The Road to Amber by Barbara Bretana - HTML preview

Chapter 53

George turned round and spoke to Corwin for a second before he returned his attention to the road. I felt the car make an abrupt change in speed, deceleration as we came to a complete stop. Corwin leaned forward to stare out the window, his arms on the front seat. “What is it?”

“Road block,” George said.

Merlin looked grim. “On an Interstate?” He pulled out a thing my mind called a cell phone but Corbel did not know its meaning. I watched as pictures appeared and vanished as his fingers moved on the screen. “Nothing on the news about an accident or road closure. Nothing about Homeland Security or DEA traps,” he said into the dead air. Outside our vehicle, horns began honking, beeping, in strident cacophony that escalated to our annoyance. Corwin un-belted, got out of the car and leaned back inside his door.

“Stay here.” I saw that he had Grayswandir in his hand. Murphy stirred beside me and Merlin gave me a sharp smile. “Ghost, are you here?”

The lights dimmed and brightened as that glowing wheel entered our dimension. “Dad,” it spoke and seemed to take a look at each of us.

“What’s going on, Ghost?”

“Don’t know. I’ll check. None of my data sources indicate an accident up ahead,” it started and before it could finish, something big hit us and flipped the car several times, picked it up and tossed us through the air. George’s head snapped back hard enough to stun him at the least. From the sound as he hit, I assumed his neck had cracked. Murphy’s seat-belt broke and he went flying out the open door, smashing me into the seat hard enough to knock out all my air.

When we landed, it was upside down and I could see my feet dangling, held in by the lap and waist belt. The car made strange noises, ticking and groaning sounds. Dripping fluids, splatters and hisses. Acrid fuel and white vapor were coming out of the front. Glass had shattered and was everywhere. I shook my head and tiny crystals winked in the sunlight off of my clothes and hair. The door on the other side of me wrenched open with a groan of tortured metal and a head peered in. No one I knew. A human face in a green uniform and carrying what my Raven memory said was a gun. An automatic with the capability to fire multiple shots and make me into Swiss cheese.

“Target acquired,” he spoke and pushed on my belly. Unlatched the belts and watched me as I fell on my head. I sucked in a breath and considered my aches and pains, nothing really new to add to the list. He grabbed me by the collar of my new jacket and dragged me out of the car. Over my head, I saw blue skies twirling crazily and smoke. Big fluffy clouds and jet contrails bisecting all the blueness. He dragged me through grass interspersed with gravel and although I knew it must hurt like a bitch, I didn’t feel anything. I blinked slowly, my body and mind in a nothing zone. I could hear his side of the conversation.

“No. Didn’t say anything, sir. Seems dazed. No obvious wounds I can see. Lots of glass on him. His eyes...eye is blank, pin-point. I think he’s drugged.” He paused. “No sign of anyone else. The driver looks dead. I popped him one in the head to make sure. Coming in.” He hauled me up with one hand and held me until my legs stood straight and firm. “Can you walk?” he asked, his face and eyes fierce but eminently human.

“Drummers beat,” I said.

He shook me. “Did you hit your head?”

“Fleas riot.” I stared at him.

“The target is addled, sir. Confused.”

“Phantom Opera!” I shouted and pushed at him. Took him by surprise as I placed my hand on his knife, a huge thing with a serrated blade over nine inches long and he didn’t have time to bring his rifle around from where he’d dropped it down by his leg the blade snicked through his throat and his head popped back trembling off his neck to go thumping blood burst out and hit me in the face but I was ready with my forearm so my eye wasn’t blinded his head hit the ground his surprised eyes looking not at me but his own headless corpse as I pushed it away to let it fall on his own face.

I hadn’t meant to slice so deep, the blade was heavier than I’d expected and my depth perception off. I pushed the gushing corpse over and removed the thing he wore in his ear hearing the voice I knew better than my own. The Master.

Spoke carefully, as clearly as I could, “Death twitches my ear. ‘Live,’ he says; ‘I am coming.’

I am the wound and the knife!

I am the blow and the cheek!

I am the limbs and the wheel---

The victim and the executioner!”

