New Amber Trilogy 2 - Chaos and Amber

by John Gregory Betancourt

  "I remember," I replied in a low voice. "And if I won with it, everyone will say it was the blade and not me. Forget magic. When I kill him, everyone will know it was the strength of my arm and the keenness of my eye."

  Everyone moved back a few feet, forming a ring around us. Ulyanash untied his cloak, threw it to one of his friends, then unlaced his collar and pulled his shirt off. His chest was narrow and bony, covered with a fine silken white hair.

  I too stripped to the waist and stretched the kinks from my muscles. There would be no chance of our blades catching in clothing.

  On the surface, judging by our appearances, it looked like an uneven match—with me the likely winner.

  Aber, using the Logrus, produced a mahogany box with a glass lid. It contained a set of matched dueling knives. He opened the lid and gave first choice to my opponent. Ulyanash picked up both blades, hefting them, examining them, before finally selecting one. He put the other one back. Aber turned to me, and I accepted it.

  About seven inches long, its blade had been etched with intricate designs of dragons. Its handle, wrapped in strips of black leather, fit my hand perfectly. I noticed that Ulyanash had to adjust his own grip several times trying to get comfortable with it.

  Aber grinned, watching Ulyanash fumble with his weapon, and I realized he had chosen these knives specifically for our duel. They fit my larger hands, not my opponent's.

  "Begin!" Aber said, snapping the box shut and stepping back into the circle of watchers.

  We squared off against each other, and then Ulyanash's face and body rippled and began to change, muscles and bristled spikes popping out all over his skin. He seemed to grow several feet taller and several hundred pounds heavier, until the knife looked like a toy in his hand. He could have crushed me just by falling on me.

  I gulped. I hadn't planned on magical tricks. Somehow, this fight no longer seemed like such a good idea.

  I glanced at my brother desperately, hoping shape-shifting might be illegal, but he made no objections. Like everyone else in the crowd, his eyes were fixed on Ulyanash. Everyone seemed to be watching him, waiting for him to make his move against me. They thought he would win handily.

  Not without a struggle, though. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and made a tentative slash at his right shoulder, feeling him out.

  He ducked and thrust, and our blades locking together for an instant. Then, with a surge of powerful muscles, he threw me back. I skidded ten feet and almost fell. Breathing lightly, I regained my balance and moved forward once more.

  He had me on strength, that much was clear. What about speed, though?

  I circled, parrying a couple of his jabs, then tried darting forward. A dive and a quick roll took me under his guard. He looked startled as I came up under his left side. As he whirled—too late!—I rolled again, left, keeping low and fast.

  He tried to stomp on my arm, missed, and teetered for a second, off-balance. I saw my chance.

  With a lightning thrust, I stabbed upwards and nicked his forearm—unfortunately, not the one that held the knife. A narrow ribbon of blood spun out and upward, toward the ceiling. It spattered watchers on the floating stones above.

  I rolled again and came up on the balls of my feet, poised to strike.

  "First blood!" Aber called, stepping forward. "Are you satisfied, Oberon?"

  I gave a quick nod. "Yes." The sooner this duel ended, the better as far as I was concerned.

  "What about you, Ulyanash?"

  "No," he snarled.

  A startled murmur went up from the crowd. Clearly they had expected him to yield. Unfortunately, this was personal for him—not only had he made himself my enemy, I had humiliated him by drawing first blood. Pride wouldn't let him end the battle here.

  "Then—continue!" Aber backed away.

  Once more Ulyanash and I circled. He moved more slowly and cautiously this time. My taking first blood had done a little good—it had unnerved him. I would have to use that to my advantage.

  I tried to close, and this time he danced back, slashing hard. He just missed my face; I felt the wind of his blade scarcely a finger's width from my cheek.

  Careful, careful. Pressing forward, I worked to the left, making him turn. That seemed to be his weaker side; I noticed a slight hesitation every time I thrust toward his left cheek. Maybe he had a little trouble seeing with his left eye?

