Something takes shape in Luke's mind.

Nervousness.  Not too strange, considering they are troops in a combat zone.  What they are worried about, though, is unusual.  The rain.  And the trees.

A vision of "home": cloudless blue sky, so dark that it's almost black at the zenith.  Endless sand and rock beneath, with occasional patches of grass and scrub.  Their thoughts fill Luke's head: Far-far come we, two hundred-days and a half from home.  Strange is this land.  Not pleasant dryness.  Water always, filling each breath.

Indentured soldiers, most likely.  Or flat-out slaves.  Luke's lip curled and his hands clenched into fists.  Freedom.  That had been his goal, oh so long ago.  Freedom from slavery, freedom from jealousy, freedom from loss, that terrible loss when he realized his father loved them more.

People always complained about his pride, but pride hadn't driven him to rebel.

"No death for you, here," he muttered.  Reaching out, he begins the laborious task of settling them to sleep - comfortably.  Were he stronger, more capable (like his father, oh curse his father) he would make the attempt to seek their homeland and send them back.  But now?  It was all he could do to ensure they will not come to blows.

He had no wish to kill these people, if slaves they were.

Gradually, in ones and twos, the troops slow their movement.  They yawn and blink wearily, a man here, another there.  The dog-like animals settle down, dropping to stretch out on the ground.  Eventually there is no sign of life in the camp, save for a thunderous snoring from one of the men, who lays on his back with his mouth wide open.  Weapons lay nearby, forgotten for the moment.

And the thoughts are replaced by dreams.  Visions of faces (family and friends?), of places, and of battles.

Luke realises that he was mistaken.  No slaves these... professional soldiers who miss the barren sands of their home.  The damp coolness, the grass, the trees... all are alien to them, and make them feel uncomfortable.

Closer, and he can see their leathery, wrinkled skin.

"Not local, are they?" Jonnee has come up behind him,  He bends down to pick up a weapon, a straight blade, with a wide, heavy, curved tip, almost like a cross between axe and sword.

"No," Luke replies, almost musing.  "From pretty far out in the worlds - not around here, in any case." He scrubs his face with one hand for a moment.  "I hate wars," the dark man muttered.  "Stupid, stupid waste."

A gesture followed, out and over the unconscious men.  "I thought they might be slaves, but they're not.  They're...mercenaries?  Or just soldiers brought here by whatever rules them.  Still, I'd rather not kill them."  He pondered the weapons. "Destroying their gear would get them killed.  Probably by their own lord - they've been brought all this way, they still need to be fed...it's a drain.  Killing them would remove that issue."

One eyebrow rose.  "I guess we...walk on by."

"Never thought of Archons being the sort to take care of their armies.  Always thought they let them fend for themselves." Jonnee says with a low chuckle, "But you're probably right.  Better to let them take up time and resources, for now at least.  I'll put in a report when we get to the city, and one of the Family can decide what to do about them."

"Jov'nak." a blur of movement, and one of the Brintizzi is standing next to Jonnee.  "Tell the army to move up.  We go round the edge of the camp, that way, and back into the woods there.  Leave them all sleeping.  Clear?  No killing."

The reptilian warrior is gone...

The two men start to work their way towards the path back into the forest, and before they've gone half way, Brintizzi scouts are passing them at speed.  One of them stops, briefly, and speaks to Jonnee.

"Rest of the army is about 200 yards behind, and know what to do when they get here.  Even the Lekmui will behave.  They won't like passing enemy troops without a slaughter, but they'll obey orders."

"Maybe they let them fend for themselves, but the armies have commanders, and the commanders answer to the Archons."  Luke shook his head.  "Too much pressure, and it'll be easier for them to just march them into a suicide situation than keep caring for them, I expect."

He shot a quick look at James.  "Glad you've made that clear to your Lekmui.  Whatever that is.  Care to give an explanation?"  Politeness.  As his father's daughter would no doubt say, it cost nothing.  Made more allies than Luke explaining exactly what he'd do if he found out they'd decided to massacre these troups while they slept.

Maybe you could teach an old dog new tricks, he mused.

"Much further?  Or are we almost home?"  His senses reached out ahead, seeking more issues; if there was a camp, there could be scouts, as well.

Jonnee chuckles, "The Lekmui are... almost like you, or me, or Cyan, or James.  At least physically.  There are differences.  They don't have these."  Twin blades of bone slide out from his forearms.  "Or my speed.  Or your own trick.  But apart from that, they're close enough to pass for one of us under a full moon."

The blades retract, and he taps a forefinger against his temple.  "Here though...  Here they're different.  Berserkers, every one of them.  And dangerous even when they aren't raving mad.  There is no word in their language for mercy, or surrender.  An enemy who offers to surrender is still an enemy, and enemies are to be killed."

