A portrait of Aber hung at the very end, where it could not be seen from my seat at the head of the table. I frowned up at it. No, this would not do at all.
I called one of the stewards over. “This one… I don't want to see it.”
“I will have it taken down, Sire,” he said.
“No. Drape it in black.”
“Are we to be in mourning for Lord Aber?” the steward asked, looking puzzled. “Isn't he still alive?”
“Yes… and yes.”
That night, after dinner, Freda turned to me and said, “I need to speak with you.”
“Oh?” I raised my eyebrows and took another sip of wine. Mentally, I sighed. She must have noticed the black crepe over Aber's tapestry; at least she had waited till the end of the meal to bring it up.
“At your convenience, of course.”
“Is it about Aber?”
“Yes.”
I took another sip of wine, studying her over the rim of my goblet. Somehow, I had known this was coming. I had a sudden premonition that he had contacted her again… asked her to intercede with me. She still loved him, I knew. She would certainly prove the weakest link in getting back into my good graces.
Not that I would ever let it happen.
I sighed. “Go on.” I could at least hear her out. I owed her that much.
She said, “He wants me to talk to you about Swayvil's offer. I told him I would.”
I snorted. “It's a most generous offer, I'm sure. But I'm no one's puppet.”
“You should refuse,” she went on. “You must never go back to Chaos. And you must never trust Swayvil, Suhuy, or Aber again.”
I sat up. “What! I thought you would be in favor of it. A return to Chaos… freedom for Pella…”
“I know.” She shook her head unhappily. “I think the offer was meant as a distraction for us. For you.”
“How so?” I wouldn't have accepted Swayvil's offer anyway, but I wanted to know her reasoning.
“Swayvil has a history of deception and misdirection. Aber may be my brother, and I love him, but I do recognize his flaws. He is too clever for his own good. Now he has fallen under Swayvil's influence, and none of us must trust him. The words he speaks and the plots he weaves are not his own. They are Swayvil's—and he cannot see the whole of them.”
“You can?”
She hesitated. “I… suspect things.”
Nodding, I said, “I do, too. You said the offer was a distraction.”
“Yes. What better way to put us off our guard? What better way to lure you back to Chaos?”
“Possibly.” I nodded slowly. “But why? He would not be able to kill me once I got there, if he publicly promised that pardon.”
“He can make the terms unpalatable to you.”
“Then I would refuse…”
“And?”
Frowning, I finished my thought: “… which is what he wants. If I refuse to swear allegiance to him, he will be free to move against Amber!”
“In the meantime, you will have been in Chaos. Distracted. Cut off from our troops. Everyone here will be unprepared. Perhaps the attack will occur while you are in Chaos… and there will be no Amber for you to return to.”
I swallowed. “Devious…”
She smiled thinly. “You begin to see the nature of politics in Chaos. King Uthor did not play the game well enough. We must.”
“If Swayvil is ready to move against us…”
“He is,” she said firmly.
“… then we must move against him first. We will fight as we would have fought against Uthor. Nothing has changed.”
I rose and paced. We would have to prepare ourselves, and quickly. My army numbered, what three hundred thousand? And we had been making allies among the neighboring Shadows. If we ran into trouble, we might be able to field as many as a half-million men.
And, of course, Conner had been approaching more of his “special forces,” as he liked to call dragons, ogres, trolls, and other non-human denizens of Shadow… they, too, would join us. We would meet whatever price they demanded.
We would need to dispatch scouts into Shadow… begin looking for Swayvil's forces as they marched on Amber…
“Please,” Freda said. “Bring Aber back? Before Swayvil tires of him and has him killed—for me?”
I swallowed hard. It pained me, but I had to be firm in my resolve.
“I cannot,” I said softly. “Do not ask me to.” I could never forgive him for what he had done.
“Is that your final decision?”
“Yes.” I could not look her in the eye.
She bowed her head. “As you will… Sire.”
