The throne room of Amber, at the heart of all worlds...

As the team which have recently exited the cellars enter the room, they find Roman and Finndo already there, in conversation with King Random.  Fiona is also present, turning to deal with this new interruption.  Until, that is, she discovers their identity.

The presence of an Archon in the castle freezes whatever she was about to say in her throat, and she backs away a step, involuntarily.

Random raises a hand to Roman, "Just a moment.", and turns to face the new invasion, "Is that a real Archon?  Or is it merely another shape assumed by your... " he catches sight of the Banglen-Yps, and the question dies, to be replaced by, "Can somebody, anybody, explain what the bloody hell is happening here?"

Once again, an Explanation has been requested.  Tahirah steps forward, making a slow gesture over the group, passing across Amabael, pausing briefly at Luke, and then continuing along past the crowd of Banglen-Yp's.  Then she folds her arms again.

And from within the hood, she says, "... No."

"In short," Chance says. "You'd be surprised at the kinds of things lurking in your cellars, Majesty. I mean ... really."

He drifts to the side in his usual, casual-but-deliberate manner. He turns to survey the small crowd that entered with him. He pauses and glances at Tahirah.

Finally, he shrugs. "Yeah, I'm a bit lost too. Cyan?"

Dorian smirks laconically at the lack of easy explanation.

"Quite obvious that someone needs to set things straight here, though."

Once again, the spokesperson, Cyan manages to avoid rolling her topaz eyes as she steps foward.  "Your majesty."  She bows, considering her words, then begins.  "May I present Amabael, of the Sencathi archons, long-imprisoned by Dworkin, along with the others of Banglen-Yp's..."  She pauses a moment.  "...race."  It doesn't seem wise to struggle through an explanation she barely understands herself.

"Amabael, his Majesty Random of Amber."  Again, it seems wise to keep things simple at the moment.  Berd, for his part, keeps himself silent, focused upon holding a shield over his and Cyan's thoughts.

"Your majesty, Amabael has pledged herself and her people to support my attempt to deal with the Archon threat."  Again, wiser to leave aside the vision she saw when within the archon - the sea of stars, each of them one of the Sencathi.  It had daunted her, but then, what better place to hide an entire race than within a single 'individual'?  "I believe we stand a chance - a good one, if past experiences are any judge."

Questions are asked, and explanations given...

Dworkin himself is responsible for the damaged Trumps, not some external enemy, but his sabotage was intended to defend Amber from those who could use those Trumps against her.

The mad recluse has been working on a weapon to fight the enemy, but his methods have been... misguided, to say the least.  The weapon has been effectively destroyed, and his test subject released.

The group of agents who descended into the cellars in search of Dworkin are almost certainly responsible for the violent tremor which shook the castle some time ago.  The timing of it, compared to their own actions in the cellars, seems to be too close to be a coincidence.

Roman, meanwhile, has an idea which might aid in the Amberite's communication difficulties, caused by their current lack of Trump...

By the time the explanations are complete, Random is looking somewhat more at ease, and several other members of the royal family of Amber have arrived in the room.

"And then it gets really weird," Chance mutters under his breath, hoping only those closest to him will hear it. "Though I've got to admit, when it is all put together, there is a strange sort of sense to the whole tale."

So there's an archon - of a previously unseen type.  A horde of Banglen-Yps.  And Dworkin sabotaged his own people without bothering to tell anyone.  Are things always this eventful around Amber ?  Roman shakes his head and studies the papers provided, looking for a reasonably close commander.  When he has one, he carefully brings the Logrus to mind, sending out a questing tendril.  Just one touch to see if it works...

Aaron managed to keep a straight face when Tahirah answered Random, and, of course, gave Cyan enough respect to allow her to explain the situation.

Luke's comment, however, drove him over the edge. He snorted, then barked a sharp laugh, raising a hand to his forehead as he looked at the throne room's ceiling.

"I never get tired of this grouo."

Shaking his head, he raised a hand and coughed slightly. "Sorry, sorry. It may be best to outline our next steps." He looked to the King, then. "Lord Random, how goes the setting of Amber's defense?"

Cyan bows a single time to the newly assembled royalty.  She's pleased Lord Chanicut has determined a method to facilitate communcation on the line of battle - wars are often lost due to the lack of such things.  She studies the massive form of Prince Gerard as he enters, her keen ruby eyes searching him for a sign of the blade Luke discovered, then returns her attention to Aaron and the King.

What a curious assemblage from across the Myriad Worlds they are.  Lords of Order...and of Chaos.  Emperors.  Protectors of Realms.  Princes and princesses, of several sorts.  Whatever Berd is.  And simple wanderers.

"Indeed, Chance," she replies to the Deathsinger's muttered comment, awaiting Random's answer.  Then Cyan frowns.  "For my plan to have a chance, I need the attention of the greater part of the Nephillim."  Inside, she quails at the thought.  "I...I am uncertain if it would be better to set it in motion now, or wait until this battle is finished.  On the one hand, it seems more likely to garner attention if we succeed in this battle and drive the Archons away to lick their wounds."

Her hands slide behind her back and she begins to pace, a familiar pose, perhaps, to Luke, Aaron, and Chance.  On her shoulder, Berd squawks and settles himself again.

"On the other hand," the General mutters, "getting things going now might fracture the forces arrayed against Amber.  Not a bad idea - if we lose this battle, if Amber falls, we're done."  Her head comes up, eyes dark as Dorian's cloak.  "Might have to do it here, rather than where I planned."

"The defence goes... " Random starts, then grinds to a halt.

"How the defence goes is difficult to gauge, to be perfectly honest.  With no Trumps, we have little contact with our commanders in the field.  Though they are not far away, on Kolvir and in Arden, the terrain does not make it easy to observe the battle."

