Amber - Prologues

[Voshkod]

And now we are eighteen. . . .

Lore

The Great Hall of the castle is bedecked with torches and redolent with fine food. Today you turn eighteen, and it seems the entire town is there. The fires reflect of the dark green granite floor, the black cross-cutting veins seeming to capture and hold the twinkling lights. Your latest high priest stands next to your chair, a massive thing of mahogany and silver.

Musicians are playing your favorite songs, and a bevy of young ladies attend your every need. Above you is another of the now familiar pictures of you gazing up at the sun that created you.

Drake

College applications. Harvard, Oxford, the Sorbonne, UCLA, pamphlets from a hundred schools spread out on the table. Breakers are flowing in from the sea across the reef, blue then white then green as they come ashore on the cover. The air is humid and warm, but there's enough of a trade breeze to keep you from stifling. Just another day in paradise.

Two years, in fact, two years on this private island, this little tropical prison.

Grettir

The longships cut the wine-dark sea, the steady beat of drums echoing the waves, echoing the heartbeat of Thorgunna as she sleeps beside you under the furs. Still only one heartbeat, though; there is not yet an heir, and soon grumblings will begin.

But that's not a trouble for today. For by the time Dagr's chariot mounts the sky, you will see the white shore where the soft men live. Where the rich men live. Two years ago your father died; today you fulfill his destiny.

Rachel

The brothel resounds with light and laughter. Money and wine flow freely, and you can almost feel the coffers groaning under the weight of the gold. It's been two years since Random came and went, leaving behind him a wake of bullet-riddled bodies, and everything has gotten better.

You'll be of age soon. The other women have taught you the tricks of the trade, secrets common to women, but so amazing to men. You basically run the place, as seems quite proper to most. The name hasn't changed though, and her ghost, it seems, is still here: Lorali.

Bellona

It's been two years since Corwin and Random ripped through Arden, two years in which Father has been building up forces, training his rangers to fight. Gerard and Caine have been here more often, and even Eric, once, though you were told in no uncertain terms not to show yourself while he was in the house. Two years of rumors; Corwin and Eric battled, Corwin's dead, Corwin's back.

You can see it now, Corwin's army, your squad of rangers at your back. Waiting now, waiting for Julian's horn.

Soren

From your command post, you can see the broad valley below. Your goal, a modest castle atop a peak. You are outnumber, but they're unprepared. But they have Benedict.

It's the same scenario, day after day now; the same valley, the same castle, the mix of forces waxing and waning. Benedict's talking into those cards more and more often now, and you've caught snippets. Corwin's marching, Bleys is with him, they say.

[The Prince of Cats]

Drake

To many others, the island would be a paradise. Indeed, nobody else seemed to view it as anything less than perfection itself. And yet... Drake knew he needed to leave.

It was not a sense of impending danger, unless in his boredom he might hurt himself. No... It was just the stifling ennui that seemed to follow him around. He had decided a few months ago where he would like to go now, he just requested the other applications for the sake of appearance. After all, an open mind was less oblivious to danger. His mother had taken Drake out of England but she had never taken England out of Drake.

It would not be too much longer before they would part and he still equated America with those... things that had killed the dogs and seemed to have given even two princes of Amber a good fight. One of those princes was Random, he had to admit, but it was still unpleasant business.

And then there was the pattern. He had dreamt of that diagram traced in fire than King Oberon had shown him and Drake was growing more certain that it was the pattern his mother had spoken of in an unguarded moment. When he was older, his grandfather had said. Well, he was eighteen now. How much older did his mother think he should be?

At the same time, Drake knew that it would be the end of his time here once he did travel to Amber. He might return but it would never be the same, he did not believe. Random had called Amber... the True Realm? Real Realm? It had been a remark in passing, eight years ago, but it plagued his mind. If this were not real, how could he ever return without seeing a painted canvas where the wall should be?

Three years at Oxford would be more than enough time to prepare himself for Amber. Once he returned, he would be twenty-one. Not even his mother could argue with his decision then...

[SilverElf4]

Soren

Soren sighs, probing the castle with his eyesight, looking for weaknesses. His vision swims, and the spyglass wavers. He quickly steadies himself on a nearby tree. He is tired. His father has been pushing him hard, and this is the....well, he couldn't remember how many straight battles now, or how long it had been since he had slept more than the bare minimum to be functional for the next assault.

