Phoebe -- A Description (public view)

LIFE AND DEATH

I had been gone from Crystal Tears for nearly a year, according to my reckoning. And now, when I finally made my way home, I chose to go to Devane, center of learning and religion in my homeworld. I didn't want to suddenly appear in anyone's room, knowing that I had vacated my own some years back, so I chose as my location a spot near the Tree. When I arrived, I drank in the sight, welcoming myself home. The Tree grew still, though looking somewhat strangely weakened. But it was the Tree of my home, and as soon as I found someone who recognized me, I had proof that I had finally found my way home after my mysterious disappearance.

Things were chaotic, people moving quickly around, everyone too busy to talk to me. I finally found someone who recognized me. "Phoebe! Can you help with the plague?" It was Arwen, striding up to me, arms welcoming me despite the tired circles under her eyes.

"The plague?" I repeated, a little dazed. And yes, the Black Plague had returned to Crystal Tears. I had never been in Devane during the plague, and had never seen this effect on my people. I had lived through three plagues in my world, each one devestating in its own way, but never one so strong as this. "Of course, I'll do what I can. But I need to speak with one of the magical instructors first."

"There aren't many left alive," Arwen admitted. "And those who are have been blamed for the plague. They are doing what they can to fight the plague." She looked away slightly. "Although, they are unable to heal anyone, which is why they are being blamed."

We made arrangements for me to pitch my tent outside near the Tree, since no rooms were available in the main house at the moment. Every spare inch was devoted to fighting the sickness, and more people poured in every day, praying to survive. I found a quiet space and set up my own camp, then made my way to the Tree.

There was a spot where for the first few years I was in Devane I meditated every morning, without fail. Once again, I found my familiar location, and settled in comfortably. I had to work hard to empty my mind of thoughts, for the second I had heard the word plague, it had struck a chord with me. As I closed my eyes and prepared myself for meditation, an unsettling image kept coming forth, of the dead Tree in Brand's Amber. And I remembered the frightening thought I had had then, that perhaps my own magic had been drawing life from the Tree itself. I could not heal anyone magically until I knew that in doing so I would not disrupt my entire world.

Finally, my mind clear, I sat quietly. For three hours I meditated, and serenely calm in the end, I was ready to help with the plague. While the meditation had helped calm me, the Tree had given me no visions or answers. Then I worked through the evening.

The next morning I again meditated. As it appeared that the Tree had suffered no ill effects from my presence, I desired to try to cast while sitting at the base of the Tree of Life. I cast carefully, as always of late, avoiding taking energy from those around me, and tried to contact Corwin. As I had somewhat expected, the spell made no connection to another mind, but I didn't appear to have done any damage to my surroundings either. I didn't want to risk any damage, so after completing my meditation, I returned to work with the plague.

In the evening I tried another spell, trying to contact Bleys. I was cautious, again not wanting to take more energy than I had to from the area around me. I never managed to complete the spell, passing out before I was done.

I woke up in the middle of the night, my head aching, awoken by the earth shaking beneath my tent. I crawled out from my tent, peering at the Tree. Still somewhat sickly, it was standing as solid as ever. The quake was minor and the damage equally so. My tent was secure and there were no further injuries to those in my world other than the plague. I could no better now than I would do in the day, so I slept my headache away.

After my morning meditation I had one spell left to try, an attempt to conjure my items to me from their holding in Amber. I felt somewhat weak after the spell, but thankfully did not pass out this time. I waited until after dinner to try any more casting, this time wanting to find out from Serge if there had been any luck in locating our things in Amber. I managed to create the spell, but just as contact was established, something interrupted it. A moment later, I tried again, and again it was disrupted. Disgruntled, and knowing that someone somewhere was playing havoc with my magic, I made ready for bed.

I was just about to sleep when I felt the presence of another mind with my own. Serge's friend, Jan. "What do you want?" I asked, somewhat sleepy.

"Had you wanted to talk to Serge?" he sounded cheerful. I asked my questions, only to find that nothing much had been happening. I also learned that Serge had been in Amber during an earthquake there, and Angel somewhere in another outland. As it appeared that he was not viewing much as imperative, and was in fact far more impressed with the fact that he had managed to use a spell for contact than with our conversation, I advised Jan to let me know should any plans be made to retrieve our items. That done, he was gone from my mind.

