The Darkest Hour | TheDarkestHour / AGatheringStorm browse

[continued from Death Is Only the Beginning: Giillian]

Inside the library, the room remained silent. Dumb. Mute. Only the sound of the fire crackling. The low heartbeat of Castle Amber. No one moved. No one breathed.

Until Fiona snorted. “How. . .thespian.” She turned towards the northern exit, “You have your friend back. Enjoy.”

Unsure of her role now, Waya followed the Princess. She paused once to look back at Malachi. She managed a nervous smile, her eyes shining with questions and concerns. Then she hurried onward.

Malachi gave Waya's hand a squeeze and let her go. "Thank you," he said, intending the words for both the ranger and the princess.

She managed a smile, “Of course, sir.” She checked where Fiona was, and then lowered her voice. “Maybe we can talk later and you explain all of this too me?” With a quick nod, she hurried after the sorceress.

Malachi watched her go, wondering how much of it he really understood himself.

Gillian walked through the open gate and appeared in the room, Ginger clutched tightly to her chest. She stared wide-eyed at the people present, gulped and nodded in deference to Prince Benedict, and then her gaze found Seabhac. She set a protesting Ginger on the floor and rushed to kneel beside his chair.

Benedict gazed down at her with dark, suspicious eyes. His hand touched the hilt of his blade, as if in consideration. Whatever decision he reached, his nodded appeared friendly enough. . . for now.

She took Seabhac's cold hand in her own. "You look terrible. What happened? And where's the princess Fiona?"

Seabhac pulled her to him, hugging her – his body shaking with the effort. “I’m fine. And she’s gone. I’m just glad you’re safe. It’s been. . . too long.” He managed a weak smile, and then kissed her. “Too long.”

She returned the kiss, then rested her forehead briefly against his before forcing herself to pull away and face the room again.

Malachi beamed at Gillian, a broad grin stealing across his face. "Her Highness just left. Are you alright, Gillian?" It was the first time he had called her anything but 'Miss Talbot'.

"Da. It is good to see you, Gillian," Joao said. "And you as well, Ginger," he added. "As Malachi said, are you well?"

Ginger beamed and hopped across the table into Joao’s lap, “Do you have any idea what that woman has put me through? Do you? I’ve nearly been sliced, diced, turned into a pig, and sacrificed to some Goddess –thingie of Magick. Otherwise, my life’s been great!” She butted her head against his hand, “I need comforting. . .”

Joao started stroking Gillian's head automatically. "I am sorry, Ginger, for the travails you have suffered."

Ginger purred happily, squirreling in his lap. “Mrmmm… I never doubted you, Fish Boy. Someday you’re going to be my Tom, yes, yes, yes…. Oh yessssssssss.”

Gillian stood, still holding Seabhac's hand. "I...I think so. The princess was, um, detaining me," she replied diplomatically. She had questions she wanted to ask and information she wanted to impart, but Benedict's presence held her back. She didn't know why he was there, and he made her feel rather uneasy. "What's going on? And where's Cole?"

Benedict’s expression remained immutable. “He and Princess Rhea have stepped away for a moment. But will return shortly I’m sure.”

Gillian wondered if Cole's absence had anything to do with the mood of the room, but her curiosity regarding Cole did not overshadow her awe of Benedict. She nodded and looked away.

"We know," said Malachi. "We arranged your release. Or at least I think we did. Cole is fine. He, uh, answered the call of nature." Malachi did his best to cover for Cole.

"Oh," he added. "And it has been two months since we last were together."

"We need to confer about the current state of things," Temnal put in. "And for that, we all thought we needed you."

"Things have changed, Gillian." Joao said. "While we have been stricken, the currents have changed and not at all for the better. And, Da, we need your input and help."

Benedict cocked his head, “Yes. Your companions spoke highly of your abilities and wisdom.”

Gillian's cheeks colored. "I will try my best, sir."

Seabhac chuckled, “Fiona thought, otherwise. But your friends – especially Cynwyd – made a compelling argument.” He flinched at an internal pain, lying back to catch his breath.

Gillian glanced sharply at Seabhac in concern.

He shook his head, “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” He took her hand, “No worse than you’ve probably been through, Gilly.” His lips touched her knuckles. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Cynwyd slumped silent in one of the chairs, his arms loosely hung over the arms, a glass dangling idly between three fingers. He looked up with equal parts interest and exhaustion. A faint smile touched his expression at Gillian's return, but that was his only response.

"Thank you," she mouthed silently.

Benedict nodded to Temnal, “Correct. And the Dark Hour approaches, so time is short.” He joined Cynwyd, refilling the man’s glass. Quietly, he said, “You did well tonight. And you showed courage in front of my sister. Impressive.” He gave another nod, then turned back to the general discussion.

"More stupid than brave," he muttered darkly to himself hitting his head against the backrest. <And you don't even have to say it. There were a million other ways to handle that,> he thought. <And any of them would have gotten the job done without putting me... Us... on Fiona's radar. And I can tell from Gillian that she holds grudges. Great.>

Benedict shrugged. "If that is how you view it."

<Little Apple will come for you, as surely as the night falls. She will come at you sideways, when you are at your weakest.> Osric said. < But she also knows you are not to be trifled with. That will give her pause. Now and in the future. Use that.>

Gillian settled herself on the arm of Seabhac's chair and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're all right?" she whispered to him.

Seabhac nodded, cover her hand. “It can wait. There’s no time.”

