[FFML] [Amber]Dog of War

[Miashara]

The book of Amber was created by Roger Zelazney. It's fantastic. 

This is the final segment of Dog of War, wherein all is explained, foul villians dealt with, and all connections to the original series explained. Play the game, and count how much of this you were able to figure out on your own. 

Miashara

http://www.deepfriedpuppies.com/miashara

The sun rose on me as I walked far from the city along roads that lead
between infrequent farms and dark valleys. Trees of immense girth and
age stood among the forests keeping a sentinel's watch on the small
birches. A few people met me on the road, some of a most unsavory
appearance. I firmly dissuaded them from their attentions and kept
moving.

Shortly after moon rise the image of Oman no longer matched up with the
road before me. I turned aside onto a near invisible track unused for
years that twisted into the bracken along the road. Roots broke up the
path, making stairs and pits. Several thorn bushes completely blocked it
with long stems covered in sharp points. There was always a hole that
could be climbed through or a branch that offered support over every
obstacle. Oman led me to it.

In the end a wide meadow, empty and forgotten, held only the end of the
trail and a dilapidated hut. I stumbled around to an open wall and went
in.

There was not much to be found. Fresh beer bottles littered the floor,
perhaps a week old. The dirt had been scraped and moved then, several
sets of footprints were stamped around a table, and some refuse lay in
the corners. There was a deck of cards on the table and three hands
discarded negligently. A fourth, all aces, lay scattered about the
floor. Three chairs were pushed back, and one had tipped over.

Out of impulse I checked the other hands. I had been winning. C'est la
vie.

I righted the fallen chair and sank into it. Now all that was left was
the simple matter of retracing my steps. That there was a way I was
sure. There would be no point in the magic bringing me here otherwise. I
stared around for a little while, then retrieved my cards and turned
back around to face the table. I had been sitting like so and gazing at
my hand. For some reason I couldn't see a thing now.

I glanced over my shoulder at the sky. A cloud was blocking the moon,
and again the world was plunged into total darkness. Except for Oman,
who stood deep within the ground behind me. Without thinking I put my
foot on the table and kicked hard. I  fell backwards, dropping aces, out
of my chair and rolled once before the floor seemed to turn mushy under
me and I was falling. Again I was in a hole through moving lights, only
now Oman raced away before me. The journey was not long. The landing was
hard and painful, but when I sat up, carefully staying below the grass
line, everything was familiar again.

Breaking into a castle is very difficult. That's the point of having a
castle. Sneaking in alone is easy. The initial stage, climbing the outer
wall in the dark, had a certain element of danger to it, but under the
circumstances that did not bother me. The guards who patrolled the walls
were bored and cold. The polite thing to do was not bother them. I
descended a stairway and crept down to the great furnace, now banked,
where I intended to pay a visit to my friend.

Oman was at work tending the roaring fire and whittling. I crept up
behind him, grabbed him by the throat, and screamed bloody murder. He
twisted in my grasp so he could see me and fainted dead away. Amused, I
sat him down and slapped him until he woke up.

"You spoke about me, Oman. You remember the price of that. Are you ready
to die?"

He looked up at me, no longer scared. He didn't cry or beg, but in a sad
tragic voice replied, "No. I have so much left to do."

I was bound by the magic to kill him. That was clear to me. It was an
impulse in my bones that buzzed like a swarm of bees. My teeth ached
with it.

"Oman, there is only one person with the power to cancel the magic that
binds us. Fiera. Take me to her, or you will die as surely as you betray
me."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I will cast you into the fire as once you intended to cast me."

That is what some refer to as an offer you cannot refuse. Within moments
we were walking purposefully along the shadowy underground corridors
that make up so much of the castle's living space. In the dark no one
glanced at us twice. I walked beside Oman and made light conversation,
part to support the disguise, part because I wanted to be able to make
sure he was not signaling anyone.

"How long has she been here?"

"Almost three weeks. A week ago Lord Orpheus ordered her cell door
walled up, and only a small hole allowed so that she could be watched.
She's not been fed or allowed water in that time, though she drinks from
the pools where the damp sweat of the walls collects."

"You seem well informed."

"I was the one who bricked up her cell."

I think when he said that he expected me to kill him. Instead I started
laughing. "Oh, that's rich. I bet she'll be delighted to see you."

He looked at me askance out of the corner of his eye.

"Lady Fiera no doubt deserves whatever she gets. Feel no guilt about
that. Besides, I don't like her that much. Hopefully some time in the
dark has taught her humility."

We arrived at an oaken door. "Within this room are the two guards who
watch her day and night. There are always two, one to keep watch and
another to run for help," he told me.

