The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10

by Roger Zelazny

  I heard something snap like a dry stick. I wondered whose neck had broken. Mine sure hurt.

  I opened my eyes and there was the sky. I was lying on my back on a blanket on the ground.

  “I‘m afraid he‘s going to live,” said Ganelon, and I turned my head, slowly, in the direction of his voice.

  He was seated on the edge of the blanket, sword across his knees. Lorraine was with him.

  “How goes it?” I said.

  “We‘ve won,” he told me. “You‘ve kept your promise. When you killed that thing, it was all over. The men fell senseless, the creatures burned.”

  “Good.”

  “I have been sitting here wondering why I no longer hate you.”

  “Have you reached any conclusions?”

  “No, not really. Maybe it‘s because we‘re a lot alike. I don‘t know.” I smiled at Lorraine.

  “I‘m glad you‘re very poor when it comes to prophecy. The battle is over and you‘re still alive.”

  “The death has already begun,” she said, not returning my smile.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They still tell stories of how the Lord Corwin had my grandfather executed—drawn and quartered publicly—for leading one of the early uprisings against him.”

  “That wasn‘t me,” I said. “It was one of my shadows.”

  But she shook her head and said, “Corwin of Amber, I am what I am,” and she rose and left me then.

  “What was it?” asked Ganelon, ignoring her departure. “What was the thing in the tower?”

  “Mine,” I said; “one of those things which was released when I laid my curse upon Amber. I opened the way then for that which lies beyond Shadow to enter the real world. The paths of least resistance are followed in these things, through the shadows to Amber. Here, the path was the Circle. Elsewhere, it might be some different thing. I have closed their way through this place now. You may rest easy here.”

  “That is why you came here?”

  “No,” I said. “Not really. I was but passing on the road to Avalon when I came upon Lance. I could not let him lie there, and after I took him to you I became involved in this piece of my handiwork.”

  “Avalon? Then you lied when you said it was destroyed?”

  I shook my head.

  “Not so. Our Avalon fell, but in Shadow I may find its like once more.”

  “Take me with you.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “No, I would look once again on the land of my birth, no matter what the peril.”

  “I do not go to dwell there,” I said, “but to arm for battle. In Avalon there is a pink powder the jewelers use. I ignited a sample of it one time in Amber. I go there only to obtain it and to build guns that I may lay siege to Amber and gain the throne that is mine.”

  “What. of those things from beyond Shadow you spoke of.”

  “I will deal with them afterwards. Should I lose this time, then they are Eric‘s problem.”

  “You said that he had blinded you and cast you into the dungeons.”

  “That is true. I grew new eyes. I escaped.”

  “You are a demon.”

  “This has often been said. I no longer deny it.”

  “You will take me with you?”

  “If you really wish to come. It will differ from the Avalon you knew, however.”

  “To Amber!”

  “You are mad!”

  “No. Long have I wished to look upon that fabled city. After I have seen Avalon once again I will want to turn my hand to something new. Was I not a good general?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you will teach me of these things you call guns, and I will help you in the greatest battle. I‘ve not too many good years remaining before me, I know. Take me with you.”

  “Your bones may bleach at the foot of Kolvir, beside my own.”

  “What battle is certain? I will chance it”

  “As you would. You may come.”

  “Thank you. Lord.”

  We camped there that night, rode back to the keep in the morning. Then I sought after Lorraine. I learned that she had run off with one other former lovers, an officer named Melkin. Although she had been upset, I resented the fact that she had not given me the opportunity to explain something of which she only knew rumors. I decided to follow them.

  I mounted Star, turned my stiff neck in the direction they had supposedly taken, and rode on after. In a way, I could not blame her. I had not been received back at the keep as the slayer of the horned one might have been were he anyone else. The stories of their Corwin lingered on, and the demon tag was on all of them. The men I had worked with, fought beside, now looked at me with glances holding something more than fear—glances only, for they quickly dropped their eyes or turned them to another thing. Perhaps they feared that I wished to stay and reign over them. They might have been relieved, all save Ganelon, when I took to the trail. Ganelon, I think, feared that I would not return for him as I had promised. This, I feel, is the reason that he offered to ride with me. But it was a thing that I had to do by myself.

