Knight of Shadows

Chapter 4

Recovering.

My head ached, and there was dirt in my mouth. I was sprawled face down. Memory made its way home through the traffic, and I opened my eyes. Still black and white and gray all about. I spit sand, rubbed my eyes, blinked. The Logrus Sign was not present, and I could not account for my recent experience with it.

I sat up and hugged my knees. I seemed to be stranded, all of my extramundane means of travel and communication blocked. I couldn’t think of anything to do other than get up, pick a direction, and start walking.

I shuddered. Where would that take me? Just through more of the same — more of this monotonous landscape?

There came a soft sound, as of a throat being gently cleared.

I was on my feet in an instant, having inspected every direction on the way up.

Who’s there? I inquired, having given up on articulation.

I seemed to hear it again, very near at hand.

Then, I’ve a message for you, something seemed to say within my head.

What? Where are you? Message? I tried asking.

Excuse me, came the muffled voice, but I’m new at this business. To take things in order, I am where I’ve always been — on your wrist — and when the Logrus blasted through here, it enhanced me additionally, so that I could deliver the message.

Frakir?

Yes, My first enhancement, that day you bore me through the Logrus, involved sensitivity to danger, mobility, combat reflexes, and a limited sentience. This time the Logrus added direct mental communication and expanded my awareness to the point where I could deliver messages.

Why?

It was in a hurry, could stay in this place for only an instant, and this was the only way for it to let you know what is going on.

I didn’t realize the Logrus was sentient.

Something like a chuckle followed.

Then, It is hard to classify an intelligence of that order, and I suppose it doesn’t really have much to say most of the time, came Frakir’s reply. Its energies are mainly expended in other areas.

Well, why did it come through here and blitz me?

Unintentional. It was a by-product of my enhancement, once it saw that I was the only means of reaching you with more than a few words or images.

Why was its time here so limited? I asked.

It is the nature of this land, which lies between the shadows, that it be mainly inaccessible both to the Pattern and the Logrus.

A sort of demilitarized zone?

No, it is not a matter of truce. It is simply that it is extremely difficult for either of them to manifest here at all. This is why the place is pretty much unchanging.

This is a place they can’t reach?

That’s about the size of it.

How come I never heard of it before?

Probably because no one else can reach it too readily either.

So what’s the message?

Basically, that you not try calling upon the Logrus again while you’re here. The place represents such a distorting medium that there’s no assurance how any projected energy might manifest outside some convenient vessel. It could be dangerous for you.

I massaged my throbbing temples. At least it got my mind off my sore jaw.

All right, I agreed. Any hints as to what I’m supposed to be doing here?

Yes, this is a trial. Of what, I can’t say.

Do I have a choice?

What do you mean?

May I refuse to participate?

I suppose. But then I don’t know how you get out of here.

So I do get released from this place at the end, if I play?

If you’re still living, yes. Even if you’re not, I’d imagine.

Then I really have no choice.

There will be a choice.

When?

Somewhere along the way. I don’t know where.

Why don’t you just repeat all of your instructions to me?

Can’t. I don’t know what all is here. It will surface only in response to a question or a situation.

Will any of this interfere with your strangling function?

It shouldn’t.

That’s something, anyway. Very well. Have you any idea what I’m supposed to do next?

Yes. You should begin climbing the highest hill to your left.

Which — Okay, I guess that’s the one, I decided, my gaze settling upon a broken fang of blazing white stone.

And so I walked toward it, up a gradually steepening slope. The black sun mounted higher into the grayness. The eerie silence continued.

Uh, do you know exactly what we will find whenever we get to wherever we’re going? I tried to say in Frakir’s direction.

I am certain that the information is present, came the reply, but I do not believe that it will be available until we reach the appropriate locale.

I hope you’re right.

Me, too.

