The Chronicles of Amber

“Ignore your senses,” he said. “No sight, no sound, no smell nor touch nor taste. You should feel a slight tugging inside… as though you're standing in a river while the waters push through your body.”

I remained still, scarcely breathing. My heart beat in my chest. Air whispered through my nose and throat. That low, throaty roar of phantom winds sounded distantly in my ears.

Then, gradually, I became aware of a curious sensation… a gentle pull not so much on my body as on my spirit, as though some unknown force tried to draw me closer.

I turned with it, trying to find the direction it wanted me to go. Yes—I had it now. It was unmistakable.

I opened my eyes and pointed toward the gate.

“That way.”

Aber looked startled.

“No,” he said. “That's not right.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded. “I can feel it! It's pulling me.”

“You have it backwards.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “The pull toward the Courts of Chaos goes that way.”

I turned and stared in the direction he indicated, back toward our family's towering house. No, I was certain I didn't want to go back there. Turning, trying to find where the pull was strongest, I found myself facing the gate again. The Courts of Chaos definitely held no pull for me. Clearly this psychic tug came from something else… something in the other direction.

I told him as much.

“I don't understand,” he said, frowning. “But then, there's a lot I don't understand about you, Brother.”

Shrugging, I said, “Sorry. What you see is all there is.”

“I think not.” His eyes narrowed, studying me. “There is more to you, I think, than you even know yourself. But let's talk of other things now. Come on, I'll show you around the grounds. The gardens are nice.”

“Nice?”

“If you like rocks.”

Chuckling, he led the way, and I had a feeling he was about to play another of his famous practical jokes on me. We followed the wall to the right, away from the drilling men-at-arms. The house loomed over us, huge and windowless, oozing bright colors from every seam and joint.

A few blackened, twisted treelike plants grew from the soil, and their branches moved even though no wind blew. They seemed to sense our passage, and several times I jumped when branches whipped close to my face. Aber just ignored them and kept walking.

Rounding a corner of the house, we came into sight of the “garden”—a penned area where rocks roamed through knee-high grass at will, looking like petrified sheep. The rocks ranged from head-sized to bigger than a man, and now and again they banged into one another with loud crashing sounds. Benches set around the pen made it seem like rock-watching might be considered pleasurable here.

Aber went right up to the fence and leaned on it, staring out across the field. He seemed to recognize some of the rocks and actually began pointing out his favorites:

“That's Jasmine. And that one's Teal.”

“You've named them?” I stared at him like he'd lost his mind. He had to be playing a joke on me. Who had time for such nonsense with our family being murdered and our father gone missing?

He seemed to realize how I felt, since he sighed and shrugged and wouldn't look me in the eye.

“It's not for everyone,” he said. “You have to be sensitive to their presence to appreciate the beauty. It's like… it's like poetry!”

I rolled my eyes. “Then it must be an acquired taste,” I said. “But don't feel bad. I only have one use for poetry, and that's to help get beautiful women into my bed.”

“You're just like Locke.” Sighing again, Aber turned and walked on alongside the fence.

“No need to be insulting!” I hurried to catch up. “Or should I take that as a compliment?”

Flatly, he replied, “There's more to see ahead, around the corner.”

“Not more rocks?”

“No… fountains, Pella's flower garden, a petrified dragon.”

“A dragon!” I felt my heart quicken. They were creatures of legend. I'd heard stories of them my whole life.

“Yes, Locke killed it years ago. It took twenty mules and twice that many men to cart it back here. But it's a trophy worth keeping.”

“How did Locke kill it?”

“He showed it a medusa's head.”

Awed, my estimation of Locke went up yet another notch. I'd known my brother was an able military officer and a skilled swordsman, but I'd had no idea he'd gone adventuring.

“All right,” I said. “I have to know. How did he get a medusa's head?”

“I'm not really sure… he said something about a labyrinth and a golden fleece.”

I shrugged.

Aber went on, “Want to see what my mother looked like? There's a statue of her there, too. I'm told it's a good resemblance.”

“Sure.” Statues, at least, I could appreciate. But a dragon, even a petrified one, couldn't be missed.

My sudden enthusiasm seemed to cheer him up. As we walked, he kept gazing into the rock pen. Boulders small and large drifted in an intricate dance. He honestly seemed to enjoy them, like a falconer admiring his birds or a hunter showing off his hounds. And why shouldn't he? In Juniper he had been trapped in a house filled with squabbling siblings and a paranoid drunkard of a father, a mysterious enemy had been systematically murdering family members, and we were under siege from an army determined to slaughter us all to the last one. Here, at least for the moment, we appeared safe. He could relax and be himself.

“Hey! Look at that!” He stopped short and pointed at the two largest hump-backed rocks, which now circled each other like wolves in the center of the pen. “They're going to fight!”

“A fight?” I stopped and regarded them. “How can you tell?”

“Experience! Watch!”

Sighing, I leaned on the fence beside him. The two boulders wheeled and spun and circled in an intricate dance, drew apart, then suddenly raced towards each other faster than a man could run. When they struck with a loud crack!, rock chips and dust flew into the air. Then, as they drew apart, I noticed that the larger of the two had a crack running down its middle. It split in two, and each half moved off in a different direction.

Aber groaned in disappointment. “They don't usually hit that hard,” he said. “One usually backs down.”

“They look dangerous,” I said.

“Not really. If you're careful. You can even ride them, if you want. It's fun.”

I shook my head. Strange as the house seemed, everything inside looked normal by comparison. A deep sense of melancholy spread through me. I longed for Ilerium or Juniper, where I knew the rules and nothing fantastic waited around each corner to jump out at me.

Deep-blue lightning flickered overhead, bright enough to draw my attention. Then bright tongues of blue light split the sky, and a growl of thunder rumbled close at hand.

“A storm?” I asked.

He hesitated, looking up. “I don't know. I've never seen anything quite like this before.”

“Maybe we'd better get inside,” I suggested. The dragon could wait; since it was petrified, it wouldn't be going anywhere. Besides, I remembered the attack on our forces in Juniper. It had started with a storm. Our enemies had directed lightning bolts down on top of us, shattering the upper floors of Juniper Castle and killing dozens of people.

“I think we'd better,” Aber said. Turning, he headed back toward the courtyard. I hurried to keep up.

Then a finger of lightning lanced down from the sky, hitting the ground twenty feet away. Sand peppered my face and hands. I threw up my arms to protect my eyes.

“Run!” Aber screamed.