Page 4

"They became drunk on power."

"On power, yes, and on their own capacity for evil. Evil so great that even they could  not escape it, and it caught them, and changed them."

"Changed them? How?"

"How can I explain? I don’t know the words. Things happened that no one should have to see, nobody should have to bear. Even I..." She broke off, looking down at her pale, twisting hands.

"You?"

"Never mind what I had to go through. The main thing is, you can’t ever leave, now that you’re in here."

"Who’s going to stop me? The gangs? I’d like to see them try."

"Oh they will, Sir Knight, they will." She looked at him wistfully. "Though if you could..."

"I would take you along, and anyone else who wishes to go," he told her. "If, that is, you want to come."

She smiled and got up from her loom. "It would be nice," she said, "if only I could believe that you would be able to leave. But I don’t, for others before you have tried."

"We shall see." The sword of the nameless metal lay heavy in the scabbard across his back, and he grew conscious of it. "Lady? Where can I find the gang?"

"They’ll find you," she said. "In fact, it’s certain that they watched you come."

He smiled at her. "Well, then, I am leaving now. If they want to stop me, they’ll have to do so now. Will you come with me?"

She looked at him for a long time, and then nodded. "I’ll come."

"I came to tell you I’m leaving, Man." The demon leaned down from the beast’s back, her horns framing her face. "I did not want to leave without saying goodbye."

"No, wait." He reached up towards her, but his questing fingers failed to touch her arm. "Don’t go."

"I can’t stay, Man." Her face was filled with sorrow. "I waited as long as I could, but I have to go away now. We have to face the future, you along your path, the beast and I along mine."

"Please," he began. "You can’t go. I want to be with you. Please don’t leave me."

"It’s too late, Man." The beast was already walking away into the darkness, and the demon’s hand, as she held it out, just failed to touch his. "Don’t forget me..." she said, her voice trailing away behind her.

"No," he said, his voice catching in his throat in a strangled sob. "No, no..."

"No," he said, his throat dry. The darkness was absolute as he opened his eyes. There was a rough surface under his face, rubbing against his cheek past the edge of his coif. He hurt all over.

Trying to sit up, he found that he could only raise his head a short distance. He was lying in some kind of confined space, barely wide enough to accommodate his body. Kicking out with his feet, he could feel nothing, nor if he held out his hands in the direction of his head.

"Where am I?" he asked pointlessly. Not only was there nobody to hear or answer, the mustiness of the air told him nobody had likely been here in a long time. Except whoever had put him here, of course.

"How did I get in here?" he amended.

It was difficult to remember. He could recall stepping out of the old sand-coloured house, the woman in grey close behind him. Once in the street, he had taken the sword from its scabbard and held it in his hand, ready. But there was nobody to fight. Not then.

They had almost made it out of the town, to the other side where he could see the white road stretching through the desert, the woman and he, and he had begun to wonder why nobody had left before. And he had just turned to check on the street behind when...

What?

He couldn’t remember. He’d turned to check on the street behind, and all he remembered after that was his dream with the demon, and waking in the darkness, with pain all over and unable to see a thing.

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