23.   Scarlett.

 

The teatime with Ele started quite pleasantly, in spite of her strange new look and occasional drifting off into thoughtfulness.  She accepted most of the news I gave her without much in the way of response.  She also seemed not particularly concerned at my inability to contact mother after waking in the middle of the night with a feeling that something was dreadfully wrong in the universe.  But then, when I finally made my plea her reply was truly stunning.  Her suggestion that I should start off on my own and contact her later if anything went wrong was not very compassionate, but made sense enough.  It was the odd dreadful chill that overwhelmed me when she pronounced that her skill was not derived from an affinity with the Pattern, but from the fact that she was the Pattern!  I still struggled to catch my breath when the tea session ended a short time thereafter.  How to take it I don’t know.  She had changed a lot since I’d seen her last in the hospital.

 

I return to my room and try to work out what I need to do, as it’s pretty clear I’m on my own.  Without knowledge of the Keep of the Four Worlds, a Hellride would be pointless.  Although I’m sure Random had learned something of the place from talking to Merlin, I doubt he can tell me enough to make my journey a quick one.  How then to proceed?  Wait!  There is one besides mother who could likely help me.

 

I was still a young child when mother shown me the way to Dworkin’s quarters.  Just in case, she said and this appears to be the case indeed!  This was the last resort, and I didn’t really expect to find him there, but he was!  He greets me at the door as if he knew I was coming.  His body is bent, almost hunchbacked, as he waves me in and his ancientness overwhelms me.  There’s a twinkle in his eyes, however, and he’s unexpectedly lucid as we discuss the disturbance in the Universe.  I mention nothing of my meeting with Ele, and Dworkin mentions her not as well.  He tries to assuage my fears regarding my mother by saying he would likely know if something were amiss with one of his grandchildren.

 

Finally, the conversation becomes focused on the Keep of the Four Worlds.  Dworkin explains in great detail where it is in relationship to Amber, and the power that is associated with its location at the nexus of universal forces.  Then he pulls out an incredibly interesting trump, not his he quickly says – it was given to him by Merlin, who said it was likely drawn by cousin Rinaldo himself.  Life is a circle!  He offers me the trump as my ticket to mother.  I bid farewell to my Great-Grandfather and he wishes me luck. 

 

I try the Trump immediately after putting on my adventuring clothes, and collecting my gear, but nothing happens!  The problems with Trump travel are obviously worsening.  Another Hellride it will be then, and I’m sure that with Dworkin’s description I can now find the way.  Soon I’m at the stables, and my chestnut brown stallion is being prepared for the journey by a stable boy; he seems eager to get out of the stable.  I trust Flame!  He’s one of the best Shadow mounts ever to be bred in Amber.  Abruptly we’re on our way, and a few hours later, Mount Kolvir faint in the distance.  I’m far enough outside of Amber’s influence now to begin the slight changes in Shadow that are needed to get closer to my goal.  The Hellride goes better for me this time and, I feel, for Flame as well.  I think practice brings ease and economy when it comes to moving through Shadow.  The changes get more dramatic, the sky suddenly matching the one on the Trump of the Keep.

 

Suddenly, at the crest of the next stony ridge, I behold an awesome sight, and feel slight tremors from the earth below my feet!  Below me is the Keep of the Four Worlds, rising toward a swirling sky that is a patchwork of clouds and light, the light seemingly from no particular sun.  The tower-citadel is surrounded by high walls, an open gate being located slightly to the left of directly below me.  There are a half dozen or so guards at the gate.  Whirlwinds race across the flat plain between the guards and myself.  In the distance to the left is a vast raging sea, waves crashing onto a high cliff face. In the distance to the right, a mountain dominated by a massive, glistening glacier.  Behind the fortress I detect the iridescent glow of molten rock streaming down steep ravines.  The incredibly complex landscape drowns my senses until my mind is numb!

 

After a few brief moments, I shake my head and shrug my shoulders, and urge Flame down the steep, rocky hillside.  We ride quickly toward the gate in the high wall surrounding the Keep, careful to avoid the small tornadoes.  The guards spot me well before I’m in range to call out to them over the noise caused by the crashing sea and swirling wind.  Their movements indicate they’re preparing for battle while watching me closely.  They stand ready as I stop my mount before them and quickly climb down from Flame's back to the vibrating ground.

 

“I’m Princess Scarlett of Amber.  I’ve come to speak with my mother Fiona and Queen Jasra, who I call a friend.  Please take me to them!”  I command in a haughty voice.

