The Building of Sable
Advent Sunday 2014
It is disconcerting to learn that one is the subject of a prophecy. It is even more disconcerting, to discover that the prophecy is true.
I believe it reads "A son of Jasra will draw a Pattern", or words to that effect, but even a year ago - and a mere six weeks in Amber - I would have classed myself as the least likely candidate of all my brothers to be the one to do it.
The possibility only occurred to me for the first time after the death of Queen Moire of Rebma. I was checking to find out how she had died, and discovered as I did so the location of the Rebman Jewel of Judgement. Not wanting an item that powerful to fall into Osric's hands, especially given that he had already seized her seeing stone, I removed it from the hiding place where Moire had put it and brought it to Millbank, where I could keep an eye on it.
It was only after I began to study it, that I discovered that rather than being a Shadow of the Amber Jewel, as I had assumed, it was its equal. Usable for changing the weather and influencing Shadows, particularly the water Shadows; probably strong enough to use to edit a Pattern; and potentially capable of creating a new Power. And then the thought began to grow.
Over the weeks, I pursued ways in which the Jewel could be used to help Morgaine. Moire had chosen to hide it before trying to conceal the Palantir, which to my mind meant that she considered it more important than the latter. My guess was that in it she could see Rebma's salvation, if only her enemies could not find it. As I began to work out how it could be used to free the underwater realm of its links to the Undines and the Abyss, I also began to ponder what else could be done with it. I had never considered myself creator material...Hell, I had problems seeing myself as a King...but had it fallen into my hands for that reason, as well as the saving of Rebma?
It became obvious that I needed to take further advice - after all, you can only go so far with making things up as you go along - and so I decided to consult with the man I considered to be the expert in the field.
It took a long while to track Dworkin down, but eventually I succeeded, and was given the opportunity both to discover his feelings on the viability of editing the Rebma Pattern as a way of solving the country's ills, and also to get a second opinion on whether I had enough skill to pursue the other project. His answer was affirmative to both. I discussed with him who the most suitable person to make the Rebma repair was, and while he did not name a best candidate, he made it clear that the worst person who could do it was probably the person who most wanted to free Rebma. Morgaine herself. It was hard trying to convince her of that when I told her...especially as I suspect she was concerned about ulterior motives on my part.
Dworkin's only stipulation, before he gave me his blessing to pursue both projects, was that the Rebma repair should come first...it would effectively involve editing his subconscious, and he did not want the influence of another power to affect that. I could understand the sentiment, and accepted that condition without reservation. Then he began to tell me what would be required for the building of a Power, with blood and music. He never did explain the need for music, but he seemed so sure it was necessary, that I bore it in mind.
The Rebma repair went well, I think. Certainly the main purpose was successful - that of breaking the link to the Undines - although the strange series of happenings almost immediately afterwards gave me cause for concern. However, once I was sure that I had not made a hideous mistake, I started concentrating my efforts on what I was beginning to think of as "my Pattern".
The location was easy. Under the maze in Millbank gardens, with very limited access to all bar myself. Who knows, maybe that was what my father had intended when he and Jasra had planted the maze before they broke up. With Andrew's help, I excavated a suitable chamber, and began to work out the spells I would need to deal with controlling access. I had no intention of leaving the key by the door, as it were.
Next came acquiring a sapling of Ygg. Another touch Dworkin had suggested, without explaining his reasons. I visited the border between Amber and Chaos and, after running the gauntlet of both a group of gawking tourists, and the tree's own ill temper, I came away with an acorn of the original tree. By use of a Shadow pocket, it was possible to cause the fruit to grow, so that when the time came to make the Pattern, a sizeable tree would be standing beside the entrance to the maze.
Finally came the blood. Learning from Kelric's mistakes, Jason had stored away a considerable amount of his blood over a period of time, so that when the Hags came for their tribute as he was drawing the Dervish, they did not endanger his life. I decided to use a similar tactic, storing the blood in a slow, cool Shadow pocket to maintain its freshness until it was needed. Given their reported comments as they took it, I think this was a good idea. It was an interesting context in which to hear my brother shown in less than his best light.