The king gestures towards the seemingly preoccupied Roman, "Which is where your friend can, hopefully, assist us."

"Had I the time, I could forge palenqueti of my own," Cyan muses, understanding the King's frustration.  "Mine seem to still function...if you desire, I have certain cards already, some that might assist."  The deck comes out with a snap of the wrist, like a gunfighter drawing his pistol.  "While not as omnipresent as Sir Roman's abilities, they can provide communication with certain people in the field.  James, for one.  Aaron and Dorian, should they desire to assist."

Out comes the card for James, that of the weary soldier at a temporary rest.

She considers further, eyes lightening toward sapphire.  "With only minutes, I could provide sketches for others, but they would have to be people I know.  I apologize, your majesty - I should have thought of this earlier."

A wave to the drake on her shoulder.  "Berd would provide communication, but one wiff of his presence and many archons would immediately descend upon us..."  She frowns.  "Which begs the question of why they have not."  Slowly Cyan turns in place, waving a hand toward the walls.  "The Nephillim travel through the Underflow - they could be here, now, in the middle of this room, this castle, should they desire.  Is there something keeping them from doing so...or is it their choice?"

"A caution," Tahirah offers, slipping into her more comfortable advisory roll.  "If they had Cards of these leaders before they learned of the infection, then quite possibly they bear the Mark, and connecting your own Cards to them could expose you also.  Unless it can be reliably recalled who has not been contacted by Card since before Dworkin's touch."

Then, turning to Random, her voice comes out from her hood sounding a little bit perplexed, and it's quite possibly for the best that the King can't see her expression.  "If it's only an overview of the battle that you lack, I left a partial scrying map atop one of the towers.  It wouldn't take very long to bring it to a more functional level.  If you have..." she drifts a hand thoughtfully in front of her, "Artifacts, or symbologies, of your commanders, they can probably be connected to send messages, also, although that would take longer."

Amabael turns slowly, matching Cyan's motions, + THEY MAY HAVE DETECTED THE TRAP WHICH WE, OURSELVES FELL INTO.  OR HARBONAH MAY HAVE HELD THEM BACK FOR SOME PURPOSE.  OF THE TWO, WE BELIEVE THE LATTER IS THE MORE PROBABLE. +

Random nods at Cyan's words, then sighs as he realises the flaw in her plan at the same time as Tahirah does.  "We can't be sure who is infected, so allowing anybody here to use your cards could ruin them."

"Which raises an interesting point...  Could it be that Dworkin only tainted the Trumps here because he couldn't affect them elsewhere.  Or could he have been hoping that continued Trump use by people outside Amber would serve to distract our enemies."

Tahirah's offer brings a smile, "If you can show us the battlefield, and Roman can pass messages to our commanders, then we may have the means to win this battle."

"Harry always was tactically and strategically bright," the General mutters, pacing again.  "Look how well he held such an unsteady alliance together.  It makes sense to me, Amabael."

She glances up, eyes dark and shadowed, as Random addresses her.  "Very well, I shall hold off.  I wonder if it is an illness that may be passed in such away, or a fault specifically added into your 'Trumps' by their creator."  She grimaces, eyes lightening.  "Best not to take a chance," Cyan admits.

Without knowledge of the situation, without the ability to 'see' the battlefield (for Berd has restricted his own vision to specific areas, in the hope of not attracting the attention of the Archons), Cyan cannot think of her next move.  Frustrated, she rubs her forehead with the tip of her finger, considering.  "I cannot begin at present, not until Amber is certain to hold at least a short time."  It boots nothing to put into place a plan to defeat the enemy with the Myriad Worlds collapsing around one's ears.  "If you have no suggestions, Majesty, I would bide a moment here, see how the battle flows and if you require further assistance."

"I'm certain we can hold out for a short time, at least." Fiona comments, dryly, "Though much will, of course, depend on exactly how short a time you mean."

Random watches Amabael carefully, as if not entirely trusting the Archon yet.  Which is, perhaps, not entirely unexpected, given that his city is under attack by forces commanded by Archons.

He speaks to Tahirah, without taking his eyes of the wheel of revolving ice, "Can this map of yours be moved, or must we repair to the tower?"

"You are all free to abide here for as long as you like.  Your assistance in the defence of the city would be most welcome.  I can, if you wish, command that quarters be provided for each of you."

Roman opens his eyes, allowing the Logrus-image to fade from his sight.  "Your Majesty.  It appears to be workable.  I'd not like to move a man by this way, but to deliver sealed letter to your commanders appears possible.  But it will be more difficult to get messages back from them."

"That's a start, at least.  If the map can show us how things are going, then we can at least send orders in reaction to events, as they pan out before us." Random says, grinning.  "That's probably the best news I've heard in the last hour.  Thank you."

A large, powerfully-built man, clad in the colours of smoke, speaks up at that, "It's about bloody time we had some good news."

"Aye, Gerard.  It could be a sign that our luck is turning."

Fiona snorts, "Luck?  I prefer to make my own luck.  That way I know who is controlling it."

"Your majesty," Cyan quietly begins, "I ask only that you decide where would be best to bring a concentration of Archon forces to bear in order to weaken their assault."  She makes a gesture toward her shoulder.  "Berd is...disliked by the Seraphim.  So much so that his appearance - and mine - will most likely cause a great stir and attract many of their people, once they throw their forces into the fray.  That could be dangerous, but if properly used it might blunt their attack upon Amber itself."

All the while she is thinking furiously.  They cannot afford to allow Amber to fall - if it does, the Myriad Worlds themselves will be torn asunder.  She must help them hold here.  And yet...

