Dhurka and Glag flew up out of the crevasse, shrieking in fury. They redoubled their attack. The Grandmaster raged. In the darkness, Neniel’s light blazed ever brighter.

There was no choice but to Smite the UnJust Evil before her.

***

The manacles dissolved. Gavriel’s eyes flew open. In an instant, he took in the battle above. The sorcerer sat up suddenly, forcing Valeral to dive to the side to avoid getting his nose crushed. Gavriel spared the youth a glance.

“You. What happened? Now. Start with that little display one level up.”

“We Sanctified a desecrated altar of our God,” Valeral said.

“In return we were confirmed in His Service,” Leibrev added.

“Priests. Vi will be thrilled.” Gavriel sighed.

“Mage-Priest–” Valeral began.

“–and Warrior-Priest, actually,” Leibrev finished.

“Wonderful. And you planned this whole thing.” It was not a question. Valeral answered it anyway.

“We did.”

“You had help. Dhurka and Glag. They were in on this.”

“We needed inside information, they needed help to reach the deeper levels. We didn’t know why. We tried to ditch them and get ahead of you all, just in case. We wanted thing to be done and dusted before they got too deep, just in case.”

“Well, they got what they wanted.” Leibrev stared up at the two flying Queans.

“That’s them?”

“Yeah,” Valeral nodded. “I think that they–”

“Pawns. Pawns upgrade to Queans once they reach the opposite side of the board.”

“That what we were thinking,” Leibrev said.

Gavriel nodded once, sharply.

“Do you think we can count on them to help us now?”

“I…don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t trust them,” Leibrev interjected coldly.

“I didn’t ask if we could trust them.” Gavriel’s eyes were equally cold. “I asked if we could count on them to continue their attack. I want to know whether or not I have to waste energy defending against the possibility that they will turn on us, rather than him.”

“I don’t think we can even trust Aunt Vi. She doesn’t sound like herself, and I’ve never seen her sprout wings of white light before.”

Gavriel stared up at the flitting form of his partner.

“Neniel,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Vi’s possessed.”

“What do we do?”

“Stand guard. I’ll see if I can break her free. Then we’ll deal with the Grandmaster.”

Gavriel rose.

“I don’t appreciate his lack of respect for fine clothing.”

***

The Grandmaster was breathing heavily. He had not needed to exert himself to this degree since he had been bound here in service to the last Grandmaster. He faced not one, but two Queans, neither under his control. Endgame approached.

“I have never been defeated! You shall not lay me low. I will rule forever.”

“You were defeated,” Glag screamed.

“The Old Master defeated you, defeated you and bound you.” Dhurka dove and sank her claws deep into his flesh.

“But you betrayed his Final Command.” Glag struck as well, ripping and tearing.

“For that, you will die.”

“And we shall take up the lost mantle and rule as he would wish–”

“–playing ches as it was meant to be played.”

“You will die,” they hissed as one, “as we shall reign as Queans.”

The Grandmaster struggled. Their claws tore deep gashes into his body. It hurt.

The Grandmaster was bleeding.

***

In the darkness, a shadow moved. It stole in, under cover of light, a slow and questing seeker.

Vi? Are you there? Can you hear me?

It was Gavriel. Vi’s spirit quivered within its steely prison. Cautiously, she reached her mind towards the questing shadow.

I’m here! Gav, she won’t let me go. She, my goddess, I think she’s got a crush on me. You have to get me out of here and back into my body where I belong!

I’m working on it. Gavriel’s voice weakened. She’s got a tight grip on you. I’m- I’m losing you! Fight it, Vi! Fight the control. You-

And then he was gone.

In the darkness of the sword, Vi sighed and set to testing the boundaries. They had to be here somewhere.

She wasn’t that much like Neniel. She couldn’t be.

If nothing else, she had a better rack.

***

The light was blinding.

The Grandmaster had flung Dhurka and Glag from him once more. Tangled in one another, they clawed desperately at a stalactite, lest they fall entangled to their deaths. The Grandmaster sought in vain for his third opponent.

White light blazed forth from Neniel. It filled the cavern, making it all but impossible to see. At the heart of it was the sword, blazing like a miniature sun.

Snarling, the Grandmaster conjured bolt after bolt of darkness, casting them forth to strike at the light. One by one they dissolved into nothingness, unable to face the glaring brightness.

“For your crimes, you shall die.”

Neniel’s voice blasted throughout the cavern, reverberating off the walls and dislodging small pebbles.

“It was you, demon, who called forth the hordes of vile goblins that slew my wielder’s men. It was you, demon, who flayed their skin from their bodies and consumed their souls. It was you, demon, who seized me and cast me aside so that you might feast upon my master’s heart.”

Neniel’s voice rose an octave. Her words dropped from her mouth, screaming under the weight of import she forced upon each one.

“For all this, and the Countless Crimes Unknown and Unknowable, You Shall Die. The Darkness in your Heart has festered for too long, and the Wages of your Sins have fallen, to Fruit the ground of this place and cover it in a Garden of Evil.”

“No more! I, Neniel, Blessed Handmaiden of Justice, Shall Not Allow It! Die, Fiend! And may your Death be the Baptism of Fire that Cleanses thy Taint from this World!”

The Grandmaster stood, stunned by the sheer force of the verbal onslaught, blinded by the light, mouth agape.

With a searing battlecry, Neniel struck. The Sword of Light slid home and wracked the Grandmaster’s body with coruscating fire. Light burst forth from his mouth and eyes and he exploded into a riot of fireworks.

On the floor of the cavern, Gavriel was shielding his eyes.

“Oh, that wasn’t over the top at all, no…”

***

A thread came loose. Vi allowed herself to revel in the small glimmer of satisfaction. It wasn’t the first time the girls had come to her rescue. It probably wouldn’t be the last, either.

With renewed hope, Vi threw herself into unraveling the threads that bound her to Neniel.

Vi had been called a brass-bound bimbo more times than she could count, but there was no way she was going to let a hunk of tin like this thrice-bedamned sword get the better of her!

***

Neniel was slowly descending. Dhurka and Glag had freed themselves and were trailing not far behind. Valeral and Leibrev held defensive positions over the not-quite-conscious Leigh and Drang.

“What do we do?” Leibrev glanced to Gavriel.

“Just stay calm and follow my lead. I have a plan.”

“We’ve got your back,” Valeral assured him. His eyes flicked towards Dhurka and Glag.

Gavriel moved a few feet away and calmly waited for Neniel to land. She did so, gracefully. The wings vanished and all light save that which lit her eyes flickered and went out.

Dhurka and Glag landed a moment later.

“We wish to negotiate,” Dhurka hissed. “We have no desire for further conflict.”

“But we are prepared to defend our rightful demesne, if it is required of us.” Glag’s gaze flickered to Neniel and back to Gavriel.

Neniel sniffed diffidently.

“I care not what you do with this dank hole in the ground. Justice has been served. The monster is defeated, and I am now free to walk the land once more, fighting for all that is Righteous and True and Just!”

“Self-Righteous, maybe,” Valeral muttered to Leibrev. Gavriel shot him a look. Neniel appeared not to have noticed.

“Ladies,” the sorcerer continued, “I think we can arbitrate an acceptable agreement here. Now, what do you think about–”

***

In the darkness, Vi struggled. No way in the nine hells was this bytche going to keep her down. Oh no. This was a fight the Blushing Violent of Vyne would not lose.

***

“Neniel!” Gavriel’s voice was deceptively pleasant.

Vi’s body turned to the sorcerer, eyes still spilling white light.

“What is it, sorcerer? I have already told you, what I have done is Just. I will not be swayed.”

“Oh, of course not,” Gavriel smiled. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your victory.”

“Ah, well, that is only Just.” Neniel preened. “Thank you.”

“You must be very proud,” Gavriel continued. “Such a remarkable accomplishment is not an occurrence of everyday. Ballads will be written of this battle.”

“Do you really think so?” Neniel’s eyes shone. “It would be so wonderful to spread the light of Justice through song.”

“Oh, I know.” Gavriel smiled a bit too widely. “After all, it’s not every day that a Force of Justice ensures the downfall of the Rightful Order and the Ascent of Usurpers.”

“Yes- Wait, what? No.”

“No? You did not slay the Rightful Ruler of this Dungeon? You did not Aid and Abet these two,” Gavriel gestured towards Dhurka and Glag, “the Usurpers to the Thrones of Black and White?”

The two new Queans grinned widely, revealing row upon row of razor sharp teeth. Neniel’s mouth moved soundlessly and the light in her eyes flickered, briefly. Gavriel rubbed his jaw. Damn Capitals were making it hurt. Hurry up, Vi, Neniel won’t stay off-balance that long.

“You were single-handedly responsible for the Downfall of the Just and Rightfully Appointed Ruler. It’s going to be all over the broadsheets. Bards will sing of this day for Ages.”

“A-ages?”

“Ages. In rhyme. Why, just imagine the multitudes who will be singing your da–”

With a primal scream, Vi surged forth from the sword. The ensorcellment shattered with a near-audible crack. The light vanished from her eyes.

In one swift motion, the swordswoman ran to the edge of the gaping crevasse and flung the sword downwards with all her might. The blade went spinning off into the darkness.

Violet… The sword screamed as it trailed out of sight.

Ringing echoes drifted up as it ricocheted off the walls, until it was out of earshot.

“Aunt Vi!” Valeral rushed to the swordswoman. “Welcome back.”

“Good to be back.” The swordswoman glanced over at her partner. “Thanks, Gav.”

“My pleasure.”

Vi surveyed the chaos. Sighing, she thrust one arm through Valeral’s.

“Well, young man, you have some explaining to do…”

Valeral paled. Vi continued.

“…but I think that can wait until after the handfasting ceremony, don’t you?”

Vi glanced towards Leibrev. Valeral did a double-take, and then grinned. Leigh, just rising to her feet, heard the words and promptly collapsed. Luckily, Drang was recovered enough to catch her. Vi laughed and shook her head.

“My sister is going to kill me…”

***

The waters of the underground stream were dark. Eyeless fish spawned in still pools and hobgoblins and troglodytes lived from the flesh and water of the subterranean rill. Gorak was one such.

Alone, seeking fatter fish and sweeter waters, Gorak’s luminous eyes were drawn to a strange glimmer in the stream. Cautiously he approached. Something shiny glittered amidst the slick pebbles of the streambed.

Scaly claws scrabbled in the water and drew out a long piece of metal. The gleam hurt his eyes. But the touch was enough.

Carry me from this place, foul creature. Carry me to the surface. I have lost my one true love, and that is very unJust…

The End.

Dhurka and Glag hit the ground rolling. No one noticed. Torrents of flame poured from the mouth of the Red Quean. Leigh and Gavriel were hard pressed to hold the fire at bay, while Vi and Drang were desperately searching for an opening.

“We made it,” Glag hissed gleefully.

“Quickly, while the Red Quean is busy.”

Glag produced a pair of daggers, one black, one white. Dhurka took the white blade. She tested it with her thumb. She hissed. The blade was keen.

“Perfect. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then let us begin.”

The goblinesses locked eyes. As one, they raised the blades and plunged them into one another, heart to heart, blade to flesh, white to black and black to white. They collapsed in a tiny heap.

Still, no one noticed.

***

The Grandmaster laughed, light dancing across his features. He stood on a stone ledge far above the fracas below. He had an excellent view of the Quean. Without his board, however, he did not have an omniscient view of every piece in play.

The deaths of two tiny pawns, beneath his very feet, went unnoticed.

***

“I hate fighting underground!” Gavriel’s brow was beaded with sweat as he countered the blasts of dragonsfire.

“Tell me about it.” Leigh covered a gap in the shield of shadows Gavriel had produced.

The onslaught paused for a moment. The voice of the Red Quean boomed throughout the cavern.

“Stop flitting about like that! Stand still and let me swat you like the flies you are. I will not stand for this indignity. Guards! Guards! Off with their heads!”

The dragoness sent a lance of flame blasting towards Drang. The barbarian nimbly dodged aside. He rolled to his feet and struck a heroic pose.

“We shall not allow thy evil to persist, foul beast! Your reign of terror will soon be ended!”

That earned him another spate of flame. Drang took a batter’s stance and swung the flat of his sword at the incoming fireball. The two connected with an actinic flash and the flames sped back towards the dragoness.

They splashed harmlessly off her scales, but elicited a roar of fury. Her tail lashed out and Drang was forced to beat a hasty retreat.

“Drang’s gotten better,” Gavriel said to Leigh.

“We teamed up with Danicae the job before this one. Some of it must have rubbed off.”

“Ah. I’ll wager that wasn’t all that was rubbed. Danicae being Danicae.”

“Ugh. Working with her was a nightmare.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Hey, chatty Cathyra, a little help here?” Vi hollered.

The swordswoman dodged the flailing tail and leapt upon it, running up the red ribbon of flesh towards the dragoness’ head. The Red Quean reared up, throwing Vi from her back. The swordswoman somersaulted in the air and landed lightly in a defensive crouch.

“Gavriel!”

“Oh, for–”

The sorcerer’s hands flew into action.

***

The sword quivered. He was here! The one who had orchestrated the death of her last bearer. He was here, and he would die. No one and nothing would stand in her way. It was only Just.

***

The Red Quean roared in triumph. Drang and Vi lay in a tangle of limbs, dazed by the blow that had sent them tumbling. Leigh’s eyes were rolled up in the back of her head and the sorcereress’ body was weighing down Gavriel’s arms. He had managed to catch her just as she passed out from over-exertion.

“Bow before me, insects! Prostrate yourselves and offer unto me all obeisance and riches at your behest. For lo, I am and forever more shall be thy Quean. Worship me.”

That did it.

“Bytche, please.” Gavriel shoved Leigh off him and onto a pile of rolled up tapestries. “We are so not your subjects.”

The Red Quean snorted.

“A scruffy monkey in a cheap robe? You dare speak to me thus?”

The cavern suddenly went deathly still.

“Oh, you did not–” Gavriel’s voice was an icy sable razor.