All that remained was to decide who to ask to witness the event. It hurt that the one person I really wanted to be there - Andrew - I did not dare to even allow on Terra Magica as I took the steps to creating a universe. My fear was that the Hags would take demanding my blood as tribute a step beyond what was intended, and claim him as their sacrifice. My second choice was Brand, and even though he was also red-headed, I worked on the theory that he was already a creator himself, and therefore the Hags were unlikely to try to take him on.
I decided on Advent Sunday 2014 as the day on which to make the Pattern a reality, and Brand agreed to stay at Millbank the night before, so that we could go through the final lessons I would need to learn to succeed in my project. Claire, seven months pregnant with the twins, went to stay in London for the evening, so any danger to her would be averted, and Andrew headed off to Earth Prime, presumably for the duration - he said something about meeting up with Morgaine to go to Casablanca.
After a good dinner and storing the last of the blood I would need in the morning, my teacher and I adjourned to the library to attack one of my better bottles of port, and talk.
"Have you decided how to cope with your dark side as you build the Pattern?" Brand asked.
"No, I have to admit I have not, as yet. What kind of options are available?"
"For the most part, there are three. The first is to try and balance it into the Pattern itself. This is what Dworkin did when he created Amber, and I am convinced it has contributed to his...lack of stability over the years. The second, is to give it free rein in one of the Patterns - my preferred choice. The third is the one Kelric and Max chose. Repressing it altogether. While this is a worthy aim, it has unfortunately meant that they have no control over how the darkness eventually manifests, and that is how entities such as the White Cat have come into being."
I remembered the conversation I had had with my father at my wedding about the White Cat, and could make a pretty good guess whose subconscious that particular beast had sprung from.
"None of them are exactly ideal, are they?" I commented, wryly, "I don't suppose it's possible to think of a fourth?"
"You wouldn't be the first to try," Brand answered with a smile, "but I suspect you will be the latest to fail."
"What made you choose the middle option?"
"I prefer to know where my problems are, rather than have them take me by surprise later," he answered.
Then he looked at me, a strange expression on his face. "Have you ever met your dark side?"
"Not often. I suppose it comes out occasionally, but usually when I'm angry and not really taking much notice."
"Perhaps before we go any further, you should," he commented.
I shrugged. "If you think it would serve a useful purpose."
"I think it will be educational."
He rose from his seat and crossed to where I was sitting by the fire. Then he reached out his hand, and as he touched my forehead, I felt something trigger. For a moment I felt disorientated, and as I came to my senses, it was as if we had teleported.
I was standing, Brand beside me, in an office I didn't recognise. Behind the desk, I was somewhat startled to see the Blutfahne - the blood flag - hung with reverence on the wall, beside a map of the United States, the area around New York shaded grey. I glanced at Brand, who raised an eyebrow. Then the door opened, and a figure walked in, and I found myself taking a deep breath as I saw him.
I suppose I had expected my dark side to look like some kind of evil monster from the Abyss. Instead, I was looking at myself, but, with two very visible differences. The first was that the newcomer's hair was cut short, in a military style such as I had not worn in over three hundred years. The second was the uniform he was wearing - identical to that worn by Heinrich Himmler in the Second World War, complete with the rank and insignia of the Reichsführer-SS.
"Interesting," Brand commented, "and I will admit, not quite what I expected."
"What is he likely to say when he sees us?"
"Oh, we aren't really here. Think of this as a projection," he replied, "hmm. Can you tell why this is the form your dark side takes?"
I looked at my counterpart as he crossed the room to his desk and poured himself what I suspect was a very unregulation Scotch, and knew with a strange certainty how this being had come about. He was what I would have become if my father had not staged his own death in 1740. Then, looking at him, I also knew that in his world there was no Andrew to keep his temper in check. He had killed him many, many years before in a moment of anger.
There was a knock at the door, and a low ranking officer poked a nervous head inside.
"The prisoner is here."
"Bring him in," my counterpart ordered, and for some reason I was surprised that his accent was still English, despite the uniform.
The door opened, and two men came in dragging a third, who was struggling. I immediately recognised him as Gray. As they made him stand, I could see blood on his forehead and a black eye, and he seemed to be favouring his right side. However, his spirit was still there, and as I saw him look at the Reichsführer with unmitigated hatred, it gave me a shock to realise that it was me he was seeing.
