Winds That Will Be — Aedan's Journal
"'Fly,'
I Said, and Fell"
Aedan's Journal. Session 8-18-01.
© 2001 Todd Worrell
A strong wind at my back, cheerful sunlight filling the sky, the promise of a warm welcome home—I had none of these things. The only breeze my sails knew was the miniscule runoff from the thousands of raindrops hammering down from a raging, stormy sky. If my tiny sloop was moving forward at all, it was only due to the enormous swells that vaulted me up and plummeted me down twenty feet per second.
Theoretically, I should have been able to change things, at least a little bit. I had seen others do it. Like them, I had walked the Pattern. I had practiced some, but with limited success. Now, I was riding out a storm of world-ending proportions with nothing more than the power of my mind to save me. Okay, so it wasn't really a gigantic storm, but if it was enough to kill me, that would be the end of the world as far as I was concerned. So I held fast the rudder and prayed my mast wouldn't break. Exhaustion sat beside me for hours as I struggled to keep my little boat from capsizing. If my mental exercises of power had any effect on the weather, I didn't see it. The Pattern in me was useless.
A hundred years later, the rains stopped and the sun broke through the clouds. I collapsed in a puddle of my drenched clothes and was swallowed by sleep.
* * *
When I awoke, I was someplace else. A wide orange sky stretched across the distant horizons. Green lizard-like creatures with translucent wings flittered about my mast. The ocean was calm, a giant lake of pale blue water. Long silver fish swam just below the surface.
When Caine had sailed us to Gealorea, this place was about a half day's worth of easy shadow-shifting away from my home. I tried to remember Gabriel's advice about shifting shadow as I inched across the water. Nearly two days later, half-starved and mind-numbingly weary, the first hint of the many-layered sky appeared on the horizon. I pushed myself, eager to see the peaked towers of Silvervein Keep loom on the cliffs above Tanann.
The sun crawled across the sky until it finally set behind me in a blaze of crimson and amethyst. I smelled the mint of the vella beds and knew that I was in the Sundeath Sea at last. The wind became erratic and I had to tack continuously to hold my course.
Finally, against the starry black firmament, I beheld the castle of my youth, silhouetted high above the warm glow of Tanann at the shoreline. But just north of the town a beam of light swept the water and the land in a circle. There was some sort of lighthouse perhaps a mile away from the town. That was odd. I knew it hadn't been there during my last visit home, some weeks prior. I heard an incongruous sound. The chug and rumble of a gasoline engine carried across the water. That was impossible. Caine and I had tested Gealorea's environment and had proven beyond a doubt that combustion didn't work here. I lowered my sail and sat quietly.
The lighthouse was perfectly situated to guard the harbor. It wasn't alone in that duty either. Peering through the darkness, I made out the shape of a ship sitting perhaps a half mile offshore. It appeared to be a large vessel, with a closed deck and a rising castle of sorts in the center. No, that wasn't exactly right. It was a gunboat, and it was patrolling the waters in a decidedly unfriendly manner.
I turned and sailed further north, avoiding the beam from the lighthouse. I dropped anchor among the Sentinels, a dozen dolmens that protruded about fifty feet above the water. I stowed the sail, stripped, strapped my trump deck to the small of my back and dove in.
The water was cold, much colder than I remembered. This close in, the Sundeath Sea was warmed by Annuwyn's steam vents. It was usually a comfortable temperature year-round. Instead, I had to swim vigorously to avoid freezing.
An hour later, I treaded water and considered my options. Between the land, the lighthouse, and the ship, I was going to have to find some answers somewhere. The land was vigorously patrolled by jeeps, with enough bunkers and regular guard stations to make sneaking around there extremely unlikely. The ship was moving too quickly for me to catch it, and at least a half-dozen soldiers on deck seemed to be doing nothing else but scanning the water.
That left the lighthouse as my only viable option. It was situated out in the harbor, attached to the land by a stone breakwater that was at least wide enough to drive a jeep on. In fact, one jeep turned and drove across it as I watched. I dove and swam as close as I could, up to the edge of the breakwater. A few minutes later, the jeep turned and returned to land. Immediately after, another vehicle approached and parked at near the lighthouse. I used its advance to cover my own. Crawling naked among the rocks wasn't fun, but I did it. The best place to sit and listen was below the base of the lighthouse, my back against the stone island, shielded from Tanann's lights by the guard tower itself.
