John Betancourt - The Dawn of Amber

Had I stepped forward, I would have passed through to safety. Kingstown and Ilerium lay within my reach.

Dworkin’s hand abruptly covered the picture. Blinking, I stood before him again.

“It worked!” he said, and I heard the awe in his voice. “We can leave!”

“Make more Trumps,” I told him, “for five distant Shadows, places where everyone will be safe. We’ll send everyone through, scatter the family to places our enemies will never find them.”

“Why separate?” he asked. “Surely together…”

“We still have a traitor among us,” I reminded him. “I don’t know who it is. But if only you and I know where everyone has gone, they will be safe. I think that’s how they found us here.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling now, his confidence returning. “A good plan. Freda and Pella can go together. Conner and Titus. Blaise and Isadora. Syara and Leona. Fenn and Aber. No one will be able to track them if they stay away from the Logrus…”

“Exactly.”

“You and I will go last,” he went on, eyes distant, envisioning some special Shadow. “We must work on mastering the pattern within you… for that is where our future hopes must rest.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.” I rose and clasped his shoulder. “Be strong for now. We’ll win. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I never had any doubts.” He smiled up at me.

Then I went to find the rest of our family. We had a castle to abandon.

With everyone living on the ground floor, I didn’t think it would take long to find all my brothers and sisters. I found Aber waiting impatiently outside Dworkin’s rooms.

“Well?” he demanded.

“Well what?”

“From the way you went racing in there, I thought something had happened. Did it?”

I shook my head. “Actually, we have come up with a plan. I think it’s going to work, too.”

“Great! Tell me about it. What can I do to help?”

“We have to find everyone first.”

“I just saw Freda and Pella in the kitchens,” he said.

“Fetch them. I’ll see who else I can find.”

We split up. I headed for the dining hall, and there I found Blaise, Titus, and Conner seated at the long table—now pushing up against the far wall. A cold supper of roast chicken, grilled vegetables, and what looked like meat pudding sat before them.

They grew silent the second I walked in, and from their guilty expressions, I knew they had been talking about me.

Well, let them. I had nothing to hide. And it looked very much like I’d be their savior.

“What news?” Conner asked after a few awkward seconds.

I said, “Our father has come up with a plan. He wants to see everyone in his workshop. Right now.”

“It’s about time,” Blaise said, throwing down her napkin and standing. “What is he up to?”

“Later,” I said, “when everyone gets there. Do you know where anyone else is?”

Blaise hesitated.

“Tell me! “I said.

“It’s Fenn and Isadora,” Conner said suddenly. “They aren’t here.”

“What!” I stared at the three of them. “Don’t tell me they’re trying to slip past the hell-creatures—”

“No,” Blaise said. “They left three days ago by Trump. Just before the problems started. They went for help. We weren’t supposed to tell anyone… they swore us to secrecy.”

I cursed. They might be dead or captured. Then a worse thought struck. Had we just found our traitor—or should I say, traitors?

“Do you know where they went?” I asked.

“It’s Locke’s fault,” Titus exclaimed. “He put them up to something.”

“They didn’t say,” Blaise said. “We were just supposed to cover for them.”

“Fenn called it a secret mission,” Conner added.

“And none of you has the slightest idea what it was?”

“That’s right,” Blaise said.

I sighed. Well, perhaps it made things simpler. Two less bodies to save. Two less possible complications to our escape.

“All right,” I said. “Go join our father. I still have to find Leona and Syara.”

“I think they’re still in the audience hall,” Blaise said.

“Thanks.” I nodded. “I’ll check there first.”

I watched them go, then hurried to the audience hall. Sure enough, I found Leona and Syara helping tend to wounded soldiers. Some of the more grievously injured had been brought here from the battlefields.

“Father wants to see us all,” I said, drawing them aside. “Leave them to the physicians.”

They hesitated a second, looking at the injured and dying. Clearly they didn’t want to leave their charges.

“It’s very important.” I linked my arms through theirs and gently steered them toward the door. “I’m not allowed to take ‘No’ for an answer.”

“Very well,” Syara said with a sigh. “But there are men dying here.”

“Dad has a plan,” I said. “He needs us all there.”

At that, they gave in and let me lead them back to our father’s workshop.

The door stood open. I brought them inside, counting heads. Yes, everyone had come. They clustered around Dworkin, chattering happily, asking questions which he answered with knowing smiles.

“Ah,” he said. “Here is Oberon. Ready, my boy?”

“Yes.” I shut and barred the door.

“What’s this plan?” Conner asked me.

Everyone echoed his sentiments.

“Are you done with the Trumps?” I asked Dworkin.

“Yes.”

“We’re leaving,” I told my brothers and sisters. “We’re going to split up—head to different Shadows. I want you all to stay there at least a year or two. Do nothing involving the Logrus. Let’s see if we can’t outlast our enemies.”

“But the Trumps—” Freda began.

“We now have a few that work,” I told her. “That’s all you need to know for the moment.”

She still looked upset, so I added, “It’s for everyone’s safety. We’re going to pair up. None of you will know where the other groups have gone. Hopefully, you’ll all be safe.”

“Who is first?” Dworkin asked.

“Leona and Syara,” I said. They stood closest to me. “Give me the first Trump,” I said to our father.

He passed me a card. I held it up, staring at it, feeling the power of the image as it sprang to life.

A placid lake, swans swimming, sailboats racing across the water. Beyond the water rose a golden-hued city, its bridges and towers like spun glass. My sisters would be happy here, I thought.

I pushed them through, saw them on the other side staring back at me with startled expressions—and then they were gone.

I held a crumpled card in my hand. Silently, I passed it to Dworkin, who thrust it into a candle’s flame. It caught fire like well-seasoned tinder, burning brightly and rapidly. He dropped it to the stone floor, where it slowly turned to ash.

“Next,” I said. “Conner and Titus.”

They stepped forward, and as before, our father passed me one of his new Trumps. I held it up, concentrating on the image.

This scene showed a busy street in a bustling city. Men on horseback, tall buildings, shops selling arms and armor—the perfect place for two young men to lose themselves in adventures.

As the sights and smells and textures of this city leaped to life, I pushed my brothers through. As before, I crumpled the Trump in my hand, and they were gone.

Dworkin burned it, too.

“Freda and Pella,” I said.

“Pick us a nice world, Father,” Freda said in a soft tone.

He smiled at her lovingly, then passed me another Trump. I gazed at it.

A winter palace, with snow falling. White horses decked in bells and ribbons. Twin statues of Freda and Pella being worshipped as goddesses.