"So, finally we have you, Brigadier Graham," said my counterpart, with mock politeness "I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last. After all, you have been a major thorn in our side here in America."
"You won't get anything out of me," came Gray's reply, "you traitor."
"It is you who are the traitor, Brigadier, else you would be with us," came the Reichsführer's, his voice soft but loaded with danger, "and as for what we will learn from you...well, we shall see."
"You are a sad, evil man," Gray answered, a mixture of pity and hatred in his voice, "one who turned against his people to join the greatest darkness that this world has ever seen."
The blond man looked at him, then raised his hand and struck him in the face. Gray took the blow in silence, although from his expression I could see that it had hurt him.
"But the Darkness will win," my counterpart said, his tone still dangerously calm, "it is inevitable."
"You will not break me, you know," Gray finally replied, his voice very quiet, "and you are wrong. The Light will be victorious."
And then he smiled, and clamped his jaw downwards. Within seconds, the froth of the cyanide was visible on his lips, and he went limp. Looks of horror appeared on the faces of the guards, and I could see a burning rage suddenly contort my counterpart's previously calm face. As Gray's body slumped to the floor, the Reichsführer drew the .38 from the holster at his belt, and put a bullet in his enemy's head.
Then he turned his attention to his subordinates, and they looked frightened.
"Why wasn't he searched?"
"He...he was, Herr Reichsführer," stammered the one on the left.
"By whom?" came my counterpart's reply.
They looked at each other, then back at him, almost trembling as he regarded them.
"W...w...we...d...d...did..." one of them answered, finally, "w...we ch..checked..."
The Reichsführer did not wait for him to finish. He brought up the pistol he was still holding, and fired twice, once at each of them. The bullets hit them both between the eyes, and they fell to the ground. One seemed surprised, the other's face was frozen in fear, and an expression of calm came back to their killer's features.
As they landed, the door opened and his aide entered.
"Sir...?"
"Have these pieces of garbage taken away," my counterpart said, kicking the corpses of the two guards, and then he gestured towards Gray's body, "and have his head sent back to Churchill in a box. If you want me, I'll be in my quarters."
"Yes, Herr Reichsführer," he replied, then looked at his superior rather nervously, "and sir..."
"Yes..?"
"A message arrived for you a few minutes ago from the führer. He orders you to be sober when you preside at Vogelsang next week."
Preside at Vogelsang? Then I found myself realising that in this world, I had taken over from my father when he was taken out of the picture, as Hitler's Chief Magister.
"I have informed him before that that was none of my doing," replied my counterpart, a flash of anger coming back to his face, which made the aide wince, "Goering was trying to embarrass me. Unfortunately, he succeeded."
With that, he headed out of the room, and down the corridor, and we saw the guards snap to attention as he walked by. Brand gestured for us to follow, so we headed down the corridor after him.
"What do you make of yourself?" my teacher asked as we walked.
"I can't say I'm overly impressed. However, unfortunately I can see how this is the logical dark side for me to have. If my father hadn't left..."
"Indeed," he agreed. He was quiet for a moment, then added, "For idle interest's sake, Reinhard was your son in this world, not Karl's."
"Is he still around?"
"Reinhard? No, you killed him in 1942, in Prague. You considered that he was a threat to your position."
"Which of course he would have been," I had to admit, "if I have replaced Himmler in the scheme of things here. What about Karl?"
"Much as you expect him to be. Drinking too much, and wenching too much. However, he is in charge of the Reich forces in the States, and the pair of you are the most feared men in the country."
I looked at the retreating back of the man who could so easily have been me, and watched the faces of the men he passed. Brand was right.
Eventually, the Reichsführer left the building and crossed the street to a luxurious looking hotel. Flags bearing Swastikas hung from the windows. We followed him in and up to a suite on the fourth floor. Once in his rooms, he took off his uniform jacket and threw it over the back of one of the chairs - a gesture that was painfully familiar to me - and then crossed to the mini-bar and poured himself a Scotch, before sitting down in a chair by the ornate fireplace.
"Even his mannerisms are the same," I commented to Brand.
"I have to admit that your dark side is closer to you than I had ever expected."
