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Beltaine played by Jane Winter. The new, strange sky seemed to stretch forever, with only the full moon left to disturb its utter blackness. No stars. No stars ever anymore. I missed them. The moon looked lonely now, and my first home impossibly remote. The stairs to the sky city shimmered and stabilised. The ravens at the foot of the steps watched as we passed, their eyes dark mirrors. Tamarind and I were setting out to rescue me. Wha...? Several things about this didn't make sense. Aside from the obvious - that as far as I knew, I had been pretty thoroughly rescued already - there was the question of what Tamarind was doing in my dreams. It was Tamarind, I sensed, not me dreaming of him. More like...well, like someone else dreaming of both of us. For the first time in as long as I remembered, I was inside a dream I couldn't control. Whose? We reached for one another's hands, and his by now familiar psychic voice expressed bewilderment, and a certain fascination. I, on the other hand, was divided between panic and fury. I didn't like being helpless on what I had come to think of as my own ground. Didn't like it at all. The ravens, a shadowy presence impossible to pin down, followed us as we retraced Tamarind's earlier steps through a ghostly Castle Amber to my reflected prison. Here it appeared as a sphere of mirrored silver, though I understood that back in the waking world it had been transparent. And back in Amber there hadn't been an expectant-looking raven perched on the windowsill outside my rooms. Oh - and one other thing. The last time Tamarind tried this, the sphere had dissolved rather gently, freeing me to answer Tamarind's Trump contact and escape. Not shattered into a million glimmering pieces at the first touch of Power... The dream shattered with it, and we came awake. Probably. I had raised my hands in my sleep to protect my face from the sphere's destruction. Hands. I blinked. Something wrong with my hands. Could see through them. A wild glance in the mirror seemed to show me my own ghost, not merely pale and interesting but transparent. Faded. Just as Persephone, before she left me forever. The memory of my mother pushed me further along the road to full-blown panic, and I clung desperately to Tamarind, demanding promises that we were really, truly awake now. I was relieved to be able to cling; I half expected to have my hands pass through my cousin's like those of a true ghost. Who had done this to us? Why? Tamarind (once he had calmed me down a little) wondered if whatever had happened to me inside my 'chrysalis' had strengthened the links between Amber and Tir Na N'Ogth at the same time as it had balanced the Real and Unreal inside of me. I shied away from thinking about Owen and Lucien, who had emerged from that same sphere diminished and near death, minds eaten away by cruel and seemingly endless dreams. I hadn't dreamed at all. Instead, I had caught glimpses of passing events in the waking world, watching my cousins and others I cared for undergo trials I could never have imagined - and in which I could offer them no help, no comfort. All I could do was watch. They had changed the world while I lay dreaming. And I had emerged whole, almost dizzy with life and health, bursting with energy. "Ravens are often seen as guides, in mythology." Tamarind was trying to be cheerful on a couple of hours sleep. "Or symbols of death," I muttered. These ravens, I felt, had been neither of those things. They had watched us - but on whose behalf? Tamarind wore the amethyst soulstone now - was that how we came to share a dream? I did feel linked to him somehow since he had freed me - I caught myself keeping close to him, watching him as though afraid I would disappear if I lost sight of him. As if I were only real because he had wanted it. Like a dream of myself; my own ghost. I felt surprisingly refreshed by the few hours' rest we had had; also hungry. I seemed always to be hungry now - I suppose my body felt it had a lot of lost time to make up. Over pancakes, we kicked around various speculations, pretty much going round in circles but gradually feeling calmer and more in control of things. Just after dawn, we were ready to join Tristan and the others in Amber as requested. I had been reluctant to return to my old rooms in Amber where I had been imprisoned - once I learned of my father's return, I had extended this reluctance to the whole of Castle Amber, and Tamarind had offered the hospitality of his Shadow. I liked the place, but was beginning to wonder where I should turn for a home of my own. I had never bothered to seek out a Shadow to be my own place, my tie to Tir Na N'Ogth keeping me in Amber, and my affection for Random and Vialle making it seem in any case my natural home. But my father, back from the dead, changed all that. I would not willingly stay under the same roof as Brand. And if I stayed in Shadow - especially if I could locate one of the rare places where Trump would not reach - then he could not find me, not in the Shadow body he now inhabited. So far, I had avoided meeting him. I was aware that eventually I would have to, if I were not to cut myself off from Amber completely, but I hoped the occasion might be as far off as possible. I wasn't ready to meet the man who had left my mother and myself to die. Oh, and tried to destroy the Universe, obviously. Back in Amber, we were welcomed with the comforting news that Tir Na N'Ogth had remained in the sky for