  Suddenly he pressed a savage attack. He slashed again and again, knife a blur, putting me on the defensive. I parried and evaded as best I could, dodging and retreating in a circle. Our blades whistled. He grunted, and I noticed sweat starting to bead on his chest. Surely he couldn't keep up that frantic pace long—he would exhaust himself.

  I waited patiently, backing in a wide circle, letting him press the attack, doing my best to stay clear.

  Deliberately letting my foot slip a bit, I leaned to the left. He thought he saw an opening and lunged with a lightning blow. It came faster and lower than I expected, and I had to spin to the side, barely avoid having my belly punctured.

  As I'd hoped, he had overextended his reach. I grabbed his right wrist in my left hand and squeezed as hard as I could.

  I had crushed men's bones in combat before. Any normal human would have cried out and dropped the knife, hopelessly cripped. But Ulyanash's bones felt like iron. Instead of dropping the knife, he half turned, jerked his arm up—and sent me flying twenty feet high into the air.

  The fall probably would have ended the fight—not from any injury I might have sustained, but because he would have been waiting for me on the floor below. A quick knife thrust, and I would have been dead.

  Luckily one of the floating stones saved me. I came within a foot of it, grabbed it with my left hand, swung there a second, then pulled myself on board. The dozen men and women standing there pressed back, giving me room.

  I turned, knife ready. But Ulyanash didn't follow me.

  "Coward!" Ulyanash cried, pointing at me with his knife. "Look how he runs from the fight!"

  "You threw him up there," Aber said. "Give him a chance to get back down."

  "Or," I said, "you can come up."

  People began stepping off the stone on which I stood. Panting, I waited and thought about the fight so far. Clearly I needed a new strategy. He was stronger and faster than me.

  My stone began to drift toward the floor. Ulyanash moved back, giving it room. He smirked. Clearly he thought he had me.

  When the stone was two feet off the floor, I hopped down and faced him. He approached me carefully, circling, knife out and ready.

  Then, with a triple feint and a blindingly fast thrust, he caught me off balance and cut my chest. It was a shallow wound, little more than a scratch really, but it stung and bled openly. Blood flowed up into my eyes, and I blinked through a red curtain suddenly.

  "Wait!" Aber called. "Second blood!"

  Wincing, I drew back. Good—I needed a moment's rest. Grinning, Ulyanash moved back a few paces.

  "Are you satisfied?" my brother asked Ulyanash.

  "No."

  "Are you satisfied?" he asked me.

  "No," I said calmly. I began a slight shapeshift, closing my wound and stopping the blood flow. I noticed Ulyanash staring at my chest. He frowned. Clearly he wasn't used to opponents healing so quickly and effortlessly.

  That gave me an idea. Shapeshifting might be a weapon he wasn't used to—if the rules permitted it. Or even if they didn't.

  "So be it," said Aber. "Continue!"

  I circled to the left, keeping my guard up, while Ulyanash sprang forward like a wolf scenting blood. I retreated before him, concentrating not on the fight, but on my body, on the change I wanted. Timing, timing, wait—wait—

  I saw my opening. He lunged, and I let him catch my right arm with the tip of his knife. It pierced me so fast, I barely felt it, and his body continued on and over me. His left hand caught my right fore-arm so I couldn't counter. I could have driven the blade into his belly or chest othe
rwise.

  I pulled him close, chest to chest.

  "Big mistake," I whispered in his ear.

  I saw startled confusion in his eyes.

  "What—" he began.

  Then the shapeshift I'd already begun took place. My forearm lengthened, extending a foot, driving the blade of my knife up under his chin, into his skull.

  His eyes widened. His mouth opened, and I saw steel inside, piercing his tongue as it reached straight through his palate and into his brain. He screamed soundlessly.

  Like a tree toppling, he began to fall on top of me. I tried to pull back, but his weight bore me down. I moaned as the knife drove more deeply into my arm.

  His shape-shift began to unravel. As he became lighter and smaller, what seemed like a hundred different hands pulled him off me, began helping me up. I let my own forearm return to normal.

