Patternwalk

Coming of Age

a Damara story
(c) 2000 Deb Atwood

from Chaos Theory by Michael McGovern

I was on the run. I'd been on the run for too long, too far. I couldn't really run any more… it was more of a hobble as I made my way through the mountains, stumbling into the mouth of the cave. I could smell the sharp scent of blood and prayed to the gods that no animals smelled the blood I was leaving in a thin trail on the ground to mark my path. But I didn't have any choice.

If I stopped, they'd catch me. Destroy me, like they'd destroyed Aggie.

Oh gods, Agrivar…

I choked back tears, blinking against the sudden image of the brother who'd raised me, impaled on a lance, his blood spilling onto the ground. Felt again the horror as I had to leave him. Had to run as he ordered me to save myself. Oh gods…

I dashed a hand against my eyes, trying roughly to rub the tears away. I stumbled again, pitching forward as my right foot snagged on something. I sprawled forward into the darkness, felt pain in my head as I hit something I never saw. And then darkness.

When I came back to consciousness all I could think of was the crack to my head. I opened my eyes slowly, not wanting to be blinded by the light. But what met my eyes wasn't anything I'd expected. My own reflection, staring back at me.

A mirror traveled from the floor of the cave all the way to the ceiling. To my left and right, more mirrors, as far as I could see. There was only a faint light there, dim and bluish in color, maybe from some kind of rocks or moss that glowed. I wasn't sure, and it didn't really matter. This was… strange. Flat out weird.

I struggled to my feet, staring at the image who stood so smoothly. She was unwounded, unblemished. Startled, I looked down, wondering if I were imagining the ache I still felt. The pain. But no, dried blood caked my entire lower leg from the wound I'd taken. I looked back at the mirror, and she looked at me, happy and unwounded.

"What in all the hells is going on here?" I demanded of anyone who might be listening.

"Don't ask me. I just work here."

I yelped, instinctively drawing my sword as the image in the mirror spoke to me. I tried not to scream again as I moved and weight went full on my leg and it threatened to buckle under me. But I stood again, shifting back to my good leg, groaning slightly.

And the entire time, I couldn't remove my gaze from the mirror. My image was shifting, changing. It seemed to melt, slowly shrinking and twisting into a creature with leathery dark green skin and an enormous pot belly, its eyes glowing red in the pale blue light. It opened its enormously wide mouth, as if it were going to speak again, and then abruptly, it vanished. And nothing, not even my reflection, was there.

I stared at the empty mirror, the sword falling to my side, then a flash of fury swept through me. I raised my sword, swinging back as I prepared to strike the mirror, anticipating the crash of it shattering.

"Greetings."

I spun at the voice behind me, the mirror forgotten as someone intruded on me. A man stood there, instead of my reflection in the mirror on this side. He was handsome to look at, red hair pulled back from his face in a ponytail, clad in purple and green.

I was exhausted, and so was my patience. "Tell me who you are and what the hells is going on, or you can tell it to the gods," I snapped, my sword at the ready.

He extended his arm in the air, shifting his feet until he mimiced my stance. "How will you kill me?" His voice seemed offhand, almost mildly curious. "Look at my hand? There is no sword in the mirror." He paused a moment, letting my eyes drift up to see his empty hand. "Is there?"

As I shook my head in a mute answer, I realized my hands were empty. My sword was gone. What in all the hells was going on?

He continued as if my eyes weren't snapping green with fury. "Walk with me, would you?" He didn't wait for an answer, turning to his left and strolling down his side of the mirrors. I started to curse, shaking my head, but then curiosity got the better of me, and I moved. I swallowed a curse of a different kind as I stumbled forward, but I managed to find a rolling limp of a gait, hobbling along with him.

"I know we've never liked each other," he continued, "but even though you were never welcome in my heart, you were always safe in my kingdom."

Huh? I didn't understand a word he was saying. The words made sense, but not together. Not applied to me. Who was he? This was no king I had known, no person I had ever known. I couldn't figure it out.

A shrill voice attracted my attention, coming from the bank of mirrors opposite the red-haired man. "One is drawn and three are made, or is it four? Two are drawn, one is re-drawn, and many are made, though many are not enough…" The voice trailed off and a low humming took its place. Then a soft click and the blue light was gone, plunging me into darkness again.

I stood completely still, expecting something. Some voice, some movement. Anything. When nothing happened I exhaled the breath I was holding. And the world turned green.