"Good. Wait right here."

"What are you going to do?"

"Black magic," I replied. This time he didn't argue.

I swung the door in and walked through calmly. Two men glanced over at
me with uninterested stares.

"Evening, gentlemen. How is she?"

"Hungry," one replied. He sat on a stool by the wall where an arch of
fresh brick work still had fresh mortar. One brick was absent, and this
was at eye level with him. The other was seated at a table, but he was
already dozing off again.

"I can imagine."

He looked at me curiously, trying to remember my name. I projected an
air of mild curiosity and distant friendship, which was enough for him
to spend a few heartbeats trying to decide if he knew me before he
called for help. Too late he asked, "Who are you again?" for I was then
within arm's reach.

"Havok," I replied cheerfully as I grabbed the front of his leather
jerkin. I twisted and heaved him across the floor, over the table, and
face first into his companion. They crashed to the floor with the crack
of bone on bone and then on stone. "Oman, come in and shut the door."

I strolled over to the other two. They were making noises by then, and I
stopped standing above them with my hands on my hips. "Gentlemen. You
can stay down and be quiet, or I can beat you down and silence you.
Which is it?"

They froze. "

"Splendid. Take off your armor and weapons, lock yourselves in a cell,
and remember that as long as you don't make noise, I have no reason to
kill you."

There's a fantastic advantage to intimidating people in being a demon.
It took them each a moment to get up and move, but they did everything I
asked without a word of complaint. "Good morning, Lady Fiona." I glanced
in the window at her. She was awake and standing. Her manacles were
short and did not look like they allowed her to lie down or even sit.
She looked weary, physically beaten, but in here eyes was a terrible
fury that pleasantly matched my own. I smiled at her. "You've never
looked better, dear. Now, this is Oman. He's going to free you. In
exchange, you're going to to sever the spell I have on him and leave him
free to go. Fair?"

"Yes." Rocks shatter under such a tone.

"Get to work," I told him. I returned my attention to her. "Now, I'm
going to go pay Orpheus a visit. Tell me everything you know about him.
Before you decide what to tell and what to hold back, know that Orpheus
is better than me with a sword, he knows I'm coming, and unless you give
me a serious advantage, the rest of your short life is going to be spent
right here."

She had clearly already considered this option. She began speaking
immediately. "Orpheus' real name is Osric. He's my oldest brother. We
are both children of Oberon, King of Amber. Osric is either making or
preparing to make a play for the throne of Amber, and I'm here to stop
him. Everyone else in Amber thinks he's been dead for years, and now I
have no means of getting help."

I nodded. While she talked I picked up the one of the guards's weapons
belt. There was both a sword and a gun, and I belted it on while
listening.

"Osric has done something to this place that I've never seen before.
He's filled every bit of dirt, every blade of grass, and every person
here with the image of the Pattern that's inscribed within him. I cannot
imagine how he did so, but if time here flows like I expect he's had
thousands of years to do it. This entire shadow is his plaything, and no
doubt he can manipulate it like a doll house."

"He can move walls and doors?"

"He can throw the sun at you."

"Splendid. What are his weaknesses?"

"While his mastery of the Pattern is unmatched here, you were made from
the Logrus. It's the opposing force. You will be immune to direct
influence of his powers in ways I'm not. In addition, I built you as an
experiment in immortality. As you've noticed, you're virtually
unkillable. You should be able to survive anything he does to you."

"But he can entrap me and tie me up, and throw me into the sea."

"That's your one weakness."

"What about fire?"

"Fire isn't your weakness. It's your greatest strength. When the power
of the Pattern confronts you in the presence of flame, the Logrus
automatically flares up as well to fight it. That increases all of your
abilities."

"Then why does it terrify me?"

"Because I made you that way. It's a measure of control I instilled at
your creation."

"Wonderful," I deadpanned. "And I think you're lying. A day ago I burned
to death."

"That was in a normal shadow. That was normal fire. Here in the presence
of the Pattern of Amber fire is merely a gateway to you."

I still thought she was feeding me a heaping pile, but I neglected that
for the moment. "By the way, what happened the last time I shot someone?
The bullet came out moving like molasses, but they zinged around right
quick when aimed at my head."

"I have no idea."

"Hey, Oman. Do you know?"

He refused to meet my eyes. I paused and faced him. "Oman, don't make me
do something horrific to you."

"It's the sunlight. During the day bullets move like lightening, but at
night they creep through the air."

"Ain't that some shit," I observed. I locked and loaded the weapon on my
hip just to be thorough, though it was still hours to daylight.

"He knows you're here," Fiona interjected suddenly. "I can feel him
summoning his powers."