And yet, if I do I may never have another chance.  The odds of survival in a pitched battle against the forces Harbonah will bring to bear upon Amber, the forces Harbonah must bring to bear upon Amber, are slim.  And if Harbonah and his people discover Berd's presence, Dorian's presence, the presence of others who have thwarted them before, all standing in Amber...would they not come?

Berd responds to her urging, unfolding a bridging immediately between Cyan and the remainder of the group gathered in this room.

I ask you all now - all of you questors, standing here - do you take this to be our last stand?

I do not wish - I CANNOT act without speaking, for secrecy is not my way, but I fear to say this before the Lords of Amber, for it yet remains possible there is a traitor within them.

I can summon Jonnee Kay and his armies now to help defend Amber.  I can ask Amabael to unleash the Sencathi.

We can make the attempt to break the spine of the Seraphim here and now.

But should we?

We would bring greater forces to protect Amber, but also I would need to draw the Seraphim - as many as I could - here.

There would be danger, gravest danger.  If we fail, and Amber falls...and yet, if we wait, Amber may yet fall.  And we will have lost our chance.

I said before this is the time for desperate acts, for we stand upon the brink of utter loss - the Seraphim are far ahead of us, and only a lightning stroke, risking all, may recoup us that distance, giving us a chance to win.

Is this that time?

What say you?

Even as she speaks, Berd takes a terrible risk - cloaking one of his minds within inky shadows, he sends it winging out into the Underflow, searching for the Seraphimic forces - the Archons themselves - and calling upon Luke to assist him remaining unseen, unnoticed.

One of the Banglen-Yp's, presumably the one who has travelled with the group for a while, steps forward.

•• I will stand here •• All of me ••

Then she turns to Random, with a bright smile.  •• I can talk among myselves • even if we are scattered •• I know what the other mes are thinking •• Would this make me • us • useful as messengers ••
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:34, Sat 06 Nov 2010.

It was a decision made of epic scale, one that Aaron had seen the true weight and breadth of, one he understood much better now. Yet the decision needed to be made, the cost of it so massive that he was having a hard time coming to grips with it.

The enemy might take this 'final stand' as a surprise. It almost seemed too easy, too dumb, for a group of individuals as great as the ones Aaron himself moved with. To place all of their assets in a single area, and an area of such grand significance... surely Harbonah would think it a trap?

Perhaps, Aaron considered, the victory lied not in its apparent folly, but in its very simplicity. It was madness, of course. To set all that they held dear in a single hand - that of Amber - and see whether the place stood or fell.

He wanted to laugh and to scream, that Harbonah would put them in this place, to make this decision. To laugh at the fact that Aaron himself nearly hungered for such odds.

"What other choices have we?" He shrugged. "Can we risk not doing this? I really don't think so."

"Not like I got anything better to do," Chance says with a smile. "The only things on my to-do list for today were bake some cupcakes, kill evil archons, and save the universe, so ... Oh, look, I can kill two birds with one stone. Even better. I'll, uh, save the cupcakes until after the slaughter. You know, just in case.... And, I mean, what better way to celebrate saving the universe than with .... cupcakes." His voice trails off as he seems to remember where he is right now.

"Need you even ask?" Dorian asks from beneath his hood. "How long have we stood together? Have not desperate measures become de rigueur by now? And if Amber falls, let Hosk be but a twinkle in the night sky compared to the fury I shall unleash before its embers die out."

"Well, it seems that we have plenty of people prepared to stand with us." Random says, rubbing his hands together and grinning.  "And we may have something else that might help."

"Gerard?"

The big man lifts his head, "Yes, I have it.  No thanks to our friends here.  They tried to stop it being delivered to me, you know?  Lucky for us that Redigan is far too officious to let mere heroes interrupt him in his duties."

"I left it in my suite though, under his watchful eye.  Just to be on the safe side."

"What he's talking about, as you are apparently aware, is a knife.  A powerful artifact which once belonged to Dad.  It's very strongly tied to Amber, and to the Pattern."

"I'm in," Luke affirmed.  He nodded slowly.  "Always been one for last stands, for assailing the unassailable, the whole bit.  Will be nice to walk into this war with the old man rather than against him for a change."  He stared with surprising solemnity at the others as they made their own decisions, then barked with laughter at Gerard's comment.

"Heroes?  That lot, maybe...frankly, I was worried we might still have a traitor here."  He shrugged, unmindful of any annoyance that comment might accrue.  One hand found the pocket of his long coat, and he touched something within it, a thoughtful look coming across his face for a moment.

Then he slipped up next to Dorian.

"I don't think we'll have much time if Amber falls, but could you warn me this time before you pull a stunt like Hosk?"  A thousand daggers filled his smile, eerily reminiscent of Berd's.  "Last time...it hurt."

"If you're worried about preserving the Pattern, I doubt that it will be in much greater danger.  Perhaps less than if the battle were elsewhere, since we can afford more force to guard it." Roman states.  "On the other hand, the damage to this place will be reflected in many, many Shadows.  If you really care about those other worlds, somewhere less central would cause less....collateral damage"

"It was a metaphore, Luke," Dorian says dryly.

Tahirah is a bit startled at the bridging, and the first thing to come across from her is a sudden sense of laughter at Chance's reply.  She quiets quickly, though, and listens, both within and without.  As the affirmations come across, she tentatively adds her own thoughts.