"There is time enough for a more thorough briefing," said Malachi, turning from the couple to the rawboned prince. "Sir, you are an acknowledged master of weapons and of strategy. We are both soldiers and weapons, forged by your grandfather. Knowing what you do, what plan of action do you believe has the greatest likelihood of success?"

Benedict touched his cheek with a fingertip, “As I do not know the battlefield, it is difficult to create a proper stratagem. However, from what information has been provided, I would suggest that you locate and destroy the source of the Dark Hour. Although you have outlined adversaries, I believe the Dark Hour is merely congruent with their true goals. Dispel the Dark Hour, and you destroy their advantage. Whatever created this anomaly will likely be Pattern-based. That hints at something in Amber’s past. But, as I stated, you know more than I.”

"Also, we shouldn't waste our time and energy fighting the Greater Shadows," Temnal spoke up ruefully. "If what I learned during my time in Tartarus is true, destroying them only makes things worse." He sighed. "And I know, I'm the one who urged going after them in the first place."

Joao continued to stroke Ginger as he spoke.

The feline purred contentedly, closing her eyes and promptly nodding off.

"Destroying the Greater Shadows makes things worse?" Joao furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I don't think I understand--how does destroying them worsen our situation? And it is not as if they consider us with anything other than the desire to destroy us."

Benedict held up his hand, “Forgive me, but perhaps you may wish to expound upon that particular statement, Ser Temnal? This is counter to what has been discussed previously.”

Seabhac sat up, “One would say. I mean, no offense Temnal, but are you saying all those people died for nothing?”

Temnal's expression contracted in pain. "Believe me, Seabhac, that weighs on me too."

Sekhemt remained silent, nodding to her brother.

This had the effect of breaking Cynwyd out of his reflections and self-recriminations. He looked with decided interest- although he did remember that they hadn't tested Temnal, but with everything else, he abandoned that tack and merely awaited Temnal's response.

The library doors opened, and Cole and Rhea returned to the room, hand in hand.

Joao gave a nod to Cole and Rhea upon their return, a hand still languidly petting the sleeping familiar.

Cole looked around the room, and appeared to be relieved that Fiona was no longer present. But when his gaze fell on Gillian, his face lit up. He sprinted across the room and caught her up in a bear hug.

Gillian blinked in surprise and hugged him back. "Thanks for helping to bring me back."

Joao gave off a smile at Cole's sudden gesture. He then turned his attentions back to Temnal and the question at hand.

"Temnal is advising us not to kill the Greater Shadows--a turnaround from what he originally told us--and he's just about to explain why," Gillian said for Cole's benefit.

Cole released Gillian from the hug just before it became awkward, ruffled her hair in a brotherly way, and returned to stand by Rhea.

Temnal nodded. "I'm glad to have you hear it too, Cole," he said. Truth to tell, he didn't want to have to go through this more than once. He lay back in his chair, already feeling weary, and prepared to explain.

"From what I was told, by one of our ... predecessors in this job," he began, "the Greater Shadows -- or 'Aspects' as she called them -- were created by her and her companions in order to contain one who ... who now seeks only oblivion for himself and all creation.

"Eric. Or what's left of him."

Joao gasped in surprise.

Seabhac blinked, “But what about Prince Rook? Wasn’t Eric bound to him?” Then he paused, blanching as a nasty thought struck him. “Oh.”

Benedict raised a brow at this, leaning further into his hand. His eyes remained dark – a doll’s eyes. Unreadable.

"What?!" The word exploded out of Malachi. "I don't believe it," he said. "That's ridiculous. King Eric was a hero! He died defending Amber from the hordes of Chaos." "Death can do strange things to people," Temnal pointed out. "You should know that by now, Malachi."

Benedict nodded, “Deirdre was loyal to Amber. She died defending its interests. And yet, not a few moments ago, what remained of her attempted to destroy my nephew before our very eyes. This Dark Hour corrupted her spirit. Whatever remains of my brother may be equally despoiled. And that is if one considers only his Pattern Ghost.”

"Who is this 'predecessor' you're talking to, Temnal?" Malachi continued.

Though Cynwyd had information and suppositions that mad perfect sense now with that information, he held his tongue, now on the edge of his seat as he anxiously awaited Temnal's answer.

Temnal's golden eyes began to shimmer with tears. "My Lady," he said softly.

Sekhmet frowned with concern, her hand touching Temnal’s shoulder. “Your Lady? Truly?”

"I fear so," he replied.

"I don't know what that means," says Malachi. "Who is your lady, and how is she our predecessor?"

Benedict chimed, “May I assume you are not referring to a predecessor in the ancestral context?”

"Quite so, sir. I meant that we appear not to be the first to be ... assigned to deal with the Dark Hour," Temnal answered the Prince.

Seabhac blinked, “You mean this has happened before?”

Benedict closed his eyes and nodded. “It is becoming clearer. But before I pass judgment, I wish to hear more.”

"If I may..." Gillian began. "There are a lot of stray pieces of information that we all have. Let's start putting them out there to see and ponder, and hopefully we'll be able to start fitting them together. As the Baroness Solataire is so, so fond of saying to me: we're seeing the trees and not the forest. Hopefully this will shed some light on Prince Eric's involvement as well."

Benedict turned his attention on her, as did Seabhac. Both appeared very interested in what she had to add to the discourse.

She didn't look at all comfortable taking the lead like she was, but Gillian swallowed and continued on gamely.

