The Chronicles of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

My own blade was in my hand, ready, as I watched and advanced.

  He was good, even better than I remembered him to be. He advanced like a whirlwind, and his blade was alive with light. They fell before it—how they fell, my friend! Whatever else you might say of Bleys, on that day he acquitted himself as became his rank. I wondered how long he could keep going.

  He’d a dagger in his left hand, which he used with brutal efficiency whenever he could manage a corps à corps. He left it in the throat of his eleventh victim.

  I could see no end to the column which opposed us. I decided that it must stretch all the way to the landing at the top. I hoped my turn wouldn’t come. I almost believed it.

  Three more men plummeted past me and we came to a small landing and a turn. He cleared the landing and began the ascent. For half an hour I watched him, and they died and they died. I could hear the murmurs of awe from the men behind me. I almost thought he could make it to the top.

  He used every trick available. He baffled blades and eyes with his cloak. He tripped the warriors. He seized wrists and twisted, with his full strength.

  We made it to another landing. There was some blood on his sleeve by then, but he smiled constantly, and the warriors behind the warriors he killed were ashen. This helped him, too. And perhaps the fact that I stood ready to fill the gap also contributed to their fears and so slowed them, worked on their nerves. They’d heard of the naval engagement, I later learned.

  Bleys worked his way to the next landing, cleared it, turned again, began to ascend. I hadn’t thought he could make it that far, then. I didn’t think I could make it as far as he had. It was the most phenomenal display of swordsmanship and endurance I’d seen since Benedict had held the pass above Arden against the Moonriders out of Ghenesh.

  He was tiring, though, I could see that, too. If only there were some way for me to relieve him, to spell him for a time.

  But there wasn’t. So I followed, fearing every stroke might be his last.

  I knew that he was weakening. We were within a hundred feet of the top at that point.

  I suddenly felt for him. He was my brother and he’d done well by me. I don’t think he thought he’d make it then, yet he was fighting on . . . in effect, giving me my chance for the throne.

  He killed three more men, and his blade moved more slowly each time. He fought with the fourth for perhaps five minutes before he took him. I was certain the next would he his last.

  He wasn’t, though.

  As he slew that man, I transferred my blade from my right hand to my left, drew my dagger with my right and threw it.

  It went in up to the hilt, in the throat of the next man. Bleys sprang over two steps and hamstrung the man before him, casting him downward.

  Then he cut upward, ripping open the belly of the one behind that one.

  I rushed to fill the gap, to be tight behind him and ready. He didn’t need me yet, though.

  He took the next two, with a new burst of energy. I called for another dagger and one was passed to me from somewhere along the line.

  I kept it ready till he slowed once more, and I used it on the man he fought.

  The man was lunging as it spun in, so the hilt rather than the blade caught him. It struck against his head, though, and Bleys pushed against his shoulder and he fell. But the next man leaped forward, and though he impaled himself, he struck Bleys upon the shoulder and they went over the edge together.

  By reflex, almost without knowing what I was doing, yet knowing fully in one of those microsecond decisions you justify after the fact, my left hand leaped to my belt, whipped out my pack of the Trumps and cast them toward Bleys as he seemed to hang there for an instant—so rapidly did my muscles and perceptions respond—and I cried out, “Catch them, you fool!”

  And he did.

  I didn’t have time to see what happened next, as I parried and thrust.

  Then began the final lap of our journey up Kolvir.

  Let’s just say I made it and was gasping, as my troops came over the edge to support me there on the landing.

  We consolidated our forces and pressed ahead.

  It took us an hour to reach the Great Arch.

  We passed through. We entered Amber.

  Wherever Eric was, I’m sure he’d never guessed we’d make it this far.

  And I wondered where Bleys was? Had he gotten a chance to grab a Tramp and use it, before he reached the bottom? I guessed that I’d never know.

  We had underestimated, all the way around. We were outnumbered now, and the only thing left to do was to fight on for as long as we could hold out. Why had I done such a foolish thing as throw Bleys my Trumps? I knew he had none of his own and that’s what had dictated my response, conditioned perhaps by my years on the Shadow Earth, But I might have used them to escape, if things went badly.

  Things went badly.

  We fought on until twilight, and by then there was only a small band of us remaining.

  We were surrounded at a point a thousand yards within Amber, and still far from the palace. We were fighting a defensive fight, and one by one we died. We were overwhelmed.

  Llewella or Deirdre would have given me sanctuary. Why had I done it?

  I killed another man and put the question out of my mind.

  The sun went down and darkness filled the sky. We were down to a few hundred by then, and not much closer to the palace.

  Then I saw Eric and heard him shouting orders. If only I could reach him!

  But I couldn’t.

  I’d probably have surrendered, to save my remaining troops, who had served me far too well.

  But there was no one to surrender to, no one asking for a surrender. Eric couldn’t even hear me if I cried out. He was out of the way, directing. So we fought on, and I was down to a hundred men.

  Let’s be brief.

  They killed everyone but me.

  At me they threw nets and unleashed blunted arrows.