longer than usual, faded more slowly. "You see?" chirped Tamarind, as if evidence in favour of his 'you have strengthened the bonds between two worlds' theory should be somehow comforting instead of - how to put this? - profoundly disturbing. At least, it would have been disturbing if I could take it totally seriously. It's hard to take things seriously when you half believe you're still asleep and dreaming. Easier to just go with it and see what happens. After breakfast (well, the pancakes had been hours ago....) we accompanied Tristan to the Pattern room. I didn't know why he wanted to walk the Pattern, and after studying his face (sad and thoughtful, and a little grim) I decided against asking. I probably had no right to know. A while later, Tristan took his last spark-shrouded step, and I breathed properly again. He looked quite calm, and his voice was quite level as he said simply: "There is something I have to do now. Contact me in a few minutes." And there he was: gone. Contacting him produced the request that we go 'somewhere nice' and then get in touch. Uncle Tristan being mysterious. Curiouser and curiouser. We opted for Haven - and waited. When Tristan joined us, he had a young boy with him. And he was angry. Not out-of-control angry, not raging, just something about his eyes, and the edge of his voice. I had never seen Tristan angry, and I learned something important right then and there - I never, ever, wanted him angry with me. Uncle Tristan had always been a comforting kind of person, the grown up who never laughed at my dreams, always a ready shoulder to cry on and a reassuring word. For the first time, I got a glimpse of the man who had been strong and determined enough to escape Oberon. Who had survived centuries of hiding, and danger, and grief. The best word I can come up with is focussed. It wasn't the first time I had found myself surprised by people I thought I knew. I was starting to realise just what a sheltered existence Random had contrived for me to grow up in. Sure, there had been people in Amber (Caine, Julian, Margot...) who didn't like me and showed it, but I had always known with absolute confidence that Random, Gerard, Tristan and my older cousins would never let anything bad happen to me. Even trapped in the bubble, I had known that someone would come for me, and they had. But everything was so different now. Far stranger than any vision I ever had. And either my cousins were changed too, or I had never really known them. I had never seen Tristan angry. I had never realised Damien was so dangerous, or could be so badly hurt. Behind Tamarind's exquisite manners and mask lay a power and sense of purpose I had never dreamed of. Caleb was changed beyond recognition. For the better; but I still miss At least Ibrahim seemed the same as always. Still in that same, still voice, Tristan introduced the boy as his son. The child did have a look of him - but of someone else, too. Brand. The only name he had to give for himself was 'Twenty'. Tristan promptly re-named him - or named him, I suppose - 'Duncan'. He looked a nice enough kid, standing there politely and gazing around wide-eyed with those blue eyes at Haven's greenery as if he had never seen the like before. I took him off to the kitchen for something to eat, and to give Tristan and the others a chance to talk. He really didn't seem to know much about anything. His wondering ignorance brought back painful memories. When Gerard brought me out of Tir, I had never seen the sun, or complete darkness. At the end of my first day in Amber, I had run to him in tears, sobbing that the sun was drowned in the sea. I hadn't known about rain, non-magickal food and drink, other children... Bacon sandwiches. That seemed to cheer him up. We made extra for the people outside, and went back out. A purple and silver furry beast wandered up and attached itself to Duncan in friendly fashion. That's Tamarind for you - adoption of waifs and strays a speciality. Tristan hustled Esmée and myself back into the villa, and filled us in on events. My favourite Uncle, his brain clearly unbalanced at the prospect of regaining his lost amour, had allowed my father to take control of his body from time to time. Father had taken advantage of this kindness to create Duncan, a Pattern-imprinted body ripe for possession, and wipe Tristan's mind of all memory of the project. So much for people (principally Tristan himself) telling me he had changed. I was appalled, of course. And shaken with anger. But how could any of them be surprised? He didn't exactly hold any records for good parenting, or healthy family relationships. Tristan took the boy off 'somewhere safe'. If anywhere was. We waited. I asked Damien if he could teach me to fight. So far, my record in combat situations hadn't been great - it's all very impressive to be able to shatter metal weapons with one scream, but not much use when you take them out on your own side as well as the enemy's. I was tired of being a liability. I was very tired of watching from the sidelines. And I was feeling violent. He bred Duncan for a body. Why did he breed me? When Tristan came back and announced an imminent visit to 'discuss' matters with Brand, I decided to go along. If I could stay angry enough, I could face him. Besides - as Damien reminded me - I had all the rest of them to hide behind. I was prepared for everything except his smile. I'd forgotten what it was like, the way his eyes lit up, his whole face softened, just for me. It was the smile I'd