“I do as I please,” the dragoness hissed. “I will not be threatened by a two-bit sorcerer wearing knockoff Ahr’manhi.”

Darkness blazed forth from Gavriel’s eyes. Black lightning snarled at his fingertips and a shockwave of penumbral energies radiated out from him in a ripple of concentric rings.

“Two-bit sorcerer? Knockoff. Ahr’manhi?”

Gavriel advanced slowly towards the Red Quean. Rock fractured and split as he passed.

“There’s only room for one Quean on this level, and sister, it sure as spellshot isn’t you! You want to dance? Well bring it, ’cause girl, it is on!”

***

Valeral and Leibrev broke free from the endless loop. They stood, gasping for breath and bloody, once more returned to their right minds.

“I knew allying ourselves with those two was a mistake,” Leibrev said.

“We didn’t have much of a choice,” Valeral replied, “we needed their help to get this far.”

“And they betrayed us.”

“You really expected different from the likes of Dhurka and Glag? We had a good deal. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, or would have been, if they hadn’t pulled that last trick.”

“Well, they made it to the deepest levels. They got what they wanted.”

“And we have to go after them. The others don’t know what’s they’re in for.”

“No,” Leibrev chuckled, “but Dhurka and Glag don’t really know what’s in store for them if they try to take that bunch on headlong.”

“Let’s try to get there before that happens. I don’t want to have to dig my way out of here.”

“Good point.”

***

Goblin bodies cracked and split wetly. The remains of Dhurka and Glag fell to shreds as a reptilian form rose from each corpse. Membraneous wings flared in the shadows.

“Yesss.”

“Reborn.”

“Queans to rule a Kingdom.”

Cackling, they spread their wings and launched themselves into the air. It was time to join the battle.

***

Titanic forces rocked the cavern. The Red Quean thrashed about, bellowing in pain. Gavriel sat astride her neck, leashing her to his will with crackling lines of power. Vi and Drang had recovered and were bringing Leigh around.

“This is unheard of.” The Grandmaster smiled. “Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

In a thunderous voice he called out, “Red Quean Gambit, Grandmaster Stratagem.”

The Red Quean bellowed in agony. A vast torrent of crimson flame spilled forth from her mouth. It poured out, faster and faster, and the dragoness imploded with a crack.

Gavriel fell to the ground, stunned. Drang threw himself in front of Vi, protecting her from the shockwave. It bowled him over and cast him aside like a rag doll. Leigh collapsed back down upon her pile of tapestries.

The flames soared upwards only to spiral down into the open maw of the waiting Grandmaster. Vast feathered wings exploded from his shoulders, feathers gleaming a glossy black. His eyes gleamed red as he absorbed the power of the Red Quean.

Laughing, he looked down upon the scattered forms below.

“Now you face not a King, but a Grandmaster. Welcome to the endgame, peasants.”

Vi struggled to rise. The Grandmaster stepped off the edge of the ledge and began to float down slowly.

“You have provided me more amusement than I have seen in centuries, but now, it is time for you to die.”

***

The moment approached.

***

Coruscating manacles of fire lashed out, binding the unconscious forms of Gavriel and Leigh. The Grandmaster descended ever closer towards Drang, still out cold on the floor, and Vi, who stood over him protectively.

Her hands tightened on the hilt of her sword.

Vi, the sword whispered in the depths of her mind. Vi, listen to me.

“It’s about time you showed up. A little help here?”

I can help you, but you have to let me in first. Like you did when we found Valeral. I can’t fight him without you.

“You expect me to be calm? Now?”

I can’t help you unless you let me in. Just breathe. Deep. Slow. Open your mind…Yes!

Vi felt a surge of fiery exultation. The spirit of the sword blazed across her consciousness and she found herself swimming in a sea of memories and feelings, light and above all else, an unswerving obsession with Justice.
Parts of it were like coming home. Memories, feelings, the lines began to blur. Boundaries shifted, thinned, vanished. Vi could no longer tell where she ended and the spirit of the sword began.

The strange and harmonious resonance keened throughout her body, before Neniel seized control. Vi went spiraling down into steely darkness. Still aware, still merged with Neniel, she found herself thrust into the role of sword, while Neniel took up the mantle of warrior.

Vi reeled mentally as Neniel thrust her sword out towards the approaching Grandmaster.

“Halt! In the name of Justice, I mark thee, wizard. Oathbreaker! Betrayer! Kinslayer! For your crimes, you will die this day.”

Neniel raised her sword and wings of white light shot out from her shoulderblades. She leapt into the air, sword at the ready, fanatic glee gleaming in her eyes.

The Grandmaster laughed.

“You pitiful fool, do you really think–”

The rest of his sentence was lost in the furor of battle. Dhurka and Glag dove into the fray, trailing streamers of queanly majesty (and no small measure of newfound power).

Neniel shrieked and darted in to join the fray.

***

“Mother!”

Leibrev rushed to Leigh’s side. Valeral followed more cautiously, his eyes locked on the melee roiling in the air above.
The White Sorceress groaned. Her eyes fluttered. The manacles about her wrists flashed. She stiffened, briefly, then collapsed back into unconsciousness.

“We have to get those manacles off of her.” Leibrev’s hands hovered nervously over them, not quite daring to touch.

“Watch my back. I’ll have a look at them.” Valeral knelt down beside the stricken sorceress, touching his hands to her temples.

Leibrev, sword in hand, watched the airborne battle closely.

“Make it quick, Val.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, work faster. I think we’re playing timed rounds for this ches game.”

***

The Grandmaster snarled and lashed out with his stolen power. Twin whips of flame skeined out from his hands to wrap around the respective necks of the upstart Queans Dhurka and Glag. Lightning arced from his mouth and eyes, striking downwards to carve open a vast fissure in the floor beneath.

Leibrev shouted and dove. His sword went skittering across the floor and fell into the crevasse, but the warrior managed to grab hold of Drang and pull him back from the edge before the barbarian tumbled into the abyss.

The Grandmaster raised his hands and cracked the lash of fire. Dhurka and Glag went screaming downwards. Fire tore at their wings as they slammed into the edge of the crevasse and plummeted out of sight. The Grandmaster turned, eyes blazing, to face Neniel.

Neniel leveled her sword at the Grandmaster. White light burst forth from the steel and bathed the cavern in its radiance. Words of ringing challenge poured forth from her mouth, old words, words long lost to the hearing of the modern age.

The Grandmaster’s eyes widened.

“I see there was a piece in play I missed. Well, well, well…”

***

Leibrev stared upwards.

“Uh, Val, I don’t think that’s your Aunt up there.”

Valeral’s face was grim.

“No. It’s not.”

“So where is she?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

To Be Continued…

“Give me back my son,” Leigh screamed at the Archbishop. A bolt of white hot light slashed across the intervening space.

The Archbishop batted it aside with one negligent wave of his hand.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I will play you for him, however.”

“For both of them.” Vi’s voice was as steely as her sword and twice as sharp.

“Oh, yes, of course. Best me and you will win their freedom and your own.” The Archbishop smiled.

“What’s the catch?” Gavriel watched the Fey Lord intently. “There’s always a catch.”

“Nothing you’re not already used to. We play by the rules of the level, upon the board we have been given.”

The Archbishop gestured languidly to the cathedral-like cavern, with its throne and altar, sweeping pillars of stalactite and stalagmite, strange carvings and shattered statuary, all shrouded in half an aeon’s dust.

“Not even I could alter the magics that birthed this place. Shall we play?”

“You’re on, little man.” Drang drew his sword and strode forward.

Valeral and Leibrev rose up, smooth, swift motions that were all too unnatural. The chains fell to water and sunlight and faded away completely. As one, they drew swords of night from the darkness around them.

All color ran from them, like oil driven by rain, bletching them in raiment of sable from head to toe. Even their eyes were robbed of color, of white, no more than two black pearls stuck in the sockets.

“What have you done?” Vi’s voice was a deathly whisper.

The Archbishop laughed.

***

The Black Pawn squeaked. The White Pawn paled.

“Where are we?” Glag hissed to Dhurka.

“I have no idea.” Dhurka was staring at Valeral and Leibrev.

“How do we get out?”

“The same way we got in, with the idiot humans clearing the way for us.”

Dhurka grinned nastily.

“One way or another…”

***

The Archbishop was laughing.

Vi’s hand tightened on the hilt of her sword.

The Archbishop was laughing.

Valeral and Leibrev stood before him, holding a defensive position. They did not move. Their faces registered no emotion.

The Archbishop was laughing.

“Shut. Up.” Vi roared and launched herself at the Archbishop.

Her sword flashed. Valeral and Leibrev were there in an instant. Valeral blocked the thrust, twisting her sword through parry and into his own riposte. Blades sang in the darkness.

Light flashed. Darkness roiled.

“Holy Magelord’s Hands,” Gavriel breathed. “The Andyr’nach variant.”

Where Vi had stood, her mirror raised its sword. Eyes like black pearls, with raiment to match, Vi had gone over to the other side.

In exchange, she had redeemed Valeral. Her attack on him had been her downfall. His attack on her, his ascent once more into light.

The youth yelped as Vi and Leibrev turned upon him. Swordblades met and darkness and light danced across the cavern once more.

The Archbishop laughed.

“Oh, bloody hells,” Gavriel muttered.

***

Oh! Oh my. Hello gorgeous. I think I’m going to like this.

Deep in the recesses of its iron prison, the spirit of the Sword of Justice laughed.

I am coming for you, wizard. And this time, you won’t be able to turn my own powers against me…

***

It was chaos. Pure, unadulterated chaos. The cavern existed in a perpetual state of twilight, stained by the continual flash of light and surge of darkness.

It was as close to gray as anything they had seen since they arrived.

“Stop it!” Gavriel shouted in the face of a dark and maniacal Drang.

The barbarian grinned wider and continued his slow advance, sword at the ready.

“I’m not going to attack you, Drang. I can’t attack you. As soon as I attack you, I’ll flip to the darkside. That’s not what anyone here wants. Trust me.”

The barbarian continued his advance.

“Hey, I’m not the one that had your child and didn’t tell you about it. No. Leigh did. Why don’t you go after her?”

Drang paused for a moment.

“That’s right. She betrayed you. Go on. Sic her!”

The barbarian glanced at Leigh. The sorceress was currently shrieking and running from Dark Vi.

“She’s busy,” the massive man rumbled. “Besides, I think we’d have more fun.”

The barbarian leered at Gavriel. Gavriel stared back, askance. Drang stepped forward once more.

“Come on, faery boy, you know you want to help me polish my sword.”

Gavriel hauled back and slammed his fist into Drang’s jaw. The barbarian spun on his heel, tottered, and collapsed. The sorcerer yowled and clutched his hand.

“Dayum that hurt!”

His eyes widened. The shadows rose about him.

“Oh f–”

***

The Black Acolyte and the White froze. Their chance just presented itself.

“Quick, while Gavriel distracts him,” Leibrev called to Valeral.

“And we’re still in our right minds,” Valeral muttered.

The two young men moved quickly through the shadows, trying to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.

***

“Is the Quean-Sign ready?”

“Almost.”

“Will it work?”

“Yes. Just be ready to move on my mark.”

Dhurka and Glag hunkered down, still out of sight, watching the battle and waiting for their moment.

***

Valeral and Leibrev dashed towards the altar. As one, they came to a stop, one athwart either side. Leibrev pulled a white ches piece from beneath his tunic. It dangled on its fine golden chain. Valeral had already produced its twin, done in jet and silver.

The Archbishop roared, sparked to an emotion other than sardonic amusement for the first time in centuries. The Fey Lord flung himself towards the altar, Air and Darkness speeding him through the intervening space.

He was too late. Valeral and Leibrev raised their arms, Valeral his left, Leibrev his right, and a swirling barrier sprang into existence. From beyond the dance of light and dark, their voice rose in a perfectly cadenced hymn.

“What’s happening?” Vi screamed.

“I have no idea!” Leigh shouted back.

The rocks of the cave began to thrum in harmony to the rising crescendo of the chant. The Archbishop drew himself up and blazed with fey fire. Fear and rage roiled in a mad maelstrom within his eyes.

“Oh, that can’t be good.”

***

“They’ve betrayed us once, they will do so again.”

“We cannot take that chance. We are too close to give up now. We will have to deal with them.”

Glag grinned at Dhurka. Dhurka grinned back.

“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“Yes. Only way–”

“–is to play.”

The two goblinesses hissed with laughter and waited for an opportunity to present itself. It would. There was no move in ches that did not leave an opening somewhere. All you had to do was find it.

No one knew that better than the pawns on a ches-board.

***

Black and White, Light and Dark, all took cover as the mad fey lord lashed out. Bolt after bolt of pure, blazing energy lashed out at the dome. After each failure, the Archbishop raged and redoubled the blow. The very cavern shook, gripped in the vise of reverberating power and raging chaos.

Throughout it all, the harlequin globe persisted serene.

The chanting reached full crescendo and abruptly stopped. The resultant silence was deafening. Even the Archbishop paused in his assault.

The two-faced sphere shattered. Shards of energy fell away to reveal three figures. Valeral, Leibrev and a radiantly beautiful being with vast gray wings.

Mad with fey instinct, the Archbishop lashed out. The angel’s eyes widened, but it made no move to dodge the blow. The strike fell…and the Archbishop turned from black to white.

The angel, bloody and cold, smiled as it fell upwards towards heaven. There was no trace of pain on its features as it went. It’s parting words were rich and smooth.

“Be well, Sons of Arthand Kelem1. Be well. You have done well this day. The Blessings of the God go with thee.”

“Swordlady’s sacred sheath, they’re priests?” Vi looked dumbfounded.

“Lady of Incantations, I hope not,” Leigh muttered in reply. “I have a hard enough time dealing with that boy without worry about offending one of the Gods.”

The angel faded from view. Valeral and Leibrev, stared upwards, awe and religious ecstacy plain upon their faces. The Archbishop in White stretched and yawned.

“Well, that was fun. I do hope you enjoyed yourselves. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am late for a saining.”

