Though I am not in physical contact with him, I know Corwin's pain is great. The shock of loss hits me harder because of this. Deirdre dragged into the abyss by Brand in that crazed moment will remain imprinted on my memory forever.
Dara holds Corwin now and I am relieved. He needs comfort. I feel at a lost, unsure what I can do to help him, to help us all. The jewel falls with Brand into the beginning of time and there is nothing I can do. I hear voices, the family gathering around me, and the air is heavy with exhaustion and despondence. The tears in my eyes threaten to fall as Random speaks, and the tone of his words expresses my own helplessness.
Then Julian and Roland exchange words. Do they speak of the Jewel? Or of something that occurred between them? Roland comes to the edge of the Abyss once more and stares out at its impenetrable nothingness. Then Dara stands. But I see she is reluctant to leave Corwin so close to that darkness and I move forward to kneel next to him, reaching out to hold his shoulder and offer what comfort I can. So close to him I cannot hold back the tears any longer. I turn my head to the Abyss and finally they fall. I do not care that Roland sees them. He is calling for Benedict and I feel a strange, childish need to see my father, to be in his assured presence.
My hand brushes against his neck I feel Corwin's depression seeping into me as the chill from his skin penetrates my own. I sense he has considered throwing himself into the Abyss, but now feels it is futile. He is exhausted, drained and his body suffering from the loss of the Jewel and its sustaining energy. As I feel him become gradually aware of his surroundings and of me, a movement catches my eye and I glance up to see Dara looking at me. Her expression is grateful, and I try to smile reassurance, but I feel none and my face refuses to lie to her. She moves towards the edge of the cliff and looks out across the Abyss to the citadel. I follow her gaze, but the optical effect sickens me, forcing me to close my eyes to its dizzying lights and constantly blurring and shifting walls.
I am tired. We are all exerted beyond our limits. Still, I try to feel the Jewel's presence, opening my mind towards the Abyss, tentatively, uncertain of what I might discover out there. Fiona's Pattern is startlingly clear and as she comes to kneel next to me and focuses her power on Corwin, everything sharpens, the air becomes pure and clean, the land is no longer disorientating. I do not understand what my aunt is doing, but I am glad that she helps Corwin. I close my eyes and reach out into the nothingness beyond the cliff. If I can find the Jewel and retrieve it, we may have a chance at survival. It is a tenuous hope, but I cling to it.
At first, there is movement that I assume to be the armies of Chaos moving too and from the Citadel. Then my mind passes beyond them and into an absence of everything – a void. My mind struggles to comprehend the sensation as I push deeper, further in. I search. Time passes but I have no reference point to say how long. Suddenly, something tugs at my awareness. Could it be the Jewel? A spark of hope drives me on and I block everything else from my mind. The tugging is stronger and more insistent and I almost have it, I am almost upon it....
Screams. Hundreds, thousands of people screaming in agony and despair. Their pain and suffering is tangible, ripping into my very being. The thunderous cacophony fills my mind. A vile presence grips the strands of my sanity and reels me in. This is not the Jewel – it madness alive within the darkness. I cannot withdraw! Overwhelmed, I try to force it from my mind, but I am losing.
Then it is only my voice screaming in my mind, the other horrors drowned out. I am surrounded by a cool breeze and lilting, calming music. The darkness fades. I fall silent and I realise it is not music but whispered words of comfort from a presence close by.
"They are lost, do not venture there. Stay with us, here. Down there is only chaos and madness." It is Fiona speaking softly. I open my eyes and see she holds my shoulder. Wrapped about me is the Pattern and the word is ordered once more. My hands ache; I look down at them and see blood where my nails have dug deep into my palms. I taste salt. Lifting a trembling hand to my face I realise my skin is soaked with tears. My eyes focus on Corwin and know the depth of his sadness as he looks at me.
"I tried," he says. "I failed."
I shake my head, "No..." It is a whisper that dies quickly in the icy air.
My eyes flick to Dara as she starts to weave her hands, black threads forming from her fingers, drawn together from Shadow itself and tugged gently into a form she requires but for what, I do not know. I cannot sense any power I recognise in her workings, it is not Pattern or Blood Magic – it just seems to be happening with no effort other than the physical movements of her hands. Of course, I am intrigued and start to bring up a Pattern lens to better see what she is doing.
As Roland speaks my head turns slightly in his direction, but my focus is on my Lens. He hands Fiona something to help Corwin, but I do not wish to divert my attention from Dara and her creation to try to figure out what it is. I do hear Corwin speak, however, telling Roland to leave me, and my attention drifts to my uncle for a moment, my hand reaching out to squeeze his arm affectionately. He is getting stronger and I am relieved.