But while we had spoken, I had suddenly concieved of another idea. My fascination with Corwin's possible death had stemmed from his resemblance to Jordan. Perhaps, while I could not manage to contact Corwin, I could contact Jordan instead. My mood was angry, annoyed at Jan's reluctance to attach importance to much of anything, annoyed at my ineffectiveness against the plague. I was careful not to draw on anything around me, but the spell was fueled with my own anger and frustration, causing me to go weak just as the contact was established.

"Yes? Hello?" He sounded surprised.

"Jordan? It's Phoebe." My voice was calm and somewhat reassuring, remembering Lucretia's reaction to my magic. But then, if he were part of this family, his chances of being familiar with the picture magic were quite good. I didn't expect a problem with the conversation.

"Where?"

I imagined him looking around in confusion. "In Crystal Tears, in Devane to be exact. Where the hell are you?" Suddenly the annoyance fifty years old struck, and I almost yelled, "And where the hell did you disappear off to? And you're not dead!" The last came out in sudden relief.

"No..." he sounded wary.

I was still sighing in relief. "I'm glad to hear that. Someone who looks like you is." I was filled with a desire to see him again, just knowing he was alive wasn't enough. "Do you have any of the picture magic?" He didn't know what I meant, and I explained about Angel's Trumps, though he still didn't seem to understand what I meant.

After a few more questions, he began to tell me where he had gone when he left me. He had woken up somewhere else, in fact in his homeland, and had thought perhaps I was a dream. In fact, I had difficulty convincing him still that I was not a dream. Nor was he sure how he had arrived in Crystal Tears in the first place. The most interesting part, perhaps, was that while fifty years had passed for me, only ten had passed for him.

"Could you describe where you are?" I asked hopefully, not positive it would be enough, but more than willing to try. "I'd like to try to to transport myself to you magically."

"You can do that?" He was obviously quite surprised.

I chuckled. "I've actually gotten quite a bit better at it in the last couple of weeks." An image of myself and Gerard splashing into the water slid through my mind, adding another chuckle. "I've learned quite a bit of magic since I saw you last."

I spent a few more moments convincing him that it wasn't a dream, then asked, "May I try to strengthen my spell to try to see through your eyes so that I might be able to then transport myself there?"

"It sounds dangerous, but you can try," he conceded.

And I did so. I passed out before I knew if it worked.

When I woke up in the morning I was near obsessed with the need to find a way to create a spell that would take me to Jordan. I made my way to the library, picking through the books I remembered ignoring when I had been a student. I found nothing that would help me construct a spell allowing me to transport to an unknown location. What I did find were several works on the relationship of magical energy with life. And death.

I read. I took the books and curled up in the most comfortable chair I could find and read until I couldn't read any more. Then I slept, and when I awoke, I read again. And slowly I began to understand. According to everything I found, there are many types of energy in the world, magical and life energy being among them, and all sources of energy can be tapped. There was some question as to whether life energy was the easiest or most difficult to draw on. For me, after magical energy, it seemed almost instinctive to draw on life, if you review my most recent escapades. But how to control it?

I learned that energy could be shaped into magic, and that it was possible to choose from where I drew my energy. I had already begun to be somewhat skilled at that myself, of late, in my avoidance of drawing from the Tree and the people of my world. I learned something of magical theory, as well, although that information was far less. But I did learn that I did not yet have the basis of understanding to create the spells I wished to create. Simply put, they were far beyond my meager skills. In time, perhaps, but for now I would have to work on simpler spells that might, perhaps, accomplish the same thing. I made some notes, then shelved that notion for a time.

For you see, I had learned one very important thing in my reading. I had already established quite easily that I could draw life, channel it through myself and into magic, producing a desired effect. However, I could channel it in reverse, as well, drawing from myself and channeling the life back into a living creature.

I had discovered the cure for the plague.

I began my work in the morning, and to everyone's surprise, it worked. By early evening, word of my skills had spread, and I found myself surrounded by the ill and dying. I had begun with those cases not expected to live through the night. I felt weaker with each person I healed, and knew I had to martial my own energies, and rest, or else I wouldn't be able to continue. But with every healing, I was surrounded by two more wanting my service. People surrounded me as I tried to back away, blocking me from heading to my tent, begging for me. Hands reached out to me, eyes saddened by loss and fear of death. And I had to continue.

Until I passed out..

It became a pattern for me. I would spend the day healing, surrounded by bodies pressing in on me, pleading for my help. I healed until I had no more energy available to me, and when I passed out, I awoke in my tent. Each day there were more people, and I grew more popular. In time, I suppose, I became some sort of an icon, a bringer of the gift of Life from the Tree.

