I dropped my hand to the hilt of my own sword and gave a warning growl. “We are all friends here. We are bound by a treaty.”
“Traitor!” another called. More swords left their sheaths. A shiver ran through me.
“You're wrong!” I said desperately. My brother might be a lot of things, but I couldn't believe he would kill King Uthor and me.
Aber stepped forward. “Let me speak!” he shouted. “Please, let me speak!”
The muttering around us died. I took a deep breath. This situation could still be saved. I just hoped Aber could convince Uthor's men of our innocense.
Already my thoughts turned through the possibilities. If they could be rallied under my flag… if I could lead them all against Lord Zon…
“I didn't know the ring would kill him,” Aber said in a loud voice. “I'm just a messenger!”
“You have a message?” I asked, puzzled.
“That's right.” He swallowed hard then looked me in the eye. “Lord Zon sends his greetings. Ta, brother.”
With an apologetic shrug, he stepped back and disappeared in a sudden flash of light.
Chapter 28
I could only stand there, mouth open, stunned at what he'd just said and done. He had betrayed us. Betrayed me. I couldn't believe it—and yet everything started to fall into place.
How long had he been working for Lord Zon?
A long time, a little voice inside me said.
He must have been the one who let the assassin into my room in Juniper. And he must have been the one who betrayed the location of the first Pattern to King Uthor… All along, he had been working with both sets of our enemies.
A low upswell of voices began around me.
“Quiet!” I shouted. “We must—”
The muttering grew louder. Steel glinted and flashed as Uthor's men drew their weapons. I realized with a certainty I'd never felt before that they intended to have my head—along with my brother's. Only he'd had the sense to flee.
Trumpets sounded… not low, mournful notes as befitted a king's passing, but the sharp tat-tat, tat-tat of an alarm. Men began to shout and run for weapons. Uthor's men paused, looking around with mounting concern.
“Attack! Attack!” came the cries of sentries. “To arms!”
Someone screamed, “Watch for arrows!” as missiles started to rain down in our midst.
I seized the nearest shield from beside King Uthor's throne and raised it against the attack. A heartbeat later, two arrows pierced its thick hide with sounds like the savage thump-thump of a war-drum, their cruelly barbed tips coming to a halt less than an finger's width from my nose and right eye. Two of Uthor's lieutenants weren't so lucky—one caught an arrow in the eye, the other to his neck and chest. Both died instantly.
A distant voice shouted, “It's Swayvil! He's attacking! Swayvil is!” and a brief scream followed.
Forgetting me for the moment, Uthor's lieutenants ran to mount their defenses. They called orders, trying to rally their camp's defense. More arrows fell.
I glanced at Haetor and Aslom, who watched the skies warily and stayed as close to me as possible. They had their swords drawn and looked ready to defend themselves.
We had to get out of here fast. No matter who won the coming battle, I knew my men and I would not be welcome here.
“Find shields and follow me,” I said to them in a quiet voice.
As I jogged I pulled out my Trumps and found Conner's. I tried to contact him, but couldn't—either the magic had been blocked or, more likely, he was too busy fighting for his life to chat right now.
Turning, I headed north. I'd try to make it to our camp before Uthor's men organized and came after us.
The initial volleys of shots ended, and I heard the sound of war-cries and steel ringing on steel from somewhere behind us. The battle had started.
I cast my shield aside. Fortunately, everyone around us seemed to be rushing toward the fighting. Word of King Uthor's death had not yet spread through camp, and no one seemed the least bit interested in stopping us or asking questions.
I glanced over my shoulder. Haetor and Aslom were having no trouble keeping up. We headed as rapidly as possible down the rows of tents. Horned men, men with tails, and things that could never have been men ran and scurried and flapped and flew this way and that, shouting questions and conflicting orders, trying to marshal troops and mount a defense. No one seemed to be in charge.
“Where to, Oberon?” Aslom asked, pacing beside me.
