John Betancourt - Dawn of Amber 2 - Chaos and Amber

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"Oberon!"

Over a roaring wind, I heard a distant calling of my name. I had been dreaming of sailing a small

boat across a churning, wind-swept sea; the dream clung to me, and I could not easily shake its tendrils

away. Where was I? My eyes were closed, but I sensed no light beyond them. Could it be nighttime, or

was I in a dark room? I heard what might have been either the rush of wind or the beating of a thousand

wings around me. My skin prickled all over with goosebumps, and I felt at once cold and hot, wet and

dry. When I tried to sit up and open my eyes, however, I could not. I found my lack of strength

vaguely troubling. But it was so easy not to care, to let myself slide back into the dreaming-

"Oberon! Wake up!"

Ships. I had just begun to dream of ships for a second time when that nagging voice broke in

again. The motion around me-a gentle rocking as from waves-reminded me of a ship's deck… but there

came no susurrant lap from the waves, no cries of gulls nor smell of briny sea.

No, not a ship, I decided, trying to focus my attention on the problem. Also not a horse; no

stamping hooves nor neighs nor smells of dung and horse-sweat. A moving carriage, perhaps? That

almost made sense. My father had a magnificent carriage, like a giant pumpkin made of spun glass. I

remembered my first and only ride in it; we had passed through dozens, maybe hundreds of nightmare

worlds. But that didn't explain why I felt both hot and cold. It didn't explain a lot of things.

Whatwas that roaring noise?

And why couldn't I open my eyes?

"Oberon!"

I tried to turn my head toward that distant voice but couldn't quite figure out where it came from.

Above me? Below? I had gotten turned around; every direction felt wrong, as though I teetered on the

edge of a cliff, about to fall. I shivered, and an impulse to flee came over me. I didn't like this place. I

didn't like the sensations of being here. I had to get out, now, before something horrible happened.

Once more I tried to rouse myself from sleep. With that effort, colors suddenly pulsed in my

head; lights sang and danced before my closed eyelids, and strange tastes and smells and textures

flooded my senses. The flavors of lemon and salt and roast chicken and straw all mixed together, the

smells of mud and sweat and honey-

If I dreamed, I dreamed strangely. Yet, somehow, I knew I wasnot dreaming… notquite ,

anyway. This was something else, something strange and unnatural and unpleasant.

"Oberon!" that distant voice bellowed. "Get your lazy ass out of bed! The king needs you!

Now!" The king. Yes, King Elnar needed me. I was one of his lieutenants. I tried to reach for my sword.

It must be time to muster the men-

No, that was wrong. King Elnar had died a long time ago… it now seemed a lifetime past. A

sour, discordant note crept into the sounds in my head; the dancing lights pulsed, bright and dark, dark

and bright. I reached for the memory, found it, shuddered at the sudden chill it brought. Yes, I

remembered too well… remembered how King Elnar fell at the hands of hell-creatures in Ilerium. I had

seen his severed head stuck on a pole in the mud outside of Kingstown, a warning and a trap for me

when I returned there unexpectedly.

"You killed me!" I had heard his accusing voice say, impossibly coming from that severed head

on the pole. "Traitor!" it called. "Traitor… !"

I'd opened my mouth to argue, but the words disappeared in a sudden roar of wind. In my mind,

I pressed my eyes shut, refusing to see, but the image lingered. And I knew he had been right.

King Elnar, the entire population of Kingstown, and countless thousands of soldiers-all had died

because of me. Hell-creatures had invaded Ilerium to find and kill me because my father was a Lord of

Chaos, commanding powers I could barely begin to understand.

Now, with King Elnar gone, I no longer served anyone but myself. I didn't have to listen to his

accusing voice. I didn't have to wake up. I didn't have to do anything I didn't choose to do.

"Oberon! On your feet!"

I tried to answer, to tell the voice to go to hell, but I could not make my body obey. That vaguely

bothered me. Had I been drugged? Had I been sick or grievously injured? Everything I remembered-

could it all have been some nightmare or wild fever-dream?

It all seemed so clear. I remembered my Uncle Dworkin, who had swept back into my life after

ten years' absence. Dworkin had saved me from a band of hell-creatures, announced himself as my true

father, and carted me off to a magnificent castle on another world… a castle full of people who claimed

to be my half-brothers and half-sisters. Aber and Freda… Locke and Davin and Blaise… too many for

me to take them all in at once.