  Finally, I fell and was clubbed and hog-tied, and then everything went away but a nightmare which attached itself and wouldn’t let go, no matter what.

  We had lost.

  I awoke in a dungeon far below Amber, sorry that I had made it that far.

  The fact that I still lived meant that Eric had plans for me. I visualized racks and braces, flames and tongs. I foresaw my coming degradation as I lay there on the damp straw.

  How long had I been unconscious? I did not know.

  I searched my cell for a means of committing suicide. I found nothing that would serve this purpose.

  All my wounds blazed like suns, and I was so very tired.

  I lay me down and slept once more.

  I awakened, and still no one came to me. There was none to buy, none to torture.

  Also, there was nothing for me to eat.

  I lay there, wrapped in my cloak, and I reviewed everything that had happened since I’d awakened in Greenwood and refused my hypo. Better, perhaps, if I hadn’t.

  I knew despair.

  Soon Eric would be crowned king in Amber. This thing might already have occurred.

  But sleep was so lovely a thing, and I so tired.

  It was the first real chance I’d had to rest and forget my wounds.

  The cell was so dark arid smelly and damp.

  Chapter 8

  How many times I awakened and returned to sleep, I do not know. Twice I found bread and meat and water on a tray by the door. Both times, I emptied the tray. My cell was almost pitch dark and very chilly. I waited there, and I waited.

  Then they came for me.

  The door swung open and a feeble light entered. I blinked at it as I was called forth.

  The corridor without was filled to overflowing with armed men, so I wasn’t about to try anything.

  I rubbed at the stubble on my chin and went where they took me.

  After a long walk, we came to the hall of the spiral stair and began to ascend. I asked no questions as we moved, and no one offered me any information.


  When we reached the top, I was conducted further into the palace proper. They took me to a warm, clean room and ordered me to strip, which I did. Then I entered a steaming tub of water, and a servant came forth and scrubbed me and shaved me and trimmed my hair.

  When I was dry again, I was given fresh garments, of black and of silver.

  I donned them, and a black cloak was hung about my shoulders, its clasp a silver rose.

  “You are ready,” said the sergeant of the guard. “Come this way.”

  I followed him, and the guard followed me.

  I was taken far to the back of the palace where a smith placed manacles about my wrists, fetters on my ankles, with chains upon them too heavy for me to break. Had I resisted, I knew I would have been beaten unconscious and the result would have been the same. I had no desire to be beaten unconscious again, so I complied.

  Then the chains were taken up by several of the guards, and I was led back toward the front of the palace. I had no eyes for the magnificence that lay all about me. I was a prisoner. I would probably soon be dead or on the rack. There was nothing I could do right now. A glance out of the window showed me that it was early evening, and there was no place for nostalgia as I passed through rooms where we had played as children.

  I was led up a long corridor and into the great dining room.

  There were tables all over the place, and people seated all about them, many of whom I knew.

  All the fine gowns and suits of Amber burned about me on the bodies of the nobles, and there was music beneath the torchlight and food already upon the tables, though no one was eating yet.

  I saw faces that I recognized, like Flora’s, and some strange faces. There was the minstrel. Lord Rein—yes, he had been knighted, by me—whom I had not seen in centuries. He turned his eyes away when my gaze fell upon him.

  I was taken to the foot of the huge center table and seated there.

  The guards stayed and stood behind me. They fastened the ends of my chains to rings fresh-set in the floor. The seat at the head of my table was as yet unoccupied.

  I did not recognize the woman to my right, but the man to my left was Julian. I ignored him and stared at the lady, a little wisp of a blonde.

  “Good evening,” I said. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. My name is Corwin.”

  She looked at the man at her right for support, a heavy, redheaded guy with lots of freckles. He looked away and suddenly became engaged in an animated conversation with the woman to his right.

  “It’s all right to talk with me, honest,” I said. “It’s not contagious.

  She managed a weak smile and said, “I’m Carmel. How are you, Prince Corwin?”

  “That’s a sweet name,” I replied, “and I’m just fine. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  She took a quick drink of water.

  “Corwin,” said Julian, louder than necessary. “I think the lady finds you offensive and obnoxious.”

  “What’s she said to you so far this evening?” and he didn’t blush. He whitened.

  “That will be enough from you.”

  I stretched then, and rattled my chains on purpose. Outside of the effect it produced, it also showed me how much slack I had. Not enough, of course. Eric had been careful.

  “Come closer and whisper me your objections, brother,” I said.

  But he didn’t.

  I had been the last to be seated, so I knew the time was near at hand. And it was.

  There came five trumpet notes from six trumpets and Eric entered the hall.

  Everybody stood.

  Except for me.

  The guards had to drag me to my feet by means of the chains and hold me there.

  Eric smiled and descended the stair to my right. I could barely see his own colors beneath the ermine robe that he wore.

  He moved to the head of the table and stood before his chair. A servant came and stood behind him, and the wine stewards made their rounds, pouring.

  When all the glasses were filled, he raised his.

  “May you dwell forever in Amber,” he said, “which endureth forever,” and everyone raised his glass.

  Except for me.

  “Pick it up!” said Julian.

