Guns Of Avalon

Of course. My only excuse for not tripping her up immediately was my preoccupation with the conflict Benedict would have been notified of the battle by means of the Trumps. Why should he waste time traveling when an instant means of transport was at hand?

“Damn!” I said. “She is in Amber by now! Listen, Benedict! I am going to get Gerard or Caine over here to handle the transfer of the troops to you. Ganelon will come through, also. Give them their orders through him.”

I looked around, saw Gerard talking with several of the nobles. I shouted for him with a desperate urgency. His head turned quickly. Then he began ru

“Corwin! What is it?” Benedict was shouting.

“I don't know! But something is very wrong!” I thrust the Trump at Gerard as he came up.

“See that the troops get through to Benedict!” I said. “Is Random in the palace?”

“Yes.”

“Free or confined?”

“Free-more or less. There will be some guards about. Eric still doesn't-didn't trust him.” I turned.

“Ganelon,” I called out. “Do what Gerard here tells you. He is going to send you to Benedict-down there.” I gestured. “See that the men follow Benedict's orders. I have to get into Amber now.”

“All right,” he called back.

Gerard headed in his direction, and I fa

“Hello, Random,” I said, as soon as his image came to life. “Remember me?”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In the mountains,” I told him. “We just won this part of the battle, and I am sending Benedict the help he needs to clean up in the valley. Now, though, I need your help. Bring me across.”

“I don't know, Corwin. Eric—”

“Eric is dead.”

“Then who is in charge?”

“Who do you think? Bring me across!”

He nodded quickly and extended his hand. I reached out and clasped it. I stepped forward. I stood beside him on a balcony overlooking one of the courtyards. The railing was of white marble, and not much was blooming down below. We were two stories up. I swayed and he seized my arm. “You're hurt!” be said.

I shook my head, only just then realizing how tired I was. I had not slept very much the past few nights. That, and everything else...

“No,” I said, glancing down at the gory mess that was my shirt front. “Just tired. The blood is Eric's.”

He ran a hand through his straw-colored hair and pursed his lips. “So you did finally nail him...” he said softly. I shook my head again.

“No. He was already dying when I got to him. Come with me now! Hurry! It is important!”

“Where to? What is the matter?”

“To the Pattern,” I said. “Why? I am not certain, but I know that it is important. Come on!”

We entered the palace, moving toward the nearest stairwell. There were two guards at its head, but they came to attention as we approached and did not attempt to interfere with our passage.

“I'm glad it's true about your eyes,” Random said as we headed down. “Do you see all right?”

“Yes. I hear that you are still married.”

“Yes. I am.”

When we reached the ground floor, we hurried to the right. There had been another pair of guards at the foot of the stair, but they did not move to stop us.

“Yes,” he repeated, as we headed toward the center of the palace. “You are surprised, aren't you?”

“Yes. I thought you were going to get the year over with and be done with it.”

“So did I,” he said. “But I fell in love with her. I really did.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

We crossed the marble dining hall and entered the long, narrow corridor that led far back through shadows and dust. I suppressed a shudder as I thought of my condition the last time I had come this way.

“She really cares for me,” he said. “Like nobody else ever has before.”

“I'm glad for you,” I said.

We reached the door that opened onto the platform hiding the long, spiral stairway down. It was open. We passed through and began the descent.

“I'm not,” he said, as we hurried around and around. “I didn't want to fall in love. Not then. We've been prisoners the whole time, you know. How can she be proud of that?”

“That is over now,” I said. “You became a prisoner because you followed me and tried to kill Eric, didn't you?”

“Yes. Then she joined me here.”

“I will not forget,” I said.

We rushed on. It was a great distance down, and there were only lanterns every forty feet or so. It was a huge, natural cavern. I wondered whether anyone knew how many tu

Long minutes passed. I could see the flickering of the torches and the lanterns below.

“There is a girl,” I said, “and her name is Dara. She told me she was Benedict's great-granddaughter and gave me reason to believe it. I told her somewhat concerning Shadow, reality, and the Pattern. She does possess some power over Shadow, and she was anxious to walk the Pattern. When last I saw her, she was headed this way. Now Benedict swears she is not his. Suddenly I am fearful. I want to keep her from the Pattern. I want to question her.”

“Strange,” he said. “Very. I agree with you. Do you think she might be there now?”

“If she is not, then I feel she will be along soon.”

We finally reached the floor, and I began to race through the shadows toward the proper tu

“Wait!” Random cried.

I halted and turned. It took me a moment to locate him, as he was back behind the stairs. I returned.

My question did not reach my lips. I saw that he knelt beside a large, bearded man.

“Dead,” he said. “A very thin blade. Good thrust Just recently.”

“Come on!” We both ran to the tu

I sprang through. Random was right behind me. The floor of that enormous room is black and looks to be smooth as glass, although it is not slippery. The Pattern burns upon it, within it, an intricate, shimmering maze of curved lines, perhaps a hundred and fifty yards long. We halted at its edge, staring.

Something was out there, walking it. I felt that old, tingling chill the thing always gives me as I watched. Was it Dara? It was difficult for me to make out the figure within the fountains of sparks that spewed constantly about it. Whoever it was had to be of the blood royal, for it was common knowledge that anyone else would be destroyed by the Pattern, and this individual had already made it past the Grand Curve and was negotiating the complicated series of arcs that led toward the Final Veil.

The firefly form seemed to change shape as it moved. For a time, my senses kept rejecting the tiny subliminal glimpses that I knew must be coming through to me. I heard Random gasp beside me, and it seemed to breach my subconscious dam. A horde of impressions flooded my mind.

It seemed to tower hugely in that always unsubstantial-seeming chamber. Then shrink, die down, almost to nothing. It seemed a slim woman for a moment-possibly Dara, her hair lightened by the glow, streaming, crackling with static electricity. Then it was not hair, but great, curved horns from some wide, uncertain brow, whose crook-legged owner struggled to shuffle hoofs along the blazing way. Then something else... An enormouse cat... A faceless woman... A bright-winged thing of indescribable beauty... A tower of ashes...

“Dara!” I cried out. “Is that you?”

My voice echoed back, and that was all. Whoever/ whatever it was struggled now with the Final Veil. My muscles strained forward in unwilling sympathy with the effort.