John Betancourt - The Dawn of Amber

“My set of Trumps. And a few other precious items I don’t want to lose. I thought I’d store them down here until we leave. We are leaving, aren’t we?”

I smiled bleakly. “What happened to your faith in Dad, Locke, and me? I thought you planned to sit tight until we killed everyone.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “No offense, brother, but have you noticed what we’re up against? We won’t be alive to fight if we don’t get out of here, and soon. They’re bringing the castle down on our heads!”

A particularly loud crack! sounded outside as if to underscore his words. The castle shook, and I heard the low rumble of falling stones.

He might have a point, I thought. But the castle walls grew stronger the closer you got to the foundations. It wouldn’t be easy to destroy Juniper.

“In case you missed it,” I told him, “our Trumps aren’t working anymore. We can’t go anywhere. It’s time to stand and fight.”

“What?” He paled. “You’re wrong! The Trumps always work!”

“Try one,” I said, “and you’ll see. Neither Freda, Dad, nor I could get them to work.”

The servants carrying the trunk had reached the bottom of the stairs, and he motioned for them to set it down. They did so, and he flipped open its lid. I peered over his shoulder and saw stacks of cards… there had to be hundreds of them.

He picked up the top one, which showed me … it was the same card he’d been painting in his room earlier.

“Do you mind?” he asked me.

“Go ahead.”

He stared at it intently, frowning, but I felt no sense of contact. From his frustrated expression, I knew it wasn’t working for him, either.

With a low moan, he dropped his arm and looked at me. His face had gone ashen; his hand trembled.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I felt a little guilty for having him try the Trump when I’d known it wouldn’t work. Making Trumps seemed to be his one great talent, and it had been rendered useless right now.

“I can’t believe it,” he said.

“We’ll think of something else,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Dad has whole rooms full of magical stuff. He must have something that can help us.”

Aber tossed the card back into the trunk, then slammed down the lid. Motioning for the two men to pick it up again, he told them to put it with the rest of his belongings. They started off down the hall.

“Well,” he told me philosophically, “I’ll just have to fall back on my other plan, I suppose.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Hide until the danger’s past!”

I laughed, and he gave me a weak smile. At least he still had his sense of humor.

The lightning stopped half an hour later, with the coming of night, but I suspected it was a temporary reprieve. Perhaps whoever had sent the cloud needed daylight to direct his attack. I had little doubt but that the blasts would resume at dawn.

Our father remained locked in his workshop, leaving the rest of us to care for the castle. It was late by the time we had everyone bedded down for the night, from family to servants. The guards bravely walking the battlements were the only ones outside.

Freda, Blaise, and I retired to the audience hall, waiting for Locke and Davin to return. We didn’t have much to say to each other, but the company was better than being alone.

The silence outside seemed ominous.

Finally, toward midnight, I heard horses in the courtyard and rose to check.

“It’s Locke and Davin,” I told my sisters.

“About time,” Blaise murmured.

Locke left the horses with Davin and hurried inside. He looked grim when he saw us.

“What news?” I asked.

“The men are now a safe distance from the castle,” he said. “I don’t think the lightning will reach them. What have I missed? Where’s Dad?”

“Locked in his rooms,” I said unhappily. “He’s not answering to knocks.”

Freda added, “We moved everyone to ground level, and they are settled for the night.”

“I saw the lightning strikes,” he said. “Perhaps we should move everyone out to the fields as soon as possible.”

“I think that would be a mistake,” I said. “They’re trying to drive us into the open. Despite the lightning, we’re better off in here. Although the top towers will fall, the closer the walls get to the ground, the stronger they become. We’ll be all right for a while yet.”

“Good enough.”

“If you’re going back out tomorrow morning,” I said, “you might want to do it before daybreak. I think darkness stopped the lightning.”

“I will.” He glanced around. “Where are we camped out tonight?”

I rose. “I’ll show you.”

My sleep was deep and restful, for once. Even though I shared the chamber with a dozen others, most of whom snored, exhaustion took me. No bad dreams plagued me, no visions of evil serpents or dying men on stone altars, no skies of ever-shifting patterns nor towers made of human bones.

I woke a little before dawn, listening to the first stirrings of life, thinking back to events of the previous night. It seemed unreal, somehow, almost like a bad dream. Clouds didn’t swirl in the sky, loosing thunderbolts upon helpless people. It seemed impossible, and yet I knew it had happened.

A silent figure crept into the room. I tensed, hand reaching for my sword. It was one of the castle guards. Another assassin?

Silently, like a ghost, he padded to Locke’s side. I prepared to shout a warning and launch myself at him, but he only stretched out his hand and shook his general’s shoulder.

Locke came awake with a start.

“You asked me to fetch you before dawn, General,” the man said. “It’s time.”

“Very well,” he said softly. “Wake Davin.” Rising, he began to dress.

I too sat up, stretching. My muscles ached a bit from my workout the previous afternoon, but I felt much refreshed… ready to fight, if need be, to protect Juniper. The hell-creatures would not take the castle easily, I vowed. I began to dress, too.

Locke picked up his boots, noticed me, and gave a quick jerk of his head toward the door. Rising, I grabbed my own boots and followed him out. We headed toward our father’s workshop.

“What are your plans for today?” I asked when he paused to pull on his boots. I took a moment to do the same.

“Prepare the men for battle,” he said grimly.

“I don’t think it will come today.”

“Why not?”

“Why rush? Let the lightning work on our morale.”

He nodded. “You’re right. That’s what I would do, too.”

We headed for our father’s rooms again, but the guards there lowered their pikes, blocking our way.

“Apologies, my Lords,” said the guard on duty with an audible gulp. “Prince Dworkin said not to let anyone disturb him. Not even you, General.”

Locke sighed. “I know you are only doing your duty,” he said. “But I must do mine as well.”

He hit the man twice, fast and hard, with the flat of his hand; the poor fellow slumped to the floor. It happened before the other guard could so much as move.

Locke glared across at him. “Remove your friend,” he said, “or I will remove you both.”

“It means my life, Lord,” the man pleaded, eyes wide and desperate. He barred the way with his pike and raised his chin, then pressed his eyes shut. “If you please.”

Locke nodded. Then he hit him twice, too, and when he slid to the floor, Locke and I stepped over the bodies. We had gone well beyond the point of fooling around.

Dworkin had left the door unbarred, so we didn’t have to kick it in. Locke glanced over at me, then pushed it open and entered.

Our father sat with his head down on the table nearest us, snoring. Three large bottles sat before him. Two had been completely emptied, plus half of the third, I picked up the half bottle, sniffed once, set it down.