“Only way is to play! Only way is to play!” Dhurka screeched as Vi held her pinned to the wall.
Gavriel, Vi and Dhurka stood in a small group at one end of a massive cavern. The entirety appeared to have been carved out by magic. The walls were smooth and featureless. The ceiling was lost in shadow. The floor beneath their feet was featureless grey slate. It would have been a welcome change from the black and white marble of the levels above, but the grey persisted only as a thin strip along the boundary of the room. The rest of the floor was a massive affair of black and white tiles, arranged in a ches-board pattern.
It, however, did not end there. Massive, stylized statues dotted the board – life-sized replicas of actual ches-pieces. There was kynge and quean, bischopis and deuylls…and a number of stranger pieces that a modern ches-player would have a great deal of difficulty grokking.
In addition, floating platforms of stone drifted in slow and stately orbit around the center of the board. Their rotations and altitudes all differed, but they were universally matched to the ches-board below in terms of shape and colors. One or two even featured a statue or statues of their own.
In the exact center of the room was some sort of black and white stone cage. Leibrev and Valeral were trapped inside. Every so often a rather despondent cry for help drifted across the intervening space. There was no sign of the strange gargoyle-like creatures that had carried them off.
Vi tightened her grip on the gobliness. Dhurka went from white to a rather alarming shade of purple. Gavriel reached out and placed his hand on Vi’s shoulder.
“Vi. Vi, let her go. We’ve tried sword and spell, flying, running, jumping, walking, and if there was water available, you’d have flooded the place and suggested we try swimming. We should listen to her. She knows this place.”
“She knows something alright,” Vi snarled.
“Well, whatever she knows, you won’t find out if you strangle her. She can’t speak without a windpipe.”
Vi growled in frustration, but released her grip on the gobliness. Dhurka fell to the ground with a thump and began sucking in great lungfuls of air.
“Only way is to play,” she rasped weakly.
“What do you mean, Dhurka?” Gavriel knelt down near to her. “How do we play?”
The little creature looked at him incredulously. Vi hissed in frustration and strode over to pace the edge of the ches-board. Dhurka watched her go with wide eyes. When Vi was a safe distance away, the gobliness looked back at Gavriel.
“Only way is to play ches. That ches. Side and piece, choose. Play to the center. Really play. The old master, he liked his games.”
“Old master? You mean the wizard who built this place?”
“Yes. Old master was nice. Not like new master. New master scary. Smells of rotten eggs.”
“You’ve met him?”
“At trial where Dhurka lost clan-right.” The little gobliness snuffled. A fat tear welled up in her eye and rolled down her cheek. Then she straightened.
“Dhurka lost clan right because of new master. So Dhurka help the Outsiders. Many Outsiders come. None are good at ches. Most die above. Dhurka would help, but she is not allowed to play ches anymore.”
The little gobliness began to cry again. Gavriel reached out awkwardly and patted her shoulder in a somewhat comforting manner.
“So, we have to choose a piece to be and a side to play?”
Dhurka nodded.
“And you can’t play. Can you even step onto the board?”
Dhurka shook her head and started to bawl.
“Uh, there there. It’ll be alright. You’ll be able to play again. Someday.”
“You, you really think so?” Dhurka sniffled.
“I’m sure of it. Now, all we have to do is choose white or black, and designate the piece we wish to be?”
“Choose side first. Maybe board let you choose piece. Maybe not. The rules change.”
“Change? What do you mean they change?”
“Ches rules.” Dhurka looked confused. “Ches rules always change, based on time and things. Is how to play ches. How else you play ches?”
Gavriel gave Dhurka a long look.
“How do you play ches?”
***
Across the board, well beyond reach of mortal sight, Leigh stretched seductively, garbed in the raiment of a Mage-Priestess. Black silk and leather from head to toe, she called out over her shoulder.
“Drang! Hurry up! We haven’t got all day. If that tin-titted wonder beats us to the boys I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can,” Drang protested, garbed in the sable mantle of King. “What makes you think she’s here, anyways?”
“She is. Trust me. I can smell her cheap perfume a mile away. Like rust, violets and silk panties. Come on!”
Drang lifted his head and sniffed once, loudly.
“Hurry up!” Leigh voice was the crack of a whip.
“I’m coming, I’m coming! Bladelord’s balls,woman, calm down!”
At that moment, his crown was the only thing that spared him the lightning rod.
***
“The way I was taught to play ches, the board is flat and one level, the rules don’t change and–” Gavriel paused, flummoxed. “I’ve never even heard of some of these variants!”
“Oh, just give it up already,” Vi broke in. “All we have to do is pick a side.”
