Gardens of the Moon

Paran rose, collected the reins of the surviving horses. He led the beasts back to the scene of the fight. The Tiste And? had vanished, but the Hounds remained, motionless dark humps in the yellow grass. He dropped the reins and approached one. The slice across its chest still leaked blood. Crouching, Paran reached out, ran his fingers along the animal's hide. See what the desire for murder gets you? Hood's Breath, but you were a beautiful beast. His fingertips brushed blood. The captain recoiled at the contact, but it was too late. Something rippled up his arm, swept through him. He fell back into darkness, the sound of chains rattling taut.



Paran found himself walking and he was not alone. Through the gloom he could make out figures on all sides, each shackled with long iron chains, leaning forward as if pulling at an immense weight. The ground underfoot was barren, lifeless. Overhead there was nothing but darkness. Beneath the constant creak of the chains was a heavier sound that Paran could feel through the soles of his boots. Alone unchained, he fell back towards the source of that sound, passing chained figures, many of them not human. A shape appeared, hulking, pitching. A wagon, impossibly huge, its wooden wheels taller than a man. Driven by an insatiable desire to discover what it carried, Paran moved closer.



A chain ripped across his chest, throwing him from his feet. An earpiercing howl sounded directly above him. Claws gouged his left arm, pinning it to the ground. A chain rippled under his back. He struggled as a cold wet nose and savage teeth pushed under his chin. The jaws I Paran lay perfectly still, waiting for the fatal clenching of those jaws.



Instead, they pulled away. He found himself staring up into the Hound's eyes, one blue, one brown. A massive collar of iron circled its neck. The beast lunged away. The chain under him snapped taut, flinging Paran into the air. He felt more than heard the wagon groan sideways, even as he landed sprawling into the path of one of the wooden wheels.



A hand grasped the collar of his cloak and dragged him clear. The captain scrambled to his feet.



A voice beside him spoke. “Any man who has earned mercy from Hounds and walks here unchained is a man worth talking to. Walk with me.”



The shadow of a cowl hid the stranger's features. The man was big, dressed in rags. After releasing Paran he resumed straining on his chain.



“Never before,” he grunted, “has this prison been so tested.” He hissed as the wagon lurched yet again to the Hounds” frantic attempts to escape.



“I fear this will overturn.”



“And if it does?”



The face swung to him briefly and in the darkness Paran saw the flash of teeth. “The pulling will get harder.”



“Where are we?”



“The Warren within the Sword. Did not Dragnipur take your life, too?”



“If it had, would I not be chained as well?”



“True enough. What then are you doing here?”



“I don't know,” Paran admitted. “I saw the Hounds killed by Rake's sword. Then I touched the blood of one of the slain beasts.”



“That explains their confusion. They thought you one of their own: at first. You were wise to submit to that Hound's challenge.”



“Too frightened to move, you mean.”



The stranger laughed. “Even so.”



“What is your name?”



“Names are meaningless. Rake killed me. Long ago. That is enough.”



Paran fell silent. Eternity, chained here, forever pulling. And I ask for the man's name. Would any apology suffice?



The wagon bucked savagely, earth ripped from under its wheels.



Figures fell, wailing. The Hounds howled their fury.



“Gethol's Breath,” the stranger gasped. “Will they never cease?”



“I don't think they will,” Paran said. “Can those chains be broken?”



“No. None have managed it yet, that is, and there are dragons among us. But these Hounds:” He sighed. “It is astonishing, but already I long for the peace their arrival has shattered.”



“Perhaps I can help.”



The stranger barked a laugh. “By all means, try.”



Paran moved away, heading towards the Hounds. He had no plan in mind. But I alone am unchained. The thought stopped him and he smiled. Unchained. No one's tool. He continued on, wondering. He passed figures straining step by step, some silent, some muttering in madness. None raised its head to glance as he passed. The sound of bestial gasping reached him. “Hounds!” Para called. “I would help!”



After a time, they appeared from the gloom. Blood sheathed their shoulders and chests, the flesh. torn and mangled by the collars. The Hounds trembled, muscles jumping along their flanks. Their eyes, level with Paran's own, met his with such numbed, helpless misery that his heart lurched. He reached out to the odd-eyed one. “I would examine your collars, your chains, seeking a flaw.”