Winds That Will Be — Aedan's Journal
"More Than Mere Dreams and Visions"
Aedan's Journal. Session 10-27-01.
© 2002 Todd Worrell
Someone had used the Jewel of Judgment?
"So what?" I said. "It's probably Merlin. I saw him wearing it not too long ago."
"I doubt it's Merlin," Deirdre said. "The Jewel was used in Amber, in the Temple Beneath the Pattern."
By the Seven Hells of Scaethach! Hadn't I destroyed that damned place? I scowled at my ring. What good was it having such a high-and-mighty power if it didn't do its job? Deirdre must have seen the direction of my gaze, for she walked toward me and took my hand.
"I have seen one of these before," she said.
"Oh? Where?"
She dropped my hand and looked at me for a long time. I stared back at her and tried to keep from biting my lip.
"Brand had one," she said, "as did Fiona."
My mother regarded me coolly through half-closed eyes. "Where did you get yours?" she said.
"It was a gift."
Air blew out of her mouth in a disgusted huff. She folded her arms and frowned. She stared at me.
"I am free to make my own choices, mother."
"Like you did in the Abyss?"
"Yes," I said. "Where I would still be if I hadn't chosen as I did."
"I escaped without selling my soul to that thing."
"Unlike you, I didn't have a child searching for a way to rescue me, nor did I have a phantom mannequin designed to draw me back."
"Hmph," she threw her hands to her sides and walked away.
What had she expected me to do, deny my only avenue of escape from that frozen void? It had taken her plan over thirty years to work. That was nearly as long as I had been alive. I would have gone insane or killed myself long before someone found me.
Didn't she understand that? What could I say to make her understand? I had no idea. I really didn't know her at all. As I stood and stared at her in the hoary mistworld, I felt the tapping at my brain.
"Hello?" I said.
"Aedan, it's Gregory. Are you….?"
"Yes, I'm in Tir- na Nog'th."
"But it's daytime," he protested.
"Tir-na Nog'th is more than mere dreams and visions."
"Pull me through." Gregory extended his hand. "I gotta see this."
I did. As he arrived, Deirdre turned suddenly and a nexus of silver power flared around her. When she saw that it was Gregory, she relaxed and the power faded mostly away.
Gregory bowed to her.
"Forgive my intrusion, lady," he said, "but I have some information that you might find useful."
"Speak, then," she said.
"Leviathan spoke with me. It is now Eve's tool. It said that Eve had given it a purpose."
"Gabriel said that Julian and Flora had summoned it," I said.
"Indeed," Gregory agreed. "They made it. I am linked to it somehow. It is a creation of Julian's, like me."
"What does it want?" Deirdre asked.
"I don't know. It hungers, and only wants to consume," Gregory said. "Where Eve sent it is a mystery to me."
"We have to stabilize Amber against these powers," Deirdre said.
"How may we help?" I asked her.
"Watch first." Deirdre raised her hand and the web of power returned. It shone brilliantly, strands shooting off in all directions. She tugged and pulled on the filaments, rearranging them so subtly that I couldn't tell precisely how things had changed.
As she touched the web, images blossomed in the air around her. Translucent against the pale landscape, they moved in real time. I saw an elderly couple digging in a garden. An owl changed its flight direction. Behind it, the sky was many layers of different shades of gray.
Gealorea, I thought. Is it safe? My feet moved of their own accord.
Far away, I heard my mother's voice but I didn't answer. I took one step forward, then another. The world flowed by as a swift river of blurred images.
The heavy rustle of leaves made me stop. Around me, the jungle pressed inward. Ripples in the undergrowth showed me where the wind danced and played. I heard children's voices, laughter. Something brushed against my ankle, hidden below the leaves. I looked up and saw the distant fiery peak of Mount Elorra. Further west I could see where the Haladrim river emptied into the Sundeath sea. Beyond that lay the isle of Annuwyn and Silvervein Keep. Somehow, I had traversed days of shadow in minutes.
I was home.