That night, I summoned Conner and my father to a council of war. They listened raptly as I told them of Aber's tantalizing offer… and my refusal. Then I repeated Freda's and my suspicions about Swayvil being ready to move against us.
“Was I wrong to refuse to bring Aber back?” I asked them.
“No!” Conner said.
Dad said, “He would only betray you again. Do not be a fool, my boy.”
I nodded slowly. Having to make the hard decisions of a king sometimes hurt. I would have to steel myself to them. I would have to think not just of my own selfish pleasures—or Freda's for that matter—but make decisions for the good of all in Amber.
So be it. My decision had been made. It would stand.
To Conner, I said, “Have Aslom and the other generals start bringing in everyone from the field,” I said. “We must begin our preparations for war. I want to see the latest troop reports.”
“We can have all our forces in the staging area within the week.”
“Dad? You must bring the scouts into Shadows. Find Swayvil's army.”
“Easier said than done.”
I grinned. “I have faith in you. Just don't let them catch you.” Then I turned to my brother. “You know what to do.”
“Special troops,” he said.
“Right.”
He grinned. “This is the part I have been waiting for!”
“It's not going to be pleasant,” I said grimly. “A lot of people are going to die. Possibly even us.”
“I know. But we're going to win, Oberon. I feel it.”
“I do, too,” I said. A strange calmness came over me. At a time like this, I would have expected to be at least a little nervous. But I wasn't. Everything was coming out better than I'd hoped.
We would field an army unmatched in the history of war. Half a million soldiers marching against Chaos, all under my banner… Swayvil could not prevail.
Chapter 33
Freda always managed to surprise me. I expected news of King Swayvil's pending attack to come from Dad and the scouts he was scattering through Shadows. But it was my sister who came to me in the library and said simply:
“Swayvil's forces are marching now.”
“What! How do you know?”
“Great Aunt Eddarg.” She smiled. “We discuss dinner at the palace nearly every day. Apparently the king neglected to tell her that half the court wouldn't be at dinner last night because they had left on a military mission.”
“And you inferred from this that his men are marching on Amber.” I gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Brilliant!”
She smiled. “Tell Father and Conner.”
“What about Swayvil? Is he joining them?”
“No. By tradition, he will remain in the Courts of Chaos while his generals battle. And… Aber has also left the palace.”
“Why?” It didn't sound like him to pass up life in the palace for a military expedition.
“Great Aunt Eddarg did not know. Our brother is not a fighter; he would not take part in the actual battle. But I do fear another trick… something to remove you from the battlefield …”
“I will watch for him.”
Between the scouts and our father's knowledge of Shadows and the Pattern, they managed to spot the army of Chaos marching through Shadows. Our outriders paced them, ke
eping hidden, using Trumps to come and go quickly without being seen. I did not think Swayvil's men even knew they were being observed. Dad and I made sure none of the mistakes he and Locke had made in Juniper would be repeated here. We had all learned our lesson well.
Half a dozen times, I watched from cover on nearby mountainsides as the forces of Chaos marched past, heading down a black road conjured by the sorcerers of Chaos. Dad and Conner—and once even Freda—joined me.
Freda brought a large picnic lunch prepared by Great Aunt Eddarg. The irony of it was not lost on any of us. Although I tried not to look too closely at the food, and I did not ask what might be in the sandwiches, I ate six of them. They were quite tasty if you ignored the crunching and occasional squeals.
Below us, columns of soldiers—so small I could not tell whether they were hell-creatures, men, or something else entirely—marched down that black road in columns twenty abreast.
“Is that Aber?” I asked suddenly leaning forward and squinting.
“Where?” Freda asked. She raised herself up to see.
“Directly across from us now.” I pointed to an open carriage drawn by a team of eight slow-moving lizards. Someone sat in the back, high on a pile of golden pillows. Such decadence on the way to war—who else could it be but our brother?
“No…” Dad said, peering through a spyglass. “I believe that is General Droth. He must be in charge of this campaign.”
