That voice was more dreadful to her than even the baying of the Dogs. It came to her out of nowhere. But it came with heat and fire.
“Throw them your glove,” said the Dragon. “They’ll not stop till they have what they were sent for.”
“Wh-what were they sent for?” Rose Red whispered, unable to hear her own voice above the Black Dogs’ din.
“I sent them for your other glove, sweet princess,” said the Dragon. “They’ll not let you pass until you give it to them.”
“Maybe I don’t want to pass.”
“Very well,” said the Dragon. “Return to what’s left of your promise to the prince. I’m sure I can make Lady Daylily very comfortable down here.”
Rose Red swore. Then she looped the handle of the lantern over her arm and peeled her second ragged glove from her hand, this time with no hesitation. Her desperation to be rid of the Black Dogs and their midnight would have driven her to far greater extremes.
You needn’t give in to him. Walk before me.
But there was no certainty that way. The Black Dogs growled and lunged, and her fear was far too great. Rose Red flung the glove with all her strength into the darkness beyond the lantern’s glow.
The lantern dimmed.
There was a snarling, vicious noise as the creatures brawled like alley mongrels. The next moment, they were gone. The midnight faded into half-light.
Rose Red found that she stood on the shore of a vast black lake. She knew then that she had reached the depths of the Dragon’s world. Her bare hands were cold as they gripped the handle of the dimmed lantern.
“The Lake of Endless Blackness.” She named it, and knew the name was true. Only now the lake was no pond created by damming up a streamlet. It truly was a lake, too large for her to see across, and the water was as black as ink, even where the light shone upon it.
She had no boat. Was she supposed to swim? She put out a tentative foot, slipping a toe into the water. A dread like death overwhelmed her at that one touch, and she drew back with a stifled cry. “Silent Lady,” she whispered like a prayer. “Silent Lady, shield me!”
But there was no Silent Lady here. Rose Red stood alone.
“You’ve always been alone,” said the Dragon’s voice, disembodied in the half-light. “You’ve always been alone but for me.”
From the lake’s black waters rose a mist that carried the poison of the Dragon. It whirled in elusive shapes, like the sound of a scream or the sensation of pain made visible. Ghostly hands dragged a small boat across the water to the shore where Rose Red stood. Thus was a crossing provided.
“I’ve got to go on now,” she told herself. “I’ve come so far.”
The boat creaked as its prow touched the shore. To all appearances, it was made of twigs . . . incredibly large twigs tied together with twine the thickness of a man’s arm. Like one of Leo’s toy boats but life-size. It sported one raggedy sail and a rudder, and it waited just for her.
Breathing many prayers to whomever might listen, Rose Red stepped onto the flimsy craft. The ghostly hands gave a last tug, and it moved away from the shore, carried by the waves out into open water. Rose Red held tight to the lantern with one hand, its dimming light her only comfort on that water. Her other hand gripped the rudder, for all the good it would do her.
The lake pulled her out to its depths.
Just as before, a vault of emptiness arched above her, not sky, just darkness. The lake water did not reflect that darkness but was, in and of itself, black. The only light came from the lantern, but Rose Red did not like to look at it for fear of seeing her own bare hand clutching the handle. She set her face ahead, surveying those unsearchable reaches, hoping to catch some sight of a distant shore.
How long she voyaged, she could not say. How could time be measured in this place? She felt very old and very young simultaneously. Like death and like birth.
Something flickered in the lantern light. Rose Red gazed forward and a little to her left and saw an enormous rock jutting from the lake. The little stick boat glided past it, and she saw that the rock was smooth and polished and gleaming, a pure gold stone. An altar. The sight of it made her sick, though she did not know why. She turned away and was glad when the boat sailed on and left the gold stone far behind her.
“You were always meant to be mine,” the Dragon whispered from the emptiness.