John Betancourt - The Dawn of Amber

“I guess it’s just to be the two of us,” I said. I gave her a smile, but she didn’t look up.

With a slight lurch, the carriage began to move forward. It took me a moment to realize the wheels weren’t clattering over the cobblestones. From the smoothness of the ride, we might have been gliding a foot above them. It had been a night of sufficient wonders that I didn’t even question it.

Instead, my attention focused on the woman opposite me—Freda, as Dworkin had called her—who seemed intent on ignoring my presence. With deft hands she gathered her cards, shuffled them again, and began methodically turning them over once more, this time forming a circle on the table. She didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in me, Kingstown, or the hell-creatures we had just slain.

“I’m Obere,” I told her, “not Oberon.” Maybe we simply needed an introduction to get off on the right foot.

“Oberon is your proper name,” she said, still without looking up. “Things must be done properly. I am Freda.”

“I know,” I said. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Yes, you are, dear boy.”

“You see that in the cards?”

“No, in you, brother Oberon.” She smiled enigmatically, eyes glistening behind long black lashes.

I could play that coy game, too.

Almost teasing, I said, “What man wouldn’t be?”

“Indeed,” she said solemnly.

“Why are you here?”

“Father does not like to travel alone, and I thought I might be able to help, in my own small way.”

“I don’t think he needs help from anyone.”

“He does from me.”

Chuckling to myself, I leaned back. Clearly she thought a little too highly of herself. Dworkin’s daughter? Of that there could be no doubt. Apparently hubris was a family trait. I found it more annoying than endearing, however.

I glanced out the little window to my left. To my surprise, what appeared to be daylight glimmered through the lace curtain. Had dawn already broken? How long had we been riding in the carriage? It should have been at least three or four more hours till first light, by my reckoning.

I swept back the curtain and sure enough, the sun greeted me. Low in the sky, it cast a reddish-gold glow across acres of neatly plowed fields. It shouldn’t have been there yet, my every sense told me. Had I fallen asleep and not realized it?

No, I thought, shaking my head, that didn’t seem possible. I had been awake the whole time. We had just set off from Kingstown a few moments ago… hadn’t we?

I rubbed my eyes and, when I took my hand away, suddenly it was night again. I couldn’t see anything outside the carriage for the blackness. Even the stars and moon were absent, hidden behind clouds.

I let the curtains drop. Just my mind playing tricks on me, I realized. I had been awake too long. Of course it wasn’t daytime yet. We couldn’t be more than a mile or two from Kingstown.

Leaning back, I noticed a faint light outside through the curtain. Dawn? Again? Impossible!

Pushing back the lace curtains a second time, I stuck my head close to the window’s glass,

No, not dawn… the clouds had parted, and the moon shone down, full and bright, set against a glittering diamond field of stars. By their glow, we sped down a coastal highway, rolling faster than the fastest horse could gallop.

Faintly, I could see gentle dunes spotted with clumps of marsh grass. Beyond the dunes lay a pale ribbon of beach where small waves lapped.

Only… we should not have been here. The carriage had taken the south road out of Kingstown, which led to twenty miles of verdant farmlands and then fifty miles of ancient, overgrown forests. This horseless carriage moved quickly, but the nearest beach lay at least four days’ hard ride from Kingstown. Over the years, I had surveyed the entire length of Ilerium’s coast—and in all that time, I had never seen this beach before. I felt certain of it. So where were we? How had we gotten here?

Magic, I thought uneasily. It seemed the only explanation.

I unlatched the window and pushed it open, breathing deeply of the smells of salt and brine. Far off, an owl screeched. The waves shushed against the sand.

It was real, not some dream or vision. We really were on the coast now… a strange coast not anywhere I knew in Ilerium.

The sky began to grow lighter. The highway turned inland, now cutting through dense sun-bleached grasses whose pale heads rose higher than our carriage. Luminous clouds roiled in the sky, and lightning began to strike all around us. I saw flames shooting through the grass and realized they were dry enough to quickly catch fire. Unless the clouds let loose torrents of rain, and fast, those fires would soon be burning out of control. I knew how fast fires could spread, but somehow, riding in this carriage, I felt perfectly safe. Dworkin’s magic would speed us away.

Still the carriage rolled on, faster and faster, leaving the fires behind. The daylight slowly increased, grayish and diffuse now, revealing a drab countryside. Scrub trees replaced the tall grass, dwarf oaks and oddly twisted pines. The carriage turned, climbing sudden hills, then entered a forest of pines, which in turn gave way to more farmlands.

Lightning continued to flash above. The clouds continued to boil and seethe, and the air grew hot and sticky, but no rain fell. I spotted a few small stone houses with thatched roofs among the fields, but no sign of people or animals anywhere… they had probably taken cover to avoid the coming storm.

Peering ahead, I spotted a town of perhaps twenty or thirty low stone buildings just now coming into view. As we rolled through, slowing slightly, men and women dressed in black from head to toe came rushing out from every doorway. All carried swords or knives or axes. Their faces were drawn and pale, and their mouths opened wide to show needlelike teeth and forked tongues.

A thrown axe whizzed by my head, hit the side of the carriage, and bounced off—much too close for comfort. Gulping, I ducked back inside, peering at them from behind the curtain and the relative safety of the coach’s interior. Although they weren’t hell-creatures, from their reception, they might as well have been. Whether they wanted to eat us or sacrifice us to some dark god, I couldn’t begin to guess. I wouldn’t want to pass through here alone and unarmed, I decided with a shiver. And what of Dworkin? If they hit him with an axe—

They gave chase for a few minutes, but Dworkin’s carriage outpaced them, and they, too, fell behind in the distance.

The trees around us had begun to grow taller, darker, and more foreboding by the minute. I found myself leaning closer and closer to the window to see. Streamers of a sickly yellow moss and tangled masses of prickly vines draped every branch. Immense bats hung from every available perch by the thousands, and as we passed, they began to open little red eyes and flex leathery wings.

I liked this place less and less the farther we went. Where could Dworkin possibly be taking us? I hadn’t minded the coast road, but though I considered myself a brave man, the town and now this forest both sent shivers through me.

Suddenly the bats began to make screechy, chittering noises that sounded altogether too much like kill— kill- kill. They all seemed to be staring hungrily at us now, though none made any move to attack.

I wasn’t going to take any chances, though. This time I closed the window and snapped the latch securely. No sense giving them any path inside—though if they decided to attack Dworkin where he rode on top, I didn’t know how I’d be able to help him.

Slowly, I fingered the hilt of the knife in my belt, wondering if I should draw it and trying at the same time not to alarm Freda. No sense in worrying her unnecessarily, I thought.