The way continued to steepen. While I had no way to measure the time exactly, it seemed that more than an hour passed before I left the foothills and was climbing the white mountain itself. While I observed no footprints nor saw any other sign of life, I did, on several occasions, encounter long stretches of natural-seeming trail, shelflike, leading up that high bleached face. Several more hours must have passed as I negotiated this, the dark sun riding to mid-heaven and beginning its descent toward a west that lay beyond this peak. It was annoying not to be able to curse aloud.

How can I be sure we’re on the proper side of the thing? Or heading for the right area? I asked.

You’re still going in the proper direction, Frakir answered.

But you don’t know how much farther it’ll be?

Nope. I’ll know when I see it, though.

The sun is going to slip behind the mountain fairly soon. Will you be able to see it to know it then?

I believe the sky actually brightens here when the sun goes away. Negative space is funny that way, Whatever, something is always bright here and something is always dark. There’ll be the wherewithal for detection.

Any idea what we’re actually doing?

One of those damned quest-things, I think.

Vision? Or practical?

It was my understanding that they all partake of both, though I feel this one is heavily weighted toward the latter. On the other wrist, anything you encounter between shadows is likely to partake of the allegorical, the emblematic — all that crap people bury in the nonconscious parts of their beings.

In other words, you don’t know either.

Not for sure, but I make my living as a sensitive guesser.

I reached high, grabbed handholds, drew myself up to another ledge. I followed it for a time, climbed again. At length the sun went away, and it made no difference in my ability to see. Darkness and light changed places.

I scaled a five- or six-meter irregularity and halted when I finally got a look into the recessed area it rose to. There was an opening in the face of the mountain to its rear. I hesitated to label it a cave because it appeared artificial. It looked as if it had been carved in the form of an arch, and it was big enough to ride through on horse-back.

What do you know, Frakir commented, twitching once upon my wrist. This is it.

What? I asked.

The first station, she replied. You stop here and go through a bit of business before moving on.

That being?

It’s easier just to go and look.

I hauled myself up over the edge, got to my feet, and walked forward. The big entranceway was filled with that sourceless light. I hesitated on the threshold, peered within.

It looked to be a generic chapel. There was a small altar, a pair of candles upon it sporting flickering coronas of blackness. There were stone benches carved along the walls. I counted five doorways apart from the one by which I stood: three in the wall across from me; one in that to the right; another to the left. Two piles of battle gear lay in the middle of the room. There were no symbols of whatever religion might be represented.

I entered.

What am I supposed to do here? I asked.

You are supposed to sit vigil, guarding your armor overnight.

Aw, come on, I said, moving forward to inspect the stuff. What’s the point?

That’s not a part of the information I’ve been given.

I picked up a fancy white breastplate which would have made me look like Sir Galahad. Just my size, it seemed. I shook my head and lowered the piece. I moved over to the next pile and picked up a very oddlooking gray gauntlet. I dropped it immediately and rooted through the rest of the stuff. More of the same. Contoured to fit me, also. Only —

What is the matter, Merlin?

The white stuff, I said, looks as if it would fit me right now. The other armor appears to be of a sort used in the Courts. It looks as if it would fit me just right when I’m shifted into my Chaos form. So either set would probably do for me, depending on circumstances. I can use only one outfit at a time, though. Which am I supposed to guard?

I believe that’s the crux of the matter. I think you’re supposed to choose.

Of course! I snapped my fingers, heard nothing. How slow of me, that I need to have things explained by my strangling cord!

I dropped to my knees, swept both sets or armor and weapons together into one nasty-looking heap.

If I have to guard them, I said, I’ll guard both sets. I don’t care to take sides.

I’ve a feeling something isn’t going to like that, Frakir answered.

I stepped back and regarded the pile.

Tell me about this vigil business again, I said. What all’s involved?

You’re supposed to sit up all night and guard it.

Against what?

Against anything that tries to misappropriate it, I guess. The powers of Order —

— or Chaos.

Yeah, I see what you mean. Heaped up together that way, anything might come by to grab off a piece.

I seated myself on the bench along the rear wall, between two doorways. It was good to rest for a bit after my long climb. But something in my mind kept grinding away. Then, after a time, What’s in it for me? I asked.