  There are risks, she replies, composing her thoughts carefully.  I refer not to the obvious dangers if they come, but to the risk that they may not.  The Archons are not even here, now; we do not yet know where they are instead.  You have your...bait, but by the time it is revealed, so is much of your strength.  She's quiet for a moment.  You know Harbonah better than most.  There's another moment of quiet after this.  But if it were me... I would expect a place of Amber's apparent importance to draw our strongest defense.  If the Archons are not here now, then this attack is likely a test - the weak assault sent ahead to see what defenses will be, and to do what damage they can while they are at it.  I would not commit more forces unless the feint seemed on the verge of victory, and perhaps not even then; the sudden appearance of a stronger defense would be only reason to stay watchful.  If you, and Jonnee Kay, and the Sencathi, and Banglen Yp are all revealed to be here now, then perhaps they will do as you hope, and fly to Amber with all speed in hopes of crushing all of their enemies as one.

But were I them, I would wait, and let this attack fail.

The princes and princesses of Amber suddenly look a little less comfortable, as Roman speaks, but Random does reply to the Chaosite, "The Pattern is not altogether indestructible.  It can be damaged.  That was one thing we discovered during the recent war with your own people."

"You are right though, in that any harm which befalls Amber will ripple out into Shadow.  With enough damage here, entire worlds might fall into nought but dust and memories."

He gestures towards Gerard, "That's why I asked him to have Tiadé fetched out of storage.  It's a thing Dad made, with Dworkin's help, when he was younger than any of us kids.  It might be useful."

Aaron raised his head to Random, his eyes narrowing in considerable thought.

"What do you know of Tiadé and its connection to the Pattern?"

The blade could be anything, of course. Its physical nature could simply be an image used to represent something else, though a blade, of any type, is usually crafted for a specific purpose. Aaron highly doubted Tiadé had been Oberon's letter opener.

Still, though... one never knew. There were a lot of weird things in Shadow.

"It was Dad's letter opener." Random says, with a chuckle, "At least that's what he always called it.  A knife, because a knife is a tool, not a weapon, and Tiadé was intended as a tool first, and a weapon second."

"The blade bears a copy of the Pattern, in miniature, as it where, but that Pattern can't be used for anything except the one purpose for which it was created."

"It was intended that, should the Pattern ever be damaged then Tiadé would, as long as it wasn't too badly damaged, allow its wielder to redraw it.  They wouldn't be able to create an entirely new Pattern, or change the original in any way.  But it would allow them to restore the Pattern to the form it held on the day that Tiadé was first empowered."

Random shrugs, "And I think it will only work once.  After that, it's just a fancy carving knife."

]

They're discussing methods of preserving reality, now - a fine thing, should the worst occur.  In Cyan's opinion, if they have to use the 'letter opener', they've lost.  True, they can remake the Grand Pattern, supposedly exactly as it was before.

But what of all of reality that has winked out of existence?  What of all the people's lives, snuffed away?  Would they return as if never gone?  Would they merely be copies?  Or would everything be 'reset'?

On the day that Tiadé was first empowered.

Question answered.

Lips thinning, Cyan paces in a circle.  "I need to know, Berd - where are they?"  The drake continues to narrow his focus, seeking the Seraphim with Luke's assistence.  And Cyan returns to the bridging, her smile reappearing briefly in response to Tahirah's amusement.

+ You make good points, Tahirah, points that bring me doubt.

I believe I can incite Harbonah and the other Seraphim to attack, should I be capable of discerning their location.   Regardless of their 'grand plan', each and every one of the Seraphim has their own plans for control and domination...over each other.  They have no true trust.  Harbonah rules through a combination of power and cunning.  If another Archon believes itself capable, it will challenge him.

If I offer knowledge of Harbonah's inner secrets - and they all know me to have been his General, at one point - and others of our group are there to offer their own secrets, of how we defied the Seraphim for so long, I suspect some of the Seraphim will come.

And if some of the Seraphim come, more will follow.  For they cannot afford to be 'left behind'.  If there is secret knowledge to be revealed, they must hear it as well.

And Harbonah will perforce be compelled to come.

Knowing their nature as I do, I do not believe they will have a choice in the matter.  Their own desires will drive them to us.

...but I could be wrong.  I do not believe so, but it is certainly possible. +

Her lips quirk again.

The Lords of the West know I have been wrong in the past.  Horribly.

"Your majesty," she says aloud.  Quietly.  "Would not using that blade cause the deaths of untold people throughout the Myriad Worlds?  Would it not..."  She struggles to find the proper words.  "Erase them?" Cyan finally finishes.

Amabael, still a wheel of glittering ice shards, a wintery chill exuding from its form, speaks, +WE DO NOT BELIEVE THERE ARE OTHER ARCHONS NEARBY.  AT LEAST WE CAN NOT SENSE THEM.  WHILE IT IS POSSIBLE FOR AN ARCHON TO CONCEAL ITSELF FROM ANOTHER, EVEN WHEN THE OTHER IS ACTIVELY SEARCHING, DOING SO REQUIRES THAT THE ARCHON REMAIN... QUIESCENT. +

+ IT WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO EXERCISE ITS ABILITIES.  WITH A LARGE GROUP, IT WOULD BE HARDER STILL TO CONCEAL THEMSELVES.  WE COULD SEARCH FURTHER AFIELD, BUT WE ARE RELUCTANT TO DO SO, AS IT WOULD RISK EXPOSING OUR PRESCENCE HERE. +

Random nods to Cyan, and takes a moment to consider before answering, "It would, as you say, undo a portion of history, and the people who were born since the day that Tiadé was forged would no longer exist.  But... and I believe it is important to remember this... if the blade were needed to redraw the Pattern, then a considerable portion of it would have already been damaged, and a great many people would already be dead or changed."

He spreads his hands, as if weighing the choices, "Everything would continue from that point.  People would be born, live, die, just as they have done this time.  Many of them will still be the same people."

