“I agree. And if it means peace… if it means we can return home to Chaos…”
I nodded. I had pretty much decided the same way. Their opinions confirmed it.
I opened the doors and went back inside. Uthor rose. “Very well,” I said. “I accept your offer. Let there be peace between us. Together—together, we will defeat Zon and reclaim Chaos for you!”
Chapter 27
There were papers to be drawn and signed, sacred vows to be made, and oaths of mutual defense to be sworn. The three of us—Dad, Uthor, and I—worked throughout the night on the details, haggling, negotiating, compromising.
Finally, just before dawn, we had our agreement.
Simply put, in exchange for military and tactical support of King Uthor, our whole family would receive an official pardon from the king. Our family's confiscated lands in the Beyond and all former titles would be restored. Any family members still alive in the king's dungeons would be freed.
And, most important of all, Amber—and all its Shadows—would continue to exist under my sole rule— provided no more Shadow-storms struck Chaos.
Chaos and Amber would be separate… and equal.
It seemed too good to be true. And as I regarded King Uthor across the table, preparing to sign the last of the documents, I stroked my spikard ring and wondered that it did not pulse in warning.
Perhaps, as Dad said, Uthor really was a man of his word. I certainly hoped so.
He finished signing the paper with a flourish, then passed the pen to me. It still had sufficient ink in the nib, so I signed next to him. Then I used a signet Dad had provided, showing a unicorn, and Uthor did the same with his, which showed a griffin.
We both rose. He did not offer to shake hands. Neither did I.
“I will bring my army to your camp at noon,” I told him. “And together we will march on Chaos.”
“Until then.” He nodded to me. “Iart! Snell!” he called to his men. Turning, the three of them strode from the room.
I leaned back in my seat, feeling exhausted but triumphant. We had done it. Amber would be safe.
Dad leaned forward. “Do not rest easily,” he said. “Zon Swayvil holds the throne now. It will be difficult to dislodge him.”
“One enemy at a time,” I said, grinning. Nothing could dampen my enthusiasm today. “With Uthor on our side… and our combined forces… of course we will restore the rightful King of Chaos! How can we fail?”
“I hope not…” His eyes grew distant.
It took most of the next morning for King Aslom's forces to break camp. Fortunately they were seasoned veterans and well organized. They broke their camp quickly, loading their pack-animals and wagons, then with Aslom and his sons in their battle chariots, the cavalry mounted, and the footmen in ranks, we marched.
Conner and I took the lead again, and he moved us through Shadow. This time, though, we would come around to the other side of Uthor's valley, making camp in whatever fields we could find.
It was a long, hot, dusty trip, broken twice for meals and rest. But as evening approached, the Shadows grew true, and I knew we were close.
Three of Uthor's scouts rode out on black warhorses to meet us. All three were hell-creatures… the
“King Oberon,” said the one in the lead, who wore a lieutenant's insignia at his collar. “I am Nox. I will be your liaison to the king's staff.” His words were polite, though his tone showed scorn. “Your warriors are to camp north of here. My men will show them the way. I am to escort you to the king immediately.”
“Very well.” Again, I wished I had thought to bring a crown of my own. Too many details to remember… I would have to find a secretary at some point to manage such things.
“I'll take the men and get them settled in,” Conner quickly offered.
“Thanks. Aslom! Haetor!” I called. A king could not enter another's camp unescorted. “You will come with me.”
“Yes, Oberon!” they both cried. They steered their chariots forward, bumping across the rough ground.
“Lead on,” I said to Nox.
Without a word, he wheeled his black stallion and headed for the valley where Uthor's forces were camped. As we followed, I heard Conner shouting orders to our men.
As we entered the long rows of tents, which seethed with movement as Uthor's men hurried through their duties, I heard a familiar voice calling my name from somewhere behind us. I craned around in the saddle and spotted Aber riding quickly toward me. He wore no armor and carried no sword; clearly duty hadn't called him here.
“My brother,” I said to Nox.
He grunted and shrugged. Clearly he didn't care one way or another if Aber joined us.
My brother was out of breath when he finally caught up, bent over and gasping for air.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“I have a message from Freda,” he said in a low voice. “A prophecy. King Uthor's life is in grave danger.”
I shook my head in bewilderment. “We're about to ride into battle against Lord Zon—of course his life is in danger. So is mine!”
“No! You don't understand!” He shook his head. “Uthor won't live to see the battle. You must let me talk to him. I have something for him—a ring. It will help protect him.”
A ring? A spikard, maybe? I remembered how mine had warned me against the assassin in Amber. It couldn't hurt, and it might further cement our alliance.
“All right,” I said. “I'll present you to him when we get there.”
“Good. Freda said you'd help,” Aber went on. “She saw it in the cards.”
“Not that again.” I rolled my eyes. “I'm half minded to say no, just to prove to you once and for all that nothing is shown in her cards but what we make of it.”
“She knew you'd say that. And she knew you'd let me through anyway, because you're playing with the King of Chaos's life. Uthor
I sighed. He had a point.
“I already said I'd present you.”
We were almost at the center of the camp. Here the press of Uthor's forces kept our pace slow and deliberate; several times we had to wait while wagons full of supplies trundled past.
Finally, though, we reached a series of huge pavilions. Aber and I dismounted and gave our horses' reins to waiting attendants. Flanked by Aslom and Haetor, we followed Nox past lines of guards standing rigidly at attention and into the central area, which had a throne and lines of supplicants waiting to consult with Uthor.
As soon as he spotted us, though, he motioned us forward. He looked old and tired suddenly. Clearly the strain of his struggle against Lord Zon had begun to tell on him.
“Your arrival is most timely,” he said. “Good. The dispatches from home are not promising. We must move swiftly.”
“How soon?” I asked.
“Tomorrow.”
I nodded slowly. “Very well. We are ready and will await your command.”
Aber cleared his throat.
“Ah… my brother has a warning for you from my sister,” I said. “She has some talent in future-telling.”
“The Lady Freda?” He leaned forward, looking at Aber with interest. “Speak. She has a true gift, I know. Any warning she sends will be given proper weight.”