Only I heard his scream of outrage, a wounded bestial noise that promised me eternal torture and eventual death. I closed my eye and sent my senses out, caught the whiff of magic and started walking back through the grass of the center median ignoring the smoking vehicles, sirens and flashing lights. No one saw me as I trudged along the strip which separated the six lanes of traffic. It was heavily wooded and kept me hidden from any passing cars. I wandered like a zombie, my coordination off but my inner sense told me what direction I needed to follow. I saw other vehicles approaching the wreck and disgorging more human men dressed like the one that I’d killed. Looked at the huge knife I carried still in my hands and found a place for it in my pocket but it was so sharp and heavy, it tore a hole through and fell out, nearly taking my foot with it. I thought about going back for the sheath and realized that was both dangerous and stupid. I wondered where my guards and keepers were, wondered anew at the eagerness I was feeling at the thought of confronting the Master. I was still afraid of him, of what he would do to me, of whether I would bend to his will or if my new hatred and resolve would allow me to resist him. I knew without question or reservation, that this meeting would be our last.

As I walked, I barely noticed the sky changing colors or the grass becoming taller, wilder. The sounds of cars on the interstate faded away to the more mundane of birds, crickets and bees. I did notice when flying lizards appeared and my path became a game trail bordered by pansy faced flowers that watched my progress. Stones rolled under my feet and followed as if I were the Pied Piper. A harpy hovered over my head and shit on me. I cursed and before I could finish the words, she fell out of the sky, her feathers on fire that even her frantic rolling couldn’t put out.

“Logus power!” she screeched and burnt to a crispy chicken. The smell was foul, no pun intended and lingered like a dead polecat.

This place looked like a cross between the shadow world where Vialle had been held in the Tower and Chessaria. I could sense the magic here, it was strange and tasted strongly of both the Logus and the Courts of Chaos.

I walked out of the woods and into a meadow. At the far end stood a castle built of white stone that glittered in the sunlight. It was cool here, the hair on my arms stood up as I shivered.

The Logus materialized and bared my way. “You are not permitted entry here,” it challenged me. I snarled and opened my hand to throw a ball of energy at it, black, smoky and virulent. It caught it in a net yet it oozed out and covered it, squeezing it tighter until the Logus disappeared with a pop. I had no idea whether I had destroyed or merely banished it and I didn’t care.

There were no guards between me and the castle. I kept walking forward until I reached the drawbridge and the portcullis, both barred and drawn up. No moat surrounded the castle but green grass that glimmered as if made of glass. When I stared, it seemed to suck me in and wrapped my mind in stasis. Except my mind was damaged to the point it couldn’t understand me enough to ensnare me in its confusion. I saw the narrow path of safe passage if I squinted just so and set my feet upon it. It was like walking the Pattern only harder because it was nearly invisible. Halfway across, I lost the thread only to find the way using my newly acquired sense that detected magic. As I stepped through the last step, the gate came down and nearly crushed me. Only a sudden stumble saved me as I fell forward into the courtyard. Everything was white, blazing white save for drops of blood that glistened on the stones. Blue drops. I reached out a finger and tasted it, the blood proved to be mine. It had a rich, smoky flavor that I recognized as Dragon blood mixed with demon and human.

“Master,” I said climbing to my feet. “I am come.” I found him in the Throne Room, leaning back with careless indigence, his legs spread out in front of him. His skin was pale and he looked as if he was in pain. He no longer bore the image of Lucian Webster but his own face, Jurt. Demons attended him, working on his back and side.

“Corbel, my Blackbird,” he said huskily. He smiled. I felt his charm as he worked me.

“You are wounded, Master. I sense my blood runs through your veins and prevents you from magicking it healed.”

“Your dragon blood will kill any magic user, Corbel,” he agreed.

“Why did you send those humans for me, Master?” I was curious, knowing that my questions would enrage him.

“To bring you back to me, Corbel,” he answered quietly.

“To kill me, Master?” Behind me, I heard his guards moving almost silently as they surrounded me.

“If I had wanted you dead, Corbel, you would have died the first day after I took you.” He sat up and waved the guards back. “Why did you come?” His eyes glowed fiercely.