Yes, I admitted to myself, it wasn't just a lighthouse. Alongside the bright electric light, there were at least two big guns on the uppermost level. Soldiers traversed the land above me at regular intervals. I had seen a few of them on the breakwater. They were armed with rifles and wore metal helmets and dark uniforms. Whoever had done this to my homeland was organized. I guessed that the church would have resisted, and hoped that Variga was still alive. If so, I promised myself that I would one day dance with her again. But concerning the situation, I doubted I could single-handedly eliminate all of the occupying forces. I chewed my upper lip and brooded over exactly what I was going to do.
That's when the Trump call tapped on my brain.
* * *
According to the Seraph and the Tower, I was the "Silver," whatever that was. Even Gabriel could have made the connection to Grayswandir, but what else was involved? Since I had a title, did that mean I had a part to play in the birth of the new universe? It seemed likely. That was pretty cool.
From what I could tell, the Tower was getting stronger every day, or she had been before we healed Martin and skewed everything. It was weird to think that someone, okay, some "thing," that I spoke with often was going to be a goddess. It would be like having the Unicorn as your pet. No, not quite that. But it sure was freaky.
The Tower had told us she wanted the "Gold." She still had Werewindle to distribute, but nobody was willing to ride out and talk with her. Brand had, I suppose, but he had allegedly already met her some hundred years ago.
Who was the "Gold," then? Brand had probably been it before, but he had renounced his allegiance. Raj seemed sworn to the Unicorn Beast Woman, so I ruled him out as well. Magni had taken Benedict's staff, so he couldn't be it. What did that make Magni, the "Wood"?
That left only Gabriel and Giselle. Knowing Gabriel, he coveted Werewindle and fully expected to inherit it. He probably thought it was his already; he wouldn't believe that some metaphysical power would have to give it to him.
Giselle was too erratic to carry a sword. Like a good fey, she would feel obligated to the Tower. Actually, the Tower probably wanted that obligation. However, I felt certain that Giselle would never accept it for the same reason.
Damn! Everything was a mess. I just wanted my goddess to flip the universe upside down. Was that too much to ask?
* * *
Never appear desperate, Caine had told me more than once. As he hardly ever repeated his maxims, I figured this one was important. Sure enough, I had saved Caine's life twice in the past six months, and both times he had been as unruffled as ever.
Naked except for my torc, bracelet, and with cards strapped to my back, I composed myself and answered the call. It was my mother.
She was somewhere even darker than where I was.
"Are you in position?" she whispered urgently.
"No," I didn't elaborate. She grimaced and spit on the ground.
"But of course you have the spell ready."
"Ahhh," I shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Pull me through, dammit!" She insisted. I did.
I put a finger to my lips. Deirdre eyed our surroundings as I eyed her. She was dressed in black leather pants and jacket, with weapons and supplies in various pockets. It looked like an outfit designed for a thief.
"What in Brigit's name are you doing here?" She shrieked. Above us I heard soldiers scurrying our way.
"Escaping, hopefully." A few heads and gun barrels poked over the lip of ground above us.
"For fuck's sake," Deirdre whipped out a gun and fired. The remaining guards ducked back. Deirdre handed me the gun and took out a knife. I crouched, prepared to pull myself up toward the guard tower, but Deirdre stopped me. Looking at her, I saw that she had purposefully cut her palm and was holding it out to me. At my look of incomprehension, she grabbed my free hand and cut it. The blood sparked, the world swirled, and suddenly the air smelled very different.
We were standing in a grove of trees, possibly somewhere in Arden. It was still night and I heard the telltale lack of animal sounds that told me we weren't in the deep woods. My mother released my hand angrily. I looked at it in surprise, for it had stopped bleeding. In fact, the scar looked at least a few weeks old.
"We have the best opportunity yet," she growled, "And you're going to fuck it up."