"What follows are bits of information that the Baroness has said. Some to just me, and some while we were with Temnal and Seabhac and Malachi. I preface this by stating the source because I don't know if we can trust her--she is the Avatar of the Logrus, after all. However, Chaos is tied inextricably to Order, and I believe she believes it's in Chaos's best interest that Amber survive." Gillian shrugged. "Seabhac can also probably offer an opinion as to her trustworthiness..."

_Though he's not likely to be impartial, due to the fact that they have a son_, Gillian thought to herself. She bit her lower lip, avoided looking at Seabhac, and continued on.

Sekhmet rankled at this, “The Baroness is above reproach. If anything, it is we who should have hold great distrust. Your Family’s propensity for deceit is well known in the Courts.”

Seabhac coughed lightly, “Sekhmet. . . your Mistress, while wise, is not always. . . forthcoming. Unless it suits her goals.”

“You’ll forgive me, Prince, if I do not hold much stock in your observations on the Baroness,” she retorted.

"The Baroness also tends to speak around things rather than plainly, so these really need to be treated as my interpretations of what she's said.

"There are a number of events that happened around the time of the Patternfall War. I believe the primary event was Prince Brand spilling royal blood on the Primal Pattern, weakening it. After that, Prince Corwin uttered a blood curse which created the Black Road. The curse was so effective because the Primal Pattern was damaged and could not soften it.

"Prince Eric also uttered a blood curse, though his was rendered more potent than Prince Corwin's due to his attunement and proximity to the Jewel of Judgement. Eric was mortally wounded, and it's likely the Jewel was also covered in his blood at the time of the curse. The Baroness told me that his curse was aimed at the legions attacking Amber, and that it created a sort of prison as punishment for them. His curse was that they would have no peace in life or death. This created the Dark Hour realm, which the Baroness believes is a 'less friendly version of the Wake'. There is bleedover from this place to Amber, which she believes was unintentional, but which others--like Suhuy--have discovered and are exploiting for their own purposes."

"I believe I've seen it," Temnal put in, "or at least a manifestation of it, when I was on my way to Amber. A wall of mist that no one dared breach. My foster father called it the Scar." He glanced up at Sekhmet to see if she recalled anything about it.

Sekhmet nodded, “It is what remains of the Black Road. When the shadow storms receded after the Patternfall War, it remained. It appears throughout Creation, just as the Road did. But whatever lies beyond that fog is unknown. No one who enters returns.”

Benedict nodded, “Indeed. Reality breaks down beyond the Boundary. My sister has long believed it may be the result of damage to the Primal Pattern. The nature of that damage remains unknown. Perhaps until now.”

[Gillian continued] "Prince Corwin created the Rose Pattern, which was like a dam and held in the wave of destruction from Chaos long enough for King Oberon to fix the damage to the Primal Pattern. But I don't think he managed to fix it all, and I offer as evidence that the Scar in Garnath still exists. And that Dworkin is still, um, unbalanced. Perhaps the bleedover from the Dark Hour realm is what the king could not fix. This implies that the Primal Pattern is still damaged somehow. I don't know if someone has checked it out since the War ended.

"As for Eric, perhaps when he died he was caught up in the wave of souls snared by the Dark Hour realm and he ended up in the prison he created, hoist by his own petard."

Gillian looked up expectantly, waiting for the next person to add their own bits to the pot.

Benedict smiled thinly, “Now, I understand why your friends went to such great lengths and personal risk to retrieve you, Ms. Talbot. You have a keen insight and grasp of matters. The Blood Curse uttered by my brother, Corwin, damned us to the Great War. I’ve long wondered when Eric’s Curse would come to fruition. If one created the Black Road, I see no reason why the other could not create a Manifestation like the Dark Hour. And, as you say, he held the Jewel at the moment of his demise. A Power onto itself.”

Gillian colored at the praise. She wondered if Prince Benedict would have supported her friends rescuing her for loyalty's sake, and not just because she was deemed useful. She squeezed Seabhac's hand tighter.

[Benedict] shifted in his chair, “Eric should not have died that day. His injuries, while severe, were not enough to kill one of Us. I’ve wondered if the Jewel may have weakened him. Fed on him. Another similarity to your Shadows.”

Joao cleared his throat. "I have paid attention to reactions to my story of what happened to me when I was under apathy syndrome." he said. "When I mentioned that the Fedorovs attempted to make me one of them, this name was not unfamiliar." He looked to Seabhac and Benedict.

Seabhac nodded, nervous. “They were a family of fanatics. Matriarchal and devoted to the Serpent’s dark aspect. They were also very powerful politically before the War. If Brand hadn’t set them on their grand crusade, they could have easily ascended to become a Great House. If they’re trapped in the Dark Hour, then I shudder to think of the hells they could unleash on Amber.”

<We are a Great House> Binah growled; Joao’s hand twitching like a cat’s claw.

"I suspect that the Fedorovs are, were a known quantity in Chaos, da? Or perhaps during the War?" he said. "So they are caught in this blood curse of Eric's that Miss Talbot speaks of? Does the rest of their family in Chaos know of this imprisonment? We do know there are those working for unknown goals in the Dark Hour, like Anthony."

Sekhmet, still glowering at Seabhac, straightened up, “I doubt that. They fell to infighting and exterior threats. Houses rise and fall in the Courts. Some fall farther than others and do not rise again.”

Joao winced, not only from his hand and Binah's inflused thoughts, but because of noble politics in Rebma. The similarity between Rebma and the Courts was striking. And disturbing. He dismissed it as coincidence and convergent development.

"How many factions are there aware of the Dark Hour is a good question. But we are speaking of facts and not theories now." he corrected himself.