“A general? Waging war perched on pillows?” I asked incredulously.
Dad handed my his spyglass. I put it to one eye. On closer examination, it definitely wasn't my brother, but an older, more portly man with horns and a long red tail.
“Why not be comfortable?” Conner said with a small grin. “Maybe I should get us all pillows for the coming battle.”
“I could use one now,” Freda said. “I am not accustomed to sitting on the ground while I eat.”
“Is it worth our time to kill General Droth?” I asked. I tried to estimate the distance between us. A thousand yards… an impossible bowshot. But perhaps, using the Pattern…
“Patience, my boy…” Dad chuckled. “Our army is not so far away now.”
“Besides, it would tip them off that we know they're coming,” Conner said. “We do have plans, remember.”
“We should get back and prepare for our ambush,” I said, rising.
“Go on,” Freda said. “I will clean up and return to Amber. Good luck to you all.”
“Thanks,” I said. “We will celebrate our victory tonight.”
Dad pulled out a Trump he had drawn the week before. It showed a valley in the next Shadow, lush and green and surrounded by hills now filled with archers. Any of Swayvil's army who made it through the valley alive would find cavalry and foot soldiers waiting, along with more of Conner's “special forces.”
If all went as planned, it would be a devastating rout for General Droth and his men.
An hour later, I rode the cavalry line, reviewing the troops. General Aslom and his sons, with their golden war-chariots, would lead the Ceyoldar brigade. They looked splendid in their brightly polished armor. Next came the Mong, somber men, small and wiry, who fought on sturdy little ponies with all the fury of berserkers. They wore hardened leather armor and face-concealing helms. After them came forces from other nearby Shadows Dad and Conner had found: Tir-Na-Gath, Mulvia, Jarvoon, Zelloque, and so many more.
As I rode past, they stood up in their stirrups, swords and lances held high, cheering.
“Keep the banners up!” I cried. “We will sweep them away before us!”
My stallion danced and fought for his head, but I wouldn't let him go. He wanted the coming battle almost as much as I did.
I felt the beginnings of Trump contact and answered. It was Conner.
“The first of them are entering the valley,” he said softly. “Prepare yourself, brother. Keep your eyes on the black highway!”
The spikard-ring on my finger pulsed briefly—not so much a warning, I thought, as an acknowledgment.
I raised my hands for silence, and the tens of thousands of men before me grew still. A low wind whistled. Here and there a horse snorted or neighed, or the wheels of a war-chariot creaked as its occupant shifted his weight.
Suddenly, just visible over the top of the hill before us, flashed volley after volley of my army's arrows. A cloud of dust rose. Faintly, far in the distance, came a rumble of noise… the mingled stampeding of hundreds of thousands of soldiers who fought to escape the death-trap in which they found themselves… the shrieks of the dying and wounded… the battle-cries of those who drew their weapons and sought to fight.
“Wait… wait…” I murmured.
I turned my horse to face the hills. We would hold our position until the archers had done their worst, or Swayvil's men topped the rise—whichever came first.
One, then another, then another hell-creature in black armor appeared on the road before us. They drew up short when they saw the lines of horsemen and chariots waiting scarcely a hundred yards away. But more and more creatures of Chaos swarmed behind them, fleeing the valley, pushing them forward.
“Now!” I screamed, spurring my horse and giving him his head.
Like a demon, he raced for the hell-creatures, his hooves drumming. Around and behind me, I heard the thunder of an all-out cavalry charge.
Screaming in fear, the hell-creatures tried to turn and flee back down their black highway. But it was too late. There could be no flight to safely now. None would escape my wrath.
A bloodlust came over me, terrible and strong. The ring on my finger burned. A roar of blood filled my ears. I rode into the hell-creatures' midst, swinging my sword like a scythe. Heads rolled. Bodies fell. My horse reared and struck with its hooves, crushing skulls, then leaping forward to bite and rend with its teeth.
