Knight of Shadows

«It'd flame here,» he answered. «Depends on who's is control. I just seem to know it. I don't know how.»

«Then why did Brand show up in Logrus territory?» He grinned.

«Maybe the Pattern sought to use a traitor for some sort of subversion. Or maybe Brand was trying to pull something on his own - like double-crossing the Pattern.»

«That would be in character,» I agreed, my breath finally slowing.

I whipped the Chaos blade out of my boot, slashed my left forearm, saw that it spouted fire, and held it toward him.

«Quick! Take it if you can!» I cried. «Before the Logrus calls you back!»

He seized my arm and seemed almost to inhale the fire that fountained from me. Looking down, I saw his feet become transparent, then his legs. The Logrus seemed anxious to reclaim him, just as the Pattern had Deirdre. I saw the fiery swirls begin within the haze that had been his legs. Then, suddenly, they flickered out, and the outline of those limbs became visible once again. He continued to draw my volatile blood from me, though I could no longer see flames as he was drinking now as Deirdre had, directly from the wound. His legs began to solidify.

«You seem to be stabilizing,» I said. «Take more.»

Something struck me in the right kidney, and I jerked away, turning as I fell. A tall dark man stood beside me, withdrawing his boot from having kicked me. He had on green trousers and a black shirt, a green bandanna tied about his head.

«Now what perverse carrying-on is this?» he asked. «And in a sacred spot?»

I rolled to my knees and continued on up to my feet, my right arm bending, its wrist turning over, coming in to hold the dagger beside my hip. I raised my left arm, extended it before me. Blood rather than fire now fell from my latest wound.

«None of your damn business,» I said, then added his name, having grown certain on the way up, «Caine.»

He smiled and bowed, and his hands crossed and came apart. They'd been empty going in, but the right one held a dagger coming out. It must have come from a sheath strapped to his left forearm, inside the billowy sleeve. He had to have practiced the move a lot, too, to be that fast at it. I tried to remember things I'd heard about Caine and knives, and then I did and wished I hadn't. He was supposed to have been a master knife fighter. Shit.

«You have the advantage of me,» he stated. «You took very familiar, but I do not believe I know you.»

«Merlin,» I said. «Corwin's son.»

He had begun circling me slowly, but he halted. «Excuse me if I find that difficult to believe.»

«Believe as you wish. It is true.»

«And this other one - his name is Jurt, isn't it?»

He gestured toward my brother, who had just gotten to his feet.

«How do you know that?» I asked.

He halted, furrowing his brow, narrowing his eyes. «I - I'm not certain,» he said then.

«I am,» I told him. «Try to remember where you are and how you got here.»

He backed away, two paces. Then he cried, «He's the one!» just as I saw it coming and shouted, «Jurt! Watch out!»

Jurt turned and bolted. I threw the dagger - always a bad thing to do, save that I was wearing a sword with which I'could reach Caine before Caine could reach me now.

Jurt's speed was still with him, and he was out of range in an instant. The dagger, surprisingly, struck at the side of Caine's right shoulder point first, penetrating perhaps an inch or so into muscle. Then, even before he could turn back toward me, his body erupted in a dozen directions, emitting a series of vortices which sucked away all semblance of humanity in an instant, producing high-pitched whistling sounds as they orbited one another, two of them merging into a larger entity, which quickly absorbed the others then, its sound falling lower with each such acquisition. Finally there was but the one. For a moment it swayed toward me, then shot skyward and blew apart. The dagger was blown back in my direction, landing a pace to my right. When I recovered it, I found it to be warm, and it hummed faintly for several seconds before I sheathed it in my boot.

«What happened?» Jurt asked, turning back, approaching.

«Apparently Pattern-ghosts react violently to weapons from the Courts,» I said.

«Good thing you had it handy. But why did he turn on me like that?»

«I believe that the Pattern sent him to stop you from gaining autonomy - or to destroy you if you already had. I've a feeling it doesn't want agents of the other side gaining strength and stability in this place.»

«But I'm no threat. I'm not on anybody's side but my own. I just want to get the hell out of here and be about my own business.»

«Perhaps that of itself constitutes a threat.»

«How so?» he asked.