Between the fatigue, and the intrigue over his father's phantom conversations, he is finding it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.

Suddenly, a flash of insight from an old book of military fiction he had read as a child. "The enemy's gate is down." Soren couldn't help but smile as he stood once again unaided by the tree. A frontal assault? Why not. They had had no time to prepare. There would be no burning pitch or wooden and steel traps. The moat did not even look to be filled. He turned to give his orders. They would think him crazy, and he would have to explain it no doubt, but it would work. Even his renowned father couldn't mow them all down before he breached the gate...

[mutecebu]

Lore

Huray for birthdays. Eighteen going on eternal. Just another reminder of the contradiction that was his immage and his life. Everything around him was so artificial. Especially the way everyone acted around him. Lore did away with the no-eye-contact rule long ago, but it didn't change anything, everyone acted differently "to please him". Trying to moddel his life like a commoner didn't help. Why did kids like birthdays? To get stuff. Lore had "stuff", pleanty of it.

Lore sighed, took a sip of wine, and leaned back in his throne. What did the commonors say? "Life is good."

Humbug.

[Hrolf]

Grettir

Grettir leaves the side of his wife, pulling the white bear fur of his first kill around his shoulders. Wearing his underkirtle and hose beneath his fur, he feels the cold as he stands, nodding to the steersman.
Grettir moves forward to the dragon carved prow of the ship. He rolls strategies over in his mind. Viking raids are improvised affairs, either trading or fighting depending on which side of the risk/benefit equation the captain feels like.
Grettir thinks through the intelligence he has gathered from traders and raiders, summing in his mind the military might of the soft lands.

[The_Logic_Ninja]

Rachel

Late evening, stars and firelight, the smell of jasmine. Rachel leaves her mother's gun in its resting-place before going into the gardens behind the brothel, Lady greeting her, hungry for food and affection. Bread and a touch soothe her, and when she's done with the duck, she goes around to the front, shifting her ruffled skirt to sit on the porch. Rachel listens to the laughter from within and looks down the road, waiting for her father. Not expecting, really, but waiting, as she has been almost every night for the past year.

[Puma]

Bellona[br][br]Two years of difficult training, both for the Rangers and for Bella. It was all worth it, to be in her father's confidence (or at least as far as a child of Oberon can allow others into their confidences). Bella did her best to prove herself worthy of her father's trust.[br][br]Unfortunately, her first command is likely to be a failure, having to face an army led by Corwin's hand-picked officers. Still, Arden has to be defended.[br][br]Bella gives a hand signal: Be prepared to act![br]Her squad will attack and fade into the forest, or so goes the plan.

[Voshkod]

Bellona

Corwin's army is marching through the Vale of Garnath, the most beautiful spot in Arden. Also the narrowest pass on the way to Amber. The perfect chokepoint. The head of the army is almost toward the end of the ambush zone, though, and no horn has been sounded. But you can smell . . . smoke?

Rachel

A huge man is approaching, up the stairway from the harbor. He's of such a size that he should be lumbering, you think, but he moves gracefully. Black hair, black beard and mustache, wearing travelling clothes, and singing a song about the sea in a deep, easy voice. He stops at the foot of the porch, doffs his hat, and bows. "Good evening, miss." His voice rumbles like the sea itself. "I'm looking for a young lady named Rachel."

Grettir

The reports from the seawolves are promising. The land is in a civil war, large armies marching about in the central areas, more concerned about killing each other than about raiders from the sea. Hit hard and fast, and plunder will be yours. Stay too long, and one of these armies may catch you.

Lore

A huge cake is brought out and placed on the table, which groans under the weight. You're handed a gleaming silver knife, and the music stops. And then the doors to the great hall fly open with a boom.

There's a small figure, almost a dark shadow against the torches. Cloaked. Still and silent.

Soren

Your father's sword is at your throat, but your men are in the castle. "Enough," he says, and the "dead" stand, rubbing bruises from the rebated weapons. "A good move, Soren. Sometimes the most open way, the most obvious path, can work. Perhaps that's what Corwin's thinking even now. He's in the Vale of Garnath, according to my spies, and Julian bides his time. Eric's confused, scared."

He steps back, resheathes his sword. "It gives me little comfort to know that I could sweep the defense of Amber way with such ease."