What do you mean?

Say I sit here all night and watch the stuff. Maybe something even comes along and makes a pass at it. Say I fight it off. Morning comes, the stuff is still here, I’m still here, Then what? What have I gained?

Then you get to don your armor, pick up your weapons, and move on to the next stage of affairs.

I stifled a yawn.

You know, I don’t think I really want any of that stuff, I said then. I don’t like armor, and I’m happy with the sword I’ve got. I clapped my hand to its hilt. It felt strange, but then so did I. Why don’t we just leave the whole pile where it is and move on to the next stage now? What is the next stage anyway?

I’m not sure. The way the Logrus threw information at me it just seems to surface at the appropriate time. I didn’t even know about this place till I saw the entrance.

I stretched and folded my arms. I leaned my back against the wall. I extended my legs and crossed them at the ankles.

Then we’re stuck here till something happens or you get inspired again?

Right.

Wake me when it’s over, I said, and I closed my eyes.

The wrist twitch that followed was almost painful.

Hey! You can’t do that! Frakir said. The whole idea is that you sit up all night and watch.

And a very half assed idea it is, I said. I refuse to play such a stupid game. If anything wants the stuff, I’ll give it a good price on it.

Go ahead and sleep if you want. But what if something comes along and decides you had better be taken out of the picture first?

To begin with, I replied, I don’t believe that anything could care about that pile of medieval junk, let alone lust after it — and in closing, it’s your job to warn me of danger.

Aye, aye, Captain. But this is a weird place. What if it limits my sensitivity some way?

You’re really reaching now, I said. I guess you’ll just have to improvise.

I dozed. I dreamed that I stood within a magic circle and various things tried to get at me. When they touched the barrier, though, they were transformed into stick figures, cartoon characters which rapidly faded. Except for Corwin of Amber, who smiled faintly and shook his head.

“Sooner or later you’ll have to step outside,” he said.

“Then let it be later,” I replied.

“And all your problems will still be there, right where you left them.”

I nodded.

“But I’ll be rested,” I answered.

“Then it’s a trade-off. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

The dream fell apart into random images then. I seem to remember standing outside the circle a little later, trying to figure a way to get back in…

I wasn’t certain what woke me. It couldn’t have been a noise. But suddenly I was alert and rising, and the first thing I beheld was a dwarf with a mottled complexion, his hands clasped at his throat, lying unmoving in a twisted position near the armor pile.

“What’s going on?” I tried saying. But there was no reply.

I crossed and knelt beside the short big-shouldered guy. With my fingertips, I felt after a carotid pulse but couldn’t locate one. At that moment, however, I felt a tickling sensation about my wrist, and Frakir — phasing into and out of visibility — made her way back into touch with with me.

You took that guy out? I asked.

There came a soft pulsation then. Suicides don’t strangle themselves, she replied.

Why didn’t you alert me?

You needed your rest, and it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Our empathy is too strong, though. Sorry I woke you.

I stretched.

How long was I asleep?

Several hours, I’d judge.

I feel kind of sorry about this, I said. That scrap heap isn’t worth somebody’s life.

It is now, Frakir answered.

True. Now that someone’s died for the stuff have you gotten the word as to what we do next?

Things are a little clearer, but not enough to act on. We must remain until morning for me to be certain.

Does the information you have include anything on whether there’s food or drink available in the neighborhood?

Yes. There’s supposed to be a jug of water behind the altar. Also a loaf of bread. But that’s for morning. You’re supposed to be fasting throughout the night.

That’f only if I take this whole business seriously, I said, turning toward the altar.

I took two steps, and the world started to come apart. The floor of the chapel trembled, and I heard my first sounds since my arrival; a deep growling, grating noise came from somewhere far beneath me. A horde of colors flashed through the air of this colorless place, half blinding me with their intensity Then the colors fled, and the room divided itself. The whiteness grew intense in the vicinity of the archway by which I had entered. I had to raise my hand to shield my eyes against it. Across from this, a profound darkness occurred, masking the three doorways in that wall.