And with that, he vanished.

***

“Here comes our chance! Activate the Quean-Sign and get the idiot humans. I’ll deal with our allies.”

Glag grinned and bit deep into her arm. Dark blood welled up and dripped onto the floor. Chalk lines blazed to life and vanished, leaving a faintly shimmering hole.

“Just don’t forget to drag me with you.”

“Please. I’m not a human. I can handle it.”

“Make sure you do.”

Dhurka scurried off.

***

Gavriel continued to chant, eyes as black as the dark between the stars. Words of pure shadow dripped from his mouth and the syllables he spoke reverberated throughout the cavern.

“We can’t let him finish that evocation,” Leigh shrieked. “By all that’s Holy in the Nine Hells, where did he learn that spell?”

“I can stop him,” Drang raised his sword.

“Not an option,” Vi snapped.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Leigh demanded.

“We have to get him out of here before he goes supernova,” Vi shouted. “If he’s not on this level, maybe he’ll revert to normal.”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No.”

“This way,” Glag squeaked, popping up next to Vi. “Found hole! Way out! Quick-quick.”

Vi blinked and gave the gobliness a hard look.

“Alright. Drang, check it out. Here’s what we’re going to do–”

***

The Grandmaster called to the Quean. His voice rising and falling in thunderous reverb, he called her to wake.

Before him, a titanic dragon, red as blood, stirred restlessly as she slept upon a small sea of gold, gems and other, more precious, things.

***

“Where are they?” Leibrev asked Valeral, his voice tense.

“I can’t see them.”

“They’re here somewhere. They have to be.”

“Perhaps they found a way into the Quean’s chamber?”

“Even if they had, they’d never advance without some muscle.”

“We have to stop them before they pull us any deeper in.”

“Agreed. Let’s move.”

Before the two youths could take action, hwoever, Vi strode up to them and grabbed each one by an arm.

“You two have a lot of explaining to do.”

“But, Aunt Vi–”

“Shut up. Later. Right now, you will do as I say. If you don’t, we’re all dead. Now listen–”

***

The lights were blinding. Or rather, they were blinding to Gavriel. Leigh had shielded the eyes of everyone else present.

Riotous color roared in a technicolor hurricane throughout the cavern. Leigh was the blinding white eye at the heart of the storm.

“Drang,” Vi yelled, “now!”

The barbarian bellowed and charged forward. Gavriel’s eyes flicked towards him. The barbarian was a credible threat. However, Gavriel would not stop chanting his spell, and therefore could not effectively defend himself.
He was forced to take a strategic retreat.

Valeral and Leibrev joined the attack, alternately driving him to the left and right. Gavriel was backed further and further. The sorcerer continued, evading as best he could, his voice increasing in tempo and urgency.

“Vi, he’s in position,” Drang shouted.

Vi leapt from behind a stalagmite and grabbed Gavriel from behind. As the shadows rose up to claim her, she flung herself backward, falling into the open hole behind her.

She carried Gavriel with her. They disappeared out of sight. Drang shot a look at Leigh.

“We should follow them.”

“Do we have to?” Leigh’s response was dry.

“You’d rather stay here?

“You make a strong argument. Let’s go.”

The barbarian and the sorceress strode towards the exit. Leigh called back over her shoulder as she went.

“Leibrev, dear, hurry up. We might as well get to the bottom of this place and get you some proper training.”

“No, mother, wait–”

It was too late. Leigh and Drang had vanished down the hole.

“Dayum. We have to go after them,” Valeral said.

“Right. Hurry, before–”

Something whirred towards the youths. Instinct took over. Swords flashed through the air. An apparition wielding twin rapiers lashed out at the boys. They moved to defend, swords rising to the quick. Steel rang against steel and the illusion faded.

Blade rang against blade, darkness and light strobed in a vicious war. Valeral and Leibrev stood, toe to toe, caught up in the eternally cycling magic of the level, attack-defend-riposte-repeat. They were stuck in an ever-repeating loop.

Dhurka cackled and stepped from the shadows. Together, she and Glag stepped into the hole and vanished, leaving Valeral and Leibrev to fight it out.

The hole vanished as they passed through it, leaving only the sound of ringing steel in their wake.

To Be Continued…

The Sanctuary of the Bishopric was peaceful. Peaceful gardens of stone, intricate mazes of black and white, and a vast array of tombs, mausoleums, gravestones and cathedrals turned this level into a labyrinth of cold, dead, beauty. The Grand Heirophantic Plaza was a wide, checkered field, growing grass in both black and white.

Here and there, lights appeared. When they vanished, a body rested upon the square so recently occupied by the transient luminescence.

Another light vanished. In its place were not one, but seven bodies. Further, six of the seven bodies were very much alive. Gavriel was shaking his head.

“You didn’t have to kill him, Vi. He yielded.”

“He deserved it.” Vi lifted one foot and placed it solidly on the helm of the Black Knight, lying motionless on the ground beneath her.

Indeed. His fate was Just.

“Let’s just find their bodies,” Leigh’s voice was ragged. “They have to be here somewhere.”

Vi stared bleakly across the field. It was vast, and one out of every three squares, if not more, held a body.

“Where do we start?”

“We start with him.” Drang leveled a massive finger at a tall figure overseeing the removal of a body seven or eight squares over.

“Good idea.” The steel in Vi’s voice matched the steel in Drang’s.

The two sword-wielders in the party fell into step and strode with grim purpose towards the gathering of figures tending to the bodies on the field. The spellcasters trailed behind. The goblinesses held back a moment, whispering. Wide-eyed, their gazes darted hither and yon across the level.

They were getting close.

***

The Acolytes of Black and White were flush with victory. One more hurdle cleared. One step closer to the ultimate goal. They were in place. Everything was in place. Almost everything.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

The voice slid from the shadows, silken and rich as sable.

Swords flashed in the darkness.

***

The party advanced across the field. All the moving figures were strangely elongated ches-men. All of them were garbed in holy raiment, in either black or white, as had become all too familiar.

“Whoever thought you could have too much basic black?” Gavriel muttered to himself.

“It’s almost as oppressive as the white,” Leigh commiserated.

Gavriel shot the sorceress a startled look. Then he grinned and shook his head.

“I could kill for some color, but the blood would only run black or white.”

Leigh just grunted in reply. Ahead, Vi and Drang came within speaking distance of the field attendees.

“We need to find a pair of bodies,” Vi said shortly.

The tallest of the ches-men, the one wearing a strange sort of white miter, turned his head to look at her. Milky orbs studied the group for a long minute. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet and somehow polished.

“There any many here. All who take their rest in the worlds above eventually find their way here.”

“We have a specific pair in mind,” Drang said bluntly. “Can you help us find them or not?”

The barbarian cracked his knuckles suggestively. The sound rang out, strangely too loud in this peaceful place.

“I cannot–”

Vi’s hand went to her sword.

“–but I can take you to one who may. If you would kindly follow me?”

He turned and gestured with one elegant arm towards the largest cathedral in this very, very large cavern. The others of his kind continued to work as he led the party towards it.

***

The interior of the cathedral was soaring. The party spent a lot of time gazing upwards. The architecture was beautiful, but, again, all white and black, with not a hint of color anywhere.

“How very strange,” Leigh murmured.

“Feels like being outside, somehow, doesn’t it?” Gavriel glanced at the sorceress.

“Yes. Strange.”

“Strange. Yes. But nice.”

“Yes.”

Silence reasserted itself as the party was ushered into the grand hall. Their original guide had left them at the door and an underpriest had taken over. He led them to the dais upon which a massive stone altar rested.

“Wait here,” he said.

Then he left.

They stood in silence, awhile. Gavriel gazed upwards. Leigh just stared at nothing. Drang and Vi fidgeted and paced the room, examining every little detail that caught their eyes. Dhurka and Glag studiously avoided touching anything. No one appeared.

Gavriel eventually shook himself out of his reverie and cautiously approached the altar. He was examining some of the finer detail from as near as he dared, when the voice spoke.

The silence didn’t break, so much as it seemed to twist and slide aside in reverence to the speaker. She was tall, a ches-woman seemingly carved of one flawless piece of jet. For someone made of stone, she moved like air or water, flowing, with her robes susurrating around her feet as she walked.

“It is beautiful, is it not?’

“Very, Your Grace.” Gavriel straightened to bow respectfully.

“It tells the story of creation, if you know how to read it correctly. Some say it is the codex of our destinies, down here, mapping out every aspect of our lives.”

“Remarkable.”

“I am told you are here seeking something. How may I assist you?”

“Not something, someone,” Leigh burst in.

“Two someones,” Drang added.

“Two bodies,” Vi clarified, dully.

“Ah. Of course. I thought you had the look of those who had lost someone. I will do whatever I can to help you. Do you have the names?”

“Valeral and Leibrev.”

The Sable Priestess seemed somehow absent, for a moment, then she blinked.

“That is odd.”

“What is?”

“We have no record of those names.”

“Check again,” Drang said bluntly.

“I am sorry, but our archives cannot be in error. There is no one on this level by that name.”

“Can they have gone someplace else?” Vi demanded. “They came here from the Black Knight’s level, the– the hard way.”

“To my knowledge, no. There is no way out of that level save this, and there are only two ways to gain that passage. One, as you did. The other, as you say they did.”

“There has to be another,” Leigh said. “Or you made a mistake. Check again.”

“There is no mistake. I am sorry. Your loved ones are not here.”

“They have to be,” Leigh burst into tears. “I have to see my baby.”

“I am sorry. I can offer you nothing but solace.”

The Sable Priestess ascended the dais to stand reverently behind the altar.

“If it helps, I could say a few words to–”

Silence crashed down like a tsunami. The foundations of peace trembled and shook and for the first time since they arrived, the party felt something other than peace pressing down on them. Vi and Drang had their swords out in a second. Gavriel and Leigh held near-mirror poses as they readied their spells.

“Who,” the voice of the Sable Priestess frosted the room with black rime, “has dared to touch the sacred altar?”

***

The Grandmaster laughed. The Sable Priestess had placed herself in play. His opponents had made a grave error.

Chequematus loomed.

***

The chains were heavy about their limbs. So fine they seemed to be spun of moonlight and cobwebs, but stronger than steel, they held the Acolytes bound. The manacles of gold were even worse. All was not going according to plan.
Their captor lounged above them, on a throne of ebony and jet, alabaster and ivory.

“Well, my little ches-men, we shall have fun. There is a game afoot, and I think I may just sit this one in. Air and Darkness know the Grandmaster could use a bit of competition, a bit of surprise. You see, he doesn’t know I’m here. He doesn’t even know there is a here, here.”

The Archbishop laughed. It echoed in the shadows, lovely in the dark.

***

“Speak truth and I shall be merciful,” the Sable Priestess demanded.

“We didn’t touch it,” Drang protested. “Who’d want to touch that stupid looking thing anyways?”

“Not helping,” Vi hissed.

“Gavriel was looking at it.” Drang said, too loudly. “Maybe he did it.”

Gavriel shot the barbarian an incredulous glance.

“You must be joking. Are you honestly going to stand there and try to tattle on me?”

“Well, you touched it.”

“I did not!”

“Did so!”

“Did not!”

“Boys!” Vi’s voice cracked like a whip. “Not. Helping.”

The Sable Priestess had begun to chant. Her voice roiled throughout the cathedral, tolling like a bell. Whatever was going to answer, it was not going to be good.

“Andyr’nach, Andyr’nach…” The Priestess’ voice grew with each repetition of her chant.

“Andyr’nach,” Gavriel muttered, “where do I know that name from?”

“Running out of time here,” Leigh snapped. “What do we do?”

“I still say he touched it,” Drang said sullenly.

“Well, someone did.”

“Of course,” Gavriel’s eyes widened. “Someone did. And it clearly was none of the ches-men. And if it was none of the ches-men, and none of us…”

“Then it might have been Valeral or Leibrev,” Vi finished.

“It’s worth a shot. You heard the Priestess. We won’t find their bodies here.”

“And I don’t particularly want to stick around and find out what’s going to answer her call.”

“How do we know she isn’t lying?” Leigh did not look convinced.

“Against the rules,” Vi and Gavriel said in unison.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“So what do we do? Can we kill her?” Drang seemed fairly eager to dive headfirst into battle.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Gavriel said, “but she doesn’t have to know that. Leigh, I’m going to need a distraction.”
The sorcerer’s hands began to fly through various arcane gestures. Leigh nodded and her hands took up their own rhythm. Vi and Drang automatically fell into a defensive posture in front of the two spellcasters.

Coils of shadow looped off of Gavriel’s fingers and began to writhe about the cathedral. They spun out faster and faster. From the hallways behind, there were shouts of dismay as the arriving ches-men found their way impeded by masses of snarling shadows.

The Sable Priestess continued to chant, ignoring the efforts of those beneath her. Gavriel’s eyes went dark; he moved his head, slightly, as if searching for something. He froze.

“There. Leigh, I need that distraction, now.”

The White Sorceress threw up her hands and a torrent of fireworks leapt forth. All colors of the rainbow exploded throughout the heights of the cathedral. Red, blue, green and yellow, orange and violet and colors for which there were no names. The only two absentees were black and white.

The chant of the Sable Priestess faltered. She stared upwards, dumbfounded.

“What, what are those?”

“She’s never seen fireworks?” Vi’s voice was disbelieving.

“I think it’s more that she’s not used to the colors,” Drang observed in a rare moment of insight. “Too much black and white in this place. Not enough red.”

“I know. Things don’t even bleed properly,” Vi complained.

Gavriel took advantage of the Sable Priestess’ confusion. He charged up the altar and leapt on top of it. He slid across the top, fingers searching. The Sable Priestess spared him no glance, too caught up in the riot of color above her.

Something clicked.

“Found it,” Gavriel exclaimed triumphantly. “Hang–”

The sorcerer was yanked into the air before he could finish. Liens of shadow drew taut and the rest of the party suddenly found themselves airborne, trailing along behind Gavriel as they all spiraled upwards.