"Indeed... " interrupts Fiona, "For all we know, Tiadé might already have been used one or more times.  This could simply be a repeat of a previous iteration of history, and we simply don't realise it.  Each time, all is restored, and each time the events play out exactly as before."

"Including this discussion."

Cyan listens carefully as Amabael speaks of the Seraphim's lack fo presence here, and slowly nods her head as Berd's search produces the identical results - nothing.  "So," she whispers.  "We can fight here, and try to hold.  Defeat the Seraphim's armies while searching for them -" Do that, Berd. "- and if we find them or they come here..."

Implement her strategy, as final as it will be.

"Hold your senses back, Amabael," she advises.  "I would rather the Seraphim not be aware of your presence."

Berd, has there come any word of the nephillim?

The king's words put a spike in her gut; sick at heart, Cyan slowly turns in a circle, struggling to think over their meaning, and the truth of what follows from Fiona.  "Then...if the Pattern is so sorely damaged you must...ah...<I>reboot it, it shall wipe away untold numbers of lives.  I understand.  But if the Pattern is only partially damaged, and can hold?  What then?  Do we wipe them away anyway, to ensure a better solidity?  Or is there a way to succor the Great Pattern, to save it and the people simultaneously?"

Closing her eyes, she rubs her forehead.  They do not see.  Reflections might look the same, but any people in this new Myriad Worlds would not be the same.  The others would still be gone.  Destroyed.

"And if this is nothing but a retelling of the same story, continuing into the past in reflections ad infinitum," she whispers, her eyes darkening, "then it would be pointless to proceed.  Better to risk on something new than play the universe like a skipping CD, wouldn't you say?"

The General fades again, and she shakes her head, eyes brightening to a deep ruby.  "Should we not struggle to hold steady here - to keep the Archons' army from our gates?  But if this is not their full force, then where are the Seraphim  What are they doing?"

The key question.

"If this was their only goal, Harbonah would fling his full strength upon this world," Cyan whispers.  "The sage states that to force an opponent to react as you wish, you attack something of value, something they cannot afford to lose.  So they pressure Amber.  And while we defend that place, they go about their business elsewhere."

Where?  And what?
This message was last edited by the player at 19:00, Tue 23 Nov 2010.

 

A head cocked to one side, pensively, and a multitude of head cocked pensively to the side.

•• I do not believe this to be a rerun • because I have not seen this episode before ••

A multitude of voices spoke and a single one.

•• Indeed • as the fellow with the golden mark on his forehead would say • I have not even seen this season yet ••

A giggle rippled through the identical crowd.

•• At least not for me ••

A hand rose and a multitude of hands tapped as many chins along with the solitary one.

•• Then again • if this is indeed a typical looping of time • as shown by the Screen many a time • then something has changed ••

A cheerful grin and the hand(s) dropped to place all fingers upon the multitude of the single chest.

•• Me ••

A thoughtful pacing began and lasted for but a second.

•• Even if I am too late to change things now • should it be a broken record • I may learn enough this time to stop it the next ••

All too many teeth, if not in one place, fried of a brilliant smile.

•• Fear not • I shall help either way ••

 

"And we appreciate the help." Random says, nodding to Banglen-Yp.  His expression, though, betrays the fact that he has not really followed much of what she said.

His attention goes back to Cyan, "I suspect you may be right.  If they are not coming here, then their target must be elsewhere.  Somewhere far from here.  But for Amber to serve as a suitable distraction, their true target must be worth the cost of attacking here."

"I have no idea what that would be."

He starts to pace back and forth as he speaks, "Their goal has always seemed to be Amber, right since the first time we heard of the threat they present.  Could it be that something has happened to give them a new goal?"

"Or are we simply misunderstanding their plan?  They are not, after all, human."

"It IS possible that the Archons have changed their minds regarding their target.  And if my understanding of their intent is correct they wish to eliminate both poles of our reality." Roman states.  "However there is a place between that they must defend, a place where many of them already are.  The site of Finndo's machine."  A risky place to strike - the danger that the machine will be used is that much greater.  But so is the chance that that use might be prevented.  It might be better to choose another target, hoping that the defenders will be drawn off to the battle, so that a strike team might disable the machine.  But that may not be an option.

Banglen-Yp as a wildcard, changing the scenario?  It might be true.  But further information flows to her.  Cyan frowns.  "Berd speaks with the nephillim...we may yet have further allies, Amabael, archons who have dismissed the Seraphim's desire to conquer and who have dedicated themselves to study and peace."  Her grin is full of irony.  "Even their danioti have taken up positions as 'protectors'."

But the smile vanishes.  "The Seraphim...have scattered."  She closes her eyes as the information continues to flood in from the little drake, still seated on her shoulder, his golden eyes now burning.  "They move as if they have aims, but oftentimes in different directions.  Decoys?  Or perhaps they search.  For what?"

Her amber eyes clear.  "Do they wish to hold us here?" she whispers.  "Force us to hold the line in Amber's defense while they prepare an endgame?  Berd - the cracks.  Can you see the cracks throughout the Myriad Worlds?"

The air above the little drake begins to shimmer, as if in a heat haze.  More and more of his hydra-mind comes into play, its twelve-fold perceptions stretching out through reality, holding parlay with the nephillim, seeking out the Seraphim, and now pulling back to study the vicious 'breaks' the Seraphim have laid from pole to pole through the Myriad Worlds.

"Their tactics, we may misunderstand.  But their overall plan...they wish to shatter the Myriad Worlds, to return all to fluidity."

Her eyes focus again.  "Why defend Finndo's machine?  Refresh my memory, if you would, Lord of Chanicut."

"The machine can return the former prisoners to their jail." Roman repeats the information ""Not a power 'touuld be wise for us to use but a power that Harbonah would not let slip from his grasp.  I have seen the place of the machine and there are many Archons there.  If the Seraphim have dispersed, it may be the largest gathering to be found."

