Trumps of Doom (25 page)

Little by little, the character of the wood was altered.
 
And the shifting grew easier and easier the farther this took me from Amber.

I began to pass sunny clearings.
 
The sky grew a paler blue .
 
.
 
.
 
The trees were all green now, but most of them saplings .
 
.
 
.

I broke into a jog.

Masses of clouds came into view, the spongy earth grew firmer, drier . .
 
.

I stepped up my pace, heading downhill.
 
Grasses were more abundant.
 
The trees were divided into clusters now, islands in a waving sea of those pale grasses.
 
My view took in a greater distance.
 
A flapping, beaded curtain off to my right: rain.

Rumbles of thunder came to me, though sunlight continued to light my way.
 
I breathed deeply of the clean damp air and ran on.

The grasses fell away, ground fissured, sky blackened .
 
.
 
.
 
Waters rushed through canyons and arroyos all about me .
 
.
 
.
 
Torrents poured from overhead onto the rocking terrain .
 
.
 
.

I began slipping.
 
I cursed each time I picked myself up, for my over-eagerness in the shifting.

The clouds parted like a theater curtain, to where a lemon sun poured warmth and light from a salmon-colored sky.
 
The thunder halted in mid-rumble and a wind rose .
 
.
 
.

I made my way up a hillside, looked down upon a ruined gage.
 
Long-abandoned, partly overgrown, strange mounds lined its broken main street.

I passed through it beneath a slate-colored sky, picked my way slowly across an icy pond, faces of those frozen beneath me staring sightlessly in all directions .
 
.
 
.

The sky was soot-streaked, the snow hard-packed, my breath feathery as I entered the skeletal wood where frozen birds perched: an etching.

Slipping downhill, rolling, sliding into melting and spring .
 
.
 
.

Movement again; about me .
 
.
 
.
 
Mucky ground and clumps of green .
 
.
 
.

Strange cars on distant highway .
 
.
 
.

A junkyard, smelling, oozing, rusting, smoldering .
 
.
 
.
 
Threading my way amid acres of heaps .
 
.
 
.
 
Rats scurrying...

Away .
 
.
 
.
 
Shifting faster, breathing harder .
 
.
 
.
 
Skyline beneath smog cap .
 
.
 
.
 
Delta bottom .
 
.
 
.
 
Seashore .
 
.
 
.
 
Golden pylons along the road .
 
.
 
.
 
Countryside with lakes .
 
.
 
.
 
Brown grasses beneath green sky .
 
.
 
.

Slowing .
 
.
 
.
 
Rolling grassland, river and lake .
 
.
 
.
 
Slowing .
 
.
 
.
 
Breeze and grass, sealike .
 
.
 
.
 
Mopping my brow on my sleeve .
 
.
 
.
 
Sucking air .
 
.
 
.
 
Walking now .
 
.
 
.

I moved through the field at a normal pace, preferring to do my resting in a congenial spot such as this, where I could see for a good distance.
 
The wind made soft noises as it passed among the’ grasses.
 
The nearest lake was a deep lime color.
 
Something in the air smelled sweet.

I thought I saw a brief flash of light off to my right, but when I looked that way there was nothing unusual to be seen.
 
A little later, I was certain that I heard a distant sound of hoofbeats.
 
But again, I saw nothing.
 
That’s the trouble with shadows-you don’t always know what’s natural there; you’re never certain what to look for.

Several minutes passed, and then I smelled it before I saw anything.

Smoke.
 
The next instant there was a rush of fire.
 
A long line of flame cut across my path.

And again the voice: “I told you to go back!”

The wind was behind the fire, pushing it toward me.
 
I turned to head away and saw that it was already flanking me.
 
It takes a while to build up the proper mental set for shadow-shifting, and I had let mine go.
 
I doubted I could set it up again in time.

I began running.

The line of flame was curving about me, as if to describe a huge circle.
 
I did not pause to admire the precision of the thing, however, as I could feel the heat by then and the smoke was getting thicker.

Above the fire’s crackling it seemed that I could still hear the drumming of hoofs.
 
My eyes were beginning to water, though, and streams of smoke further diminished my vision.
 
And again, I detected no sign of the person who had sprung the trap.

Yet-definitely-the ground was shaking with the rapid progress of a hooved creature headed in my direction.
 
The flames flashed higher, drew nearer as the circle coshed toward closure.

I was wondering what new menace was approaching, when a horse and rider burst into view through the gap in the fiery wall.
 
The rider drew back the reins, but the horse-a chestnut-was not too happy at the nearness of the flames it bared its teeth, biting at the bit, and tried several times to rear.

“Hurry! Behind me!” the rider cried, and I rushed to mount.

The rider was a dark-haired woman.
 
I caught only a glimpse of her features.
 