Benedict nodded to him, “Indeed. How many threats do we truly face?”

Cole started ticking items off on his fingers. "The shadows: just the ordinary ones that inhabit the Dark Hour are dangerous enough. The greater shadows, which seem to correspond to a tarot trump deck, and apparently were created by these predecessors Temnal mentions, perhaps from the lesser shadows. The predecessors themselves, whom we don't know much about, including where they came from or how many there are, but I think I killed one while I was in my coma. The Man of Worms, who seems to be exploiting the dark hour to expand the Logrus's influence. Our counterparts, including Anthony, who appear to have been bonded by the Man of Worms. And possibly King Eric himself. Drat, ran out of fingers."

"And those are the just ones we have met. Da." Joao agreed. He quieted to let Cole continue.

"Seabhac, you seem to have had some enlightenment regarding Rook and Eric. Care to share with the rest of the class?"

Gillian, who had been counting the threats off in her head as Cole listed them, looked up with a puzzled expression. He only had six fingers?

"Before Seabhac confuses the issue more, I just wanted to say that I think we're getting our threads mixed up," Cynwyd interjected, his brow furrowing as he mentally placed the pieces. "From what Temnal has said, I'd doubt that his 'Lady' had any part in creating the shadows- other than perhaps unintentionally as we did. She seems the same as my benefactor from that place- Princess Mirelle." He looked to Temnal, asking, "Was your 'Lady' perhaps one blooded, and unwilling or unable to tell you who she was? That would be my question."

<<Mirelle,>> Malachi said inside his head. <<Does this make any sense to you, my love? Has your grandfather ever mentioned the possibility of King Eric's curse being the source of our problem?>> Malachi found it difficult to believe Eric, a hero to Malachi's strong and simple people, could have done so grave a hurt to Amber.

Mirelle stirred within him. She’d been listening, and he sensed her confusion and wonderment. <My Grandfather was mad. Is mad. He no more confided in me than one might a pet dog. But, I watched. I listened. I learned. Some time ago, something. . . hurt him. Like a fracture, a splinter in his mind. He is the Pattern, my love. And the Pattern is him. Just as the Jewel is the Pattern.

Temnal shook his head. "She couldn't remember. All she had left of whatever she had been was fragments, images ... not a self. But those didn't suggest one of the Blood -- of either end of Creation -- unless she was one who never knew her heritage."

Benedict lightly rapped the arm of his chair, “This woman was one of you. One of the Bound. As you said, this has happened before. I suspect it occurred ten years ago. On the Night of Long Knives.

[Cynwyd continued] "But other than that, there seem to be these powers that know about the Dark Hour, but are unable to interfere- the kingmakers using us as their pawns in one way or another. There also seem to be those creations that were in our Apathy syndrome, which was the reason that I looked with skepticism to begin with at Joao's story- they wanted to replace our Others, and create us in their image to be their instruments on this side, so his story didn't seem to align with what I'd learned, as there should have been a central being that wanted to bond with him in much the same way that our individual Others have."

Gillian turned and raised an eyebrow at Joao.

"I'll explain later." he said.

[Cwynwyd] paused for a second, thinking, then shook the wool from his head continuing. "As for the third angle- I think that Cole's question leads directly into that, so I'll wait for that answer before continuing," he finished, looking towards the other man.

"Oh!" Cole said, brightening. "Impending war in the Golden Circle. I forgot to list that one."

Rhea lightly thumped him on the shoulder, “Your clown is showing, dear.” She stared up at him, trying to look stern… failing.

He gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Sorry," he whispered. "I don't handle seriousness well."

"And that has to do with Rusalka, and her Other," Temnal pointed out, recalling his conversation with Solataire.

"Mmm," Joao temporized. He still had to talk to Mother, and the Rebman Ambassador, and get a more Rebman viewpoint on what was happening. And What Might Be Done.

Seabhac, sensing the hanging question, coughed for attention. “So. Regarding King Eric. Consider what happened to me a moment ago with Deirdre’s Pattern Ghost. She – it – was disconnected from its Other. It was desperate to reattach itself to someone – anyone. Me, in that case."

Gillian swerved on the arm of Seabhac's chair to stare down at him. And then she turned to stare at Malachi. Apparently there were a number of things she had missed before being released from Fiona's clutches.

[Seabhac] "It must mean that whatever Dworkin has done to create these Pattern Ghosts allows them to persist for an unknown amount of time after the death of their host. Or, in Malachi’s case, whatever separated them. That leads me to another hypothesis regarding your Bindings, but that can wait until later.”

Joao cocked his head, listening intently. He thought back to what Benedict had mentioned about the Night of Long Knives.

He sipped his drink, and then continued. “The Pattern Ghost bound to Eric predated the Battle of Garnath. That much Rook and I ascertained."

"Wait," Temnal said, confused. "Eric had a Pattern Ghost bound to him?"

Seabhac paused, then rubbed his temple. “Sorry. I meant the Pattern Ghost of Eric bound to Rook. Sometimes you forget which one you’re talking too.”

[Seabhac] "Which makes sense really. The Pattern records – so to speak – the person at the time of a Walk. But here’s the rub. King Eric may not have walked the true Pattern, but he 'walked' its Reflection repeatedly that day. He even bled on it. The Jewel. It’s a Pattern, in of itself. Who’s to say it can’t create its own Ghosts?”

Pattern Ghosts. Jewel Ghosts. Logrus Ghosts. Joao thought. He shuddered.