Drake

Your mother is sitting on a lounge on one of the lower decks, soaking up the sun, drinking some umbrella drink. It's a subtle shift, but you notice it. She puts the drink down slowly, and seems to be talking, very quietly, to someone unseen.

[The_Logic_Ninja]

Rachel

"You've found her," Rachel says easily, tilting her head to look up, her arms around her knees. "Why were you looking for her?"

[SilverElf4]

Soren

Soren shakes his head. Despite his weariness, he feels good to have gotten that far against his father. He pauses and then looks at Benedict.

"That begs and interesting question father: why aren't you there? If Amber needs defending from this...Corwin, or anyone else for that matter, who better than you to do it?"

[The Prince of Cats]

Drake

Softly, though without any real attempt at stealth, Drake approached his mother. This place was both sanctuary and escape, outside the petty squabbles of a family who would kill him for the right (or any) cause. With this in mind, a call from his family would bode ill.

He waited patiently, not so close as to eavesdrop but not so far that he could not read her lips. She would probably be talking that strange language of hers but he could at least pick out a few words by now.

[Voshkod]

Drake

Drake's Thari has actually become pretty good. ". . . what will he do . . . has Corwin gotten any aid? . . . Bleys, of course . . . if you insist, Eric . . . not much help though."

She sighs, picks her drink back up. "Drake? Drake! Where are you?"

Soren

"Because I have no interest in wearing the crown, Soren. I saw what it did to Father over the years. A crown's a prison for body and mind. And yet Corwin and Eric duel over it. They're both fools."

He stretches. "If this little spat endangers Amber, I'll return and teach both of my little brothers a lesson. Until then . . . until then, I'll stay informed."

Rachel

The man smiles, a genuine thing (or so it appears), and he begins to rummage around in his pack. He pulls out a battered fedora that you recognize as Random's, and he pops it down on your head. "Your father sent me, Rachel. I am Gerard, your uncle."

[The Prince of Cats]

Drake

"Yes mother?" he said, walking over to her. He made no attempt to hide his proximity but was careful not to react to anything he had overheard. As she herself had said, she was too easily underestimated.

"Is there something wrong? You seemed a million miles away..." he remarked with a smile. She must have known that he recognised a message through the cards.

[Puma]

Bellona[br][br]Bella considers the scene while waiting for the order to attack. First they come and threaten my father, then they march unnatural things through our home. The arrogance. No wonder Father wanted to be in Arden rather than with them.[br][br]She sighs, realizing that the idyllic Arden of her childhood is gone and will never return. [br]So be it... there will be time enough for grief after. But someone will pay, in spades.[br]Bella checks her gear once more... surely they'll charge soon.

[Voshkod]

Bellona

The smell of smoke grows stronger, and the valley begins to fill with haze. Off to the left, you can suddenly see flame gouting, leaping from tree to tree - a crown fire, driven by the sea wind, tearing down into the valley. Corwin's army starts to run, trying to clear the pass before the fire reaches them, and yet no trumpet sounds. You can hear skirmishing off to the left, near the head of the fire.

Drake

"Drake," Floramel says with a smile, "our long exile is nearly at an end, one way or the other. Corwin has made his move, with brother Bleys at his side. It seems likely he's doomed. If Corwin and Bleys are out of the picture, Eric will feel secure enough to wear the crown, and I will be rewarded for my loyalty. And, if Corwin or Bleys wins out, I'll go on bended knee and tell them Eric forced little helpless Flora to stand with him. Either way, the gate to Amber is opening up again. Once the crown sits on someone's head, we'll go to Amber. And you'll walk the Pattern."

[The_Logic_Ninja]

Rachel

Reflexively, she adjusts the hat on her head. Father--he's sent someone--uncle?
"Uncle?" she repeats, a little stunned. "I--I didn't know--I mean... good evening, uncle." She regains her balance a little. "Did Father want something, or was he just sending me his hat?"

[Voshkod]

Rachel

"Well, he did want to send his hat," Gerard laughs, "so you would know it came from him. But he also wanted someone to protect you. There's a bit of war going on back home, and Random's down for the count. He asked me to come and take you somewhere safe until the coronation."