The ceiling seemed to fly towards them and recede with impossible speed all at once. The line played out and they hit some sort of force and reverberated off of it. The sound and the speed conspired to steal their breath away and they found the world spinning too fast to follow.

***

“What happened?” Vi sat up with a groan.

“We escaped.” Gavriel had regained his composure faster than the others. He flecked an imaginary speck of dust from the sleeve of his Ahr’manhi robe.

“Where are we?” Leigh glanced around.

They seemed to be in some sort of small, natural antechamber. Darkness gleamed from the walls in a strange way that enabled them to see perfectly.

“Faery-fire,” the sorceress whispered, shooting a glance at Gavriel.

The sorcerer shook his head in negation. It was none of his work. The White Sorceress paled slightly.

“How did we get here?” Drang scratched his head. “Nevermind. I don’t really care. What are we going to do now that we’re here?

“Well,” said a new voice, “I think that you’re going to entertain me, much as these two have for the past while.”

The darklight shifted, revealing the walls to be made of naught but fancy and faery-dust. The party found themselves in a (relatively) modest throne room. A figure in black silk and black leather lounged upon a white throne, wearing a white mask. Valeral and Leibrev, both very much alive, knelt at the base of the throne, fastened securely to it by chains of silver and gold that ran from neck to hands to feet to the stone near the masked figure’s feet.

“Who in the nine hells are you?” Vi demanded.

“I?” The figure smiled. “I am the Archbishop, and you, delight that you are, are my newest toy.”

***

Soon. Soon the time would come. It had been too long. For now, Neniel rested, conserving her strength. A chance would present itself. She had only to wait. She knew her chance would come.

It was only Just.

***

They vanished! There were no pieces on the board, no pieces on any of the boards. All that remained were his own ches-men.

The Grandmaster roared and lashed out, sending ches pieces flying and boards tumbling. The cavern around him shook with his reflected fury.

Something had gone very wrong.

Someone was going to pay.

The Grandmaster roused himself from his throne for the first time in centuries.

It was time to wake the Quean.

To Be Continued…

The following is a TwitFic Edition Short Story featuring Gavriel and Vi.  It appears here almost exactly as it did on Twitter.  One Tweet was posted per day.

TTH1 – Gavriel quirked his left eyebrow. “You call that a sword?” Vi tossed her hair. “You call those magic hands?” G: Bytche V: Quean #GnV

TTH2 – The bandits should not have been such a challenge. G: You’re getting soft. V: You’re already there. G: Just frisk them for loot. #GnV

TTH3 – The assassin struck without warning. Vi struck back, with extreme prejudice. The assassin revised his fee before blacking out. #GnV

TTH4 – There was a reason they called her the Blushing Violent of Vyne behind her back, Gavriel reflected. And that was it. #GnV

TTH5 – V: Who sent you? The assassin spat in her face. Gavriel sighed. The assassin screamed. Vi’s voice got sweeter. V: Who sent you? #GnV

TTH6 – He caved in minutes. A: Your mother! She sent me! Vi went deathly still. V: My mother? A: Yes, I swear. Please, just stop. #GnV

TTH7 – G: Oh that’s sweet. V: What? G: She remembered your birthday. V: I told you we weren’t discussing it. G: Fine. #GnV

TTH8 – Quiet reigned as they ransacked the remaining bandits for loot. When Gavriel wasn’t looking, Vi smiled. “Thanks, mom.” #GnV

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Wait, where exactly is here?” Vi glanced around, disoriented.

“Nevermind what you’re doing here,” Leigh snapped, “what am I doing here? Where’s Drang?”

“Mother?” Leibrev stood up.

The young man had been sitting against the wall, behind the spot where Leigh had materialized. The White Sorceress turned with a delighted shriek and flew into his arms.

“My baby!”

“Mother! Stop it,” Leibrev snapped. His face colored slightly. “You’re embarrassing me in front of the other gladiators.”

“How can you say that? To me! Your moth— Gladiators?” Leigh looked around her.

The tatterdemalion group had found themselves in a low, dark room. Metal was everywhere, all lacquered white and black. Human and goblins, orcs, bugbears and all manner of strange ches-men figures looked on with interest. Several of them were drooling openly and behaving in all manner of inappropriate ways. In a rare moment of modesty, the White Sorceress went red and fell silent.

No one spoke. The heavy panting increased in volume and tempo. It was Leibrev that broke the awkward silence.

“Come on, guys, that’s my mom!”

***

The sudden translocation across three separate boards disturbed the Grandmaster’s strategem. The unexpected move left several units badly out of position and concentrated enemy forces. He roared and smashed his fist down on an unoffending knight. Some levels away, a poker game was suddenly deprived of its fifth, as the knight in question was swatted out of consciousness.

It did not improve his mood.

“They cheated!” He roared, outraged.

Growling deep within his chest, he leaned over the board and attempted to salvage the situation as best he could. The game had quite unexpected ended up on something far too akin to even footing for his tastes.

“It’s not fair.”

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded petulant.

***

“Leigh? Leigh!” Drang bellowed and came charging through a gaggle of particoloured kobold spearmen, trailing Glag around his neck like a scarf. The gladiators scattered before him like so many, well, like so many ches-pieces.

“Oh thank the Lord of Light,” Leigh took refuge near Drang immediately. “Keep this riff raff away from me.”

Valeral and Leibrev stood with Gavriel and Vi, calmly talking about how they had ended up in this predicament.

However, before accounts could be settled to satisfaction on either side, a gong rang and Valeral faded from view.

Vi’s sword was out in an instant. A split second later, dozens, if not hundreds, of weapons bristled in reply. The swordswoman froze. Gavriel cleared his throat.

“Ah, I don’t suppose anyone could tell us where he went?”

“He’s in the ring,” Leibrev answered, gesturing towards a crustal sphere set in the ceiling.  A miniature Valeral had appeared therein.  “He’ll be back as soon as he wins.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Leigh asked.

“He will,” Vi and Leibrev answered simultaneously.

“Yes,” Gavriel said slowly. He looked askance at Leigh and Drang. One long finger tapped thoughtfully at his chin.

“Leibrev, have Leigh and Drang been with you this whole time?”

“What? No.” Leibrev blinked. “They showed up when you did.”

“Yes, Gavriel darling,” Leigh slid up to him, purring, “you really must tell us how you managed that little trick. It was nice work, but I didn’t think you went in for that sort of lightshow. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Oh, it wasn’t me,” Gavriel said lightly, “it was Vi.”

“Vi?” Leigh shot an incredulous glance towards the swordswoman. “You must be joking.”

Vi glowered at the sorceress.

“Oh, it’s no joke.” Gavriel flicked a glance to the supremely confused Drang. “Although I’m surprised you and Drang got caught up in it.”

“Well, obviously we did. Now, why do you suppose that happened?”

“Well, we were brought here along Vi’s familial connection to Valeral. That’s why we all arrived arm in arm. I can only presume that you got caught up in the wave because of your, ah, familiar connection to Leibrev. But you arrived alone, didn’t you?”

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything,” Leigh snapped.

“Congratulations,” Gavriel turned to the clueless barbarian, “Drang, I had no idea you were a father.”

Silence. Vi shot Gavriel a wide-eyed look. A maliciously delighted smile crept across her face.

“Say what?” Drang blinked.

The White Sorceress had gone as pale as her moniker. Leibrev just looked stunned. Gavriel crossed his arms and stepped back. The gladiators nearby were all watching with avid interest. Vi sheathed her sword and stepped onto the verbal battlefield.

“Leigh, Drang, congratulations! I had no idea you were taking your son out on a family training run. You must be so proud!”

Vi leveled a congratulatory slap on the back at Drang. The barbarian actually stumbled. He seemed to regain his balance quickly enough, however, with his mental balance following just a bit behind his physical balance.

“Son?” Drang looked slowly from Leigh to Leibrev. His featured alternately hardened and softened.

“Dad?” Leibrev’s voice was, if anything, just as dumbfounded as Drang’s.

“Oh yes, I can see the resemblance now,” Gavriel murmured.

The shimmering sound of the gong made itself heard once more and Valeral faded into view.

“What did I miss?”

“Your friend Leibrev is having a little family reunion. Apparently Drang is his father. A little detail Leigh neglected to mention to either of them.” Vi smirked.

“What!?”

Valeral’s impression of a poleaxed steer was excellent, Gavriel noted. His body language, however was– The sorcerer’s eyes widened. So that was it. A slow smile stole across his lips. Oh, that was priceless. Vi was going to have a cat.

The swordswoman in question was watching Leigh and Drang scream at one another with great satisfaction.

“Some people just don’t know how to behave,” she gloated.

“Now, Vi,” Gavriel chided, “that’s not terribly polite. You should be more considerate. After all, this affects Valeral as well.”

The youth shot the sorcerer a narrow, darting glance. Vi turned to her partner, attention still half on the domestic drama in front of them.

“What? This has nothing to do with Valeral. Leibrev, sure, but Valeral–”

“Is Leibrev’s shieldmate, or hadn’t you figured that out yet?”

Vi’s jaw dropped. Valeral groaned and hid his face in his hand. Gavriel leveled a pointed look at Vi’s sword.

“I think your aim was not quite so precise as you assured us it would be. Looks like you pulled the whole family in again.”

“Family?” Vi’s head shot up. “Leigh? Me? Drang?”

Gavriel’s smile widened. Some days, it was just good to be alive.

***

Vi loosed a bloodcurdling warcry and swung her sword with extreme prejudice towards the hapless ches-man before her. He just had time to gape and bulge his eyes at her before the white light claimed him. Everyone that died faded away in that same, strange white light. Swordlady only knew why.

“You may advance.”

The voice echoed hollowly from within the black helm of the Black Knight who occupied the prime spectator’s box. He was the ruler of this level, so far as they could tell. His box was lower than such boxes usually were. Vi snorted. Yeah, like he was going to be worried about a gladiatorial uprising. He’d probably welcome it. She accepted the upgrade of victor and rose one rank before she too faded away. Unlike her opponent, however, she materialized back in the gladiatorial barracks or holding cells or whatever they were calling them.

“It went well, I take it?” Gavriel was buffing his nails on his robe.

“Well enough,” Vi grunted. “Slow and steady and all that claptrap.”

“It’ll speed up.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The higher you get, the fewer challenges of your rank. Battles take longer, but there are fewer of them.”

“You know all this how?”

Gavriel gestured languidly at the warriors surrounding them.

“I talk to people, Vi. It’s a skill you should cultivate.”

“And what else have they told you?”

“Well, for starters, there are only two ways out of here.”

“And those are?”

“The white light. That is, get beaten by an opponent and die–”

“Oh, that’s tremendously helpful.”

“Or advance all the way through the ranks and beat the Black Knight,” Gavriel continued as if Vi had not spoken.

“I like the sound of that,” Vi grinned.

“You would. In any case, you defeat the Black Knight, you can demand one boon, anything within his power. And on this level, he’s got more of it than anyone else.”

“So we could all get out of here, maybe even get a direct path to whomever is behind all of this.”

“At the bottom, I would have said, but yes.”

“You would,” Vi smirked.

“Grow up, Vi,” Gavriel colored.

“Make me.” The swordswoman snickered.

“It could be arranged.” Gavriel’s hands flickered with a dangerous black light.

The sound of the gong shimmered through once more and interrupted. Leigh’s shriek soon followed. Vi winced.

“I’m guessing that means Leibrev was called to fight.”

“Valeral as well,” Gavriel said, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

“Third circle fight!”

The subdued hubbub of the holding tanks suddenly vanished. All eyes turned upwards towards the spherical globe attached to the ceiling. Mists swirled within before parting to reveal Valeral and Leibrev.

“Swordlady be merciful,” Vi breathed. “They’re facing off against one another.”

“To the death,” the Black Knight’s voice rang with a crystalline timbre throughout the room. “The first to kill the other may advance two ranks and face me.”

There was a collective gasp from the assembled warriors. Conversations buzzed to life and whispers dashed from group to group carrying rumors. Somewhere off to one side, there was an explosion of white light.

“Did she manage to dent anything this time?”

“Nope.”

“We have to get up there and help them.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Well, work faster.”

Gavriel shot Vi a dark look.

“Not. Helping.”

Reflected in the crystal above, Valeral and Leibrev began their bout. Neither looked happy, but they advanced upon one another nonetheless, swords at the ready.

“Drang,” Leigh wailed, “do something.”

“I’m trying,” the barbarian grunted in reply.

A meaty thud slapped off one wall and bounced back towards the assembled. Drang groaned. Leigh wailed again and rushed over to Vi.

“Vi, darling, what’s happening? Why are they fighting? You have to do something.”

“Leigh,” Vi attempted to remove the sorceress, who appeared to be clinging to her arm with all the tenacity of a drowning woman to a straw, “there’s nothing I can do without getting into that ring. And so far, none of us has managed to. They have to fight. If they don’t, they’ll both die.”

“There has to be something you can do! You brought us to them once, can’t you take us to them again?”

“I didn’t do it on my own,” Vi snapped. “I had help, and I don’t have that help anymore right now.”

“Well, get it. Get it back,” Leigh regained some measure of her old fire. “I demand you find it.”

The White Sorceress drew herself up haughtily. In the crystal above, the fight was intensifying. Bloodlust sparked a roar of approval as simultaneous first blood was drawn. The White Sorceress looked up and then collapsed into a heap.

“Did she just faint?”

“Yes.” Vi sighed and arranged Leigh into some semblance of dignity. At least she was safe from trampling feet or groping hands for the moment. All eyes were on the match above.

“Gav, you got anything yet?”

“Still working on it,” the sorcerer hummed nervously. “This place is sealed up tighter than–”

Another surge of sound cut him off. Vi looked quickly back towards the crystal. Damn. She had missed it. The swordswoman turned to a grizzled veteran. Maybe he’d be able to control his bloodlust long enough to tell her what she missed.

“What happened?”

“Eh?” The old warrior eyed her for a minute. Literally. He only had one eye. Whether it was natural or no, Vi did not inquire. It wasn’t polite. He shrugged.