"Then it's time for me to get down to business. Now, excuse me lady and
gentleman, but I've got work to do."

"Go, Havok!" cried Fiona and loosed the dog of war.

There's a peculiar feeling inherent to being an immortal going to kill a
god. Most of the time we aren't aware of these sensations, except in
comparison, but as I trotted out the door and moved into a run, I was
intensely aware of it. It was terrible exhilaration mixed with
confidence and utter hopelessness. It was profoundly exciting.

I moved down a tunnel, juked around pair of bewildered servants, and
climbed a set of stairs mostly by bouncing off the walls. The sooner I
got to him the sooner his more absurdly overt forms of attack would be
unaccessible. At the landing on the ground floor was a thick door that
lead me to a little used back hallway. At the end of that was a heavy
door that opened into a empty granary. I listened carefully before I
shut it. The servants I had passed on the stairs were shouting. They
were echoed by others, and in the courtyard outside a veritable horde of
them were hollering about. They would find me soon.

I went through the wattle and daub wall at a dead sprint. The guards
whirled as I ran past and drew their guns, firing at me. Each time the
pistols cracked I expected to feel something but didn't. Unhurt I
reached the edge of the courtyard and crashed shoulder first into a
door.

It splintered but the lock held. I looked behind me. There was a
veritable cornucopia of slow moving bullets, meandering towards me. The
guards kept on firing, and muzzle flashes from various high
windows augmented them. I kicked the door twice more, hard, and it
finally broke in.

The very first ray of sunlight came over distant mountains, past the
high keep walls, and bent most unusually down to bathe the dozens of
airborne projectiles in their stately movement. Kicking the door had
turned my face towards the oncoming bullets, and I could see each one
glow brilliantly in the new dawn.

"Oh, no." I dove through the door.

Over fifty pounds of lead came after me. I hit and rolled, as the
barrage destroyed the servant's quarters, shattering every bit of
furniture, the walls, and most of the floor. Those rounds that didn't
become stuck bounced airborne and paused, slowly rotating until every
single one of them was facing me again.

"Oh, no."

I smashed through the floor as the barrage came hunting me. I ran
through the nameless room I landed in, dove over a table, and received a
split second glance as the table simply exploded from combined
gunfire. Before I made it out the next door, the wall I was intending to
hide behind ceased to exist in any kind of meaningful way, and debris
came crashing down. Some rocks hit my head and chest, and I fell under
them. Above me the ceiling creaked disturbingly.

The building collapsed.

A ceiling beam splintered and one broken end hit the floor next to me.
It gave way, and I dropped to a lower level of the castle, more rocks, a
few plates, and a beautiful still life coming down with me as the floors
above began to disintegrate. A bullet found me and shot through my butt.
I was running down an underground passage, being chased by the
continuing avalanche of debris, when the tunnel branched, and I made a
hard left. The collapse followed.

"No!" I refused. A wooden beam a foot across flew out of the rubble and
hit me dead in the chest. I crashed through another wall and rolled,
listening to the snap and crackle of my ribs.

The ceiling groaned and shook, bulging cancerously above me, but held.
Out the hole the sounds of falling rubble were suddenly silent. A very
eerie silence had descended.

My hands felt kind of sticky. I looked down and realized the wooden beam
had completely staved in my chest, and I was able to witness a number of
my vital organs that normally did their business in privacy. Sticks and
stones had broken my bones and my heart.

Words cannot describe how much that hurt.

I unimpaled myself and stood up. The ceiling would not hold much longer,
so I found a side door and stumbled through it. Behind me, the pile of
rubble extended up into the sunlight. Luckily, all of the
gunfire seemed to be trapped in the pile.

A stairway led to the courtyard. The occupants of castle Orpheus were
gathered at the center in a panicky crowd. Everyone stayed as far from
the walls and houses as they could. Only one of the buildings, a guard
hall and storage facility, had collapsed. A bit of the debris pile
poked above the surface. The earth might as well have swallowed the
building and belched.

Back inside, I leaned against a wall and thought. That earthquake had
been as natural as my ability to keep walking and a good deal more
dangerous. Osric had been nowhere to be seen before and was still
missing, which meant he had something to do with it. This sort of thing
could not happen too often.

My balance was returning with each step, so I kept walking. If Osric
knew I was alive, he would be waiting. I wasn't sure if anything could
permanently kill me, and I doubted he did either. If so, he would have
done it. All I needed was a steady, relentless attack, and sooner or
later he would die. Unless he had the same kind of durability I did.

I considered that. It would certainly be the first I did if I had been
in his position.

I came around a corner and met a party of guards, walking slowly and
checking for the injured. They froze when they saw me, staring at my
blood trail.