Each day I grew more exhausted, and my only escape was to my tent, where blessed peace and quiet allowed me to sleep. This went on for two weeks, until the morning I was awoken by the feel of hands on my body, touching me, trying to draw my power from me without my willing it. My eyes sprang open, and I saw faces hovering over mine, heard voices pleading with me. Terrified by the intrusion, I shrank backwards, trying desperately to remove the touching hands from my body. "Get out! Get out!" They didn't listen, moving closer and closer.

I began to cast, knowing they all expected it and that no one would stop me. But I wasn't trying to heal them. I transported myself inside the main house, breathing more easily once I was alone, despite the fact that I could still feel the tickle of all those hands across my body.

Trying to shake the shivery feeling of those ghostly fingers, I ran to the quarters of the head of the initiates. I knew it was earlier, and understood that my pounding would wake her, but I was desperate. I desired only to do my service to the Tree, and to aid the people of my home, but they would kill me with their adoration!

I finally managed to convince her to give me a room within the house, with a real lock on the door which I of course locked behind me the second she left. I meditated, establishing a calm feeling once more, despite the travails of the morning. When my meditation was over, I spent a few hours working on creating a few spells, and although I did not manage to cast them correctly yet, I felt as if I had learned something from the session. Much calmer after having had some time to myself, I tranported myself just outside the house and waded into the crowd, beginning my healing once more. However, instead of pushing myself to the point of passing out, just as I began to grow weak, I transported myself back into my room directly. I reasoned that if they never saw me walk in nor out of it, perhaps they wouldn't find me.

I was wrong.

I managed to complete my meditation before it began again. First a few knocks at my door, then sound in the hallway. Cries of "Help us!" came from the hallway.

I was about to stuff cotton in my ears in order to get some sleep when I felt a mental contact beginning. I accepted it, realizing it was one of those Trumps, not my form of magic, and heard Serge speaking to me. "I need some people knocked out."

At any other time I would have been upset at the comment. Right then, I was only too glad for a reason to leave. "It's been a rough couple of weeks," I commented quietly.

"Couple of weeks?" Serge asked. "It's only been a few days."

"Have you gotten our stuff back?" I inquired calmly.

"Not yet. There's a war going on."

"Help us!" The cries in the hallway were increasing.

"They're going to knock down my door," I muttered.

"Why don't you join me?" Serge suggested. And I did. There was an army nearby, but compared to where I had been, it was blessedly quiet.

I settled in, enjoying the peace and quiet. "Now, first thing, I've gotten better at my magic and haven't had any problems in two weeks."

"Three days," Serge insisted, stroking a beard that was no more than a few days growth.

I fixed him with a glare. "In Crystal Tears its been two weeks. I've been working on some spells that might be able to help get our items back, but I cannot do my work at home any longer, unless I find someplace new to go. First, however, we'll need to know if we can scry in Amber."

"You wanna go try?" Serge suggested. "Kills too birds with one stone. You can knock out all the people, too."

I glared at him. "I've gotten picky about who I take energy from. But other than that, I can try to scry, yes."

"And oh yeah," Serge commented mildly, "there's this sorcerer running around in Amber." He and Jan discussed techniques for holding off the sorceror, which including casting spells and saving them until later before they actually activate. They described a process by which they can take several hours to cast a spell, then hold it and set it off instantly.

I had just one comment. "If it takes a while to cast the spell in the first place, then you're obviously taking too long." Although this might be handy, it might be simpler to create an item to hold spells, like the magic wand of a fairy tale. "Besides, in combat it is far handier to draw a sword." Which only reminded me just how much I wanted Lleuad back.

"I'm rather curious about this mage anyway," Serge commented. "Your being a beacon might be useful."

"Fine," I agreed. "I cast, you grab," I swung to look at Jan, "and you take care of getting us out."

It was a simplistic plan. What could possibly go wrong?

We waited until the army had stopped for the night, since we were actually moving towards Amber according to the others. Martin was leading an assault on Amber, taking the army through the outlands to the city. Apparantly the Trumps could not be used to transport this large a number, or I'd assumed they would have already done so. Jan then drew a quick picture of a forest area, the same place where I had been taken upon my first arrival in Amber. The place is called the Unicorn Grove, and from what I learned after that, all those people milling about had been there to hear King Corwin give an announcement about a search for a battle axe.

Serge had seemed a little concerned that it might be close to the battle lines now in Amber, and wanted me to go first. Grabbing him, he at first resisted, but I managed to convince him to come through at the same time as I went. A moment later, Jan joined us. We walked through the forest down to the city. We found an inn with a room where I could set up and begin to cast.

