“Dad!” I called again, as loudly as I could. “Listen carefully! It's Oberon! Can you hear me? Can you stand up? Give me a sign! Dad!”

No answer. He didn't so much as twitch.

He might have been lying there for days or weeks. Time moved strangely from Shadow to Shadow. How long had I been trapped in that gray fog, anyway? I had no way of knowing.

Until I found out otherwise, I had to assume he was alive but merely unconscious. Perhaps creating the Pattern had done something to him—exhausted him to the point of collapse. Maybe the unicorn had brought him back here for his own safety. I couldn't rule anything out.

I paced around the Pattern, trying to figure a way through. If I had a Trump showing the center of the Pattern, I could use it to travel there. I supposed I could always try to draw one… but with what? I had no pen, no ink. I could use my own blood, I supposed—but then I didn't have any paper or vellum.

“Dad!” I called again. “Wake up! Dad!”

Still no response. I looked around for the unicorn. Never a divine being when you needed one… she seemed to have abandoned me here.

I recalled how I had once traveled across an image of the Pattern inside the unicorn's ruby. It had been difficult, but not impossibly so. If this version worked the same way, maybe I could work my way through it to reach him.

I headed toward what seemed the obvious starting point: the place where Dad had begun tracing the Pattern with his blood. Here, when I stretched out my hand, I felt a curious pins-and-needles sensation in my fingertips… but no barrier blocking the way. Apparently I could enter the Pattern here, treading its long, convoluted line like a path.

“Hesitation is for cowards,” I told myself with more courage than I felt. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. No turning back now.

The moment my foot touched the Pattern, my peripheral vision flickered faintly. The tingling sensation spread from my fingers through my entire body, and I shuddered involuntarily.

With my second step, a needle of pain shot through my head. As a low drumlike throbbing began in the back of my skull, a curious ache spread through my head and into my eyes.

I can do this.

I took a deep breath.

Keep moving.

Once more the Pattern seemed to radiate power in waves. A strange giddiness ran through me, and I almost giggled. It actually felt good in a way I couldn't properly explain. Strength coursed through me. I took another step, and then another.

Suddenly everything got harder. Keeping my head down, I had to concentrate on moving my feet one at a time. With every step, a strange and slightly unpleasant jolt shot up each leg and into my thighs.

Don't stop.

One foot after another.

Keep going.

My gaze followed the sweep of the path as it wound into a series of long and graceful curves. I knew every twist and turn already, just as I knew the battle-scars on the backs of my hands. The pattern was a part of me, forever seared into my mind. Blindfolded, I could have followed the Pattern's line without missing a step.

I entered the first curve and suddenly walking got really hard. My legs dragged; I forced myself to pick up each foot and put it down again. Sparks swirled around my boots, rising to my knees, and every hair on my body stood on end.

Don't stop.

One step, then another, then another.

Things got easier at the end of the curve, and I let out my breath in an explosive gasp. My head pounded. My shirt clung to my back, uncomfortable and clammy with sweat. Nothing I could do now, though. I couldn't exactly turn around and go back. Besides, I had come at least a third of the way.

After a brief period of easiness, the path started to grow hard again. Sparks swirled up to my waist. I seemed to be slogging through mud.

Another step. Then another. Then another.

My legs went numb. Then the numbness spread to my chest, and I had to force myself not only to walk, but to breathe. It would have been all too easy to give up, but I refused to take the easy way out. Dad needed me.

Rounding another curve, the numbness passed and I could move easily again. Blue sparks ghosted across my clothes and skin. I had the sensation of thousands of insects crawling over my body. I had never felt anything like it before.

Not much farther now.

Keep moving.

Halfway there.

I tucked down my head and pressed on. The path curved back upon itself, then straightened. Still I slogged on through what felt like miles of heavy mud that sucked and pulled at my feet.

Slowly, the end grew near. I could see my father's face clearly now. His open eyes stared up into space. Dead? Had I come for nothing? Then his eyes blinked—he was alive!

“Dad?” I gasped. “Dad—can you—hear me—?”

A crunching sound filled my ears. The hair on my neck and arms rose again. I had to force myself to take each step forward. If I stopped, I didn't think I would be able to get started again.

The path curved sharply, and all of a sudden I found I could walk almost normally. Gathering my strength, I strode forward as quickly as I could, but then a heaviness grew on me. I found it harder and harder to advance, as though chains now dragged on my arms and legs and chest. I might have been pulling a ten-ton weight.

Gritting my teeth, I pressed forward. One step. A second. A third. Each took more effort than the last. When I raised my hand, sparks poured like water from my skin.

Through!

Suddenly, I could walk again. Sparks dashed and flew all around me. I felt hot and cold, wet and dry, and my eyes burned with a fire that could not be quenched. I blinked hard many times.

One more curve.

Almost there.

Dizzy, I reeled through another curve, a short one. Then straight, then another curve.

It was the hardest yet. I could barely move, barely see, barely breathe. My skin froze, then boiled. Sparks blinded me. The very universe seemed to beat down upon my head and shoulders.

I concentrated on one foot at a time. As long as I kept moving, I drew closer to my goal. Just another inch at a time—anything to keep going—

I could barely see the Pattern. Unable to breathe, I used the last of my strength to take a final step.

Then I was through. I had made it.

My legs felt weak. Drawing on final reserves of strength I didn't know I had, I staggered to my father's side.

“Dad?” I said. It came out barely a whisper. “How about helping me out here?”

He didn't move. Somehow, I managed to kneel, then roll him over. I checked him for wounds, but he seemed whole—nothing worse than a slight bruise on the back of one hand.

“What's wrong, Dad?”

Slowly his lips moved. He seemed to be trying to speak.

I leaned close, straining to hear. He kept saying what sounded like, “Thellops… Thellops… Thellops…”

“Thellops?” I demanded. “What in the seven hells is that!”

He stared blindly off into space. His lips continued to move. Clearly he hadn't heard me. What could be wrong with him?

“Come on, Dad!” I said. I shook him. “Wake up! I can't get you out of here by myself! Dad!”

Still no response.

Grabbing him under the arms, I hauled him to his feet. Maybe he'd come out of it if I got him up and moving. His head lolled forward. When I draped his arm across my shoulders, he was so much dead weight. He made no effort to support himself.

“Attention!” I barked like a drill sergeant. “On your feet, soldier! Move!”

That would have gotten me up, no matter how hard or painful—as a soldier in King Elnar's army, obedience to orders had been drilled into me. You didn't make Lieutenant without it.

“Dad!” I said, urgently. “I need you awake now! Dad!”