The swordswoman stepped onto a white tile. Before she could open her mouth, she dissolved into a dancing whirlwind of white lights which sped off to swirl around a statue roughly halfway between the edge of the board and the middle. The lights coiled around it and sank in. For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen; then Vi burst forth like a butterfly from its cocoon. Bits of stone went flying across the board, dissolving in little puffs of smoke as they hit the tiles.
She was outfitted like some sort of ancient warrior priestess. A massive headdress settled solidly onto the crown of her head and trailed ornamentation down to her heels. The vestments of her order were shining gold and alabaster, white samite and leather. Her sword glimmered with a subdued white light.
“What in the nine hells is this?” Vi looked down at herself. “I look ridiculous!”
***
It was no louder than the sound a single drop of water makes falling into a still pool. And yet, that tiny sound was enough. Slumber, already wearing thin, began to part entirely, and consciousness rose once more from the depths. If it had had eyes, it would have blinked.
Wha- Where am I?
***
Vi attempted to step forward, move towards her nephew. Her foot hovered in place above the black tile. It would not fall upon it. Vi attempted to jump on it. She ended up sprawled over her tile, vestments verging on dishabille.
“Gav, get your butt out here and help me! I can’t move!”
The sorcerer sighed theatrically and winked at Dhurka. Straightening his robes, he yelled across the field to Vi.
“You’re a High Priestess of the White. You can only move diagonally on your own color.”
“What?” Vi yelled back. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. How am I supposed to charge?”
Gavriel didn’t answer. He was nothing more than a swirling mass of white lights himself. They danced across the board before surging upwards to infuse a statue on one of the rotating platforms, above.
“Gav,” Vi hollered. “Gav?”
“I’m right here.” Gavriel’s head poked out over the edge of the platform.
Vi choked. The head that poked over the edge of the floating board belonged to Gavriel alright, but it was bedecked with more jewels than the city of Vyne had scarlet lanterns. An intricate tiara in white gold and diamonds trailed silver chain down to a gown of white brocade and alabaster samite. He held a dainty scepter in his left hand. It appeared to feature several prominent unicorns.
“It’s not funny,” he stated flatly.
“It’s kind of funny,” she replied.
“Bytche.”
“Quean.”
Vi burst into gales of laughter at the witticism. Gavriel smiled at her sourly.
“That was far too easy a quip to be that amused,” he observed acidly.
“Well, you’re the expert on easy—”
“High Priestess to Black Knight, full advance,” Gavriel snapped.
Vi found her armour marching forward diagonally without so much as a nod to her consent. She struggled against it, but her movements were inexorable, even to herself. The Black Knight loomed above her. As she approached, the visor of its helm turned slowly towards her. By the time she arrived, its sword was at the ready. Fortunately, so was she.
Sparks flew as they crossed blades. Having arrived in its square, Vi found she could not leave, not even to set a foot outside its boundary for better leverage. It made the battle interesting, to say the least.
After several awkward swings and near misses, Vi managed to slide her sword through the Knight’s guard. It pierced his visor and slid easily into the darkness within. The figure stiffened, becoming a statue once more, before falling to rubble and then to dust at Vi’s feet. Even the dust dissolved into nothingness and drifted away.
“Nicely done,” Gavriel commented.
“What the hell did you do to me?”
“I’m just playing the game. The only way is to play, after all.” Gavriel smirked. Vi could see it from where she was standing, and if she couldn’t, she would have known he was smirking anyways.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“You couldn’t even if you tried. I am, after all, your Quean.”
***
“I see them,” Drang rumbled in an approximation of a whisper.
“Where?” Leigh’s eyes scanned the board predatorialy.
“There. Vi’s all dolled up like some sort of Priestess.”
“Ah,” a slow, cruel smile carved itself across Leigh’s face, “perfect. Black Pikeman to High Priestess, full advance, attack from rear.”
Drang chuckled.
“Nice move.”
Leigh’s eyes sparked, wickedly.
“Thank you.”
The sorceress adjusted her headdress and struck a pose.
“You know, I’m actually starting to enjoy this.”
***
“Yeah? Come down here and say that!” Vi hollered.
“Ah, no, thank you. I think not.” Gavriel smirked from on high.
“Why? You scared?”
“No. It’s just not a tactically sound move. Duck.”
“Tactically sound? Duck? What? Who are you calling poultry, you—”
A polearm slammed Vi upside the head. She reeled. A black Pikeman was contesting her square. Snarling, Vi drew her sword and dove into the fray. In moments, another pile of rubble was dissolving away into dusty nothing.
A high, piercing laugh rolled across the ches-board. Vi’s eyes widened. Slowly, she turned to face the source.
