I paused to catch my breath.
“It’s such an arcane matter that I don’t even feel qualified to speculate on it. I thought maybe you’d come equipped with ready-made answers for things like that — some sort of preternatural awareness of your limits and abilities.”
“Afraid not. Unless you’d call a hunch preternatural.”
“I suppose I would if you were right often enough.”
“Shit. It’s too soon to tell.”
“Shit. You’re right.”
Soon we’d climbed above the line of haze from which the flakes seemed to fall. A little farther, and the winds died to breezes. Farther still, and these subsided to nothing. The rim was in sight by then, and shortly thereafter we achieved it.
I turned and looked back down. All I could see was a bit of glitter through the mist. In the other direction our trail ran on in a zigzag fashion, here and there looking like a series of Morse dashes — regular interruptions, possibly rock formations. We followed it to the right until it turned left.
I reserved some attention for Jurt, looking for signs of recognition at any feature of the terrain. A talk is only words, and he was still some version of the Jurt I’d grown up with. And if he became responsible for my falling into any sort of trap, I was going to pass Grayswandir through his personal space as soon as I became aware of it.
Flicker…
Formation to the left, cavelike, as if the hole in the rock opened into another reality. An oddly shaped car driving up a steep city street…
“What…?” Jurt began.
“I still don’t know their significance. A whole mess of sequences like this were with me earlier, though. In fact, at first I thought you were one of them.”
“Looks real enough to walk into.”
“Maybe it is.”
“It might be our way out of here.”
“Somehow that just seems a little too easy.”
“Well, let’s give it a try,”
“Go ahead,” I told him.
We departed the trail, advanced upon the reality window, and kept going. In a moment he was on the side walk next to the street up which the car was passing. He turned and waved. I saw his mouth working, but no words came to me.
If I could brush snow off the red Chevy, why couldn’t I enter entirely into one of these sequences? And if I could do that, mightn’t it be possible that I could shadow-walk from there, wending my way to some more congenial spot, leaving this dark world behind? I moved forward.
Suddenly I was there, and the sound had been turned on for me. I looked about at the buildings, at the sharply inclined street. I listened to the traffic sounds, and I sniffed the air. This place could almost be one of San Francisco’s shadows. I hurried to catch up with Jurt, who was moving toward the corner.
I reached him quickly, fell into step beside him. We came to the corner. We turned. We froze.
There was nothing there. We faced a wall of blackness. That is, not just darkness but an absolute emptiness, from which we immediately drew back.
I put my hand forth slowly. A tingling began as it neared the blackness, then a chill, followed by a fear. I drew back. Jurt reached for it, did the same. Abruptly he stopped, picked up the bottom of a broken bottle from the gutter, turned, and hurled it through a nearby window. Immediately he began running in that direction.
I followed. I joined him before the broken pane, stared within.
Again the blackness. There was nothing at all on the other side of the window.
“Kind of spooky,” I remarked.
“Uh-huh,” Jurt said. “It’s as if we’re being granted extremely limited access to various shadows. What do you make of it?”
“I’m beginning to wonder whether there isn’t something we’re supposed to be looking for in one of these places,” I said.
Suddenly the blackness beyond the window was gone, and a candle flickered on a small table beyond it. I began to reach through the broken glass toward it. Immediately it vanished. Again there was only blackness.
“I’d take that as an affirmative response to your question,” Jurt said.
“I believe you’re right. But we can’t be looking for something in every one of these things we pass.”
“I think maybe something’s just been trying to get your attention, to get you to realize that you should be watching what appears, that something probably will be presented once you begin noticing.
Brightness. A whole tableful of candles now blazed beyond the window.
“Okay,” I hollered. “If that’s all you want, I’ll do it. Is there anything else I should be looking for here?”
The darkness came. It crept around the corner and moved slowly toward us. The candles vanished, and it flowed from the window. The buildings across the street disappeared behind an ebon wall.
“I take it the answer is no,” I cried. Then I turned and beat it back along our narrowing black tunnel toward the trail. Jurt was right behind me.
“Good thinking,” I told him when we stood back on the glowing way, watching that rising street get squeezed out of existence beside us. “Do you think it was just pulling these sequences at random till I finally entered one?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think it has more control in those places and could respond to your questions more readily in one of them.”
“It being the Pattern?”
“Probably.”
“Okay. The next one it opens to me, I’m going in. I’ll do whatever it wants there if it means I get out of here sooner.”
“We, brother. We.”
“Of course,” I answered.
We commenced walking again. Nothing new and intriguing appeared beside us, though. The road zigged and zagged, and we walked along it, and I got to wondering whom we might meet next. If I were indeed on the Pattern’s turf and on the verge of doing something it wanted, then it seemed that the Logrus might send along someone I knew to attempt to dissuade me. No one appeared at all, though, and we took the final turn, followed a trail suddenly grown straight for some time, then saw it end abruptly within a dark mass far ahead.