Together we cut a swath through the onrushing soldiers of Chaos. Those who sought to run were trampled or struck from behind. Those who stood and fought were slashed, stabbed, disemboweled, or beheaded—sometimes all at once.
And still we fought. My horse went down, and I leaped from his back with a savage war-cry, tackling a group of hell-creatures. Their glowing red eyes showed nothing but terror at the blood-drenched monster I must have been. As they scrambled to get away, I laughed and roared and swung my sword like a whip through the air, and so many pieces of them fell to the red-stained grass.
Finally, panting, I drew to a halt, covered in sweat and gore. Around me the battle had begun to wind down. None of the hell-creatures still stood anywhere within fifty feet of me. Men, my men, moved among the bodies, stabbing them with swords, making sure they were truly dead. We did not want any survivors or surprises.
Then my ring pulsed once, quick and sharp—a warning? I whirled, scanning the bodies around me, looking for anything unusual or out of place.
Then I spotted a figure standing in the cover of a copse of trees on the next hill. I couldn't see his face, but he seemed to be staring directly at me. A shiver of alarm went through me. Swayvil?
And then the figure raised one arm… and waved. Aber.
I took a deep breath, glanced around at the mopping-up efforts of my men, and decided they didn't need me for the moment. I had personal business to take care of.
Then I waved back. Might as well put him off his guard, I decided. Let him think I had forgotten or forgiven…
I stripped the cloak from a dead hell-creature's back, wiped my face and sword clean, then calmly marched toward my brother's position. I kept my expression carefully neutral… showing neither hate nor anger nor the desire for revenge that burned within me.
As I grew near, he seemed to sense something of my intentions, for he suddenly turned and ran off into the trees. I followed, rushing through the tall oaks, catching a glimpse of him now and then.
“Don't run!” I shouted. “Aber! Make it easy for yourself!”
“Then promise you won't hurt me!” he shouted back.
“Do yo
u take me for a fool?” I demanded.
“Yes,” he said with a light laugh. “But don't be offended. I'm smarter than everyone in the family. Even Dad, though he doesn't realize it.”
“Wait for me!”
We reached a small clearing, and I found him standing there with his arms crossed, a little smile on his lips.
I drew up. “I'm sick of games!” I told him. I raised my sword. I would make his death as quick and as painless as I could, for Freda's sake. “Why did you come here? What did you possibly think would happen?”
He sighed and shook his head. “Look behind you.”
“If I do, you'll disappear again.”
“If you don't, you'll be dead.” He shrugged. “It's my last warning for my favorite brother.”
Suddenly I had a very bad feeling inside. I glanced over my shoulder.
And just as suddenly I wished I hadn't.
Chapter 34
I saw myself standing there. Or, rather, I saw my double. Face, hair, shape of chest, length of legs—I might have been looking in a mirror. And he even held a sword exactly like mine.
This had to be the man who kidnapped Fenn from Amber. We had all assumed Suhuy sent him. Apparently it had been King Swayvil… or Aber.
“Who are you?” I demanded of him.
“I am Oberon,” he said.
I snorted. “I don't think so.”
“I am and will be the rightful King of Amber,” he growled. “You stole my place. I will take it back.”
“You may have my face, but you aren't me?”
He raised his sword. “I am. I will be.”
“Incredible,” Aber said. He looked from the double to me and back again wonderingly. “You really are identical. I didn't quite believe it.”
“The difference,” I said grimly, “is that I'm real. And after I've killed your creature—whatever it is—I'm going to kill you.”
“I think not,” he said.
“I'm real enough,” said the fake Oberon. “Look at me! I am you in every way…”
And, as I would have, he leaped without warning, hammering at me with a series of bone-jarring blows. I parried his first attacks, sending our swords ringing, then threw him back and riposted. Again our blades sang and danced, steel on steel, blurring with the speed of our every move. We each strained to throw the other one back. His muscles knotted like mine. His neck corded; his face grew red and veins bulged at his temples.
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