I kept the Pattern in my mind, visualizing it as I sketched a large rectangle, then a line drawing of Freda. I was no artist—far worse than Dad—but it came out reasonably well. I recognized Freda's face, from her hair and upturned chin to the slight dimples in her cheeks.
The power of my Trump hit me in a wave.
“It's burning!” Blaise whispered.
I gulped in panic. But she neither turned black nor burst into flames.
“Get Freda,” Dad told me urgently. “Hurry—”
I leaned forward, concentrating on the picture I had drawn. Slowly it came to life, becoming a window through Blaise's back. There, surrounded by more gray, I saw Freda huddled with her head in her hands, sobbing softly. Her cries matching the snuffling noises we still heard echoing around us.
“Freda!” I called. Was she injured? Could she hear me? “Freda! Over here!”
I reached farther into Blaise's back and chest. My wrist and elbow went through. Blaise moaned. I reached up to my bicep, then to my shoulder. Distantly, I noted Dad gripping my sister's arms, holding her upright and steady.
“
Finally she looked up. “Oberon? Is that you?”
“Take my hand. Quickly!”
She reached for me. As our fingers touched, a spark leaped between us. Blaise gave another plaintive cry and started to sag. Despite the burning in my fingertips, I seized Freda's wrist and pulled hard.
She came out through Blaise's back smoothly, straight into my arms. I went over backward with her elbows and knees digging into my soft parts. But I didn't care—we had done it! She was free!
Then lights flared around us. I pressed my eyes shut. Another trap? Or—
My stomach knotted in sudden fear. Blaise! Had she just burned up, like the Trump?
I opened my eyes, blinking frantically at the colored spots swimming before my eyes. Slowly my vision returned to normal.
The fog had disappeared. We were in an unfurnished room—bare panel walls, plank flooring, a high beamed ceiling.
And Blaise—still there, still alive, with her blouse down over her back. The magic had ended. We were all safe.
Dad helped Blaise up; I helped Freda. She hugged me desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks, and then she hugged Dad and Blaise. She smiled at us through her tears.
“I knew you would come!” she said. She clung to my arm. Her whole body shook uncontrollably.
“Of course we came,” I said. “How could we not?”
“I never gave up hope.”
I smiled and brushed a stray lock of hair off her face. “Let's go. Aber is waiting for us at an inn.”
When I pulled out Aber's Trump, Dad thrust his hand over the card, blocking it.
“No,” he said. “Thellops will destroy it. Save it for use in Shadow.”
“Then how do we get out?” I asked. “Should I draw another Pattern-Trump? Or will you?”
“Too late, too late!” he cried, looking toward the door, an expression of sudden horror on his face. “Listen!
Chapter 13
An uncontrollable shiver went through me. From somewhere outside, I heard a low thump… thump… thump sound. Its force vibrated through the floor and into the soles of my boots. Something was coming. Something
I swallowed hard and glanced at Dad. “What do we do?” I asked.
He smiled almost philosophically. “We die.”
“You made it out alive last time.”
“We met at the Edge, where shadows of Chaos and the Pattern meet.”
“Neutral territory,” I said.
He nodded. “Terrible things are happening in Chaos. He has finally taken sides. When I told him I wanted Freda back, he… tried to destroy me. I barely escaped. Here, in his home, with the Logrus close at hand…” He swallowed. “His powers will be ten times greater.”
“A cornered rat is the most dangerous,” I said. “He would be wise to let us go.”
“Oberon the door!” Dad called.
The face appeared on the inside of the door. “Yes, master?”
“Do not open for Thellops!”
It frowned, but said, “I will obey, though it costs me my life…”
And abruptly the noise stopped. Thellops had reached the door. The door moaned and shook as terrible blows rained down on its other side. The wood began to splinter.
Blaise had dropped her sword. I snatched it up and ran straight toward the door.
“No!” Dad called. “You must not!”
They expected me to fling the door open and face Thellops in some last heroic gesture. But that was the last thing I had in mind. I knew I would lose any fight with Thellops. Tired, still disoriented and off-balance—how could I possibly face a master-sorcerer of Chaos?
I summoned an image of the Pattern to my mind. I wrapped myself in it. I coiled it around Blaise's sword. The air around me sang with power.
The door began to scream as its wood splintered. Throwing all my weight behind the blow, I drove Blaise's sword into the wooden face, through its gaping mouth. The Pattern hummed with power. The face screamed. Three feet of tempered steel penetrated the wood—and kept going through it and out the other side.
I felt a rough jolt as my Pattern-wrapped blade hit something on the other side. Thellops? I hoped so. The blade kept going another foot. Not even a Lord of Chaos could live through a foot of steel in his heart.
Releasing the hilt, I stepped back. Slowly I let the Pattern fade away.
The door was dead now, its wooden face frozen in a scream of pain and horror. A dreadful silence came from the other side. Time seemed to stand still. When I glanced back at Dad, Freda, and Blaise, I found all three staring with horrorstruck expressions.
Then I turned, grasped the sword, and pulled. The steel almost sang as it slid free. Its hilt tingled in my hand, and I realized it had somehow been changed—though whether the Pattern, the door, or Thellops had done it remained a mystery.
As I raised the sword, I heard the soft thud of a body falling on the other side. A gush of dark blood suddenly flooded under the door. I danced back, just managing to keep my boots dry.
I wiped the blade clean on my shirt's tail, then handed it back to Blaise. Dad was staring at me with an unbelieving expression on his face.
“How…” he whispered.
“I'm not as weak as you think, Dad.” I left it at that.
Pulling out my Trumps, I found Aber's, raised it, and concentrated. A moment later, he answered. He was sitting in a huge round bathtub, surrounded by mountains of bubbles and three of the most beautiful women I had ever seen before. Clearly, he had wasted no time in abandoning the inn where we'd left him.
“That didn't take long!” he said cheerfully. He stepped out of the tub and put on a robe. “I assume, since I see Freda behind you, that you met with success?”
I grinned. “Bring us back,” I said. “And prepare for the celebration of a lifetime!”