Continuing, I saw that it plunged on into a great, dark, mountainous mass. I felt vaguely claustrophobic; just considering the implications, and I heard Jurt mutter an obscenity as we trudged toward it. Before we reached it, there came a flickering to my right. Turning, I beheld Random and Vialle’s bedroom, back in Amber. I was looking from the southern side of the room, between the sofa and a bedside table, past a chair, across the rug and the cushions toward the fireplace, the windows which flanked it admitting a soft daylight. No one was present in the bed or occupying any other piece of furniture, and the logs on the grate had burned themselves down to red embers, smoking fitfully.
“What now?” Jurt asked.
“This is it,” I replied “It has to be, don’t you see? Once I got the message as to what was going on, it presented the real thing. I’ve got to act fast, too, I think — as soon as I figure just what —”
One of the stones beside the fireplace began to glow redly. It increased in intensity as I watched. There was no way that those embers could be doing it. Therefore…
I rushed forward under the influence of a powerful imperative. I heard Jurt shout something behind me, but his voice was cut off as I entered the room. I caught a whiff of Vialle’s favorite perfume as I passed beside the bed. This was really Amber, I was certain, not just some shadowy facsimile thereof. I moved quickly to the right of the fireplace.
Jurt burst into the room behind me.
“Better come out fighting!” he cried.
I whirled to face him, shouted, “Shut up!” then raised a finger to my lips.
He crossed to my side, caught hold of my arm, and whispered hoarsely, “Borel’s trying to materialize again! He might be solid and waiting by the time you leave!”
From the sitting room I heard Vialle’s voice. “Is someone there?” she called.
I jerk
ed my arm free of Jurt’s grasp, knelt upon the hearth, and seized hold of the glowing stone. It appeared to be mortared in place but came loose easily when I drew upon it.
“How’d you know that one came free?” Jurt whispered.
“The glow,” I replied.
“What glow?” he asked.
I did not answer him but thrust my right hand into the opened area, hoping offhandedly there were no booby traps. The opening extended back for a good distance beyond the length of the stone. And there I felt it, suspended from peg or hook: a length of chain. I caught hold of it and drew it forth. I heard Jurt catch his breath beside me.
The last time I had seen it was when Random had worn it at Caine’s funeral. It was the Jewel of Judgment that I held in my hand. I raised it quickly and slipped the chain over my head, letting that red stone fall upon my breast, just as the door to the sitting room was opened.
Placing my finger to my lips, once more I reached forward, caught hold of Jurt’s shoulders, and turned him back toward the opened wall which let upon our trail. He began to protest; but I propelled him with a sharp push, and he moved off in that direction.
“Who’s there?” I heard Vialle ask, and Jurt glanced back at me, looking puzzled.
I did not feel we could afford the time for my explaining by sign language or whisper that she was blind. So I gave him another push. Only this time he stepped to the side, extended his leg, slipped a hand behind my back, and pushed me forward. A brief expletive escaped my lips, and then I was falling. From behind me, I heard Vialle’s “Who —” before her voice was cut off.
I tumbled onto the trail, managing to draw the dagger from my right boot as I fell. I rolled and came up with the point extended toward the figure of Borel, which seemed to have found its form once more.
He was smiling, his weapon yet undrawn, as he regarded me.
“There is no field of arms here,” he stated, “to provide you with a lucky accident such as you enjoyed when last we met.”
“Too bad,” I said.
“If I but gain that bauble you wear about your neck and deliver it to the place of the Logrus, I will be granted a normal existence, to replace my living counterpart — he who was treacherously slain by your father, as you pointed out.”
The vision of Amber’s royal apartments had vanished. Jurt stood off the trail, near what had been its interface with this odd realm. “I knew I couldn’t beat him,” he called out when he felt my glance, “but you took him once.”
I shrugged.
At this Borel turned toward Jurt.
“You would betray the Courts and the Logrus?” he asked him.
“On the contrary,” Jurt responded. “I may be saving them from a serious mistake.”
“What mistake might that be?”
“Tell him, Merlin. Tell him what you told me while we were climbing out of the deep freeze,” he said.
Borel glanced back at me.
“There’s something funny about this entire setup,” I said. “I’ve a feeling it’s all a duel between the Powers — the Logrus and the Pattern. Amber and the Courts may be secondary to the entire affair. You see —”
“Ridiculous!” he interrupted, drawing his weapon. “This is just made-up nonsense to avoid our duel.”
I tossed the dagger into my left hand and drew Grayswandir with my right.
“The hell with you then!” I said. “Come and get it!”
A hand fell upon my shoulder. And it kept right on falling with a sort of twist to it, spinning me into a downward spiral which threw me off to the left of the trail. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Borel had taken a step backward.
“You’ve a resemblance to Eric or to Corwin,” came a soft, familiar voice, “though I know you not. But you wear the Jewel, which makes your person too important to risk in a petty squabble.”
I came to a stop and turned my head. It was Benedict whom I beheld — a Benedict with two normal hands.
“My name is Merlin and I’m Corwin’s son,” I said, “and this is a master duelist from the Courts of Chaos.”
“You appear to be on a mission, Merlin. Be about it then,” Benedict said.
