Roger Zelazny - Blue Horse, Dancing Mountains

I took a right at the Burning Wells and fled smokeghosts across theUplands of Artine. I slew the leader of the Kerts of Shern as her flockharried me from hightowered perches among the canyons of that place. Theothers abandoned the sport, and we were through, beneath a green rain out ofa slate-colored sky. Onward and down then, to where the plains swirled dustdevils that sang of sad eternities in rock that once they were.

At last the winds fell off and Shask, my deadly mount, blue stallionout of Chaos, slowed to a stop before vermilion sands.

"What is the matter?" I asked.

"We must cross this neck of the desert to reach the Dancing Mountains,"Shask replied.

"And how long a journey might that be?"

"Most of the rest of the day," he said. "It is narrowest here. We havepaid in part for this indulgence already. The rest will come in themountains themselves, for now we must cross where they are very active."

I raised my canteen and shook it.

"Worth it," I said, "so long as they don't really dance in Richterterms."

"No, but at the Great Divide between the shadows of Amber and theshadows of Chaos there is some natural shifting activity in play where theymeet."

"I'm no stranger to shadow-storms, which is what that sounds like--apermanent shadow-storm front. But I wish we could just push on throughrather than camp there."

"I told you when you chose me, Lord Corwin, that I could bear youfarther than any other mount by day. But by night I become an unmovingserpent, hardening to stone and cold as a demon's heart, thawing come dawn."

"Yes, I recall," I said, --and you have served me well, as Merlin saidyou might. Perhaps we should overnight this side of the mountains and crosstomorrow."

"The front, as I said, shifts. Likely, at some point, it would join youin the foothills or before. Once you reach the region, it matters not wherewe spend the night. The shadows will dance over us or near us. Dismount now,please, unsaddle, and remove your gear, that I may shift."

"To what?" I asked as I swung to the ground.

"I've a lizard form would face this desert best."

"By all means, Shask, be comfortable, be efficient. Be a lizard."

I set about unburdening him. It was good to be free again.

Shask as blue lizard was enormously fast and virtually tireless. He gotus across the sands with daylight to spare, and as I stood beside himcontemplating the trail that led upward through the foothills, he spoke in asibilant tone: "As I said, the shadows can catch us anywhere around here,and I still have strength to take us up for an hour or so before we camp,rest, and feed. What is your choice?"

"Go," I told him.

Trees changed their foliage even as I watched. The trail wasmaddeningly irregular, shifting its course, changing its character beneathus. Seasons came and went--a flurrying of snow followed by a blast of hotair, then springtime and blooming flowers. There were glimpses of towers andmetal people, highways, bridges, tunnels gone in moments. Then the entiredance would shift away and we would simply be mounting a trail again.

At last, we made camp in a sheltered area near to a summit. Cloudscollected as we ate, and a few rumbles under rolled in the distance. I mademyself a low lean-to. Shask transformed himself into a great dragonheaded,winged, feathered serpent, and coiled nearby.

"A good night to you, Shask," I called out, as the first drops fell.

"And-to-you-Corwin," he said softly.

I lay back, closed my eyes, and was asleep almost immediately. How longI slept, I do not know. I was jarred out of it, however, by a terrific clapof thunder which seemed to occur directly overhead.

I found myself sitting up, having reached out to and half drawnGrayswandir, before the echoes died. I shook my head and sat listening.Something seemed to be missing and I could not determine what.

There came a brilliant flash of light and another thunderclap. Iflinched at them and sat waiting for more, but only silence followed.Silence...

I stuck my hand outside the lean-to, then my head. It had stoppedraining. That was the missing item--the splatter of droplets.

My gaze was attracted by a glow from beyond the nearby summit. I pulledon my boots and departed the shelter. Outside, I buckled on my sword beltand fastened my cloak at the neck. I had to investigate. In a place likethis, any activity might represent a threat.

I touched Shask--who indeed felt stony--as I passed, and made my way towhere the trail had been. It was still there, though diminished in width,and I set foot upon it and climbed upward. The light source for which I washeaded seemed to be moving slightly. Now, faintly, in the distance, I seemedto hear the sound of rainfall. Perhaps it was coming down on the other sideof the peak.

As I advanced, I became convinced that it was storming not too faraway. I could now hear the moaning of wind within the splashing.

I was suddenly dazzled by a flash from beyond the crest. A sharp reportof thunder kept it company. I halted for only a moment. During that time,amid the ringing in my ears, I thought that I heard the sound of a cacklinglaugh.

Trudging ahead, I came at last to the summit. Immediately, the windassailed me, bearing a full load of moisture. I drew my cloak closed andfastened it down the front as I made my way forward.

Several paces then, and I beheld a hollow, below and to my left. It waseerily illuminated by dancing orbs of ball lightning. There were two figureswithin it--one seated on the ground, the other, cross-legged, hanging Upsidedown in the air with no apparent means of support, across from him. I chosethe most concealed route I could and headed toward them.

They were lost to my sight much of the way, as the course I had takenbore me through areas of fairly dense foliage. Abruptly, however, I knewthat I was near when the rain ceased to fall upon me and I no longer feltthe pressures of the wind. It was as if I had entered the still eye of ahurricane.

Cautiously, I continued my advance, winding up on my belly, peeringamid branches at the two old men. Both regarded the invisible cubes of athree-dimensional game, pieces hung above a board on the ground betweenthem, squares of their aerial positions limned faintly in fire. The manseated upon the ground was a hunchback, and he was smiling, and I knew him.It was Dworkin Barimen, my legendary ancestor, filled with ages and wisdomand godlike powers, creator of Amber, the Pattern, the Trumps, and maybereality itself as I understood it. Unfortunately, through much of my dealingwith him in recent times, he'd also been more than a little bit nuts.

Merlin had assured me that he was recovered now, but I wondered.Godlike beings are often noted for some measure of nontraditionalrationality. It just seems to go with the territory. I wouldn't put it pastthe old bugger to be using sanity as a pose while in pursuit of someparadoxical end.

The other man, whose back was to me, reached forward and moved a piecethat seemed to correspond to a pawn. It was a representation of the Chaosbeast known as a Fire Angel. When the move was completed the lightningflashed again and the thunder cracked and my body tingled. Then Dworkinreached out and moved one of his pieces, a Wyvern. Again, the thunder andlightning, the tingling. I saw that a rearing Unicorn occupied the place ofthe King among Dworkin's pieces, a representation of the palace at Amber onthe square beside it. His opponent's King was an erect Serpent, theThelbane--the great needlelike palace of the Kings of Chaos--beside it.

Dworkin's opponent advanced a Piece, laughing as he did so. "Mandor,"he announced. "He thinks himself puppet-master and king-maker." After thecrash and dazzle, Dworkin moved a piece. "Corwin," he said.