“That’s where we need to look, Ro,” he said excitedly.
“First, we need to find out where they’ve taken him,” she protested.
“We don’t need to, Roelle, I already know,” he shook his head. “Listen to the people around you–they’re all talking about the Dragon that the king had tethered in the arena.” He was right; they heard the locals discussing the sightings of the King’s construction crew hauling something huge, black and moving up to the Black Arena where the former Queen had performed her blood sports reminiscent of the old Roman entertainment.
“Let’s go see him first,” she said. With a lingering glance, he cornered a woman and asked directions. He was told that there were tiny carriages that would take them out to the arena for a small sum. Marcus searched his pockets and pulled out his purse to heft the substantial weight. “We’ve enough if we’re careful and I know my father has an account in the bank here. Of course, if we need to use that, they’ll find out and let the king where we are.”
The pair walked to the street corner and waited for the little wooden carts that carried passengers and were propelled much like a bicycle. Their driver was youngster, a lad with curly blonde ringlets and blue eyes. “Where to, gents?” He asked even though it was clear that Roelle was no male.
“The arena.”
“Hop in. For the two of you, it will be two royals.”
“Royals?” Marcus asked.
“Where you from?”
“Loest,” Roelle cut in.
“Amber folks. You have Amber coin? The cost is two talers.”
“Oh. I have those,” Marcus agreed and dug the coins out of his pocket. He helped Roelle into the rickety basket seat and followed. The boy pedaled furiously, twisting and turning through the streets at a pace that was faster than a trotting horse and more exhilarating. Unless of course, you had ridden on a Dragon. After a few minutes, they emerged onto a broad thoroughfare lined on both sides by tall poles that were in the process of being pulled down. The wide avenue ran for miles and there was an ugly faint stench that lingered. Roelle saw the boy swallow convulsively.
“What is this?” She asked frightened.
“The Avenue of the Skulls,” he said grimly. “Or, it used to be. King Luke is tearing the gibbets down. What you smell is the scent of death. The very stones and soil reek of the millions that died.”
“Jasra?” Roelle whispered.
“Not just her but the men she left in charge. The Black Arena saw many a death spectacle.”
“Is that why they took the beast there?”
“You heard about it? No one’s seen it, just rumors and stories. Even the soldiers who unloaded it won’t say anything. My name’s Evril.”
“Mark and Rowe,” she returned.
“What are you doing here, from Loest and Amber, I mean? Why would you want to leave the best Kingdom in all the Shadows?” They couldn’t answer him.
Chapter 15
Go and catch a falling star,
And bend it with a swimmer’s fears.
The Star that grows on Sinking Sands
The Star that swims beneath the tears.
Catch the Star that floats afar;
And bind it with the star that lands
Beneath the Seven Stars that dance.
Roelle and Marcus stood in the entrance to the great black coliseum and stared in dismay at the empty space. Nothing disturbed the vast expanse of bare sand except for a hundred or more city inhabitants who had come to view the newest spectacle only to find it just a rumor.
“There’s nothing here,” one disgruntled man said. By his clothing, he looked to be a city guard; he was in a uniform that resembled police the shades over. “No blood, no bodies, nothing.” He kicked the sand and his sandaled foot disturbed a black speck that went flying. Marcus snatched it before anyone else and closed his fist around the sharp octagonal shaped rock.
“Let’s go,” he said to Roelle. He handed her what was one of the dragon’s slipped scales, and both of them exited the arena to find the boy still waiting. “There’s nothing here,” he said disappointed and the blonde nodded.
“I could’ve told you that,” he grinned.
“Why didn’t you, then?” Roelle asked, rolling the scale in her fingers. She tucked it into her purse.
“Because I wouldn’t have gotten your fare. The beast flew off yesterday morning.”
They gaped at him. “You saw him?”
“Him?”
“You saw it?”
“Sure. It almost squashed me when it fell over down on the parade grounds,” he grinned. “Nearly shit my pants.”
“Where did it go?”