During the brief moment of distraction, I miss some of what Dara is doing, but I do not think I would understand anyway. My eyes remain on Corwin, but unfocused, as my attention passes more fully to my Pattern Lens. I observe Dara's manipulations of Shadow, but need more time to study it. The Shadows here are so different from those around Amber, I find it difficult to comprehend how she is interacting with them. Then, before I can gain any more useful information, she is finished and releases an oily black ribbon that drifts towards the Citadel.
I wonder, is it a form of communication?
I guess the black thread really was some kind of communication, but the arrival of the dark haired young man distracts me from contemplating the phenomenon further.
When Dara introduces him to Corwin, my lips part in surprise and then, as Corwin gets unsteadily to his feet to greet his son, I feel a hesitant pleasure. At last they meet – it is only a shame the circumstances are not more pleasant and relaxing. Will they get along? For just a moment, I fear Corwin may fall and my hands twitch reflexively as he sways, but he catches his balance quickly and embraces his son. He asks Merlin to drink with him and they sit together, sharing a glass of watered wine.
I want to give them time alone and move away when Roland and Fiona do so. Even if it is short lived, my uncle deserves this moment of happiness after all he has been through over the years, and I feel a faint smile touches my lips for the first time all day.
Keeping my back to the storm that devours our last precious moments, I look out into the darkness but do not see it. My eyes start to shut and I wrap my arms around my legs, hugging my knees to my chest, content to listen to Corwin's soothing voice as he tells a tale of wonder and anguish woven together into a rich tapestry of life and experience. If only we had more time to savour such moments as these. With just a slight moment of my head, I can see them together. I wonder what Merlin is like. He seems polite, is as handsome as his father, and appears comfortable in our company. I sigh out a soft breath of sadness and some regret.
Debating what can be done, my family discuss the situation and our options. Perhaps Merlin is right and Amber still stands. I feel distracted as they continue to talk; a burning sensation rises from within me and spreads throughout my body. Suddenly I am exhausted and boiling inside. My breathing quickens. Something is coming. I stare out at the Abyss my fear growing, but it is not the same sensation as before... no, this is like.... it is like my first step on the Pattern so many years ago. I want to reach out with my mind, but terror reigns in my curiosity – the Abyss tricked me last time and only Fiona's quick response pulled me back from the brink of madness. I dare not risk such a thing again. The feeling inside intensifies. It is close now. I gasp and try to rise, but stumbling in my haste, I have to scrabble backwards on hands and knees.
"Something is coming!" I cry out but do not turn to see if anyone notices. I frown in concentration as I watch the darkness, waiting to see what will emerge.
My father is before me in an instant with his sword drawn. I only have time to draw another breath before a vision rises out of the Abyss and the air is trapped within my lungs, my body stilled.
The Unicorn. This is what I felt coming. I exhale slowly and rise to my feet as She approaches. The burning sensation inside intensifies as I watch her strange form. She is unlike any creature I have ever known, appearing as many forms merged into one, each phasing into and out of the whole as she moves. My eyes struggle to make sense of her being. My vision blurs and I feel overwhelmed by a power like nothing I have sense before. A power greater even than the Pattern.
The ground beneath her hoofs solidifies then returns to normal, and as she walks across the rocky ledge, she looks right at me. For an instant, I hold eye contact with her. Those eyes bore into me. I am defenceless as my past pains, and sorrows, joys and happiness are revealed. I see myself in her, as I am, as I was and a glimpse of something I think maybe my future. There is a depth to her not found in any other living creature. Then it is gone, the vision vanishing as if it never existed, and all before I could understand what I was seeing. The Unicorn walks past. I yearn for her contact and want to reach out but my body does not respond and the heat inside diminishes, smouldering now as she walks to the centre of the gathering.
Then she dips her head, my heart pounds against my ribs, my eyes water and hope flares. The Jewel hangs from her horn and then slides off to rest upon the ground. A whispered 'thank you' is lost to the wind and if I could, I would look up to see who it was. Suddenly She bolts and the spell is broken. Filled with loss, coldness washes over me. I sigh. Pain or pleasure shiver through my body, I am not sure which.
My father moves forward and picks up the Jewel. I'm still reeling from the Unicorn's unexpected presence that I almost miss his smile, and regret that I have barely a moment to wonder such an occurrence when Corwin and Fiona's discussion distracts me.