* * *
I walked across the ocean, each step moving me hundreds of feet closer to the volcano Elorra. Up at the crater, a shaggy-haired giant reached into the crater and pulled forth a necklace from the glowing depths: a cabochon-cut dark gem surrounded on either side by a reversed crescent of silvery metal. The giant held his prize aloft and a smile creased his bearded face. He looked familiar somehow, like he was a distant relative I should recognize. I flowed over the slopes, ignoring the unreal rivers of lava spilling down at my feet. I crossed the miles to Annuwyn in three more strides, coming in from the southeastern side of the island.
My course brought me to rocky shore north of the fishing village of Port Feïnd. I swept over the bluffs and into the mainland. Immediately I saw the Glymmere and I stopped. Looming over the center, up to her knees in the sparkling water, was a fifty-foot tall woman. Dressed in long, flowing robes embroidered with knotwork, her arms stretched from shore to shore of the wide, deep lake. Long pale hair wove in and out of itself in a moving braid hanging down her back. With closed eyes and a serene smile she paid me no attention, so I hastened onward.
Across the lake, the land rose quickly. I topped the low hills and turned toward Silvervein Keep. In a moment I approached the tall, foreboding castle of my childhood with growing dread. I slowed as I saw the figure standing over the highest tower. Clad in a dark dress, she held a lute in one hand and a stiletto dagger in the other. Her hair was long and dark and held back from her face by a narrow silver circlet decorated with triskelions and roses. Her face was like my mother's, but broader and more rounded. She looked comforting and wise and I felt relieved.
I went in to the Keep. Apparitions of my mother's servants bustled about, ignoring me in their daily chores. I wandered the halls for ten minutes, hoping someone would acknowledge me. Samineh walked right through me and heard none of my implorings. I dried my eyes and went swiftly out of the castle.
I walked over the cliff and down its face as if it were level ground. A low fog blanketed the town below. Then Tanann rose before me, with its wide stone roads and low buildings. As I strode the village streets, I saw a well-built man seventy feet tall standing over the spires of Caer Draal. He was dressed in a scholar's robes, and held a bundle of scrolls under one arm. His other hand held aloft a huge lantern in which a white fire shone as bright as anything I had ever seen in Tir. From his open mouth, his tongue hung out. It was pierced by a chain from which a couple dozen ears were suspended. I recognized him and knew then who these giant beings were.
They were the gods and goddesses of the land: Govian in the volcano; Nant in the lake. Ogma stood before me. But the figure who loomed over the Keep was unfamiliar. I searched my mind, but I couldn't remember any goddess who held a lute or a dagger. I walked forward.
Inside the cathedral, I searched for Variga. I found her in her private chambers upstairs, bent over her ceremonial basin. She ignored me, even when I touched her shoulder. Reflected in the water in the basin, I saw myself moving as if blind. In the image I stumbled across a gray landscape of broken tombstones as rain and lightning danced in the sky above me.
I ran as fast as I could, letting my feet go where they would. In seconds I stood at the edge of the Bone Orchard. The skeletal trees were silent, but they shifted and swayed in the wind. I wasn't alone. Moving among the leafless trees were small pale women, even more ghostly than the rest of Tir's inhabitants. They flitted about by means of beautiful butterfly wings. I knew them. These were the Prime Spirits. As I watched, I saw that their movement had a purpose. They threaded through the narrow trees toward the far end. I crept down and followed them.
Between the trees I saw another gigantic woman, but her form wasn't the triple image of Mother/Maiden/Crone I had expected. Light glinted off a mail shirt. The woman held a massive, thorny sword aloft. Her helm had silver wings and a fearsome raven's mask . Her many-feathered black cloak fluttered behind her. My mouth felt dry. I knew her. She was Morrigan, the Goddess of War. As I realized this, she turned and looked directly at me. I felt her gaze fall upon me and I shivered. She lowered her sword until it was pointing exactly at my heart. Move, I heard Caine's voice say. I was frozen in terror. She took a step toward me. Move!
