Black Moon Draw

by Lizzy Ford

  “Maybe it’s not what you think,” I say quietly, watching the Red Knight approach us with a confident smile on his face, as if he’s going to play this off like nothing happened.

  “You are quick to defend the betrayer.” The Shadow Knight isn’t happy.

  “You are just as quick to assume the worst about a man who is going to be your brother by marriage soon.”

  “I preferred you when you were laughing madly.”

  “Maybe if you didn’t randomly declare war on everyone, you’d find some people aren’t that bad!”

  “’Tis not random, witch. Were you a normal woman . . .”

  “You’d sell me. I know.” What an asshole.

  Pissed at me, the Shadow Knight dismounts and takes the reins as he moves to meet the Red Knight. The horse starts prancing nervously and I hang onto the saddle.

  The exchange between him and the Red Knight is curt and brief. The Red Knight wisely doesn’t look at me, as if suspecting he’s already in trouble with the Shadow Knight who has no qualms about lopping off body parts to prove a point.

  The Shadow Knight drops the reins and starts back towards me. Before he can drag me off the horse, I slide off on my own and groan.

  My god – my legs have never hurt like this. I don’t think I can walk straight and am grateful for the dress that prevents people from seeing the fact I can’t hold my legs together. They’re quivering and burning, my ass hurting from the uncomfortable travel.

  “How can you ride around like this?” I grumble at the Shadow Knight.

  Ignoring me, he reaches over one of my shoulders to grip the pommel of the saddle and nudges me aside to reach the saddlebags. Trapped between his thick arms with his wide chest close enough to touch if I’m not perfectly still, I can’t tell if I’m going to stop breathing or hyperventilate. His scent and warmth affect me too quickly, and I work hard to suppress the fire in my system.

  I don’t dare look at him when he’s this close and wait silently for him to finish. He’s not remotely aware of what’s going through my mind or the tremor of anticipation heating my blood.

  He stops moving. When he doesn’t start immediately, I look up to see he’s gazing down at me.

  Or . . . Maybe he’s very aware of his effect on women.

  As if hearing the thought, amusement warms his eyes briefly. “Come, witch.” Slinging a satchel over his head, he stalks away.

  I release the breath I’ve been holding, pull the messenger bird off the horse’s mane and follow.

  The sun is going down. It’s suddenly darker. Looking up at the dusky sky in annoyance, I make a mental note to send LF an email when I get home and tell her to get a grip on her concept of time.

  We walk into the hold, and my attention is instantly arrested by the incredible scene before me. It’s almost like going back in time: servants in white scurry around in a foyer with a ceiling thirty feet high. The wooden beams supporting the stone structure are visible and a wrought-iron chandelier holding blazing torches hangs from one of them. There are torches ensconced on the walls as well and one of the three doors of the foyer is open to reveal a great hall with some combination of herbs lining the floor. A monstrous table stretches the length of the banquet hall. Burning hearths punctuate the wall every fifteen feet or so.

  I smell mint and . . . basil. Comforting, refreshing scents that make my stomach growl more loudly.

  Where the fourth wall would be is a hallway four people wide and twenty feet tall that leads into the interior of the fortress.

  Breathing deeply, I turn around completely to take in the scene, loving this place. I mean, who doesn’t want a castle? I knew the Red Knight had something good going for him.

  Except for keeping a poor kid prisoner and accepting bribes from the Shadow Knight’s enemy. Then again, who am I to take sides?

  “The Shadow Knight will not be pleased that you do not follow him.”

  I turn to face the Red Knight. He’s keeping his distance, but he’s got a look on his face that says he’s as interested in talking to me as I am him.

  New start. No more cowering wallflower for me.

  “He’ll get over it,” I proclaim.

  The Red Knight says nothing. He appears to be trying not to smile.

  “Hey, can we talk?” I ask, closing the distance between us. “I have some more questions.”

  His blue gaze is on the hallway, as if he doesn’t want to get caught talking to me. “We may. I have questions for you as well.”

