The Chronicles of Amber

He gave a thoroughly evil chuckle.

“First you have to catch me,” he said, “and I don't think you're up to it.”

At that remark, I rose and took a step toward him. The room jumped and shook. My skin seemed to be on fire. Winds howled in my ears.

I ignored everything and took another step. No matter what it cost, I wouldn't let him get the better of me. That was the difference between us. No one ever got the better of me.

“You ought to sit down,” he said hastily.

“No.” I gritted my teeth and took another step. Then another.

“You're going to fall.”

“You'd be amazed at what I can do,” I said, “when I put my mind to it.”

One foot at a time. I took another step. Everything around me swayed. That howling noise, like wind but a hundred times louder, filled my ears.

Chaos legs, indeed.

I reached for him.

Aber gulped.

Chapter 3

I don't know if it was the shock of the cold water or just getting up out of bed and moving around, but it came to me suddenly, as I was advancing with malicious intent on my brother, that I had stopped paying so much attention to the strange noises, pulsing colors, and seemingly random movements of the universe around me. Instead, by focusing all my attention on fratricide, I found myself at least beginning to compensate for the distractions around me. With effort, I could stand and walk on my own—if awkwardly and unsteadily. A small improvement, but an important one.

Aber suddenly laughed, then reached into the air, felt around for a second, and plucked a large white towel seemingly from nothingness.

“Here.” He threw the towel in my face. “You're no fun when you're wet.”

“About time you realized it.”

I shook my head like a dog caught in the rain, mindless of the way the room suddenly lurched and dipped, just to spray him with droplets. A petty revenge; I quickly regretted it.

“Hey!” He shielded his face.

That gave me some small satisfaction. Then, as I began to blot myself dry, he flopped down on one of the chairs, watching me like a hunter studying an unfamiliar beast. Somehow, I got the impression he didn't trust me not to keel over dead or unconscious at any moment. Well, he had me up, and now I had no intention of resting. Sick or not, I had to find out what I'd missed. We hadn't come here for me to waste time sleeping.

“How long was I in bed?” I demanded.

“Three days.”

“Three!” I stared at him, scarcely able to believe it. “Impossible!”

He shrugged. “We've been busy. Dad finally decided you weren't going to wake up on your own, so we spent the last three hours talking to you, shaking you, and yelling at you. You only started to respond when he told you some king needed you. Not King Uthor, I guess?”

“King Elnar. I served him in Ilerium.” I shook my head, then winced as it suddenly throbbed; the room whirled around me, then steadied a bit when I stopped moving. “I barely heard you. I was dreaming. I thought I was sailing on a ship.”

“A ship? Why?”

“This room—this place—it all feels like it's moving. It still does. But it's not, is it? It's me?”

“Afraid so, Oberon.”

I sighed. When I stayed still, the room largely stopped jumping around. Turning slowly and carefully, making no sudden movements, I found the floor seemed to glide subtly underfoot, as though trying to shift with or against me depending on which way I turned. Cold and damp and sick and altogether miserable just about summed up my condition. But for now the worst of the dizziness had passed, and with it at least some of my desire to strangle Aber.

Feeling less like a drowned dog, I threw the towel back at his head. He caught it, tossed it aside, and made it disappear with a snap of his fingers as easily as he had appeared it.

“No sleeping,” he warned me again.

“Not much chance of that with you on guard. How about some food?” I felt a yawning emptiness inside. “And wine. Lots of wine.”

“Are you sure that's wise?”

I hesitated. He was probably right.

“Okay, skip the wine. I'm starving. If you can find it, I want something plain. Bread, cheese, maybe a meat pie—whatever you can scrounge up on short notice.”

He hesitated, glancing toward the door. “The dining hall is downstairs. Dinner won't be served for another two or three hours. Do you think you can make it?”

“I… I think I'll eat here.” I wasn't ready for stairs just yet.

He reached into the air and pulled a dinner tray from nothingness, then set it on the table. Bread, cheese, a sharp knife, and a large glass of what looked like cider of some kind.

“Thanks. Join me?”

“Not yet. I—”

He broke off as a bell sounded outside. It rang three times, then grew still. From the way his brow furrowed, I didn't think it was good news.

I said, “What's the alarm for?”

“Visitors.”

“The unwelcome kind?”

“I… don't know.” He rose, took a step toward the door, paused. “Don't go to sleep,” he said ominously, “or else. There's plenty more water where that pitcher came from. I'll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“I won't go back to sleep,” I said with a chuckle, trying to appear innocent. “After three days of it, lying down is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Hmm.” He gave me a suspicious look, then shut the door. I heard his footsteps receding on the other side.

The food did look good. I carved a large chunk off the cheese and chewed it slowly. Sharp and well aged, with a slightly smoky aftertaste, it was quite delicious. I took another bite. No sense waiting for my brother if he wasn't going to eat.

The bread, warm and crusty, went well with the cheese. The cider didn't appeal to me much—it had always struck me as a child's drink unless properly laced with spirits—but it washed everything down satisfactorily.

I finished everything, then sat back, feeling full and vaguely content. No sounds came from the hall, and the bell did not ring again.

Then I heard a distant banging sound, followed by a couple of softer bangs. Doors? Windows opening to air out some long-unused parlor?

Much as I hoped for a simple, harmless explanation, doubts crept in. What was happening down there? Where had Aber gone? Why hadn't he come back?

As I listened for Aber's returning footsteps outside the door, my apprehension grew. I hated being sick and disoriented. I was used to being in control of every situation, a leader and not some helpless invalid. If anyone attacked us, I would not be able to leave this room, let alone protect Aber or fight my way clear of the building.

I strained to hear over the constant low hiss of wind. No clash of weapons nor screams from dying guards reached me. If we were under attack, wouldn't I hear something! Our visitors had to be