The strength and assurance in Corwin's words lifts me as he wishes it not to end here. Desperately I try to gather my thoughts, my mind and body still reeling from the Unicorn's unexpected presence and sudden departure.
I am worried. Can my uncle hold back the storm? I want to go to him and offer whatever help I can; only I hold back as my father continues to speak. Benedict offers Corwin the Jewel, suggests he take the throne as Oberon desired and I feel a surge of pleasure, with more than a little pride mixed in. My uncle has been through so much to reach this point and suffered greatly, and my heart aches as I recall his story – part told to me in a Shadow far from where we now stand, and the whole tale related to Merlin only moments ago.
I nod so faintly as father blames our recent family loss on the futile war for the crown that I doubt anyone sees the motion. And I wonder what passes through Bleys' mind when he reconsiders. It is good that he questions the important decisions being made but I am glad that he finally acquiesces to Corwin taking the throne and the Jewel. If Oberon still lives – and I doubt that he does – the issues of Kingship can then be resolved, but for now, we need unity or we will not survive the coming storm.
Corwin accepts the Jewel from Benedict and seems to draw strength from it, but it is not enough. I can see it in his eyes even as he admits it openly to all gathered – the storm is too powerful now for him to defeat it. Perhaps grandfather had foreseen some of what was to come, for Dara then offers her aid, saying Oberon taught her how to use it and I am pleased that Oberon prepared for every eventuality. My hopes rise, which alleviates the sudden sting of anger that he would put his son through such an ordeal, one he clearly feared Corwin might not survive. But Corwin did make it. And now Dara can help him fight the storm.
I trust his judgement as he takes Dara as his wife and Queen, even as Random argues against believing she is sincere after her fervent promise on the Pattern that Amber would fall. Corwin and Benedict assuage their younger brother's concerns, however, and I silently rejoice when Corwin embraces Dara. Although I have to admit a small part of me is saddened that I could not bring him the same happiness and love that their kiss hints at.
They part, and my father kneels to pledge his allegiance to the new Kind and Queen of Amber. I step forward and join Benedict and, placing my hand on the Jewel, I repeat his words with reverence.
As I finish my declaration, my hand lingers on the Jewel. I am reluctant to let it go. I feel the immense, cold depth of its power, a momentary flash into the complexity of life itself. At its centre is a Pattern so powerful that the one in Amber pales in comparison. Even as I look upon its beauty I feel it reach out to me and for a moment, I glimpse depths beyond the Pattern within. My hand drops away and the insight is gone. I clench my jaw against another sharp loss, first the Unicorn and now this, but now is not the time to learn of its hidden wonders for the rest of my family and the nobles gathered step forward one by one to swear their loyalty.
Looking up, I see Corwin; I see he is almost restored by the ceremony. Getting slowly to my feet as he thanks everyone, I then watch him move away with Dara to a sheltered area where I know he will attune her to the Jewel. I must observe this process! Moving away I find a place where I can still see them, I sit down and hold my legs close to my chest for warmth, relaxing myself so I may bring up a Pattern lens.
As I wait for them to start, I listen to some of the conversations around. I am pleased that everyone supports Corwin. He will be an excellent King.
The sounds of the approaching storm grow louder and I tense. I glance into its chaotic depths but have to look away quickly, dizzy and sickened, my body unable to cope with the barrage of sensory input. Returning my focus to Corwin and Dara, I hope fervently that Dara's atunement to the Jewel is quick, in spite of my intense desire to understand the process; there is not much time before the storm reaches our position.
My eyes stare at the ground, but through my Pattern lens I can see faint connection lines running from the Jewel to everyone gathered, with the one to Corwin the strongest by far. He seems to be drawing massive amounts of energy from it. As I watch in fascination, Dara cuts her hand and bleeds onto the Jewel. It seems to be a spell of sorts but I can't make out the mechanics of it, certainly it is some form of Blood magic.
I continue to study the process and notice her connection to the Jewel strengthens perceptibly. There is a sudden surge of Pattern energy that flows between her and Corwin for a short while and whether due to this, the Blood magic she employs, or a combination of both, Dara's link to the Jewel then solidifies, though it is still no where near as strong as the one to Corwin. With the task done, they emerge from their temporary retreat and approach the group again.
