Then he cut upward, ripping open the belly of the one behind that one.
I rushed to fill the gap, to be tight behind him and ready. He didn’t need me yet, though.
He took the next two, with a new burst of energy. I called for another dagger and one was passed to me from somewhere along the line.
I kept it ready till he slowed once more, and I used it on the man he fought.
The man was lunging as it spun in, so the hilt rather than the blade caught him. It struck against his head, though, and Bleys pushed against his shoulder and he fell. But the next man leaped forward, and though he impaled himself, he struck Bleys upon the shoulder and they went over the edge together.
By reflex, almost without knowing what I was doing, yet knowing fully in one of those microsecond decisions you justify after the fact, my left hand leaped to my belt, whipped out my pack of the Trumps and cast them toward Bleys as he seemed to hang there for an instant—so rapidly did my muscles and perceptions respond—and I cried out, “Catch them, you fool!”
And he did.
I didn’t have time to see what happened next, as I parried and thrust.
Then began the final lap of our journey up Kolvir.
Let’s just say I made it and was gasping, as my troops came over the edge to support me there on the landing.
We consolidated our forces and pressed ahead.
It took us an hour to reach the Great Arch.
We passed through. We entered Amber.
Wherever Eric was, I’m sure he’d never guessed we’d make it this far.
And I wondered where Bleys was? Had he gotten a chance to grab a Tramp and use it, before he reached the bottom? I guessed that I’d never know.
We had underestimated, all the way around. We were outnumbered now, and the only thing left to do was to fight on for as long as we could hold out. Why had I done such a foolish thing as throw Bleys my Trumps? I knew he had none of his own and that’s what had dictated my response, conditioned perhaps by my years on the Shadow Earth, But I might have used them to escape, if things went badly.
Things went badly.
We fought on until twilight, and by then there was only a small band of us remaining.
We were surrounded at a point a thousand yards within Amber, and still far from the palace. We were fighting a defensive fight, and one by one we died. We were overwhelmed.
Llewella or Deirdre would have given me sanctuary. Why had I done it?
I killed another man and put the question out of my mind.
The sun went down and darkness filled the sky. We were down to a few hundred by then, and not much closer to the palace.
Then I saw Eric and heard him shouting orders. If only I could reach him!
But I couldn’t.
I’d probably have surrendered, to save my remaining troops, who had served me far too well.
But there was no one to surrender to, no one asking for a surrender. Eric couldn’t even hear me if I cried out. He was out of the way, directing. So we fought on, and I was down to a hundred men.
Let’s be brief.
They killed everyone but me.
At me they threw nets and unleashed blunted arrows.
Finally, I fell and was clubbed and hog-tied, and then everything went away but a nightmare which attached itself and wouldn’t let go, no matter what.
We had lost.
I awoke in a dungeon far below Amber, sorry that I had made it that far.
The fact that I still lived meant that Eric had plans for me. I visualized racks and braces, flames and tongs. I foresaw my coming degradation as I lay there on the damp straw.
How long had I been unconscious? I did not know.
I searched my cell for a means of committing suicide. I found nothing that would serve this purpose.
All my wounds blazed like suns, and I was so very tired.