The Great Book of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  We camped in a wood near a lake as the sun slid bebind 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 bis 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 seel”

  “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.

  “Hal” 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, firebreathing 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 souless 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 asked 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 bis 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 langhing. 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 r
eal 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.

  “We go on,” I said. “It is the place of my desire.”

  The youth let out a brief cry, and then-perhaps from some feeling of indebtedness for my having prevented Ganelon from poking holes in him-warned, “Do not go to Avalon, sirl There is nothing there that you could desire! You will be slain!”

  I smiled to him and thanked him. Ganelon chuckled then and said, “Let us take him back with us to stand a deserter's trial.”

  At this, the youth scrambled to his feet and began running.

  Still laughing, Ganelon drew his dagger and cocked his arm to throw it. I struck his arm and his cast went wide of its mark. The youth vanished within the wood and Ganelon continued to laugh.

  He retrieved the dagger from where it had fallen and said, “You should have let me kill him, you know.”

  “I decided against it.” He shrugged.

  “If he returns and cuts our throats tonight you may find yourself feeling somewhat different.”

  “I should imagine. But he will not, you know that.”

  He shrugged again, skewering a piece of meat and warming it over the flames.

  “Well, war has taught him to show a good pair of heels,” he acknowledged. “Perhaps we will awaken in the morning.”

  He took a bite and began to chew. It seemed like a good idea and I fetched some for myself.

  Much later, I was awakened from a troubled sleep to stare at stars through a screen of leaves. Some omen making portion of my mind had seized upon the youth and used us both badly. It was a long while before I could get back to sleep.

  In the morning we kicked dirt over the ashes and rode on. We made it into the mountains that afternoon and passed through them the following day. There were occasional signs of recent passage on the trail we followed, but we encountered no one.

  The following day we passed several farmhouses and cottages, not pausing at any of them. I had opted against the wild, demonic route I had followed when I had exiled Ganelon. While quite brief, I knew that he would have found it massively disconcerting. I had wanted this time to think, so much a journeying was not called for. Now, however, the long rente was nearing its end. We achieved Amber's sky that afternoon, and I admired it in silence. It might almost be the Forest of Arden through which we rode. There were no horn notes, however, no Julian, no Morgenstern, no stormhounds to harry us, as there had been in Arden when last I passed that way. There were only the bird notes in the great-boled trees, the complaint of a squirrel, the bark of a fox, the plash of a waterfall, the whites and blues and pinks of flowers in the shade.

  The breezes of the afternoon were gentle and cool; they lulled me so that I was unprepared for the row of fresh graves beside the trail that came into sight when we rounded a bend. Near by, there was a torn and trampled glen. We tarried there briefly but learned nothing more than had been immediately apparent.

  We passed another such place farther along, and several fire-charred groves. The trail was well worn by then and the side brush trampled and broken, as by the passage of many men and beasts. The smell of ashes was occasionally upon the air, and we hurried past the partly eaten carcass of a horse now well ripened where it lay.

  The sky of Amber no longer heartened me, though the way was clear for a long while after that.

  The day was running to evening and the forest had thinned considerably when Ganelon noted the smoke trails to the southeast. We took the first side path that seemed to lead in that direction, although it was tangent to Avalon proper. It was difficult to estimate the distance, but we could tell that we would not reach the place until after nightfall.

  “Their army-still encamped?” Ganelon wondered.

  “Or that of their conqueror.”

  He shook his bead and loosened his blade in its scabbard.

  Toward twilight, I left the trail to follow a sound of running water to its source. It was a clear, clean stream that had made its way down from the mountains and still bore something of their chill within it. I bathed there, trimming my new bearding and cleaning the dust of travel from my garments as well. As we were nearing this end of our journeying, it was my wish to arrive with what small splendor I could muster. Appreciating this, Ganelon even splashed water over his face and blew his nose loudly.

