To Rule in Amber (19 page)

Then fear began to replace joy in his expression. I
was
the god, and on his order, his son had just tried to kill me. What would I do? What punishment fit this crime?

"A fair shot, but it will take far more than an arrow to kill me," I said easily, letting a note of amusement creep into my voice. Better to treat it as a joke and let him off the hook. Tightening my fist, I snapped the arrow in half, then tossed it casually at his feet. "Bring forth your first-born son," I continued.

"I want to look upon him."

"Iankos!" cried King Aslom. "Join us!"

Still pale, Aslom knelt again and bowed his head. He dared not look at my face - I couldn't blame him for his shame. Things were going even better than I had hoped.

Iankos - a lanky version of his father - trotted out from the bushes behind me and joined his brother, kneeling with eyes turned down.

"Command us, Lord Oberon!" King Aslom cried. "How may we serve you?"

His sons looked startled when I called each by name: "Iankos. Eitheon. Lymnos. Haetor. Stand and let me look upon your faces."

They rose slowly, the three eldest daring now to gaze upon me with awe and wonder. The youngest, Haetor, had a curious expression somewhere between suspicion and disbelief. There had to be an unbeliever in every family, after all. Despite my trick with the arrow, he still had doubts. If I could convince him, they would all be won to my cause.

"You do not believe the prophecies about me," I said to Haetor, smiling. "It is good to be skeptical."

"Lord Oberon!" he protested. "I do believe!"

"You want to test me," I said. I drew my sword in a smooth motion. "Do not protest. I see it in your heart."

"Most exalted one -" he began uncertainly.

"Draw your blade, Haetor," I said in a kindly voice. "You will not be satisfied until you have tried your steel against mine. This I know."

King Aslom threw himself at my feet. "Spare him, Most Revered Oberon!" he gasped, eyes desperate. "He is young and rash!"

Aslom's other sons shifted unhappily. I glanced at them and smiled. Had their father commanded, I knew they would have drawn their swords to protect Haetor from me… even at the cost of their own lives. Such loyalty would serve me well against Chaos.

"Be at ease, good King Aslom," I said softly, so only he could hear. Haetor must be his favorite, I decided. I would play to his emotions. "Your son is not destined to die this day, but he must learn his place if he is to serve me. I have important plans for his sword. In years to come, he will become my strong right hand. As will you. I have need of you all."

"Thank you!" Aslom whispered. "Thank you!"

I looked at Haetor and motioned him forward. The boy swallowed audibly. Clearly he was having second thoughts about facing a man who might be a god.

"Draw your sword," I told him. "Would you slay me this day?"

Haetor knelt suddenly, blushing furiously. "Forgive me, Most Exalted Oberon!" he cried.

"Rise!" I said sharply. "Draw, Haetor! Show me what a warrior-prince can do! Or are you a coward, ashamed of your meager talents?"

He climbed to his feet. Then, in a single fluid movement, he drew his sword and attacked.

I had wanted a race of warriors. I had deliberately sought out a Shadow where the strongest, fastest, bravest swordsmen lived… where they worshipped me as a god. But I never imagined how fast Haetor would move - or how brilliant a natural swordsman he might be. With the supple grace of a dancer, he launched a blistering attack that would have overwhelmed lesser men. I fought defensively, slowly giving ground before him, watching the darting tip of his blade for an opening. It moved like a hummingbird, left and right, up and down, testing my defenses and my speed. Other than my father, I had never seen a finer fighter. His enthusiasm, finesse, and technique could not be faulted.

But neither could mine. For every move he made, I had a counter. If his sword hummed with speed, mine sang. If his footwork dazzled, mine shone brighter than the sun. We fought differently, but the match was still uneven.

Finally, I saw the faintest of hesitations. His sword turned slightly out of position following my riposte, and his recovery had a second's hesitation. I knew, then, that his arm had grown tired.

I leaped at him. Sparks flew as steel rang oh steel. I advanced, falling into a deadly rhythm -

thrust, thrust, lunge - thrust, thrust, lunge. He fell back, and his face showed sudden alarm.