“To rejoin our army,” I said grimly. “Hopefully they will still be there.”
A second volley of arrows rained from the sky, and several of Uthor's officers fell. I recognized Nox among the wounded. I hesitated a moment. He might prove useful later. I'd need a liaison to Uthor's troops, if any of them lived through the coming battle… perhaps some could be persuaded to join our forces.
“Get Nox!” I said suddenly.
Haetor looked started. “Oberon—”
“I have plans for him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shaking his head, keeping his shield up with his left arm, he and Aslom ran over to Nox, grabbed his arms, and lifted him. Between them, they supported him enough to get him moving again.
Picking up another shield, I led the way through the camp. Men and hell-creatures ran pell-mell through the mazes of tents. More arrows fell. My shield caught another, and one more grazed by thigh. Uthor's troops continued to run around in a panic, throwing on armor and grabbing weapons. Uthor's sentries had failed… we had all been caught by surprise. Damn Aber!
I made it through the rear line of tents and scrambled up the side of the valley. Uthor's men had made plenty of trails, so the going was easy. At the top, I saw an open stretch of land, and then the place where my own men had been sent to make camp. The forces from Ceyoldar had formed battle lines with shields raised, but were holding ranks. Conner, with the cavalry, ranged behind them shouting orders. I saw a few arrows lodged in shields, but apparently they had not yet come under direct attack.
“Run across as fast as you can,” I said to them. “Keep low. Get Nox to a company doctor, and post guards over him. Then report back to me.”
“Are we joining the battle?” Aslom asked.
“Not yet.”
He nodded, then motioning to his son, together they lifted Nox and bore him off toward the lines.
I took a deep breath and raced past them, legs pounding, moving as fast as I could.
“Open ranks!” sentries shouted.
A few arrows whizzed past me, but none hit. Several footmen with shields moved back, and I made it into their protective ranks. Aslom and Haetor followed a moment later.
Conner came racing up. “What happened?” he demanded, swinging down from his horse.
“It was Aber—he showed up and murdered King Uthor,” I said grimly.
“What!” He stared at me. “Impossible!”
I shook my head. “No. It was him. He did it. He's working for Lord Zon.”
“Take my horse,” he said. “I'll get another.”
Quickly I swung up into the saddle and took the reins.
“What orders?” he asked. “Do we stay? Do we fight?”
“No,” I said. “Uthor's forces are finished. They won't follow me now—Aber has seen to that.”
“So it's back to Amber,” he said.
“Yes.”
Turning, he shouted, “Sound ranks!” to the bugler.
Instantly the ta-ta-tat sounded out. Men scrambled to form lines, shields up, arms at the ready.
“Withdraw!” I shouted. “Prepare to march!”
Before I could say another word, sentries shouted, “Arrows!”
“Watch out!” I bellowed.
I threw my shield over my head as a rain of black missiles fell among us. A few men fell with sharp cries of agony, but most had shields up in time. The barrage did little damage.
“Pikemen to the fore!” I shouted, wheeling my horse. “Cavalr
y—prepare to ride ahead!”
Haetor came running. “Lord Nox is dead, sir!” he announced.
“Damn the luck. We'll probably be blamed for that, too.” Nothing could be done about it now, though. I hesitated a second, trying to figure the best course of action. “Take a squad of cavalry and find out where the arrows are coming from. We have to leave now or we'll be picked off one by one.”
“Yes, sir!” Saluting, he ran, calling for half a dozen men to join him. Hopefully it wouldn't be a suicide mission.
“Marching lines!” I shouted again. The pikemen and spearmen began to assemble, shields still raised over their heads. “Leave the tents and anything not easily carried! Abandon camp!”
I glanced around for Conner, but he was three hundred yards away. Instead of shouting, I pulled out his Trump. This time he answered immediately.
“How about those special troops you promised me back in Amber? We aren't going to make it out of here without help.”