And Iwas one of them; I had known it the moment I saw them. We all shared many traits with

Dworkin; clearly he had sired us, though with different mothers. I had never suspected my true heritage,

but now I recognized the truth of it: Dworkin reallywas my father.

In Juniper Castle I had learned I was born to a noble line of sorcerers. My family had its roots in

a place called the Courts of Chaos, the center of the universe, where magic was real. As I understood it,

all other worlds were mere Shadows cast by the Courts.

These sorcerers used something called the Logrus, which was a kind of shifting pattern or maze-I

wasn't quite clear on how it worked or what it looked like, since different people described it in different

ways. All I knew was it granted them miraculous powers, including the ability to move between Shadows

and summon objects from distant places. I hoped to be able to travel through it myself, but it seemed I

didn't have the ability to do so. I was a magical cripple as far as my family was concerned… even though

I had already learned to do a little bit of magic on my own. I could change my appearance for short

periods of time when I tried.

Unfortunately, our family was at war with an unknown enemy. This mysterious foe had been

tracking down and murdering all of Dworkin's offspring, and when he (whoever he was) discovered me

in Ilerium, I had become his next target. That was why Dworkin returned and rescued me. My father had

gathered all his surviving children together in Juniper, his castle stronghold, guarded by a hundred

thousand soldiers under the command of his eldest son, Locke.

Unfortunately, an even larger army of hell-creatures showed up to wipe us all out, and an epic

battle ensued. We carried the first day, but at a terrible cost. Our army was decimated, Locke died, and

dark sorceries had cut off everyone's access to the Logrus. With no magical means of escape remaining,

it seemed we were about to lose. Home, fortune, life; everything.

Fortuitously, it turned out I had a different sort of magic within myself… a Pattern-different from

the Logrus and yet related to it. Calling on its power, and with Dworkin's guidance, my siblings fled into

other Shadows, scattering like dust in the wind, hopefully to places where they would remain safe from

harm… at least for now. With our enemy's attention and troops focused on Juniper, we had at least a

short time to be safe.

Dworkin decided to return to the Courts of Chaos to seek help. Who had attacked Juniper?

Who was trying to destroy Dworkin's bloodline? We needed to find the answers.

I had accompanied him, along with my half-brother, Aber. I liked Aber best of all my siblings; he

was the only one who seemed to have a sense of humor, and he had been the only one to really take me

in and make me feel like I belonged. Aber had been the one who most helped me understand how

everything and everyone in our family worked.

A voice broke in on me again, over the sounds of wind:

"Oberon! The king! Rally to the king!"

"He's dead," I tried to say, but it came out a faint mumble.

"Did you hear that?" the voice asked. I did not think its owner was talking to me. "He tried to say

something."

"Oberon!" said another voice, lower in pitch, stronger. I recognized it instantly. It belonged to my

father. "Listen to me carefully, my boy. You must wake upnow-right now ! Don't hesitate.Do it !"

I was mad at my father, I decided. He had dragged me from my safe, cozy life in Ilerium, where

I'd known my place and my duty. I had been one of King Elnar's lieutenants, and I had been happy. This

whole nightmare-armies attacking, people trying to murder me and destroy our whole family-it was all

Dworkin's fault. Before his death, my brother Locke told me the truth of it: Dworkin brought all of this

down upon himself through an unfortunate affair with King Uthor of Chaos's daughter.

"Oberon! Look at me!"

Something hit me in the face. I heard the slap, felt it like a white-hot brand across my right cheek.

Rage crystallized within me. I forgot the rush of wind in my ears, the darkness and the confusion.

Nobody hits me and gets away with it.

I was like a drowning man struggling up through thick, heavy waters. Rage buoyed me upwards.

Distantly, I heard a groan. It was an awful, pitiful sound, not the sound a man-a warrior-should have

made. When I realized it came from my lips, I tried to stifle it.

And at that moment I opened my eyes.

Dworkin, my father, loomed over me, a short, almost dwarfish man of indeterminate years. He

had a look of intense concentration on his face, as though studying some specimen of scientific interest

rather than his own son.

I tried to speak, but no sound came out. The breath wheezed in my throat.

"Wake up, I said!"

My father slapped me a second time, hard. My head whipped back from the force.