"This is the part I hate." Random sighs, "What if the Archons aren't using Amber as a diversion for their real plan?  What if they're moving somewhere else to distract us from the real goal, which is a sudden, direct assault on Amber?"

"See?  It's becoming more and more complex.  We need to decide."

Fiona nods her head, "Exactly.  We can keep on second-guessing ourselves until the end of time.  There comes a point where we have to decide to commit ourselves.  If we're right, we win.  If we're wrong... well we have to hope we're not so badly wrong that we can't correct it."

She turns towards Amabael, "You, Amabael was it?  You are an Archon.  You know how they think.  What do you think their most likely short term goal would be?"

+ SHORT TERM, FOR AN ARCHON, IS FAR DIFFERENT FROM WHAT A HUMAN WOULD CALL SHORT TERM.  BUT WITH THE INFORMATION WE HAVE HEARD SINCE COMING HERE, WE WOULD SAY THAT THEIR IMMEDIATE AIM WOULD BE PRECISELY WHAT IT HAS BEEN SINCE THEIR RELEASE - THE DESTRUCTION OF EVERYTHING, AND THE CREATION OF A NEW HOME FOR THEMSELVES. +

+ ALL ELSE WOULD BE BUT A MINOR DIVERSION. +

Cyan shrugs.  "For the moment, it matters not - whether this be distraction or reality, they have chosen the perfect place to set their finger.  We cannot ignore the assault upon Amber."

She bites her lip.  "I agree with Amabael, from what I have seen of Harbonah.  Single-minded, he would not pass up any opportunity to seize his goal.  I question, however, if I am needed here.  If this is naught but a conventional assault, does Amber seriously require our full attention?  If the Archons are not...are not..."  She trails off, frowning, as Berd shunts further information her way.

Then she speaks, low and rapid, and tiny sparks glitter in her sapphire eyes.  "We have contacted the nephillim - they show interest in our plan, but also have their own strategems in place, as we speak.  The Seraphim continue to scatter across Myriad Worlds, but with every passing moment more of them turn back upon their own paths, re-tracing their movements.  They...."

She blinks, shakes her head.  The light fades from her eyes.  "Perhaps you should show them," Cyan mutters.

Berd grumbles something indistinct, then breathes.

The glittering cloud expands into dark disk, within which floats an ellipse of shining points of light - so many they are at first a plane, then a sparkle as the view closes, then, when they fill the image a flow may barely be made out.  "The Myriad Worlds," Cyan states.  An ugly series of dark lines begins, slowly linking a region between both poles of infinity, like a chasm across the lights with cracks leading away from it.  "The breaks...more numerous now, but according to Berd, 'within parameters of growth'.  The Archons have not been focusing upon them to excess, but..."

Now thin, tiny lines begin to appear upon the image.  "Seraphim movement."  They form a random pattern across the Myriad Worlds, Berd zooming in to demonstrate their exact movements, then zooming out again.  Then some of their motion ceases before the colour of the line changes from the tip, beginning to flow back along itself.

"Those lines - the Archons have begun to retrace their steps."

More and more lines begin the tip-backward colour change.

"They're hunting."  Cyan squints.  "They're narrowing something down, each of them...sensing it?  Passing what they seek, then realizing they've gone past it, and doubling back?  Like a cosmic game of Hot-and-Cold?"  Berd snorts again.  "Or yes, like using the bisection method of linear convergence, thankyouverymuch," Cyan snaps, exasperated.

She closes her eyes.  "...Broken God," Cyan whispers.  "Are they still seeking that?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:30, Tue 14 Dec 2010.

Tahirah looks at the cloud in wonder.  Such a small thing, to represent, apparently, everything.  And beautiful.

A small choking sound manages to slip out from her hood as the dark lines appear, quickly stifled, with a visible shake of her head.  She steps forward, watching the Seraphim movements appear, and watches.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:53, Fri 17 Dec 2010.

"If you deem it necessary, then by all means leave the defence of Amber to us." Random says, nodding, "We do, after all, know the lay of the land around the city, and we do know a little about defending it."

"If the Archons are not coming here, then we are facing enemies no more dangerous than others we have seen over the years."

He pounds one fist angrilly on the armrest of the throne.  "And we can defeat them, just as we have defeated all those who came before."

Unconsciously, Tahirah begins to sway slightly, as she watches Berd's display.  She seems transfixed, perhaps even hypnotized, until abruptly, she speaks.

"No."

She reaches out with a hand, and tilts her head, almost as if sighting across her fingers.  "No," she says, again.  "They are not coming here.  And they are not lost, or seeking that which is.  They know exactly where they are going.  I see Crystals In The Clouds... precision hidden in seeming chaos.  Timing and distraction."

Somewhat more helpfully, she continues.  "They are going...here," she thrusts her hand out abruptly, not pointing with a single finger, but with all five splayed.   "And they will all reach these five points at the same moment."

"If it is the Broken God that they still seek, then they have found the pieces."

 

•• Oh shiny ••

A choir of approval ripples through the identical crowd and a murmur ensues.  One would be forced to realise they were not talking amongst themselves as they were one and shared all.  And even so, one of them stood slightly apart.

•• Five places at once • I know how they feel ••

A perplexing smile from the one standing slightly apart followed by a glance towards the others like her.

•• And who is the broken god • what is the significance of bringing the pieces together ••

•• One • and many • will have to assume something applicable to waging war • whether subversively or not ••

 

"Perhaps they aren't searching, just as she says." Fiona gestures towards Tahirah, "Perhaps they have been sent to collect something, or several somethings, whose locations were already known to them."

