He was apolitical, I learned. He didn't care who reigned in Amber. So far as he was concerned, the whole bloody crew of us were rotten. So long as he could tend his lighthouse and eat and drink of good food and brew, and consider his nautical charts in peace, he didn't give half a damn what happened ashore. I came to be rather fond of him, and since I knew something of old charts and maps also, we spent many a good evening correcting a few. I had sailed far into the north many years ago, and I gave him a new chart based on my recollections of the voyage. This seemed to please him immensely, as did my description of those waters.
“Corey” (that was how I'd named myself), “I'd like to sail with you one day,” he said. “I hadn't realized you were skipper of your own vessel one time.”
“Who knows?” I told him. “You were once a captain yourself, weren't you?”
“How'd you know?” he asked.
Actually, I'd remembered, but I gestured about me in reply.
“All these things you've collected,” I said, “and your fondness for the charts, Also, you bear yourself like a man who once held a command.”
He smiled.
“Yes,” he told me, “that's true. I had a command for over a hundred years. That seems long ago... Let's have another drink.”
I sipped mine and sort of put it aside. I must have gained over forty pounds in the months I had spent with him. Any day now, I was expecting him to recognize me as a member of the family. Maybe he would turn me in to Eric if he did-and maybe not. Now that we'd established this much of camaraderie, I had a feeling that he might not do it. I didn't want to take the chance and find out.
Sometimes as I sat tending the light I wondered, “How long should I stay here?”
Not too much longer, I decided, adding a drop of grease to a swivel bearing. Not much longer at all. The time was drawing near when I should take to the road and walk among Shadows once again.
Then one day I felt the pressure, gentle and questing at first. I couldn't tell for sure who it was.
I immediately stood stock still, closed my eyes and made my mind go blank. It was about five minutes before the questing presence withdrew.
I paced then and wondered, and I smiled when I realized the shortness of my course. Unconsciously, I had been pacing out the dimensions of my cell back in Amber.
Someone had just tried to reach me, via my Trump. Was it Eric? Had he finally become aware of my absence and decided to try locating me in this manner? I wasn't sure. I felt that he might fear mental contact with me again. Julian, then? Or Gerard? Caine? Whoever it had been, I had closed him out completely, I knew that. And I would refuse such contact with any of my family. I might be missing some important news or a helpful call, but I couldn't afford to take the chance. The attempted contact and my blocking efforts left me with a chill. I shuddered. I thought about the thing all the rest of the day and decided that the time had come for me to move on. It wouldn't do for me to remain this close to Amber while I was so vulnerable. I had recovered sufficiently to make my way among Shadows, to seek for the place where I had to go if Amber were ever to be mine. I had been lulled into something close to peace by old Jopin's ministrations. It would be a pain to leave him, for in the months of our association I had come to like the old guy. so that evening, after we'd finished a game of chess, I told him of my plans to depart.
He poured us two drinks then raised his and said, “Good luck to you, Corwin. I hope to see you again one day.”
I didn't question the fact that he had called me by my proper name, and he smiled as he realized that I hadn't let it slip by.
“You've been all right, Jopin,” I told him. “If I should succeed in what I'm about to try, I won't forget what you did for me.”
He shook his head.
“I don't want anything,” he said. “I'm happy right where I am, doing exactly what I'm doing. I enjoy running this damned tower. It's my whole life. If you should succeed in whatever you're about-no, don't tell me about it, please! I don't want to know! -I'll be hoping you'll stop around for a game of chess sometime.”
“I will,” I promised.
“You can take the Butterfly in the morning, if you'd like.”
“Thanks.”
The Butterfly was his sailboat.
“Before you go,” he said, “I suggest you take my spyglass, climb the tower, and look back on the Vale of Garnath.”
“What's there to see?”
He shrugged.
“You'll have to make up your own mind about that”
I nodded.
“Okay, I will.”
We then proceeded to get pleasantly high and turned in for the night. I'd miss old Jopin. With the exception of Rein, he was the only friend I'd found since my return. I wondered vaguely about the valley which had been a sheet of flame the last time I had crossed it. What could it be that was so unusual about it now, these four years later?
Troubled by dreams of werewolves and Sabbats, I slept, and the full moon rose above the world.
At the crack of dawn I did the same. Jopin was still sleeping, which was good, because I don't really like to say good-by, and I had a funny feeling that I would never see him again.
I climbed the tower to the room that housed the big light, spyglass at my side. I moved to the window facing the shore and focused on the valley.
There was a mist hanging above the wood. It was a cold, gray, wet-looking thing that clung to the tops of the small, gnarly trees. The trees were dark, and their branches twisted together like the fingers of wrestling hands. Dark things darted among them, and from the patterns of their fight I knew they were not birds. Bats. probably. There was something evil present in that great wood, I knew, and then I recognized it. It was myself.