"Loyal to me though, with the sort of loyalty that'd see them charge, unarmed, into a crowd of Archons if I told them to do it.  Something to do with an old legend about a king who would come to lead them."

He pauses and looks around, before tilting his head back to look at the sky, "We're getting close.  Perhaps an hour's walk.  Two, tops."

"I am not..."  Luke bit off the irritated response, continuing in a less-sharp tone.  "I'm not what you see, Jonnee.  Let's try to avoid comparing me to James, hmm?"  He grimaced.  "Now that sounds like a shot at James.  It's not, it's the entire idea of being compared to what some worlds name 'humanity'.  This...body is just a shell, that's all.  Something to avoid shouting 'Luke is here!' to all with the eyes to see."

He snorted.  "Something to keep me from being recognized, as well."

The dark man continued for a few more steps before speaking. "So these berserkers.  They believe YOU are their king?  How did you manage that trick?"  'Trick'.  Like 'his trick', as Jonnee put it, though in that case it was a lot like describing a star as a reaction to gravity.  He cocked an eyebrow. "And...how do they fight Archons?  Berserker fury seems less-than-optimal against the Seraphim."

Jonnee shrugs, "Sorry man, didn't mean to upset you."

"I didn't manage it at all.  I was leading the army along, minding my own business, and I came to this place where they had a fifty foot tall statue, an old one, so old that all the details were gone from it.  The people seemed friendly enough, so I spoke to some of them, and they kept looking at me like I had two heads.  So I asked them what was up, and they told me the story... that the statue was of the Fire-Haired King, who would come to lead them, who could make swords appear from nowhere, and could run like the wind.  Turned out they had no idea who this king was, and red hair is unknown to their people."

"I tried to tell them I wasn't their king, and that I was just passing through with my army.  So then they brought out the Lekmui, who were kept locked in a prison, because nobody could control them.  They told them I was the prophesied king, and gave them to me for my army.  I guess they saw it as a chance to get rid of a bunch of dangerous berserkers."

He shakes his head, "It's weird.  I see all these places where they know us, only it isn't us.  Did you know there's a world where they tell stories about a holy warrior who, apart from his name, is a dead ringer for Aaron.  Sword and all.  Others too.  And he's not the only one.  It's like there are... echoes... of us all, in the history of hundreds of places.  Maybe thousands."

"It's fine, Jonnee Kay," Luke muttered, waving it off.  He sighs.  "One of my buttons, so to speak."  The story Kay gave caught his curiousity, and he held his silence, letting the man speak.  Finally it ran down, and Luke sucked in a heavy breath.  "Hard thing to consider."

He waved his arm around himself.  "Have you seen this universe from outside, with Berd?  The Myriad Worlds?  They're so close they interpenetrate.  They mix.  They touch each other.  And they're all held in play by the poles between them, the Pattern and the Logrus, and the Underflow courses through them, beneath them.  It's not really a surprise that there's some mirroring happening."

His smile grew bleak.  "Some people say that means what happens in these other worlds isn't real.  I think that's a rationalization from those with the power to fiddle with reality, allowing them to keep their consciences clean.  Each of these echoes is real - it's just inspired by something from a nearby 'world'.  At least, that's how I see it.  And the more you do, the bigger you are, the more noise you make...the more the echoes, the ripples spread, to mix the metaphor.  Go with a stone in a pond, or a boulder in a river.  It creates those ripples, and they move out - the bigger the stone, the bigger the ripples, the further they go.  They change, they attenuate, they hit other stones or ripples and warp and become different, but..."

The dark man grinned. "I guess it sometimes comes in handy; certainly for you and the Lekmui.  Aaron was still recognizable, eh?  Was he missing any bits?  So you've seen yourself...ever see anyone else?" He shrugged.  "I'm not fishing.  I might not even spread echoes, myself, due to certain factors of my existence.  And be careful if you bump into something that looks like the old bastard, Berd.  It might not be an echo.  It might be part of him, and one really doesn't want to mess around with that."

"Aaron missing bits?  How could that even happen?" Jonnee replies, grinning, "It just doesn't seem possible."

"Do you smell that?  The sea?"

Their path through the forest reaches the top of a rise, and the trees grow more sparse.  Beyond, and perhaps a mile away, they can see the outlying buildings of the city.  Behind them is a wall, topped by green banners bearing the sign of the Unicorn, and beyond that the city proper sprawls across the flank of Kolvir, climbing the mountainside.  The castle is up there, clearly visible in the afternoon sun.

"Was a bit off, but close enough."

Luke breathed in and out, taking in the sea air. "That I do, Jonnee.  That I do."  He laughed, a genuine chuckle that trailed off at the sight of Kolvir.  His mouth twisted in a grimace.  "Beautiful vista, that.  But not somewhere I'd rather travel, given my druthers.  Seems I'm stuck.  Well done getting us here, Jonnee Kay.  Slower, but more comfortably than I could have managed."

