Where exactly did I want to go? And, more importantly, how was I to get there. I could detect no obvious ways about me; this Shadow seemed depressingly solid. What I get for taking such a big first step. Well, I could always Trump or use a spell; but almost all of my Trump were of places or individuals closer to the Courts than I already was, and using spells to open a way in Shadow is always a chancy thing. At least it felt to me like sorcery would work where I was, but it might take some time for me to figure out just how.
There was one Trump I felt moved to use - that I had completed of my father based on my memory of his brief visit. Pulling out my deck, I considered. He had not been in touch in some time, and I had never succeeded in Trumping to him from the Courts. Perhaps I was 'close' enough now to wherever he was. It seemed almost too cliched, running from one parent to the other. Nevertheless, he was my best option for quick travel. I suspected that my mother would soon recover from my Stonewall spell, and I would feel that tickle at the back of my mind again.
Focusing on Corwin's image, I reached out. The cool feeling of the card intensified, but I still felt no real response. Perhaps he was still too far away, or blocked in some way. Who knows how hard he might be to reach if that second Pattern of his does indeed lead to a whole separate realm of Shadow. Redoubling my efforts, I thought not only of Corwin himself, but of how he had described his favorite Shadows to me.
This time, I felt a sort of ... shifting, but not as though I had broken through any kind of resistance, but what I could only describe as a sort of sideways 'motion'. The image resolved and became three-dimensional - I saw my father before me, but instead of the warrior's gear I had drawn on his Trump, he was wearing ornate black robes decorated in silvery sigils. He was wearing his silver rose, however. He was in a stone room of some sort, and behind him was a window looking out on a castle with many towers. He seemed surprised at my contact.
"Who calls to me from beyond the pale?" he asked in a sonorous voice. He seemed slower to perceive me than I him, squinting vaguely towards me.
"It is your son, Merlin".
"No son of mine, unless I be much mistaken. Again, I ask, what manner of spirit art though?".
Suddenly, the realization hit me - this was not truly Corwin at all, but merely one of his shadows. Still, the scene revealed by the window behind him resembled what my true father had told me of Avalon - perhaps this was a related Shadow.
"If you would know what manner of being I am, then reach out to me and I will come to you".
The shadow Corwin did not seem inclined to cooperate, however. "What, entertain a demon, without the proper preparations? No, rather give me your name, that I may summon thee later with bell, book, and candle, and all such proper workings".
I could feel him trying to close off the Trump contact, and knew my time was short. Mustering up all my force of will, I laid hold of his mind and prevented him from withdrawing. This was difficult enough (this Corwin must have been cast, as it were, fairly close to the candle), but was not even the difficult part. I had never heard of anyone using a Trump for physical transit to a person's location when they were not only not being helped, but actually hindered by the other party.
Nevertheless, I kept the faux Corwin's mind locked to mine, and expanded and sharpened my view of his surroundings. Slowly and agonizingly I widened my point of view, and brought in the other senses- first hearing the hiss of a brazier and the whistle of the wind outside, then smelling the chemical fumes of what must be an alchemist's laboratory, and underneath that the scent of nearby horses. Finally, I felt stone rather than loam beneath my feet. I was there - and face to face with the shadow Corwin, whom I was to know much better - and much worse - before I was done. Such was my entry to the Shadow Cymru.
| Tuesday, September 30, 1997 |
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