“I have no worth without you, my Lord,” I whispered. “I can find no comfort in my old shadow and skin. If I am to die, I want it to be at your hands and no other.”

“What are you saying, Corbel?” he demanded standing so that I had to look up at him.

“I want to die at your hands, Master,” I said humbly.

“I don’t want your death, Raven,” he said. “Not anymore.”

“Corbel, Master, not Raven. Never Raven. I am the Blackbird of your dark desires. My soul belongs to you.”

“And your heart?” he countered.

“I have none.” I went to my knees and held out my arms so that his soldiers could bind me. They approached and searched me, removing the dead man’s blade and binding my hands behind my back.

The Master rose with an effort and stepped down the six ceremonial steps to stand over me. Lifted me to my feet and leaned into my neck. He bit me with short demon fangs and I thrashed only a little as he drank at my blood. It was an ecstasy I had not imagined and I moaned as he strengthened and I weakened. His hands slid over my back searching. He found the bandages and the skin grafts. Lethargy filled me and my mind saw flashes of intense colors and images, none of which made sense. He probed my mind and saw the changes. “You are not lying,” he said in surprise. “Your mind is almost childlike. Simple. Easy to control. I can make you mine in ways I only dreamed about. I thought you wanted to kill me.”

“I did. I do. But I do not wish to live after. The worlds will be a better place when both of us are gone,” I said slowly.

He looked startled. “Corbel, what have you done?”

“I poisoned my blood with Dragonbane and you have just imbibed it. Even now, it courses through your body destroying your magic and power. As it runs through me,” I said and felt the first twinges hit my stomach. I grimaced and bent over. As a Dragon, the blood did me no harm, as a human, it was a deadly poison worse than anything the Thrid could inject me with.

He swung Werewandir and it bit deep into the stone steps, he lacked the power to raise it to my head. “Master, the worlds will not miss either of us. Sit down with me and let us meet our end together. As Master and slave who loved you.”

He growled deep in his throat and fell taking me with him. It was a race to see who would perish first. He with my poisoned blood or me lacking enough to keep my body and brain functioning. As I lay there with his body on top of mine, images of my childhood came back to me. I remembered a woman’s lovely face as she rocked me to sleep under mossy green dolmens, I remembered the stone man sweeping me through the sky as his wings propelled both of us among the steeples and belfries. I remember the softness of my first kiss and Roelle’s pansy purple eyes and the feel of a friend’s hand on my shoulder. I remembered too, how my daggers slid into my victims necks so that they bled internally, how it felt when my sword pierced lungs and hearts, how others shivered under my straining body as I violated them for my Master’s pleasure. I did not need to remember pain, it was always with me. What I needed to know was how others felt that pain and turn it back on Jurt. His eyes opened, dark, lost and wounded.

“I loved you,” he gasped, his lips blue, his face slowly turning gray as the oxygen left his tissues. He cut my bonds.

“I know, Master,” I told him softly. I felt his body shudder as his spirit left him. Gently, I pushed him off me and reached inside his shirt for the necklace he wore that contained my soul and the legion of others he had stolen. The guards stood around us yet made no move to attack.

I jerked the chain loose and held it to my lips, its cool surface soothed my burning face. I pictured the place I wanted in my mind with the Pattern foremost in my thoughts and I was there, lying on the floor of the carpeted tiles as Random leaped to his feet in alarm with drawn foil.

Here, guards attacked and held me under a ring of spears and sword points. I laughed feebly that they believed I was a threat to them. In the condition I was in now, I would be lucky to strangle a mouse. Random kicked them away and knelt at my side lifting me up by the material of my jacket.

“Raven! What have you done?”

“Majesty, Uncle,” I smiled and it was as if my face was cracking, I had almost forgotten how. “I killed him. The Master is dead. Worries no more.”

“Raven, what’s wrong with you? What has that bastard done?” He turned his head. “Get Dr. Flauvel! Find the Prince and King Merlin! Ghostwheel?” Men ran and I laid my head back as shudders gripped my frame. “Raven, look at me! Raven, open your eyes,” he ordered.

