Roger Zelazny's The Dawn of Amber
Page 22
“Ah,” he said. “Here is Oberon. Ready, my boy?”
“Yes.” I shut and barred the door.
“What’s this plan?” Conner asked me.
Everyone echoed his sentiments.
“Are you done with the Trumps?” I asked Dworkin.
“Yes.”
“We’re leaving,” I told my brothers and sisters. “We’re going to split up—head to different Shadows. I want you all to stay there at least a year or two. Do nothing involving the Logrus. Let’s see if we can’t outlast our enemies.”
“But the Trumps—” Freda began.
“We now have a few that work,” I told her. “That’s all you need to know for the moment.”
She still looked upset, so I added, “It’s for everyone’s safety. We’re going to pair up. None of you will know where the other groups have gone. Hopefully, you’ll all be safe.”
“Who is first?” Dworkin asked.
“Leona and Syara,” I said. They stood closest to me. “Give me the first Trump,” I said to our father.
He passed me a card. I held it up, staring at it, feeling the power of the image as it sprang to life.
A placid lake, swans swimming, sailboats racing across the water. Beyond the water rose a golden-hued city, its bridges and towers like spun glass. My sisters would be happy here, I thought.
I pushed them through, saw them on the other side staring back at me with startled expressions—and then they were gone.
I held a crumpled card in my hand. Silently, I passed it to Dworkin, who thrust it into a candle’s flame. It caught fire like well-seasoned tinder, burning brightly and rapidly. He dropped it to the stone floor, where it slowly turned to ash.
“Next,” I said. “Conner and Titus.”
They stepped forward, and as before, our father passed me one of his new Trumps. I held it up, concentrating on the image.
This scene showed a busy street in a bustling city. Men on horseback, tall buildings, shops selling arms and armor—the perfect place for two young men to lose themselves in adventures.
As the sights and smells and textures of this city leaped to life, I pushed my brothers through. As before, I crumpled the Trump in my hand, and they were gone.
Dworkin burned it, too.
“Freda and Pella,” I said.
“Pick us a nice world, Father,” Freda said in a soft tone.
He smiled at her lovingly, then passed me another Trump. I gazed at it.
A winter palace, with snow falling. White horses decked in bells and ribbons. Twin statues of Freda and Pella being worshipped as goddesses.
I smiled. Yes, they would be happy here, I thought. I pushed them through as the world came to life before me, and just before I crumpled the page, I heard wild cheering as they appeared. The goddesses had arrived. They would be well cared for.
That only left Aber and Blaise. I would never have paired them, but with Fenn and Isadora gone, there didn’t seem much choice.
“Ready?” I asked.
“I suppose,” Aber said, stepping forward bravely. “Coming, Sis?”
She glared at him. “Don’t call me that!”
Oh yes, I thought, rolling my eyes, they were going to have a lot of fun together. If they didn’t rip each other’s throats out first.
Without comment, Dworkin passed me another Trump. I gazed down at an elegant whitewashed villa. As it came to reality before me, I smelled the ocean’s brine and heard the soft calls of gulls as they wheeled in a cloudless azure sky. It seemed almost idyllic.
I helped Blaise through, then reached for Aber. But as he stepped close, he snatched the Trump from my hand, ripped it in half, and the doorway into Shadow vanished. My last glimpse of Blaise showed her with hands on her hips and a furious expression on her face.
“Are you crazy!” I demanded. “What’s the idea?”
Grinning, Aber thrust the ruined Trump into a candle’s flame. It burned fast and bright.
“You have to ask?” he said. “I’m not living with her for a year or two! I’d rather face a legion of hell-creatures naked and unarmed!”
I took a deep breath, then let it out with a laugh. “All right,” I said, looking at our father. He looked distinctly nonplussed. “I guess we don’t have any choice now. Like it or not, you’re coming with us.”
“Where?” he asked eagerly.
Dworkin held up the last Trump.
“Where they least expect us,” he said, smiling like a shark about to devour its prey.
I looked down, a horrible cold feeling reaching up inside my chest.
He had drawn the Courts of Chaos.
HERE ENDS BOOK ONE
OF THE DAWN OF AMBER
JOHN GREGORY BETANCOURT is an editor, publisher, and bestselling author of science fiction and fantasy novels and short stories. He has had 36 books published, including the bestselling Star Trek novel, Infection, and three other Star Trek novels; a trilogy of mythic novels starring Hercules; the critically acclaimed Born of Elven Blood; Rememory; Johnny Zed; The Blind Archer; and many others. He is personally responsible for the revival of Weird Tales, the classic magazine of the fantastic, and has authored two critical works in conjunction with the Sci-Fi Channel: The Sci-Fi Channel Trivia Book and The Sci-Fi Channel Encyclopedia of TV Science Fiction.
ROGER ZELAZNY authored many science fiction and fantasy classics, and won three Nebula Awards and six Hugo Awards over the course of his long and distinguished career. While he is best known for his ten-volume Chronicles of Amber series of novels (beginning with 1970’s Nine Princes in Amber), Zelazny also wrote many other novels, short stories, and novellas, including Psychoshop (with Alfred Bester), Damnation Alley, the award-winning The Doors of His Face, The Lamps of His Mouth and Lord of Light, and the stories “24 Views of Mount Fuji, by Hokusai,” “Permafrost,” and “Home is the Hangman.” Zelazny died in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in June 1995.
The Dawn of Amber
John Gregory Betancourt
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new york
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