"Weapons of some sort would seem to be the most likely.  Or things which can be used to construct weapons.  Those five locations might be the places where the construction is to take place."

"Broken God."  Cyan nods again, as the pieces slowly begin to come toegether...and perhaps literally.  They may not have much time.  "A swift summary - Broken God was a being of vast power, torn apart and scattered through the Myriad Worlds."  She glances at Berd for a moment, then shakes her head.  "The Seraphim spent years tracking down its fragments, sometimes with assistance."

Sometimes with her assistance.

"The pieces of Broken God can be...'excited' is not exactly correct, but close enough.  When so empowered, they dampen supernatural abilities, prevent the use of magic, of travel between worlds, block what you know as 'Trump', stop the use of the Grand Pattern and the Logrus.  All things."  Her lips thin, her topaz eyes shading toward translucence.

"Perhaps they have been building something with the pieces they have collected.  Creating something.  They have demonstrated such prowess in the past."

Tahirah's conclusion puts fear in voice.  "Berd.  Where are these places?  Show us!"

Instantly, the image breaks into five, Berd bending his wills toward focusing upon those five locals, each picture spiralling closer and closer to where Tahirah indicates.

Images take shape, shimmering in the air.  Coalescing into five distinct locations.

In one place a mountain, or a series of them, stacked up, one plateau atop another, broader one, forming a vast ziggurat.  Rivers flow from the topmost point, falling from layer to layer in roaring cataracts...

The second place would be unremarkable - a world of forests and mountains and plains.  And then a closer look reveals that the mountains are moving, roaming ponderously across the world, leave long trails of bare earth in their wake.  Further behind, new vegetation covers the scarred ground...

A third place, a world of raging storm winds, and a land of bare stone, polished smooth by blowing dust, beneath a sullen red sun...

Fourth: a sprawling city of cyclopean architecture, crumbling into ruin.  And there are Archons here already... danioti, eshurianti and herenethi fighting against each other among shattered buildings which are, themselves, as large as the cities found in some worlds.  The sky burns, and lightning falls in endless cascades, adding to the ravages of simple entropy...

And the fifth world is strangest of all... a land of elementary geometric shapes, brightly coloured, like a child's painting.  There are people and animals here, but strange and distorted, almost two dimensional in form.  Only one thing breaks the simplicity of this landscape - a silver thread which swells as the viewpoint moves closer, to become a gleaming metal tower stretching from earth to sky...

The Myriad Worlds are wonderous indeed - every vista Berd opens is something new to Cyan, travelled as she is.  So many places she should see with her own eyes, so many places and so little time.  Unlike the demigods around her, she is no immortal.

A wry smile touches her lips, then she gasps, leaning forward as the fourth scene flows into view.  Archons battling.  "Seraphim and nephillim?" she wonders.  "Or merely rivals?"  It could be either, given the fractitious tendancies of their enemy.

Then the fifth, and a memory strikes her.  "Towers.  They have built such things before - transmitters, THX 1138 named them.  With storage areas.  And apparently others.  I remember them building power within the tower to strike back at Jack when he devastated their forces from within the Elemental Node."  Her finger traces a path along the slender, steely needle in the image.  "Can you show us more closely, Berd?  Tahirah, what do you make of this?"

Her sapphire gaze strays to the single Archon among them.  "Amabael - do you have knowledge of these things?"

+ TOWERS MAY BE USED FOR A NUMBER OF PURPOSES. + Amabael responds, + TO IMPRISON DIFFICULT OR IMPORTANT CAPTIVES.  TO FOCUS ENERGIES INHERENT IN A PLACE.  AS MARKERS OR BEACONS.  AS STATEMENTS OF MASTERY.  WITHOUT KNOWING MORE OF THIS PLACE, IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE MORE PRECISE. +

The viewpoint slides in, closer to the tower, revealing that the surface is covered with a myriad openings, small only in comparison to the tower itself, and... something distracts Cyan for a moment... the world with the warring Archons draws her attention, though she can not see why at first.

 

•• Narf • I say •• Narf ••

An eerie giggle rippled through the group of Banglen-Yp's.

 

Fiona ignores the strange behaviour of the Banglen-Yps.  After all, for them it does seem to be their normal activity.

Instead she moves closer, studying the images which are, apparently, being generated by the small dragon.  "This world... " she indicates the colourful one, with the strangely misshapen inhabitants, "It looks wrong.  Is that the Archon's doing?  Or is it something else?"

Amabael responds, + IT IS, PERHAPS, THE NORMAL APPEARANCE OF THE WORLD.  WE CAN CONCEIVE OF NOTHING WHICH ARCHONS WOULD DO WHICH WOULD PRODUCE SUCH A RESULT.  THEIR METHODS ARE MORE DESTRUTIVE. +

"Of course," Cyan murmurs, stepping closer.  "Thank you, Amabael...that warrents immediate attention, I suspect."  They should move to check the tower this moment.  Only...

Her eyes narrow, brightening slightly, and she purses her lips in thought as the others speak.  Then the bard sucks in a breath.  "Right," she whispers, and her back straightens.  "There."  Her finger stabs toward the fourth image.  "It is not only a battle between factions of Seraphim - they are perhaps nephillim, perhaps Seraphim who have foresaken their former views.  Berd - see if you can mark the sides, extrapolating from Right's movement."

She swings around to face the others.  "Five places of critical importance, where the Seraphim gather.  We must discover what they plan at these places, while their armies attack Amber...possibly to distract us, possibly to hold us in place while they prepare a finishing move.  And even now potential allies struggle against those who would destroy everything."

The bard turns back to the image.  "Amber can hold against the enemies here - we must assist elsewhere, where their true strength musters.  We must scout for knowledge.  And we must do so now.  That is my feeling - what say you all?  And where would you go?"