Leigh stood several squares away. She was garbed in the black robes and conical headdress of a Mage-Priestess. True to style, the robes were far more revealing that was the standard accepted fashion. Vi’s sword seemed to twitch in her hand.
“Leigh? What in the nine hells are you doing here?”
“Playing the game, darling, same as you are. Although we’re in it to win it. My dear little boy needs rescuing. Before something else happens.”
“I see that’s not stopping you from having fun.”
“Oh, Vi, darling,” Leigh trilled, “nothing stops me from having fun.”
“I know. Swordlady’s tits, woman, the whole of the city of Vyne knows. What I didn’t know was that you knew how to play ches.”
“I’ve always been very good at games.”
“That’s wonderful, Leigh. Too bad you’re going to lose this one.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
“I don’t think you have what it takes, Vi, dear.”
“Oh, Leigh, honey, you won’t be fighting me.”
“No?”
“No. You’ll be fighting us. Gav!”
“Seneschal, sneak-attack, Mage-Priestess.”
A thin, white statue hooked across the board to slam into Leigh from behind. She yowled, partially in pain but mostly in outrage. Black energies crackled at her fingertips. Vi frowned. Decent handle on her abilities already. Damn.
“Peasant, filth-spew, Alabaster Quean,” a voice boomed across the board.
Vi winced as a familiar shriek of indignation echoed off the rafters. Well, someone had distracted Gavriel. A massively brawny figure trussed up in the robes of monarchy crept into view. Vi burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it.
“Swordlady’s sacred sheath, Drang. You, you’re…”
The laughter staged a bloody coup and seized control of her vocal cords once more. The barbarian winced and tugged at his too-tight clothing.
“Never did like wearing too many clothes. Restricts movement.”
“High Priestess, full-advance, Sable Monarch.” Gavriel hissed from above. “No quarter.”
Vi protested as her limbs drew her into motion once more. She neared Drang’s postion in one move, but he was safely ensconced on a black square. She couldn’t reach him.
“Aha! Gotcha!” Leigh’s voice crowed in triumph. “Darkness-from-Below, rise up!”
Vi found herself flanked between Drang as the Sable Monarch and a smoking black tile that had begun to bend and stretch, as if something on the other side was attempting to push its way through. One ebony claw pierced the veil and a demonic figure clawed its way up to stand on a black square newly resolved to support it. It flared massive, bat-like wings and roared.
High Priestess Vi wiped devilspit off her face and stared at the thing. Why? Why her? Why now? Why Leigh, of all people?
“How the hell did she do that? Gav? Gav!”
The only answer was the clash of arms. Drang withdrew one square. Something white was furiously attacking Leigh. The devil pulled a lash of shadow from nowhere and set to making Vi’s life a living hell. The whip snaked around her wrist and held.
“Woo hoo! Bondage! I think I’m going to enjoy this,” Drang hollered.
Vi’s eyes spat white-hot sparks. She drew her sword with a smooth motion. White light burst forth, bathing her in a glimmering radiance. She turned towards Drang, leveling the sword in his direction.
“High Priestess, full advance, Sable Monarch. Drang, when I’m through kicking this devil’s arse, you’d better hope and pray you are far, removed, because I will be coming for you. I promise.”
Drang withdrew another square. Vi showed her teeth and turned back to the devil, eyes gleaming.
“Alright, stranger, let’s dance…”
***
The two Pawns watched the fracas, standing quietly side by side. One white, the other black, they wore identical smiles.
“So far…”
“…so good.”
***
Gavriel turned his back on the combat. There should be enough pieces in play to keep the three of them occupied. The sorcerer relocated to the platform nearest the floating cage. One move. Nice, that. Economical.
“Gavriel? Is that you?” Valeral’s voice was shaken, but neither he nor Leibrev seemed too much worse for wear.
“It is.” Gavriel winced and straightened his tiara. “Hang in there, I’m working on getting you out.”
“The cage will only open for the winner,” Leibrev spoke up suddenly. “They told us that, when they dropped us here.”
“You’re supposed to weaken one another,” Valeral added.
Gavriel’s hand stopped in midair, reaching towards the bars of the cage. After a moment, he withdrew it. He turned to gaze out across the panoply of black and white throughout the cavern.
“It’s all a game, the whole thing,” he whispered. “Someone is playing us, toying with us.”
***
A delighted cackle rasped out over the assembled ches-boards. Joints creaked and two hands reached out to move pieces across two boards. The final move set in place was a ninety-degree twist of a small minaret…and the trap was set.
***
The two young men stared at the sorcerer, silently. Gavriel glanced back at them, a serious look on his face. Then he cracked a grin and laughed.
