"Thank you!" Aslom whispered. "Thank you!"
I looked at Haetor and motioned him forward. The boy swallowed audibly. Clearly he was having second thoughts about facing a man who might be a god.
"Draw your sword," I told him. "Would you slay me this day?"
Haetor knelt suddenly, blushing furiously. "Forgive me, Most Exalted Oberon!" he cried.
"Rise!" I said sharply. "Draw, Haetor! Show me what a warrior-prince can do! Or are you a coward, ashamed of your meager talents?"
He climbed to his feet. Then, in a single fluid movement, he drew his sword and attacked.
I had wanted a race of warriors. I had deliberately sought out a Shadow where the strongest, fastest, bravest swordsmen lived… where they worshipped me as a god. But I never imagined how fast Haetor would move - or how brilliant a natural swordsman he might be. With the supple grace of a dancer, he launched a blistering attack that would have overwhelmed lesser men. I fought defensively, slowly giving ground before him, watching the darting tip of his blade for an opening. It moved like a hummingbird, left and right, up and down, testing my defenses and my speed. Other than my father, I had never seen a finer fighter. His enthusiasm, finesse, and technique could not be faulted.
But neither could mine. For every move he made, I had a counter. If his sword hummed with speed, mine sang. If his footwork dazzled, mine shone brighter than the sun. We fought differently, but the match was still uneven.
Finally, I saw the faintest of hesitations. His sword turned slightly out of position following my riposte, and his recovery had a second's hesitation. I knew, then, that his arm had grown tired.
I leaped at him. Sparks flew as steel rang oh steel. I advanced, falling into a deadly rhythm -
thrust, thrust, lunge - thrust, thrust, lunge. He fell back, and his face showed sudden alarm.
Then, with a twist of my wrist, I ripped the sword from his hand through sheer strength of muscle.
It went sailing through the air and landed point-down in the field to our left. Slowly, it rocked back and forth.
Haetor gazed dumbly after it, clutching his right hand to his chest. Then he faced me bravely, standing tall as he waited unflinchingly for my death-blow.
Swifter than he could follow, I dropped my own sword and closed with him. My left hand seized his throat while my right hand grabbed his armored stomach. Like a child lifting a doll, I raised him over my head.
"Listen well, princeling," I said softly, so only he could hear. "I can crush the life from your throat, or pluck your heart from your chest as easily as you can pick an apple from a tree. Your life is mine to give or take. Do you understand what that means?"
"Y-yes, Lord Oberon!" he whispered. His face had gone pale.
"Gods," I continued, voice low, eyes narrowing, "are quite hard to kill. Remember that."
He began to shake with fear. I saw belief in his eyes… and sheer terror as he realized suddenly life and death lay solely in my hands. I had but to close my fist and his throat would be crushed. I had but to press my fingers another few inch into his chest and his heart would fail.
I tossed him twenty feet, into his brothers' arms. They staggered, but caught him and set him down. As he reeled dizzily, I threw back my head and laughed.
"You will do well, young Haetor!" I said. That sounded like something a god would say to a loyal subject. "I have seen your future, and it is glorious!" I wished it were true. What did his future hold?
Haetor fell to his knees before me. "I swear to serve you for the rest of my life, Lord Oberon.
Command me. I am yours!"
"Retrieve your sword," I said. "We must all return to the city. Aslom?" I faced his father again.
"Yes, Lord Oberon?" He still looked greatly relieved that I had spared his youngest son.
"Tonight we will celebrate my arrival. Tomorrow you will begin gathering in your armies."
"You will lead us into battle?" he cried eagerly.
"Yes!"
"Against what foe?"
"The hell-creatures of Chaos!"
"Against the hell-creatures!" he shouted. His sons drew their swords and raised them, taking up the cry: " Against the hell-creatures! Against the hell-creatures of Chaos!"
Twenty-One
" O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on!" chanted the tens of thousands of men, women, and children jamming the streets of Ceyoldar. People had been streaming into the city day and night as word spread of my arrival. They had been calling my name for hours once it became known I was staying in the palace.