He let them chew on that for a moment, and then smiled darkly. “So, you have this Ghost born of the Jewel. Probably shaped at the time he uttered his curse. It’d be weaker. And more than likely corrupted by Eric’s blood. It becomes trapped in the Dark Hour, slowly going insane, twisted by guilt and pain. And, knowing Eric, it wouldn't sit around whining. It'd study. It'd learn. And its first point of order would be how to manipulate the Dark Hour’s reflection of the Pattern.”

He nodded to Temnal, “I’ll bet you anything that version of Eric is what your Lady was referring to. An avatar of the Curse itself."

Temnal looked thoughtful. "The Boy," he corroborated. "She called him 'Pharos'."

[Seabhac] "And now it has consumed Eric’s pure Pattern Ghost. Ripped it right out of Rook when he died. Considering the ’weaker’ version probably killed off your predecessors and caused the Night of Long Knives, there’s no telling what it can do now.”

Seabhac sighed, setting his glass down. “That tingling sensation you just felt in your sphincters is the realization of how royally diddled we are.”

"Da" Joao said. "A much greater threat, now." He hoped Binah was awake, listening and attending to Seabhac's words. They needed a plan, and a way to make sure what had to be done was done.

Cole grunted. "Okay. Pretend I fell asleep in history class. What was the Night of Long Knives, again?"

"I would like clarification of that too," Temnal said. He glanced up at Sekhmet with a half-smile. "If that was taught in House Chanicut's history class, I got there too late for it."

Cynwyd listened closely. He had more to say- he still thought they were missing something important. But after his earlier blurting with Fiona, and his loss of control, he held himself tighter than ever. <Listen, and the missing piece will come into play,> he thought.

Gillian cleared her throat.

"The Night of Long Knives occurred twenty years ago, on November 7, 35SA."

Temnal glanced over at Benedict, frowning. The Prince had said the event occurred ten years ago, not twenty. Was this some sort of time anomaly having to do with different flows in different parts of the multiverse?

[Gillian] "Cole, you asked what the Night of Long Knives was, but therein lies the problem: no one really knows. Everyone went to bed as usual, but upon waking found utter chaos and disaster. People were dead or missing, cities and buildings were burning, destruction was everywhere, but no one remembers what...happened..."

She trailed off and blinked. "It's like some weird phenomena having devastating results occurred in a mere instant. Does this sound familiar to anyone?"

Joao let out a held breath. By time and tide...

Temnal sighed. "Far too familiar."

A sudden thought struck her and she jumped off the arm of the chair. "Great Unicorn on a stick, all this talk about the Jewel brought this to mind. Coral, Rusalka's Other, do you know when she was assassinated? The NIGHT OF NOVEMBER 6, 35SA."

She turned to look at Seabhac.

Seabhac flinched, looking down with a heavy nod. “I’ll remember that night for as long as I live.”

Benedict leaned forward, “For clarification, the Night of Long Knives occurred in Amber chronologically ten years ago. However, due to the time distillation of Shadow, the events in Western Eregnor occurred at the same temporal date, 35 SA. Twenty years ago.” He leaned back, “I assure you there is a reason why most historians go mad attempting to document events in the Golden Circle. One must study relativistic physics before even considering the profession. It is not uncommon for history to have been documented before it has even begun.”

"A sacrifice of some sort?" Joao asked the room, softly.

"Or a strike at the Jewel," Temnal guessed. "The ... ghost ... of which Rusalka's Other still possesses. Is that not so?" he asked Joao directly, knowing that Joao had seen Rusalka's Other in the mirror.

"Da" Joao said, turning to nod at Temnal. "As I had said before. Coral's ghost still possesses the ghost of the Jewel of Judgement."

Benedict touched his chin, “Or, perhaps, a morally questionable – yet strategically sound – reason. Sacrificing one’s Queen in preparation for the true End Game. Forgive me, nephew, if I speak clinically. Rest assured, I miss my little sister very much.”

Seabhac offered him a smile of thanks; squeezing Gillian’s hand again.

Benedict finished his glass, and then began to speak in a monotone voice. “Let us conclude that prior to the Night of Long Knives, my Grandfather recognized the Dark Hour’s threat to Amber. He created his defenders; people like you, bound to Pattern Ghosts, who could experience and combat this phenomenon. After an unknown amount of time, their ‘war’ culminated with the final battle against Eric’s corrupted Pattern Ghost. Let us call him ‘Pharos,’ as Ser Temnal mentioned. It would appear they achieved a pyrrhic victory, discorporating Pharos at the cost of their lives.

“But, Grandfather would have been prepared, for this eventuality. Even in his madness, he can predict every possible outcome of any given event. Therefore, he created sleeper agents to be activated once the conditions reached a significant threat. Namely, you gathered here today. The physical Jewel , which likely caused this phenomena, needed to be returned to Amber. Available for your use. As such, my grandfather – consciously or unconsciously – manipulated Probability so that Coral would be assassinated and the Jewel returned to the King’s possession. It would also allow for the Coral’s Pattern Ghost to now be fully accessible – along with the reflection of the Jewel itself.”

Seabhac gave a little ah-ha, “Ah yes. Which may explain something, with regards to what Malachi mentioned. He said he died. What if each of you were murdered or somehow killed on the Night of Long Knives? You certainly wouldn’t remember it. Dworkin stitches you back together with a Pattern Ghost and sends you on your way, never knowing you’re his plaything until he needs you.”

Benedict smiled at this.

Rhea just shuddered, "What the hell is wrong with this Family?"