[SilverElf4]

Soren

Soren runs his hands through his hair. "I didn't mean as king, father, I meant as defender. Although I'm guessing the reason you aren't already there is that you don't approve of Eric or Corwin's rule." He pauses a moment, musing. "Didn't your father name a successor? That would have avoided the whole bloody mess wouldn't it?"

[Voshkod]

Soren

Benedict sits down on a stump in the courtyard looking, for once, defeated. "Divining my father's whims and will was never possible. The man was a weathervane, turning and shifting to the inscrutable winds of his own mind. Why name an heir? I didn't want it, my older brothers wanted it too much. The dispute between Eric and Corwin was perfect for him - kept the children squabbling for his amusement. Neither Eric or Corwin, though, are half the man father was."

[The Prince of Cats]

Drake

"And they will believe you, won't they? Little Flora is always the victim, she never wanted to get involved. Perhaps one day I will learn to play them even as they play one another, though I cannot believe I shall ever prove your equal..."

Drake shook his head; it was too easy for his mother to play these games and not one of them seemed to have the sense to question what they believed.

"When I come to think of it, perhaps even I would be well-advised to trust you a little less."

With that, he laughed. He knew that he was right but that only made it all the more amusing. If you cannot trust your own family, who can you trust?

[The_Logic_Ninja]

Rachel

"Wherever Father's from, it must be rather far away. I have a business to run, uncle, and I'm hesitant to leave it for a distant war on the word of a father I've seen once in eighteen years." She glances up at Gerard through dark lashes, underneath the hat's brim. "Random," the name feels strange in her mouth, "said some very strange things when he was here. I'll go with you, but I would very much like it if you were to explain them."

[Puma]

Bellona[br][br]Bella's brow creases as she struggles with what to do. The enemy is vulnerable... but she has to get her own people to safety. [br][br]"We'll hunt them down later. Withdraw in good order to the barracks if you can, otherwise to our rally point... you may be needed, or from there they'll have us withdraw to a safer spot."[br]She looks towards the sound of fighting. [br]"I would take vol.." She thinks better of taking the Rangers along. No sense wasting their lives in an inferno. [br]"Go. I'll see to this."

[Voshkod]

Bellona

You make your way along the fire line, toward where the sounds of fighting are now subsiding. It does look like a goodly portion of Corwin's men were engulfed in flames down below, as the crown fire ripped the air out of their lungs.

You break into the clearing where your father had placed his command post. Several of the trees are decorated with hanging men, all wearing Eric's colors. Several of the rangers are injured and being cared for. Julian is pacing back and forth under the hanged men, shouting at someone unseen. "They set fire to the Vale, Eric! Your thugs set fire to Garnath! And they claim you ordered them to! How dare you, brother!" His normally icy calm around family is shattered; you've never seen him so enraged.

Rachel

Gerard sits down next to you, puts a hand on your shoulder. You can feel the strength there. "He's told you . . . nothing?" He shakes his head, sadly. "Damn it, Random, would you drive her off like you did Martin?," he asks himself quietly.

Gerard takes a deep breath. "Rachel, my niece, the truth will sound very strange, but the truth it is. All that you see around you is nothing but shadows, shadows of a place far away, where Random and I are both princes of the realm. We - he and I and now you - carry in our very blood the secrets of shaping the universe at our whim. You, Rachel, are a princess of Amber."

Giving you a moment to absorb this, he produces a pipe from his pocket and starts to pack with fragrant leaves.

Drake

"Oh, yes, Drake, poor little Floramel, youngest of the family, everyone picked on Floramel, so she ran off and created her own world, called it Earth, and put so much of her time and life and blood into it that it became the strongest place in the universe apart from Amber and Chaos." Her voice has the usual lightness to it, but you (knowing her as you do) can sense the resentment. "Random - the youngest son - was a right bastard, but Flora, everyone loves Flora, because she's so harmless, just another pretty head with an empty mind, the type that drive powerful men into stupid action."

She sits up. "And now Corwin and Bleys and Eric and the others play their little games around the crown, men's work, while Fiona reads her books and oh-so-superior Llewella hides in Rebma and Dierdre spreads her . . . ." She stops herself, biting her lower lip.

[Hrolf]

Grettir

The ship sails on over the sea, making for the coast. Grettir's orders are to steer for a river mouth around which a fast fleet can play merry hell with all the settlements. There should be treasure a plenty.
He casts his mind over what he intends to do with all this wealth. He intends to build a ship that will sail to Aesgard. He means to sail to Valhalla while still alive. He will meet his mother and see his dead father again.