What… is it? I asked.

Something terrible, Frakir replied, beyond my ability to access.

I clasped the hilt of the blade I wore and reviewed the spells I still had hanging. Before I could do any more than that, an awful sense of presence pervaded the place. So potent did it seem that I did not feel that drawing my blade or reciting a spell was the most politic action I might take.

Ordinarily I’d have summoned the Sign of the Logrus by then, but that way was barred to me also. I tried clearing my throat, but no sound came forth. Then there came a movement at the heart of the light, a coalescing…

The shape of a Unicorn, like Blake’s Tyger, burning bright, took form, so painful to behold that I had to look away.

I shifted my gaze to the deep, cool blackness, but there was no rest for my eyes in that place either. Something stirred within the darkness, and there came another sound — a grating, as of metal being scraped on stone. This was followed by a powerful hissing. The ground trembled again. Curved lines flowed forward. Even before the brightness of the Unicorn etched its lineaments within that mighty gloom, I realized it was the head of a one-eyed serpent which had come partway into the chapel. I shifted my gaze to a point between them, catching each within my peripheral vision. Far better than any attempt to behold either directly I felt their gazes upon me, the Unicorn of Order and the Serpent of Chaos. It was not a pleasant feeling, and I retreated until the altar was at my back.

Both came slightly farther into the chapel. The Unicorn’s head was lowered, horn pointed directly at me. The Serpent’s tongue darted in my direction.

“Uh, if either of you want this armor and stuff,” I ventured, “I certainly have no object —”

The Serpent hissed and the Unicorn raised a hoof and let it fall, cracking the floor of the chapel, the fracture line racing toward me like a streak of black lightning and halting just at my feet.

“On the other hand,” I observed, “no insult is intended by the offer, Your Eminences —”

Wrong thing to say — again, Frakir interjected, weakly.

Tell me what’s right, I said, trying for a mental sotto voce.

I don’t — Oh!

The Unicorn reared; the Serpent drew itself upward. I dropped to my knees and looked away, their gazes having somehow become physically painful. I was trembling, and all of my muscles had begun to ache.

It is suggested, Frakir recited, that you play the game the way it is set up.

What metal entered my backbone I know not. But I raised my head and turned it, looking first to the Serpent, then to the Unicorn. Though my eyes watered and ached as if I were trying to stare down the sun, I managed the gesture.

“You can make me play,” I said, “but you cannot make me choose. My will is my own. I will guard this armor all night, as is required of me. In the morning I will go on without it because I do not choose to wear it.”

Without it you may die, Frakir stated, as if translating.

I shrugged.

“If it is my choice to make, I choose not to place one of you before the other.”

A rush of wind blew hot and cold past me, seemed a cosmic sigh.

You will choose, Frakir relayed, whether you become aware of it or not. Everyone does. You are simply being asked to formalize your choice.

“What’s so special about my case?” I asked.

Again that wind.

Yours is a dual heritage, combined with great power.

“I never wanted either of you for an enemy,” I stated.

Not good enough, came the reply.

“Then destroy me now.”

The game is already in progress.

“Then let’s get on with it,” I answered.

We are not pleased with your attitude.

“Vice versa,” I answered.

The thunderclap that followed left me unconscious.

The reason I felt I could afford total honesty was a strong hunch that players for this game might be hard to come by.

I woke sprawled across the pile of greaves, cuirasses, gauntlets, helms, and other good things of a similar nature, all of them possessed of corners or protuberances, most of which were jabbing into me. I became aware of this only by degrees, for I had gone numb in lots of important places.

Hi, Merlin.

Frakir, I responded. Have I been out for long?

I don’t know. I just came around myself.

I didn’t know a piece of rope could be knocked out.

Neither did I. It never happened to me before.

Let me amend my question then: Any idea how long we’ve been out?

Fairly long, I feel. Get me a glimpse out the doorway, and I may be able to give you a better idea.