Suddenly, Brigit's servants flew around the goddess. She recoiled and swung her sword at them, but they were too quick. They swarmed over her and she moved back and back. Her left hand threw something to the ground. Hissing like a dozen snakes, smoke burst from in front of her and obscured the battle. It cleared in a second, but they were all gone. I was alone. The trees rattled and creaked as the wind howled through their hollow branches.
* * *
I felt like I was waking up, but my eyes had been open the entire time. The scene around me receded slightly, as if I were in the audience of the play and no longer on the stage. Closer to me, I could see a hint of something in the air, sparkling slightly. I reached out and felt the immaterial cobweb stuff. I pulled on a strand and suddenly I was spinning. The Bone Orchard blurred and streaked away from me. I released the web and I was standing on a hill overlooking a burnt stretch of forest. Blackened stumps still smoldered. The earth was scored and blackened, with only a few patches of grass to cover it. A silver fog lay over everything and told me that I was still in Tir.
Had I seen the past, present, or the future? I thought. Had it been real? How long had I been gone? I had no way of knowing. Time weighed on me and I wanted to return to Amber. Could I get back? I touched one of the cobwebs again, very gently this time. The burnt forest below me wavered but remained. The strand tingled against my finger. I focused on it and knew that it was connected to a greater web. I sent my awareness down the strand I held and quickly sensed a nexus. With a thought, I went there.
I stood on a gray pillar surrounded by empty dark space. Two steps to either side would cause me to fall forever. In the air were hundreds of webs, intersecting with each other and spreading out in all directions as far as I could see. Near me was a junction of about a dozen strands. I slowly closed my hand around it.
The tingling I had felt earlier returned. It grew and traveled from my fist up my arm and neck. As it entered my head I became aware of hundreds of images, each one pale and silver. I saw steep, snow-covered mountains; a lush river valley; a bustling medieval village; a chain of tropical islands; a murky, barren swamp; dry clay plains; a spherical, metallic space port surrounded by docked spaceships; and more and more. A dull throbbing pain surged through my head so I closed my eyes.
The images vanished, but I could somehow still sense their presence. I thought of Kolvir, the lonely mountain of black basalt. The cluster of threads in my hand tingled. The current left my hand and moved swiftly down a strand. I opened my hand and released the junction. I pulled cautiously on the quivering web and I was moving across landscapes once again.
I followed the web through a rapidly shifting background of blurred gray and black. After several minutes, I stood in the courtyard of Tir-na Nog'th's phantom castle. Ghostly servants ignored me as I released the strand of web and made my way into the castle proper.
I moved through the hallways without consciously deciding where to go. As soon as I entered the front door I felt something in Tir, a presence or object, that was different. It stood out among the translucent world as a faint pull on my senses. Hone your instincts, Caine had said, then trust them. I went up and up, eventually arriving at the highest battlement. In the real castle, this was where the stone steps to Tir were set into the wall of the mountain. I obeyed the pull and climbed the three steps.
As I reached the top step, I heard something that sounded like a soap bubble popping. The compulsion was gone. I turned back to the castle and saw Martin sitting on a crenellation. He was a spot of color that hadn't been there a moment ago. I called his name, but he seemed unaware and only stared into space. I descended and approached him slowly.
* * *
Martin didn't move as I walked toward him. I was worried that he might be dead, but when I touched his shoulder it felt warm. He gave a small start and turned to look at me. I sat down next to him.
"Aedan," he said. "Am I dreaming?"
"No, Martin. You're in Tir-na Nog'th."
"I don't remember how I got here."
"What do you remember?" I asked.
"I remember going to bed, but here I am, all dressed and seemingly awake. Then I was dreaming but I couldn't find my way."
"Your majesty, perhaps we should just go home."
"I think I tried that, but the stairs are gone. I can't leave."
"I'll take you." I stood and helped him up. He moved slowly.
We made our way through the castle, out the courtyard, and down the hillside until the silvery landscape around us diminished and dwindled to a solitary path. That path became stairs descending through a starry night sky. We walked on. The sky lightened until it showed late afternoon. A few moments later we saw the highest battlement of the castle, populated by four castle guards attentively watching our descent. As we touched down on the real steps, they saluted. Grayswandir shifted suddenly, turning into a sword and falling to the floor. I bent and picked it up to study.
