Winds That Will Be — Aedan's Journal
"It Was a Solemn Dirge and Entirely Too Appropriate"
Aedan's Journal. Session 10-9-00.
© 2000 Todd Worrell
Well, I tried to walk down to the Sawall box. The crowd had spilled out into the aisles and was jumping up and down and yelling. So I tried to push my way down to the Sawall box. Growls and large demonic bodies prevented me from doing so.
I really wanted to talk to Merlin. Start at the top, right? We were cousins, closer in relation than any of my Amber relatives save Corwin. I had heard that he was quite a sorcerer. Given Corwin's personality, and Dara's apparent sociability, it seemed likely that he would be a fun guy. I was resolved to find out.
I jumped. I whispered the magic words my mother had implanted in my brain that night in Tir, and took flight. My arc over the masses was not unnoticed. The rumblings began in my immediate vicinity and quickly spread. As the wind rushed past my face, I looked down to see all kinds of angry Chaosians pointing at me. I smiled and waved.
Then the image over the field changed and became me. It is disconcerting, to say the least, to be hurtling toward your own head, especially if it is some fifty times larger than normal. However, my trajectory wasn't going to propel me through my face. I had intended to land on the field and walk to Merlin so I would fall short of the overhead image. Apparently my destination had been deduced, because there was a large mob of military-looking demons gathered in that exact location. They saw me looking at them and waved their weapons and spiky bits at me in a cruel martial display. They didn't look friendly.
Merlin and Dara vanished in an electric blue whirlwind that had Dara's look to it. My welcoming committee was eagerly awaiting my arrival, shifting into nasty forms with all kinds of unsociable projections. I wasn't completely sure that they would give me sufficient time to explain before displaying their combat skills upon my body.
I did what any intelligent person would do in a similar situation: I allowed myself to be rescued.
Giselle's trump call reached me several inches before impact.
"Aedan, w—"
"Yes!" I grabbed her hand and pulled myself through. I fell into her, but managed to deflect most of the impetus around her and onto a wooden chair that splintered and collapsed under my weight.
"Thank you, my lady." I bowed at the waist from the pile of wood shards.
"Aedan, you certainly know how to make an entrance," Giselle smirked.
* * *
The Memorial Service was beginning in an hour, so I had time to freshen up. Earlier, Giselle had crinkled up her cute button nose and informed me that I smelled like spices, incense, curry, and other acrid things. Apparently demons stink, more so when they're hungry for your blood.
So I showered, shaved, and did the little things that make life worth living. The formal clothes I had worn to Merlin's ceremony were sent to the cleaners. I put on the black velvet three-piece outfit that was tailored to provide maximum elegance and comfort. I tucked a royal purple cravat into the vest and pierced it with a diamond-headed stickpin. Pointed velvet shoes, a rich black top hat and black leather gloves completed the ensemble.
When I got to the Hall of the Unicorn, I saw that my attempt to dress for the occasion had been one-upped. Brand was resplendent in a black jacket with green lapels. He held a silver-headed cane and his hair was trimmed well for the first time since I had met him.
Everyone else was dressed somberly in black. Flora wore an understated ankle-length dress. Corwin had on a suit, as did Martin. Gerard had on a formal tunic and robe, with a heavy golden chain around his neck. All of my cousins were there except Magni. He was probably rummaging through all of our rooms at the moment.
As I milled around the great double door entrance, I could hear the strains of Lord Rein's "Toccata in D Minor" from the balcony. It was a solemn dirge and entirely too appropriate.
Amongst the nobles and family members in the foyer were a large contingent of Arden rangers. Their presence here was not unexpected, but I hadn't known that so many of them were Fey. Perhaps they had obscured their appearances in the past and only now were letting their features show. I was curious, but it wasn't the time for idle questions.
The Hall itself had been opened for the first time since Oberon's reign. It was a grand place of impossibly high arches, tall narrow stained glass windows, and uncomfortable wooden pews. The first few rows were padded, though, so the family had it better than the rest of the spectators.
There were a lot of them. Somewhere around a thousand invitations had been issued, and the vast majority of those people were in attendance. Boys and young men from the Church of the Unicorn ushered us in and seated us. I was between Gregory and Flora in the front row on the right side of the center aisle.
In the front of the hall on the raised stage was an ornate podium draped in black. Behind it were a series of tall candelabras in front of three large oil portraits. Julian's was on the left, showing him dressed in forester's garb, in front of a roaring fireplace. He was kneeling and posing with one of his hounds, looking very noble and dutiful.
Fiona's likeness was a formal setting. She sat in a maroon dress in a high-backed chair. Around her neck was a silver pentagram on a chain. Her hands were properly folded in her lap. Her pose was calm, but her eyes were full of fire.