Both cheeks stinging, I gritted my teeth and turned my head back to face him. My ears rang. The

whole room seemed to be whirling around.

As he raised his hand to strike me again, I grabbed his wrist and held it back.

"Don't-" I growled, "or I'll-break your-arm!"

He smiled toothily. "Ah. About time."

I released him and he lowered his arm.

Moving my head made the room swim drunkenly around me. I spotted my half-brother Aber

standing behind and to the side of Dworkin, studying me with clear concern. He seemed to be swaying

like a tree in a windstorm.

Turning my head farther, I discovered I lay on my back on a high, narrow bed. Slowly, half

groaning, I shifted to the other side. It seemed to take forever. The bed sat in a small, dimly lit room. My

eyes didn't want to focus on the far wall. It appeared to be made of blocks of red stone flecked with

green. A phosphorescent yellowish-green light oozed from between the stones and trickled up toward

the ceiling, where it pooled.

I pressed my eyes shut, then rubbed them with my fists. No, I definitely was not ready to see yet.

But Dad wanted me awake, and I assumed he had a damn good reason. He'd better, or I reallywould

break his arm. And maybe his neck.

Sucking in a deep breath, using every ounce of my strength, I managed to sit up. That was a huge

mistake. The room pinwheeled around me, doing its best imitation of a drunkard's stagger. My insides

convulsed in response, but disgorged nothing. I had no idea of how long it had been since I'd last eaten.

"Where am I?"

"Home," Aber said. "Our family's estates in the Beyond." At my puzzled look, he went on. "Close

to the Courts of Chaos. You know."

I didn't know, but my head felt ready to explode, and I couldn't muster much enthusiasm to care.

The roar in my ears returned. Groaning, I pressed my eyes shut and willed everything back to normal. It

didn't work.

We must have been out on some drinking binge last night: too much ale, maybe a fistfight or two,

hopefully a pair of comely barmaids well bedded. I had awakened from many worse things over the

years. The only thing was, I didn't remember any of it.

"How do you feel?" Dworkin asked me.

I hesitated. "Not quite dead."

"Do you know where you are?"

The last thing I remembered-

"The Courts of Chaos," I whispered.

"The Beyond is a Shadow of the Courts," said Dworkin, "so close to Chaos that the... ah,

atmospherics are almost identical."

I had hated the Courts of Chaos even before I'd come here with my father and Aber. I'd seen the

Courts distantly, through one of my sister Freda's Trump cards. Trumps had the power to open

doorways to other worlds. Just gazing at the Courts-strangely shaped buildings, lightning-filled sky, stars

that moved and whirled around like fireflies-made me physically ill. Looking back, I should have known

coming here would be a mistake. I should have refused to go when my father told me he planned to go to

the Courts of Chaos for help.

But I hadn't refused. I hadn't said a word. I'd gone with him because, despite a lifetime of lies and

deceptions, he was still my father, and I felt the full weight of my responsibility as his son. Duty and honor

had been drilled into me since I was old enough to know what they meant. He'd made sure of that.

Before Juniper could fall, we had used his Trump to get away. In the Courts of Chaos, blood

dripped up, stones moved like sheep across the ground, and somewhere, a serpent in a tower made of

bones worked dark sorceries to destroy our family.

If the Beyond truly was like the Courts of Chaos, that explained the walls, which now seemed to

pulsate gently as they wept their phosphoric light. Overhead, the high-beamed wooden ceiling began to

flicker like candles seen through a paper lantern.

Unbidden, a moan welled up from deep in my chest.

"Steady," said Aber.

"Keep him talking," Dworkin said to Aber, then turned and crossed to the other side of the room.

I couldn't see what he was doing at the table, nor did I particularly care at that point. I wanted to curl up

and go back to sleep.

Aber sat beside me on the edge of the bed. He had been my one true friend in Juniper, and I had

immediately sensed a real camaraderie between us. Now he seemed to drift in and out of focus as I

gazed up at him. The brown of his hair began to drip like the walls, colors running down his face. I

hesitated. It was him-but not quite. He had horns. His features were heavier, thicker, almost a parody of

the young man I knew. And yet… the other Aber… the Aber I knew in Juniper… seemed to be there as

well, superimposed on this one. He seemed to flicker back and forth between the two.

