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How many miles to Babylon
Sep. 30th, 2011 10:17 pmAmber and her golden towers receded in the distance as Benedict urged his latest horse to greater speeds. The towering warhorse was no Morgenstern, but its muscular legs still thundered along the ground as it trotted away from Kolvar. When he was far enough away that the substance of the world around him lost the solidity he associated exclusively with Amber, Benedict reached for Shadow and began to ride.
The clouds that had been drifting through a clear sky grew heavier, taking on a tinge of sickening chartreuse as he rode towards them. Shadows darkened the ground as clouds blocked the sun and the air grew heavy and stagnant with the threat of rain. The horse snorted at the sudden change, but a touch on the reins was all it needed to hold its course. A cold wind from some far-off land of snow and ice began to blow, clearing the clouds but leaving behind the heavy oppressive air as chartreuse clouds parted to reveal periwinkle skies.
The horse reared in protest as the sharp scent of salt began to permeate the heavy air and the faintest smile tugged at Benedict's lips as he twitched the reins and the beast resumed its gallop. He'd been deliberate with this hellride, manipulating shadow to bring him somewhere as unlike the horse's birthplace as imagination allowed, and it had been the scent of salt that had spooked the beast, not the periwinkle sky or the ruddy sunlight. He rode the beast through shadow after shadow, relentlessly driving.
Rain that stung like a hail of tiny stones and sizzled as it hit grass became a shower of silver-veined gold leaves. The sky swirled in a riot of pale pink and orange flame-licked clouds as the grass beneath the horse's feet grew checkerboard, alternately white and black, cracking as hoof met individual blades of granite. Mountains became giants with tortoise shell backs and rivers grew red with the blood of weeping valleys.
With every step away from Amber, the world grew more wild until Shadow itself began to overtake order, until even Benedict could not hold the forces of Chaos at bay and was forced to relinquish his hold on reality. If the horse he'd ridden would go mad, it'd have gone mad three or four worlds ago, when the sky had turned grass green and the ground under them a opalescent swirl of blue and white marble, but the horse traveled gamely on, shying here from some strange creature of six silver legs and furred face, there from a flower as brilliant red as rubies that snapped onyx teeth as they passed it on the road.
He road a few more miles into the swirl of Chaos, not far enough to encroach but far enough to prove to himself that this was a place where Chaos reined and the Pattern's order was an unwelcome interloper, then stopped and dismounted. Benedict loosened the blade at his side, the hand of silver and cold fire clicking lightly against the hilt, and began to circle his mount. The horse's eyes were wide and wild with fear, and its hooves danced nervously against the fleshy, strangely yielding but firm ground on which they stood. But most importantly, the horse did not bolt, instead waiting as Benedict made his slow circuit, examining the horse with an experienced eye. When he was satisfied, Benedict reached into his pocket and pulled out a jeweled toned apple and offered it to the horse, which snorted in surprise for a moment before the scent of the familiar fruit drew its attention.
As the animal noisily crunched its treat, Benedict remounted and waited. When the horse had swallowed the last morsel of apple, he turned it sharply in the direction they'd come and began riding again, reaching again for the stuff of reality, of Shadow and Order, to open a different road, one calmer than the one he had trod before yet with the same intent.
All roads led to Amber, after all
The clouds that had been drifting through a clear sky grew heavier, taking on a tinge of sickening chartreuse as he rode towards them. Shadows darkened the ground as clouds blocked the sun and the air grew heavy and stagnant with the threat of rain. The horse snorted at the sudden change, but a touch on the reins was all it needed to hold its course. A cold wind from some far-off land of snow and ice began to blow, clearing the clouds but leaving behind the heavy oppressive air as chartreuse clouds parted to reveal periwinkle skies.
The horse reared in protest as the sharp scent of salt began to permeate the heavy air and the faintest smile tugged at Benedict's lips as he twitched the reins and the beast resumed its gallop. He'd been deliberate with this hellride, manipulating shadow to bring him somewhere as unlike the horse's birthplace as imagination allowed, and it had been the scent of salt that had spooked the beast, not the periwinkle sky or the ruddy sunlight. He rode the beast through shadow after shadow, relentlessly driving.
Rain that stung like a hail of tiny stones and sizzled as it hit grass became a shower of silver-veined gold leaves. The sky swirled in a riot of pale pink and orange flame-licked clouds as the grass beneath the horse's feet grew checkerboard, alternately white and black, cracking as hoof met individual blades of granite. Mountains became giants with tortoise shell backs and rivers grew red with the blood of weeping valleys.
With every step away from Amber, the world grew more wild until Shadow itself began to overtake order, until even Benedict could not hold the forces of Chaos at bay and was forced to relinquish his hold on reality. If the horse he'd ridden would go mad, it'd have gone mad three or four worlds ago, when the sky had turned grass green and the ground under them a opalescent swirl of blue and white marble, but the horse traveled gamely on, shying here from some strange creature of six silver legs and furred face, there from a flower as brilliant red as rubies that snapped onyx teeth as they passed it on the road.
He road a few more miles into the swirl of Chaos, not far enough to encroach but far enough to prove to himself that this was a place where Chaos reined and the Pattern's order was an unwelcome interloper, then stopped and dismounted. Benedict loosened the blade at his side, the hand of silver and cold fire clicking lightly against the hilt, and began to circle his mount. The horse's eyes were wide and wild with fear, and its hooves danced nervously against the fleshy, strangely yielding but firm ground on which they stood. But most importantly, the horse did not bolt, instead waiting as Benedict made his slow circuit, examining the horse with an experienced eye. When he was satisfied, Benedict reached into his pocket and pulled out a jeweled toned apple and offered it to the horse, which snorted in surprise for a moment before the scent of the familiar fruit drew its attention.
As the animal noisily crunched its treat, Benedict remounted and waited. When the horse had swallowed the last morsel of apple, he turned it sharply in the direction they'd come and began riding again, reaching again for the stuff of reality, of Shadow and Order, to open a different road, one calmer than the one he had trod before yet with the same intent.
All roads led to Amber, after all