She managed to turn the horse back in the direction from which she had come, and she shook the reins.
 
The chestnut started forward, and suddenly it reared.
 
I managed to hang on.

When its front hooves struck the ground, the beast wheeled and tore off toward the light.
 
It was almost into the flames when it wheeled again.

“Damn!” I heard the rider say, as she worked almost frantically with the reins.

The horse turned again, neighing loudly.
 
Bloody spittle dripped from its mouth.
 
And by then the circle was closed, the smoke was heavy and the flames very near.
 
I was in no position to help, beyond giving it a pair of sharp kicks in the flanks when it began moving in a straight line again.

It plunged into the flames to our left, almost screaming as it went.
 
I had no idea how wide the band of fire was at that point.
 
I could feel a searing along my legs, though, and I smelled burning hair.

Then the beast was roaring again, the rider was screaming back at it, and I found that I could no longer hold on.
 
I felt myself sliding backward just as we broke through the ring of fire and into a charred, smoldering area where the flames had already passed.
 
I fell amid hot black clumps; ashes rose about me.
 
I rolled frantically to my left, and I coughed and squeezed my eyes shut against the cloud of ashes that assailed my face.

I heard the woman scream and I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my eyes.
 
My vision came clear in time for me to see the chestnut rising from where he had apparently fallen atop his rider.
 
The horse immediately tore off, to be lost among clouds of smoke.
 
The woman lay very still and I rushed to her side.
 
Kneeling, I brushed sparks from her clothing and checked for breathing and a pulse.
 
Her eyes opened while I was doing this.

“Back’s broken I think,” she said, coughing.
 
“Don’t feel-much.
 
.
 
.
 
.Escape-if you can.
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
Leave me.
 
I’ll die-anyway.”

“No way,” I said.
 
“But I’ve got to move you.
 
There’s a lake nearby, if I remember right.”

I removed my cloak where it was tied about my waist and I spread it out beside her.
 
I inched her onto it as carefully as I could, folded it over her to protect her against the flames and began dragging her in what I hoped was the proper direction.

We made it through a shifting patchwork of fire and smoke.
 
My throat was raw, my eyes watering steadily and my trousers on fire when I took a big step backward and felt my heel squish downward into mud.
 
I kept going.

Finally, I was waist deep in the water and supporting her there.
 
I leaned forward, pushed a flap of the cloak back from her face.
 
Her eyes were still open, but they looked unfocused and there was no movement.
 
Before I could feel for a carotid pulse, however, she made a hissing noise, then she spoke my name.

“Merlin,” she said hoarsely, “I’m-sorry-“

“You helped me and I couldn’t help you,” I said.
 
“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry I didn’t last-longer,” she continued.
 
“No good-with horses.
 
They’re-following you.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Called off - the dogs, though.
 
But the - fire - is someone - else’s.
 
Don’t know - whose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I splashed a little water onto her cheeks to cool them.
 
Between the soot and her singed, disheveled hair it was difficult to judge her appearance.

“Someone-behind-you,” she said, her voice growing fainter.
 
“Someone-ahead-too.
 
Didn’t-know-about that one.
 
Sorry.”

“Who?” I asked again.
 
“And who are you? How do you know me? Why-“

She smiled faintly.
 
“.
 
.
 
.
 
Sleep with you.
 
Can’t now.
 
Going .
 
.
 
.” Her eyes closed.

“No!” I cried.

Her face contorted and she sucked in a final breath.
 
She expelled it then, using it to form the whispered words.

“Just-let me-sink here.
 
G’bye .
 
.
 
.”

A cloud of smoke blew across her face.
 
I held my breath and shut my eyes as a larger billow followed, engulfing us.
 
When the air finally cleared again, I studied her.
 
Her breathing had ceased and there was no pulse, no heartbeat.
 
There was no non-burning, non-marshy area available for even an attempt at CPR.
 
She was gone.
 
She’d known she was going.

I wrapped my cloak about her carefully, turning it into a shroud.
 
Last of all, I folded a flap over her face.
 
I fixed everything into place with the clasp I’d used to close it at my neck when I’d worn it.
 
Then I waded out into deeper water.

“Just let me sink here.” Sometimes the dead sink quickly, sometimes they float .
 
.
 
.

“Good-bye, lady,” I said.
 
“Wish I knew your name.
 
Thanks again.”

I released my hold upon her.
 
The waters swirled.
 
She was gone.
 
After a time, I looked away then moved away.
 
Too many questions and no answers.

Somewhere, a maddened horse was screaming .
 
.
 
.

Several hours and many shadows later I rested again, in a place with a clear sky and not much tinder about.
 
I bathed in a shallow stream and afterward summoned fresh clothing out of Shadow.
 
Clean and dry then, I rested on the bank and made myself a meal.