I pushed myself slowly to my feet, could not remain standing, dropped. I crawled to the entranceway, noting in passing that nothing on the heap seemed to be missing. The floor was indeed cracked. There really was a dead dwarf to the rear of the chamber.

I looked outside, beheld a bright sky, black points disposed within it.

Well? I asked after a time.

If I figure right, it should be morning soon. Always brightest before the dawn, eh?

Something like that.

My legs burned as their circulation was restored. I pushed myself upright, stood leaning against the wall.

Any new instructions?

Not yet. I’ve a feeling they’re due with the dawn.

I staggered to the nearest bench, collapsed upon it.

If anything comes in now, all I’ve got to hit it with is an odd assortment of spells. Sleeping on armor leaves a few kinks. Almost as bad as sleeping in it.

Throw me at the enemy and the least I can do is buy you time.

Thanks.

How far back does your memory go?

To when I was a little kid, I guess. Why?

I recall sensations from when I was first enhanced, back in the Logrus. But everything up until we got here is kind of dreamlike. I just sort of used to react to life.

A lot of people are that way, too.

Really? I couldn’t think, or communicate this way before.

True.

Do you think it will last?

What do you mean?

Might this just be a temporary condition? Might I just have been enhanced to deal with the special circumstances in this place?

I don’t know, Frakir, I answered, massaging my left calf. I suppose its possible. Are you getting attached to the state?

Yes. Silly of me, I guess. How can I care about something I won’t miss when it’s gone?

Good question, and I don’t know the answer. Maybe you would have achieved this state anyway eventually.

I don’t think so. But I don’t know for certain.

You afraid to regress?

Yes.

Tell you what. When we find a way out of here, you stay behind.

I couldn’t do that.

Why not? You’ve come in handy on occasion, but I can take care of myself. Now you’re sentient you should have a life of your own.

But I’m a freak.

Aren’t we all? I just want you to know I understand, and it’s okay with me.

She pulsed once and shut up.

I wished I weren’t afraid to drink the water.

I sat there for perhaps the better part of an hour, going over everything that had happened to me recently, looking for patterns, clues.

I can sort of hear you thinking, Frakir said suddenly, and I can offer you something in one area.

Oh? What might that be?

The one who brought you here.

The thing that looked like my father?

Yes.

What of him?

He was different from your other two visitors. He was human. They weren’t.

You mean it might actually have been Corwin?

I never met him, so I can’t say. He wasn’t one of those constructs, though.

Do you know what they were?

No. I only know one peculiar thing about them, and I don’t understand it at all.

I leaned forward and rubbed my temples. I took several deep breaths. My throat was very dry, and my muscles ached.

Go ahead. I’m waiting.

I don’t quite know how to explain it, Frakir said. But back in my presentient days you inconsiderately wore me about your wrist when you walked the Pattern.

I recall. I had a scar for a long time after, from your reaction to it.

Things of Chaos and things of Order do not mix well. But I survived. And the experience is recorded within me. Now the Dworkin and the Oberon figures that visited you back at the cave —

Yes?

Beneath their apparent humanity they were pulsing energy fields within geometrical constructs.

Sounds sort of like computer animation.

Maybe it is something like that. I couldn’t say.

And my father wasn’t one of these?

Nope. But that wasn’t what I was getting at. I recognized the source.

I was suddenly alert.

What do you mean?

The swirls — the geometrical constructs on which the figure were based — they reproduced sections of the Pattern at Amber.

You must be mistaken.

No. What I lacked in sentience I made up in memory. Both figures were three-dimensional twistings of Pattern segments.

Why would the Pattern be creating simulacra to bug me?

I’m just a humble killing aid. Reasoning is not one of my strong points yet.

If the Unicorn and the Serpent are involved, I suppose the Pattern might be also.

We know that the Logrus is.

And it seemed to me that the Pattern demonstrated sentience the day Coral walked it. Say that’s true and add on the ability to manufacture constructs — Is this the place it wanted them to bring me? Or did Corwin transport me someplace else? And what does the Pattern want of me? And what does my father want of me?

