"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.
Thirty-Three
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, keeping 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 th
e 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 you 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.
Thirty-Four
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.
We both leaped back at the same time too, swords up, panting hard. He looked as winded as I felt.
Slowly, we circled each other, swords up, feeling each other out. Though I hated to admit it, we seemed equally matched.
"I think the Pattern copied you," Aber said casually. I let my gaze flicker over to him for a second. He sat down under an oak tree and crossed his legs, relaxing. For all the care he showed, he might have been attending a picnic.
"Explain!" I said.
"I'm not sure I can." He laced his fingers behind his head. "But, in a way, I think you're both Oberon."
I leaped forward, a whirlwind of thrusting, lunging, slashing. My double gave way before me.
Although I could have countered each such attack easily, he seemed to be having trouble keeping up. An advantage? Did he lack my stamina?
We both drew back, panting, glaring at one another.
"Oberon?" Aber continued, "Do you want to know where I found him?"
"Yes!"
"Then I'll tell you. You will find it amusing." He cleared his throat. "I went back to the new Pattern after Dad made it. You thought I didn't know where it was, but I did. I saw Dad start to draw it, and I made a Trump to get back there. It worked. Dad was just finishing when I arrived. He attacked me - I don't know why, since I never did anything to him. He did it without warning - just drew his sword and stabbed me!"
I nodded. "He did the same to me. But I defended myself. He was crazy."
"Yes. I didn't realize it at the time." Aber paused. "Watch out!"
My double came at me again, sword swinging. I parried, then drove him back with an attack of my own, raining down blow after blow.
Still Aber talked. "I wished myself away - anywhere else - and the Pattern sent me outside the pattern. I crawled into the bushes, thinking I was going to die. Dad collapsed, like it had been too much for him. So I lay there, too weak to move, just watching and waiting. That's when you showed up. You walked the Pattern, woke Dad up, knocked him senseless, and then picked him up and disappeared."
Panting, my double and I drew apart again, glaring at each othe
r. I had never fought a man so much like me. He knew all my moves, just as I knew his. Neither of us seemed capable of gaining an edge on the other.
"Go on," I told Aber.
He smiled. "A few seconds after you left with Dad, the whole Pattern kind of flickered. Then he appeared. Another you . Only he was out of his head, too, like Dad had been. He didn't remember anything - how you betrayed King Uthor, tricked Dad into making a new Pattern for you, how you planned to set yourself up as ruler of all the Shadows."
"That's a rather twisted way of looking at things," I told him.
He shrugged. "The truth is in the eye of the beholder. Anyway, I took him back to Chaos with me, kept him hidden, nursed him back to health. But he wasn't quite like you. He's found it's more rewarding to follow King Swayvil. And he isn't trying to kill me. So, dear brother, I've backed my other dear brother."
"You want him to kill me," I said, "and take my place."
"That's right."
"And the two of you will rule the Shadows… with Swayvil's kind permission?"
He chuckled. "Something like that. Yes. You're smarter than you look."
I gave a double feint - one of our father's tricks with the sword - and my blade slipped under my double's guard. I put all my weight on my forefoot and lunged, gashing his right arm to the bone.
He punched me in the face with his left fist. I reeled back, stunned for a heartbeat, but he didn't follow up with an attack of his own.
I stared into his eyes. He made no sound, but I could tell he was in pain. He was losing a lot of blood fast. I must have hit an artery. His face went white.
"Yield," I said.
"I cannot," he replied.
"Why? Because of him ?" I jerked my head at Aber.
"No. Because there can only be one of us."
He switched the sword to his left hand. As I watched, the wound on his arm closed up. It seemed we shared another talent - he could change shape as well as I could. And he'd done it to cover up his wound and stop the bleeding.
I would have done the same thing.
Unfortunately, he would have to use part of his strength and concentration to hold his new form.
With all other things between us being equal, that gave me an edge.
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