Then, with a twist of my wrist, I ripped the sword from his hand through sheer strength of muscle.

It went sailing through the air and landed point-down in the field to our left. Slowly, it rocked back and forth.

Haetor gazed dumbly after it, clutching his right hand to his chest. Then he faced me bravely, standing tall as he waited unflinchingly for my death-blow.

Swifter than he could follow, I dropped my own sword and closed with him. My left hand seized his throat while my right hand grabbed his armored stomach. Like a child lifting a doll, I raised him over my head.

"Listen well, princeling," I said softly, so only he could hear. "I can crush the life from your throat, or pluck your heart from your chest as easily as you can pick an apple from a tree. Your life is mine to give or take. Do you understand what that means?"

"Y-yes, Lord Oberon!" he whispered. His face had gone pale.

"Gods," I continued, voice low, eyes narrowing, "are quite hard to kill. Remember that."

He began to shake with fear. I saw belief in his eyes… and sheer terror as he realized suddenly life and death lay solely in my hands. I had but to close my fist and his throat would be crushed. I had but to press my fingers another few inch into his chest and his heart would fail.

I tossed him twenty feet, into his brothers' arms. They staggered, but caught him and set him down. As he reeled dizzily, I threw back my head and laughed.

"You will do well, young Haetor!" I said. That sounded like something a god would say to a loyal subject. "I have seen your future, and it is glorious!" I wished it were true. What
did
his future hold?

Haetor fell to his knees before me. "I swear to serve you for the rest of my life, Lord Oberon.

Command me. I am yours!"

"Retrieve your sword," I said. "We must all return to the city. Aslom?" I faced his father again.

"Yes, Lord Oberon?" He still looked greatly relieved that I had spared his youngest son.

"Tonight we will celebrate my arrival. Tomorrow you will begin gathering in your armies."

"You will lead us into battle?" he cried eagerly.

"Yes!"

"Against what foe?"

"The hell-creatures of Chaos!"

"Against the hell-creatures!" he shouted. His sons drew their swords and raised them, taking up the cry: "
Against the hell-creatures! Against the hell-creatures of Chaos
!"

"
O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on
!" chanted the tens of thousands of men, women, and children jamming the streets of Ceyoldar. People had been streaming into the city day and night as word spread of my arrival. They had been calling my name for hours once it became known I was staying in the palace.

When I finally made my appearance with the dawning sun, a deafening cheer went up. They must have recognized me from the thousands of statues decorating the city - excellent likenesses for the most part, if I did say so myself. Today I wore magnificent gold-plated armor, beautiful but impractical, which the priests had provided for this day's ceremonies. A beaming King Aslom, dressed in shining silver armor and wearing his crown instead of a helmet, escorted me to the main courtyard. His four sons and a bevy of white-robed Priests of Oberon trailed after us.

The king and I stepped up into a waiting pair of golden chariots pulled by white horses, taking our places behind drivers in simple white tunics. At a signal from the king, the palace gates opened, the drivers clicked to their horses, and we rolled out slowly and majestically into the cobbled streets of Ceyoldar.

Footmen with staffs ranged ahead, calling warnings, making sure the crowds gave way. They needn't have bothered; everyone fell back before me, awe and wonder in their faces. It disconcerted me a bit, but I made sure not to show it. After all, these would be my troops when we faced Uthor's army.

"O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on!"

As we passed, the crowds dropped to their knees, bowing their heads. Still they called my name.

Slowly and majestically, side by side, our chariots steered through the packed streets. We

headed straight for the center of the city. There, half a mile ahead, rose the towering Temple of Oberon -

a gigantic pyramid covered in gleaming white marble. Its outside walls consisted of a series of steps gradually ascending toward a flat top. I had never seen anything so large or imposing.

"O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on!"

Trying my best to look godlike, I neither waved nor smiled. I did, however, nod approvingly now and again. That seemed to meet everyone's expectations.

When we rolled to a stop before the pyramid, I stepped down. Children began to scatter white rose petals before me. A choir began a solemn hymn in my honor.