I looked back at my counterpart, and watched him for a while. As he relaxed, I could see he was tired, and there slowly came onto his face an expression of self-hatred that I had not expected. He downed the Scotch, then crossed to the bar and brought the bottle back to his chair.
"I would say there is more of you in him, than there is him in you," said Brand, his expression pensive, "perhaps, if there is regret, even your darker self has potential. I suspect that, to use your friend General Graham's terminology, the Darkness in him has not totally extinguished the Light."
"And in me?"
"The Darkness is there, but you keep it under a more iron control than he achieves in mastering his lighter side."
"I could almost pity him," I said, musing.
"But could you live with him?" Brand replied, "if you choose the option I took - making one of your Patterns dark - the world it creates around it will be much like the one we are standing in. Perhaps you will be able to mould a section of it to your real personality, but it certainly won't be a very large proportion."
I looked at him, and then back at my counterpart, thinking hard about the choices he had offered me.
"It would be an evil I could understand, and keep an eye on," I said, finally, "and in that it is probably the best alternative of the three."
He nodded. "That is why I chose it."
Across the room, I heard a telephone ring. I watched as the Reichsführer got rather unsteadily to his feet, downing a third glass of Scotch, and crossed to it.
"Yes, this is de Lacy. What is it?...A journalist?...Where?...I'll be right over."
He slammed down the receiver, then paused a moment to cast a spell - to sober himself up, from the look of the result - then picked up his jacket and flung it over his shoulder.
"Do you wish to follow him?" Brand asked. I shrugged, so he set off down the corridor after my counterpart. He walked the short distance back to his headquarters, and was then directed down a staircase towards a group of cells. A man wearing the insignia of a Hauptsturmführer saluted as he approached, and opened one of the cell doors.
Lying on the floor inside, obviously drugged, was a lightly built, blond man, with something about him that reminded me of Andrew. My counterpart knelt beside him and rolled him onto his back, and I was struck by the similarity between them. Brand was also, it appeared, as I saw him concentrate on the scene for a moment.
"Very interesting. I would say he is your full brother, Robert," he commented. I looked back at the unconscious man, and as I studied him I could see both my father's and Jasra's features reflected.
"Who is he?" my counterpart demanded, standing up.
"His name is Nicholas. He is a journalist with one of the American papers."
"Why did you bring him here?"
"Standing order 937," the captain replied, smartly, "any individual who bears too strong a resemblance to either Reichsführer de Lacy, or Field Marshal von Schmullenberg is to be detained at once, pending investigation by one of the two."
My counterpart nodded, then knelt beside his brother once more. I saw him put a hand to the journalist's forehead, and concentrate for a few minutes. Then he stood up.
"He doesn't know of any relation to myself or my brother. He was writing a story on one of our supply bases. Get him out of this cell and make him comfortable. When he awakens, he will realise that we are his friends, not his enemies."
"At once, Herr Reichsführer," the captain replied, and my counterpart left the cell.
"At least he didn't kill him," Brand pointed out.
"No, I suppose not," I answered, as I watched him go, "merely raped his mind."
"Do you need to see any more, Robert?"
I shook my head. "No, I've made my decision. While I hate everything this place stands for, it is better than either going insane, or being taken by surprise."
He nodded, and we were back in the library at Millbank, and I realised that I was shaking. I stood up, crossed to the sideboard and poured myself a drink from the decanter...and then saw in my actions those of the man we had left behind and put the glass back down, before looking at Brand.
"He really is me, isn't he?"
"Part of you, yes."
"How do I go about building this into the Pattern?"
"As you imagine the reflections, imagine one as black on white, not white on black. If what we have seen is truly how your dark side manifests, then the plane where the black Pattern is drawn will be something like the extrapolated world we just left. For me it was the equivalent of the Amber Pattern, rather than either the Rebma or the Tir-na Nog'th equivalents."
"What else do I need to know?" I asked, picking up the glass once more, and heading back to my chair.
"Be sure, before you start, that you have chosen which of the Patterns in the Jewel you wish to transcribe. Perhaps this evening it would be worth you taking some time to walk it in the Jewel and familiarise yourself with it. However, do not make the mistake of failing to get enough sleep. You will need more energy for this than you have ever needed to walk a Pattern before, and at times it will feel as if you have the weight of worlds on your shoulders."