"I confess I have no idea what you're talking about."
She began to pace back and forth. A woman in a black leather suit identical to Deirdre's poked her head around a tree.
"What's he doing here?" The woman asked.
"Shut up and get my son some clothes." The woman saluted and ducked back behind the tree.
"Osric has joined us, and half of Jesby, and every last damn surviving member of the Rose Militant, and they are all relying upon you to get us into the Temple. But instead," she pointed at me and clenched her fists, "I find you gallivanting around Gealorea, wasting what may be our last chance to get Corwin out. So whatever excuse you have, it had better be a damn good one. No, it had better be fucking brilliant."
My excuse wasn't brilliant. It wasn't even interesting. Unfortunately, it was the truth.
Mother wasn't pleased.
* * *
Less than an hour later, I stormed the Western Gate at the head of twenty hand-picked men and women. Decked out in black leather, we flowed across the dark inner courtyard. Around thirty guardsmen lay dead or dying in our wake. I had lost about five of my group. I kicked open the pantry loading door and rushed through the halls. Ahead of me, servants fled and guards fell back. I heard the alarm bell sounding.
They had set up a barricade in the kitchen. Ten guards with crossbows opened fire on us. More of my people fell but we overran the guards. They all died quickly.
Behind the kitchen, I took the shortcut to the stairs. There were fourteen of us left. One man volunteered to hold the doorway while the rest of us ran on. I led them down the narrow passage, following its twists and turns at a reckless pace. A few minutes or a thousand heartbeats later, the corridor ended. I pressed my ear up against the cold stone. Silence.
Easing open the hidden panel, I peeked out. This route led to a point about halfway down on the main stairs. The place was deserted as far as I could see in both directions, but I heard shuffles and scrapes from above. I opened the panel and led my remaining troops out. Cautiously, we began creeping down.
This was where it got tricky. According to Deirdre, Eric was keeping Corwin prisoner in the Temple Below the Pattern Room. I had never heard of such a place, but it was supposedly common knowledge in this universe. Seven Hells! This was crazy. Was this real? I kept expecting to awaken and find myself hungover aboard the Valiant. That didn't happen.
Instead, I heard noise from below. I halted my squad and listened. The steady pace of regular footsteps radiated up at me, at least a dozen people. I heard the clank of mail, the scrape of armor.
We snuck down, trying to keep to the shadows. Just as the first guard's face came into view, I charged. My followers followed. We barreled into the column of soldiers, two abreast. A couple fell into the interior and screamed all the way down.
"For Corwin!!!" we shouted.
"King Eric!" they replied. Even in the heat of battle I thought that it was an odd battle cry. The guard always yelled "Amber!" in war. Then I saw him and realized what they were doing.
In moments, I was the only one of my group alive. I kept the pointy end of my sword at the guards, preventing them from rushing me. They held back as Eric moved toward the front.
"Care to test your prowess, uncle?" I called out to him. I knew I could kill him, I knew it. Corwin had thought Eric was the most skilled swordsman he had ever known, but fate was on my side tonight.
"I think not, nephew." He smiled handsomely and removed his gloves. He wasn't as stern-looking as Corwin. In fact, he looked almost friendly. "Throw down your sword and I'll let you live."
"Ha!" I brandished my blade. "You can't take me and you know it."
He shrugged.
"Your bravery is almost as impressive as your foolishness. You have no hope. Come," he slapped the palm of his hand with his gloves. "Surrender before you get hurt."
I heard the telltale shuffling above me and skipped upwards a few steps to steal a glance. Gerard was leading a squad of guards toward me. I thought for a moment he might be on my side, but when the guards caught sight of me they let out an eager roar. Gerard shouted them down and halted his advance.
"So you see, Aedan," Eric gestured at Gerard, then at the two dozen men with crossbows at the ready who had come up from below, "your choices are limited."
"Never underestimate me!" I shouted and leapt into the emptiness in the center of the stairwell. I fell rapidly, the wind streaking past my hair. Crossbow bolts filled the air but none hit me. I laughed and spoke a word that had been burned into my brain that night in Tir na Nog'th.
"Fly," I said, and fell.