The boy pointed north to the distant mountains and they could see a faint shimmer as the sun glinted off a shiny object. “The Citadel. Where the Red Queen Sorceress lived and no one’s ever gone there and returned alive to tell about it. You want me to bring you back to town?”
“To the library, please,” Marcus said and rolled his eyes when the cheeky brat asked for two more talers.
He dropped them off in front of the library but not before Roelle had asked him about rooms to rent and was told about a nice rooming house three streets over called Mamma’s Inn. He also told Marcus he would be their personal guide and driver for a crown a day, which in Amber terms would buy a whole donkey, but to Marcus it was no more than mere pennies.
“Tomorrow? Same time?” He called before he rode off in search of other customers.
By now, it was near lunchtime and both of them sat on the lower steps of the colonnade to pull out the wrapped package that Peggotty had given them. They ate in the quiet bubble of their own company, grilled fish on sourdough buns and covered with a rich sauce. Finished it with the water-filled wineskin. There were people coming and going up the broad steps and most of them greeted the pair with open smiles. When the older man with gray hair and long robes hurried by with a distracted air, Marcus grabbed Roelle’s hand and jerked her to her feet. “C’mon,” he urged.
“What?”
“That is the librarian, or I’m a monkey’s uncle,” he said using one of Raven’s pet phrases. He followed the scholarly looking man into the portico.
“Slow down, Marcus,” she complained trying to finish her sandwich. She stuffed the remains into her pocket.
The inside was dim, quiet and filled with shelves upon shelves rising as high as the arched ceiling. Marcus had never seen so many manuscripts, not even in Amber’s Library.
They were smaller rooms off the side, chairs and lamps that lit only at a hand’s touch. Neither of them had spotted the one that the older man had scurried into but as soon as they stuck their heads into one, a youngster dressed in the same attire as the librarian stood up and approached them.
“May I help you?” He questioned.
“I am a mage in training,” Marcus explained. “My teacher sent me here to find an answer to a spell he found in a treatise.”
“So–Magic and Spells,” he said. “Column Delta, tier 2700 through 2999.” He pointed towards the back wall lost in the dark recesses of the building. Both noticed that the columns that held up the Grecian style roof were labeled with what Raven called Roman numerals and Greek letters. Delta, MMLCC and MMCMIX.
Under the appropriate column, they found shelves covered with scrolls, manuscripts and books, bound books, pamphlets and vellum. That particular location went from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Both the roof and the walls were lost to their sight high overhead. Roelle found a moving ladder that let Marcus access the upper levels but he had no clue where to start. The library clerk came out of the reference room to stare at him on the ladder.
“Where do I begin?” Marcus asked helplessly.
“Name of this spell? Wizard or spell maker?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know the ingredients?”
“Don’t know,” Marcus said hopelessly.
“What’s it do?”
“Transformation
spell. I found a scroll on a study of archaic spells written by Ozyandias,” Marcus snapped his fingers remembering the name on the few pages he and Raven had deciphered.
“Ah. A master sorcerer. Those are kept under lock and key so idiots can’t tamper or damage them. You’ll have to ask the librarian to see those,” the clerk said. “Those are the Star Riddles.”
“Can I see the librarian?” Marcus asked and the clerk frowned.
“Make an appointment tomorrow and we’ll see. Are you with a reputable wizard or mage?”
“Oh yes.”
“What’s his name?”
“Dworkin,” Marcus gulped and hoped that the name of the King’s grandfather wasn’t known outside of Amber and from the clerk’s lack of response, it seemed so.
“What’s his bent?”
“Huh?”
“Chaos or Order? Black or White Magic?” The clerk rolled his eyes as if Marcus was ignorant. “Or, you could go to the Academy of Science and Sorcery.”
Marcus perked up. “Where is it?”
“Do you know the street to the arena, the Avenue of the Skulls?” He asked cheerfully. At their twin nods, he said, “That’s where they all wound up. On the poles, dancing their last spells courtesy of the Queen and her generals. Especially the one she called Ryan.”
“Ryan?” Roelle asked.
