long forgotten—
Slowly, in the air before me, a pattern began to form, full of elegant sweeps and curves, loops and switchbacks, a twisting geometry like something I might have seen long ago in a forgotten dream. Blue sparks drifted around me. Through everything I could just make out Dworkin’s form, hands raised as he traced the pattern between us with his fingertips. Where he touched it, it took on a ruby glow.
Still the memories surged, more faces, more battles, more times long gone. Faster and faster they came, all blurred together now, and the whistle in the back of my head became an unimaginable screech of sound that tore through my skull. My eyes burned. My skin crawled. I tried to leap out of that seat, to get away from Dworkin’s machine, but I couldn’t move my arms or legs. When I opened my mouth to beg Dworkin to stop, the only sound was an agonized scream.
The machine was killing me.
I tried to block it from my thoughts, but it only hummed louder. Squeezing my eyes shut, I felt my thoughts shredding, the memories fleeing, all thoughts now impossible, only pain—pain—
I gasped like a fish out of water, tried to breathe. Blackness fell like a stone.
Chapter 9
Ilerium, under the thrall of hell-creatures…
The Courts of Chaos, just like on Freda’s card, the air overhead pulsating with those weird lightning- patterns, while all around me the buildings moved like living creatures and corners turned in on themselves with angles that couldn’t possibly exist but somehow did…
Then worlds of vast deserts, endless oceans, and virgin forests where no man had or ever would set foot…
Deserts and swamps…
Cities buzzing with movement like the hives of bees… Wind-scoured rocks with no sign of water or life…
I felt a chill, a remembered feeling of hate and loathing surging up inside. That voice—I had heard that voice before!
Against my will, I found myself drawn forward like a moth to its flame. I soared through blackness, through vast cold and dark distances, to a world of strange colors. Patterns turned in the air, odd shapes and geometries that drifted like snowflakes, patterns within patterns within patterns. My vision began to brighten, then dim.
Slowly, I turned and discovered a tower built entirely of skulls. A grim shock of recognition swept through me. I had been here before, I thought, long ago.
I could not resist the voice. Like a phantom, I passed through the tower’s wall. A stairway of arm and leg bones circled the inside wall, ascending into shadows, descending into a murky, pulsating redness.
I drifted down. The redness became the flickering glow of torches. They showed an eerily familiar scene, guards in armor who surrounded an immense stone altar. And on that altar a body lay chained and bleeding…
Though his face had become gaunt and gray, and he looked ten years older, I still recognized my new brother from the Trump in Freda’s deck. He had a dueling scar on his left cheek just as Aber had drawn it. And he had Dworkin’s face… more so now than when his portrait had been done.
Naked and blood-smeared, he lay spread-eagle on the stone slab. But he lived. As I stared at him, I saw his chest rising and falling steadily.
His arms and legs had been heavily chained, and dozens of long, shallow knife wounds—some days or weeks old, some clearly fresh—marred the smoothness of his arms and face. His captors had made an effort to keep him alive, I thought. While clearly painful, none of the wounds appeared life-threatening. The real risk would come later from infection.
Blood still seeped from the most recent wounds, but instead of falling toward the floor, drops of scarlet floated
In many of those windows, I glimpsed Juniper and the army camp that surrounded it.
Suddenly everything in the tower grew flat, muted, distant. The colors washed out; the world around me began pulling back like a sudden outrushing tide. The tower of skulls—this world of strange geometries—receding into darkness—
Abruptly I found myself back in my body. It was a shock, like leaping into an icy lake, and I gasped.
“
I sat up, sputtering, liquid fire in my mouth and throat.
“What—” I tried to say. It came out as a muffled “
Opening bleary eyes, I found Dworkin crouched over me. He held a small silver cup, which he pressed to my lips. This time when he poured, I tasted brandy, old and smooth.
What had he done to me?
My whole body ached and refused to obey my commands. My hands shook. When I tried to push him away and sit up, I flailed like a fish out of water.
“Taine…” I gasped.
Dworkin jerked, spilling the brandy all over us both.
“What?” he demanded. “What did you say?”
I took a deep breath and summoned my strength. Raising one hand, I pushed him away. My limbs felt numb and weak, like all the blood had drained from my body and been replaced with lead. Rolling over onto my hands and knees took intense effort, but I managed it.
The room swayed dangerously. Grasping the edge of the closest table, I stood.
“Where… ?” I tried to ask. It came out more or less right.
“Give yourself time to recover, my boy,” he said. “You went through a difficult test.”
I frowned. “Yes… I… remember.”
As I sat on the edge of the table, trying to recover my sense of balance, he pressed the cup into my hands. Gingerly I took another sip.
“I know what I did was… difficult for you. But it had to be done.”
“What… had to be done?” I levered myself up on my elbows, sick and dizzy inside.
“I looked within you, within your essence. Turned you inside out, saw what needed to be seen, then put you back together.”
“My head hurts.” Groaning a little, I pressed my eyes shut and rubbed them. What felt like thousands of little needles piercing my skull resolved itself into the sort of headache I’d only had after a night of cheap rot-gut and too many women.
“Oberon…” He hesitated.
I forced open my eyes and gazed blearily up at him.
“You said something just now. It sounded like a name.”
“Taine,” I said, remembering my dream.
“What about him?”
“He’s hurt.”