 

“Not likely,” speaks one, perhaps the sergeant, as a seventh man walks out of the gates to join them.  “You’ll spend some time in the dungeon, until her majesty has time to sort you out.”

 

The newcomer has a fancier uniform, likely an officer, and soon he’s standing next to me as drawn weapons are before my chin, held by the rest of the guards.  I’m quite certain I could bring the guards down, but I remember Kashfa and my blade remains sheathed.  Instead, I lightly touch the officer's hand.  “As I’ve told these others, Sir, I’m a friend of Queen Jasra and I’m here to speak with my mother, Fiona of Amber.  Please take me to them!” I say softly and use a strong psyche attack to make the officer’s mind my own.

 

“Yes!” the officer speaks, “You’re to be taken to Queen Jasra at once.  I’ll take you myself.”

 

 The sergeant looks a bit perplexed and waves for two of the guards to follow us.  I keep things well under control as we approach an inner barrier.  I’d swear it’s one of those electric fences I’ve heard they have on Shadow Earth.  We approach the gap in the fence, also protected by a few guards.  At my mental command, the officer, whose hand I still hold, says, “Let us pass, I’ve orders to conduct this one to Queen Jasra.”

 

The leader of this new group of guards simply laughs.  “I don’t think so, Roland.  You see I know you well enough to know you’re not one to be holding a hand of a pretty girl, being rather fond of pretty boys as you’re.  I also know you’re a better officer than to conduct a guest to her majesty without first confiscating her sword.  Clearly something’s amiss, and you’re both under arrest.”

 

With that eight swords sing the song of steel, as they are unsheathed.  I throw the officer to the ground and my own blade flashes into the air, parrying away the soldiers weapons seemingly at once, and then its honed edge plunges downward on a mission of death.

 

“Please don’t,” the soft-spoken words come from a man, dressed in a fashion most likely of Shadow Earth origin, suddenly standing at the inner gate. 

 

My blade stops abruptly at, but not in, the lucky guard’s neck.  “Take me to Fiona of Amber at once, or Queen Jasra at least,” I command.

 

“Very well, hand your blade to the guards and follow me,” the man says quietly.

 

“I’ll gladly follow, but my blade remains with me!  After all, I’m alone here, and there’re too many armed men!” I retort, the blade still at the soldier’s neck.

 

“As you wish... for now,” the soft reply comes.  “You men remain at your posts.”  I’m led quickly into the building and not another word is spoken until I’m ushered into a room by the man, who has not yet identified himself.

 

“Hello, Scarlet!   So nice of you to stop by,” Jasra says in a jovial voice.  She looks as elegant as always and a little more rested.  If she’s surprised with my arrival she doesn’t show it at all, just as if neither of us had ever left Kashfa, and her smile is no less charming.

 

“Please sit down, Scarlett, make yourself comfortable,” she points toward one of the plush white leather sofas lining the walls.  The room’s furnishings are indistinguishable from those of corporate conference rooms that I’ve seen on television while on Shadow Earth.  What really startles me is that it’s lighted by large ceiling panels, doubtless electric, and also appears to be air-conditioned.

 

“This is Professor Wiggins,” she waves toward the silent man, “My chief of research.  But you must be tired after your trip, I shall send for some refreshments immediately.  What would you like, darling?” 

 

He wears a white coat over the shirt and tie so common to the middle class of Shadow Earth.  The man would obviously be blind without glasses with overthick lenses on his nose.  Apparently one of the scientist types that Uncle Bleys spoke of.  My neck crawls as he gawks at me with a silly grin on his face, saying nothing at all.  I return the favor by simply nodding at him as he’s introduced.  There’re more pressing matters on my mind.

 

“Jasra, where’s my mother?  Why she’s not here?”

 

She lowers her head sighing deeply and helplessly.  “I was going to contact you, believe me.  But I had to try to reverse it first.  Unfortunately I don’t think I can.  There’s no reason to be alarmed, Scarlett.  She’s in no immediate danger and we’ve plenty of time… but… there’s been an accident…” 

 

“Accident...” I repeat the last word.  I feel my face paling and then turning beet-red as emotions sweep through me like the wind through a rolling sea of tall grass.  “ACCIDENT?” I cry out.  “What sort of accident?  Answer at once or...or...or!  ANSWER!”  I pause shaking and reach down to my blade hilt, not quite touching it.  I stare into Jasra's eyes... my own filled with concern, fear, impatience, and resolve as I await her answer.