“King Luke banished him; he was the brains behind the war. Strange looking man–he was nearly 7 foot tall with white skin and dark hair. Blue eyes and very strong. His hands were very strong; he carried some strange weapon at his side that never worked.” The boy demonstrated and because neither of them had ever seen a handgun, were as puzzled as he. “Didn’t matter, though. He used it to club people and he had a huge knife that he liked to gut or slice throats with.” The clerk shuddered. “I was glad when the king shot him.”
“Shot him?”
“With a mechanical bow and arrow. One of the new war weapons King Luke found in this very library.”
“There are no sorcerers or teachers left alive in the city?” Marcus despaired. It would take a lifetime to search the archives and records of this place.
“You could try the Palace. Maybe the king would grant you an interview and let you in their library.” He snickered looking over the commonly dressed pair. “Good luck with that.”
Just as they turned to leave, the librarian approached. “Oh, there you are, Stacks. I need you to reach tier 200 and bring me the scroll for medicinal riddles.” The older man surveyed the two young people. “Oh, hello. Stacks helping you find things?”
“Well no,” Roelle chirped pushing Marcus back. “You see, our master sent us here to find an obscure treatise on a transformation spell. We can’t find it nor can…Stacks. I’m afraid he wasn’t much help. Maybe we can help each other. I know herbs and potions.”
He smiled condescendingly. “I have a face but cannot see, take me to knit bones free. I bring good dreams to you and me; I am the flower that grows near sea.”
Roelle smiled. “That’s too easy. Sunflower, boneset, chamomile and star anise.”
The librarian shut his mouth. Snorted. Mumbled under his breath. “My name is Lykian, Head Scholar and Librarian. Newly appointed to the job as the former Presidia of the city killed all of my superiors. Maybe I can help you. Stacks, bring these two…?”
“Roelle and Marcus,” she offered taking his hand to grasp it lightly.
“Take them into my study room, bring tea and crumpets and then meet me in the old Pandemonium.”
“Yes my Lord. Come this way, please.” Roelle and Marcus followed the clerk a long winding way through the columns to reach a doorway situated at the beginning of a long corridor that descended at a slow angle. Cold self-lit torches lined the high brick walls and kept illumination at a soft twilight. They could not see the ceiling above them. Emerging into bright sunlight that nearly blinded them, both exclaimed at the tiny courtyard surrounded on all sides with marble columns and walls yet the sun shone straight in. Flowers and small trees were abundant as well as grass under their feet. It even had a spring that bubbled up into a fountain. A fountain of a Unicorn. Books were scattered everywhere, scrolls tumbled on the table, were on chairs and benches in piles stacked haphazardly that looked as if they would fall with the slightest whisper of wind.
“Do you have to clean this mess up when it rains?” Marcus gaped. It would take a dozen servants the better part of a half day to clean them.
“It doesn’t rain in here. There’s a spell on the oculus above that diverts rain to the cisterns. Find a place to sit and I’ll bring tea. Don’t touch anything.” With that admonition, he disappeared.
Fifteen minutes dragged by which if you were an inquisitive teenager was a long time to keep your nose out of things. Luckily, whenever Marcus found his hand stealing towards a moth-eaten parchment, Roelle kicked him. He was rubbing his shins and scowling ferociously when the clerk returned with an enormous copper tray loaded with a teapot, cups, a plate of cookies and hearty sandwiches. The smells set Marcus’ stomach to growling and Roelle’s, too.
“Toss the stuff on the table to the floor,” Stacks ordered groaning as they hastily swept the triangle shaped table free of impediments. He laid the tray down with a heartfelt sigh of relief just as the librarian returned pushing a cart loaded with tomes. You could hear him coming long before he arrived by the noise of the squeaky wheels that preceded him.
“I oiled that thing a million times,” Stacks grumbled. Marcus offered to fix it with a spell and the clerk looked shocked. “Hell no,” he sputtered. “None of us would hear him coming!”
