The Chronicles of Amber

“Look behind you,” I whispered.

He started to glance back, then thought better of it—it was an old trick, I had to admit. Instead, with his smirk growing broader, he raised his sword for a killing blow.

With one swing, my father struck Ulyanash's head from his shoulders. Blood sprayed across me, then began to drift up toward the sky. His body hit the ground with a dull thump.

“I came as soon as I could,” my father said. He bent to clean his blade on Ulyanash's shirt. “Are you all right, my boy? Are you up for more work tonight? I need you.”

“His sword was poisoned.” I gave a pained grimace. “He nicked me. I think I'm…”

And I felt myself collapse.

Chapter 27

I awoke slowly, feeling stiff. Sunlight came through an open window, showing a pleasant enough room. Whitewashed walls, long narrow bed, wooden floor. Outside, birds sang. We were in Shadow somewhere. “Dad?” I called.

No answer. It seemed I'd been abandoned again. My shoulder had been bandaged. I sat up and pulled away the dressing, discovering fresh pink skin over the wound. Apparently I'd been here a few days. The knife wound in my arm had also healed. I washed up, dressed, and went into the next room. A small table sat waiting for me, along with a basket of cold bread, a bottle of red wine, and a note. The note said:

I have urgent business in another Shadow. Time runs very fast here, so it will probably be a few days before I return. Get your strength back. I need your help.

The note wasn't signed.

I ate slowly. The crusty brown bread had gone a bit stale, but the wine more than made up for it.

As I chewed, I began to have a strange sensation of being watched. I remembered the serpent-creature who had used Taine's blood to scry upon me... Lord Zon, Ulyanash had named him. Zon might well be spying on me now and cursing the day I had come to the Courts of Chaos. Hopefully he had lost one of his chief lieutenants in Ulyanash.

The Pattern within me seemed to have special properties. Let's see how I could use them.

With the bread knife, I began to carve an image of the Pattern into the table before me. As I did, my sight seemed to drift away from the reality of here and now. I saw dark lines, threads of energy, rising from the table. They formed an image of the Pattern, slowly spinning in mid air. I willed it up, up, larger and larger, surrounding and protecting me.

Suddenly, like a door closing, my sense of being watched came to and end. Whatever connection Lord Zon had made between Taine's blood and me, between the tower of skulls and this little cottage, had been broken.

I let the Pattern go, and it fell apart. The carving became just scratches on the tabletop, no more. My breathing relaxed. Goodone problem had been taken care of.

It seemed I, too, could command some real magic—untrained though I might be. I could at the very least protect myself from being spied upon.

My use of the Pattern further confirmed my suspicions… Dad had allied himself with some power other than the Logrus. And he had given the gift of its Pattern to me… though where the Jewel of Judgment fit into it all, I couldn't yet say.

I sighed. Our enemies wouldn't wait. I couldn't sit around this cottage waiting for Dad to return. My every action had been well rewarded thus far… from the party at Aunt Lanara's house to the fight with Ulyanash. Of course, I reminded myself, I would have died if not for Dad's timely intervention… but wasn't that what parents were for?

It was time to take the battle to Lord Zon and his tower. I had been there often enough in my dreams. I knew what it looked like. Now it was my turn to try drawing a Trump.

Bending, I dipped my index finger into my cup of wine, then rose and crossed to the nearest whitewashed wall. My brother Aber always drew a representation of the Logrus beneath the images he painted on Trumps. Our father had told me it wasn't necessary; he could do it by simply keeping the Logrus fixed in his mind while he worked. I could not draw on the Logrus, as I had never ventured into it, but the Pattern within me seemed to have many of the same powers.

I summoned a mental image of the Pattern and began to sketch the tower of skulls… from the inside. I showed the altar slab, the winding staircase of leg bones, the doorway through which hell-creatures had dragged my brothers to be tortured. The image took on an aliveness, a sense of reality and immediacy, despite being pale pink lines on the wall. Whenever I willed it, I knew I could bring the image to life and step through.

Then, licking wine from my finger, I stepped back. Yes, it would do. Crude though it was, I really had created a Trump. I knew it would work.

Retrieving my sword from the bedroom, I found the pen and ink my father had used, left him my thanks on the back of the note he'd left me, and told him I had gone to rescue Taine from the tower of skulls. I would return home to our house in the Beyond if successful. If not… he should try to contact me via Trump and bring me back directly.

Then I turned to the picture I had sketched on the wall, concentrating. Slowly, I felt it coming to life before me. It grew darker, blacks and browns emerging… lengthening shadows… the altar block… the circling stairway of bones… the entrance through which prisoners came…

Like a doorway, it filled the wall.

Hefting my sword, I stepped through.

The inside of the tower proved to be deserted. I knew it from the way my footsteps echoed; the shadows where I had previously seen Lord Zon remained empty. I no longer felt that malevolent presence there.

I crept up to the shadowy doorway and peered into a narrow corridor that circled down. A single torch lit the way, its light bubbling up to pool on the ceiling. Pausing, I listened, but heard nothing… no rustle of leather, no clink of armor, nor even the moans of prisoners.

I started forward, treading softly, sword ready. It couldn't possibly be this easy to rescue Taine.

The passageway descended. I came to a line of doors, all of them closed. Cells? I unbarred the first one and pushed it open, revealing a dark, tiny room scarcely large enough to lie down in. A skeleton lay chained in the far corner, its bones showing signs of having been gnawed. A few tatters of clothing remained, but nothing to tell me who it had been. Hopefully not one of my missing brothers or sisters.

The next two cells were empty.

The fourth cell held Taine. I rushed to his side. Still alive—?

He was not chained, but lay on a pile of straw against the far wall. His bare chest and arms were covered with scabbed-over sores and cuts, just as I had seen in my last spirit-voyage here. A yellow crust covered his eyes. For a second I thought he might be dead, but then as I bent over him and my shadow covered his face, he moaned and tried to push me away.

“Lie still,” I said softly. “I'm your brother Oberon. I'm here to rescue you.”

He began to thrash and cry out wordlessly. Clearly he was beyond reason. Luckily his strength was gone; his blows were like a child's. I pinned his arms with one hand, then picked him up and threw him over my shoulder. He was curiously light—he had to weigh less than a hundred pounds now, starved as he was to skin and bones—and I had no trouble carrying him.

When I turned to leave, however, the room darkened. Half a dozen guards filled the doorway, blocking out the torch light. They all held swords at the ready.

I swallowed and raised my own weapon. It would be a challenge to cut my way through them while protecting Taine.

Instead of trying to fight me, however, they slammed the door shut. I heard the bar dropping into place.

Darkness surrounded me. I had a terrible, sinking feeling inside. Taine moaned.