“They tried to attack the Black Knight.”

“They what?”

“Oh, they hid it pretty good. Made it look like a couple near misses with boot daggers, but it was an attack on himself, sure as I’m standing here.”  The old warrior spat.  “Didn’t do no good, though. It’s against the rules, so they just bounced right off of some invisible wall in front of his box.”

Vi smiled.  “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Pay attention or you’ll miss more. Those two are up to something. I don’t know what, but they’ve been plotting it ever since they got here.”

***

The Grandmaster’s eyes narrowed. His Black Knight was exposed. There were too many hostile forces too well arrayed against him. The piece would have to be sacrificed. An acceptable loss, provided the Black Knight could remove a number of pieces before it met its demise.

Fingers moved across the board, tactical adjustments to make the best out of a less than ideal situation.

***

Gavriel’s hands stopped seeking a chink in the armour of this place. He glanced over to Vi. The swordswoman frowned in thought as she gazed up at the crystal.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive,” the old man asserted. “Asking lots of questions, whispering with one another. Those two have some sort of agenda. And it’s more than them just being shieldmates and all.”

There was a squeak, followed by another thud. Leigh, regaining consciousness, had just risen shakily to her feet. Just in time to hear the old man’s assessment of Leibrev’s relationship with Valeral. It seems she had still not quite come to terms with that little fact. She promptly collapsed into a dead faint once more. This time, no one bothered to buttress her modesty.

“How long were they here before we arrived?” Vi muttered with some incredulity.

Gavriel just smirked. Vi caught the action and turned towards him slowly. Her voice was low and just a bit too calm.

“How long have you known about this?”

“What,” Gavriel asked, “Valeral and Leibrev? Only a few minutes longer than you.”

“Then what, pray tell, is so amusing?”

“Oh, come off it, Vi. You’ve known Valeral’s past halfway to fey ever since you caught him prancing around in your second-best brass bra.”

“I just thought he wanted to be a swordsman!”

“He apparently still does,” Gavriel grinned.

“Not funny,” Vi hissed.

“You’re being ridiculous, Vi. Calm down. He’s old enough to make his own decisions.”

“He is not! He’s barely–.”

“Barely two years older than you were when you lost your virginity?”

“That has nothing to do with this,” Vi sputtered.

“It has everything to do with this. He’s past his majority. He’s old enough to call his lands his own.”

“I– That– You–” Vi was grasping at straws.

“If he’s old enough to live by the sword and die by the sword, he’s old enough to play at crossing blades with whomever he likes.”

“My sister is going to kill me.” Vi wilted.

“Ah. So that’s the issue. I should have suspected as much.” A surprised chuckle escaped his lips. “Oh my, she is going to kill you, isn’t she?”

“Only because she can’t gut you like a fish,” Vi growled. “Now shut up and get me up there before someone gets hurt.”

“Working on it.” Gavriel’s fingers glimmered darkly as he began seeking a point of egress. “Why don’t you try and rouse that sword of yours?”

“Working on it.” Vi winced and rubbed her forehead. “It’s like shouting in a hurricane. The silence in there is deafening.”
A strangled shriek from Leigh brought attention rocketing back around to the viewing crystal. Valeral and Leibrev were fighting furiously now. Their swords flashed in the too-white light and there were a few nods of approval and whistles of appreciation.

“Nice form,” one axeman commented.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leigh bristled.

Vi’s attention was locked on the battle.

“He’s very good. They’re both very good.” She frowned. “When did he get that good?”

The swords flashed faster and faster. Each young man bled from several shallow wounds. In the background, Vi could just make out the frenzy of a bloodthirsty crowd. They were keyed to fever pitch.

It was over too quickly. Double-feint-riposte. Two swords slipped past two guards. Two blades slid home and two young faces went white. Two figures slumped to the ground, fading into white light just as they reached one another.

“No!” An anguished scream burst from Leigh’s mouth. Gavriel stood, stunned. Drang bellowed and threw himself once more against the wall, trying to batter through with sheer physical force. Vi just stared, and the world faded into endless white nothingness around her.

To Be Continued…

“The Power of Justice? Seriously?”

Let me tell you a story. There once was a young man named…

***

The Grandmaster laughed. No longer dry with disuse, the laugh roiled form his lips, dark and rich. Plans within plans within plans played out across three separate levels of gameplay. His attention was diverted. It was a challenge. It was invigorating. It was a threat.

***

It was not a good day for the Black Pawn. Things were not going at all to plan. The stuck-up sorceress had thrown a fit and stormed off. Glag would have been willing to accept the loss and move on, but the barbarian was refusing to proceed without her.

“No worry,” Glag smiled brightly and entirely falsely up at the barbarian, “we find her.”

And when we do, I’ll kill the bytche myself…

***

“How, exactly, was that story supposed to help me find my nephew?” The calm in Vi’s voice was belied by the barely-leashed fury in her eyes. “As far as I can tell, all it’s done is wasted valuable time.”

Patience is a virtue—

“I don’t possess,” Vi snapped an impromptu end to the burgeoning proverb. “The nine hells with homilies, I want results and I want them now.”

As I was saying, the sword huffed, the separation of family is a great injustice. It is within the power of Justice to right wrongs and restore that which has been rent asunder to unity. As wielder of the blade of Justice, you can call upon your inner righteousness and restore order to the chaos of your life!

“I don’t follow,” Vi said impatiently.

I think I can help get you to your nephew.

***

It was dark. It was dank. Her hair was frizzing. Leigh was in seven of nine hells. What was worse, she was there alone.

“Drang! Where in the nine hells are you? Drang!”

Something moved in the darkness. Leigh froze. Slowly, she turned her head. It wasn’t Drang.

The resultant shriek echoed down the tunnel system and stunned the rat senseless. This was fortunate, as it saved him from being ionized by Leigh’s encore: a searing blast of white-hot light.

The rodent had the good sense to immediately retire back to the cozy little hole from whence it had crept.

***

“Well, then what are you waiting for? Do it! Do it now!”

It’s not that simple–

“How does it work?” Gavriel slid smoothly into the conversation.

I’m so glad you asked. The sword seemed to cough, slightly. As you may know, Blood holds a virtue that foul sorcery can neither subvert nor utterly destroy. Blood calls to blood and blood will tell. Those bound by tie of blood can be severed by no force in Creation. To do so would be a gross violation of Justice, the ruling force of this World.

Gavriel smiled sardonically, but merely nodded at the sword’s words.

“So you use Vi as a conduit, reach out magically, and sort of pull her to Valeral, along the line of their shared ancestry?”

Well, naturally it is far more complicated than that, but yes.

“How many times have you performed this little trick?”

Often enough, the sword huffed.

“How often is often enough?” Vi barged back into the conversation.

Oh for the love of Justi–

“How. Often.”

Fine! Once. I have accomplished this particular feat one time.

“What happened that time?” Gavriel quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

Nothing out of the ordinary, the sword said evasively.

“A lack of forthrightness signifies a lack of Justice, don’t you think, Gavriel?” Vi’s voice was poisoned honey.

“Oh yes.” Gavriel grinned. “Dancing around a question is ever so unJust.”

Dancing? The sword sputtered. I’ve never danced a day in my life. Unless you count the Dueler’s Dance, or the Danse Macabre, or–

“Tell us what happened or I use you to roast dinner over an open fire,” Vi threatened.

Fine! If you must know, I…overshot the mark, somehow.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Vi demanded.

Somehow the entire family was drawn in. All of them. Children, spouses, even the families of some of the spouses. It was quite the family reunion. Very Just!

“I see.” Vi’s tone was grim. “And you think pulling my entire family down into this dungeon with us is an acceptable solution? An acceptable risk? Well, let me tell you–”

“I’m sure Neniel can control its power this time,” Gavriel forestalled Vi’s tirade, which, knowing her, could go on for days. It was her family they were talking about here. One birthday gift from her mother and she ranted for weeks.

Of course! That slight…miscalculation was hundreds of years ago. I am now in complete control of my powers, I assure you.

“You’d better be,” Vi growled. “If I end up face to face with my mother, or Swordlady help you, my sister, I’ll–”

This time Vi was interrupted by the stalking attack of a rather disgusting speidi. Gibbering and clawing, it leaped at the party, a pasty mass covered with tufts of disgusting flesh colored hair. It rather precluded exercising the finer points of verbal intimidation. Plus, Vi needed the sword to fight the beast. It wouldn’t be concentrating on proper contrition whilst covered with blood and gore.

***

The Black Acolyte and the White were nearing their objective. Only three obstacles stood in their way. There would be blood. There would be sorcery. There would be death and resurrection. It would be glorious.

***

The speidi had been summarily dispatched and was already phasing out of this reality and back into whatever hell had spawned it.

“I hate those things,” Gavriel said with distaste. “No matter where you go, you can’t get away from them. It’s like they crave the attention.”

“How did it even get in here?”

“I have no idea, but it does tell us one thing.”

“That there’s a way out.”

“Let’s see if we can find it, shall we?”

“Let’s. Neniel? Let’s do this thing.”

Very well. For Honor and for Justice!

***

The White Pawn watched. The human idiots would extract them from the trap and she would be free to pursue her mission once more. Justice would be served. Dhurka smiled. She was starting to sound like that thrice-bedamned sword.

***

Oh for the love of— Vi! You simply must relax.

“I am relaxed,” Vi exploded, “I’m perfectly relaxed. Just get us out of here.”

“Vi. Chill. Please.” Gavriel reached out and patted her on the shoulder.

The swordswoman took several deep breaths. Then she tossed her braid over her shoulder and glared at the sword.

That’s it. Breathe. Relax. I’ll show you how. Just open you mind and let me in.

“Ugh, fine,” the swordswoman rolled her eyes. “Make with the magic.”

Just follow my lead and I’ll show you how to invoke the power. Your right as wielder, but my energy reservoirs, your link to your nephew, but the magic of my forging. You will all need to be touching one another, or risk being left behind.

And, the sword said nothing for a short space, and don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for awhile afterwards. This could be a very exhausting experience.

Gavriel’s eyes narrowed, slightly, but he made no move to speak or interfere. Dhurka stared, eyes wide. It suddenly seemed very quiet in the small space.

Vi stood rock still. Moments crept by. Gavriel noticed that the air had taken on a vaguely metallic taste.

The first sign that something was happening was the eyes. Pinpoints of pure white light appeared in the depths, waxing until Vi’s eyes shone like twin moons. Slowly, her mouth opened and white light spilled forth from there as well. Her brass bra gleamed in the light, until it too began to glow.

“Take hold,” the voice that spoke was an odd admixture of Vi and Neniel. “We depart soon.”

Gavriel stepped up and took Vi’s arm with his own and reached down to hold Dhurka’s grubby little hand in his own.

“We’re ready,” he said firmly.

“We go,” came the whispered reply.

There was no vertigo, no sudden loss of orientation or surges of nausea. The world just faded out, a wash of white. When it faded back in, they were simply…elsewhere. The white light faded and vanished, lingering last in Vi’s eyes.

“Aunt Vi,” Valeral’s voice was incredulous, “where did you come from?”

Vi didn’t answer, instead, the swordswoman opted to roll her eyes up into the back of her head and collapse. Brass bra met stone and did not find the meet a pleasant one. Metal screeched and all around them heads turned.

Gavriel blinked.

“Huh, well how about that.”

To Be Continued…

“A little help here, if you wouldn’t mind,” Vi grunted.

The swordswoman was straining to lift a massive stone slab. So far as they could tell, it was a sort of door, blocking the entrance to the next level. Vi had managed to lift it perhaps a foot off of the ground. Dhurka scrambled through the open crack, to the other side.

“Lift with your legs, not with your back,” Gavriel suggested.

Vi shot him a murderous glance. Then, without warning, the stone began to grate upwards. It lifted free from Vi’s straining hands and withdrew into the ceiling. Dhurka poked her head around the doorframe.

“Is open. Hurry. Before it closes.”

Gavriel and Vi shot a glance towards the stone overhead and stepped quickly across the threshold. As soon as they cleared the doorway, the stone crashed down. Dhurka squawked in surprise.

“Open lever disappeared! No way back!”

“That’s actually a good thing, I should think.” Gavriel’s voice held tightly to a reassuring tone. “We want to go forward, after all.”

“Do you have any doubles running around this level, Gav?”

The sorcerer crossed his eyes briefly before shaking his head.

“I don’t think so. They could have been destroyed, or run into a spelltrap or any number of things. We’re on our own on this one.”

“Right. So, let’s get going.” Vi flipped her swordswoman’s braid over her shoulder and patted it, absently.

“Uh, which way we go?” Dhurka pointed.

The trio was in a small antechamber like room. To the left was a white arch. To the right, a black. The wall across from them was featureless stone. Vi scowled.

“Great. More ches-playing. Well, I say we go left, take the white arch.”

“Wait.” Gavriel stepped up to the blank wall across from them. “I think there’s something here.”

“Looks blank to me.”

“One moment.”

The sorcerer closed his eyes and placed his right hand on the stone. He moved his fingers slowly, as if tracing an unseen pattern. His eyes flew open.

“There’s something here.”

“Of course there is!” Vi threw up her arms. “Why wouldn’t there be? Hidden riddles, games, wizarding idiocy. Well, what is it?”

“It’s some sort of writing or pictogram. There’s an illusion covering it.”

“Dispel it.”

“I tried. It didn’t work. I’m guessing that is against the rules.”

“How about I try smashing it, then?”

“How will that help?”

“It’ll make me feel better,” Vi growled.

Gavriel’s hands paused their exploration. Vi stepped forward.

“What is it? Did you find something?”

“It’s a maze.”

“On the wall?”

“The whole level. There’s a sigil on the wall, it’s, nevermind, it’s wizard stuff.”

“Oh, what, you think I’m not smart enough to understand wizard stuff?” Vi bristled.

“No.” Gavriel rolled his eyes. “But it’s boring me, so it’s deadshot sure to bore you. Come on. We have to pick a door and navigate the maze.”