  “Hmmm. Okay. I guess that’s fair.” I find myself momentarily caught in gazing at his noble, chiseled profile and hoping he’s not the Betrayer. He’s a pretty boy compared to the Shadow Knight, and I’m not sure two more handsome men exist. “When and where?”

  Blue eyes settle on me, wary yet amused. “Two candlemarks, by the well at the center of the gardens.”

  Candlemark. It’s gotta be a measure of time. Except I’m not really sure how long that is.

  At my blank look, the Red Knight allows a small smile to slip. “I shall send someone to find you.”

  “That’ll work,” I reply. “I better go for now. Shadow likes to use his axe on people.”

  “Indeed. It would be wise if you did not tell him about our plans.”

  “Got it.” With a smile, I turn away and start down the hallway.

  I don’t see the Shadow Knight but assume he’ll find me when he realizes I’m not following.

  “Battle-witch!” It’s my squire and he sounds frantic.

  Facing him, I wait as he emerges from the intersection I just passed and hurries to me.

  “You should not wander off!” he chides me. “The knights here will do terrible things to you, if they catch you! You’ll be -”

  “Deflowered and beheaded. I know.” I roll my eyes. “C’mon. Take me to wherever I’m supposed to be.”

  The poor kid rarely interacts with me without ending up confused or uncertain. He takes my hand and tugs me down an adjacent hallway. I don’t know how he knows his way around. I’m soon lost. The hold is a maze of hallways, stairs, and closed wooden doors that all look alike. There are no windows to help me orient myself. For all I know, he’s taking me in circles.

  We arrive to a hallway that looks like every other one, except it has a dead end. One of the doors is cracked and the squire pushes it open.

  The bedchamber is more impressive than the foyer. There are thick rugs in jewel-toned colors covering the stone floor and lining the walls, a huge hearth taller than I am on one side, a four-poster bed that’s at least twice as large as a California King, numerous trunks and wardrobes, a dining area by the corner nearest the door, and a bench seat beneath the windows.

  “This is gorgeous!” I exclaim, walking to the bed. It feels like a real mattress and I fling my sore, aching body across it, sinking into it with a sigh. It’s plush and the blankets a bit itchy. They smell like horses. Pretty much everything in this world does, I’m noticing. But I don’t care. I curl up on my side and relax my unhappy body.

  “Witch!” the Shadow Knight snaps.

  “Can you leave me in peace for two seconds? Please?” I groan.

  There’s a moment of quiet and then, “Very well. Do not leave this chamber.”

  Thank god. I say nothing.

  The door closes behind him and I lay still. I’d give anything for a bath or maybe some Icy Hot. I wonder if it’s possible for my ass to be broken; moving even a little bit makes me wince. I have enough padding down there that a day on a horse shouldn’t faze me.

  “Are you hungry?” the squire asks.

  “Starving.”

  “Shall I fetch you supper?”

  I lift my head. “You’d do that?”

  He nods.

  “That’d be amazing. Thanks.”

  The kid leaves.

  After a good five minutes, I sit up with a grimace. I check my hand, hoping to find a note there from LF with instructions on how to get out of here. There’s nothing, aside from the c
ountdown, and I stand and do some stretches to loosen up my miserable body.

  A knock draws me towards the door and I open it, expecting the kid.

  “M’lady.” A man with a white tree on his black tunic bows. “The Red Knight will see you, if you are available.”

  “I am.” Interested in what the Red Knight can tell me, I hesitate only for a moment to consider what the Shadow Knight might want me to do.

  No. I’m strong enough to make my own decisions and apparently, magical enough to flatten full-grown men into pancakes. I’m no longer waiting for permission from someone else to do what I want to.

  Take that, Jason!

  The messenger leads me through the maze of a hold. Torches light the hallways cheerfully and provide a source of warmth. It doesn’t seem like we go far despite the many turns and he opens a door leading into a garden lined by torches. Dark hedges line cobblestone pathways leading toward a black splotch I assume is a pond in the middle of the small garden. Benches squat beneath trimmed trees and I can smell flowers without seeing them.