I had done this thing with my curse. I had transformed the peaceful Valley of Garnath into what it now represented: it was a symbol of my hate for Eric and for all those others who had stood by and let him get away with his power grab, let him blind me. I didn't like the looks of that forest, and as I stared at it I realized how my hate had objeetified itself. I knew it because it was a part of me. I had created a new entranceway into the real world. Garnath was now a pathway through Shadows. Shadows dark and grim. Only the dangerous, the malicious might walk that pathway. This was the source of the things Rein had mentioned, the things that troubled Eric. Good-in a way-if they kept him occupied. But as I swung the glass, I couldn't escape the feeling that I had done a very bad thing indeed. At the time, I'd had no idea that I'd ever see the light of day's bright skies again. Now that I did, I realized that I'd unleashed a thing that would take an awful lot of undoing. Even now, strange shapes seemed to move within that place. I had done a thing which had never been done before, not during the whole of Oberon's reign: I had opened a new way to Amber. And I had opened it only to the worst. A day would come when the liege of Amber-whoever he might he-would be faced with the problem of closing that dreadful way. I knew this as I stared, realizing the thing to be a product of my own pain, anger, and hate. If I won out in Amber one day, I might have to cope with my own handiwork, which is always a devilish thing to attempt. I lowered the glass and sighed.
So be it, I decided. In the meantime, it would give Eric something to have insomnia over.
I grabbed a quick bite to eat, outfitted the Butterfly as rapidly as I could, hoisted some canvas, cast off, and set sail. Jopin was usually up by that hour, but maybe he didn't like good-bys either.
I headed her out to sea, knowing where I was going but not real certain how to get there. I'd be sailing through Shadow and strange waters, but it would be better than the overland route, what with my handiwork abroad in the realm.
I had set sail for a land near as sparkling as Amber itself, an almost immortal place, a place that did not really exist, not any longer. It was a place which had vanished into Chaos ages ago, but of which a Shadow must somewhere survive. All I had to do was find it, recognize it, and make it mine once again, as it had been in days long gone by. The
n, with my own forces to back me up, I would do another thing Amber had never known. I didn't know how yet, but I promised myself that guns would blaze within the immortal city on the day of my return.
As I sailed into Shadow, a white bird of my desire came and sat upon my right shoulder. and I wrote a note and tied It to its leg and sent It on Its way. The note said, “I am coming,” and it was signed by me.
I would never rest until I held vengeance and the throne within my hand, and good night sweet prince to anybody who stood between me and these things.
The sun hung low on my left and the winds bellied the sails and propelled me onward. I cursed once and then laughed.
I was free and I was running. but I had made it this far. I now had the chance I'd wanted all along.
A black bird of my desire came and sat on my left shoulder, and I wrote a note and tied it to its leg and sent it off into the west.
It said, “Eric—I'll be back,” and it was signed: “Corwin, Lord of Amber.”
A demon wind propelled me east of the sun.
Guns Of Avalon
CHAPTER 1
I stood there on the beach and said, “Good-by, Butterfly,” and the ship slowly turned, then headed out toward deep water. It would make it back into port at the lighthouse of Cabra, I knew, for that place lay near to Shadow.
Turning away, I regarded the black line of trees near at hand, knowing that a long walk lay ahead of me. I moved in that direction, making the necessary adjustments as I advanced. A pre-dawn chill lay upon the silent forest, and this was good.
I was perhaps fifty pounds underweight and still occasionally experienced double vision, but I was improving. I had escaped the dungeons of Amber and recuperated somewhat, with the assistance of mad Dworkin and drunken Jopin, in that order. Now I had to find me a place, a place resembling another place– one which no longer existed. I located the path. I took it.
After a time, I stopped at a hollow tree that had to be there. I reached inside and drew forth my silvered blade and strapped it to my waist. It mattered not that it had been somewhere in Amber. It was here now, for the wood that I walked was in Shadow.
I continued for several hours, the unseen sun somewhere behind my left shoulder. Then I rested awhile, then moved on. It was good to see the leaves and the rocks and the dead tree trunks, the live ones, the grass, the dark earth. It was good to smell all the little smells of life, and to hear its buzzing/humming/chirping sounds. God! How I treasured my eyes! Having them back again after nearly four years of blackness was a thing for which I lacked words. And to be walking free...
I went on, my tattered cloak flapping in the morning breeze. I must have looked over fifty years old, my face creased, my form sparse, lean. Who would have known me for what I was?
As I walked, walked in Shadow, moved toward a place, I did not reach that place. It must be that I had grown somewhat soft. Here is what happened—
I came upon seven men by the side of the road, and six of them were dead, lying in various stages of red dismemberment. The seventh was in a semi-reclined position, his back against the mossy bole of an ancient oak. He held his blade across his lap and there was a large wet wound in his right side, from which the blood still flowed. He wore no armor, though some of the others did. His gray eyes were open, though glassy. His knuckles were skinned and his breathing was slow. From beneath shaggy brows, he watched the crows eat out the eyes of the dead. He did not seem to see me.
I raised my cowl and lowered my head to hide my face. I moved nearer.
I knew him, or someone very like him, once. His blade twitched and the point rose as I advanced.
“I'm a friend,” I said. “Would you like a drink of water?” He hesitated a moment, then nodded.
“Yes.” I opened my canteen and passed it to him. He drank and coughed, drank some more.