always thought he would wear when he finally came back for me, to take mother and me home. When I still believed he would ever come back. Just for a minute, it made me want to throw my arms around him and burst into tears. It was fifteen years too late for that, though. Not counting bubble time. Fifteen years, and what he'd done to Tristan. Skipping the preliminaries, Tristan wandered over and punched him. A short explanation later, Brand was still protesting puzzlement at his reaction. Listening to him made my head spin, and I had to hold on to Tamarind again. I felt sick. I had known he was mad, of course, but actually seeing it for the first time was...horrible. He really couldn't see the world in the same way as we did - to Brand, everything and everyone existed only in relation to himself and his desires. It was normal to do whatever he felt like to get whatever he wanted. End of story. He hadn't come back sane. I couldn't imagine that he had ever been sane. And I didn't think he ever would be. I realised that I had been hoping to find him cured, somehow not the monster I had always been told he was. He was worse than a monster - he was a monster who made you sad for him even as he horrified you. An incomplete monster, who should have been so much more. I wil The others continued to beat their heads against the brick wall of his attitude for a while, but eventually Damien called in the King. Reason had failed; maybe ultimatums and Royal dicta would succeed (though I had my doubts about those too). Random placed Duncan under his own protection, and (my own suggestion, earning me a hurt look from Brand) declared it would be treason for Brand to walk the Pattern in any body at all without first getting the King's permission. We left, me trying to ignore the disappointed look in Brand's eyes as he looked after me. Damn. I didn't know how I was going to deal with all this once I ran out of anger. I couldn't stay angry forever. I figured I could either stay busy, or stay drunk. Maybe both. Back to Haven, and Tristan recovered Duncan so he could meet Random. Random brought Vialle through, giving me a legitimate excuse to hug someone and burst into tears (you're allowed to do that kind of thing at reunions). "We should have a party to celebrate your safe return, dear," she offered. "Wonderful!" my attempted enthusiasm came out a trifle brittle. "And Damien's going to wear pastels..." But Damien didn't want to play - just gave me that smile of his. It always seems to promise something, but I'm never sure what. Duncan, it transpired, didn't even know how to play with toys. He just lived in a room and did gym classes and tests. At least I'd had Math and the other demons to play with. I wasn't sorry when I heard that Deirdre had put Brand in the infirmary, though I rather agreed with Tamarind that the various actions taken against him that day would only serve to make him more dangerous. Kicking a rabid dog and taking away its favourite toy tends to have that effect. Actually, that's unfair; I'm rather fond of dogs (except those bloody hellhounds of Uncle Julian's) and they hardly deserve to be compared to him. Meeting Deirdre felt a little awkward, not just because my father had dragged her into the Abyss with him, but because I couldn't quite shake the vision I'd had of her ruling 'the New Kingdoms' at his side. I hoped Tamarind hadn't mentioned that to her. I'd mentioned it to Damien earlier, when Tamarind went off to fetch her. It had always puzzled me why my mother was in the vision, but Tamarind's father wasn't. There was a scary explanation for that, which I hoped wasn't true. Unfortunately, Damien didn't know who Tam's father was either, and the vision went right on nagging. Fortunately, the conversation quickly got back onto important subjects, like the re-opening of Damien's museum, and what kind of party we might have to celebrate it. All in all, it was a rather pleasant, domesticated afternoon. So we should have known it wouldn't last. Random took a Trump call. The six children had been snatched from their nursery. So fast? I thought. But wait a minute - Brand was in the infirmary, wasn't he? We hastened back to Amber, except for Tristan who took time out to spirit Duncan away to another safe hiding place. All the children's Trumps got us nowhere. Broken toys, unconscious and dead guardian creatures, and the bodies of one of the Nurses and one dead ninja lay around the nursery floor. Random ordered Brand's immediate arrest. I supposed they could put bars on his hospital bed or something. Damien went off to check out the passageway through which the children had been abducted, while Tamarind and I did our best to Trump Benedict. He not only answered, but came through straight away. Progress. He still reeked of brandy though. Random was still swearing. Ibrahim discovered the children's fruit juice had been drugged. Altair arrived, spitting curses, and stormed off after Damien. Still no response from any of the children via their Trumps. I told Ibrahim that if he would come up with questions, I'd try a reading. He came up with 'How can we ensure the safe return of the children?' (By not hanging around doing useless things like Trump readings whispered a treacherous voice in my head) and 'Who did this, and why?' I retrieved the amethyst soulstone from Tamarind, and got to work. Brand was brought in on a hospital gurney, denied all knowledge of the situation (well - surprise! What did they expect?) and was wheeled out again. I focussed on the