  A form near the pond stands and I wade through the well-maintained foliage towards him. The Red Knight stands beside a low table with a pitcher and two chunky goblets on the tray.

  I approach and glance at the still pond. It reflects the stars and moon, rippling in a breeze too light for me to feel. It’s chilly in the garden but also peaceful.

  “Wine?” he asks, motioning me to sit.

  I hesitate. In the real world, it’s not a good idea to accept a drink from a man you’re pretty sure you can’t trust. I can’t think he wants to do me harm – or he would’ve killed me instead of offering wine the first time we met. I know enough about him and this place that I’m tempted to pass.

  But come on – this is wine.

  “Sure,” I reply and sit. Had to be stone. I wince, my butt too sore for me to sit in one spot long.

  He pours then pinches and sprinkles something into it from a low, ceramic bowl.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “Herbs to enhance the drink.” He puts some in his as well, so I assume they’re not going to kill me.

  I pick up the goblet. Before it reaches my lips, I can smell vanilla and maybe cinnamon. Their faint, familiar scents reassure me, and I take a drink. The wine is dry and tart.

  “How is he treating you?” the Red Knight begins, sipping his wine.

  “Good. Battle is rough.”

  “He has shown a certain level of restraint I find intriguing.”

  Restraint? Really?

  “He has not decided to keep you. Not the witch he expected?”

  I lower my goblet, uneasiness stirring. There’s a political aspect to this meeting I didn’t expect. I’m not about to give the Red Knight information that might embarrass or hinder the operations of the Shadow Knight. I’m quiet, thinking of a response that won’t shut the door on anything the Red Knight might be able to tell me, but will also derail this line of discussion.

  “He has not performed the traditional ritual between a Knight and his battle-witch. You have failed him somehow?”

  Don’t. React. I’m gritting my teeth. I hate, hate the sense of feeling like I’m not good enough.

  “It has the others talking as well.”

  “What ritual?” Dread flutters through me even as I ask the question.

  The Red Knight’s face is hard to read in the starlight. I wonder if he chose this place on purpose because it would be more difficult for me to read his expressions.

  “Wait,” I say quickly, aware he’s drawn me into something I’m not here to discuss. “I don’t want to know. I wanted to talk to you about a couple other things.”

  “Very well. But first, how do my sisters fare?”

  “Great, I think. I haven’t seen them much.”

  “My eldest sister is not yet bonded?”

  I hold up my hands. “Totally not my place to say.”

  “This is concerning.” He gazes off into the distance.

  “Maybe they’re not ready. Better they take their time then bond in haste, isn’t it?”

  “Ready?” he repeats, eyebrows shooting up. “’Tis duty, witch, not a choice. Their alliance will secure a more lasting peace than either kingdom is accustomed to.”

  “Sorry. I have no idea how this works,” I reply. “It’s a shame they can’t choose who they wish to bond with.” I’m more disappointed than warranted, my thoughts on how incredible it would be to be the woman the Shadow Knight’s world revolved around.

  “My elder sister thinks as you do,” he admits. “There was a time when she was betrothed to the son of the Desert Knight of Brown Sun Lake. It took some . . . convincing to break off their betrothal and promise her to the Shadow Knight instead. The two Knights are mortal enemies and I fear I made their brittle relationship worse.”

  I could listen to him talk forever. He’s got a beautiful, cultured, upper class British accent. “Was your sister upset about it?”

  “They both were. ‘Tis why the younger left with her, to escape their manipulative brother.”

  “Maybe you should let her choose who she wants to be with,” I say again.

  “’Tis not our way,” he says and straightens. “Now, you had questions. I’m listening.”

  Thoughts on the two princesses following the Shadow Knight’s army, I can’t help feeling bad for both of them this time, even the Disney Princess. “You weren’t surprised I was from some other world,” I start. “Why not?”

  “You aren’t the first to come here. There are records at my palace that document the appearance of men and women from places that do not exist.”