“Can we—”

“No. That would be cheating.”

“But—”

“Cheat and we have to start over, with a handicap.”

“What about—”

“That’s cheating too.”

“Or—”

“No.”

“What if—”

“Pick a gorram door, Vi!”

“I already did.”

“Oh. Right.”

Gavriel shook his head and turned to stride through the white arch. Exchanging a glance, Vi and Dhurka followed.

***

Leigh, Drang and Glag limped down the corridor. Drang was dragging the head of some large, reptilian creature. The barbarian was whistling cheerfully.

“Will you stop that?” The snarl on Leigh’s face would have done a cougar proud. “Can’t you see that we’re lost?”

“So? We’ll get attacked, and then we’ll be found.”

Drang’s logic was impeccable, on some level. Leigh let out a sob and continued walking. Glag snickered and tagged along behind, eyes bright and ever watching.

***

The white arch deposited them in a white tunnel, perfectly square along ceiling and walls. It ran in a straight line in either direction. There was no sign of the archway. Gavriel paused to examine their surroundings. One hand reached out to gently caress the walls.

The alabaster stone seemed to ripple as his fingers touched it. It was as if a curtain drew itself from the walls. A fantastic mural, done in shades of silver, was revealed by the retreat of the illusion.

“Is creation of the world,” Dhurka breathed.

Gavriel looked closely at the wall. Vi chose to polish her sword with a spare scrap of rag. The metal positively gleamed in the white light. The sword had been sulking ever since it had lost the ability to inhabit a body, even a fake one.

“It looks like a creation story, yes,” Gavriel said slowly, “but I suspect it’s the creation of this place, rather than the creation of the world.”

Vi looked over. She stowed the sword and drew nearer to the wall. Upon closer examination, she reached out and tapped a sweep of mountainside with an expertly manicured nail.

“I think you’re right. I recognize this peak. It’s taller and more rugged, but it has the same odd hitch about a third of the way down. We camped not far from there on our way here.”

“Indeed,” Gavriel nodded and pointed to a small figure depicted in particoloured robes. “This, then, is probably the wizard responsible.”

“How far does this go?” Vi glanced down the corridor, following the mural with her eyes.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Gavriel began to pace alongside the wall, tracing the progress of the story as he went.

Vi and Dhurka followed. The mural panned back, revealing scenes from a long journey, trails which seemed to play in reverse, until they reached a juncture in the maze. The tunnel they were in crossed a second at perfectly right angles.

The new tunnel was black. Where the two crossed, the floor looked like four arrows flying into one another, two white and two black touching point to point in alternating sequence of color.

There were murals adorning the walls of the black tunnels as well, done in shades of gold. Gavriel paused to examine the murals as they progressed down each passageway. Dhurka ran from one to another, exclaiming in a mix of disrespect, reverence, delight and disgust. Vi stood in the original hallway and kept watch. Never knew when the damned walls would move in these accursed mage-mazes.

“Well,” she called, “which way do we go?”

“This way,” came the reply.

“Why?”

“The murals tell a story. We landed in a bit near the beginning, but we’ve been progressing backwards towards the origin. If we want to get through the maze quickly, we should pick up the thread of the story later and follow it to the conclusion, which, logically, should be the way out.”

“That way it is, then.”

***

The Black Pawn hissed in annoyance. This was getting them nowhere. Aimless wandering was not going to help her agenda at all. She needed to do something to move things along. So, when the opportunity presented itself, she fell through the wall.

“Glag!” Drang lunged after her.

He tripped and fell through the wall. Glag snickered inwardly. The shortcut should make up for some lost time. She had to get back to Dhurka. Plans were in motion and she would need her aid.

***

“But?”

The murals on the walls flowed and shifted as they walked. Black to white, white to black, scenes of bloodshed and death interposed with scenes of excavation and creation. Vi paused to examine a particularly bloody scene.

“That’s this labyrinth,” she whispered. “Keep your eyes out, I don’t fancy running in to that.”

Gavriel nodded in agreement, and they continued, albeit a bit more cautiously. Slowly, bits of the story began to come together. Never a complete narrative, but with enough solidity to tell parts of the story.

A wizard of some power created this place as his personal refuge and haven. He was probably a bit paranoid, as some wizards tend to get as they grow older. He guarded his privacy with traps and puzzles, and summoned the greatest adventurers and ches-players in the world to challenge him. Most of them died.

“As far as I can tell, this place is at least contemporary with the Sulveran Empire, if not earlier,” Gavriel noted.

“That explains a lot,” Vi muttered.

Other scenes went into more detail about those who dared to venture near, invited or no. Deaths on all levels, goblins swarming, ches-pieces coming to life, puzzles and traps, monsters and blood in all shades of silver and gold.

“Look at this.” Vi’s voice cracked roughly though the silence around them.

Gavriel shot her a dark glance, but moved to investigate anyway. Dhurka scurried after him, shooting a nervous glance over her shoulder as she went. The sorcerer stopped in his tracks when he neared the wall. A disbelieving hand reached out to lightly touch the stone.

“Is that…”

“I think it is,” Vi replied grimly.

“Amazing,” Gavriel breathed.

“Valeral!” Dhurka squealed.

On the wall, the picture of Valeral stood with hand outstretched, while the monster attacking Leibrev slowly turned to stone.

***

Valeral and Leibrev stared across the ring at the opposing pair of gladiators.

“I told you it was a trap,” Leibrev murmured.

“I know,” Valeral replied, “but I still think that the alternative would have been worse.”

Conversation vanished as steel sang and spells spat.

***

“They landed here,” Vi gestured. “It looks like they managed to figure out the same thing we did. They seem to be making progress, at least.”

“It cuts off before they escape.”

“We’re at a juncture. It always skips at a juncture.”

“So we follow the story.”

“It cuts back.”

“What?”

“It changes focus.”

“How so?”

Vi just pointed to section of mural just around the corner divide. Gavriel craned his neck and examined the wall. He blinked.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s us.”

“Is it really? I had no idea!”

“Stow the sarcasm, swordlady.”

“As you wish, O mighty wizard.”

Gavriel ignored his partner. Instead of replying, he turned the corner and stepped into the tunnel featuring their story. They all walked a bit more slowly.

“They must have passed this level by now,” Vi mused.

“Because they were here, when we were playing with the goblins above.”

“And they seem to have figured out how to navigate this place at least as quickly as we did.”

“There’s still a chance we might catch them.”

“I doubt it. I know my nephew.”

Gavriel nodded. He paused to look a bit more closely at a section of the mural.

“The shadow-puppets worked out well,” he noted.

“Look look, come quick,” Dhurka called from further down the tunnel. Gavriel and Vi turned, hurrying towards her. Dhurka watched them out of the corner of her eye as they passed the section of the mural that revealed her part in the death of the goblin king from the level above. The duo did not pause, however. The gobliness grinned up at them and pointed at the mural.

“Is Valeral and Leibrev.”

The two youths were depicted passing out of the maze. Vi and Gavriel immediately began a minute examination of the area.

“They made it out, at least.”

“Any clue as to how, or where?”

“We can’t be that far away.”

“You never know, some of those older panels featured trapdoors and hidden passages.”

“Not helping. So not helping.”

“Sorry.”

“Just, keep looking for clues.”

“Here,” Gavriel leaned in close, “I think this sigil signifies some sort of key.”

“Where would they get a key?”

“I have no idea. A random chest somewhere?”

“Gav,” Vi glared at him, “why in the nine hells would someone leave a random key to the maze in a random chest?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“Wizards. Idiots, the lot.”

“On the other hand, it could be a symbolic representation.”

“Meaning?”

“They might have found some way to make the maze work for them beyond what we have figured out. Or they found a hidden catch to open the door. That’s the problem with symbols,” the sorcerer commented drily, “they could mean any of a number of things.”

“Wonderful. Does that even tell us anything?”

“It tells us that the boys are out there, and there is definitely a way out. That’s more than we knew before.”

“Yes, but where do we go from here?”

“There can’t be that much more mural ahead. The end should be nigh.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“No help for it.” Gavriel shrugged.

“Fine,” Vi sighed, “onward and downward.”

The group continued down the tunnel. The mural stretched on, detailing their earlier experiences in the maze. Eventually, the mural began to detail their own experience of seeing their earlier experiences in the maze. The recursion doubled. Then it doubled again. Eventually, Gavriel halted.

“This is giving me a headache,” he announced.

“I know what you mean,” Vi said, rubbing her brow. “How deep does that narrative illustration go?”

“I suspect that it will continue as long as we do.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s conveying the story of our journey through this level. I think we’re stuck in some sort of loop.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s conveying the story of our journey through this level. I think we’re stuck in some sort of loop.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s conveying the story of our journey through this level. I think we’re stuck in some sort of—”

“Stop it!”

Gavriel’s jaw snapped closed. Vi rubbed her temples gently. Dhurka just looked from one to the other.

“How we get out?”

“How did we get in? What was different? Where did the trap begin?”

“Does it matter?”

“Beginning, ending, it’s all the same thing, in a loop,” Gavriel explained.

“So we find where we got in, we find the way out.”

“That or we just break out way out.”

“I’d prefer that.” Vi grinned.

“What do we know?”

“Uh, ches, dungeon, idiot-wizard, magic mural, recursive loop trap, stop me if any of this rings any bells.”

“Ches.” Gavriel blinked. “We’re still playing ches.”

The sorcerer pulled out a piece of chalk. Hiking up his robes, he knelt down and began to sketch out a series of interconnected sigils on the ground.

“What that?” Dhurka looked up at Vi.

“I have no idea.” The swordswoman shook her head. “Probably some mad idea or other.”

Gavriel worked quickly. As he worked, loops and lines came together to form a larger picture. Dhurka quirked her head at it.

“Is king-sign,” she squeaked. “What you do with king-sign? Only king use king-sign.”

Gavriel continued to chalk out lines and curves. Vi prodded him with her boot toe.

“Hey, Von Gucci, she asked you a question.”

“Hang on,” the sorcerer’s hands flew across the stone floor.

Moments later he stood, his work completed. Gavriel stowed the chalk and dusted his hands. Chalk dust flew all over his robe. The sorcerer glowered.

“When will someone invent chalk that doesn’t do that?” he spat.

“What about—”

Gavriel silenced Vi with a single finger. The others danced through a split-second cantrip that instantly dry-cleaned his robe. Then he idly buffed his nails and glanced to Vi.

“You were saying?”

“What,” the swordswoman growled, “is that?”

“Our ticket out of here.”

“And how does it work?”

“I should have thought of it earlier, actually. It has to do with how the ches-pieces move across the board, and which moves are legal in which circumstances—”

“Less talk, more walk! Just get us out of here. But so help me, if you blow us up again, I will—”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll—” The swordswoman leaned in and whispered something into the sorcerer’s ear.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Gavriel gasped.

“Try me, pretty boy. Now, are you going to make with the spellwork, or am I—”

Gavriel stomped on the sigil and the whole thing blazed to life. There was a surge of vertigo and suddenly the feeling of just being elsewhere pervaded the air around them. When the dizziness cleared, the murals were gone, the maze was gone. Pretty much everything was gone.

“Where, where are we?” Vi steadied herself against the wall.

“You know,” Gavriel glanced around, “I have no idea. Out, at least. Not where I expected to be, though.”

“And where, pray tell, were we supposed to be?”

“That should have taken us directly to the lowest level. I suppose we ran into some security interference.”

“So where are we?” Vi practically bit the words off.

“We in box.” Dhurka had been scampering around in the darkness. “No way in or out. We trapped!”

“There’s always a way out,” Gavriel assured her. “We just have to find it.”

The sorcerer whispered a spell, granting them sight in the darkness. Then he folded his legs beneath him and sat on the floor. Vi groaned and slumped along the wall to sit as well. Dhurka stood.

You know, I have a thought.

“What?” Vi’s head rose.

I think I might be able to find the way out.

“Really? How?”

By the Power of Justice!

To Be Continued…

There was no movement. The cavern was dark, still and silent. Even the sword was speechless. Gavriel, Vi and Dhurka stood motionless in the darkness, as still as statues. Well, statues of the non-animated, non-ches-playing variety.
Gavriel’s head turned, a jerky, stiff motion. His jaw worked soundlessly for a few moments before words managed to claw their way out.

“This…level…dangerous. Must…move…one…another.”

Vi suddenly shuddered and shook herself sensually. Eyes gleaming, the first thing she did was to stroke the sword in her hand.

“Oh my, I look good.”

Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her throat. A delighted laugh burst from her lips and rolled through the cavern. Answering shimmers of sound echoed back and several faery-lights gleamed into being.

The cavern was simple and utilitarian. Pillars grew up in strangely orderly rows, and alternated black with white. Vi glanced around, drinking in her surroundings.

The sword in her hand, by contrast, gave the impression of extreme affront.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Dhurka suddenly gasped. After taking several deep breaths, her own scaly hands caught her attention. The resultant shriek of outrage nearly shook several stalactites free from their moorings.

“Swordlady’s tits! What the hell is going on?”

“Traded.” Gavriel worked his jaw. “Is rule of this place. Only way is to play. Here, play as other.”

“We can’t control our own bodies? Again? What is with you wizards? Is ‘control freak’ in the job description?”

Don’t look at me! I didn’t design this place. Gods know if I had, I’d’ve gone with something other than ‘basic black and white’ for the décor.

“Thank the gods for small miracles,” Dhurka hissed.

Hey! What is that supposed to mean?

“I don’t know, smart guy. You tell me. Taking this option out was your idea, wasn’t it?”

And I stand by my decision.

“Stand? That’s rich, coming from a legless hunk of tin!”

“I beg your pardon,” Vi cut in. “I must protest! I am not a hunk of tin. Such accusations are both unladylike and unjust, and have no place in polite discussion.”

“Give me my body back,” Dhurka hissed at Vi.

You think you want your body back? Honey, get in line.

“I’ve missed having eyes the most,” Vi murmured wistfully, still looking around her.