I did. “I’m sorry about Gracchus,” I whispered. “I owe you a life. Will you take mine?” I gasped for air, my fingers and toes were ice, I felt myself moving away from him in inches of time. A bright light grew in my vision. “Unicorn?” I murmured.

“No, Raven. It’s Ghost. Random, I’m scanning his body, he’s nearly exsanguinated and his tissues are sodden with Dragonsbane. I know of no medical solution.”

“Can you give him an antidote?” Random demanded. My body was taken up in strong arms and the sensation of being trumped somewhere filled my awareness. I heard Corwin and Merlin’s voices raised in shock and concern and after a little while, I could open my eye to see them gathered around me in a room all in white with charts of skeletons and organs on the walls. Their doctor was with them, the King, Rinlon, Roelle, the redheaded boy Marcus who had been my friend, Murphy and Vialle. Ghostwheel. I looked at Murphy first, beckoned him close.

“I release you,” I said and he shouted denials. “Would you die for me?” At his growl of assent, I added, “I would that you live for me. I release you.”

“What did you do, Raven?” Merlin demanded. “What did you take?”

“Dragonsbane mixed with my dragon blood. The Master took my blood from me, he died in my arms as he wished.” I looked at my grandfather. “I would ask if you would bury me in your cenotaph, Grandfather.”

Merlin cried out, “No!”

“Father. Dad. I leave your realm unchallenged. Your sword Werewandir rests at Cabra for your hand only. Your brother Jurt is no more, he has gone to his ancestors.” I gripped the chain that held our souls. “Dad? Will you...” My voice faltered. I moved as the pain washed over me like a tide of flames burning so hotly that they melted my bones.

“Raven,” my father had tears in his eyes.

“My soul,” I thrust the stone at his wavering image and Vialle laid her hand on my heart. The fire eased a trifle and my face smoothed out. “Didn’t want to live with this on my heart and head,” I ground out. “Was going to hang me, first chance. Even with you round, Murph.” Heaved a breath and couldn’t catch another. “Dad,” I whispered one last time.

Epilogue

The Unicorn came. Stepping daintily out of nothingness and pranced down the mile long red carpet upon the golden tiles of the Throne Room. Doors sprung open as she advanced and the occupants within fell back with mouths gaping in wonder to sink to their knees in obeisance. She traveled her way into the heart of Castle Amber with a growing crowd at her heels stopping only at the door of the small room that Dr. Flauvel called his clinic.

Her blue eyes flared like gas flames and tendrils of magic spiraled down her horn to dance across the lintel. As one, the room’s occupants looked up with tears in their eyes and the sound of sobbing. The King of Amber saw her first as his eyes reflected shock, awe and astonishment.

They stepped back as she entered the room to lay her head on the boy’s breast. No movement, no heartbeat could she discern and from her own eyes, two crystal tear drops fell to the ground with the sound of chiming bells. Her horn speared out and took the chain from Merlin, her silver cloven hooves smashed the gemstone into fragments that sparkled in wisps of rose colored glitter that hovered before they streaked for the windows and sky. There were thousands, lighting the room with the glow of a million candles and where they touched a hand or face, each person felt the soul who it carried and the blessed release she and the boy had given them.

The last one was a golden colored spark and Merlin held out his hand to watch it settle there. He closed his fingers around it and whispered, “my son. Beloved son. I wish you joy and no more sorrows on this journey.” His son’s soul glowed as bright as any nova.

Random ached to touch her, this living legend but was afraid. She brought to mind the tales of men who had dared to lay their hand upon her and been destroyed, of women claiming purity of heart and been victims of their own lies. She came to him and touched him lightly with her beautiful horn. “I would give it all up for his life back,” he said brokenly and Merlin vowed the same. She shook her head, the feathery strands of her mane drifted to the floor and she slowly backed out of the room to stand before the assembled ranks of the entire palace staff from the lowest pig herder to the King himself.

“Her horn,” a whisper broke the eerie quiet. “Her horn can cure the vilest poison, make the foulest water pure and crystal. She can heal him.”