cards, and scattered the stones over the spread. I was dimly aware of Tamarind bringing through Julian, and later Tristan. The first reading helpfully suggested speed might not be a bad idea (thanks a bunch, O Mysterious Forces From Beyond the Veil) but also conveyed a sense that the Pattern was in danger. And something I had never seen before - one card had somehow fallen face down, revealing the Unicorn on its back. Reversed. I mentioned this. Tamarind and Benedict trumped themselves off Pattern Room-wards. No familiar names leapt out of the second spread, and in fact the impression I got was 'not Family'. There was a strong indication, though, that the Blood of Amber was present as a background influence. The 'why' seemed to encompass Tristan (whose card I had designated to stand in for Amber's Pattern) and that damned reversed Unicorn again. At least the Council for Victory cards didn't figure. The amethyst and green soulstones fell most significantly, indicating self-alteration and physical change. I duly filled the King and Ibrahim in on this. Ibrahim interpreted the 'change' indications as implicating a shapeshifter. I went through to Tamarind, and found he wasn't alone. "Glad to see you well; I haven't seen you since you were released," smiled Bleys. Damien had left me in no doubt that this was the most dangerous man I was ever likely to meet, and the blackest-hearted, so I made my best effort not to be charmed by the smile. It was very like his son's - careless, intimate and promising. And just a little dangerous. 'A smile to dazzle and eyes to drown in.'* I decided not to mention this to Damien. He was my friend, and if he didn't like his father then I wouldn't either. One should be loyal about these things. And anyway, when had Bleys ever seen me before? I didn't think we had had the pleasure, and said so. "Oh, my memory may be at fault," he said, easily, and damned if I didn't catch myself thinking 'oh, that's all right then' and smiling back. I won't even swear I wasn't blushing. Have to watch that. [* Esmée's words, by the way, not mine own. She'd gone on to mention that some other feature was 'to die for', but don't expect details here. Girl talk, you understand.] I told them both about the readings, and suggested someone might care to walk to the centre of the Pattern, just in case...? Bleys volunteered, and set off. I waited a few minutes (to be sure I wasn't still blushing) and Trumped through to Damien. He (plus Altair, Tristan, Julian and a baying pack of storm hounds) was deep underground, just beginning to make out a glow ahead of them. It felt magickal. Some kind of alarm. "Recent?" whispered Damien (not sure why, given the noise the damn dogs were making). I nodded. It didn't feel especially well put together, either. To alter its resonances and let us through with out setting it off or destroying it was the work of a few moments. We could hear the sea ahead of us. "Company," muttered Damien, and they all ran forwards. I was still trying to make out more than 'dark tunnel, dim glow', but I followed them gamely into the hail of arrows that greeted us out of the darkness. A few seconds later it dawned on me that I was, in fact, completely unarmed. Again. Something hit me hard in the shoulder - it felt like I'd run into a wall. Then the whole shoulder began to burn, and my left arm stopped working. "Get down!" Altair yelled at me. Probably a good idea, I thought muzzily, retreating against the wall. There was an arrow sticking out of my shoulder. It looked disgusting, and I tugged at it hard without thinking. Mistake. When my head cleared again, I decided to leave the barbed head where it was for the moment, and muttered a quick Moonlight Shadow spell into the bargain. Yet again, my contribution to a fight was proving just a little embarrassing. At least I didn't faint. Time to do something more my own weight - I Trumped Ibrahim, and brought he and Margot to join the fray. And then I hid behind them, and Trumped Tamarind. He comforted me with the comment that the arrow almost certainly wasn't poisoned. The others were making short work of the ninjas ahead (I swear I even saw Damien cutting arrows out of the air). Tamarind sketched the corridor beyond the melee, and took us both through. A miniature griffin and dragon joined us. Tamarind attacked one of the waiting ninjas - I managed to conjure up enough of a Dreamweb spell (a mere flicker and shimmer of dust so close to Amber) to distract his opponent momentarily. Which was long enough. Damien came up and joined us and we ran on down the passageway. The storm hounds ran ahead excitedly, usefully setting off all the traps. We ran up against a barricade (against which tumbling hellhounds were enthusiastically piling up, in spite of the fact it was covered with nasty-looking spikes) and could see ahead a wall off boulders and an opening to the sea. I was sensing something magickal ahead, maybe some kind of device - it was hard to get a proper grip on it. "Oh, shut up," I yelled at the storm hounds in exasperation. How the hell were we supposed to sneak up on anyone, or hear ourselves think, with those enthusiasts on the job? I was a bit taken aback when they actually did quieten a fraction. Julian shut them up completely. Which made it possible for us to hear the sound of young voices ahead, sobbing. Once again, we went through a sketch to get closer. The cavern stretched back into darkness. From the roof, a huge Unicorn sculpture hung, upside down, with six small figures