I knew that I could not reach him in time to stop him. So I cast about for a stone the size of a baseball, found one at the foot of the escarpment to my rear, hefted it and tried not to let my rage interfere with the accuracy of my throw. It did not, but it may have contributed some extra force.
The blow caught him on the left arm, and he let out a cry, dropping the crossbow. The weapon clattered down the rocks and landed on the other side of the trail, almost directly across from me.
“You son of a bitch!” I cried. “You killed my horse! I'm going to have your head for it!”
As I crossed the trail, I looked for the fastest way up to him and saw it off to my left. I hurried to it and commenced climbing. An instant later, the light and the angle were proper and I had a better view of the man, bent nearly double, massaging his arm. It was Brand, his hair even redder in the sanguine light.
“This is it. Brand,” I said. “I only wish someone had done it a long time ago.”
He straightened and watched me climb for a moment. He did not reach for his blade. Just as I got to the top, perhaps seven meters away from him, he crossed his arms on his breast and lowered his head.
I drew Grayswandir and advanced. I admit that I was prepared to kill him in that or any other position. The red light had deepened until we seemed bathed in blood. The wind howled about us, and from the valley below came a rumble of thunder.
He simply faded before me. His outline grew less distinct, and by the time I reached the place where he had been standing he had vanished entirely.
I stood for a moment, cursing, remembering the story that he had somehow been transformed into a living Trump, capable of transporting himself anywhere in a very brief time.
I heard a noise from below...
I rushed to the edge and looked down. Star was still kicking and blowing blood, and it tore my heart to see it. But that was not the only distressing sight.
Brand was below. He had picked up the crossbow and begun preparing it once more.
I looked about for another stone, but there was nothing at hand. Then I spotted one farther back, in the direction from which I had come. I hurried to it, resheathed my blade and raised the thing. It was about the size of a watermelon. I returned with it to the edge and sought Brand. He was nowhere in sight.
Suddenly, I felt very exposed. He could have transported himself to any vantage and be sighting in on me at that instant. I dropped to the ground, falling across my rock. A moment later, I heard the bolt strike to my right. The sound was followed by Brand's chuckle.
I stood again, knowing it would take him at least a little while to recock his weapon. Looking in the direction of the laughter, I saw him, atop the ledge across the pass from me-about five meters higher than I was, and about twenty meters distant.
“Sorry about the horse,” he said. “I was aiming for you. But those damned winds...”
By then I had spotted a niche and I made for it, taking the rock with me for a shield. From that wedge-shaped fissure, I watched him fit the bolt.
“A difficult shot,” he called out, raising the weapon, “a challenge to my marksmanship. But certainly worth the effort. I've plenty more quarrels.”
He chuckled, sighted and fired.
I bent low, holding the rock before my middle, but the bolt struck about two feet to my right.
“I had sort of guessed that might happen,” he said, beginning to prepare his weapon once again. “Had to learn the windage, though.”
I looked about for smaller stones to use for ammunition as I had earlier. There were none nearby. I wondered about the Jewel then. It was supposed to act to save me in the presence of immediate peril. But I had a funny feeling that this involved close proximity, and that Brand was aware of this and was taking advantage of the phenomenon. Still, mightn't there be something else I could do with the Jewel to thwart him? He seemed too far away for the paralysis trick, but I had beaten him once before by controlling the weather. I wondered how far off the storm was. I reached for it. I saw that it would take minutes I did not possess in order to set up the conditions necessary to draw lightning upon him. But the winds were another matter. I reached out for them, felt them...
Brand was almost ready to shoot again. The wind began to scream through the pass.
I do not know where his next-shot landed. Nowhere near me, though. He fell to readying his weapon again. I began setting up the factors for a lightningstroke...
When he was ready, when he raised the weapon this time, I raised the winds once more. I saw him sight, I saw him draw a breath and hold it. Then he lowered the bow and stared at me.
“It just occurred to me,” he called out, “you've got that wind in your pocket, haven't you? That is cheating, Corwin.”
He looked all about.
“I should be able to find a footing where it will not matter, though. Aha!”
I kept working to set things up to blast him, but conditions were not ready yet. I looked up at that red-and black-streaked sky, something cloud-like forming above us.. . Soon, but not yet.. .
Brand faded and vanished again. Wildly, I sought him everywhere.
Then he faced me. He had come over to my side of the pass. He stood about ten meters to the south of me, with the wind at his back, I knew that I could not shift it in time. I wondered about throwing my rock. He would probably duck and I would be throwing away my shield. On the other hand...
He raised the weapon to his shoulder.
Stall! cried my own voice within my mind, while I continued to tamper with the heavens.
“Before you shoot. Brand, tell me one thing. All right?”
He hesitated, then lowered the weapon a few inches.
“What?”
“Were you telling me the truth about what happened-with Dad, the Pattern, the coming of Chaos?”
He threw back his head and laughed, a series of short barks.
“Corwin,” he stated then, “it pleases me more than I can say to see you die not knowing something that means that much to you.”
He laughed again and began to raise the weapon. I had just moved to hurl my rock and rush him. But neither of us completed either action.
There came a great shriek from overhead, and a piece of the sky seemed to detach itself and fall upon Brand's head. He screamed and dropped the crossbow. He raised his hands to tear at the thing that assailed him. The red bird, the Jewel bearer, born of my blood from my father's hand, had returned, to defend me.
I let go the rock and advanced upon him, drawing my blade as I went. Brand struck the bird and it flapped away, gaining altitude, circling for another dive. He raised both arms to cover his face and head, but not before I saw the blood that flowed from his left eye socket.
He began to fade again even as I rushed toward him. But the bird descended like a bomb and its talons struck Brand about the head once again. Then the bird, too, began to fade. Brand was reaching for his ruddy assailant and being slashed by it as they both disappeared.
When I reached the place of the action the only thing that remained was the fallen crossbow, and I smashed it with my boot.
Not yet, not yet the end, damn it! How long will you plague me, brother? How far must I go to bring it to an end between us?
I climbed back down to the trail. Star was not yet dead and I had to finish the job. Sometimes I think I'm in the wrong business.
CHAPTER 7
A bowl of cotton candy.
Having traversed the pass, I regarded the valley that lay before me. At least, I assumed that it was a valley. I could see nothing below its cover of cloud/mist/fog.