And fell.
I hurriedly cast my teleport spell.
I continued falling.
Fifty feet later, I was still falling and rapidly considering my options. I guided my descent toward the wall. Brushing against it, I tried to slow my velocity, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. If only I had some decent rappelling gear, I thought.
The bottom rushed to meet me. I heard bones crack, splinter. Someone screamed in my voice. Then, merciful Brigit, I blacked out.
* * *
Remember the worst hangover headache you've ever had? Multiply that by twenty and apply it to every bone in your body. That's how I felt. Even my pinky toe was throbbing. My body hated me with every nerve I had. I guessed I had Llewella's bracelet of protection to thank/blame for my still being alive without even a single bone broken. But Leagh's Silver Chalice, I hurt!
After an hour of feeling sorry for myself, I realized that some of the pain wasn't receding. I felt straps on my body, fastening me to a flat board of some sort. I knew by now that none of my bones were broken, and my superficial cuts and scratches had stopped bleeding. I had a heavy bandage around my head, and one eye was obscured. The other one must have been swollen as well, for my vision was negligible.
The dim light didn't help. I squinted and turned my head ever so slowly. I was in a chamber at least a hundred feet across in all directions. Lit by glowing embers set into rough pillars, the place was spooky in that ancient and meaningful kind of way. Along one side, the light was reddish. I saw what appeared to be an ancient, dried flow of lava. The pillars near it were roughly carved with serpents and demons. Across the room, the light was green. The pillars nearby had unicorns and geometric designs engraved upon them.
I was near the center of the room. Directly behind me was a stone block of some sort. I couldn't turn my head far enough to be certain, but I guessed it was an altar.
I had made it to the Temple after all; Mom would be so proud.
After an endless time of pain, there was a distant scraping sound that echoed across the chamber. Torchlight flickered and I heard voices. Footsteps approached. It was Random, dressed in a fancy green suede vest with Amber's Unicorn on it. He was smoking a pungent cigar and grinning malevolently at me.
I said something witty.
"Mmnngthh," my swollen and bruised mouth responded.
Random laughed and turned as Eric and a group of guardsmen walked up.
"Put him there," Eric said, pointing near me.
The guards carried a large, flat board over and placed it beside me. An old man with a long scraggly beard was strapped to it, much as I was to mine. Was this what I would look like in a hundred years? His nose looked familiar.
Seven Hells! It was Corwin. His hair fell past his shoulders, his face was scarred and misshapen where it wasn't covered by silvery-black hair. He looked as close to death as anyone I've ever seen, but he was breathing-barely.
Eric knelt before me, smelling of cologne. He had on Amber's crown and the royal mantle. He smiled at me again.
I was really beginning to hate that smile.
"You'll notice," Eric gestured at the multitude of heavy leather straps restraining me, "that I haven't underestimated you." He laughed heartily at that and his yes-men soldiers joined in. It was beginning to seem unlikely that I would kill him.
Eric stood and walked away from me.
"Here they are," he said to someone I couldn't see. "Make your peace."
I saw her emerge from behind a wall of guards. My mother walked toward me, slower than a sunset. Her boots sounded hollow in that vast space. How had they taken her? I wondered. Looking at the disappointment in her eyes, I knew: she had surrendered to save me. Deirdre glanced at me, her face empty of all emotion. Then she stared at Corwin. She knelt beside him and took his hand in one of hers. She felt his pulse.
I don't know how long she stayed there, unmoving. I watched her the whole time. I didn't blink or look away. No one said anything. Finally, she stood and turned to where Eric stood, some ten feet away. She nodded and everyone left.
I closed my eyes and let the pain swallow me.
* * *
I held my mother's finger, my little hand wrapped around it as tightly as I could.
"Tell me of when I was a baby, mama," I said. I was three years old, but I remember it perfectly.
She smiled at me and rocked me in her arms.
"When you were first born, I wondered what kind of child you would be." She smiled, remembering. "Would you cry at night? Would you sleep well? When would you crawl? And then, when you opened your eyes, that first time, my heart shuddered."
"Why, mama?"
