Several dozen years past, the Realms were a loose collection of petty tyrants and warlords. Conflict over territory raged without end; unfortunately there were too few Lords interested in settling the land as opposed to those who wants to settle issues by becoming lord of all. Now, popular histories were not specific on the rise of Korbin -- most seemed to point toward him being a landless knight who proved himself in battle time and time again, rising in the ranks of the armies until even his Lord recognized that Korbin was indeed greater than them all. Now, with insight of my mother, the Lady Vespera, as well as the things I've learned from Llewella and others of this great family, I have a very good idea of my own personal history of High King Korbin. Indeed, there were a few times, when I was still chasing my father's identity, that I'd figured Korbin's name would come up, due mostly to circumstantial evidence. That would not have been such a bad thing.
However, Caine was still what floated around in the back of my mind. As far as we'd come, I'd still not gotten any closer than the name and his countenance on the Trump cards. It had been odd pulling a description of him from Korbin and Llewella -- they seemed to have trouble coming up with the best way to describe the man. Perhaps that was a good indicator of who he truly was -- someone difficult to pin down, unreadable, unflappable...
My thoughts escaped me when Fletcher entered the room.
*****
Turns out that the three of were in the very same world, just in different parts of it, making it a good thing that Shen and I didn't try to walk for shelter, as we'd never had made it. Unfortunately, that left us in an even greater bind, for we had no way of getting to, finding, or contacting our friends from whatever part of that world they'd found themselves in. It seemed there was little we could do but wait and hope that maybe Harrison or Salome could find a way to find or communicate with us. Fletcher, in talking with Korbin on his way here, he identified that the curse weighed on Korbin's shoulders more than Llewella's, as he seemed somewhat mystified when Fletcher even touched upon things from his past concerning Amber.
Though I was loathe to, finally we were left with no option other than attempting to contact the man responsible (well, at least somewhat responsible) for all of this -- Lucas Reynard.
When the Trump contact finally went through, after hour-like minutes of concentration, the image I saw was radically different than what the card showed. Reynard seemed a shell of himself, wasted and weakened, bound by heavy chains to a stone wall behind. As I brought him to me, I felt resistance -- then noting that the chains had pulled taut. Bloody hell. I explained the situation to my friends, and Fletcher could not see into the contact to do something with either his guns or his magic -- but Shen's strength should suffice. Again I was impressed greatly with the ease of my strange friend's graceful strength -- his muscles rippling under his skin as he made the chains snap as if they were mere threads. Lucas collapsed into my arms. How lucky for him that the means to pamper him back to health were all around us!
*****
After a long while, Reynard began to look something like himself again, and after thanking Korbin for his hospitality I returned to the group. The Trump I had of the Golden Gate would take us back to Reynard's mansion that Greyson, Shen, and I had investigated so long ago, and from there, Reynard could return us to his "private shadow" and gather the others. When I tried to question him as to this, and for why he would have a Trump card of the Darkling Realms that did not go there, he gave me a tired a look and asked if I really needed to get into that now. Granted, it was not the greatest time, but my interest was more than piqued. Things were adding up in somewhat disturbing ways. I gave in, and we went back to his mansion.
While recovering more of the cards, he went into a little detail as to how he'd ended up captured. Lo and behold, his enemy as Kazor -- the same as ours. This could be good, as it has been said that the foe of one's foe is made one's ally by the fates. I could tell that the wheels were spinning behind Fletcher's eyes as he regarded the story as well. Reynard used another of the cards, and we ended up back in the room where the illusion of Lucas Reynard had fooled us before, and Reynard himself disabled the trap.
With a few simple commands, he'd identified that some of our party had managed to break out of the shadow. Before that could go into particulars, Stark, Ilie, and Cecily came down the stairwell. As we greeted them, Cecily, with a very disturbing expression, walked up to Reynard, said a few words, and then proceeded to try to bludgeon his head from his shoulders. As we separated them, I could only sigh. If it was not one thing, it was another.
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