Quickly I looked away. Hallucinations? Madness? Maybe it was an effect of being so close to

the Courts of Chaos. Maybe it was me and not him at all. I had no way of knowing.

TWO <file:///D:/Books/Betancourt, John Gregory/Chaos and Amber.html>

"Why are we in this place… ?" I whispered, feeling my insides knot and twist like a serpent

swallowing its own tail. "I don't… understand…"

"Dad's trying to figure out what's wrong with you," he said softly, looking me in the eyes. "Don't

go to sleep. It's important. He doesn't want to lose you."

Lose me? What did that mean?

"Get me-out of-here!" I managed to gasp.

"It's more complicated than that," he said. "We can't leave. Someone is trying to kill us,

remember, and we have to find out why. And Dad's just been summoned before King Uthor. He has to

go. You don't ignore the King of Chaos."

"This place-hurts-"

His brow furrowed. "Maybe you just need to get used to it. You know, like on a ship."

"Sea legs…" I whispered, thinking of boats, as the world moved around me.

"Yeah. Chaos legs." He chuckled.

I tried to rise and found some leverage with my elbows, but couldn't keep my balance. I fell in the

wrong direction. Aber grabbed my arm and helped pull me upright.

Why did everything want to goup instead ofd own? And why didup keep moving to the sides? If

it would all stop for a minute, I thought I'd be able to get my bearings. My head began to pound.

"Steady."

Without being asked, Aber rose, took my legs, and swung them around and over the side of the

bed. Big mistake; I almost passed out as the room seemed to twist down and away, moving out from

under me.

I gasped. This couldn't be happening, couldn't possibly be real. The room was strangely shaped.

No corners met at right angles-walls curved and the ceiling sloped in an architect's nightmare. It was also

sparsely furnished: a tall lookingglass, the bed on which I now sat, a table pushed up against the far wall,

and two heavy wooden chairs whose high backs had been carved with the likenesses of dragons.

"Let's get you up," Aber said.

"Wait-"

Reaching down with my feet, I touched the floor with the tips of my toes. Hard, bare, no carpet,

just wood that had been polished smooth as glass. It seemed fine. I frowned. So why couldn't I get my

balance? Why was everything moving?

Aber glanced over his shoulder at our father. "If you pass out again, Dad will skin you alive."

"But-"

"Don't be a baby about it! Just get up!"

I glared, but shut up. He didn't understand. Well, I'd just have to show him. It wasn't possible for

anyone to stand here with the floor moving so much.

"Stand up!" he said. "On your feet, Oberon!"

"Help me-"

With a sigh, Aber draped my right arm over his shoulder and heaved. He was stronger than he

looked, like everyone in my family, and he got me up with little trouble considering I must have weighed a

hundred pounds more than he did.

Leaning on him, I stood unsteadily. The room kept shifting. The corners moved. The floor kept

trying to slide away from under me. Without Aber propping me up, I would have fallen.

"There you go," he said, cheerful as always. "First things first. Chaos legs. See?"

He let go. For a second, it wasn't so bad. I steadied myself on his arm and actually thought about

trying to walk. Maybe I could make it a few feet.

Then the walls spasmed with reds and yellows. The floor heaved. I felt myself falling and seized

his arm hard enough to make him yelp.

"No-you-don't!" He staggered under my weight, bracing himself.

A fierce humming noise filled my ears. The room spun and slipped, and I felt myself going over

backwards. Aber quickly caught my shoulders and lowered me back to the floor with a grunt.

I hugged the broad wooden boards, feeling the universe spin, praying that everything would stop

moving soon. What sort of placewas this? I couldn't even stand up here.

Pressing my eyes shut, I tried to block this place from my mind. I willed myself back to Ilerium. It

had worked once before, after all.

But it didn't now.

"Want to try standing again?" Aber asked.

"No!"

"At least sit up," he said. "You can do it. Try."

"Maybe…"

Taking a deep breath, I eased myself up and braced my feet against the floor. The walls seemed

to slide around me like they weren't fastened down. But at least I was sitting now.

"Better," Aber said. I noticed he was rubbing his arm where I'd grabbed him. "We'll take it

slowly.""I need sleep," I growled. "Then I can wake up from this nightmare!"

"You'll get the hang of it. Give yourself time."