He smiled a wicked smile. “I know just the one.”
“One what? Battalion?”
“No. One who agreed. He should be all you need.”
I blinked in surprise. “Is this a joke?”
“Dragons don't normally cooperate with people. We're more of a snack to them. It took a lot of persuading. And a lot of gold.”
“Did you say… a dragon?”
“Uh-huh.”
I smiled grimly. This might well turn the tide of battle in our favor.
“Where is it now?”
“I made a Trump. I can call him any time. You want him right now?”
“Yes—but do it over here!”
“Right!”
I broke the connection and looked to my men. “Clear a large area!” I shouted. “We have a change of plans—reinforcements are coming!”
Everyone cheered. They drew back a fifty feet in all directions, which I judged a safe enough distance.
Conner reached me then, riding hard, and drew up sharply. He had a Trump in one hand.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes!”
“Here it is!”
He handed me the Trump. It showed a face… huge, scaled, with eyes like black coals.
I raised it, concentrating. A presence seemed to overwhelm me… something huge… something old and dark and powerful. Something very smart and very powerful.
“Human.” The voice was so low I barely heard it.
“I am King Oberon,” I said. “My brother Conner said you would help us.”
“For a price…”
“Yes. Join us.”
I reached out my hand. A claw touched it, cold as ice and harder than steel. I pulled. It felt like ten thousand pounds on the other end, but slowly it came through the connection. A clawed hand, covered with black scales, an arm—immense, powerful—then chest—neck—head and tail—
With a hop and a leap, it suddenly appeared. It towered over me, forty feet at the shoulder, perhaps a hundred and twenty from tip of snout to tip of tail. As it moved, the ground trembled. Slowly it spread its wings, and then it roared.
Arrows struck its back and sides, but they bounced off. It was well armored.
“This is Ulyss,” Conner said proudly.
“Yes,” said the dragon. “Manling promises gold.”
“As much as you want,” I said, “for your help today.”
“My weight in gold…”
“Agreed.”
“What must I do?”
More arrows pinged down. A man behind me collapsed with a choking gurgle, the long black shaft of an arrow jutting from his throat.
“We are in the middle of a war,” I said. “Can you stop the archers who are shooting at us?”
“Yes…”
It reared back, took three hopping steps, and began beating the air with its wings. In a second it was airborne. Rapidly it gained altitude and speed, and then it circled. More arrows struck it, doing no damage.
Suddenly it dived. Turning, I tried to see its target. There—it was after something in the bushes to the right. When its mouth opened, gouts of flame shot out. I couldn't see what it had burned, but I could guess. The rain of arrows abruptly ceased. Rising again, it circled, looking for more targets.
“What do you think of him?” Conner asked, grinning.
“Three more dragons like him, and the day would already be ours.”
“We don't have that long. As soon as Swayvil sees what's happening, he'll destroy this world.”
“Primal Chaos—” I guessed.
“Yes. He'll release it here, and nothing will remain. We must leave at once.”
“What about the dragon?”
“What about him?”
“You promised him gold.”
Conner shrugged. “He won't survive long. If he gets all the archers, I'll be surprised.”
“Their arrows are useless.”
“It just takes one lucky shot. And if the archers don't get him, Lord Zon will.”
I chuckled. “You have a high opinion of Zon.”
“Any Lord of Chaos can kill a dragon.”
“Even you?” I asked. It seemed impossible.
“Yes.” He shrugged modestly. “Ulyss was the fifth dragon I approached. I killed two who decided I'd make a better breakfast than employer.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Look!”
I followed his pointing finger. Ulyss had paused in mid attack. In the air before him hung a shadow. It had no fixed shape, and its center was as dark as a raincloud. It pulsed ever so faintly.
“Pull back!” I shouted to Ulyss, but the dragon could not hear me.