Her hand rises, indicates two worlds - the battle and the tower.  "I would begin here and here.  Dangerous to split our forces, but..."

"Then why split them?" interjects Random.  "Deal with them one at a time.  If all of these are places which are important to the Archons, you may have to visit all of them eventually."

He considers for a moment, "We can't spare any troops to assist you in this, so you are probably better bringing your entire force to bear on each location, in sequence."

"Time," Cyan whispers.  "We may have little to none.  Scouting parties to seek out each place, to see if our full force must be brought to bear upon them."  She turns to face the king.  "If the Archons are pressuring us here, it may well be because they need us held here, now.  They must know the army they have fielded can do nothing else to Amber, in the end."

She returns her gaze to the 'screens'.  "Therefore we may be facing an endgame preparation of their own, in these five places.  While splitting ones forces is often the death knell, we may not have time to visit them in order."

Turning back to the king, she nods decisively.  "I myself will go to this place, first."  She indicates the world where the Archons battle.  "I recognize at least one of them - an ally.  Berd?"

The little drake reaches out with his mind through the crystalline reality of Amber, preparing himself as Cyan shuffles through her small pack of palanqueti....

"They've split their forces," Tahirah notes.  "If we focus ours, it would give us the advantage in each location...and if they require all five for their purpose, then we have all the time we need.  If we begin at the one you've chosen, where they are already embattled, our joining seems less likely to be noted and reported.  If we can strike there and turn the tide quickly, then perhaps we can move on to a second location before word can spread, disrupting both without splitting ourselves."

"I disagree."

It is Aaron's voice which replies to Tahirah's summation of their position.  "We have no proof that they need all five, only that they have chosen to send their forces to all five.  If they only need four of them, or three, or even one, and we choose the wrong one to block...  Or equally bad... what if they just need to take any one of the five in order to succeed?"

"We've seen that they are using an attack on Amber as a decoy, so how do we know that some of these places aren't also decoys?  Time and again we have witnessed their use of cunning and guile.  Sometimes they have shown themselves to be so crafty that I've wondered if they even know their own plans."

Shuffling through the cards, Cyan allows the others to continue the discussion, considering their responses.  Both Aaron and Tahirah make very valid points.  Normally, she would completely agree with Tahirah - fragmentation makes for poor strategy.  But now?  Desperate times.  They may not have the luxury of going with the solid strategy, as Aaron points out.

Which of them is correct?

Her fingers stray across a card - the Tired Soldier.  It comes free into her hand: the image of a warrior at rest, his back against his rucksack, all shaded by the overhanging boughs of an oak tree.  Though he is weary and scarred in both body and spirit, the man's grim stare still holds resolute determination.  Her ruby eyes sharpen as she studies the picture, and at a flick of her finger it rings like crystal.

Colours swim in the palanquet as she focuses.

"James of Amber," Cyan breathes.  "If you can, please answer."

"...James...nothing."  Biting back a soldier's oath, Cyan flicks the palanquet again, her eyes clearing to pale, pale topaz.  Then she nods.  "The card is not dead.  He is there, but there is a wall."  Her momentary fear subsides and her eyes shift to a rich emerald.  "Berd?"

The drake rolls his glittering orbs, but sets to seeking out the veteran.

"Tahirah, I will be going to this location."  Cyan indicates the world where the battle transpires.  "Whether or not the others choose their own paths, I would appreciate your assistance."

A heated discussion starts then.  There is too much at stake for all to be risked on a failed gamble.  Unfortunately opinions on what constitutes the least risky course of action vary.

Some want to stay and defend Amber.  Some want to split up and take on the Archons in as many locations as possible, simultaneously.  Some want to focus on a single location and strike hard, then move on to the next.  This latter group are also divided, unable to decide on which location should be chosen first.

The princes and princesses of Amber are equally undecided.

The only thing everybody can apparently agree on is that something must be done.

Cyan shakes her head.  This is getting nowhere.  She considers the situation, noting that the Princes and Princesses of Amber can certainly defend their land ablely against the army arrayed against it.  As for the five locations, she must begin somewhere.

Again, her eyes rise to the battle.  There.  Allies, and a precarious position - the place to start.

Her eyes sweep across the others, weighing, assessing.  She holds James' card in her hand, still.  Then the bard nods once, decisively.  "No time," she states clearly, her trained voice ringing through the room.  "We all must make a choice - for once not by concensus, but specific to each of our spirits.  I begin here."  Her free hand stabs a finger at the battle. "Those with me, come now, or I fear you will have to find your own path.  Berd?"

Still trying to reach James, the drake focuses on the image and his eyes begin to blaze.  The image burns white - a portal into the Underflow - and Cyan strides forward to vanish into its endless brilliance.

 

•• We are off to see the wizard • the wonderful wizard of Oz ••

Holding hands half of the Banglen-Yp's skipped and dance the light fandango into the light that may not have been at the end of a tunnel but nevertheless hopefulyl leading to a brighter future.

•• Be good now • we will send you a post card ••

The parting-greeting came from both groups of Banglen-Yp's and was aimed at all and none.

Then the last of the ones heading into the light tripped the light fantastic and was gone.

 

Slinking forth out of nowhere, as if a reversed-polarity-cat from Cheshire it was, a sabretooth tiger sprung into the light and was then gone, leaving not even a grin behind -- although the last to fade was its behind.

Tahirah hesitates for a surprisingly long time.  Indeed, very nearly too long, before she finally steps forward to follow.

...Of course, it's not quite too long, and her pure white robes blend briefly with the shining light of the portal, almost making her vanish a moment before she does, in fact, vanish.