Merlin came out to speak, “She cannot raise the dead and my son is no more.” His voice caught on the last and he choked. The stone gargoyle wrapped his arms around the King and consoled him. She left them, leaping forward and was gone yet no one saw her exit the room, or window or castle but the palace lost the air of enchantment when she was gone. Below them, the Pattern quivered, sending ripples felt all the way to the Courts of Chaos. The people crowded around the door, wanting to see the boy and wish him safe journeys, to say their goodbyes and offer condolences to both Kings and Queen.

He lay on the doctor’s table, his lips slightly parted as if waiting to take another breath, his skin as pale as alabaster marble, one eye still glowing golden as if his spirit had not fled. His hair was matted with sweat yet he smelled of fresh flowers and sharp mountain breezes.

They touched him, whispered prayers to him and bade him safe journey onto the next shadow forgiving him for what he had brought to Amber. The castle’s flags flew at half mast, the bells proclaimed their somber dirge that mourned the loss of King’s Heir and a King’s son.

Roelle and Vialle washed his tortured body and mourned the wounds anew. Stared at the sight of fang marks on his neck and how white his skin was without any blood to bring the peaches to his blush. Bathed his hair and brushed it back, marveling at the strands of silver in it for all that he was only seventeen. Saw the slight smile still upon his lips and wondered at what he’d found to laugh.

Both father and grandfather came and dressed him as befit a prince. White brocaded silk with gold thread, gems and braids. Dainty white slippers on feet that still bore the signs of his barefoot run across unforgiving forest floor. Upon his brow, they placed the royal crown of Amber’s Heir embossed with the Unicorn and the Pattern. Around his neck, Merlin laid the symbol of the Logus and the Courts of Chaos. They carried him in his coffin, a simple thing of white oak covered in blue silk to the Grand Cathedral where he lay in state for three days so that the entire kingdom, her neighbors and allies could come to pay their final respects.

The funeral was simple, yet elegant. Over a million came to the capital, more than had come to the Coronation of Eric or Random. Per the Prince’s request, honor was given to Sterling Orate, Steen, for his aid and sacrifice to the Crown of Amber. Vialle spoke of his courage and cried, she told them how the two had risked and paid all for her safety and rescue.

No one but the family and his friends saw him laid to rest beneath the immensely impressive monument that had been erected for Corwin when he was presumed dead. His name was etched below Corwin’s, the day of his birth and death. His father and grandfather lingered, hands rubbing the stone and brass words of the cenotaph. Read the words he had lived his life by.

Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.

The soul that knows it not, knows no release

From little things;

Knows not the livid loneliness of fear,

Nor mountains where bitter joy can hear

The sound of wings.

Courage.

When the last mourner had gone, only two people stood in front of the monument, their hands on the plaque that had only been erected in the last few hours. It bore the Prince’s name and his father ran his fingers along the recessed ancient script. “Raven,” he mourned and his father hugged him tightly offering unspoken comfort. There were flowers growing at the base of the monument and masses of them that stretched from the castle all the way to their feet. Arrangements sent by the kingdom and subjects from as far away as shadow earth. Above them, a dark shadow obscured the sun and Corwin looked up, shading his eyes.

“Murphy’s patrolling?”

Merlin looked at his father, frowning, his dark brows meeting together in that perfect arch that was part of the family look. “Dad, Murphy is with Rinlon and Roelle. She broke down and had to be carried to Dr. Flauvel’s.” Together, they looked up at the skies and slowly, Merlin’s face brightened until his smile reached his eyes. They watched as a large black form with huge wings circled overhead and blew a huge blast of flame and smoke into the sky. The black dragon settled neatly to the ground and tucked its massive wings into its shoulders, long neck lowered to their eye level. His great glowing eye was golden and when he opened his mouth, he exposed teeth as wicked, sharp and large as any monster. Merlin stepped back in trepidation, ready to cast a spell of protection about the two of them. Corwin laughed and patted the creature’s side and it turned its head to gently nudge him onto his back. He looked down at his son with the Dragon’s head resting on Merlin’s hands.

“Merlin, are you coming?” Corwin asked.

Merlin said, “Ghost? Are you here?”

Ghostwheel materialized at the end of the dragon’s nose and was totally ignored. It rumbled deep in its throat. “Uh, Dad,” the Ghostwheel said in nervous tones. “That’s a dragon.”