When I finally made my appearance with the dawning sun, a deafening cheer went up. They must have recognized me from the thousands of statues decorating the city - excellent likenesses for the most part, if I did say so myself. Today I wore magnificent gold-plated armor, beautiful but impractical, which the priests had provided for this day's ceremonies. A beaming King Aslom, dressed in shining silver armor and wearing his crown instead of a helmet, escorted me to the main courtyard. His four sons and a bevy of white-robed Priests of Oberon trailed after us.
The king and I stepped up into a waiting pair of golden chariots pulled by white horses, taking our places behind drivers in simple white tunics. At a signal from the king, the palace gates opened, the drivers clicked to their horses, and we rolled out slowly and majestically into the cobbled streets of Ceyoldar.
Footmen with staffs ranged ahead, calling warnings, making sure the crowds gave way. They needn't have bothered; everyone fell back before me, awe and wonder in their faces. It disconcerted me a bit, but I made sure not to show it. After all, these would be my troops when we faced Uthor's army.
"O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on!"
As we passed, the crowds dropped to their knees, bowing their heads. Still they called my name.
Slowly and majestically, side by side, our chariots steered through the packed streets. We
headed straight for the center of the city. There, half a mile ahead, rose the towering Temple of Oberon -
a gigantic pyramid covered in gleaming white marble. Its outside walls consisted of a series of steps gradually ascending toward a flat top. I had never seen anything so large or imposing.
"O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on!"
Trying my best to look godlike, I neither waved nor smiled. I did, however, nod approvingly now and again. That seemed to meet everyone's expectations.
When we rolled to a stop before the pyramid, I stepped down. Children began to scatter white rose petals before me. A choir began a solemn hymn in my honor.
Silently, I began to climb the steplike white marble sides of the pyramid, flanked by King Aslom and his sons, followed by the high priests. The sun warmed my back; a cool breeze swept in from the south. A few birds soared overhead, their cries lost in the almost deafening roar from behind and below me.
"O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on!" the crowds continued to chant. " O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on!"
It seemed to take forever, but I finally reached the top of the pyramid - a square area perhaps thirty feet on each side. A golden throne sat waiting for me at the edge, allowing everyone below to see me. At least it had a cushioned seat, I saw with a twinge of good humor - someone had given at least a little thought to his god's holy posterior.
Turning, I raised my arms. Instantly the crowd hushed. From this height, I gazed across the whole of the city, from the distant riverfront wharves to my left to the sprawling palace behind its whitewashed walls straight ahead to the crowded tenements on the right.
Though I knew many thousands of men, women, and children had assembled to see me, I was unprepared for the sheer numbers of them. People jammed every street as far as I could see, and they packed rooftops, windows, and balconies. I had never seen so many at one time before… there had to be hundreds of thousands of them.
I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous. It was one thing to address troops before a battle. It was quite another to talk to so many strangers, all of whom believed I was their god.
"G
ood people of Ceyoldar!" I called.
Criers took up my words, spreading them quickly across the whole of the city.
"I am Oberon!" I told them. "I am here to lead you into battle on a great cause!… We must defeat the foul hell-creatures of Chaos, who even now are preparing to march against Ceyoldar!… If they prevail, all who live in this city and in these lands will be slaughtered!… From the youngest babe to the oldest crone, none will be spared the sword! I say to you now… to all able-bodied men… go home and get your weapons!… We march at dawn tomorrow! …We will fight the hell-creatures, and we will prevail !"
Hundreds of thousands of voices began to cheer. The sound struck me like a physical blow. I raised my arms triumphantly, then sat back in my throne.
Girls in white robes appeared from somewhere within the pyramid, and they began to fan me with the broad green leaves of some native plant. Others approached with trays of delicately spiced meats and succulent fruits.
I waved them away. Stretching out my legs, I half closed my eyes, basking in the morning sun.
This was the good life, indeed. The cushion felt just right.