“Magelord’s eyes, there really is no innovation left is there? They always toy with you. They’re always using pawns. Not usually as intelligently as this, I’ll grant, but there is always some sort of machination involved. And the way to unravel it all and get to the bottom of things, is, well, to get to the bottom of things.”
Gavriel gazed down towards the floor. He glanced back at the stone cage and flicked a spare glance towards the melee raging across the ches-board floor.
“The only problem is…which way is down?”
“Uh…that way,” Valeral offered, pointing towards his feet.
“No,” Gavriel shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Too obvious.”
“Unless that’s what the bossman in the basement wants you to think,” Leibrev interjected.
“I don’t think so. Too recursive, not twisted enough for the mind of a ches-master. Now, if it started down and then twisted to the left or right, that would be more interesting, less expected, and play to the expectations of the less-clever and the too-clever-by-half.”
“How many moves ahead can you read when you play ches?” Leibrev’s eyes narrowed with interest.
“Depends. I—” Gavriel shot another look towards the combat. “Bishopric, intercept, Dark Army Entire. Sorry.” Gavriel looked back to Leibrev. “Five to seven moves ahead.”
“Ah. I only read three or four. I must admit, though, I should like to play you in a game, after this, if we have the chance. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“From Leigh.” Gavriel nodded.
“No, from Drang.”
Silence.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Really. He talks about you a lot. I think he’s jealous that Vi chose you as her partner.”
“Chose me!?” Gavriel sputtered. “That bytche didn’t choose me.”
“You chose her then.”
“Ha. Not hardly.” Gavriel sniffed. “No one in their right mind would choose that.”
Silence.
“If you didn’t choose her, and she didn’t choose you…” Valeral ventured, after a long moment.
“I suppose,” Gavriel sighed, “I suppose we chose each other. It’s complicated. I think—”
The devil roared in anger and anguish. The trio gathered in and about the cage looked back to the battle. Drang was several squares away, braining a peasant with his scepter. Leigh was laughing madly as she blasted some sort of holy man or other with dark lightning. Vi was a blinding pillar of light that moved and darted, battling the devil that stood before her.
“Die, fiend, and may thy soul be cast back into the blackest depths of the pit which hath spawned thee!”
Vi loosed a bloodcurdling battlecry and drove a sword blazing with alabaster fire deep within the heart of the devil. The beast threw back its head and keened, an ear-splitting sound that clawed at the mind like nails on a chalkboard. Slowly, it began to dissolve, falling faster and faster to dust and nothingness.
Victory! Sweet victory for Light, Truth and Justice!
Gavriel blinked. He glanced towards the duo in the cage. They were exchanging a startled glance.
“So, you heard that as well?”
They nodded. Gavriel found his eyes drawn back to Vi, still gleaming with that radiant white light. Sword aloft, she marched resolutely towards Drang. The barbarian looked rather discomfited. He was beset on all sides by a mob of peasants, knights and other assorted forces. The arrival of Vi hammered down on him, the final nail in his coffin.
“Cheque-matus,” Gavriel breathed, slumping with relief.
***
Crooked, bony fingers reached out and spun the board. It rotated several times before coming to a stop. Cackling, the hand reached out once more, this time to rotate a small minaret once more.
A new trap was set. This was proving to be a very interesting game. Very interesting indeed.
***
A pair of voices yelped in protest. Gavriel whirled around. The bottom of the cage had fallen open and the two youths imprisoned therein had vanished down the hole. The cage itself was falling to dust.
“Vi,” Gavriel shouted, “get up here.”
The trappings of his role in the game were likewise dissolving, falling to dust in perfect point and counterpoint to the cage before him. Vi appeared in moments, moving on the fading swiftness of her game-abilities. The white light was fading, lingering only for a moment longer in her eyes.
“Where are the boys?” she demanded.
“Down there,” Gavriel pointed.
What are we waiting for? We needs must rescue the puir youths!
Gavriel and Vi froze. Vi looked at Gavriel. Gavriel looked at Vi.
“Ah, Gav?”
“Yes, Vi?”
“Did you say that?”
“No. No I did not.”
“Well, it wasn’t Drang. Leigh?”
“Leigh?” Gavriel snorted. “Please. Never in a million years would she talk like that, even if she could speak mind-to-mind.”
“So if it was neither me nor you, nor Leigh nor Drang…who was it?”
I spoke, fair maid! ‘Twas I, thy valiant blade!
Gavriel and Vi slowly turned their heads to stare at the sword still gleaming in her hand. It twinkled the lights at its hilt merrily at them.
Well met, my friends!
Gavriel and Vi looked at one another again.
“Well, dayum.”
To Be Continued…
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