Unfortunately, however, the spell did not work. Apparantly scrying is one of those spells that simply does not work in Amber. Nor does invisibility, since I tested that immediately after, hoping that perhaps I could sneak on my own.

"Magic is close," Serge announced, "and its not just Phoebe. In fact, its moving closer."

"I take it your mage has found us?" I inquired.

"Better yet, you stay here," he ordered, and then jumped out the window.

Jan and I stared after him, incredulous, as he ran away from the inn. There was a sharp knock at the door. I turned to Jan, "May I suggest preparing to leave, but I'd prefer if you did not do so without me."

He had his sketch in his hand as I opened the door. Hands grabbed me, and from behind I heard, "Seeya." Jan abandoned me there.

"Come with me!" I was ordered.

"Who the hell are you?" I shot back.

"That's not important."

"I think it is," I insisted. "Why should I come with you?"

"Because I said so." These guards just weren't taking no for an answer.

I could sense someone casting out in the hallway, out of my view. I drew one of the swords I'd taken from the dungeon guards so long ago and pushed my way past those now blocking my doorway. Just then, a spell enveloped me. A sharp pain sliced through my neck, as if a nerve were pinched, only far, far worse. And sad to say, the mage himself wasn't impressive, lanky and thin. A typical outlander, if smaller than most.

Despite the pain, I tried to knock the mage out so that he could no longer cast. As I had discussed with Jan and Serge, my own magic is useless to me once a fight begins, so I simply planned to take any magic out of consideration. Then I could deal with the physical threats facing me. However, it wasn't to be that easy. The mage had several guards to stand behind, all of whom I had to take care of before I could reach him. Parrying three people is not an easy task, so I backed towards the door, hoping to be able to take them on one at a time. As my attention was focused entirely on the guards before me, I didn't see that the first guard, the one that I'd run past and knocked over leaving the room in the first place, was now standing behind me. I tripped, landing hard.

The first of the three still approaching me went over my head, flying towards the wall. I wasn't fast enough to grab the next, though, and soon one had one foot and another my one arm. I kicked my feet up, aiming for that soft spot all men hate to be struck, and he double up in pain releasing my feet. I rolled to the right, reaching for my sword with my free hand. Just then I wasn't sure where the sword was, nor in fact, which direction was up or down. I tried to sit up, and swung wildly, not sure where I was going. The floor met me fast, and then I felt myself begin to fall, hands fastened on my arms and legs as the floor was no longer beneath me. When I managed to shake my head clear, I was suspended between several people. A most undignified position.

I could hear noise coming from the stairs, and soon Serge approached. By craning my head and ceasing my struggles to get free, I could see him as he tried to knock the mage out. The mage made as if to run away, but Serge grabbed him, and dragged him over to where I was still trying to get free. He grabbed my shoulder, then tumbled through a Trump contact still holding myself and the mage.

"Who is he?" Jan asked, staring at the mage, who was struggling to his feet to run away again.

"Good question," Serge answered, going to grab him again. He hauled him back to us. "He's the mage who's been following us around Amber." This time Serge took the time to make sure the mage was well and truly unconscious and therefore not about to go anywhere.

It was going to be a while before we'd be able to interrogate the mage, so Serge took the time to repair some of the damage done to his body during the fight. As for me, I rested, waiting to be certain which direction was up.

Interrogating the mage, in the end, was a useless idea. He knew next to nothing of his purpose, save to investigate other mages in the area. We learned only that one army had already arrived to support Llewella (one of Angel's aunts, and the one to whom Martin traveled with these troops) and had been repelled.

Once the interrogation was done, there was little reason for me to remain in Serge and Jan's company. Instead, I transported myself back to Crystal Tears, where the time appeared to flow faster. This time I went home, to Ellesmere, hiding myself locally and avoiding contact with those in my world. It was not something I felt good about, but I could not deal with having been treated in the manner I was in Devane. So I found myself a cottage and settled in to work on my magic.

I worked happily for a week, not progressing far, but doing well enough to know that I was learning. I didn't work as hard as I had been, and began to relax somewhat. Each night I slept a true sleep, rather than passing out as I had been for the last two weeks I had been in Crystal Tears. I was, in fact, being very carefuly not to draw too much on surrounding energy or my own energy for my spells. I was attempting to learn to cast without killing anything, including myself.

Which is why, when I passed out, I knew it had nothing to do with my magic.

Chapter Eleven, Robin

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