Random looked pensive in his depiction. The weight of ruling had removed much of his boyish mien. With his eyes turned toward a sunset, he was definitely thinking about something. What it was, we would never know.
People sat. A priest of the Unicorn stood and walked slowly to the front of the hall. He perched behind the podium and spoke. It seemed like he wasn't actually talking, just acknowledging the subdued feeling that had overtaken the Hall. His voice droned on tonelessly for about half an hour. Then he stopped murmuring and I looked up guiltily. The priest walked back to his seat while Martin stood and addressed the gathering.
His suit was conservative, not the dapper jazz affair he had been wearing the night I met him. Someone had cut his hair and his face was clean-shaven and glistening in the sunlight filtering through the high faceted windows.
Martin read from a sheaf of papers. Impersonal, dry, and generic, his words sounded sad yet stoic. He didn't look up at all, and he didn't mention Random's name until the end of his speech. Then he stopped reading for a moment, and moved back to his seat.
Corwin stood and looked over the heads of everyone. There was a spark in his eye that I hadn't seen before. He just stood in the aisle and breathed as if daring someone to say something. Then he marched solemnly to the podium.
He began somberly and worked his way up to impassioned. He recounted the history of his family, how he had fought with all of his brothers and sisters at one time or another. He had seen so many important moments in his lifetime, and he shared some of them with us. Corwin shined that day, and I saw in him the old musician, the poet, the storyteller. My heart beat in my throat as he related what he had said to his friend Ganelon one night alone in a tent, and how he felt when he learned that his friend was also his father the king.
As Random had been king, but of a different sort. Corwin said that Random was a better king than he could have been. Judging from the hushed murmurs that this elicited, it was a revealing concession. Random had succeeded in building good working relationships with everyone, he said. His had been a peaceful, prosperous rule, and he had earned his rest.
My uncle finished his eulogy and stood for perhaps a minute, hands gripping the sides of the lectern. He stared out the stained glass windows as the silence stretched on. He seemed to remember where he was then, and returned to his seat in the front row.
An antique man hobbled to the podium. All in white silk robes, with green and gold embroidery, he was obviously a Priest of the Temple of the Unicorn. Judging by his high, pointy hat, he might even have been the Pontiff. A younger priest with a bad, priestly haircut hovered at the old guy's elbow, helping him make the long trek from the bench to the stage.
For some reason or another, everyone stood when the old priest did. As he tottered his way down the aisle, people even bowed. My aunt Flora reached out and touched his shoulder as he went by. He smiled at her and shook her hand. I almost stood and rushed at them. This was a terrible mistake. Flora's effect on men was legendary, and the poor guy was too near death to survive any sudden rearrangement of blood. But he just nodded cheerfully and wobbled onward. Perhaps, I thought, he owes his life to the fact that scars turned him off.
His eminence's thunderous throat clearing echoed in the high-vaulted hall. No, actually, that was thunder. The air suddenly got noticeably colder. Then a strong gust of wind blew in and slammed the great double doors shut. Servants hurried to prop them open. A nervous buzz ran through the room.
The priest shuffled some papers on the lectern and squinted at them. He held them up close to his face, so close that they were actually touching his nose. He lowered the documents and shook his head wearily. His assistant handed him a tome faced in green leather with a white unicorn tooled on the cover. The old man hefted it as if judging how much it weighed. Then, he spoke.
His voice was deep. It carried throughout the hall and undoubtedly into the rest of the castle. He had an actor's range and the enthusiasm of a man at least two centuries younger. He quoted verse from the Book of the Unicorn. Some of it was even marginally relevant.
Archaic Thai isn't that difficult to understand, but it can be damned funny-sounding. All those "thees" and "thous" combined with a few "wherefores" and "whither goests" would make good material for future court jesters. Personally, I think the Book of the Unicorn is written as obliquely as possible. Anyone can find anything in there if he or she looks hard enough; it's all interpretation.
I don't know exactly what the aged gentleman was talking about. I sat still and let my mind wander. Was it possible to create and cast a spell while sitting in the front row of the King's funeral without being noticed by my fellow sorcerers? Probably not, but my ears would need healing after this was over. The old guy could yell with the best of them.
So it wasn't until he stopped talking that I really looked at him. He was hunched over a bit, his chin drooping on his chest. I think he had just said the Benediction, so maybe he was being especially pious.
Even so, it was a long silence. Finally, the young priest at his shoulder touched him.
"Father…?" he whispered.
The old guy sat suddenly, half-falling onto a chair directly behind the podium.
Then, he burst into flames. Poof. Instant inferno. It was quite rude, actually, and totally inappropriate.