“Sir, I thank you,” he said as he passed it back. “I only regret it were not stronger. Damn this cut!”
“I've some of that, too. If you're sure you can handle it.”
He held out his hand and I unstoppered a small flask and gave it to him. He must have coughed for twenty seconds after a slug of that stuff Jopin drinks.
Then the left side of his mouth smiled and he winked lightly.
“Much better,” he said. “Mind if I pour a drop of this onto my side? I hate to waste good whisky, but—”
“Use it all, if you have to. On second thought, though, your hand looks shaky. Maybe I'd better do the pouring.”
He nodded, and I opened his leather jacket and with my dagger cut away at his shirt until I had exposed the wound. It was nasty-looking, deep, running from front to back a couple inches above the top of his hip. He had other, less serious gashes on his arms, chest, and shoulders.
The blood kept oozing from the big one, and I blotted it a bit and wiped it clean with my kerchief.
“Okay,” I said, “clench your teeth and look away,” and I poured.
His entire body jerked, one great spasm, and then he settled down to shivering. But he did not cry out. I had not thought he would. I folded the kerchief and pressed it in place on the wound. I tied it there, with a long strip I had torn from the bottom of my cloak. “Want another drink?” I asked him.
“Of water,” he said. “Then I fear I must sleep.” He drank, then his head leaned forward until his chin was resting upon his breast. He slept, and I made him a pillow and covered him over with dead men's cloaks.
Then I sat there at his side and watched the pretty black birds.
He had not recognized me. But then, who would? Had I revealed myself to him, he might possibly have known me. We had never really met, I guess, this wounded man and I. But in a peculiar sense, we were acquainted.
I was walking in Shadow, seeking a place, a very special place. It had been destroyed once, but I had the power to re-create it, for Amber casts an infinity of shadows. A child of Amber may walk among them, and such was my heritage. You may call them parallel worlds if you wish, alternate universes if you would, the products of a deranged mind if you care to. I call them shadows, as do all who possess the power to walk among them. We select a possibility and we walk until we reach it. So, in a sense, we create it. Let's leave it at that for now.
I had sailed, had begun this walk toward Avalon.
Centuries before, I had lived there. It is a long, complicated, proud and painful story, and I may go into it later on, if I live to finish much more of this telling.
I was drawing nearer to my Avalon when I came upon the wounded knight and the six dead men. Had I chosen to walk on by, I could have reached a place where the six men lay dead and the knight stood unwounded-or a place where he lay dead and they stood laughing. Some would say it did not really matter, since all these things are possibilities, and therefore all of them exist somewhere in Shadow.
Any of my brothers and sisters-with the possible exceptions of Gerard and Benedict-would not even have given a second glance. I have become somewhat chickenhearted, however. I was not always that way, but perhaps the shadow Earth, where I spent so many years, mellowed me a bit, and maybe my hitch in the dungeons of Amber reminded me somewhat of the quality of human suffering. I do not know. I only know that I could not pass by the hurt I saw on the form of someone much like someone who had once been a friend. If I were to speak my name in this man's ear, I might hear myself reviled, I would certainly hear a tale of woe.
So, all right. I would pay this much of the price: I would get him back on his feet, then I would cut out. No harm done, and perhaps some small good within this Other.
I sat there, watching him, and after several hours, he awakened.
“Hello,” I said, unstoppering my canteen. “Have another drink?”
“Thank you.” He extended a hand.
I watched him drink, and when he handed it back he said, “Excuse me for not introducing myself. I was not in good manner...”
“I know you,” I said. “Call me Corey.”
He looked as
if he were about to say, “Corey of What?” but thought better of it and nodded.
“Very well. Sir Corey,” he demoted me. “I wish to thank you.”
“I am thanked by the fact that yon are looking better,” I told him. “Want something to eat?”
“Yes, please.”
“I have some dried meat here and some bread that could be fresher,” I said. “Also a big hunk of cheese. Eat all you want.” I passed it to him and he did.
“What of yourself, Sir Corey?” he inquired.
“I've already eaten, while you were asleep.” I looked about me, significantly. He smiled.
“...And you knocked off all six of them by yourself?” I said. He nodded.
“Good show. What am I going to do with you now?”
He tried to see my face, failed. “I do not understand,” he said.
“Where are you headed?”
“I have friends,” he said, “some five leagues to the north. I was going in that direction when this thing happened. And I doubt very much that any man, or the Devil himself, could bear me on his back for one league. And I could stand. Sir Corey, you'd a better idea as to my size.”
I rose, drew my blade, and felled a sapling-about two inches in diameter-with one cut. Then I stripped it and hacked it to the proper length.
I did it again, and with the belts and cloaks of dead men I rigged a stretcher. He watched until I was finished, then commented:
“You swing a deadly blade. Sir Corey -and a silver one, it would seem...”
“Are you up to some traveling?” I asked him. Five leagues is roughly fifteen miles.
“What of the dead?” he inquired.
“You want to maybe give them a decent Christian burial?” I said. “Screw them! Nature takes care of its own. Let's get out of here. They stink already.”
The Great Book of Amber Page 18