"Not only citizens of Amber, like Miss Talbot" Joao said. "But citizens of other lands. Rebma. The Golden Circle. And beyond. And to kill us so that not even our families know." Joao shuddered. The thought that he was dead was one still not comfortable.

"But it sounds like lots of people died that night," Cole said. "I still have to wonder--especially since most of us are not from Amber--why we specifically were selected for this dubious honor. Maybe it's not important now, but maybe it is."

"It could be," Temnal ventured, "that at least some of us were ... chosen by our predecessors." He glanced back up at Sekhmet. "Think about when I arrived in the Courts, after aiding the escape of Lord Gaynor's exploration party. I didn't come with them, I was just ... inspired by them. There is certainly a gap in my memory involved with my own escape. I certainly could have died then. And I have always believed that it was my Lady whose hand drew me out of the abyss, that night."

Malachi chose not to address Rhea's question, though it was beginning to occur to him, too. "In fact, I am the only one of us who does remember his death," Malachi said. "It occurred not long ago in the streets of Amber. In a fight with the Man in White and his sister." Malachi shrugged. "Maybe your grandfather felt the team needed a late addition. In any case, it seems to me that if the Dark Hour is a result of King Eric's curse, defeating his shade would be just a precursor to the real and necessary fix. Someone said that these assaults on reality were reflected not only in Amber and the lands around it, but in the mind of your grandfather. Your grandfather and the Jewel are somehow one. I won't pretend to understand that. But if this is all about the Jewel of Judgment somehow, it seems to me that the answer also lies with the Jewel."

Rhea pointed to Malachi, as if he’d just pulled off an amazing trick. “Yes, that’s right. Mother always said that Great Grandfather and the Pattern were one being. And, if the Jewel and the Pattern are one, then whatever ails one ails the other.”

"I've heard it said that Corwin healed his mind by walking on the great Pattern," Malachi said. "Could the Jewel be healed in the same way? And if so, wouldn't that set all the rest of this to rights?"

"Who would dare such a walk, though?" Joao said. "The Pattern is dangerous to walk even without something like the Jewel."

"And to do it in the Dark Hour would be dangerous, da?"

Seabhac hrmed, “Grandfather Corwin mentioned that the Pattern does tend to ‘correct’ things. To reestablish the status quo, as it were. Otherwise, he would never have been able to create the Rose Pattern. It did a lot of the work for him. But, as Joao suggested, there’s a twist to all this. Where is the actual damage causing the Dark Hour? It couldn’t be as simple as walking the Jewel through the Amber Pattern, or this problem would have been fixed long before now. Random has done it more than a few times. So, maybe it’s this dark reflection – the Shadow Pattern – that’s causing all the grief. Or the Shadow Jewel.”

Sekhmet stiffened beside Temnal, as if something had pinched her. Then she shook her head, trying not to look pensive.

"You may be right about the Jewel," Cole said to Malachi, "but I wouldn't assume you're a late addition. For all we know, you were already one of us before those goons killed you, and Bob brought you back again. Otherwise, what caused them to attack you? Do you remember? And did you have any experience of the Dark Hour before that?"

"No, never," said Malachi. "And they attacked as soon as they saw me moving in the Dark Hour. But I don't suppose it matters. Let's talk about the Jewel. Yes, Joao. Very dangerous. And impossible for us but for the Other in our minds. Consider that each of our Others is of the royal blood. Perhaps this is part of the reason we have been partnered with them. Take the Jewel. Walk the Pattern. That is how we stop the Dark Hour, isn't it?" Malachi turned his gaze on Gillian, expectantly.

Gillian gazed back at him levelly. "That the Jewel was returned to Amber implies that its use is necessary to negate the curse, sure. But we're making an assumption that the Jewel needs to be healed, and we're making an assumption that the way to fix everything is to walk the Pattern with the Jewel.

"I would suggest at this point that we really need more information so we can make an informed decision, and I would also suggest the first place to start is to talk to Coral's ghost residing in Rusulka."

"I agree," Temnal said at once. "But I also suspect it will be a lot easier for us to contact her once the Hour starts and we have the full participation of our Others." He was thinking of Brand in particular, but was not going to venture to say so in this company.

Benedict tilted his head, “Of course, there is the small issue that no one knows of her current whereabouts. And, I assure you, there are a great many people looking. That she has not been located in Creation is most peculiar.”

Rhea chimed, “Unless she’s not in Creation.” She paused, looking shyly at all the staring faces. “What?”

"No, Lady Rhea," Malachi said. "That may be very wise." Turning to his companions, he asked "Could she be in this place 'beneath creation' we have heard of a few times? Can a human survive there?"

"Something else occurs to me," Malachi continued. "Prince Seabhac mentioned 'the Amber Pattern'. I wasn't aware there was more than one." He thought for a moment. "I guess that's not true. I remember that Prince Corwin visited Patterns in Rebma and Tir na nogth. Where is the 'Shadow Pattern'? Is it more than just a theory? Anyway, here is what occurred to me. For a shadow to exist, two other things must also exist. The object that casts the shadow and a source of light. If Amber's Pattern is the object, is there something casting the light?"

Ginger quirked her head, “Wow. He’s smarter than he looks.” She began licking her paws.

The corners of Malachi's mouth turned up in a wry small smile at this.

"If I understand things correctly, there's a primal pattern beneath the patterns in Amber and Rebma and Tir. I wonder if anyone has visited it lately to take a look at it?" Gillian ventured a glance at Benedict.

"There is?" Joao said in surprise.