The point of Borel’s blade flicked into a position about ten inches from my throat. “You are going nowhere,” he stated, “not with that jewel.”
There was no sound as Benedict’s blade was drawn and moved to beat Borel’s off its line.
“As I said, be on your way, Merlin,” Benedict told me.
I got to my feet, moved quickly out of range, passed them both cautiously.
“If you kill him,” Jurt said, “he can rematerialize after a period of time.”
“How interesting,” Benedict remarked, flicking off an attack and retreating slightly “How long a time?”
“Several hours.”
“And how much time will you need to complete whatever you’re about?”
Jurt looked at me.
“I’m not certain,” I answered.
Benedict executed an odd little parry, followed by a strange shuffling step and a brief slashing attack. A button flew from Borel’s shirt front.
“In that case I’ll make this last for a time,” Benedict said. “Good luck, lad.”
He gave me a quick salute with the weapon, at which moment Borel attacked. Benedict used an Italianate sixte which threw both their points off to the side, advancing as he did so. He reached forward quickly then with his left hand and pulled the other’s nose. Then he pushed him away, stepped back a pace, and smiled.
“What do you usually charge for lessons?” I overheard him asking as Jurt and I hurried down the path.
x x x
“I wonder how long it does take for one of the Powers to materialize a ghost,” Jurt said as we jogged toward the mountainous mass the trail entered.
“Several hours for Borel alone,” I said, “and if the Logrus wants the Jewel as badly as I’d guess, I’d think it would have summoned an army of ghosts if it could. I’m certain now that this place is very difficult for both Powers to reach. I get the feeling they can only manifest via the barest trickles of energy. If that weren’t the case, I’d never have gotten this far.”
Jurt reached out as if to touch the Jewel, apparently thought better of it, withdrew his hand.
“It seems you’ve definitely aligned yourself with the Pattern now,” he observed.
“Looks as if you have, too. Unless you’re planning on stabbing me in the back at the last moment,” I said.
He chuckled. Then, “Not funny,” he said. “I’ve got to be on your side. I can see that the Logrus just created me as a disposable tool. I’d wind up on the scrap heap when the job’s done. I’ve a feeling I might have dissipated already had it not been for the transfusion. So I’m with you, like it or not, and your back is safe.”
We ran on along the now-straight way, its terminus finally grown near. Jurt finally asked, “What is the significance of that pendant? The Logrus seems to want it badly.”
“It’s called the Jewel of Judgment,” I answered. “It is said to be older than the Pattern itself and to have been instrumental in its creation.”
“Why do you think you were led to it and obtained it with such ease?”
“I have no idea whatsoever,” I said. “If you get one before I do, I’ll be glad to hear it.”
Soon we reached the place where the trail plunged into the greater darkness. We halted and regarded it.
“No signs posted,” I said, checking above and to either side of that entranceway.
Jurt gave me an odd look.
“You’ve always had a weird sense of humor, Merlin,” he said. “Who’d put up a sign in a place like this?”
“Someone else with a weird sense of humor,” I replied.
“Might as well go on,” he said, turning back toward the entrance.
A bright red exit sign had appeared above the opening. Jurt stared for a moment, then shook his head slowly. We entered.
We took our way down
a wandering tunnel — a thing which puzzled me a bit. The artificial quality of most of the rest of this place had led me to expect a ruler-straight trail through a smooth-walled shaft, geometrically precise in all its features. Instead, it seemed as if we were traversing a series of natural caverns — stalactites, stalagmites, pillars, and pools displayed at either hand.
The Jewel cast a baleful light over any features I turned to scrutinize.
“Do you know how to use that stone?” Jurt asked me.
I thought back over my father’s story.
“When the time comes, I believe that I will,” I said, raising the Jewel and studying it for a moment, then letting it fall again. I was less concerned with it than with the route we were following.
I kept turning my head as we made our way from damp grotto to high cathedral chamber, along narrow passages, down stony waterfalls. There was something familiar here, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Anything about this place bring back memories?” I asked him.
“Not for me,” Jurt replied.
We kept going, at one point passing a side cave containing three human skeletons. These being, in their fashion, the first real signs of life I had seen since the onset of this journey, I remarked on it.
Jurt nodded slowly.
“I am beginning to wonder whether we are still walking between shadows,” he said, “or whether we might actually have departed that place and entered Shadow — perhaps when we came into these caves.”
“I could find out by trying to summon the Logrus,” I said, causing Frakir immediately to pulse sharply upon my wrist. “But considering the metaphysical politics of the situation, I’d rather not.”
“I was just going by the colors of all the minerals in the walls,” he said. “The place we left behind kind of favored monochrome. Not that I give a shit about the scenery. What I’m saying is that if we have, it’s a kind of victory.”
I pointed at the ground.
“So long as that glowing, trail is there, we’re not off the hook.”
“What if we simply walked away from it now?” he asked, turning to the right and taking a single step in that direction.
A stalactite vibrated and crashed to the ground before him. It missed him by about a foot. He was back beside me in an instant.
Knight of Shadows tcoa-9 Page 12