  A dozen voices were commenting at once:

  "Incredible fight—"

  "I can't believe you beat Ulyanash—"

  "—never seen the like—"

  "How did he—"

  "Well done," Aber said, crouching beside me.

  Someone handed him a goblet of wine, which he passed to me. I took a deep swallow.

  Freda was suddenly at my side.

  Freda said, "The knife must come out."

  I glanced down. Its blade was still buried in my arm nearly to the hilt. Tiny drops of blood beaded and rose into the air around it.

  "Do it fast," I said.

  "Not here," she said. She looked around. "Aunt Lanara—I need a quiet place to work."

  "This way," our aunt said. She had just reached us. Looking concerned, she led the way through the crowd—which parted for her—to the far wall. There, she opened a door to a small sitting room.

  "We'll be out as soon as possible," Aber promised her. "Oberon will be fine."

  "I promised you excitement," I said, grinning.

  "Yes." She frowned. "But I cannot tolerate such behavior. No more dueling at my parties!""

  I nodded. "I'm sorry. It was forced upon me."

  She ushered us inside, then closed the door on her way out.

  "Don't worry," Aber said, "she loved every minute of it. Her party's going to be the talk of society for the next month. And so are you."

  "Just what I need…" I muttered.

  "Sit down," Freda said.

  Finding a small overstuffed cassock, I did so. Aber used the Logrus to fetch bandages, needle and thread, and a small jar, which seemed to have salve of some kind inside.

  "This is going to hurt," Freda said.

  "I've had worse," I told her.

  "Oberon," Aber said. He was trying to distract me, I realized with a smile. "You let him stab you, didn't you?"

  "Not something I'd normally do, but…" I gave a little shrug and winced as pain shot the length of my left arm. My fingertips began to tingle with pins and needles.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "Did you see what happened?" I asked.

  "Just that you suddenly closed and stabbed him."

  I chuckled. "There was… a little more to it than that."

  "He did something with magic," Freda said.

  Aber stared at her. "What?"

  "I… do not know. I was looking at him through the Logrus as they fought. I thought I might learn something about Ulyanash from it."

  "Did you?" I asked.

  "Almost. He was using magic even before you fought. He had a faint red glow all over. Then, when you killed him, you suddenly glowed a brilliant white. I have never seen anything like it before. What did you do?"

  "I shape-shifted, too," I said.

  "To what?" Aber demanded.

  "I think I'll keep that part to myself," I said. If no one had seen what I'd done, I didn't want word of it to get out. I might have to use that trick again someday.

  Freda began to mumble something as she applied the salve. I felt better almost immediately. When I glanced back down to see what she had done, I realized she had applied the salve to the knife rather than to me. And, bubbling and frothing, the metal dissolved as I watched. Blood ran freely now, washing a few bits of steel from my wound. Even the leather handle fell off and bounced across the tiled floor, coming to rest against Aber's boots.

  "Neat trick," I said. I wished we'd had that salve in Ilerium.

  "It is the best way," she said. "Sewing the wound shut will hurt more. But I have a salve for the pain."

  She began sewing the wound closed. Her stitches were quick and precise.

  Aber said, "Ulyanash shouldn't have forced the duel on you. Nobody fights to the death anymore. It's… frowned upon."

  "Why?"

  "It's too easy for such fights to escape control."

  I shrugged, winced.

  "Sit still," Freda said. She had almost finished.

  I continued, "I didn't want to kill him, but if I hadn't, he would have killed me."

  "Yes." Aber's gaze was distant. "He had two chances to call the fight over, but he wouldn't. He had second blood, so there wouldn't have been any lost honor. It's clearly his own fault. No one who saw it will blame you."

  "Good."

  "His family, though… You're likely to have a blood feud on your hands. We all are."

  "Done," Freda, tying up the wound with a length of bandage. "No more fighting tonight, Oberon. Promise me."

  I rose. "I'll try not to," I said.

  Aber said, "That trick aside… honestly, I don't think you should have been able to kill him."

  I raised my eyebrows. "I'm pretty good with a blade, you know."