hanging by their ankles beneath it. Tubes led from their necks into some kind of device, from which tubes led into the neck of a man standing below. Power radiated from him, and I could feel the device leeching the children's lifeblood away to feed him. Two of the small forms were still conscious, and struggling weakly. You know when something just arrives in your mind, and you feel as if you'd always known it? Well, I suddenly just knew something. If Brand had done this, I was going to kill him. And killing him was not going to bother me. I began to feel for the device's harmonics, the tones, discordances and balances through which magick speaks to me. We might still be in time, if I could just turn it off. Closing my eyes, I felt for the pulse of the enchantment, its heart, its rhythms...deeper...closer...once the resonances of my own voice were truly interwoven, I took both lower, deeper... slower...gradually, it came under control. Just as Persephone had showed me. Slower. I could feel my own heart slowing in sympathy. I was dimly aware of the sound of combat, of shouting, and then of the tubes taking blood from the children being blocked and cut. They were safe now. I came out of the magick, still feeling slowed myself, and could see that the man had been beaten to the floor. The magick that had poured into him seemed to be trying to hold him together, to contain a realer, stronger force. It seemed to be losing. His body was glowing brighter by the second, and actually smoking now. "Get him away from the children!" yelled Tamarind. Margot threw him seawards, and from there Tristan threw him through a trump link to some place or other. I gather there was an explosion, and the link went dead. Re-establishing it, Damien and Tristan passed the machine through it, and went through themselves. Ibrahim, Margot and I gathered up the children and took them to Haven. They were all still alive, but in severe need of blood. Some of them woke up, and started to cry. 'Daddy Ibrahim' comforted them, while I wondered what on earth to do - small children were unexplored territory for me. With something of a start, I realised that I must now be closer in age to these children than to even the youngest of my cousins. Well, I couldn't give blood (who knew if the poor kids might turn transparent as a result) but I could sing them all to sleep. And make tea and biscuits for Margot and Esmée after they gave blood. Afterwards, Margot dealt with my shoulder. We never had much to say to one another, but this was a more companionable silence than we had ever achieved before. I would have liked to ask if she were all right, tell her how sorry I was about the awful things that had happened to her. Tell her she was still one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, and the strongest. Ask if she wanted to talk. But she had always despised me, from the safe heights of her icy perfection, and to have me of all people feel sorry for her on top of everything else (sympathy from the family freak!) would have been unbearable, an added insult. So I settled for the silence. Still feeling a bit woozy from the after-effects of too much strange magick and having an arrow dug out of my shoulder, I sat down to watch the children while they slept. So small, so still, and so precious. I found myself feeling oddly protective. I'd never wanted the responsibility of my own child (couldn't have risked it even if I had) but somehow I envied the others the small family they had to raise, and knew there wasn't much I wouldn't do to keep these children safe from further harm. Clearly I was becoming disgustingly sentimental. Maybe I should get a kitten. Tamarind and Damien joined us. What they had discovered about the device seemed to point to someone other than the man-in-the-machine (whose name seemed to be Abraxis) having performed the enchantments. For them to work where they had, a Family member was strongly indicated. The suspect list seemed to be Llewella, Brand, Bleys and Fiona. Oh good. Shouldn't be too hard going then. Damien gave blood. I was feeling a bit left out, but knew it was only sensible for me not to. Some of the children stirred, dreaming, and I hurried to keep bad dreams at bay. Tristan arrived. We had a drink. After a while it occurred to Tamarind to check up on Bleys. He was still in the centre of the Pattern. "Tell him to stay there," muttered Damien. We slept, we watched, we talked. We drank some more. Random handed through the remaining four guardian creatures, who promptly curled up with their respective children. I fetched two of Thing's purple-and-silver brethren as temporary bedmates for the two children who had lost their creatures to cuddle. They all curled up together. So cute... Tamarind informed us that Nurse Simmons had been blackmailed into drugging the children by unnamed villains, who had kidnapped her fiancé to ensure her co-operation. Or so she said. What kind of woman would put six innocent children at risk, even under that kind of duress? Six Princes and Princesses of Amber, at that? Would even one of our Family use their own younger relatives in something so disgusting and cruel? Whoever had done it deserved to die. I fell asleep, vaguely wishing I had a cuddly koala-beast of my own to keep me company And hoping, as I did every night, that I would still be in the Real world when I woke up. |
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'Brand's Bad Day'
Go to the Altair, Damien, Ibrahim, Owen, Phoenix, Tamarind or Tristan pages.