The Jewel hanging from Corwin's neck bathes him in a regal red glow, but it pulses as a heart beat. This is not a good sigh. I recall him telling of Eric's experiences and how it had drained his brother's endurance and weakened him to such a degree that a cut, which should not have killed, proved to be fatal. I fear for Corwin. But I see him standing before us all, bearing himself with some of his confidence of old, exuding the presence I remember so well and I cannot help but feel happy. He is not fully recovered from the recent emotionally and physically shattering events, but he is sure of himself once more and I am pleased, relieved as well for we need a strong leader. As he speaks to Benedict, my hopes rise further. I hear the authority and majesty in his voice and I know he and Dara will succeed, that they will turn aside the Storm and protect us. The Jewel may drain him, but what choice do we have? If he does nothing, we will all die anyway. I keep silent. When the battle is over, I will tend him and so will the others medically trained. He is strong, his endurance high, and I believe in his ability to do this.
Despite my concerns for Corwin, a tingle of excitement runs through me at the thought of seeing the power of the Jewel. I hold my Pattern lens, waiting for them to begin the formidable fight with the Storm, and pay scant attention to the flurry of activity that follows Benedict's orders to move the troops closer to our rock. Bleys hurries off to his soldiers. Silently I hope he returns quickly, my thoughts echoing Dara's words. I do not want any of my family caught away from the small hub of safety on the ledge.
Then I cannot spare any attention to the others for I detect Corwin and Dara beginning to use the Jewel. I focus solely on them. If Corwin starts to weaken, I will give whatever help I can to him to keep his strength up.
My attention never wavers as I watched in awe their efforts with the Jewel of Judgement. The difference in their approach is fascinating. I see Dara carefully folding Shadow around us, delicate and gentle in her approach, whereas Corwin forces his will upon Shadow, ripping power from the Jewel and, even in his weakened state, he shapes the Universe how he wants it, his approach crass and brutal. Despite the different methods, the result is the same – all around us forms a shell of order made from the very fabric of Shadow. It is a dome of protection over our rock, encompassing the troops gathered at its foot.
Suddenly violent tremors shudder through the ground. Corwin's knees start to buckle. I jump to my feet, struggling for a moment to keep my balance. As I start to move forward to help Corwin though, I hesitate, watching as Dara wraps an arm around his waist. She holds him steady, keeping him upright and whispers to him. Whatever she says I cannot make out over the noise of the Storm, but it serves to strengthen my uncle and he exerts his control over our environment once more, stilling the shaking rock beneath my feet.
Now the Storm surges past on either side. We are as an island of calm in the rapids of a river. Voices cry out in a confusing and terrifying cacophony of noise. Whole worlds whirl by, torn up by the fury of the storm, people and animals, buildings, forests, seas and skies whipped apart and blended into a tumultuous display of colour. I clench my hands by my side and focus on Corwin and Dara and how they are holding together the Shadows that form our shield, rather than the disorientating destruction playing out so near.
Then it is over, the Storm is past, gone into the endless darkness of the Abyss.
The King and Queen collapse to the ground.
I hurry to Corwin's side and kneel down next to him. Looking over to Dara it is clear that both she and Corwin are exhausted, but I am concerned how bad their condition truly is after such an exertion. Even before using the Jewel, Corwin was weak and I turn my attention to him first. I reach out to hold a trembling hand to his cheek and hold my breath as I focus my Pattern lens on him.
Corwin is conscious, but only just and he is so weak I do not think he could stand unaided. I unclasp my cloak and roll it. Gently I slip an arm under Corwin's head and shoulders and lift him enough so I can place the makeshift pillow beneath, then ease him down onto it. Despite my concern for him, I cannot help my fascination for the connection between him and Shadow. It is so strong that with every breath he takes, Shadow alters itself subtly. He is also drawing immense amounts of power from the Jewel, which seems to offer an endless supply of energy. I do not think this is a good thing and my worry reasserts itself. I try to judge his state of mind, and perhaps the Jewel is blocking my observation for I sense only that Amber is foremost in his thoughts. His emotions are as difficult to read, though I do sense that he cares for Dara.
Looking at her, Dara does not seem quite as drained and I know she will recover. Her connection is not as strong as Corwin's is to Shadow. She sits up and smiles at me then, the gesture almost motherly and I feel her maternal affection towards me. I also sense her love for Corwin. I smile softly.
"Thank you," she whispers.
For a moment, her voice sounds so like my mother that my eyes go wide with surprise. I see my mother's features in her face. Then I blink and it is gone, she is Dara once more. Had I imagined it? This place distorts my perception of reality, it affects my mind, and after witnessing the Storm passing so close by, to experience such a vision is not inconceivable. And yet it seemed so real! I open my mouth, but do not know what to say.
She continues speaking and appears not to have noticed my reaction. "Is everyone alright?" She asks.