Silently, I began to climb the steplike white marble sides of the pyramid, flanked by King Aslom and his sons, followed by the high priests. The sun warmed my back; a cool breeze swept in from the south. A few birds soared overhead, their cries lost in the almost deafening roar from behind and below me.

"
O-ber-on, O-ber-on, O-ber-on
!" the crowds continued to chant. "
O-ber-on, O-ber-on,
O-ber-on
!"

It seemed to take forever, but I finally reached the top of the pyramid - a square area perhaps thirty feet on each side. A golden throne sat waiting for me at the edge, allowing everyone below to see me. At least it had a cushioned seat, I saw with a twinge of good humor - someone had given at least a little thought to his god's holy posterior.

Turning, I raised my arms. Instantly the crowd hushed. From this height, I gazed across the whole of the city, from the distant riverfront wharves to my left to the sprawling palace behind its whitewashed walls straight ahead to the crowded tenements on the right.

Though I knew many thousands of men, women, and children had assembled to see me, I was unprepared for the sheer numbers of them. People jammed every street as far as I could see, and they packed rooftops, windows, and balconies. I had never seen so many at one time before… there had to be hundreds of thousands of them.

I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous. It was one thing to address troops before a battle. It was quite another to talk to so many strangers, all of whom believed I was their god.

"Good people of Ceyoldar!" I called.

Criers took up my words, spreading them quickly across the whole of the city.

"I am Oberon!" I told them. "I am here to lead you into battle on a great cause!… We must defeat the foul hell-creatures of Chaos, who even now are preparing to march against Ceyoldar!… If they prevail, all who live in this city and in these lands will be slaughtered!… From the youngest babe to the oldest crone, none will be spared the sword! I say to you now… to all able-bodied men… go home and get your weapons!… We march at dawn tomorrow!
…We will fight the hell-creatures, and we
will prevail
!"

Hundreds of thousands of voices began to cheer. The sound struck me like a physical blow. I raised my arms triumphantly, then sat back in my throne.

Girls in white robes appeared from somewhere within the pyramid, and they began to fan me with the broad green leaves of some native plant. Others approached with trays of delicately spiced meats and succulent fruits.

I waved them away. Stretching out my legs, I half closed my eyes, basking in the morning sun.

This was the good life, indeed. The cushion felt just right.

That night, in the palatial suite King Aslom gave up for my use, I lay back panting and spent for the moment. A dozen beautiful naked women reached out to caress and massage me. Ah, the powers of a god! If only I had the time to properly enjoy this world! If not for the coming fight with Uthor's forces, it would have been easy to dally here, taking my pleasures and reveling in my new-found position. People didn't worship me nearly enough back home. Especially beautiful and willing women like these…

Still, duty called. It had been far too long since I had talked with Freda and Dad. Best to check in with them in case something important had happened.

"Leave me now," I said with a reluctant sigh.

"Great Oberon…" purred Kelionasha, whose nymphlike pleasures I had enjoyed twice already

that night. She seemed to sense my approval. Her small, delicate breasts brushed gently across my chest as she trailed kisses up my neck, sending a new shiver of delight through me. "Have we displeased you?"

"Not at all." I smiled and traced the line of her jaw with one finger. "The business of a god calls me now. I must tend to it."

"Can it not wait?" Her tongue traced a light pattern through the hairs of my chest, around my nipples, and then strayed lower. Her hands began to caress and stroke gently. As I shuddered with pleasure more of these beautiful women reached out, a dozen hands massaging scented oils into my shoulders, neck, and legs.

As Kelionasha swung around and straddled me, I pushed all thoughts of Amber from my mind.

Another hour wouldn't matter one way or another.

"For you," I whispered, pulling her mouth down to mine, her long black hair falling in a cascade across my face, "even the gods will wait."

Hours later, completely drained, I managed to persuade the still more-than-eager women that I needed them to leave. It was a struggle. They didn't want to go, and somewhere deep inside, I very much wanted them to stay.

Finally, half pouting, they rose and began to file from the room, taking an assortment of veils, incense sticks, aphrodisiacs, perfumes, and bottles of scented oils. Kelionasha lingered at the door, her lovely eyes lingering on my face.