Hands. I miss my hands,

“Well, I can’t say that’s a surprise,” Dhurka snapped. “Given how often you—”

I’ll thank you to leave my spellcasting out of this.

The swordblade frosted over, slightly. Dhurka snorted. A little gobbet of green snot shot out of her nose. She pretended not to notice.

“Oh, yeah, like I was talking about your spellcasting.”

“Focus!” Gavriel snarled. “Stupid humans and talking sword must focus. Great danger here.”

“Fine,” Dhurka said sarcastically, “let’s get out of here then.”

She turned slightly and began to stalk off towards the pillars. Gavriel involuntarily took a step after her. As soon as he did, a string of curses burst from his mouth.

“Stupid human! Wait. No turning or turning back. Now we stuck.”

Dhurka froze.

“Excuse me?”

“Can only move forward. Once gone forward, cannot go back.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Kid? No. No kid. Dead serious. Look.”

Gavriel pointed to the space directly in front of Dhurka. She turned. A tall white pillar stood in front of her, blocking her forward progress. Dhurka tried to step around. Her feet remained frozen to the floor. Gavriel sighed.

“Is no use. You moved. It intercept. You stuck.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I tried! You never shut up! Stupid human is stupid.”

Ladies, ladies. Calm down. We can get out of this. All we have to do is—what are you doing? No, no, bad idea, stop…

Vi had taken the full length of her hair in hand. With one decisive motion, she raised the sword and sliced through it, shearing it off short. The razor sharp blade slid through easily. Casually, she opened her hand and let the severed braid fall to the floor. It landed and a sense of doom surged through the cavern like the ringing of a gong.

“That’s better.” Vi shook her head. “Long hair is so inappropriate on a swordswoman. Where’s my dagger? I need to get the rest.”

For a moment, no one moved.

“You. Cut. My. Hair.”

The words ground out of Dhurka with all the speed, force and inexorable determination of a glacier. The gobliness was frozen to the ground, unable to move, but her every look was a promise of death. Vi’s eyes widened and she took a step back.

“No! Stupid sword.” Gavriel burst out.

What a fabulous time to be without a means of self-locomotion.

A pillar of white stone appeared behind Vi. She backed right into it. The swordswoman turned, surprised. The pillar stared back, expressionless stone.

Hey, Dhurka, or me, or…whatever. How long until the pillars change into something that attacks us?

“Pillars no change. Goblins come. Is goblin home, this level. I hate this level. All goblins hate this level. But goblins hate Dhurka too. They going to kill Dhurka.” Gavriel’s voice was sad.

Wait. Kill which Dhurka? The body with Vi in it, or Gavriel’s body, I mean, my body?

“Both,” Gavriel replied glumly.

“Let them come,” Dhurka hissed.

Shut up, Vi.

“Make me, swordboy.”

How’d you like me to help her shave your head?

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Try me.

“Hsst!” Gavriel’s hand shot up. “They come.”

“Let them.” Vi adjusted her grip on the sword, eyes gleaming. “Bloody, glorious battle! It has been too long.”

What? No! Oh hells no! You are so not using me to–

***

Leibrev’s sword drove straight through the creature’s eye, killing it instantly. It shuddered and sloughed off the blade. Leibrev made a slight moue of disgust and stepped back from the rapidly decomposing mass.

Valeral dusted the last of the enchantment from his fingers and stepped up next to his partner.

“Nice thrust,” he murmured.

“It was rather good, wasn’t it?” Leibrev grinned.

“Oh ho,” Valeral forced a laugh, “aren’t we full of ourselves. You would have been mincemeat if it wasn’t for me.”

“Hrm, I suppose I can give you half the credit. You were rather spellbinding.”

Leibrev reached over and rapped his knuckles against a statue of smooth gray stone. The monster was rampant, frozen by Valeral’s sorcery in the instant it had lunged for Leibrev’s back.

The duo laughed and continued deeper into the dungeon.

***

A skritching sound crept through the cavern. It was an all too familiar experience. Dhurka patted herself down, looking for a weapon.

“I don’t have a weapon,” she growled.

What do you expect? You’re the one that searched that body and took away anything remotely resembling an implement of war, violence or teeth-cleaning.

“Spellcast me one.”

I can’t! No hands.

Dhurka groaned. Gavriel began to fold into himself, trying to become as small as possible. Vi’s eyes glowed. She was smiling with unmitigated delight.

“At last, after all these years, to have a body again, to face a worthy foe without foul enchantment or entangling sorcery. It will be glorious. For Duty, for Deity and for Justice!”

Oh, you are so not using me to bust skulls and skewer goblins! That is disgusting beyond words.

“It will be glorious.”

Bytche, I will cut you. So help me, if I have to spill blood, I’m taking yours as an advance payment.

“That is a drawback to being flesh I had not considered.”

“So what do we do?” Dhurka demanded. “We can’t just stand here and get swarmed.”

“They cannot attack head-on,” Gavriel offered.

“They can’t?” Dhurka pounced on that.

“But neither can you.” Gavriel sank back into himself.

Dhurka hissed and slammed her fist into the stone pillar in front of her. Gavriel winced and rubbed his knuckles.

“Stop abusing my body, stupid human,” he muttered.

A white goblin ran screaming out of the shadows, a shortsword clutched in its dirty claws. It charged forward in a straight line, then leapt diagonally towards Dhurka. She howled with glee and tore into him, tooth and nail. In the end, even with the sword, he didn’t stand a chance. Dhurka snapped his neck and claimed his sword.

“That’s better,” she growled.

Gavriel looked away. He seemed faintly green around the gills. Vi was wrestling with her sword. It had somehow figured out how to remain perfectly transfixed in midair.

“This is most unjust! Move! I may have need of thee.”

The sword maintained a steadfast silence. Another goblin darted out of the shadows, this time headed for Gavriel. The sorcerer grabbed his head in pain and shouted. Vi stumbled as the sword freed itself from immobility. The goblin got a faceful of dark fire. Gavriel stared at the little black body in shock.

Take better care of my body, Dhurka!

“How did you do that?” Vi demanded.

The sword did not respond. It had gone immobile again. Vi sighed heavily and tugged at the sword.

“Stubborn…” she muttered.

Another goblin charged towards Dhurka. She faced it down, teeth bared in a vicious grin. It ran directly towards…and stopped right in front of her. She howled with glee and swung her sword at its face. The sword moved in the air, sweeping diagonally away each time she swung it. The goblin grinned and stuck out its tongue at her.

“What in the nine hells is wrong with this place?” she screamed.

The goblin laughed in her face. Gavriel degreenified slightly.

“All motion is forward, but no head on attacks. Only way is to play. Rules is rules.”

“These rules are incredibly stupid.”

Dhurka spat at the goblin in front of her. Even the spittle veered away from its intended target. The goblin stared at her and began to quite obviously pick its nose. Dhurka turned a very unhealthy shade of purple.

Cracked, roiling laughter crashed and surged around them. A figure slowly materialized out of the shadows, hanging in thin air about thirty feet away. A heavy cowl cast his features into impenetrable shadow, but he seemed to be composed of mismatched limbs, all long and spindly. Gleaming strings trailed from boney fingers, more than could be counted. Each one terminated at the base of a goblin’s skull. Dozens, perhaps hundreds half-stepped out of the surrounding darkness.

“Welcome home, Dhurka. We’ve missed you.”

As one, the massed goblins hissed with laughter, providing an eerie counterpoint to the mad cackle of the puppetmaster floating above.

Gavriel gulped.

***

The White Pawn watched, a bit nervously. Hundreds of black pawns swarmed the cavern. It wouldn’t do to draw any more attention than was strictly necessary. That would be counter-productive. A larger goal was at stake here.

***

No one moved. The puppetmaster appeared to be in no hurry to go in for the kill. Rather, he spoke to Dhurka with obvious delight.

“I see you’ve found some puppets of your own,” the figure continued. “Very impressive. Do you think you can challenge me? Take my place?”

“Who want your place?” Gavriel spat off and to the side.

“Everyone. There is not one of these, my puppets below, that wouldn’t trade its soul to rip out my heart and take my place.”

“Stupid goblins are stupid,” Gavriel hissed.

“You know, Dhurka,” the figure’s tone was suddenly very warm, very welcoming, “you could still come back. I have your string right here.”

A silvery thread materialized out of the shadows, draped somewhat forlornly over the puppetmaster’s right index finger. The figure shifted.

“You could come home again,” it entreated.

“Never,” Gavriel whispered.

“Then I’m afraid you and your puppets will have to die.”

The amassed goblins shifted, as one. The sound of all those feet moving in unison reverberated throughout the cavern. The pillars almost seemed to flow, like trees in a strong wind. Gavriel shouted.

Dark fire leapt from his lips and sped towards the puppetmaster. Boney fingers jerked reflexively and a goblin threw itself howling in front of its master. It died, twitching, in midair. The silver stand snapped and recoiled, leaving the body to thump to the ground in a small, still little heap.

“Well,” the puppetmaster breathed, “that was unexpected. You’ve learned a new trick, Dhurka. Your control is very impressive. Where did you find the sorcerer, I wonder.”

Gavriel shouted again. And again. And again. Dark fire blossomed from his lips. Another goblin died. Then another and another. The living masses stepped over the fallen, obscuring the bodies. They showed no signs of lessening.

“Very impressive.” The puppetmaster laughed. “But why not use some of your other toys, hmm? Or are you trying? That one seems to be twitching. Perhaps you haven’t figured out how to manage more than one at a time.”

The figure pointed to Vi, still tugging in vain at the sword.

“Come free,” she howled. “There are foes to be slain! In the name of all that is Just, just move.”

“Oh my.” The puppetmaster laughed. “Is that really the best you can do?”

“Actually, we can do you one better,” a cool voice slid from the shadows near the puppetmaster’s head.

The scene froze. Vi, speaking with her own voice, from her own body, hovered next to the puppetmaster on wings of shadow. The sword Neniel gleamed against the dark cloth of the Puppetmaster’s robes. The goblin hordes lost animation, frozen in time, unable to move or think of their own volition.

Gavriel and Dhurka faded into view on either side of the swordswoman. Trailing strands of shadow flowed from Gavriel’s fingertips to the figures facing down the horde of goblins. He twitched his left pinkie and the puppet Vi struck a sexy pose. It blew a kiss up toward the hanging forms above.

“Shadow-rune-hairballs,” Vi said smugly. “Who knew you could spin perfect doppelgangers out of a single strand of hair and a patch of darkness? I guess you’re not the only guy in town with his own personal puppetshow.”

“Interesting,” the puppetmaster whispered. “Very interesting.”

“I think it’s time you showed us the way to the lower level,” the swordswoman said sweetly. “That is, unless you want me to carve you a shiny new smile.”

“No need for that. I’ll show you the way to the next level. It’s right over there, actually.”

A thin boney finger pointed to an unremarkable stone pillar. Gavriel glanced at it. Vi loosed a predatory grin.

“And what do we do next?”

“Next? I expect next, you die.” The puppet master burst out laughing and dissolved into string and shadow. The pillar began to melt and flow like wax, sinking down and dissolving to reveal a featureless hole. A tall, thin goblin hovered in midair, a set of sable strings flowing from his fingers.

“Fools,” he cackled, “fools all to think to play the Puppetmaster and win. You have no idea what you’re up against!”

The party floated in midair, struck motionless and speechless. The horde of goblins howled and swarmed upwards, scaling the pillars that filled the room. The mad goblin puppetmaster cackled with glee as spell and sword rose to meet tooth and nail. Flashes of darkness and streaks of white light filled the air and the cavern was drowned in blood and battle. It was perfect, pitched chaos.

In the confusion, three figures darted from concealment, past the fracas and through the exit. They paused once safely through.

“He has no idea we slipped past him, does he?” Vi smiled from the shadows, hidden in the hole.

“None whatsoever,” Gavriel murmured back. “Although it was a bit of a close thing, with so many goblins, the hidden agenda, and the exit only appearing there at the end. Still, we managed to slip though at just the right moment, there at the end.” The sorcerer shifted slightly to get a better view.

“I suppose we can stop playing now,” Vi said almost regretfully. She shook several black strands from her fingers. Above, the puppets she had been controlling slipped into the slack-jawed motions of automatons.

Gavriel did likewise and the two turned to examine the tunnel ahead.

Dhurka clung tightly to the rough stone of the tunnel, looking up with wide eyes.

“I have to admit, I didn’t think your plan would work,” Vi whispered. “But it did. Well done.”

“Well, Dhurka was a very great help. Thank you, Dhurka. I couldn’t have read so many moves ahead without you.”
“Dhurka just glad we slipped by when hole appeared. Lucky could still move.”

“More strategy than luck, but yes. Strange rules, in this place. Very strange.”

“At least you know how all the bloody ches-pieces move,” Vi groused. “Never thought knowing the stupid game would be requisite life knowledge.”

“Just goes to show, you know really know what life will throw at you.” Gavriel twitched his fingers one last time before loosing the doubled shadows. They’d run on auto-pilot for a good while.

“Time to go deeper.”

Gavriel began to descend deeper into the darkness. Vi nodded. She loosed her threads and followed. Dhurka watched them go for a moment. She toyed with the shadow-string still in her hands. She looked upwards once more. Her eyes narrowed and she yanked the string once, viciously.

Somewhere amidst the battle and bloodshed and chaos above, one puppet moved with quick, sure movements, guided by an expert hand. The Goblin King was lost in his own mad ecstasy as his foes were torn to shreds before him. He never saw his death slinking through the shadows.

There was a scream from above and a small shower of blood rained down. Dhurka turned her face upwards to catch it. It was warm on her face. She ran her tongue over her lips and savored the bitter taste.

“Exile is hell, old man, and so is payback” she whispered. “Your turn is over. Time to let someone else play at being king of the pawns.”

With that, the gobliness sank into the darkness, following Gavriel and Vi.

***

A piece on the board shattered. A hiss of displeasure leaked from the shadows. It was a loss. His first loss. It stung. No matter. That piece was easily replaced. His opponent’s pieces had already quit the board.