He paused a moment, taking a sip from his own glass, then gave a wry smile, and continued.
"If you think about it, you have. Each step you take will bring new Shadows into existence. Once you begin, it will feel strange. On an existing Pattern you feel resistance. As you create a new one, there is nothing resisting you except yourself, as you are breaking new territory. Be certain you know your route, and follow it without question, else you may lose yourself to it, and draw on the strains of the music to help keep your memories in order. Also, be sure you know what you wish the ultimate balance of the four Patterns in your sequence to be - whether one or two are stronger, or all are equal, etc. Unless you know in advance, and bear it in mind as you walk, the ultimate result will lack stability, as the four Patterns fight each other for supremacy."
"What about the Hags?"
"Leave their tribute a little separate from where you are working, but somewhere obvious. You want to make sure they find it, rather than decide to attack you instead. That is why we have the Twister..." I detected a slight sneer as he said the word "...instead of a fourth Pattern. Until tomorrow, anyway."
"Do you think I am ready for this?" I asked, finally.
"You have to be, Robert," he replied, an edge of deadly certainty to his voice, "if you have the slightest doubt about it in your mind, then the process will kill you."
He paused again, before adding. "However, in answer to your question, then yes I do. In part it was because your father and I saw the potential in you that I persevered all these years, despite your annoying reluctance to set foot on a Pattern until six weeks ago, and why, once you had finally initiated, I made sure your training went beyond the usual."
"Am I likely to start shifting as I build this?"
"Almost certainly. At times your subconscious might even be thinking its saving your life. But again, do not let that put you off for an instant or you will die. I know I said similar things when you first walked the Pattern, but here it is even more imperative that you listen."
He paused a moment, taking a drink from his glass of port.
"There is one more thing you need to bear in mind. A system such as the one you will build tomorrow works best if one of your bloodline rules each of the realms with Patterns drawn in them - Shadows of yourself work for a time, but they are flawed. You are in a more fortunate position than most. You have a number of heirs, unlike Terry or young Max. But you should consider carefully which one to give the charge of your dark side's world to."
I considered that for a moment, then smiled. "It sounds like a perfect career opportunity for Wilhelm," I answered, "and I promised him that I would take him to a Pattern eventually to cure him of his...condition."
Brand's brow furrowed as he thought, then he also smiled. "Yes, he is probably a good choice."
Then he looked at me and smiled, before rising. "I am calling it a night. A working such as this evening's even tires me. You should also turn in soon. But remember what I said about knowing your route beforehand."
With that, he crossed to the sideboard, put his glass beside the decanter, and then headed upstairs to sleep. Rather than follow him immediately, I went into my study and got the Jewel out of its hiding place, then sat down in the chair behind the desk. I held the gem in front of me, and started looking at it intently. I had already identified which version of the many Patterns contained within it was the one that felt right, and I was gratified that I could locate it almost immediately.
Over the next fifteen minutes or so I repeated the process several times, and soon I was happy that I had eradicated the "almost". Then I put the Jewel back in its hiding place and then headed upstairs, and wasn't really surprised, that night, when I dreamt of Patterns.
Brand and I met up for breakfast the following morning. I felt well rested, and was almost eager to get on with the job in hand. After eating, I went and collected the Jewel, the music crystal I would need with me, and the blood, and then we headed outside. I nodded to the Ygg tree at the entrance to the maze, leaving some of the blood near him, and taking the rest with me, then led us through the hedges. Eventually we reached the rose trellis in the centre. After I was finished today, it would take some specific spells to get from there into the Pattern chamber, but now I just triggered a simple teleport into the underground cavern below. As I arrived, I brought up a light spell, and illuminated the room.
Brand glanced around for a few moments, then looked back at me.
"It should be fine. The lack of entrances is a definite plus."
"I thought so," I answered with a smile, "there will be one exit by the time I am finished, but that is all, and it will not be possible to re-enter the chamber that way."
He nodded in approval.
"At least your paranoia works on occasion," he said, flashing me a grin.
"I do still have the family genes," I replied, "even if most of them seem recessive at times."
