters that had to be birds, though not clearly enough to guess what they resembled, and other animals probably knew to avoid any sounds meaning ‘human-like things’.

At least riding didn’t feel particularly like a punishment, unless it was one of pure embarrassment.

“My lady?” Darjeth leaned from his saddle, offering her one of their oddly shaped leather canteens. “We may halt at any moment, for your comfort.”

Ari didn’t need more water, but she took the offer anyway—maybe she could get more answers. All she had at the momentwas a contradictory half-mosaic; survival would depend on what role they wanted her to play. “Everything looks different.”

“All is renewed, and heals apace. You need not worry, though.” Darjeth’s grin was broad and chipper, his wide-brimmed, very handsome hat pushed slightly back and platinum hair touching his shoulders. Even the signs of wear on his leather jerkin, the stitches on his shirt, and the nap of his trousers were startlingly clear; his rapier-hilt bobbed, glinting. “The pards will not trouble us, nor thekaharak.”

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