Roelle snickered and the three of them shared a chuckle, teens against a grown up. As he entered the courtyard, there was a flare of magic that Marcus felt as if the room was aware of the presence of spells and magicks entering. Lykian pushed the cart near Stacks and the group settled down for an elegantly composed tea party that was anything but a nerve-racking interlude for the pair. They were able to relax for the first time since Raven had disappeared.
Chapter 16
Corwin looked at Pire and the Captain. All three had been accepted promptly into the ranks of Luke’s soldiers, especially when they demonstrated their sword skills. Lambrecht was clearly skilled at archery, handling the short mounted bow with a speed and accuracy that astonished the Prince.
“My sister is even better,” he said proudly. He pulled at the loose, baggy trousers that were the newly designed uniform of the ‘Army’. Maroon and yellow, streaked much like the surrounding foliage, no fancy buckles, and gold braid or stylized animals. Just his name painted on the breast pocket and his rank on the shoulder. Patches of a snarling cat. A web belt with a flat buckle that contained a lodestone, garroting wire and a sharp blade. Pockets everywhere, which the pair liked because it made it handy to carry knives, flints and the other assorted paraphernalia that got lost in saddlebags or bedrolls. Boots that laced halfway up the legs and were as comfortable to walk in as well as a good heel for riding. Although, secretly Rouen loved his cavalry boots.
“I see the influence of Luke’s shadow life,” Corwin grinned. “Uncle Sam in Khafra. Although maroon and orange camouflage just doesn’t look right.” He sheathed Grayswandir while the pair practiced with the shorter blades issued to them.
No one had ordered them to quarters or to practice, they milled about with the other new recruits until a sergeant bellowed at them to follow. “Hopeless morons,” he muttered under his breath as his eyes lit on the three. “You, there. What your name?”
“Corey.”
“You ever lead a squad?”
“Yes,” the Prince answered, leader of a failed coup against his brother Eric.
“Pick out ten men you think will stay on a horse, can track and aren’t afraid to die when they come up against a witch, a dragon and a sorcerer.”
“Pire, Rouen,” he pointed and chose seven more judging by the cut of their shoulders, eyes and weapons.
The Sergeant brought the group
to the long low building shaped like a stables and on three sides of what looked like a sand arena. Men-at-arms were practicing inside working at the butts, shooting arrows and hand-to-hand combat. All stopped to watch the new group approach. The Sergeant sent all the men save the new squad to the last barracks. “Those are yours. There’s a corporal in charge, he’ll get you sorted out. The rest of you, we’re going to meet the king.” He turned on his heel and marched back towards the palace. After a moment’s hesitation, the newly formed squad joined him.
The palace was quiet and well-guarded. They were stopped and challenged at least ten times giving the trio ample time to study their surroundings. The palace was built in an open courtyard style, an inner ring that was guarded by five outer rings. They never made it past the third ring and were asked to wait in a large chamber that was cool, painted a pale green and had many potted plants lining the walls. Murals of dancing maidens and flute playing boys painted on the stucco. The ceilings were carved plaster and featured sea creatures from real to fanciful. The doorways sealed with strings of white beads that chimed when someone went through them.
The men stood at attention. Instinctively Corwin had managed to pick out all the ones who had seen some military experience. They knew instantly that the man in the well-worn uniform was a high-ranking officer. He scanned the squad quickly and then spoke to the Sergeant.
“At ease, men. Sergeant Gleener, you may wait outside.” The sergeant saluted and back stepped into the hallway.
The officer was tall with white hair still thick, piercing light blue eyes and only one arm. He was handsome with thick laugh lines at his eyes and others bracketing a mouth that had a tendency to curve up at the corners. “I am General Cathorian, head of King Luke’s new army. You men have volunteered for a special, important mission for the king.” He eyed Corwin. “You’re the Captain? What campaigns have you fought in?”
“Montalvo Bay, Wyvern’s Pass, the battle for the Lighthouse at Cabra,” Corwin named the major battles for Amber’s throne and the General reared back in surprise.
Black Dragon of Amber Book Two: The Road to Amber Page 9