The Broken Pattern to Berd's Pattern; that was Luke.

"Let's get you and your friends in, and we'll have a sit-down chat with royalty."

Getting into the city isn't too much of a problem.  Jonnee knows people among those who guard the gates, and words that will get him past those he doesn't know.  But even he can not bring an army into the heart of Amber in time of war.

Tne Brintizzi, the Lekmui, and the countless others who make up the army he has fetched out of Shadow, are ordered to make camp outside the first wall, while Jonnee, Luke, Aaron and Crethe are allowed within, and escorted up through the city to the castle.

Time passes, along with a variety of flunkies, and before too long the four find themselves ushered into a chamber to await an audience with a member of the royal family.

While they wait, Jonnee and Aaron speculate on who it might be.

"Cain." Jonnee says, authoritatively. "I work for him, so he's bound to take an interest."

"More likely Fiona.  We've had dealings with her before." Aaron replies.

"Either makes little difference," Luke muttered, "as long as we can get some straight information, and dump ours in a place where it won't just vanish."  He prowled the room like a cat, studying the furnishings, examining the walls, and taking time to assess whatever art he saw.  He didn't like this place, this heavily calcified reality - unnaturally so - with its conniving, untrustworthy family.

He also knew very well that his opinions might be read quite easily by one or two of them. Pity, but little I can do about it.  Little, save shield his mind, cloaking it in a similar fashion to Berd's.

"I'm not familiar with all of the royal family - only the few your little group has met, Aaron.  So I'm hoping it's one of them."  He grinned.  "Devil you know, and all that."

After a wait which seems interminable, the door opens, and admits a dark haired man dressed in black and silver, and a woman with flame red hair and green eyes, clad in a gown that matches those eyes.

Jonnee bows, twice, "Prince Corwin, Princess Fiona.  I'm pleased to see you both well."

"Caine's agent.  Jonnee Kay isn't it?" Corwin replies, and scans the other faces in the group curiously.  "What brings you here?"

"I've brought an army to help defend the city, and my friends have information to offer, concerning the enemy."

Fiona regards Luke intently, her own expression unreadable, "I'd like to hear this information."

Luke studied them with a dubious eye.  The man...well, he hadn't heard much about Corwin beyond the bloody books someone had written about him.  That, however, told him enough.  Fiona?  She was a different matter.  He didn't bother reaching out to her, spiritually; she'd know, no doubt, and he'd be in trouble.  Instead, he studied the area between them and around himself, searching for signs of any psychic or magical intrustion.  It wouldn't put her off passively picking up information, but he didn't care about that.

"Let's start with my information, then move to Aaron's," he began.  "Why?  Mine's simple.  Your agents, Princess Fiona, have brokered a truce with the majority of the Archon forces.  It might take a little time for that to trickle down through the various worlds and get to the front lines, but it has happened, and the Seraphim's leader is more interested in what he gets out of this truce than he is in burning everything to the ground."

The dark man shrugged.  "Seems like a good time to hold the line until the word comes through.  Maybe with a fancy speech or two."

"A truce?  Interesting.  And what, exactly, was offered to this leader that made him change his mind about the war.?" Fiona doesn't seem hostile, exactly, but she isn't exactly brimming over with enthusiasm either.

"Given what we've seen, and heard, of this enemy I'm not sure what their leader might accept, that would also be acceptable to us."

Corwin, meanwhile, takes Jonnee to one side, and the two of them talk quietly, presumably about the new army and its deployment...

"I expected this, didn't I? The war is about territory,"<blue> Luke begins.  <Blue>"The Archons will continue to reproduce until, at some point in the impossible future, they fill the Myriad Worlds.  Their thought was to reduce the Myriad Worlds to chaos again, or something similar - something they could use, mold, and do with as they chose, and wouldn't have to worry about sharing it with anyone."  He cocked an eyebrow.  "I'm simplifying.  In any case, we've offered them an alternative."

Corwin...probably wasn't going to like this.

"Thanks to your grandfather...Dworkin?  He is your grandfather, or something like that?  Thanks to him, we've come into touch with the spirit of another...universe?  Another place, not like this one.  Beyond this one, beyond you Pattern and Logrus.  A place where Archons could be welcome.  Where they could live without concern of needing to battle over territory, where they could return her to observe other life without needing to kill it.  To learn.  To find value in other life." 

He shrugged. "Archons have.  And still do."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:02, Tue 25 Nov 2014.

"A good alternative to a war which is proving to be very costly for us." Fiona pauses, mulling something over.  Something which definitely appears to leave a bad taste in her mouth.

"To be honest, I don't believe we can win the war.  At least half of the Golden Circle has fallen to the enemy, and every time we drive them back from Arden, they find a new way to force their way back in."

A glance at Corwin, still in conference with Jonnee, and now Aaron.