[The_Logic_Ninja]

Rachel

The words resonate, for some reason. It sounds crazy, but it feels oddly right. She shakes her head.
"You're joking. --You're not joking. That's... a very fantastic story."
When I was little, I wanted to be a princess.
"I'll go, I suppose. Is there anything I should bring?"

[The Prince of Cats]

Drake

The young man walked closer to his mother, crouching down so that he did not force her to look up at him.

"Mother, what do you gain from all of this? You throw yourself on the mercy of the victor and carefully avoid any decisive action so that you can later disown your own handiwork. What purpose does it serve? What do you want?"

Just for a moment, there is something in his eyes of the Amberite princes. Something hard, something devious, something proud.

"I know what I am, what I can one day hope to attain but I have no idea what I should do with that birthright. I... don't know who I am some days. I have grown up as something greater than those around me, like a modern Heracles or Achilles, but I am just a minor princeling in the realm of Amber..."

[Puma]

Bellona[br][br]Bella moves through the command post towards her father, warning Rangers to be prepared to move as she goes. [br][br]"Prince Julian, sir..."[br]Bella guesses he's talking via Trump to uncle Eric who must be in the castle. Julian is keeping her away from Eric, thus it might not be the best idea to call him "father" at this point. [br]"...we must withdraw. sir."[br][br]Bella is doing her best to be serene, to give her father's men something to coalesce around, if Julian gets pulled to Amber or something else untoward should occur.

[mutecebu]

Lore

Lore stands, eyes fixed on the newcomer, and calls out authoritatively

"Speak."

[Voshkod]

Lore

The figure does not speak, but begins to walk down the center aisle of the great hall toward you with an unearthly grace. As it moves, the very world behind it falls into dust and shadow; the flagstones shatter beneath its feet, tables fall away into rot, and the people, the flesh melts from their bodies, leaving nothing more than the flash image of the skeleton, which joins the dust on the floor.

Bellona

Julian looks at you, his face a mask of rage. "No, brother, you listen," he spits. "I'm done with your damn war. You and Corwin and Bleys can all go to the abyss." He closes his eyes, and then raises his horn. The sour notes of retreat blow through the air, and the scouts and rangers mount up. In the flash of a few seconds you and he are alone in the forest, surrounded by the dead men hanging from the trees.

Drake

"If it were only that easy, Drake. What do I want? I know what I don't want. I don't want to waste away into madness in that dreary little castle on that dreary little mountain. I don't want to play games for a circlet of gold that has no meaning in a world where any of us can be the King of all creation." She looks at you, her eyes gleaming at the edge of tears. "And I don't want you to have to grow up amidst all that, another pawn in the politics of court. If I could, I would lock you up here, on this shadow, or make you the lord of some vast world that you could explore forever. But I can't do that, anymore than I could clip the wings of a bird meant to soar. I don't know what I want, Drake, but I do know this - you are a Prince of Amber, and I've withheld your birthright from you for far too long, out of my own selfishness."

Rachel

Gerard puffs a few aromatic smokerings. "You are Random's daughter, aren't you? A few sentences from a stranger and you're ready to give up your whole life for an adventure." He chuckles, not unkindly. "Take those things you can't replace, things of real value to you. Everything else I can provide. I'll stay here until you're ready, I've no use for brothels. Can't stand a woman I'd have to pay for."

Grettir

The merchant town burns merrily, flame and smoke rising skyward. You can see your men carrying off their plunder, gold, silver, goods from around the globe. If every town is this rich, you'll be ready to return home soon.

Two of your men approach, with a woman in a black robe, trimmed with silver, between them. "We've captured a seer. She asked to be taken to the child of the valkerie, so she could purchase her future by telling him his."

The woman pulls back her hood. She has raven-black hair and eyes blue as the deepest seas. "Good day to you, Grettir Valkerie's Son. I am Dierdre, a seer and sage woman. I have news of your future, if you have ears to listen."

[SilverElf4]

Soren

Soren narrows his eyes carefully and speaks in a well-measured tone. "I'm not sure I understand - one minute you call your father a lunatic and the next you declare him a giant among men."