He raised the weapon to his shoulder.
Stall! cried my own voice within my mind, while I continued to tamper with the heavens.
“Before you shoot. Brand, tell me one thing. All right?”
He hesitated, then lowered the weapon a few inches.
“What?”
“Were you telling me the truth about what happened-with Dad, the Pattern, the coming of Chaos?”
He threw back his head and laughed, a series of short barks.
“Corwin,” he stated then, “it pleases me more than I can say to see you die not knowing something that means that much to you.”
He laughed again and began to raise the weapon. I had just moved to hurl my rock and rush him. But neither of us completed either action.
There came a great shriek from overhead, and a piece of the sky seemed to detach itself and fall upon Brand’s head. He screamed and dropped the crossbow. He raised his hands to tear at the thing that assailed him. The red bird, the Jewel bearer, born of my blood from my father’s hand, had returned, to defend me.
I let go the rock and advanced upon him, drawing my blade as I went. Brand struck the bird and it flapped away, gaining altitude, circling for another dive. He raised both arms to cover his face and head, but not before I saw the blood that flowed from his left eye socket.
He began to fade again even as I rushed toward him. But the bird descended like a bomb and its talons struck Brand about the head once again. Then the bird, too, began to fade. Brand was reaching for his ruddy assailant and being slashed by it as they both disappeared.
When I reached the place of the action the only thing that remained was the fallen crossbow, and I smashed it with my boot.
Not yet, not yet the end, damn it! How long will you plague me, brother? How far must I go to bring it to an end between us?
I climbed back down to the trail. Star was not yet dead and I had to finish the job. Sometimes I think I’m in the wrong business.
Chapter 7
A bowl of cotton candy.
Having traversed the pass, I regarded the valley that lay before me. At least, I assumed that it was a valley. I could see nothing below its cover of cloud/mist/fog.
In the sky, one of the red streaks was turning yellow; another, green. I was slightly heartened by this, as the sky had behaved in a somewhat similar fashion when I had visited the edge of things, across from the Courts of Chaos.
I hitched up my pack and began hiking down the trail. The winds diminished as I went. Distantly, I heard some thunder from the storm I was fleeing. I wondered where Brand had gone. I had a feeling that I would not be seeing him again for a time.
Partway down, with the fog just beginning to creep and curl about me, I spotted an ancient tree and cut myself a staff. The tree seemed to shriek as I severed its limb.
“Damn you!” came something like a voice from within it.
“You’re sentient?” I said. “I’m sorry . . .”
“I spent a long time growing that branch. I suppose you are going to burn it now?”
“No,” I said. “I needed a staff. I’ve a long walk before me.”
“Through this valley?”
“That’s right.”
“Come closer, that I may better sense your presence. There is something about you that glows.”
I took a step forward.
“Oberon!” it said. “I know thy Jewel.”
“Not Oberon,” I said. “I am his son. I wear it on his mission, though.”
“Then take my limb, and have my blessing with it. I’ve sheltered your father on many a strange day. He planted me, you see.”
“Really? Planting a tree is one of the few things I never saw Dad do.”
“I am no ordinary tree. He placed me here to mark a boundary.”
“Of what sort?”
“I am the end of Chaos and of Order, depending upon how you view me. I mark a division. Beyond me other rules apply.”