27. A Game We Played
27
A GAME WE PLAYED
Not quite large enough to be a lake but certainly far too big for a pond, the Mere’s surface rippled uneasily. The bright white stainless moon had just crested a shadow-line of bulging, misshapen trees on the far shore and its reflection turned sanguine; the fluid was red.
It wasn’t water. A distinct copper-laden smell reached Ari on the soft, playful breeze, and she almost choked. It filled her head like a nosebleed, heavy and trickling; she might have tried to stumble backward, turn and run, if not for her fingers trapped in the chained man’s gauntlet.
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?
Leshe lived in 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. “Did she ?”
“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 it must 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 to touch that 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 to embarrass , like forgetting a tampon the day of an important presentation.
Hannixe was probably full of helpful advice about cramps. Assuming these alien folk ever had them.
“Fine,” Ari said, and maybe the invisible translator didn’t know quite how to process the word because it came out in quivering, brittle English. She had a choice, though it wasn’t much of one; if she was going to fail, maybe she could do it with a little dignity instead of being dragged like a reluctant puppy. “Just fine.”
She lifted her chin and set off reluctantly downhill, her skirts whispering, slippers crunching on dry powdery earth.
The Cup’s pulsing intensified, a cut artery synchronized with waves of despairing revulsion. The wooden goblet was warm as the damn necklace now, just on the edge of uncomfortable scorching. The big perfect moon’s reflection bubble-steamed, more than half its bulk above the treetops on the Mere’s far margin, and the smell was thicker and more sickening with every step.
It really did remind her of nosebleeds, especially the few times Mike had forgotten to be discreet and popped her right in the face. Behind the memory was a reassuring catechism—no matter what else happened, she would never have to deal with him again.
Or would she? Once you accepted alternate dimensions, different planets, or fairyland, time travel wasn’t so outlandish.
I’d rather die . Well, she might get her wish.
She’d already done far more than she ever thought possible—shooting her husband, dragging a sword out of clinging rock, coming up with a correct hypothesis or two, and not going completely insane with fear on a bridge made of extraterrestrial or eldritch vertebrae. This was small beer, this was nothing.
Hold that thought. Pretend it’s a beating. Just disconnect and get through.
Easier said than done. Her breath came in short rasping sips. The ground really was crunchy, like dry cinders. Her footsteps made tiny chewing noises; Hannixe’s borrowed shoes were going to be filthy at the end of this.
Oh well.
She didn’t realize the chained man was right behind her until his gauntlet closed over her shoulder, warningly. “Close enough, my lady.”
Ari nearly started out of her skin. Did he think she’d run away? “I can’t reach from here.” I’m a lot shorter than you, and I don’t have fancy tentacle chains .
“Take care.” The words were a deep, warning growl.
You want me to do this, let me goddamn well do it. She swallowed an uncharacteristic but highly bracing flare of annoyance and decided not to bend over; she’d probably tip headfirst into the… the pool.
The Blood Mere.
So she was forced to step a little closer before sinking into an clumsy crouch, one hand attempting to keep the dress’s hem out of softly moving fluid. A different, dozy heat rose from the Mere’s surface; the smell was everywhere, dyeing the darkness a rusted vermilion. The moon’s reflection was a bloated, gory semicircle. Veils of steam twisted, tiny screaming faces peering out of the vapor.
Imagination or reality? Either way it was deeply creepifying. Her heart kept leaping into her throat, splashing back into her stomach, and repeating the acrobatics. Her arms prickled, gooseflesh attempting to break free.
She gripped the Cup’s stem, hoping to fill it without getting any on her fingers. Was he going to drink whatever she dredged up? Ari’s stomach tightened even harder, fighting both the evening’s last shot of clear pondwater and the Carcanet’s soothing, irregular pulses.
Lower, lower. She had her balance, and hopefully his knee wouldn’t nudge her. Mike might do that, tipping her right into a pile of something noxious.
It was just a joke, Ari. Lighten up . Funny how the ‘jokes’ never involved his embarrassment, only hers. And his goddamn mother, cawing with laughter while Earl gave one of his occasional, skeletal grins.
Ari sucked in a breath, leaned a little further. The Cup’s rim tilted, brightening as it caught stray moonlight. Swelling and thinning, the silver chasing sped its rotation. It really did look snakelike, and she hoped he didn’t expect her to drink anything from it.
Her left foot slipped. Ari teetered, and the thought— of course, I’m going to fall in— died amid a white glare.
The Cup’s rim met a heavy, cloying surface. A hiss of steam, a flash lasting much longer than lightning should, a soft painless jolt up her arm. Her eyelids fluttered, but the light did not wane or flicker; it poured through her, a vast sweet unsound like a train’s thundering passage married to a choir lingering upon the last swelling note of an Agnus Dei.
A sensation of falling swallowed her whole. Yet the drop was arrested, the jolt tightening every nerve and vein, and she was yanked breathlessly upward, collapsing against warm metal.
The Cup’s contents scattered, flashing silver. The Mere flamed with pale radiance; a great soughing, tossing wind poured over the poisoned forest. Branches thrashed, trunks groaning, needles and leaves and cactus-spines torn free.
Oh hell. Ari kept her eyes squeezed shut, but it was no use. The light was inside , not bothering to go through her lids or even her optic nerves. Doors opened along internal halls, a dizzying sense of looking across every blessed year of her existence—that was what they meant, she realized, when they said my life flashed before me .
As soon as it arrived it was gone, and she sagged. The whirlwind passed through toxic trees and poisonous undergrowth, spreading in concentric rings. But she was prisoned in metal-sheathed arms, and his chin rested atop her tumbled curls—Hannixe’s work with braid and ribbon was sadly damaged now, Ari thought, and blinked.
What the hell was that?
“The Mere is renewed.” His voice sliced through the storm, quiet and sure. “Do you doubt now, Ariadne?”