  "He was a Lord of Chaos. A full-blooded lord. You don't know what that means."

  "We are not as powerful as once we were," Freda said. "You know that."

  Aber sighed. "Not that again…"

  I looked from one to another. "Will someone tell me what you're talking about?"

  "There are a lot of important people at this party," Freda said. "I have been talking and listening. I believe I know what has happened to Father."

  I faced her. "What?"

  "It is about the Shadows. King Uthor says they have weakened Chaos and everyone here. He wants them destroyed."

  I looked from one to another. "What does that have to do with Dad?"

  She hesitated. "There are forces in the universe that are equal and opposite to Chaos and the Logrus. They work to strengthen themselves and undermine our power. King Uthor's investigation into the cause of the Shadows' appearance has somehow focused on Dad. They think he's responsible."

  "How?" I demanded.

  "Nobody quite knows. But if he somehow allied himself with another power, something different from the Logrus, he may have found a way. He was arrested when he reached King Uthor's palace two days ago. Somehow, he… simply vanished from his cell. It should not have been possible. The Logrus sealed him inside, without access to magic."

  Something different from the Logrus… I thought of the Pattern within me and swallowed hard.

  Suddenly, it all began to make sense.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  "If King Uthor is behind the attacks on our family, we must flee into Shadow!" Aber said. "I'm going now, before we're arrested next!"

  Freda gave him a withering stare. "Nothing has been proved about Father," she said. "He is merely suspected. We are not—because we have done nothing wrong. We may fall under scrutiny, but we have nothing to hide. If you run, they will assume you are guilty and take action accordingly."

  "Someone else knows about Dad," I said, frowning. Rising, I paced the room. "That's why we have all been targets. Someone other than King Uthor is trying to kill us for what Dad did."

  "Then you're saying it's true—" Aber began.

  "Yes! I… feel it." I swallowed, the image of the Pattern rising in my mind. Whatever deal our father had made with this thing, this power that was not the Logrus, I saw now that it involved me. Somehow, it had to do with the Pattern within me. If anyone else realized what I knew, what I could draw u
pon, I would be marked for death.

  Aber sat heavily. "I… hoped it was all a mistake," he said. "Someone pursuing a blood feud against Dad. But if he has betrayed us… betrayed King Uthor and the Logrus…"

  "Do not talk that way!" Freda said. "We do not know what he has or has not done."

  Aber raised his head. "You know. So does Oberon." I swallowed. But I could not reply. Neither could Freda. Finally I said, "We will talk more about this later."

  "We cannot leave Aunt Lanara waiting," Freda said, gathering her skirts and rising. "Say nothing. I will see what else can be discovered."

  The rest of the evening passed relatively uneventfully. We moved from the social hour to a huge dining hall. My uncle sat at the head of the table, with my aunt to his right and me to his left, opposite her. Aber and Freda sat at the middle of the table. A large section sat empty… I assumed Ulyanash and his followers would have been seated there. They had left early, taking his body with them.

  Two seats down from me sat my bride-to-be, Braxara.

  I had seldom seen a more unappealing woman. From her bald, three-horned head to her fanged mouth, from her pallid skin to her deathlike stare, every element repulsed me. Although I had fully intended to go through with the marriage to keep my word—it could be a marriage in name only, after all—upon catching sight of the bride-to-be I knew I had to find a way out.

  Still, a year was a very long time, and many things could happen…

  "A toast!" cried my Uncle Leito, standing. He raised his goblet. "To Oberon and Braxara!"

  "To Oberon and Braxara!" everyone cried, raising their own goblets.

  Glancing at my bride-to-be, I found her coolly studying me. I forced a smile. She did the same. Somehow, I got the feeling she disliked me nearly as much as I disliked her.

  It was late by the time the party began to wind down. I had seen little of Freda and Aber all evening—they had been busy gathering news and gossip—and I missed them. Aunt Lanara and Uncle Leito kept close guard on me after the feast, introducing me to such a steady stream of dukes, duchesses, barons, lords, and ladies that I couldn't keep the names straight or tell one from another after the first dozen.