"Where's Orpheus?"

Two of the four screamed and bolted. The others drew their weapons and
yelled at me to stop.

"Put those away," I ordered. "They won't do you any good, and I have no
desire to kill you."

"How do you live?" one whispered. The other was backing up, staring
about with wild eyes.

"I don't. Now take me to Orpheus."

The guard looked at me carefully then slowly drew his weapon. His face
shifted from fear to certainty, and he stepped deliberately to the
center of the hallway. "No, demon. I won't let you kill anyone else."

"Don't be an ass," I spat. "I haven't killed anyone at all."

"A few weeks ago you slew Orpheus' personal guard."

"No, I didn't. I hit him in the kidney. He'll be pissing blood for a few
days and that's it."

"You brought down the building-"

"I was in the building! Why would I bring it down atop me? I didn't kill
you, I didn't kill any of your friends, and even when I was in a pitched
fight with your boss, all I did was break a few legs and fingers. Now
take me to him."

"Lies, demon!" Someone yelled behind me. I swayed, let the sword go by,
and snatched my own sword out. The hilt hit his skull. Both of the
guards who had fled earlier were there, one crumpling to the
ground and the other lunging. With my free hand I caught his sword and
stomped on his knee. The guard I had been talking to stabbed me in the
back.

I went down, but I took his sword with me. I pulled it out of my guts
and swung from the ground, making the guard back off. His panicky friend
had walked back, and the two of them stood about ten feet away. His
friend had drawn his own sword, but I had both weapons at the ready.

"Even now I haven't killed them. Don't do it, because I will not stop
and when I do come back I will return a murderer as surely as I've let
everyone else live."

They looked at me and looked at their two fallen allies. One was lying
in a heap, bleeding from the temple, and snoring. The other had dragged
himself away, his leg twisted so his toes pointed backwards. I was alone
in the center of the hallway.

"Men, back away."

They turned. Osric, retinue in tow, was coming down the corridor. They
sighed in relief and backed up, letting their lord pass. He stopped in
front of me, within sword range if I overextended myself.

"Well, demon, you still breathe."

"Not really," I replied. I pulled aside the shirt and let him see the
ruins of my chest. Osric watched me stone-faced, but his men turned
white and one fled.

"You look terrible," he observed.

"Nice face."

Osric tried to scowl. It further distorted his crooked nose, which bent
sideways across his face like a dirty paint smear.

"I was wondering why I couldn't find your heartbeat." He turned and
waved off his men. "All of you, return to the courtyard and watch my
people. You are no help here, and I will not have your lives thrown
away."

They obeyed without question or argument. From the suicidal way they'd
interfered with me before, I assumed it was more training than
cowardice. I limbed to my feet.

"That's how you found me? My heartbeat?"

"The sound and the fury," Osric stepped back out of range. I hadn't
taken the bait. He seemed to have all the advantages, except I still
wasn't dead and he treated me like the unknown menace I was.

"Your men don't know you're a magus, do they? You've carefully kept it
hidden and now you anticipate that magic is the only thing that will
bring me down."

"No," he replied seriously. "Magic is only one way to bring you down."
We circled once, eying each other for openings. A man with two swords
and no fear of injury is a powerful defensive opponent, and Osric knew
it. It showed in the way he walked and his steady, low sword point. On
the other hand, Osric was that good. He backed me into the great hall, a
towering room with vaulted ceilings and wide open spaces. It was perfect
for a duel. We traded a few exploratory strokes, and then I realized
he'd backed me to the vast hearth that still flamed and provided us with
warmth. I had nowhere to run.

"So what are you going to do? Waste more time?"

"Havok, I've given the matter of you a great deal of thought. You're
simply too useful to be destroyed. You will work for me now."

"A few days ago I would have asked about your offer. But it's too little
too late."

"Oh no, you naive fool. It wasn't an offer."

"What are you going to do? Talk me to death?" I was actually curious.

"No. Remember, nothing's struck your head yet."

By the time I realized what he meant he had caught my gaze. The will of
a Prince of Amber is a powerful weapon, and he flooded my mind like a
tide. It made sense, of course. Fiona would have left safeguards in me
to insure her ability to control me. She had tried before. Osric simply
began accessing them, and using the incredible power of his mind to
shear through my mental defenses like a scythe. There was one thing he
neglected to consider.

"Death first," I snapped, dropped a sword and snatched the pistol from
my belt. The sunlight poured through the grand windows, for he had bid
the sun rise. Before he could disengage from my mind I put the barrel to
my temple and pulled the trigger.