Seabhac chuckled, patting Gillian’s hand. “Uh, Gilly, it’s not like popping down to the wine cellar. The Primal Pattern doesn’t exist in a physical location. Not truly. And the last person that went to the Primal Pattern was Oberon. And he died while fixing it. Or trying to.”

Benedict nodded, “Indeed. However, it may be accessible through the Unicorn, the Jewel, or Dworkin, himself. All three pose their own difficulties.”

Gillian frowned a tiny bit at Seabhac. She didn't like it when people were patronizing to her. <Cybele, do you have any ideas how to get to the Primal Pattern?>

Cybele clucked her tongue. <Of course, I do. I required it during the creation of the True Trumps. But your boyfriend isn’t being facetious. The effort is decidedly dangerous. The Guardian alone is enough to give most of us pause. I shudder to consider what transformation it would undergo in the Dark Hour.>

<Guardian? Care to elaborate on that?>

She sighed softly. <We would need to venture very deep into Amber Castle. And find my Grandfather’s hidden places. They shift and change, for like the Pattern itself, they are part of him. And his madness. If you decide to go, I can find it again.>

<If we left now? Yes, I suspect so. The time distillation may also provide us a little more leeway. You’ll want to make sure your Chaosian companions remain outside, though. Unless you need a tallow candle to light the way.> Cybele chuckled at that.

<Hmmm.> Cybele could feel a rising excitement in the girl. <If we went ourselves, would we be able to open a trump gate to the library for the others? Or do we need to take them with us?>

Cybele considered this. <I do not see why not. The Trumps have a natural protection against the Pattern. The Gate should not cause any interference or interaction with the Pattern energies. Nor should the Pattern block a Trump contact out. Indeed, it would be an expedient method of transporting people to the chamber. Once you are there, of course.>

Gillian smiled. <Of course.> It was apparent from the girl's thoughts that she wanted the opportunity to see the Primal Pattern first, before anyone else could come in and discover something before she did.

"We talked at one time not too long ago about rescuing Rusalka during the Dark Hour and hiding her in a place where King Rinaldo couldn't find her," Gillian continued. "Unfortunately, when the Dark Hour came we got sidetracked. Perhaps it's time to revisit the plan?"

"We need the Ghost Jewel, and we need Rusalka, da." Joao said. A thought came to him, and he smiled briefly before continuing. "Now that we are awake, we may the ones best suited to finding her, General Benedict."

Benedict nodded, “As my brother Cynwyd explained to me, yes. It is why you shall every resource you require.”

Cole's mind boggled at the reference to Cynwyd--and logically, to himself--as Benedict's brother.

Malachi recalls a time not so long ago when he was eager to seek out Rusalka immediately. He does not mention it. "Two things we must accomplish then," he says. "Rescue Rusalka and scout out the original Pattern. The Pattern would be a in a very secure place, I assume? Perhaps that would be a place where King Rinaldo cannot find Rusalka? I suggest we reconnoiter this 'Primal' Pattern first, then."

Malachi felt Mirelle stirring in his thoughts, as if struggling to grasp a memory. She gave a soft gasp of realization. <Not long ago, Rusalka and the Sand-bounded girl both disappeared from Grandfather’s temporal senses. He appeared very disturbed by this. If they were close to the Pattern, he would have known it. They must be elsewhere and likely together, Malachi.

<As for the Primal Pattern. . . I know the way.> She gave a mental shudder.

Malachi heard the fear in her voice, but did not address it. <So they can't be there. They're in this place below the shadows, I think. I thought we might scout the Primal Pattern to ensure it is a safe place to bring her when we find Rusalka. Why was Bob watching the other girl?>

Mirelle considering this. <I believe it is Sand’s connection with her. My elder sister, no unlike Cybele, possessed an affinity for the Trumps. But unlike Cybele, her connection was far more ethereal. I believe she somehow attuned her Trumps to Tir-Na Nog’th – the Ghost City. The Land of Dreams. Limbo.>

She paused. <Maybe that’s it? I wonder if she went there?>

<Not below, but above,> thought Malachi.

"We talked of rescuing Rusalka before, and face the same obstacles- though perhaps with some help, in this instance we can get around them," Cynwyd said. "Believe me, I am happy that our path seems to lead to rescuing her- and I wanted to do so before. But as we have no idea where she is, and haven't been able to come up with anything solid, and the fact that there is impeding war in the Golden Circle that our assault on a sovereign entity there could precipitate into open conflict- I just don't want to make the same mistake that we just made in our ignorance," he said solemnly.

"Is there any way to get more solid information that might make this attempted rescue anything other than folly?"

Rhea chimed in, “Couldn’t someone just walk the Pattern and then jump to wherever she is? Dad said you can do that.”

"Oh?" Gillian mumbled, mostly to herself. "That could come in handy." She filed it away in her mental Pattern Tricks Toolbox.

"And there's one other thing that no one has considered in the case of Prince Eric's pattern ghost- are we sure that we're only dealing with two factions? Just because two different groups of people want to kill us, that doesn't mean that they're working together." He looked towards Seabhac. "Malachi asked a question that you were distracted from answering- can you describe the young man that killed Prince Rook? And the people that were with him?"

Seabhac straightened up, but his face appeared drawn, taunt. “Oh yes.

 I doubt I’ll ever forget that face.  Raven-haired, pale skin.  Around

ten years old, I think. Looked like he’d missed more than a few meals. Until he ate Rook’s heart, that is. Then he looked positively glowing."

Temnal winced, just visibly.

"No!" Malachi's knuckles whitened and his jaw clenched. In the corner, his huge wolf Radolf stood, fur bristling at his master's angry shout.