"I, I do not know…" My attention had been on the Storm and the Jewel, not on those gathered. I glance around to see who might be missing. From where I am kneeling, it is difficult to see everyone and I am reluctant to leave Corwin's side. I look down on him again.
Something is different. There is a strange energy about him. It is the Jewel and it is doing something to him but I can't make out exactly what. He seems to realise this at the same time as I do for he takes hold of the Jewel, pulls it over his head and gives it to Dara. Immediately, he sinks back, weakened even further without the Jewel to sustain him. His breathing quickens and the energy fades from around his body, but does not disappear entirely.
"Amber…" he whispers.
Dare I hope Amber still exists? Can he feel it through his connection to Shadow? I lean closer to him. "Corwin," I say softly. "Did Amber survive the Storm?"
My relief is strong when Merlin says Martin survived the storm and I hope Bleys is as lucky – though I am sure he is fine. When they all start talking of the Trumps working again, I squeeze Corwin's hand gently. I don't bother to check mine; I know they will be the same as the others. Something bothers me about Merlin, however. He seems preoccupied and I wonder if he is in contact with someone, but before I can assess him further, Fiona distracts me. She says the path to Amber has been hardened, but what does she mean? Is it a reference to the Black Road Corwin inadvertently helped to create when he pronounced his blood curse?
Yet again, another commotion diverts me from my line of thinking, this time it is Cain jumping up onto a boulder to announce that Amber still stands. Despite a sudden surge of happiness, I can't help fearing what damage has been done to Her. Corwin, Dara and Fiona all look thoughtful, sombre despite Cain's obvious joy and my tentative smile turns grim when he talks of Storms beating against Amber. Only Corwin and Dara can save the true city by using the Jewel, but as I look down on my uncle, see his pain and exhaustion, I know it will bring him closer to death. If only I could do more to help him!
I hold back my tears of frustration, peripherally aware of dad preparing to send the troops to Amber using Gerard's Trump. While all this activity happens around me, Lord Rein hobbles up to Corwin, bowing his head before swearing his allegiance. I move slightly to give him access to the King, while still keeping a comforting hand on Corwin's arm.
Lord Rein's leg is ruined, and I feel a flicker of sorrow from Corwin through our contact. I watch Rein move away to let the remaining Nobles declare their fealty, and wonder what he is like – I sense he is a good man. Perhaps one day we will have time to speak and know each other better.
When the ceremony is over, Corwin tenses his body, trying to rise, and I slip my arms around his shoulders to help him into a seated position.
"Lean on me," I whisper. "I wish I could give you more than this, but please take what I can offer, and if you know how to take more, then do so." I duck my head under his arm and wrap my other around his waist before he can refuse my aid. I get to my feet, pulling him with me.
Corwin's breathing is shallow and I have to strain to hear him speak.
"Akira, mon chéri…" he whispers. "Votre présence seule est assez pour m'aider." His arm tightens briefly around my shoulders and I try to smile, but my pleasure at his words is dampened by my concern for his evident weakness. I am at a loss as to what to say and can only hold his gaze, hoping he will understand how I feel – he is everything to me.
Dara takes his other arm and asks if he is ready, tenderly brushing her fingers across his cheek when he replies he is as ready as he will ever be. With both of us caring for him, I know he will have the strength to succeed. He will save Amber. He will be okay.
I cling to that belief as Dara starts to open a Trump contact, the rainbow shimmering around her, but before the contact solidifies, Fiona places a hand on my shoulder. Dara pauses to listen to my aunt. Even as the connection strengthens, I can't quite make out who is at the other end.
"Good luck to you both," Fiona says with sincerity to her brother and Dara. She waits a moment after they nod their thanks, watching as Dara sends Corwin to Amber, then she turns me slightly to face her. She looks more serious than I think I have ever seen her and suddenly I am nervous.
"You did good, Aki," her voice is quiet, so only I can hear, "but for you this is only the beginning. You are now bound to the Crown - Corwin will need you." She pauses for a second, "I'll return with Benedict after I tie up a few loose ends here." She rises onto her toes and kisses my forehead. "I'll see you soon." Her last words seem almost hollow, as if she is reassuring herself rather than me.
"Don't go-" but before I can say any more, she heads away, down the slope towards where Benedict is organising the next group of soldiers for transit home.
The finality of her words terrifies me. She has been like a mother to me for most of my life and now I feel as if she just said goodbye, but it cannot be so; she will return to Amber when the job here is finished. I turn dumbly to Dara and clasp her outstretched hand. Corwin needs me.