That night, in the palatial suite King Aslom gave up for my use, I lay back panting and spent for the moment. A dozen beautiful naked women reached out to caress and massage me. Ah, the powers of a god! If only I had the time to properly enjoy this world! If not for the coming fight with Uthor's forces, it would have been easy to dally here, taking my pleasures and reveling in my new-found position. People didn't worship me nearly enough back home. Especially beautiful and willing women like these…
Still, duty called. It had been far too long since I had talked with Freda and Dad. Best to check in with them in case something important had happened.
"Leave me now," I said with a reluctant sigh.
"Great Oberon…" purred Kelionasha, whose nymphlike pleasures I had enjoyed twice already
that night. She seemed to sense my approval. Her small, delicate breasts brushed gently across my chest as she trailed kisses up my neck, sending a new shiver of delight through me. "Have we displeased you?"
"Not at all." I smiled and traced the line of her jaw with one finger. "The business of a god calls me now. I must tend to it."
"Can it not wait?" Her tongue traced a light pattern through the hairs of my chest, around my nipples, and then strayed lower. Her hands began to caress and stroke gently. As I shuddered with pleasure more of these beautiful women reached out, a dozen hands massaging scented oils into my shoulders, neck, and legs.
As Kelionasha swung around and straddled me, I pushed all thoughts of Amber from my mind.
Another hour wouldn't matter one way or another.
"For you," I whispered, pulling her mouth down to mine, her long black hair falling in a cascade across my face, "even the gods will wait."
Hours later, completely drained, I managed to persuade the still more-than-eager women that I needed them to leave. It was a struggle. They didn't want to go, and somewhere deep inside, I very much wanted them to stay.
Finally, half pouting, they rose and began to file from the room, taking an assortment of veils, incense sticks, aphrodisiacs, perfumes, and bottles of scented oils. Kelionasha lingered at the door, her lovely eyes lingering on my face.
"Shall we return later?" she asked in that sultry voice.
I laughed. "Even gods need to rest. But maybe, just you, in an hour…"
She smiled and darted off.
Alone now, I pulled out my deck of Trumps, flipped through it quickly, and pulled out Aber's card. I raised it and concentrated on the image, and almost instantly I reached him.
"Oberon!" he said, sounding altogether too cheerful for his own good. He had been sitting at a worktable painting a new Trump. "You look exhausted. How are things going with the army?"
"I am tired. But things are going well here." Briefly I told him of the progress I had made in raising an army in Ceyoldar. "It looks like I'll be bringing back tens of thousands of warriors. What's happening there?"
"The weirdest thing," he said, shaking his head. "Dad came back without any troops and without Freda. He wouldn't tell me what happened, except that he ran into problems. He retired to his workshop."
"Without Freda?" Mental alarms went off. This definitely sounded like trouble. "Where is she?
Did you contact her?"
He shrugged helplessly. "I tried, but couldn't reach her. I don't know if she's busy, or…"
Uneasy now, I began to pace. "What else did Dad do?" I asked. "Could he have been a spy from Chaos? A shape-shifter, perhaps?"
Aber hesitated. "No… I'm fairly certain it was Dad."
"How?"
"He, er, went out of his way to insult me. Called me a layabout and a worthless piece of horseflesh. Among other things."
I chuckled and relaxed a bit. That did sound like our father.
Aber continued, "But then he asked where you were - he didn't seem to remember you all left yesterday. Like I said, it was strange. He seemed confused, but he wouldn't admit it. I thought his concussion might be bothering him again, or…"
I nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm. But with an imposter running around, we must be careful. Is he still there?"
"I left him in his workshop fifteen minutes ago."
"What was he doing?"
"Damned if I know. I didn't feel like hanging around and getting insulted, so I left."
I frowned as another possibility occurred to me. "Maybe you should get Doc Hand again…"
He shrugged. "If you ask me, Dad could use a few more blows to the head. Maybe it would knock some manners into him."