[Seabhac] “The others? I think one was Anthony, but I can’t be sure. His face had seen better days. But that’s why I knew they were Strega. The crazy chick was there. And another green-skinned woman – Rebman most likely."

"Anthony was unsatisfactorily just barely alive when I saw him last," Cole confirmed. "He and Crazy Chick vanished just before we blew up."

Joao pricked up at the mention of a Rebman and looked at Seabhac with obvious curiosity in his eyes. He didn't interrupt as Seabhac continued to speak.

"I never saw Suhuy, though. But I’m pretty sure he was nearby. I could smell his cancer, even over the usual entropic stink.”

"He ate Rook's heart?" Cynwyd said, sitting up, startled. "Fsck me like a goat!"

Seabhac reached for his wine glass again, finding it filled somehow. “Yeah. Not high on my cherished memories list.”

"I hope I'm wrong... oh gods I hope I'm wrong," he continued shaking his head in disbelief. "Maybe they weren't releasing Eric's pattern ghost, as much as binding it. I mean, he killed Malachi too- but he didn't eat.his.heart. That's like a symbolic seat of power, especially for necromantic rituals."

<What do you think that would that do?> Joao asked Binah. <Eating Eric's heart, that is.>

A low, hungry growl. <Blood Magick. It is, as the half-breed says. A binding ritual. As the Shadows consume one another to gain strength, so to can one take the blood of another to gain their power.

 There has been a vast evil stalking the Prison.  The Jailor Who Fell.
 It once promised us freedom.  The release of Oblivion.  But its

presence has not been felt for many, many years. Perhaps it has returned. And with it, the Nyx. And salvation.>

"What?" [Cynwyd] asked. "Yes, I paid some attention in magical theory. But someone, please tell me I'm being too paranoid," he said, looking especially to Gillian.

"Um, no, I don't think you are," she replied in a small voice, her face paler than usual. "If anything, perhaps not paranoid enough."

"Not at all," Temnal agreed somberly. "If the boy -- Pharos -- is what I was told he is, a fragment of Eric to begin with, then assimilating Eric's Pattern Ghost could only make him more ... whatever he is."

"Da, things are more complicated than we imagined." Joao said. "While we have slept, things have not stayed still."

Very slowly, Malachi unclenched his fists and signaled Radolf to sit. "Enough talk. We will find Rusalka and these creatures will come to us. I will be waiting, and I will make them pay for this."

The wolf gave a faint chuff and did so. Bored with the human conversation, he resumed his observation of the furry snack in Joao’s lap. He licked his chops, whining.

He looked up at his companions. "If the Pattern can take us to Rusalka, we need to go there. Now."

"I agree we need to find Rusalka, but I suspect Trump will be better than Pattern for doing that," said Temnal, "mostly because bringing her to us is likely to be safer than the reverse. Especially since, if I recall correctly, only one person can walk a Pattern at a time. Whereas if we use Trump, we can team up." He glanced over at Gillian, his eyebrows cocked interrogatively.

"What do we suppose would happen if one of us walked the Pattern anyway?" Cole wondered aloud.

Seabhac said, “Outside the Dark Hour? We’d roast marshmallows over your glowing ashes, I should think. Even Family have died on that thing. Walking it is not easy under normal circumstances.”

Mirelle shuddered deep within Malachi. A faint memory of pain and helplessness intruding at the corners of his consciousness. Even that brief touch was terrifying.

Benedict nodded, “I agree. I would suggest you wait until your Others are at their full potential before risking an excursion onto the Pattern. That is, if the Pattern exists in the Dark Hour?”

"Trump, Pattern, I don't care," Malachi said, impatient of details. "But let us do it now. Do not wait for the iron to be hot before striking. Make the iron hot by striking quickly."

"I want to get Rusalka back, just as much as you do. But I don't want to cause any more deaths that can be avoided by doing so," Cywnyd said levelly, looking at Malachi. "Those people that will fight in any war that we precipitate are no less important that Rusalka. They live, the breathe, they love, they suffer, and they die."

"If they must be sacrificed, then that is one thing. But I, for one, don't want any more unnecessary blood on my hands. And going in without a plan, without details, without even the basic knowledge of where she's being held or what we're going into is not very smart, especially considering the tensions in the Golden Circle right now."

"Not to mention that until the Dark Hour, when we can call on the full abilities of our Others, we're not in the best shape to tackle either one," Temnal pointed out, rubbing thoughtfully at the place his fingertips used to be.

"And how will you learn such knowledge?" asked Malachi, his voice calm, his hands studiously unclenched. "Unless you know where she is, someone must go there to learn that basic knowledge. We cannot wait for everything to be perfect. If we do, our enemy will overwhelm us before we are half begun. He cannot be expecting us. We have been quiet for two months. Strike now," he waves a hand at Temnal, conceding the other's point "or no later than tonight, as soon as possible."

"All right. The Hour approaches. What do we know about the situation?" Gillian nodded at Temnal. "Can you tell us again what happened when you tried to contact Rusalka last? When you hurt yourself?"

"I tried it during the day," Temnal said, "and the effort needed was tremendous. I did contact Rusalka, but she seemed disoriented and woozy -- I suspect King Rinaldo had drugged her. I assume he was also the one who set the trump trap. If my Other hadn't warned me to pull back, I probably would have lost the whole hand. But I don't think Rinaldo has her anymore," he added. "Otherwise, why would he be making accusations and looking for her elsewhere?"

[continued in A Gathering Storm II]