I glanced around the chamber again, then headed towards the area I was thinking of as the start. However, before I reached it, I heard a movement behind me, and turned. Brand was holding out his hand, and another figure had come to join him. I sharpened my vision, and was surprised to see that it was Gray. I turned and crossed back to them, and my friend smiled as I approached.
"I am glad you're here," I said, taking his hand, and then embracing him briefly, before breaking away, "if a little surprised."
Brand looked at us. "It seemed appropriate, and after all, General Graham has made part of this possible by giving his blessing to the enterprise."
"I won't dispute that," I answered.
"It was wise for you not to have Andrew on Terra Magica," Brand continued, "but I suspected that you wanted someone else here, as well as myself."
He paused a moment, then added, "You should be making a start. The blood will be getting warm."
And looking at him, I couldn't work out if he was joking.
"Good luck, Robert," Gray said, and beside him Brand nodded.
I took a moment to bar the Shadow, then turned and headed back to the start point. Once there, I drew the Jewel out of my pocket and took a couple of minutes to centre, only triggering the music crystal when I realised I was as calm as I was going to be. Then I looked into the Jewel, found my Pattern, and began to walk to the opening strains of Strauss's 'Sunrise'.
The first step was harder than I had expected, and I could almost feel the energy draining out of me. It took a couple more steps to get used to the feeling, and then I realised what Brand had meant about the lack of resistance. Any resistance there was was internal, coming from my own ability to cope with the pressures that the transfer of energy from the Jewel, through myself as a conduit, to the ground I was walking on, put upon me.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I put one foot in front of the other, and began to be aware of the white glow, tinged slightly with blue, now coming from behind me. I drew on myself and the music...Vivaldi now working its way into my consciousness as the dynamics of the world I was imagining began forming to the strains of 'Spring'. The equivalent of Amber would be the black Pattern - the name Sable came to my mind and it fitted well - and its brothers of air and water would be its equal. However, the one I was drawing, the one beginning to stretch out behind me, would be the controlling design.
As with walking a Pattern normally, memories began to flood through my mind, and keeping them separate from the conscious thoughts I was imposing upon my creation was difficult. I remembered something of the kin happening when I was in Rebma, and managed to keep the old and the new apart, knowing that focusing on the job in hand was all I could afford to do. However, despite my efforts, as I completed the first circuit, and saw the white-blue line to my left, I still felt the poignancy of the memories of Elizabeth's death against the strains of 'Summer'.
Some minutes, and some steps later that movement faded, and I undertook the difficult job of forming the First Veil. The first major testing point for those who would come after me. My steps seemed to take longer, and more energy began to drain out of me, and almost in the distance I could hear voices - female, cruel, and laughing. I guessed my unwanted, but not unexpected, visitors had arrived, and hoped to Hell that Gray and Brand would be alright.
With the first notes of 'Autumn', I was through the Veil and walking once more, although a part of me realised that I had begun to shift. I tried to minimise the energy being taken by it, and concentrated all the harder on the three dimensional line I was following, although as a by product the memories became more prominent in my mind.
Brand was right. This was the hardest walk I had ever taken, and I doubted if I would ever find its match.
Onwards. Through 'Winter' and still around and around. My path was spiralling inwards, now, and my instincts told me that soon I would need to form the Second Veil. It would not be at exactly the half point of the Pattern, but it felt that the right point would coincide with the end of the Vivaldi piece. Maybe that was why the music was necessary...to somehow anchor you, to stop everything else becoming completely meaningless. I held that thought as I built the Veil, and the relief when I was through it was reflected in the opening chords of the Overture to Handel's 'Fireworks' music.
As I took the steps and fought the memories, I realised for the first time that what I was doing felt...right. And I concentrated on the worlds I was building, beyond the triumvirate of the three reflected Patterns. The steps seemed harder, and Brand's description of feeling as if the weight of worlds was on my shoulders, was frighteningly accurate. I was creating them. Lands. Seas. Mountains. Rivers. Plants. Animals. People. In a flash of amusement, I realised that what Blake's irritating Church of Robert preached was beginning to be true. In the worlds of Sable, I would be a god.