  “Seriously? Where are they?” I ask anxiously. “I need to find them!”

  “You are the first in this era. The others are long dead.”

  Disappointed, I absently sip my wine and then stretch forward to pour a second cup. It’s strong enough that I already feel like I’m starting to buzz. Or maybe, I need food to soak it up. I haven’t eaten since this morning.

  I copy his movement and pinch at the herbs to drop into my goblet. I gaze into it for a bit too long, fascinated by the reflection of the stars.

  “If you know this much, do you have any idea about the way back?” I ask.

  “There is no way back.”

  “You see, I just can’t believe that,” I say with some impatience. “If I got here, I can get back.”

  “If you could get back, I could find who sent you here and stop this nonsense.”

  “That’s just . . .” insane. It almost makes sense that I’m here, but I can’t fathom the idea of a book character seeking out its author. Maybe because he’s not real. I draw a deep breath and try to figure out where to start to unravel this mess.

  “You have no memory of who sent you here or how?” the Red Knight asks.

  “None. I mean, nothing but what I told you. I don’t know LF and can’t really remember how I got here.” I nibble my lower lip, realizing for the first time I really don’t know what happened. The last thing I recall was watching the ending of Labyrinth where the heroine realized the power had been in her hands all along, not the bad guy’s. I sort of blacked out towards the last part of that scene, only to wake up in Black Moon Draw. “Do you think I’m missing something?”

  “I believe it to be possible. You arrived here by some means. As you pointed out, if you could return, would it not be by the same means? Mayhap you need to remember it.”

  “That doesn’t usually happen when you’ve drunk that much,” I say with a frown. I shake my head. I’m tipsy. Before I lose my ability to focus, I change the subject. “The Shadow Knight. Why is he obsessed with reclaiming his lands? What happened?”

  “To discuss a past era is to invite tragedy,” the Red Knight warns, a note of discomfort entering his voice.

  “So you won’t tell me?”

  “I am an ally to all. Do not turn to me for such knowledge.”

  “That reminds me. I found the Brown Lake coins in your
carriage and he found them on me. He doesn’t really consider you an ally right now.” The words come out before I can stop them, the side effect of buzzing.

  The Red Knight stiffens. I study him with effort, the world fuzzy and unsteady. He says nothing in what feels like forever. I know it’s because I’m no longer sober that time seems to slow, but I quickly grow tired of waiting for him to respond and pour more wine for both of us.

  “’Tis not so simple,” he replies finally. “Your arrival complicated our alliance.”

  “I mess up everything. There has to be a reason I’m here.” I sigh.

  “To become the last great battle-witch.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re right. I am a terrible battle-witch.” Whoa. I should not have said that.

  But it gets worse. I have the urge to tell him everything, from the time my parents divorced to the way the Shadow Knight makes me feel when he’s close enough for me to smell brownies. The compulsion isn’t natural; that much I know. I’ve been drunk enough times to know what it should feel like.

  “Is something in this?” I ask, setting the goblet down and staring at it.

  “’Tis strong wine.” He sets his down as well. “I know you have some magic. I saw it.”

  “I do. I guess it’s not what it’s supposed to be. Maybe because I’m not a damn witch to start off with!”

  “You are.” His calm, firm assurance makes my brows furrow. “There is a legend about Black Moon Draw, that if the last great battle-witch fell into the hands of the Shadow Knight ruling the dark kingdom, he would know victory over all. Reclaim the lands of his ancestors, break the family curse, and all war would end for an era.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” I say, thinking about the horrible battle I witnessed yesterday. I wish I knew more about the curse; it seems like everyone has his or her own understanding of it.

  “If you are a knight of this world, it does,” the Red Knight says dryly. “No one wants to lose his kingdom.”

  “Ah. Makes sense.” I’m starting to understand a little more about what’s going on in this world. “What happens if he fails?”

  “The eternal fog of Black Moon Draw consumes all.”

  I stare at him blankly for a moment. “So you do know what happens. And you’d rather have that happen than be ruled by someone like him?”