  Lorraine had come to mean something to me, I was surprised to discover, and I found myself quite hurt by her action. I felt that she owed me a hearing before she went her way. Then if she still chose her mortal captain, they could have my blessing. If not, I realized that I wanted to keep her with me. Fair Avalon would be postponed for so long as it took me to resolve this to ending or continuance.

  I rode along the trail and the birds sang in the trees about me. The day was bright with a sky-blue, tree-green peace, for the scourge had been lifted from the land. In my heart, there was something like a bit of joy that I had undone at least a small portion of the rottenness I had wrought. Evil? Hell, I‘ve done more of it than most men, but I had picked up a conscience too, somewhere along the way, and I let it enjoy one of its rare moments of satisfaction. Once I held Amber, I could allow it a little more leeway, I felt. Ha!

  I was heading north, and the terrain was foreign to me. I followed a clearly marked trail, which bore the signs of two riders‘ recent passage. I followed all that day, through dusk and into evening, dismounting periodically to inspect the way. Finally, my eyes played too many tricks on me, so I located a small glen- several hundred yards to the left of the trail-and there I camped for the night. It was the pains in my neck, doubtless, that made me dream of the horned one and relive that battle. “Help us now, and we will restore to you that which is yours,” it said. I awoke suddenly at that point, with a curse on my lips.

  When morning paled the sky, I mounted and continued on. It had been a cold night, and the day still held me in hands out of the north. The grasses sparkled with a light frost and my cloak was damp from having been used as a bedroll.

  By noon, something of warmth had returned to the world and the trail was fresher. I was gaining on them.

  When I found her, I leaped down from my mount and ran to where she lay, beneath a wild rosebush without flowers, the thorns of which had scratched her cheek and shoulder. Dead, she had not been so for long, for the blood was still damp upon her breast where the blade had entered, and her flesh yet warm.

  There were no rocks with which to build her a cairn, so I cut away the sod with Grayswandir and laid her there to rest He had removed her bracelets, her rings, and her jeweled combs, which had held all she possessed of fortune. I had to close her eyes before I covered her over with my cloak, and here my hand faltered and my own eyes grew dim. It took me a long while.

  I rode on, and it was not long before I overtook him, riding as though he were pursued by the Devil, which he was. I spoke not a word when I unhorsed him, nor afterward, and I did not use my blade, though he drew his own. I hurled his broken body into a high oak tree, and when I looked back it was dark with birds.

  I replaced her rings, her bracelets, her combs, before I closed the grave, and that was Lorraine. All that she had ever been or wanted to be had come to this, and that is the whole story of how
we met and how we parted, Lorraine and I, in the land called Lorraine, and it is like onto my life, I guess, for a Prince of Amber is part and party to all the rottenness that is in the world, which is why whenever I do speak of my conscience, something else within me must answer, “Ha!” In the mirrors of the many judgments, my hands are the color of blood. I am a part of the evil that exists in the world and in Shadow. I sometime fancy myself an evil which exists to oppose other evils. I destroy Melkins when I find them, and on that Great Day of which prophets speak but in which they do not truly believe, on that day when the world is completely cleansed of evil, then I, too, will go down into darkness, swallowing curses. Perhaps even sooner than that, I now judge. But whatever . . . Until that time, I shall not wash my hands nor let them hang useless.

  Turning, I rode back to the Keep of Ganelon, who knew but would never understand.