It seemed normal when I extended my senses into it. I shrugged and sheathed the sword. Martin stopped and clutched at his side.
"Is anything wrong, your majesty?" a guard said.
"No," Martin replied. "Just a sudden pain. I get them all the time." But he turned and looked at me with an unspoken command to follow him. He set off at a brisk pace and I trailed him.
We hurried down through the castle. It was past midnight, to judge from the absence of servants. At one point Martin doubled over, his hand pressed against his side again. "Something is happening with the Pattern," he said through clenched teeth. "We must hurry."
We ran, taking the long spiral staircase as quickly as we dared. Perhaps twenty minutes later, we stood outside the door to the Pattern room. There were at least two dozen guards here, most of them keeping a wary lookout on the scene inside the room.
Martin and I went in. Gregory and Gabriel stood near the Pattern, both of them holding trump cards in their hands and concentrating. Gregory was wearing the full suit of his father's white armor. The trump cards were glowing hot, prismatic colors. Gabriel's face twisted in maniacal concentration. Gregory slowly pushed his hand into the card.
I cast a spell of protection around Martin and myself. The king commanded the guards to take cover behind us.
Just then, the entire room was flooded in rainbow electricity. An intense black column of nothingness speared through the ceiling and the floor where Gregory was standing, obscuring him for a moment. Gabriel shouted in pain. Suddenly Gregory's body was flung out of the dark column into the wall with a crash of metal against stone. In his arms was a naked man, curled up and unmoving. Gregory sighed and closed his eyes, slumped against the wall.
I ran forward to help him. He was unconscious, without any visibly broken bones, and breathing slowly. His father's armor was universally a deep black color. In his arms, unconscious, shriveled and twisted, with his skin flaking off in large patches, was Julian.
Martin had run forward and seen to Gabriel, who was apparently none the worse for the experience.
"They're both alive," I told him.
"Is that Julian?"
"Yes."
Behind us we saw the glimmerings of trump passage. I turned and saw Merlin come through on Gabriel's outstretched hand. He was dressed regally, in dark blue silks and velvets. He had a beard again.
"Martin," he said quietly.
"Merlin," acknowledged our king.
As if by some silent agreement, the two monarchs went off to a corner and spoke for few moments. I looked at Gabriel and remembered our discussion with Merlin about Martin being a construct. Apparently satisfied that he was actually Martin, Merlin waved his arm and disappeared. King Martin walked over to stand between Gabriel and I. We looked down at the unconscious men.
The guard had summoned help. An elderly nurse from the infirmary shuffled over to investigate Gregory and Julian where they lay. As she administered to him, Julian suddenly opened his eyes and sat up.
"Gerard!" Julian shouted, clutching at the old woman. "Where's Gerard?"
"Don't worry," Martin said. "He's okay."
The nurse calmed Julian down. A few minutes later Gregory awakened and was examined by the old woman.
"They're both fine," she told the king. "They should probably rest, but there's no reason to keep them here."
"I think I need to go upstairs," Julian said. Martin nodded. Gregory and his father walked slowly away, escorted by a pair of castle guards. We watched them go.
I scanned the room but could find no evidence of the strange black power that had rent the air. After a moment studying the Pattern, Gabriel told us it was unaffected. Martin paced back and forth and asked Gabriel what had happened.
"Gregory opened a hole in the air," Brand's son said with seeming innocence, "and he reached in to the darkness. He asked me to help him, so I stabilized the trump aspects of the gate," he said.
"You opened a magical gate in the Pattern room and didn't think you needed my permission first?" Martin clenched his fists at his sides.
"Uh, I…no," Gabriel said. He is like his father, I thought. He thinks he can act above the king's law. He is a danger to us all.
"And where did this gate open to?" Martin paced back and forth.
"I didn't ask," Gabriel replied. He bowed his head in shame.
"I think we all know where it led," I said. Martin stopped pacing. He and Gabriel both looked at me.
"Julian was dead."
* * *
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