“Yes, Ghost, I’m aware of that,” Merlin replied, loosening the collar of his mourning suit. “My question is this, can you reach his mind?”

“His, Dad?”

I snorted little rings of smoke into the air and thought, “Hi, Ghost. See if Dad wants a ride.”

Merlin laughed joyously and swung up on my back as I leaped into the air with strong wing beats. Within seconds, I was a thousand feet above the castle. I could feel their excited heartbeats and heard their innumerable questions yet I couldn’t answer other than through Ghost. He expanded to fit around the tip of my nose horn which drove me nuts because it made me cross-eyed. Ghost asked me if I was still blind and I tilted my head to the right to show him the empty, scarred socket.

“How are you alive?” he asked for my father. I shrugged and nearly unseated my passengers.

“Sorry. I don’t know if I am alive. I don’t know. I remember all of you standing around me in that little room of the doctor and then, my---the Unicorn came and took my hand. Brought me to her bower, laid me on her bed and I went to sleep. When I woke up, I was back in this form. I died, didn’t I, Ghost?”

“Yes, Raven. Dad and Corwin, King Random buried you in Prince Corwin’s cenotaph. It was a beautiful ceremony, a Prince’s funeral. Did you watch?”

“No. I only...woke a little while ago. Flew in circles until I remembered my name and this place,” I admitted.

“Will you come back all the way, Raven? I mean, your human form?” Dad asked and waited for Ghost to translate my reply.

“I’m not sure how this works, Dad. I don’t think I have a human body anymore. Then again, the dragon body died too.” I stretched out my neck and flew over the city, my shadow making monster shapes on the ground. The citizens of Amber looked up and pointed. I felt a compulsion to return and changed direction to hover over the palace. Her standards were flying from the five towers and at half mast, my dragon vision picked out the short, red-headed man in jeans with the lady in green beside him.

“My Queen,” I thought and her face lifted, her magic allowed her to read my thoughts.

“Raven! I recognize your heartbeats!” she cried in delight and astonishment. She turned and spoke to her husband, my dragon hearing brought her words to me with perfect clarity.

I landed on the top courtyard on two legs and gently let my front down so that my Grandfather and Dad stepped off lightly. Tucked my wings close and arched my neck so that my head was level with hers. I rested my blind side without horns on her cheek, a delicate procedure as I was incapable of judging depth, a dangerous precedent as I could be attacked and killed as I was no longer capable of guarding that side. A sign of eminent trust. She kissed me and if a dragon could blush, I would have turned bright red.

I turned my attention to King Random as his guards bolted for our group having just arrived in the courtyard. He waved them back and Rinlon was among them. I saw him mouth my name.

“No need,” Random ordered. “The Throne of Amber has a new Protector of the Realm and a new standard. The Black Dragon of the Golden Eye, Raven.”

I looked at the King but spoke to Ghost, he relayed my words in my own voice and startled me. “Your Majesty, I owed you a life and paid with my own. I pledge my fealty to Amber and your throne. As long as I shall live and am the Dragon, I will guard against all invaders foreign and domestic, I swear this by the blood of the Unicorn and the Pattern.” I turned to my father. “King Merlin, my father, to you I pledge my honor and love, I will protect your life and your throne against all invaders excepting a war between your two kingdoms for I am the Balance between Order and Chaos, neither of which shall rule the other and I cannot choose.” I dropped to my knees and laid my neck on the ground between the two, the most vulnerable position a dragon could offer.

Merlin and Random shook hands over me and I reached into Shadow and pulled out Werewandir, the brother sword to my grandfather’s, to present to my father. He took the blade gingerly from me as Random quivered with a thousand questions.

The sun lowered and I felt a drawing within me. Without explanation or words, I leaped away into the sky flying back towards the woods and the Unicorn’s retreat. As the last ray of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, I was asleep beneath century old oaks with my head tucked under my wing. I dreamed of Amber and the boy Raven. A story I had somehow lived but it no longer seemed real. I woke with the dawn on the wing over the kingdom, guarding the land under my black wings.

The End.