Time? I had always been able to walk, even when I was so drunk I could barely see. But I could

tell he wasn't going to let me rest.

"Give me a hand-I'll try again."

"Are you sure?" Aber said, hesitating. He rubbed his arm again. I must have really hurt him.

"Sorry about your arm," I said. Sighing, I looked up at his face. He flickered: horns, no horns,

horns. I had never felt so dizzy and disoriented.

"Don't worry," he said. "Accidents happen. I heal fast, and I'm happy to carry a grudge." He

chuckled. "I'll get even when you least expect it, dear brother. Maybe you ought to sit still for a while."

Slowly I began to crawl toward the bed. It felt like a trip across a constantly moving sheet of

ice-tipping first one way then another, with me hanging on desperately and trying not to slide away.

Maybe I could use the bed to balance myself. Mostly I tried not to think about throwing up.

As I reached the bed and began to climb back onto it, Dworkin hurried over, grabbed a fistful of

my hair, and yanked my head back. I felt my eyes roll in panic as colors and lights burst like fireworks

around me.

"Let go!" I cried. It came out more like the howl of some haunted beast.

Shoving his face close to mine, he peered into my eyes like a physician studying a new patient. I

smelled wine on his breath and knew he'd been drinking. That wasn't a good sign. He'd drunk himself

into a stupor in Juniper when faced with overwhelming problems. With a comment of, "Interesting," he let

go. I fell flat with anoomph of lost air. Then I curled up in a ball on the floor. My breath came in

shudders. I wanted to pull the universe in on top of me.

"Do not go to sleep," Dworkin told me firmly.

I peered up at him through a haze.

"Why?" I whispered

"Because you will die."

I groaned. "I'm too stubborn to die."

"Then you are a fool, my boy."

"Send me back to Juniper!" I begged. "Or Ilerium. Anywhere but here!" I would rather face an

army of hell-creatures alone and unarmed than put up with this Shadow of the Courts of Chaos for

another minute.

"Quiet, Oberon," he said. He began to pace. "I need to think."

As the room began to steady once more, I forced myself to roll over toward the bed. I leaned

back against it, watching him. As long as I remained motionless, barely breathing, the room seemed

almost steady.

"Can I do anything to help?" Aber asked.

Dworkin said, "Try this."

As I watched, he reached into the air and, seemingly from nothingness, pulled down a large

reddish-brown clay pitcher. That was another one of those Logrus tricks. Wine? Something stronger,

hopefully. I needed a drink right now. I needed it desperately. I wasn't sure I could keep it down, but I

welcomed the chance to try.

Aber accepted the pitcher with his left hand, then reached down, grabbed my shirt, and hoisted

all two hundred and forty pounds of me to my feet as though picking up a kitten. When he released me, I

teetered unsteadily. Colors leaped and pulsed around me; my vision dimmed, then brightened, then

dimmed again. The scream of wind in my ears grew wild and discordant.

"Whiskey?" I gasped. "Brandy?"

"Afraid not," Aber said.

"What-?"

"See for yourself."

Without warning, he raised the pitcher and dumped the contents over my head.

I gasped. It was cold water.Very cold water. Water so icy it shocked and numbed my entire

body. Stunned, I didn't move, couldn't breathe. I just stared at him, feeling like a whipped dog thrown

out into the pouring rain in the dead of winter just in time to be kicked by a runaway horse.

"Now," said Aber, "we're even." He grinned mischievously at me.

Folding my arms, I silently cursed all siblings to the worst of the seven hells. Fathers, too. A

special torture-pit must be reserved for the gleefully malevolent. Dworkin had doubled up with laughter.

So I glared at both of them and waited for their composure to return.

"Remember, Oberon," Dworkin said sharply, catching his breath. He leaned toward me, one

stubby finger leveled at my eyes. As I focused on him, his entire body seemed to waver like a flame in a

strong breeze. "No sleeping. If you go to sleep, there is a good chance you will never wake up."

I gave a low growl of displeasure. I wasn't sure if I meant it for him or Aber.

"We need to talk," I said to Dworkin.

"Not now." He returned to the table, gathered up half a dozen scrolls scattered there and hurried

out the door.

"When-" I began.

The door slammed before I could finish. I looked at Aber.

"Off to see the king," my brother said with a half sigh. "I told you he'd been summoned,

remember?"

"Why?"