 

“There is no need for violence,” the man says softly.

 

“Yeah… there’s been too much already,” Jasra sighs even deeper.  “It’s kinda hard to explain, darling.  Perhaps I’d better show you.”  I follow Jasra who keeps talking on our way out of the room, out of the building and toward the old citadel across the yard.

 

“We’ve very nice brand new guest facilities, but your mother wished to stay in the old building.  She wanted to study the Black Fount.  Of course, I let her… but…  Once there was a man, a very evil man called Sharu Garrul, a sorcerer of considerable power.  I myself fought him twice and prevailed both times but in a very close contest.  The second time he ended up dead, but not completely, kinda an undead dead, yanno, and I made that creature a guardian of the fount, dwelling underground, passing through walls, floors and ceilings…  But that all was so long ago…  No one lived in the old building for years, we don’t even go there often… so I… I forgot completely…”

 

Two guards in full armor, Dalt’s emblem on their rectangular shields – the sacred Unicorn conquered and about to be devoured – open heavy iron-bound doors an then enter with us.  We’re in a large chamber with stairways to the right and left.  Two stairs curved inward, leading to another hall on the far side.  Two other stairs curved downward, to a hallway below and to the rear.  The central chamber is two stories high, dim light coming from bluish-glowing globes.  In the center there is a fountain, spewing flames of enormous energies into the air cascading down into its basin of the black stone.  The immense occult powers surging in the chamber could be easily felt, but what strikes me most is that the place looks like an enormous explosion has occurred in here.  The floor and the walls are blackened with layers of ashes and have large cracks in them.  A whole section of the ceiling came down and rests in the fount’s basin.

 

“I guess he surprised Fiona,” Jasra shakes her head sadly.  “But no need to worry of him any more.” She nods toward the white outline on the far wall as if a twisted silhouette with raised arms were etched into it.  “That’s all what’s left of him.  Yet… his final spell did get through.” Jasra sighs with even more grief pointing to what at first glance I took for a marble statue close to the fount.  I gasp, then, with tears in my eyes, I run to the stone figure of my mother. 

 

“We can’t even move her,” Jasra continues.  “It goes all the way under her too.  She’s not dead, but we can’t undo the spell without killing her first.  We all tried – me, Rinaldo, Mandor.  Then Mandor has brought Suhuy.  He couldn’t undo it either.  He said that by some weird and very unfortunate circumstance the spell had coincided with a large power surge in the fount and somehow resonated off it or something of that kind.  Suhuy also said that as a high degree of order was involved, only the Pattern itself could reverse the spell.  But we can’t even move her to take her there.  Believe me, I’ve never ever intended to harm your mother.”  She wipes genuine tears with a silken black strip of cloth.

 

Grief and hopelessness are mine to drown in as I behold my mother, now stone-tied to the depths of the earth itself, and thus not even movable.  I may have suffocated in that sorrow had not one phrase been spoken.  Only the Pattern itself…

 

My tears stop flowing abruptly.  “Take me immediately to my room,” I command, the words racing from my mouth.  “A room without the blue stone, for I need to make a Trump contact immediately with one who can help.  Leave a runner outside my door, for soon I and another guest will require your presence with us once again here.” 

 

From the tone of my voice it must be obvious that I wish no discussion of my plans.   Still, Jasra asks softly, “Contact who?  Who’s there left to help us?   Besides, I don’t think I can allow any tinkering with the Fount...”

 

“I care not for your Fount!” I reply, my hand once again drifting about the hilt of my blade.  “I know someone who can help, that’s all you need to know!   However, I give you my word that neither I nor Elektra will fiddle with your Fount, at least unless there’s no other way to restore my mother.” 

 

Jasra glares back incredulously, yet fidgeting slightly at the downward drift of my sword arm.  “Elektra?  What can that witch do?   This is my domain...  I forbid her presence here!”

 

“Witch... not likely.  Well maybe she’s a witch of sorts... if not an incarnation of the Pattern itself.  That’s why I need her.  No... why we need her!” I reply softly and then continue in my most threatening tone.  “Now, remember that you’re responsible for all this, because you did forget about your deadly guardian, and help me make this right!  Or I will gut these lackeys of Dalt, then cut the throat of your technical dolt, and, if need be, my blade will begin to whittle off pieces of you yourself!”

 

Resolve fills my eyes as I flare at Jasra, waiting for her answer, and for fate.  The man from Shadow Earth wets his pants.

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