Charity's Diary

The Abyss Triumphant

This was the second time I had walked the pattern. The first, in Amber, was memorable and it was only to maintain my air of superiority to the others, that I continue to downplay the effort needed to complete the process. To some, walking the pattern has been likened to a sexual frisson - to others, like walking through treacle. For me, the promise of power to control reality drove me on, each veil I struggled through, was another conquest - hard fought and gratefully won. I remember the exhilaration I felt when I reached the centre and the glorious exhaustion I surrendered myself to as I teleported myself to my bedroom. My training elsewhere in Trump (with Llewella) now seems distant and instantly forgettable, and now, with Brand preventing their casual use, I doubt if I will have time to develop my competence in this area. And what with offending Llewella during that incident on the ship, my future guidance on such matters is doubtful.

I fast-forward through the dull montage of my other training sessions and experimentation with my new-found abilities to that fateful night of the attack against Castle Amber. I was lounging in the library, reading background notes of the history of Amber, and other tales of myth and legend, when I heard the chimes signalling the midnight hour. Wrenching myself from the comforting odour of ancient information, I ambled through the corridors up towards my bedchamber. But all was far from well - alien noises came from above me, up around the Royal apartments. There I met Cordelia, carrying a body over her shoulder. It looked like Vialle, Random's blind consort. She wasted no time on details but shouted for me to about -turn and leg it. Considering the lateness of the hour, my reactions were spurred on to new heights by the sight of six large demons (for want of a better word) charging behind them. We seemed to outrun them, by dodging through the winding corridors, but were ultimately out-flanked in the opposite direction. Having, in the meantime, grabbed an ancient sword off from one of the castle walls, we had no choice but to fight for our lives. It soon became clear that we were hideously outnumbered and hampered by our attempts to keep Vialle from harm. Behind me, Cordelia told me that she had her trumps and that she was going to try and get us out of here. I could read behind the lines and knew that getting us all out of there was a no-brainer. So, as she extracted her trumps, I shouted "take her out of here" and leapt at our enemies, with what I hoped, was the suicidal intent of a Tasmanian devil. From what I later learned, it must have worked, but at the time, all I remember, before being pummelled to the ground, was the familiar rainbow glow fading from the corner of my eye. Darkness embraced me, and I welcomed death. But I wasn't quite that lucky.

I woke, being dragged along rocky ground. Looking up slowly, more due to the pain rather than any kind of fear, I saw a handsome blond man. His mouth moved by I heard nothing. I blacked out again. I woke again sat down against a rock to see that man again. At first, he wasn't looking at me, but as I shifted to make myself more comfortable, he spoke;
"Don't try to escape, child".
I followed his gaze off into the distance, to see a black mass against the horizon. The sky was a sickening combination of primary colours, so I looked back to the more conventionally coloured ground. And then back to the back of his head. His cavalier disdain of any kind of threat I may pose him, made me furious. At that, he turned to regard me. Still he had this curious far off look in his eye. I recognised his face now.
His name was Brand.
You cannot win, he said casually. Almost amiable. I enquired as to what the hell he was on about, but he ignored my question, and continued. "I give you a choice - help me or die. It's that simple."
My reservoir of witty repartee had long since dried and I merely retorted "Fuck off".
A sharp pain behind my eyes was quickly supplanted by my skin bursting into flame. I screamed for an eternity, and the pain went leaving no mark on me. He repeated the request. I repeated my refusal.

He raped my mind. My body burned. The flesh peeled from my skin. I knew it was only in my mind. But it didn't matter. My refusals continued in spite of the pain. Brand tore at my memories, supplanting them with horrors and tragedy, and restored them in moments. I gibber my final refusal and the pain ends. He turns, distracted as a huge, hideously horned demon spoke to Brand, regarding something call "Tar Rodian". Perhaps irritated at me over hearing this conversation, he turns abruptly around to face me, and I now found myself being picked up - no, not picked up - levitated across the plain, over a cliff edge and was suspended over a bottomless chasm. "The Abyss" Brand now continued diverting all of his attention back towards me, "will consume you. Your body and mind will slowly dissolve, until nothing but your lonely essence wanders such winds as blows down there, for all eternity. You have one last chance."
I look down, and my eyes fix on nothing but blackness. Something niggles in the back of my head. Was something trying to contact me? "Well?" Brand continued, almost impatient. I shut my eyes and shook my head, refusing to even talk to this beast again.

He let me go and I fell.