"Dad petitioned for an audience. It took a while. Everything has its proper time and ceremony.

And I'm afraid Dad isn't held in very high regard at the Courts. None of us is."

What rot. I saw the truth. The delay was a deliberate insult… King Uthor's way of letting us

know we weren't important enough to merit his attention. We would have to change that. Being here was

the first step. Making ourselves important would be the second.

Right now, though, I felt like crawling into bed, pulling the covers over my ears, and hiding from

the world for the next ten years. Fathers and their advice be damned, if I could just get rid of Aber…

"You should go with Dad," I suggested.

"Hah! He would never let me." A sour note crept into his voice.

"I'm not like you…"

"He didn't ask me."

"No, he wouldn't. Not with you being sick. He would have taken Locke, though. He was always

the privileged one. The favorite son. And now there's you, of course. As soon as you're well, you'll take

Locke's place."

"If you're not happy with your place here, do something about it."

He chuckled. "What do you suggest? Should I murder my way to the top of the family? Make

sure I'm the last male heir, so he has to depend on me whether he likes it or not?"

"No. But I'm sure there's something…"

"Uh-uh. Dad doesn't like me. That's not going to change." He smiled a bit at my expression. "Ido

have a plan, though, and Iam doing something to help. I don't stand around all day whining about my

place in the family, you know."

I gave him a searching look, but he didn't elaborate. I changed the subject.

"I don't suppose you have any intention of letting me go back to sleep?"

"Nope." He focused on me and grinned wolfishly. His horns were back. "One must take these

small pleasures as they come. Just try, and I'll empty a lake on your head!"

"You're a sadist!"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

I gave him a half-hearted glower. "Then how about a towel? And maybe some dry clothes."

"Well… not just yet, dear brother. I've been ordered to keep you awake, and that's what I'm

going to do. I don't want youtoo comfortable just yet."

Dripping, cold and miserable and thoroughly wide awake now, I stumbled to one of the

dragon-backed chairs, sat heavily, and glared at him. At least the room wasn't moving so much anymore.

Maybe there was something to his "Chaos legs" theory. Or the ice-water had shocked the worst of the

disorientation from me.

"Iam going to kill you, you know," I promised. "Don't think this is over."

He gave a thoroughly evil chuckle.

"First you have to catch me," he said, "and I don't think you're up to it."

At that remark, I rose and took a step toward him. The room jumped and shook. My skin

seemed to be on fire. Winds howled in my ears.

I ignored everything and took another step. No matter what it cost, I wouldn't let him get the

better of me. That was the difference between us. No oneever got the better of me.

"You ought to sit down," he said hastily.

"No." I gritted my teeth and took another step. Then another.

"You're going to fall."

"You'd be amazed at what I can do," I said, "when I put my mind to it."

One foot at a time. I took another step. Everything around me swayed. That howling noise, like

wind but a hundred times louder, filled my ears.

Chaos legs, indeed.

I reached for him.

Aber gulped.

THREE <file:///D:/Books/Betancourt, John Gregory/Chaos and Amber.html>

I don't know if it was the shock of the cold water or just getting up out of bed and moving

around, but it came to me suddenly, as I was advancing with malicious intent on my brother, that I had

stopped paying so much attention to the strange noises, pulsing colors, and seemingly random movements

of the universe around me. Instead, by focusing all my attention on fratricide, I found myself at least

beginning to compensate for the distractions around me. With effort, Icould stand and walk on my

own-if awkwardly and unsteadily. A small improvement, but an important one.

Aber suddenly laughed, then reached into the air, felt around for a second, and plucked a large

white towel seemingly from nothingness.

"Here." He threw the towel in my face. "You're no fun when you're wet."

"About time you realized it."

I shook my head like a dog caught in the rain, mindless of the way the room suddenly lurched and

dipped, just to spray him with droplets. A petty revenge; I quickly regretted it.

"Hey!" He shielded his face.

That gave me some small satisfaction. Then, as I began to blot myself dry, he flopped down on

one of the chairs, watching me like a hunter studying an unfamiliar beast. Somehow, I got the impression

he didn't trust me not to keel over dead or unconscious at any moment. Well, he had me up, and now I

had no intention of resting. Sick or not, I had to find out what I'd missed. We hadn't come here for me to

waste time sleeping.

"How long was I in bed?" I demanded.