"If you think this new solution can work, then we have no reason to argue against it.  We are losing.  This truce might be the only way we can survive."

"It's not really surprising," Luke muttered. "The enemy can throw all kinds of conventional troops at you -" a bit of your own tactics... "- to wear your forces down.  And against Archons?"  He sniffs.  "To be honest, the only reason we've won battles against their forces directly was due to us catching a limited group of their people off-guard and throwing the resources of four worlds in their faces, or a large chunk of their number turning out to be from another group of Archons that actually support us."

"There's no winning against their numbers and power, not when they're united.  And they are - they're not just at war, they're furious about a bunch of things that have happened, both before and during this conflict."  He sighed, wearily rubbing his neck.  "This is our best shot.  It has stopped the war - that'll come through sooner or later - and gives an opportunity to end this peacefully.  Any...disruption to try to gain some kind of ephemeral advantage over them will put us back to square one without any chance of further discussion."

His lips twisted into a grimace and he dropped his voice a tad to keep the others from hearing.  "Considering the last plan of the people who have the most experience out in the field was for Cyan to get her brain burned trying to convince the Archons that this war is folly...well, we're a little more happy with the way things are going now."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Wed 03 Dec 2014.

Another pause, then, "Then the best thing we can do is try to hold them back until word of the truce gets through to the troops that are attacking here.  That should, if we're lucky, bring their advance to halt.  It's certainly better than any other chance we've been given against them."

"Corwin?"

At her call the prince of Amber turns his head to look at her for a moment.  "Agreed.  It looks like our best option." he says, before returning to his discussion with Jonnee and Aaron.

"We'll send orders out to the troops, and have them conduct a holding action, which is just about all they were able to achieve anyway."

"If there's anything you need for the truce itself, let us know."

The pauses had begun to disturb Luke.  Without giving any sense of his plan, and still behind his shrouding, he opened himself up to the world, drinking in the sensations of power in the area.

"I don't personally require anything with regards to the truce," he noted, "though your offer is appreciated.  I'm not the one actually bargaining - that would be Cyan and James." He grimaced.  "They've lost everyone else.  Including Aaron, who seems to have found his way here."

A flat-eyed stare at Aaron followed.

"Those two will give it their all," he continues.  "Even if their all requires them to die.  They've got this hare-brained idea that they're the last, best hope for everyone."  Slowly the dark man turned in a circle, his lips pursed, then nodded.  "I'm getting that feeling as well.  So said plainly, if anyone has any clever plans going right now aimed at killing the leader of the Archons, or attacking them from a different angle, or whatever, those plans should go on hold.  Right now, it's edging into the positive area, but one wrong move could tip it the other way."

He rubbed his forehead.  "I know that when pressed, people can make decisions without consultation.  So it might be wise to put the word out, in case someone other than those in this room is planning something."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:55, Tue 16 Dec 2014.

There are patterns of force, a web of energies centred on Fiona, and radiating out to connect with Corwin and, doubtless, others beyond the room.  It seems that Luke is talking to somebody who is in a conference call, passing his words on to others, and probably receiving their opinions, questions and advice in return.

Fiona nods slowly, and says, "I'll make sure everybody knows.  Hopefully it won't come down to a sacrifice on the part of your allies... but we'll stay out of it for now.  I'm not sure we could achieve anything anyway."

"Your people are the closest thing we have to experts in this, so it would be stupid to get in their way.  And nobody has ever accused my family of being stupid."

"Good to hear." He offered a small bow.  "My thanks."

Luke had pride, certainly, but it was tempered by experience and a certain sensibility.  Calling attention to the fact that he had figured out she was already in communication with everyone of note would simply give away too much of his own capabilities while possibly irking a powerful being...and for what?  A moment's worth of snotty superiority?  There was nothing of value to be gained, and a great deal to lose.

"So that begs the question of 'where next'?"  He frowned.  Information still came to him, bit by bit, from his father.  "But we need to find this Dworkin fellow.  There's information he has that Cyan and James require."  He raised his hands.  "I know, I know...straight answers, unlikely.  But to get to that point, we first need to locate him, so I figure start one step at a time.  You wouldn't happen to know where he is keeping himself these days?"

Fiona frowns, "Usually somewhere below the castle.  He likes to wander the cellars and the dungeons for some reason.  Usually.  Sometimes he scares a servant, or stops and talks to a guard about nothing much.  But his 'nothing much' can reveal a lot about things in and around the city, so I asked the guards and servants to report all encounters."

"Some of my siblings have asked for similar reports."

A sigh, and a shrug, "As far as I can tell, nobody has seen the old man for a little while.  At least a month, and possibly longer.  He might still be down there... just not in places frequented by our people.  Or he might be deliberately avoiding us.  I don't believe the rumour that he's dead - that one circulates too often, and always turns out to be wrong."