"Okay. Keep an eye on him. I'm going to try to reach Freda. Maybe she knows what happened to him."
"All right. For all we know, his mind started to go again, so she sent him home."
I nodded. "Do me a favor - post a guard on his workshop. Watch him. Let me know if he tries to leave Amber."
"Okay."
I covered his card with my hand, breaking our connection. Then I took out Freda's card and concentrated on it. It took her a moment to answer. She was somewhere in near darkness; I had to squint to make out her tired-looking face.
"What is it, Oberon?" She sounded half asleep. "It's past midnight here."
"What happened to Dad?" I asked. "Did you send him home?"
"What are you talking about?" She blinked and yawned. "I didn't send him anywhere."
"I just talked to Aber. He says Dad just got back to Amber, and he's acting strangely. He can't remember anything."
"Impossible. Wait a moment." She rose, turned up an oil lamp, and went into the hall in her dressing gown, carrying the Trump. "We are both staying in a comfortable inn. Dad should still be in the next room."
I waited impatiently while she pounded on his door. Then Dad whipped it open, bare sword in hand. He had a wild look in his eye. Leaning out, he glanced up and down the hallway.
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
"Oberon says you just returned to Amber," she told him. "Have you left your room tonight?"
"Certainly not!"
To Freda, I said, "Get back to Amber, both of you. See if you can find that imposter and hold him. I'll return tomorrow morning with troops… a lot of them."
She nodded curtly. "I will let you know if we catch him," she said. Then she broke the connection.
I put her Trump down and began to pace again. It seemed Uthor and his spies knew a lot about us… enough to fool Aber, anyway. Showing up and heaping abuse on him appeared to have been exactly the right thing to do.
Well, it wouldn't work for long. Never mind Kelionasha - I had to get ready to leave Ceyoldar.
At dawn, I planned to be on the road to Amber.
Twenty-Two
When Freda called me again an hour later, I was on the road leading King Aslom's forces down out of the city. I spurred my horse and rode twenty feet ahead so I could talk to her privately. "We have him!" she announced. "Father caught him in his room. He is bound
now, magically and physically."
I felt a rush of excitement. "Can you hold him there until I get back?"
"I think so. He can do no harm where he is."
"Good. I have a hundred thousand warriors with me, give or take a few thousand. Tell Aber to start laying in supplies. Since Uthor knows where we are anyway, he might as well use the Logrus to save time."
"Excellent. I will let him know."
I took me two days to lead King Aslom's forces back to Amber. It was neither terribly far nor a hard march; but the sheer logistics of getting so many people up and moving at the same time took far longer than I would have expected. My own experiences in Ilerium, as one of King Elnar's lieutenants, proved less than adequate to the task. Elnar's army had numbered in the low thousands, and I had commanded scarcely a hundred and fifty men. Here I commanded nearly a thousand times as many.
Finally, though, the horses and wagons and war-chariots and miles-long lines of infantrymen all
came within sight of the forest. A road had been cut straight through to the castle - visible from here only as a faint smudge on a distant mountainside - and we were quickly challenged by a squad of armed men.
I rode forward to greet them.
"It's the king!" one, then another, began to mutter. Quickly they knelt, heads bowed.
"Rise," I said, reigning in my stallion. "You must be vigilant. We caught an imposter at the castle pretending to be my father, Lord Dworkin, two days ago. Challenge everyone who passes, whether you know them or not."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
"You -" I pointed at a sergeant. "What's your name?"
"M-Mevill, Sire!"
"I must go ahead. You will take my horse and escort King Aslom and his men to Castle Amber."
"Y-yes, Sire!"
I rode back to King Aslom and his sons, who had drawn to a halt in their golden war-chariots, and apprised them of my plans. They nodded agreeably. After all, who were they to question the great Oberon?
Dismounting, I turned my horse over to Sergeant Mevill, pulled out a Trump of the caste's courtyard, and stepped through. It must have been quite a sight for Aslom and his sons - more proof, if any were needed, that I was a god.
To Rule in Amber Page 15