I envy your ability to shrug, Frakir answered. Those are what I take it you call rhetorical questions?

I guess so.

Information of another sort is beginning to come to me, so I assume the night is ending.

I sprang to my feet.

Does that mean I can eat — and drink? I asked.

I believe so.

I moved quickly then.

While I am new to these things, I cannot help wondering whether it might be considered disrespectful to vault over an altar that way, Frakir commented.

The black flames flickered as I passed between them.

Hell, I don’t even know what it’s an altar to, I answered, and I’ve always thought of disrespect as something that had to be identity-specific.

The ground trembled slightly as I seized the jug and took a deep swallow.

Then, again, perhaps you have a point there, I said, choking.

I carried the jug and the loaf around the altar, past the stiffening dwarf and over to the bench which ran along the back wall. Seating myself, I commenced eating and drinking more slowly.

What comes next? I asked. You said that the information was flowing again.

You have kept vigil successfully, she said. Now you must select what you need from among the armor and weapons you watched, then pass through one of the three doorways in this wall.

Which one?

One is the door of Chaos, one the door of Order, and I know not the nature of the third.

Uh, how does one make an informed decision in these matters?

I think your way may be barred by all but the one you’re supposed to pass.

Then one does not really have a choice, does one?

I believe that the matter of the doorways may be predicated upon the choice one makes in the hardware department.

I finished the bread, washed it down with the rest of the water. I got to my feet then.

Well, I said, let’s see what they’ll do if I don’t make a choice. Too bad about the dwarf.

He knew what he was doing, what chances he was taking.

That’s more than I can say.

I approached the right-hand door since it was the nearest. It let into a bright corridor which grew brighter and brighter as it receded until sight of it was lost to me beyond a few paces’ distance. I kept walking. Damn near broke my nose, too. It was as if I’d encountered a wall of glass. It figures. I couldn’t picture myself walking off into the light that way.

You’re actually getting more cynical as I watch, Frakir observed. I caught that thought.

Good.

I approached the middle one more carefully. It wore gray and seemed to let into a long corridor also. I could see down it perhaps a little farther than the first, though no features other than walls, roof, and floor presented themselves. I extended my arm and discovered that my way was not barred.

Seems to be the one, Frakir observed.

Maybe.

I moved over to the left-hand doorway, its passage black as the inside of God’s pocket. Again there was no resistance when I explored for hidden barriers.

Hm. It appears I do have a choice.

Odd. I haven’t any instructions to cover this.

I returned to the middle one, took a step forward. Hearing a sound behind me, I turned. The dwarf had sat up. He was holding his sides and laughing. I tried to turn back then, but now something barred my return. Suddenly then the scene dwindled, as if I were accelerating to the rear.

I thought the little guy was dead, I said.

So did I. He gave every indication.

I turned away, back to the direction I’d been headed. There was no feeling of acceleration. Perhaps it was the chapel that was receding while I stood still.

I took a step forward, then another. Not a sound from my footfalls. I began walking. After a few paces I put out my hand to touch the left-hand wall. It encountered nothing. I tried again with the right. Again nothing. I took a step to the right and reached again. Nope. I still seemed approximately equidistant from two shadowy walls. Growling, I ignored them and strode forward.

What’s the matter, Merle?

Do you or do you not sense walls to the right and left of us? I asked.

Nope, Frakir replied.

Any idea at all where we are?

We are walking between shadows.

Where are we headed?

Don’t know yet. We’re following the Way of Chaos, though.

What? How do you know that? I thought we had to pick something Chaosian for the pile to be admitted here.

At this I gave myself a quick search. I found the dagger tucked into my right boot sheath. Even in the dim light I could recognize the workmanship as something from back home.

We were set up somehow, I said. Now I know why the dwarf was laughing. He planted this on me while we were passed out.

But you still had a choice — between this and the dark corridor.

True.

So why’d you pick this one?

The light was better.