"Because your eyes weren't blue, like other babies," she said. "They were a deep, rich purple color, like the flowers that grow on the cliffs above Tanann. That's where you got your nickname, Aedan."
"Will my eyes change color when I'm older?"
"No, darling," my mother snuggled close to me. "You will always be my 'Violet Eyes.'"
* * *
I awoke and evaluated my surroundings. I was no longer strapped to the board. However, every square inch of my body was bruised. In the eerie red and green light, my swollen hands looked purple. I felt my head. The bandage concealed a particularly nasty bump. Various other parts of my body were lumpy and sensitive to the touch as well. After a thorough investigation, I determined that the only part of my body not bruised, broken, or bleeding, was a couple square inches behind my left knee.
I took a deep breath and cast a healing spell on myself. It fizzled. I fell unconscious.
When I awoke some time later, I felt marginally better. At this rate, I would be able to walk in a couple years.
I sat up. When the world stopped spinning, I looked beside me. Corwin was still there. His straps had been cut as well. I waited a long time until I heard him breathe.
I crawled to him. I blacked out at least once during that eight-foot long journey, maybe more than once. Eventually, I was sitting next to my uncle.
"Corwin," I said. My voice vanished in the darkness.
I listened. Had Corwin's breathing changed? I counted slowly; yes, it had. He was breathing more than five times per minute now.
"Corwin." Had his lips moved? It was hard to tell in the dim light. I leaned over and put my ear near his mouth.
"I want to come through," Corwin rasped. "I cannot reach from here."
That didn't make any sense. "What?" I asked.
"This place is barred to me."
"Who are you?" I didn't want to admit it, but I already knew.
"Is there no one left who wields the power? Thou must regain your strength and bring me through."
She was here, somehow: the Tower. "Where are you?"
"I am not. Open the way and I shall be."
"How?" I asked her. "I am trapped here."
"Thou needst merely unleash thy strength."
"Unleash? Caine took Grayswandir from me. I don't have it any more."
"Thou tirest me," she said. "I have given thee thy strength twice but thou hast given it away."
"Heal me and I shall go from this place and recover it." With a goddess backing me, I would show Caine a trick or two.
"I cannot heal thee. This place is barred."
"What place? This temple? Is the outside area barred?"
"I know not. I am not."
Primes' tits, I swore silently. My goddess was decidedly unhelpful. I would have to handle this myself. I sincerely hoped that when this was all over she would be generous in her appreciation to me.
I could drag Corwin out into the hallway and hope that I was free of whatever barrier kept the Tower out. Or I could sit here forever. I rolled on my elbow and pushed myself to my knees. The agony made me scream. I waited, but no one investigated. Eric must have given them orders to ignore me. Or maybe they were familiar with cries of pain. I looked at Corwin. From his appearance, I would guess that he hadn't said much of anything to anyone in several years.
I managed to crawl around him and wedge my arms around his chest. I could drag him backwards toward the door. It would take a few hours, at least, but eventually we would be away from the temple. I had nothing better to do for the rest of my life.
I heaved. My shoulders felt like they were being pulled from their sockets. I screamed again and passed out.
This is getting to be a habit, I thought when I awoke, a bad habit. I put my ear to Corwin's mouth again.
"Tower," I called.
"It would be very boring," Corwin's voice said, "if thou shouldst die."
"I agree."
"I cannot move Corwin away from this place," I said. "Help me escape and I will free you."
"The Sisters do not know thee, in this place. Thou couldst call upon them."
"How?"
"There is power in the blood of Amber," she said. "Use it here."
I remembered Deirdre's use of my blood to teleport us to Arden. I drew my dagger and cut myself. The image of Ygg popped into my head. It seemed a safe place to hide out and heal myself.
My palm dripped blood onto the floor. Nothing else happened.
"Blood doesn't work," I told the Tower.
"The power must be great to overcome this place."
"I don't understand."
"There is power in death. Use it."
I stared at my uncle's face, speaking with that being's intonation. "Corwin…?"
"He shall die anyway," the Tower said. "His body is broken."
I sat and stared. I touched Corwin's face, gently. Mother would never forgive me for this.
* * *
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