Instead, it breathed gouts of fire at the shadow. That did no damage that I could see. If anything, the shadow grew larger. Then, like a panther springing onto its prey, the shadow surged forward. It completely enveloped the dragon. I saw Ulyss's wings paused in mid downstroke, but the dragon did not fall.
Instead, the dragon began to scream. The terrible soul-rending noise cut through the air like a knife. It went on and on, growing louder, tearing through my head, tearing through my heart. I covered my ears, and still it went through me. I had never heard such a horrible sound before. It made me want to curl into a ball and die.
The scream came to an abrupt stop. As I watched with growing horror, the dragon seemed to crumble to dust. In a second it simply disappeared, its few remains swept away by the wind.
The Shadow drifted through the air for a second, as though no hand guided it. Then, slowly and inexorably, it drifted toward Conner and me.
Chapter 29
“What is that thing?” I asked uneasily, starting to back away.
“Primal Chaos, under a master adept's control.” Connor also backed up. “This would be a good time to leave, I think. Use a Trump. Call Freda. She can bring us back to Amber.”
“I'm not leaving without my troops.” I had gone through too much to get them; I wouldn't just abandon King Aslom and his men to be slaughtered—not as long as other options remained. “What else can we do?”
“Kill the one casting the spell.”
“I can't see him. And I don't think we have time to go hunting.”
He hesitated. “Dad or Freda might be able to counter it. Try Freda. Just do it fast!”
Keeping one eye on the shadow—which had definitely gotten larger since destroying the dragon—I pulled out Freda's Trump and concentrated on her image.
She answered immediately.
“Is something wrong?”
“We're having trouble with Primal Chaos. Conner says a master adept is controlling it. It just killed our dragon, and now it's heading for us.”
“What does it look like?”
“A cloud. It's in the sky.”
“Move it to another Shadow,” she said.
I blinked. “Can we do that?”
“Of course. Tell Connor to use a—oh, give me a second. I had better do it.” She turned and spoke to someone over her shoulder, then reached toward me. I took her hand and
pulled her through.
She took one look at the Shadow and said, “Hmm!” Then she turned and strolled away at an almost leisurely pace, her head bowed. I noted a Trump in her left hand, but I could not yet tell what it showed.
The Shadow became a seething, writhing cloud. It glided toward the three of us, faster now, three hundred yards away and closing rapidly.
My uneasiness grew. Someone had to be controlling it… but who? And from where? He had to be watching us to send it right at us.
I glanced around camp. My men had stopped in the midst of their packing to stare up at it, awe and horror mingling on their faces. They too recognized it as something evil.
“Bring me a bow!” I called.
“Here, Oberon!” One of the archers leaped forward, offering his.
“Thanks.”
Notching an arrow, I drew back as far as I could, turned quickly, and fired into the cloud. Once—twice—a third time. The arrows entered it one after another, disappearing from sight; they did not come out the other side. Like the dragon's fire, they had no effect.
I swallowed. Then I backed up a few more feet, getting behind Freda. I didn't want to be in the path when she let loose whatever magic she'd been working.
What could I do to help? I hated waiting. It made me feel powerless.
I scanned the bushes and trees surrounding our camp. Maybe I could spot the sorcerer manipulating the cloud. I figured he had to be watching us to direct it so precisely.
As I turned toward the mountain behind us, sunlight glinted off something—a silver buckle or maybe a button—among the scraggly pines. From that vantage point, whoever it was had a perfect view of us.
I caught Conner's arm. “The wizard is hiding in the woods behind us. Watch for a reflection. There! See it?”
“Yes!” he said. He drew his sword.
“Wait.” I marked the spot mentally, then turned back toward the cloud. A hundred yards away, it drifted steadily toward us.
Calmly I nocked another arrow and took aim. Then, instead of firing into the shadow, I wheeled and shot at the figure hidden in the trees. He was two hundred yards distant, but I knew my own strength, and I could hit a target that far away.
I followed that first with five more in rapid succession, covering a spread perhaps four feet across.
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