There was a glowing green line on the ground before me. In the ground. It swooped and curved until it reached a small empty circle in the center. Behind the lines I could see its exact duplicate, and at its opposite side I saw myself standing there, small and bloody. My eyes swept around, looking into the mirrors, and I saw reflections multiplied into an infinity of this glowing green pattern in the rock and myself.

A glance up showed me what seemed to be a school of silvery scaled fish swimming in circles. Fish.

"This can *not* be happening," I muttered to myself, with more conviction than I really felt.

A bit of movement caught my eye, and I turned quickly from my confused musings, staring instead at the center of the glowing pattern. A man stood there, dressed soberly in black and brown, with hair of dirty blond. His expression was as dull… blank… as his dress.

He wasn't in the mirrors this time, I thought. He was here. "This still can not be happening," I muttered. He must have heard me, for he managed a small smile.

"Damara." He knew my name, speaking it simply and without ceremony. "Set your foot on the line and follow it. Don't stop walking. Don't leave the line. If you do, you will die." He spoke it all so simply, as if it were of no more importance than the weather the next day.

"Who…"

"Your uncle," he answered my question before I could finish my sentence. "You don't have much time."

Not much time. Before what? Before I fell over, exhausted from the pain? Before the world turned black again and this time the light went purple, or pink, or some other color and something else showed in the mirrors?

Before those people caught up with her, in this strange land that was like nothing she had ever seen before?

There wasn't really any place else to go. Nothing else to do. I couldn't go back -- I wasn't even sure where back was anymore. So it had to be forward.

I set my foot on the line and was showered with sparks. Another step and another, the sparks shivering around me as I made my way along the shimmering green line engraved in stone. I didn't enjoy it. Gods know, I didn't enjoy it. I was tired when I started, and worse when it ended. I hardly knew where the pain ended and my body began, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know. If I could figure it out, it'd probably hurt even more.

He was still there. My uncle, so he said. "Listen." My gaze swept to him, and I tried not to stumble at the feel of my mind moving inside of my head. "You are a child of Amber," he told me, "and the limitless ways of Shadow are yours to command. Walk, my niece, and you shall learn your birthright. From the center of the Pattern you may choose to go anywhere, but right now Amber is not safe for you. Walk in Shadow, and when the time is right, you shall be sent for."

Amber? Shadow? I didn't understand it. My tired mind couldn't conceive of it. "What's your name?" I asked instead, a question where the answer would have to make sense.

"I am Delwin." He held up his left hand, palm towards me, in what I expected to be a greeting of some sort. Then I realized the last two fingers on his hand were missing, and the blood was pumping out of the stumps, rushing down his hand. "The mirrors," he moaned, showing the first real emotion, sounding almost as if he had slipped into a trance. "The corridor cannot…"

There was a high, sharp, grinding sound, and then the world seemed to fill with cracks that spider-webbed all across my vision. There was a crashing sound of shattering glass and the air all around me was filled with shards of reflections. I screamed, my hands coming up to cover my face, and as I expected to feel glass slicing into me, I wished I were anywhere else but there.

And then I was.

I fell to my knees immediately. There wasn't anything left to me. I barely had time to take it all in. The different sky, the different ground. Everything was odd… unusual. Like nothing I'd ever imagined. I wasn't sure how it had happened exactly, only that I'd wanted it, and it *had* happened.

Time became very confused for me then. I was sick… really sick for a time after that. I had lost too much blood, I suppose, and I wasn't entirely sure I hadn't been hallucinating. But I was exhausted. Bodily, physically, and emotionally. Strung out. I need to rest for a long time, and I did, under a sun that seemed nothing like the one I had grown up with, and stars that twinkled in unfamiliar patterns.

Finally I had had enough of that place. Enough of being seen as an invalid, when I was more than ready to move on. I was healthy, or healthy enough anyway. So I just got up one morning, and put my things together. I stood under the dawning sun, my pack resting against my back, the sword hanging against my hip. Everything the way it should be. And as the sun rose in little ribbons of pink light, I crossed my arms, touching the bracers that were settled on my upper arms.

Agrivar's bracers. All I had left of my brother. They felt warm and familiar there, like I could feel him still there with me. I smiled slightly, feeling that. Days… only days since the battle. Weeks, perhaps, at the most. I wasn't so certain of time anymore. But did it matter? Agrivar was gone, and I was alone.

It was time to go.

If you are a member of the Chaos Theory campaign, please do not read these stories unless specifically directed to by the player or GM. These stories contain background information about Damara which is not generally known.