  “Shove it up,” said I.

  He didn’t, only glared. But I leaned forward quickly then and raised my glass.

  There were a couple hundred people between us, but my voice carried. And Eric’s eyes were upon me all the while, as I said, “To Eric, who sits at the foot of the table!”

  No one moved to touch me as Julian emptied his glass upon the floor. All the others did the same, but I managed to quaff most of mine, before it was struck from my hand.

  Eric seated himself then and the nobles followed suit, and I was released to fall into my chair.

  The serving began, and since I was hungry I ate as well as the rest of them, and better than most.

  There was constant music and the meal lasted for over two hours. No one said a word to me during the whole time, and I said nothing more myself. But my presence was felt, and our table was quieter than the others.

  Caine sat farther up along the table. At Eric’s right hand. I gathered that Julian was out of favor. Neither Random nor Deirdre was present. There were many other nobles whom I recognized. some of whom I had once counted as friends, but none of these would return my glances.

  I gathered then that it only required a small formality for Eric to be king in Amber.

  And this followed shortly.

  After dinner, there were no speeches Eric simply stood.

  There came another flash of trumpets and a raucous sound upon the air.

  Then there was a procession, leading all the way to the throne room of Amber.

  I knew what was coming next.

  Eric stood before the throne and everybody bowed.

  Except for me, that is, and I was forced to my knees anyway.

  Today was the day of his coronation.

  There was silence. Then Caine bore in the cushion which held the crown, the crown of Amber. He knelt and froze in that position, offering it.

  Then I was jerked to my feet and dragged forward. I knew what was about to happen. It came upon me in a flash, and I fought. But I was beaten down and brought to my knees at the foot of the stair before the throne.

  The music rose up softly-it was “Greensleeves"-and somewhere at my back Julian said, “Behold the crowning of a new king in Amber!” Then to me, in a whisper, “Take up the crown and hand it to Eric. He will crown himself.”

  I stared at the crown of Amber upon the crimson cushion Caine held.

  It was wrought of silver and had seven high points, each topped by a gem stone. It was studded with emeralds, and there were two huge rubies at either temple.

  I didn’t move, thinking of the times I had seen the face of our father beneath it.

  “No,” I said simply, and I felt a blow upon my left check.

  “Take it and give it to Eric,” he repeated.

  I tried to strike at him, but my chains were drawn tight. I was struck again.

  I stared at the high sharp peaks.

  “Very well,” I finally said, and reached for it.

  I held it in both hands for a moment then quickly placed it on my own head and declared, “I crown me, Corwin, king of Amber!”

  It was removed immediately and replaced upon the cushion. Several blows fell upon my back. There came a murmuring throughout the hall.

  “Now pick it up and try it again,” said Julian. “Take it and hand it to Eric.”

  Another blow fell.

  “Okay,” I told him, feeling my shirt grow wet.

  This time I hurled it, hoping to put out one of Eric’s eyes.

  He caught it in his right hand and smiled down at me as I was beaten.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Now hear me, all you present, and those of you who listen in Shadow. I assume the crown and throne this day. I take into my hand the
scepter of the kingdom of Amber. I have won the throne fairly, and I take it and hold it by the right of my blood.”

  “Liar!” I cried, and a hand was clapped over my mouth.

  “I crown myself Eric the First, King of Amber.”

  “Long live the King!” cried the nobles, three times.

  Then he leaned forward and whispered to me, “Your eyes have looked upon the fairest sight they will ever hold. . .. Guards! Take Corwin away to the smithy, and let his eyes be burnt from out his head! Let him remember the sights of this day as the last he might ever see! Then cast him into the darkness of the deepest dungeon beneath Amber, and let his name be forgotten!”

  I spat and was beaten.

  I fought every step of the way, but was taken forth from the hall. No one would look upon me as I went, and the last thing I remember was the sight of Eric seated upon the throne, pronouncing his blessing upon the nobles of Amber, and smiling.

  That which he said was done to me, and mercifully I fainted before it was finished.

  I have no idea how much later it was that I awakened within absolute blackness and felt the terrible pains within my head. Perhaps it was then that I pronounced the curse, or perhaps it had been at the time that the white-hot irons had descended. I don’t remember. But I knew that Eric would never rest easy upon the throne, for the curse of a prince of Amber, pronounced in a fullness of fury, is always potent.

  I clawed at the straw, in the absolute blackness of my cell, and no tears came. That was the horror of it. After a time—only you and I, gods, know how long—sleep came again

  When I awakened. there was still the pain. I rose to my feet. I measured off the dimensions of my cell. Four paces in width, five in length. There was a lavatory hole in the floor and a straw-tick mattress in a corner. The door contained a small slot at the bottom, and behind it there was a tray which held a stale piece of bread and a bottle of water. I ate and I drank, but I was not refreshed.

  My head ached so, and there was nothing of peace within me.

  I slept as much as I could, and no one came to see me. I awakened and crossed my cell and felt for food and ate it when I found it. I slept as much as I could.

  After seven sleeps, the pain was gone from out my eye sockets. I hated my brother who was king in Amber. Better he had killed me.