As I blasted my brains out the recoil knocked me back, and I fell into
the great fire. That awoke me in a hurry. I howled once and rolled from
the hearth. My skin burned. The innumerable open gashes that covered my
body spouted flames like spigots. My head was an inferno, and the
acetylene jet that burst from my skull hissed as it burned white hot.
Osric staggered back, for his connection to me had shared all of my
pain.

I leapt at him. He parried once, wildly, and I swept my sword up and
under his, flicking the hot metal at his face while a cloak of blood and
fire swept back from my shoulders. Steel clashed in the hall.
"Havok! Face!" he finally yelled, and I can only guess what horrors he
saw. He made a mistake, and I cut his arm. He made another, and I struck
him in the knees. I had the initiative. Osric's incredible skill fled
him, as he completely lost his ability to function confronted with
someone like me. He was just not prepared to fight anyone willing to
sacrifice himself as I was. Our match turned short, nasty, and brutal,
and I beat him down with fists and blades.

The End
Again.
Epilogue 2

"And Random on drums!" the announcer roared, the crowd went wild, and
King Random of Amber proceeded to rock out in royal fashion. I was
beside him, wailing on an acoustic guitar, and the two of us stopped
paying attention the audience. Not hard, because the audience was
imaginary anyway. So was the announcer. Our stage was a raised platform
towards the back of the Royal Library and occasionally a servant or
noble would wander in, but the performance held little interest for
them. We enjoyed it immensely.

Ultimately the beat slowed until he was picking out paradiddles on the
toms while I poked around in a minor key. I asked, "So what did you do
with him?"

"For now he's locked up in the basement. Fiona's in charge of his
keeping, and she's very attentive. I haven't figured out a permanent
solution yet."

"One springs to mind."

"One I'm surprised you didn't take when you had the chance."

He looked up at me, with a penetrating stare that was part royalty and
part Random. I shrugged and wrung a questioning note from the guitar. "I
don't like killing people. It always seems so unfair."

Random snorted. "I have a brother who would make some very disparaging
comments about anyone who tries to make combat fair."

I shrugged again, and we played for a while. "It's because he couldn't
do anything back. He couldn't kill me, and he couldn't attack my mind,
and he certainly couldn't hurt me any more. Finally when I saw the
chance to knock him out I did. I was just sick of him, sick of the
scheming and the plotting. I wanted everything to be done."

"Trust me, I know exactly how you feel."

He shot me a conspiratorial grin I returned. We picked up the beat and
started a faster, merrier tune.

"Did Fiona ever explain what she meant when she said he had taken over
the world and written his version of the Pattern on it?"

"She did. And then she tried to explain the explanation, and I decided
to let it drop. As far as I can tell, Osric stamped the version of the
Pattern he bears within himself on the people of the shadow. They in
turn pass it along in the air they breathe, the fields they plant, and
the children they father. Anything they touch is an extension of his
will. They would have made a terrible enemy."

"Could he have really dropped the sun on me?"

"I don't know. I lost Fiona when she got into interstellar relativity."

"She showed me the Pattern in the basement. A glowing thing of twists
and curls. Frightening."

"I know. What do you intend to do now?"

"I think I'm going to go take a look at the Logrus. It's sort of my
origin, and I suppose examining it might be useful."

"Seems wise. We have a trump of it in the case over there. Feel free to
borrow that."

"Thanks."

I nursed a riff from the strings, and Random replied with a slant beat
that begged to be followed. For a while longer we played without any
noise but our echoes.

"Osric made the world over in his image, and that's what showed me how
to beat him. He was unstoppable as long as he was in command, but any
bump in the road could throw him. In the end I never beat him. He
buckled under the pressure beat himself."

"You had something to do with that."

"Yeah," I laughed. "You should have seen the look in his eyes when I
blew my brains out."

Random looked at me with a weird expression and then began laughing. 
"It's a terrible thing that you can do that to yourself so easily."

"I was really upset. I may have mentioned that."

He snorted at me. "That's one of the reasons I'm helping you leave, you
know. I don't want any of my nobles getting ideas about immortality as
well."

"I was wondering about that."

When we finished we replaced the instruments. Random offered me the
guitar, but I declined. "Keep it, sir. We'll play again when I return."

"I'm looking forward to it."

We shook hands. I was immensely impressed by Random. He balanced power
and humanity so well. I wondered if I would be able to do that soon. We
made small talk by the trump case for a little longer, then he patted me
on the shoulder and walked away. Just before he left he looked over his
shoulder and pantomimed placing a gun to his head. He laughed again, a
light easy sound.

"Hey," I replied. "I was really, really upset."

The King of Amber smiled and walked out. Moments later the library was
empty.
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