  4

  Riding, riding, through the wild, weird ways that led to Avalon, we went, Ganelon and I, down alleys of dream and of nightmare, beneath the brass bark of the sun and the hot, white isles of night, till these were gold and diamond chips and the moon swam like a swan. Day belled forth the green of spring, we crossed a mighty river and the mountains before as were frosted by night. I unleashed an arrow of my desire into the midnight and it took fire overhead, burned its way like a meteor into the north. The only dragon we encountered was lame and limped away quickly to hide, singeing daisies as it panted and wheezed. Migrations of bright birds arrowed our destination, and crystalline voices from lakes echoed our words as we passed. I sang as we rode, and after a time, Ganelon joined me. We had been traveling for over a week, and the land and the sky and the breezes told me we were near to Avalon now.

  We camped in a wood near a lake as the sun slid behind stone and the day died down and ceased. I went off to the lake to bathe while Ganelon unpacked our gear. The water was cold and bracing. I splashed about in it for a long while.

  I thought I heard several cries as I bathed, but I could not be certain. It was a weird wood and I was not overly concerned. However, I dressed quickly and hurried back to the camp.

  As I walked, I heard it again: a whine, a plea. Drawing nearer, I realized that a conversation was in progress.

  Then I entered the small clearing we had chosen. Our gear was spread about and the beginnings of a campfire had been laid.

  Ganelon squatted on his haunches beneath an oak tree. The man hung from it.

  He was young and fair of hair and complexion. Beyond that, it was hard to say at a glance. It is difficult, I discovered, to obtain a clear initial impression as to a man‘s features and size when he is hanging upside down several feet above the ground.

  His hands had been tied behind his back and he hung from a low bough by a rope that had been knotted about his right ankle.

  He was talking—brief, rapid phrases in response to Ganelon‘s questions—and his face was moist with spittle and sweat. He did not hang limply, but swung back and forth. There was an abrasion on his cheek and several spots of blood on his shirt front.

  Halting, I restrained myself from interrupting for a moment and watched. Ganelon would not have put him where he was without a reason, so I was not immediately overwhelmed with sympathy for the fellow. Whatever it was that had prompted Ganelon to question him thus, I knew that I, too, would be interested in the information. I was also interested in whatever the session would show me concerning Ganelon, who was now something of an ally. And a few more minutes upside down could not do that much additional damage . . .

  As his body slowed, Ganelon prodded him in the sternum with the tip of his blade and set him to swinging violently once again. This broke the skin lightly and another red spot appeared. At this, the boy cried out. From his complexion, I could see now that he was a youth. Ganelon extended his blade and held its point several inches beyond the place the boy‘s throat would come to on the backswing. At the last moment, he snatched it back and chuckled as the boy writhed and cried out, “Please!”

  “The rest,” said Ganelon. “Tell me everything.”

  “That‘s all!” said the other. “I know no more!”

  “Why not?”

  “They swept on by me then! I could not see!”

  “Why did you not follow?”

  “They were mounted. I was on foot.”

  “Why did you not follow on foot then?”

  “I was dazed.”

  “Dazed? You were afraid! You deserted!”

  “No!”

  Ganelon held his blade forth, snapped it away again at the final moment.

  “No!” cried the youth.

  Ganelon moved the blade again.

  “Yes!” the boy screamed. “I was afraid!”

  “And you fled then?”

  “Yes! I kept running! I‘ve been fleeing ever since. . .”

  “And you know nothing of how things went after that?”

  “No.”

  “You lie!” He moved the blade again.

  “No!” said the boy. “Please. . .”

  I stepped forward then. “Ganelon,” I said.

  He glanced at me and grinned, lowering the blade. The boy sought my eyes.

  “What have we here?” I asked.

  “Ha!” he said, slapping the inside of the youth‘s thigh so that he cried out. "A thief, a deserter—with an interesting tale to tell.”

  “Then cut him down and let me hear it,” I said.

  Ganelon turned and cut through the cord with one swipe of his blade. The boy fell to the ground and began sobbing.

