Jaleigh Johnson - Unbroken Chain - The Darker Road

The necklace in one hand, Ashok fingered the spikes of his chain with the other. He thought he felt warmth from the metal, but he passed it off as the heat from his body infecting the chain. His thoughts filled with strategies of defense and the option for retreat if it came to that.

In his heart, he knew neither of them would back down. The anticipation built to an ache, his tense muscles ready to fight. And it would be a fight-a brutal one. The nightmare would make Ashok earn his service.

A speck of movement appeared on the horizon. Ashok drew in a breath and let it out. Time slowed down, and every sound on the desolate plain faded to silence. In that breath of utter peace, he heard the distant pound of hooves against the cracked soil.

One, two, three, four went his breaths on the air-the fiery hooves struck the ground, the blacksmith smote her anvil and forged her weapon. They were all in Ashok’s mind-the city beneath him, the sky above him, and he and the nightmare in between, on the edge-the breath between action and inaction.

He remembered experiencing this same sensation with Vedoran on the bridges between Pyton and Hevalor. He’d been a separate entity then, too, utterly alone and yet surrounded by Ikemmu. These moments, the small eternities, the spaces in which entire lives were lived-shadar-kai lives.

These moments belong to no gods, Ashok thought. They are only mine.

The nightmare came across the plain with mane and tail ablaze, the beast an exhilarating mass of coordinated muscles and graceful steps. Once within sight of Ashok, the nightmare slowed and tensed, nostrils flaring in question.

He’s looking for Ilvani, Ashok realized. He remembers that pain.

Holding the necklace loose in his hand, Ashok came toward the beast to reassure him that he’d indeed come alone. The nightmare snorted and put his nose against Ashok’s chest, taking in his scent.

“That’s right,” Ashok said. “No one but you and I-no one around to see if we kill each other out here.”

Whickering, the nightmare regarded him with his red eyes, and Ashok wondered, not for the first time, how much the beast could actually understand him. Was the nightmare intelligent enough to comprehend speech, or was their relationship purely instinctual, a shared bond of blood and death?

“You understand well enough to know that I want something from you,” Ashok said. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need you.”

The line of flames that ran up and down the beast’s spine dimmed somewhat, which to Ashok meant calm. But the heat was a constant presence, a promise of violence. Ashok gripped his chain and carefully raised the bone spur necklace.

He saw a flash, the whites of the nightmare’s eyes, but by then it was too late. The beast reared into the air and kicked. Ashok saved himself at the last second by angling his body to the right. The blow glanced off his left shoulder, but the force drove Ashok to the ground.

Instinctively, he rolled away, but the nightmare didn’t attack again. He knew that pursuing Ashok inevitably meant tasting his spiked chain. Instead, he danced back, and the flame burned bright and hot from his back.

Coughing, Ashok sat up. His arm was numb from shoulder to elbow, except when he tried to move it. Then his shattered bones grated against each other and made Ashok’s vision go dark around the edges. He gasped with the pain of it. He couldn’t let himself lose consciousness-he needed the pain as he needed the nightmare’s trust.

He stood and faced the nightmare again, his dead arm dangling at his side. “So the direct approach isn’t going to work, eh?” he asked the stallion. “It’s all right. I thought you’d say no at first. Let me convince you.”

The spiked chain came up, then down. Spikes tore up the dirt at the nightmare’s feet. The beast jumped away, but Ashok followed, driving the beast in a circle. His chain clipped his front forelock, and the nightmare screamed loudly, a sound that momentarily deafened Ashok.

The scream died away, but the disorienting effect left him dizzy and fighting the fear aura. He came on the attack again, but he stepped sluggishly. The nightmare saw the advantage and charged in beneath the reach of Ashok’s chain.

At close range, there was biting and fire. Ashok dodged the beast’s mouth, but the nightmare slammed into him with his body, burning Ashok’s cheek and barely missing his eyes and mouth. He fell again, blistered skin scraping the ground. Ashok breathed heavily and took in this newest source of agony. Waves of pain shuddered through him, but the injuries weren’t debilitating. He’d far from reached his limits. The nightmare knew that as well as he did.

Ashok got up. The problem had become apparent to him at the same time his face was being ground into the dirt. He had two hands, but with a broken arm, he would never be able to manipulate his chain and throw the enchantment over the beast’s head. The nightmare would make him fight with one or the other, and the necklace was a poor choice for a weapon.

Or was it?

Deliberately, Ashok snapped his chain in the air to get the nightmare’s attention. The beast whickered softly-amused, Ashok thought-at the display but did not retreat. Then, instead of attacking, Ashok draped the necklace over his own head. He had no idea how the magic would affect him, but wearing the necklace served two purposes. The nightmare would know that the necklace contained no killing magic, and now Ashok was free to wield his chain.

Using his good hand, he threw one end toward the beast, snapped it back with the other, and immediately followed up the feint by charging straight at the beast.

Again, his world exploded in pain.

Ashok dropped to his knees as a dozen needles stabbed him simultaneously in the chest. He looked down to see the bone spurs burrowing into his flesh. They passed through his clothing and bone scale armor, pinning the plates to his chest as if they were parchment. His heart stuttered, and Ashok suddenly couldn’t get his breath.

Maybe he’d been wrong-perhaps it was killing magic after all, or at least a spell meant for a much larger creature than a shadar-kai.

The nightmare circled him. Ashok wondered why the stallion hadn’t closed in for the kill, but then he realized his sudden collapse must have confused the beast. He expected another feint, a trick to lure him close to Ashok. That suspicion probably saved Ashok.

He planted his feet and tried to stand. The ground tilted and blurred with the sky. The disorientation wasn’t from the pain, though that was intense enough to demand his attention. It was the magic coursing through his body. Neimal hadn’t lied-it went to the blood. To experiment, he tried focusing his mind to teleport behind the nightmare. Nothing happened. His body was as solid as ever-and as vulnerable.

The nightmare narrowed his circle, hooves pawing the ground in anticipation of another charge. Ashok knew he would have one chance to react when the beast came near. All or nothing, burn or fly.

He staggered, and this time the nightmare took the bait, surging in to knock Ashok aside. Ashok absorbed the blow as fire licked along his ribs. Reaching up, Ashok wrapped his bad arm around the beast’s neck. His hand passed through flame. The burn and pain of broken bones drove him to the edge of unconsciousness, but he held on. With his other hand, he ripped off the enchanted necklace, tearing the bone spurs from his flesh. He heard a loud roaring and realized it was his own voice screaming in pain and triumph. He slipped the necklace over the nightmare’s head and released it.

Gasping, burning, Ashok collapsed on the ground. He rolled feebly back and forth to extinguish the flames on his cloak and back. Above him, the nightmare bucked and thrashed to try to get the necklace off, but it was too late. The bone spurs dug into his flesh, and the stallion screamed in fury and pain. Hooves smashed the ground inches from his head, but Ashok had no strength to roll away. Instead, he simply stared up at the beast and let him decide to kill him or not.