The figure reached out and advanced a black pawn at random. As soon as it touched the King’s Square, it morphed into the relevant piece. Small matter.

Hot eyes turned to the active gameboards. The game was quickening. Strategy must become commensurately ruthless. The Grandmaster chuckled and set once more to moving pieces across the boards of the dungeon.

To Be Continued…

Gavriel and Vi stared at the sword.

What? What is it? Do I have a rust spot?

The sword sounded anxious. Most swords did not sound anxious. Most swords did not sound anything other than, well, steely. Then again, most swords did not speak.

Vi found her voice first.

“Ah, no, no rust spot. It’s just…”

What?

“You’re rather…unusual,” Gavriel ventured. “A sentient sword is, well, it’s something we have never before encountered, and we—”

“We live in Vyne,” Vi exploded. “We live in the mightiest city on life and no one there ever speaks of talking swords. I’ve never seen one for sale—”

“And you can buy anything in Vyne. Anything. Why, you—”

Gavriel and Vi locked eyes.

I am NOT for sale! I am the Blade of Justice! I have chosen my wielder and nevermore shall I be parted from her.

“Excuse me?” Vi gave the blade a look. “What precisely do you mean by that?”

I was awoken by battle, wielded in the hand of a mighty swordswoman fighting for Justice! Do you have any idea what that feels like? The enchanted kiss of a prince upon his beloved’s lips is no more sweet or welcome, nor the lips of a princess upon those of a cruelly enchanted fro—

“We are more than familiar with frogs and kisses and princes and the like,” Gavriel recalled, sourly.

Then, you know. You know the glory. You know the beauty. You know the true meaning and worth of fighting for Justice in this sad and darkening world. You—

“Are standing around when you should be trying to rescue my son,” Leigh snapped. The sorceress appeared in a flash of light. Drang was standing next to her, looking slightly queasy.

“I wish she wouldn’t do that,” he muttered.

“Where is he,” Leigh demanded. “Where is my son?”

Twin clumps of dust, one black and one white, plummeted from the ceiling to land on the tiles nearby. The little things coughed and rolled and eventually revealed the goblinesses Dhurka and Glag. They coughed and stood up.

“Where is Leibrev?” Glag demanded.

“And Valeral? Where is Valeral?” Dhurka chimed in.

“Yes, Vi,” Leigh turned cold eyes to the swordswoman, “where is my son? I won’t ask you again.”

“My nephew,” Vi said pointedly, “and your son went thataway.”

She gestured towards the hole in the floor with her sword. It squawked in protest. The goblins started and looked around, trying to place the voice. Eventually, they traced it back to the sword. It was being rather testy.

I am not an achademe’s pointer. Please. Show some respect!

Leigh’s mouth was open in anticipation of protest. She shut it with a snap when the sword spoke. She turned to smile a bit too sweetly at Vi.

“Vi, darling, what is that?”

“Leigh, honey, it’s called a sword. I should think you of all people would know that. After all, don’t all of your paramours carry them?”

The goblins stared at the sword with wide eyes. Leigh pointedly avoided looking directly at the weapon.

“I know it’s a sword, what I meant was—”

“Why is it talking?” Gavriel slid into the conversation effortlessly. “We have no idea. However, I have a few theories…”

The two mages quickly lost themselves in a swirl of esoteric and highly obscure language. Drang simply stared at the sword, the heavy gaze of a highly-critical expert. Absently, he reached up to caress the hilt of his own sword. It was a curious gesture of reassurance.

“So, it talks. That has to be a pain.”

Who is this, this…barbarian?

“His name is Drang. Drang, meet…ah, do you have a name?” Vi looked slightly askance at the sword.

I am Neniel, Sword of Justice. Honor to thy house.

Somehow, the sword managed to give the impression that it was bowing. It was somewhat disconcerting, given that a sword was, by and large, an incredibly inflexible and unyielding object.

“Uh, yeah. Honor to your forge, and whatnot.” Drang nodded. “This is Gore.” The barbarian unsheathed his sword and presented it proudly. “Well, his official name is Gore Vydelicet, but I just call him Gore.”

“And those two,” Vi gestured with her free hand this time, “are Gavriel and Leigh. Sorcerer of Shadow and Sorceress of Light. All connotations regarding good or evil are strictly coincidental and entirely misleading.”

The aforementioned duo ignored Vi and continued arguing about some obscure point of magical theory. Vi’s grip tightened around the hilt of her new sword.

“Excuse me, Gav? Gav!”

“What?”

“Shouldn’t we be headed after Valeral and Leibrev?”

“My baby!” Leigh shrieked and clapped her hand to her cheek in distress. “We have to save my baby!”

She darted for the hole. Drang grinned and followed, relief evident in his every feature. Gavriel blinked.

“Don’t—”

Leigh and Drang leapt in. Glag followed, only a moment behind. There was a resounding smack as flesh hit stone. It wasfollowed by a near-simultaneous groan and shout of surprise, as the two over-ready adventurers and one dazed gobliness plunged in only to slam into a stone floor and then ricochet off through a sidelong vortex. What was left was suddenly down, as what was once down now vanished off to their right.

Gavriel gazed down the hole.

“I suspected as much,” he mused. “Well, now we know.”

***

The Acolytes of Black and White, united by circumstance, took full advantage of the distraction fate had afforded them. They had to move quickly if they wished to be in place. They were betraying all sides by acting in concert like this.

“Quickly! Time is of the essence!”

“You did not just say that.”

“I’m actually enjoying myself. Deal with it.”

“I do. Constantly.”

“Shut up and let’s move.”

“After you.”

Feet hit stone and the game raced on apace.

***

“We don’t know what’s down there, Vi.” Gavriel objected.

“No, we don’t know. Does that change the fact that we still have to go down that way?”

“Well, no, but—”

Whatever Gavriel’s observation might have been, it was lost as Vi grabbed him and jumped them both bodily into the hole. Dhurka followed, protesting half-heartedly. They landed expecting the bottom, and fell into the swirling vortex with as much aplomb as could be expected under the circumstances.

White and black swirled and span but never mixed. It was some sort of formless space between, where there was no time or distance, but which gave the impression of transference nonetheless. Leigh and Drang were spinning head over heels and bickering with one another.

“Is this a trap?” Vi looked over to Gavriel.

The sorcerer floated nonchalantly in mid-nothingness.

“I don’t think so. I expect we’re just waiting for an exit to align with the set-spell. Whomever is playing against us wouldn’t make it too easy to follow Valeral and Leibrev. Although, on the plus side, he does seem to be playing by some sort of rules, so there will have to be a way to get to them. We just have to find it.”

“Thank you, that’s very comforting,” Vi snarled sarcastically. “What are we supposed to do until then?”

“Relax?” Gavriel was toying with his hair. Absently he plucked out a strand and began to weave it together with several strands of shadow into an odd little runic knot. His eyes flicked briefly over to Leigh and Drang, still arguing.

“My nephew is lost,” Vi snarled, “so pardon me if I do not quite feel like relaxing right now.”

Indeed! We must rescue the puir youth.

“We need to wait,” Gavriel said firmly. “We’re at a disadvantage, and we have an opportunity here.”

The sorcerer flicked his little creation and sent it spinning towards Leigh and Drang. It hooked onto the edge of Leigh’s cloak and hid itself in her shadow. He pulled several golden strands of hair from a small pouch and began to weave more shadow-rune-hairballs.

“We’re in a state of flux,” he continued, “everywhere and nowhere. Pretty soon, a portal will open. Those two will go through it, but we’ll wait. Let it close.”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Gavriel flicked another of his creations Leighward, “if we go out that portal, we’ll be stuck with Leigh and Drang in one of the nastiest little traps in this whole dungeon.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s what I would do. If you think about it—”

“I’d do the same thing. Alright. So we wait. Do we take the next portal, then?”

“No. We’re playing at a disadvantage. We need to put some pieces in play.” Gavriel held up one of his fuzzy creations. He nodded, satisfied, and stowed this one along the edge of his own cloak.

“And how is that going to help us?”

Foul sorcery…

The sword seemed to mutter. Its voice was still clearly audible, but only just. Gavriel pointedly ignored it.

“We need eyes and ears and hands. Let the portal cycle. Only seconds, if that, are passing outside.”

“How do you—”

“Anything else would be too great a strain on the resources, and we’re at a disadvantage. No need or benefit to change up the mechanism now. At least, not quite yet. So, we’ll make it work for us. We’ll put some eyes in place.”

Gavriel held up one of his knotty creations and tapped it meaningfully. Vi nodded slowly.

“Then, as the cycle continues, we’ll be able to see where we end up, correct?”

“Correct. Leigh and Drang will pull our opponent’s eyes and attention. We’ll slip out after them and take a slightly easier path to our final destination.”

“I like it.”

“I rather thought you would. Now shut up and pass me a few more of your hairs, I’m running low…”

***

The Black Pawn and the White whispered furiously to one another. Their allies had vanished and now they were isolated, without any other pawns to call upon for aid. The position was far from ideal, yet not untenable.

“We have to follow them.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Shut up. We don’t have a choice. You know what we have to do.”

“Well, yeah, but–”

“But nothing. Let’s go, before they get too far ahead of us.”

***

A grey slit appeared in the whorl of black and white madness. Leigh and Drang miraculously stopped bickering long enough to notice it. They dove for the rift and vanished. Glag swam frantically after them, falling through the rift a split second before it resealed itself. Dhurka floated closer to Gavriel and Vi.

“Why no leave?” she demanded. “Valeral—”

“Will have a better chance of survival if I can finish this before we go. And if you want to help us help him, keep a watch out for those grey rifts. We need to count them.” Gavriel flashed her his second-best smile.

Dhurka looked at him for a long moment. Finally, she nodded and turned her attention to watching. Gavriel flicked a glance at Vi. The swordswoman nodded and kept her own eyes peeled.

“I’m more interested in out new, ah, acquaintance…” Gavriel quirked an eyebrow at Vi’s sword.

In the background, another rift appeared. The sorcerer flicked his fingers at it and then continued his weaving. As each new rift appeared, he flicked his fingers at it. Throughout, he maintained conversational focus on Vi and her sword.

Neniel. My name is Neniel. Ladyblade of Justice.

“So pleased to make your acquaintance, Neniel. I was just wondering, as sentient swords common? We’ve never encountered one before. To us, that alone ensures that you’re unique.” Gavriel smiled.

The sword preened.

It’s good to see that even one so base as to practice the dark arts can recognize the worth of a blade such as myself.

“So there are others like you, out there,” Vi interjected.

Well, yes. At least, there were. I, well, what year is it?

Gavriel and Vi exchanged a glance.

“You don’t know?”

Gavriel sent another of his creations spinning off through a rift. He closed his eyes, briefly, as if resting, while Vicontinued to speak with the sword.

I, why, that’s odd. That date doesn’t make any sense. What year is it by Sulveran reckoning?

“You’re kidding me, right?” Vi stared at the sword. “The Sulveran Empire fell over a thousand years ago.”

Silence.

I…what?

“How could you not know?”

I was…asleep. The sword’s admission seemed faintly guilty. Long periods without a wielder are boring, so, I sleep. I did not realize how long.

Vi was silent for a moment. Her hand toyed with her now-empty scabbard.

“What,” she cleared her throat, “what happened to your last wielder?”

The last thing I remember is a swarm of goblins. There was a dark wizard, a demon-prince and the Sultana’s lost son, it was….apparently a very long time ago.

“I’m sorry. It hurts to lose a sword, I imagine it hurts to lose a wielder. I hadn’t thought about it before.”

I am content to be awake once more. Justice must be served! Evil must be vanquished! We will work together to rid the world of the Scourge of Darkness!

Vi grinned.

“I like you. You’re fun.”

Gavriel rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed.

***

Leigh’s shriek could have leveled a small hamlet. They had dove through the portal straight into a large room filled tp the brim with offal, rotting garbage and other, fouler things. Glag, for her part, scrambled up Drang and clung to his shoulders.

“What, what is this stuff?” Leigh looked more than faintly green.

“’Dunno,” Drang grunted, “but I don’t think that this stuff’s our biggest problem.”

“What could possibly be worse,” Leigh demanded.

The walls shuddered and began to creep inward. Glag yelped as Drang drew his sword.

“As far as I can see, there aren’t any doors.”

***

“If you girls are done talking,” Gavriel interrupted, “I think I’ve figured out our exit strategy.”

Vi wriggled around into what amounted to a standing position in this strange place. Gavriel pointed towards a featureless wash of black and white space.

“We’re going out the rift that will appear there. It should let us bypass the worst of the mazes and the traps, fast-track us straight to the deeper levels.”

“How do we know that’s the right way to go?” Vi protested. “Valeral and Leibrev—”

“Were not there when Leigh and Drang spilled out of their rift. I think this one is our best bet. Whatever it is, it’s obviously trying to draw us deeper in. So, we’ll go deeper in. On our terms. At our pace. We’re far enough up that we won’t get ahead of them, and not so high up that we’ll have to waste our energy on pointless traps and random monsters.”

“Yes.” Dhurka was nodding vigorously. “Wise to ask Dhurka to help. Is best way. Not fastest, but bestest.”

“What is the fastest?” Vi asked, eyeing the gobliness as she ran a thoughtful finger along the edge of her sword. Neniel giggled in their minds.

That tickles!

“Ah,” Dhurka gulped. “Fast way bad. Very sick-making. Hard to find. Guarded too well. At both ends.”

“We can’t get there from here?”

Dhurka shook her head in vehement negation. Gavriel caught Vi’s eye and nodded slightly. There was no good, direct route. Vi let out her breath in an explosive sigh.

“Alright then, let’s go. Unless I’m very much mistaken, our ride is here.”

The grey rift had begun to materialize, tearing itself into the black and white space.

“Just brace yourself. Things might be…a bit disorienting at first. Just remember, concentrate, stay calm, keep focused, and we’ll won’t have any problems. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Ready.”

Once more into the breach! Forward to glory!

Gavriel shot a sour look at the sword.

“Yes. What it said.”

To Be Continued…