"Three days."

"Three!" I stared at him, scarcely able to believe it. "Impossible!"

He shrugged. "We've been busy. Dad finally decided you weren't going to wake up on your own,

so we spent the last three hours talking to you, shaking you, and yelling at you. You only started to

respond when he told you some king needed you. Not King Uthor, I guess?"

"King Elnar. I served him in Ilerium." I shook my head, then winced as it suddenly throbbed; the

room whirled around me, then steadied a bit when I stopped moving. "I barely heard you. I was

dreaming. I thought I was sailing on a ship."

"A ship? Why?"

"This room-this place-it all feels like it's moving. It still does. But it's not, is it? It's me?"

"Afraid so, Oberon."

I sighed. When I stayed still, the room largely stopped jumping around. Turning slowly and

carefully, making no sudden movements, I found the floor seemed to glide subtly underfoot, as though

trying to shift with or against me depending on which way I turned. Cold and damp and sick and

altogether miserable just about summed up my condition. But for now the worst of the dizziness had

passed, and with it at least some of my desire to strangle Aber.

Feeling less like a drowned dog, I threw the towel back at his head. He caught it, tossed it aside,

and made it disappear with a snap of his fingers as easily as he had appeared it.

"No sleeping," he warned me again.

"Not much chance of that withyou on guard. How about some food?" I felt a yawning emptiness

inside. "And wine. Lots of wine."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

I hesitated. He was probably right.

"Okay, skip the wine. I'm starving. If you can find it, I want something plain. Bread, cheese,

maybe a meat pie-whatever you can scrounge up on short notice."

He hesitated, glancing toward the door. "The dining hall is downstairs. Dinner won't be served for

another two or three hours. Do you think you can make it?"

"I… I think I'll eat here." I wasn't ready for stairs just yet.

He reached into the air and pulled a dinner tray from nothingness, then set it on the table. Bread,

cheese, a sharp knife, and a large glass of what looked like cider of some kind.

"Thanks. Join me?"

"Not yet. I-"

He broke off as a bell sounded outside. It rang three times, then grew still. From the way his

brow furrowed, I didn't think it was good news.

I said, "What's the alarm for?"

"Visitors."

"The unwelcome kind?"

"I… don't know." He rose, took a step toward the door, paused. "Don't go to sleep," he said

ominously, "or else. There's plenty more water where that pitcher came from. I'll be back in a couple of

minutes."

"I won't go back to sleep," I said with a chuckle, trying to appear innocent. "After three days of

it, lying down is the last thing on my mind right now."

"Hmm." He gave me a suspicious look, then shut the door. I heard his footsteps receding on the

other side.

The food did look good. I carved a large chunk off the cheese and chewed it slowly. Sharp and

well aged, with a slightly smoky aftertaste, it was quite delicious. I took another bite. No sense waiting

for my brother if he wasn't going to eat.

The bread, warm and crusty, went well with the cheese. The cider didn't appeal to me much-it

had always struck me as a child's drink unless properly laced with spirits-but it washed everything down

satisfactorily.

I finished everything, then sat back, feeling full and vaguely content. No sounds came from the

hall, and the bell did not ring again.

Then I heard a distant banging sound, followed by a couple of softer bangs. Doors? Windows

opening to air out some long-unused parlor?

Much as I hoped for a simple, harmless explanation, doubts crept in. What was happening down

there? Where had Aber gone? Why hadn't he come back?

As I listened for Aber's returning footsteps outside the door, my apprehension grew. I hated

being sick and disoriented. I was used to being in control of every situation, a leader and not some

helpless invalid. If anyone attacked us, I would not be able to leave this room, let alone protect Aber or

fight my way clear of the building.

I strained to hear over the constant low hiss of wind. No clash of weapons nor screams from

dying guards reached me. If we were under attack, wouldn't I hearsomething ! Our visitors had to be

friendly. Probably neighbors paying a social call; after all, Dworkin hadn't been here in years. Wouldn't

everyone want to stop by, say hello, and catch up on all the gossip for old times' sake? That must be it.

As host, Aber couldn't get away. Nor would he want to let them know about my illness. We couldn't

reveal our weaknesses to anyone here.

A long silence stretched. The wind rose slightly. I picked at the crumbs on my plate, gulped the

dregs of the cider, and waited impatiently. Doing nothing had always been hard for me. The chair

creaked slightly as I shifted. Not so much as a whisper came from the outside.