Everyone screamed, stood up, and began running for the exits. Well, nearly everyone. Brand only looked very surprised. I jumped up and ran forward but Corwin was quicker. He tore an ancient tapestry from the wall and threw it on the fire/priest. Shockingly, behind the tapestry was a gaping hole in the wall where blank stone was supposed to be. I landed on the stage and hurtled toward the hole just as a massive spell went off.
I detected the heady, floral scent that was Florimel's sorcerous signature. Calling up my sorcerous sight, I could perceive massive amounts of energy streaming outward from the hole in slow motion. My aunt's hex had halted the energy as it burst into the hall. I kept running toward the opening as I looked at it. There was Pattern energy, and Logrus, and a whole lot of Something Else, all wrapped up in a quantum sort of way. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.
Things happened pretty quickly after that. I was the first person to get to the hole in the wall. It was roughly three feet in diameter and completely opaque. I sent a will-o-wisp mote of light into the hole and it vanished. Raj arrived. He poked his sword into the opening then brought it out again. We both examined the blade's tip, I with my sorcerous sight and he with his manly vision. It appeared to be an ordinary sword.
Raj climbed into the hole. Corwin ran up and grabbed hold of the big guy's hand just before he disappeared. A moment passed before Raj's head popped out. He gasped, breathlessly. "The Unicorn's in trouble," then ducked back inside. I shrugged and dove in.
My will-o-wisp was hovering here, illuminating a small black-stone cavern. Three long strides from the entrance Raj was leaning over a waist-high table of rock. A glowing figure was draped across the table. I stepped forward.
It was the Unicorn, and it wasn't moving.
A two-foot long curved black thorn was protruding from the Unicorn's shoulder in a decidedly unhealthy way. It looked weird, full of that quantum stuff, and radiating anti-Pattern vibes. I didn't like it. My spell to heal the Unicorn fizzled.
Giselle stepped up to the table. When had she arrived? My blonde cousin waved her arms around in an arcane way. She grabbed the dark thorn-thing and threw it away. Raj tried to pick it up, but his fingers passed right through it. Giselle leveraged her arms under the Unicorn's body and the cavern faded away.
Or, should I say, we teleported out. Raj, Giselle and I appeared back in the Hall, up front behind the speaker's podium. The populace was busy pushing and shoving to get out the doors at the other end, so I didn't think they'd notice. Gabriel made sure that no one saw by casting a screen of blinding light across the front of the pews.
All the royalty in attendance gathered around: Giselle and I crouched around the now-solid body of our family's symbol. Corwin and Flora hovered nearby. Raj was staring off into the nooks and crannies of the room as if expecting to be attacked at any moment.
Brand stood, as if in the center spotlight. He stretched out his arms, fully displaying his fancy jacket, and a tidal wave of other power filled the room. Through my lens it looked like…fire and…water…combined somehow—liquid torrents of supercharged plasma, invisible to the untrained eye. I had never seen any force so brutal and overwhelming.
The afterimage burned in my mind, and I was startled to discover that my eyes were open. Sparks flickered in my peripheral vision, but in front of me all was emptiness. A moment or three passed. When I could see again, the quantum wind had disappeared. Giselle was sitting, rocking back and forth and crying. She was clutching something wrapped in Gabriel's cloak tightly to her chest. The Unicorn was nowhere to be seen.
"What was that?" Raj asked.
"I don't know how long the seal will maintain it in the Abyss," Brand said, "so I'll have to get back to you with an answer to that."
"Will you need help?" Gabriel stood next to his father. Behind him, Corwin paced back and forth by the hole in the wall.
"I don't know." Brand tapped a finger pensively against his lips. "That wasn't Logrus—not directly. It was more…turned, like the forces the Unicorn bore. Not Pattern, exactly, but the Order she represents."
I knelt and put a hand on Giselle's shoulder.
"What was it doing talking with Caine?" Brand turned and abruptly asked his son. Gabriel was taken aback.
"I don't know," he replied. "Everyone was talked to."
"Flora!" Brand shouted at his half-sister. She was standing obliviously behind Giselle, too distraught to do anything other than stare at her feet. At Brand's call she looked up.
"Can you research how long that," he pointed at the hole in the wall, "has been here?" Brand asked her.
"Well, certainly," Flora almost blushed. "I know the theory."
Brand nodded and disappeared.
I patted Giselle's shoulder. The tears had slowed down a little and she seemed able to talk.
"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.
"No," she said. "No, no, no, no, no—"
"Hey, it's alright," I attempted.
"It's not alright. I don't know what it is," she shook her head vehemently, "but it's definitely not alright."
"Okay," I conceded. I put an arm around her and made comforting noises. Gabriel's cloak fell open a bit and I could see what Giselle was clasping so tightly.
It was the Unicorn's horn.* * *
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