  “I caught him trying to steal our supplies and thought to question him about the area,” Ganelon said. “He‘s come from Avalon—quickly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was a foot soldier in a battle that took place there two nights ago. He turned coward during the fighting and deserted.”

  The youth began to mouth a denial and Ganelon kicked him.

  “Silence!” he said. “I‘m telling it now—as you told me!”

  The boy moved sideways like a crab and looked at me with wide, pleading eyes.

  “Battle? Who was fighting?” I asked. Ganelon smiled grimly.

  “It sounds somewhat familiar,” he said. “The forces of Avalon were engaged in what seems to have been the largest—and perhaps final—of a long series of confrontations with beings not quite natural.”

  “Oh?”

  I studied the boy and his eyes dropped, but I saw the fear that was there before they fell.

  “. . . Women,” Ganelon said. “Pale furies out of some hell, lovely and cold. Armed and armored. Long, light hair. Eyes like ice. Mounted on white, fire-breathing steeds that fed on human flesh, they came forth by night from a warren of caves in the mountains an earthquake opened several years ago. They raided, taking young men back with them as captives, killing all others. Many appeared later as a soulless infantry, following their van. This sounds very like the men of the Circle we knew.”

  “But many of those lived when they were freed,” I said. “They did not seem soulless then, only somewhat as I once did—amnesiac. It seems strange,” I went on, “that they did not block off these caves during the day, since the riders only came forth by night...”

  “The deserter tells me this was tried,” said Ganelon, “and they always burst forth after a time, stronger than before.”

  The boy was ashen, but he nodded when I looked toward him inquiringly.

  “Their General, whom he calls the Protector, routed them many times,” Ganelon continued. “He even spent part of a night with their leader, a pale bitch named Lintra—whether in dalliance or parlay, I‘m not certain. But nothing came of this. The raids continued and her forces grew stronger. The Protector finally decided to mass an all-out attack, in hopes of destroying them utterly. It was during that battle that this one fled,” he said, indicating the youth with a gesture of his blade, “which is why we do not know the ending to the story.”

  “Is that the way it was?” I ask
ed him.

  The boy looked away from the weapon‘s point, met my eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly.

  “Interesting,” I said to Ganelon. “Very. I‘ve a feeling their problem is linked to the one we just solved. I wish I knew how their fight turned out” Ganelon nodded, shifted his grip on his weapon. “Well, if we‘re finished with him now. . .” he said.

  “Hold. I presume he was trying to steal something to eat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Free his hands. Well feed him.”

  “But he tried to steal from us.”

  “Did you not say that you had once killed a man for a pair of shoes?”

  “Yes, but that was different”

  “How so?”

  “I got away with it.”

  I laughed. It broke me up completely, and I could not stop laughing. He looked irritated, then puzzled. Then he began laughing himself.

  The youth regarded us as if we were a pair of maniacs.

  “All right,” said Ganelon finally, “all right,” and he stooped, turned the boy with a single push, and severed the cord that bound his wrists.

  “Come, lad,” he said. “I‘ll fetch you something to eat,” and he moved to our gear and opened several food parcels.

  The boy rose and limped slowly after him. He seized the food that was offered and began eating quickly and noisily, not taking his eyes off Ganelon. His information, if true, presented me with several complications, the foremost being that it would probably be more difficult to obtain what I wanted in a war-ravaged land. It also lent weight to my fears as to the nature and extent of the disruption pattern.

  I helped Ganelon build a small fire.

  “How does this affect our plans?” he asked.

  I saw no real choice. All of the shadows near to what I desired would be similarly involved. I could lay my course for one which did not possess such involvement, but in reaching it I would have achieved the wrong place. That which I desired would not be available there. If the forays of chaos kept occurring on my desire-walk through Shadow, then they were bound up with the nature of the desire and would have to be dealt with, one way or another, sooner or later. They could not be avoided. Such was the nature of the game, and I could not complain because I had laid down the rules.