I forced the thought down once more, as such speculation could wait. What mattered was the Jewel, myself, the trail of white-blue light, and the music. As a result, the seemingly endless time after the Second Veil was solely taken with the forming of worlds. Then, as the Handel drew to its close, it was time to build the Third Veil. I could feel my own energy beginning to weaken, and drew strength from the Jewel. It was as if it wanted me to finish, and was willing me to make sure I succeeded, and we seemed to merge into one.
The building of the Third Veil was the hardest challenge of that hardest walk. It was as if I had come to an impenetrable wall. I could feel my shape shifter's instincts rebelling. Flee. Get away. Danger. However, I drew on the Jewel, and I drew on myself, tried to banish the impulses, and threw my very being at the barrier in front of me. I seemed to be hammering away at it for decades; centuries. And then, at last it parted, as if finally acknowledging that I had the right to proceed, and as the 'Ode to Joy' began to impose itself on my senses, I suddenly felt lighter, and able to move more easily. I had reached the top of the highest mountain, and was beginning to make my descent.
As I made the final circuits, the music lifted me, and the memories seemed to come from the lighter parts of my life. I felt myself turning ever inwards, working through in my head the changes needed on Terra Magica itself, to protect this Primal Pattern. Then, at last, I could see the end of the Pattern in the Jewel, and suddenly I reached the blackness. All I could see was the Jewel in front of me, and a pale white glow in my peripheral vision. While not as difficult as the making of the Third Veil, the blackness frightened me, and it took every ounce of my remaining energy to impose the logic of my sorcerer's will on it.
It was enough.
One pace. Two. Three. The music speeding up as I took the steps. And then as it finished in triumph, I stepped beyond the end of the line I had been following in the Jewel, and all around me I could feel the universe I had created beginning to awaken and become accustomed to its new-found life. The feeling of a billion, billion, billion souls coming into existence because of my actions momentarily overwhelmed me, and I feel to my knees.
The next things I was conscious of were the white-blue glow around me, the Jewel lying on the floor in front of me, and the coldness of the sweat on my clothes. However, at least I was human formed. I picked up the Jewel and put it into my pocket, and then forced myself to my feet and looked around, trying to control the fact that I was shaking with exhaustion. There was no need for the light spell in the cavern now...and then I realised that at some point I had let it drop, and I could not remember when.
All I was sure of, is that it was a billion lifetimes ago.
I studied the two dimensional form around me. It was similar to the Pattern of Amber, although the sequence of angles was different, and the distribution of straight lines and curves varied slightly. I reached out my mind, and could feel its presence...just beginning to awaken, like a new-born child. There would be time to teach and guide it later.
Very slowly, I looked around and finally made out the two waiting forms. They were beside the tunnel that I knew would lead to Sable. I willed the Pattern to send me to them, and appeared beside them. Gray steadied me as I almost overbalanced, then to my surprise, I felt Brand embracing me.
"You always were my most gifted pupil," he said, a broad grin on his face, "I'm proud of you, and I am sure your parents will be also when they realise. Both of them. How does it feel to have fulfilled that which was spoken before you were born?"
"At the moment, I am about one step from numb all over," I replied, hardly trusting my own voice, "I'm not even sure that what I have done here has completely sunk in yet."
Then I looked around me again.
"The Hags?"
"Have been and gone," Gray answered, then he smiled, "they complimented you on the vintage, and commented that it was fresher than...quote...your cheapskate brother Jason."
The smile broadened into a grin. "It was well done, Robert."
"In the end, it just felt right," I answered.
"We can discuss this later," Brand interjected at that point, "it will not be long before people realise that there is a new Power in the universe. I suggest we get back to the house, and you adjust the time here so that you are more yourself when they come calling."
Concentrating long enough to cast the spell that would get us back upstairs, and speed up the time on Terra Magica, was all I could do. I landed us in my bedroom, then almost fell into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
"We will be downstairs, when you need us," Brand said, quietly, and then he and Gray walked out of the door, closing it behind them.
Once they were gone, I stripped off my sodden clothing, making sure to remove the Jewel and wrap the chain around my wrist, and then I rolled myself up in the bedspread and went to sleep.
And my dreams were filled with visions of life, against the background of my new Pattern.