10 Short Novels Magazine — page 91: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

i, ey —— ee -s, a Pace ~ we = aad a : ae es = Sa eee a Sere Se ee SS arene —s — t erases ae as % ss ae ~— oe « “te = — se <2 -. e = = ~ “ “f: a us down the ages. Yet no one of the three of us has realized what forces have been drawing us together—and then separat- ing us. “After that first night my half of the sigil mysteriously disappeared, but al- ways I have found you in possession of your half. I have thought that, perhaps, if I could recover my portion of it, we would not again be separated. Oh, to think I was so near to regaining it only yesterday! ‘When I was last upon the earth I got an inkling of the fate that has followed us for centuries, through an old family document that had long been stored in an ancient chest. The document told the story of that medieval Marion de Horven- dile and her lover, Reinald Kennaston. It said that the curse that was upon us could be revoked only by one gifted in the black arts. I went to one such, and he told me that only after my death could I dissolve the spell of our doom. “He gave me a cantrap that would en- able me to return to earth in material ' form. I was to seek you out—and the spell would be broken if, for longer than one night, we could remain in each other’s ee “We have failed ....Whether it is because the armor of Perion de Montors was in the room where we met—and his restless, warlike spirit doubtless close by —I do not know. But once more, my lover, we are to taste the undying hatred of the Black Knight.” “Truly ag fair lady!” The deep voice of the man Marion called the Black Knight came from the doorway, but the note of ironical humor that had been in it before, was gone now. His right hand clutched a whip which, as he now came forward, he snapped viciously in the air; and I saw Marion cringe as if it had ~ .gtruck her flesh. As I gazed at her beautiful, terror- rigid body my mind was a seething welter of doubt, horrible foreboding, and pity. If her story were true, she not only was about to endure something unimaginably dreadful—but she knew with terrible pre- cision exactly what to expect. HE Black Knight stood over the body of Marion and gazed down at her gleaming skin that showed through her torn dress—and he stared with blaz- ing, wolfish eyes. I raved and cursed. I called him every vile name I could re- member, hoping to sting him into turn- ing his attention to me. But he con- temptuously ignored me. He was speak- ing to Marion, so finally I fell silent so that I could hear what he was saying. “Thou wilt receive my embraces here — ; ee ne ~ So NS Black Knight's Bondage oe BQ and now, fair one,” he said, “or taste the whip. Yon mewling knave shall see with what joy thou shalt welcome thy rightful mate to thine arms.” “No, no!” screamed Marion. “For the love of heaven have pity, Montors! Must you torture us to the end of time—only because we love each other?” “Aye—and beyond!” he roared, his dark face turning even blacker as her admission of her love for me whipped blood into it. Then he swung the many- tailed whip downward, its vicious strands whistling through the air to crack horri- bly against Marion’s tender flesh. I screamed and lurched forward with all my strength against the rusty iron chains that bound me; but Marion com- pressed her lips tightly, and although she could not control the tortured writh- ing of her body, she made not a sound. Again the whip descended, and my screams turned to tearing sobs. Marion’s creamy skin showed livid welts where the whip had struck, but still she made no outery The Black Knight paused, glowering down at her. I never ceased a moment to struggle with my chains, and now I noticed some- thing that, in my frenzy, I had not seen before. There was really only one chain that bound me. It started at my right hand, went through a hole bored in the rack; emerged through a similar hole at my left hand, disappeared in another after encircling my wrist, and went downward across the back side of the rack to bind my ankles in the same man- ner to the lower bars. The chain was hundreds of years old. Once ten men could not have broken it—but now... Suddenly I became very quiet. Covertly I inspected every link I could see. If I could find a promising point on which to exert concentrated pressure... But now the Black Knight was plying the whip again—and to save my soul I could not drag my agonized eyes from the ghastly spectacle, although I continued to strain against my bonds. Soon Marion’s body was horribly cross- hatched with a livil network of welts. The fiend who towered above her was sweat- ing with his efforts, and his face was a devilish mask in which brutal rage and. lustful relish in his work were insanely mingled. At last he desisted and stood, again, looking down at her. Marion’s writhing had ceased. She was limp and quiet. “Bah!” grunted her torturer, and flung his bloody whip to the floor with a ges- ture of disgust. “‘’Tis purile child’s play! * taste of hot iron will rouse thee, my ove!” Tes ae “comicbooks.com