It had been at least half an hour. Aber wouldn't have left me here this long unless something had

happened. Who were these mysterious visitors? What did they want?

I heard a crash like that of breaking glass, fairly close, and stood. Guests didn't go around

breaking windows. Something was definitely wrong.

It couldn't hurt to take a look outside. After all, nobody had told me Icouldn't leave the

room-just that I couldn't go back to sleep.

Bracing myself against the arms of the chair, I rose. The room wobbled a bit, but steadied when I

remained motionless for a couple of heartbeats. Where was my swordbelt? There-hanging on a peg to

the left of the door.

Half walking, half gliding across the shifting floor, I made my way safely to the other side, took

my swordbelt down, and fastened it around my waist. The calm before battle settled over me. If I was to

die, I would die like a man, with a blade in hand. My sword's cool silvered hilt felt comfortable and

reassuring as I rested my palm upon it.

And then everything suddenly began to tilt to the left; I braced myself against the wall and pressed

my eyes shut.Stop it, stop it, stop it ! Slowly, equilibrium returned.

Like an old man, I eased my way over to the door, straining to hear over the dull distant rush of

wind. For a second I thought I heard angry voices, but couldn't be certain.

Lifting the latch, I pulled the door open smoothly. Good; Aber hadn't barred it from outside.

Clearly he didn't think I'd be foolish enough to go exploring on my own.

I carefully peeked out into a long stone corridor that seemed to be oozing reds and browns. As

with my room, all the angles seemed wrong. Doors opened at irregular intervals on both sides, with what

might have been oil lamps burning in sconces every few feet between. Light dribbled in faint golden trails

toward the ceiling, where it pooled.

My head swam as I tried to take it in. Aber and my father seemed to have no trouble walking

around; what was their trick? Perhaps it had something to do with the Logrus. I felt a rising sense of

depression; I didn't think I'd ever get used to this place.

Thankfully, no hordes of hell-creatures rushed to attack me. In fact, I saw no one at all. If that

bell had signaled the arrival of guests, they were still downstairs. I listened for a long time, but heard

nothing-no banging, no breaking glass, no angry voices. Had I imagined them? I didn't think so, but in this

place, I really couldn't be sure.

While the floor tried to push me into the wall, I braced myself and waited for my sense of balance

to return. It did, but slowly.

This place was insane. The sooner we left, the better off we would be. I didn't see how I could

possibly help anyone here.

The hallway appeared to dead-end thirty or so feet to the right, which meant Aber must have

turned left. The passage curved out of sight in that direction.

I hesitated. I needed a plan. What exactly did I hope to accomplish with this little expedition? Did

I want to check on Aber and these mysterious visitors?

No, not yet. If my brother had run into trouble, I was in no condition to help him. In fact, I'd

probably make things worse by needing rescue myself. And if-as I half suspected-some of our neighbors

had dropped in, I did not want to reveal my weakness to them. Better to let everyone wonder what had

become of me.

The thing to do was reconnoiter. I wouldn't go far; no sense in getting lost. Perhaps I could find

my father's rooms… there might be something there that could help me.

Keeping one hand on the wall, I turned-and found myself face to face with one of the most

beautiful women I had ever seen. I took a deep breath. Her black hair shimmered with bluish highlights.

Her eyes held the honeyed color of molten gold. Her skin, pale as milk, held the faintest of blushes at her

cheeks-save for a small beauty mark on the left. From her high, finely drawn cheekbones to her delicate

chin to the sensuous fullness of her deep red lips, I had never seen anyone like her.

Where had she come from? One of the other rooms on this floor?

"Hello!" I said.

She looked startled for a second, then dropped her gaze to the floor and curtsied. "You are…

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"Oberon!"Overaroaringwind,Iheardadistantcallingofmyname.Ihadbeendreamingofsailingasmallboatacrossachurning,wind-sweptsea;thedreamclungtome,andIcouldnoteasilyshakeitstendrilsaway.WherewasI?Myeyeswereclosed,butIsensednolightbeyondthem.Coulditbenighttime,orwasIinadarkroom?Iheardwhatmighthavebeeneithert...

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John Betancourt - Dawn of Amber 2 - Chaos and Amber

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