  Standing on the bank, blinking my rinsed eyes at the heavens, I saw the moon resolve itself sharp and clear, the fuzziness fading from its edges. This was the first time it had happened. My breathing jerked to a halt and I kept staring. Then I scanned the sky for early stars, traced the edges of clouds, the distant mountains, the farthest trees. I looked back at the moon, and it still held clear and steady. My eyesight was normal once again.

  Ganelon drew back at the sound of my laughter, and he never inquired as to its cause.

  Suppressing an impulse to sing, I remounted and headed back toward the trail once again. The shadows deepened as we rode, and clusters of stars bloomed among the branches overhead. I inhaled a big piece of the night, held it a moment, released it. I was myself once again and the feeling was good.

  Ganelon drew up beside me and said in a low voice, “There will doubtless be sentries.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then hadn't we better leave the trail?”

  “No. I would rather not seem furtive. It matters not to me whether we arrive with an escort. We are simply two travelers.”

  “They may require the reason for our travels.”

  “Then let us be mercenaries who have heard of strife in the realm and come seeking employment”

  “Yes. We look the part. Let us hope they pause long enough to notice.”

  “If they cannot see us that well, then we are poor targets.”

  “True, but I am not fully comforted by the thought.”

  I listened to the sounds of the horses' hoofs on the trail. The way was not straight. It twisted, curved, and wandered for a time, then took an upward turn. As we mounted the rise it followed, the trees thinned even more.

  We came to the top of a hill then, and into a fairly open area. Advancing, we achieved a sudden view that covered several miles. We drew rein at an abrupt drop that curved its way into a gradual slope after ten or fifteen precipitous meters, sweeping downward to a large plain perhaps a mile distant, then continuing on through a hilly, sporadically wooded area. The plain was dotted with campfires and there were a few tents toward the center of things. A large number of horses grazed near by, and I guessed there were several hundred men sitting beside the fires or moving about the compound. Ganelon sighed.

  “At least they seem to be normal men,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “...And if they are normal military men, we are probably being watched right now. This is too good a vantage to leave unposted.”

  “Yes.”

  There came a noise from behind us. We began to turn, just as a near by voice said, “Don't move!” I continued to turn my head, and I saw four men. Two of them held crossbows trained on us and the other two had blades in their hands. One of these advanced two paces.

  “Dismount!” he ordered. “On this side! Slowly!” We climbed down from our mounts and faced him, keeping our hands away from our weapons. “Who are you? Where are you from?” he asked.

  “We are mercenaries,” I replied, “from Lorraine. We heard there was fighting here, and we are seeking employment. We were headed for that camp below. It is yours, I hope?”

  “...And if I said no, that we are a patrol for a force about to invade that camp?
”

  I shrugged. “In that case, is your side interested in hiring a couple of men?”

  He spat. “The Protector has no need for your sort,” he said. Then, “From what direction do you ride?”

  “East,” I said.

  “Did you meet with any difficulty recently?”

  “No,” I said. “Should we have?”

  “Hard to say,” he decided. “Remove your weapons. I'm going to send you down to the camp. They will want to question you about anything you may have seen in the east-anything unusual.”

  “We've seen nothing unusual,” I said.

  “Whatever, they will probably feed you. Though I doubt you will be hired. You have come a bit late for the fighting. Remove your weapons now.”

  He called two more men from within the trees while we unbuckled our sword belts. He instructed them to escort us below, on foot. We were to lead our horses. The men took our weapons, and as we turned to go our interrogator cried out, “Wait!” I turned back toward him.

  “You. What is your name?” he asked me.

  “Corey"l said.

  “Stand still.”

  He approached, drawing very near. He stared at me for perhaps ten seconds.

  “What is the matter?” I asked.

  Instead of replying, he fumbled with a pouch at his belt. He withdrew a handful of coins and held them close to his eyes.

  “Damn! It's too dark,” he said, “and we can't make a light.”

  “For what?” I said.

  “Oh, it is not of any great importance,” he told me. “You struck me as familiar, though, and I was trying to think why. You look like the head stamped on some of our old coins. A few of them are still about.

  “Doesn't he?” he addressed the nearest bowman.