Queen's Peril

by Darin Kennedy

  “You intend to transport this entire car?”

  “With the eight of us inside,” Brenin whispered, his voice all but jubilant. “Yes.”

  Kiku, who had stood silently with her eyes closed for so long that Steven had been curious if she remained conscious, opened her eyes and rested a hand on Brenin’s shoulder.

  “We’re getting close, Mr. Brenin.”

  “Excellent.” He turned to the eldest sister. “Sakura, slow the railcar.” With a self-satisfied sigh, he rested a hand on the shoulder of the youngest. “Kiku, bring me the box.”

  “Yes, Mr. Brenin.” Kiku slipped past the door leading to the end of the car Brenin and Sakura shared, returning a moment later with a square box of ebony with arcane sigils carved into the wood on each side.

  “Do you want to do the honors, my dear?” Brenin asked.

  “May I?” Youthful exuberance broke through Kiku’s morose façade. “Really?”

  “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?” He reached into the box and pulled out the Svartr Kyll, the pouch of black leather that held the various icons of Brenin’s side of the Game and sister to the white pouch Steven was destined to receive over a century in the future.

  The image of the Hvitr Kyll resting at the bottom of a duffel bag miles away in a town they’d likely never see again chilled him to the bone.

  “What is that?” Steven asked as the Black King handed the bag of dark leather to Kiku, doing his best to keep any hint of recognition from his face.

  “Our ticket home, Mr. Bauer.” Brenin’s lips turned up in a self-satisfied smile. “In honor of our previous arrangement, I will ensure your safe delivery from this place. After that, your fate and that of your friends is up to you, and any deal between us becomes null and void.”

  “What should we expect?” Niklaus asked, inclining his head in Kiku’s direction. “When she does whatever it is she’s going to do.”

  “Just wait, Mr. Zamek.” Brenin stroked his full beard. “As you have, no doubt, ascertained by this point, my three charges each possess talents beyond that of the average person, a familial trait, if you will.” He gestured to the elder two. “Sakura’s gift revolves around an innate understanding of how things work, and Ume’s, her prodigious physical capabilities notwithstanding, a method of communication that goes beyond words.” He stroked the youngest girl’s hair. “Lastly, Kiku’s gift is an inherent sensitivity to the many pins and folds that hold together the universe, a talent that far outstrips not only my own ability but that of anyone I’ve ever encountered.”

  “We’re here.” Kiku’s voice shifted up an octave, her voice taking on a sing-song, otherworldly quality. “Stop the car and allow me to take us home.”

  And with that, the young girl, not quite a woman, began to dance. Jerky at first, but growing more graceful by the second, Kiku stepped in time with music only she could hear, the pouch held high above her head, her eyes half-closed as if in a trance. Three times around the room she went before falling exhausted to the floor.

  Emilio rushed to her side. “Is she all right?”

  Sakura went to her sister’s side and pulled Kiku’s head onto her lap. “She’ll be fine. Performing the ritual simply takes a lot out of her.”

  With everyone else’s attention focused on Kiku, Steven’s gaze went to the window where the grey sky that had been their reality for weeks transitioned in a flash, replaced with blue skies decorated with wispy white clouds. A random sunbeam poured from between the drawn curtains and fell upon Kiku’s face, illuminating the unconscious girl’s features as if she were an angel glowing from within.

  “It worked.” Steven locked gazes with Brenin. “Where are we?”

  Brenin rose from his chair and went to the door. The characteristic hiss of the steam-lock release was soon followed by the rumbling of tumblers as he pulled the door open onto a beautiful vista of crystal aqua-blue ocean and rugged coastline.

  “Welcome, all of you,” the Black King proudly proclaimed, “to California.”

  24

  Blades & Bullets

  “This is your home?” Emilio spun around, agape at the sheer opulence of the walled compound with its own private stretch of railroad track, the place where the man fated to be their nemesis a century hence apparently hung his hat. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You seem surprised.” Brenin strode toward the three-story mansion painted in alternating tones of rich brown and pale yellow. “Did you expect that I lived in squalor?”

  “No, it’s just—”

  “Take my advice, Mr. Cruz.” Brenin clasped the young man’s shoulder. “Each of us have only so many trips around the sun. Don’t waste any of your time on anything but the best of what this life has to offer.”

  Emilio maintained his smile, but Steven had been around the boy long enough to know all too well what it took out of him not to recoil at the Black King’s touch.

  “Good advice.” Emilio pulled away from Brenin, the move couched in an earnest appraisal of the man’s home. “What business are you in that keeps you in this kind of place?”

  Brenin laughed. “I’m a bit older than I might appear, Mr. Cruz, and have had the good fortune to have invested well over the years. This property represents far from the least of those investments.” He spread his arms wide. “All of this? Mine.”

  “A truly enviable position, Mr. Brenin.” Steven played to the man’s pride. “I suspect we could all learn a thing or two about playing the long game from you.”

  “It’s all simple math when time is on your side, Mr. Bauer. As far back as Archimedes, the concept of exponentiation has been a guiding principle for the most successful among us. In fact, the old story of the grains of rice and the chessboard comes to mind, now that I think of it.”

  As Brenin pontificated ad nauseam on exponential growth, Niklaus whispered in Steven’s ear, his trademark grin in place. “So, Steven, what are the odds Zed and Archimedes were drinking buddies?”

  “Not now, Nik.” Steven tensed. “We’re on the man’s good side at the moment. Let’s keep it that way.”

  Brenin led his makeshift entourage onto his home’s generous porch. Bright white marble stairs inlaid with gold led up to a double door hand-carved top to bottom with scenes from the Far East, the steps guarded on either side by a pair of pawn sculptures two feet high fashioned from a dark stone that shimmered in the afternoon sun.

  Steven hid his smirk. “You certainly have a defined style to your décor.”

  Brenin gave a humble bow. “Chess is life, and as Philidor said a hundred years ago, pawns are the soul of chess.”

  “What sort of stone is this?” Niklaus ran his fingers along the curves of the nearest statue. “Some form of black granite?”

  “No one knows exactly. As legend has it, the original hunk of rock from which these two statues were carved fell from the sky and landed in a lake in the territory known as Tibet many generations ago. Once worshipped as a gift from the gods, I obtained their ‘Fire from Heaven’ during my travels and had a master sculptor prepare these for me.”

  Emilio bristled. “You stole their holy artifact?”

  “You have quite the accusatory tongue, Mr. Cruz.” Brenin let out a quiet sigh. “If you must know, I paid the village elders for the ugly hunk of black rock with a collection of precious stones that would be the envy of any country’s royalty. Not one person in that village will have to be hungry or cold for generations.” He fixed Emilio with an irate glare. “I may demand nothing but the best for myself and my home, but I am no thief.”

  “Take care, Mr. Cruz.” Sakura wrapped an arm around her lover’s waist. “Mr. Brenin is well known for his patience, but even his composure has its limits.”

  “Our apologies.” Archie stepped in front of Emilio. “My young friend has spent the last several months living in a barn and is merely overwhelmed by the splendor of your home.”

  Ume’s hands, clenched into fists at her sides, relaxed as she turned and unlocked the door l
eading into the house. “Please enter, all of you. Mr. Lacan, if you will, help me prepare us all a beverage. Perhaps a nice hot tea?”

  “With pleasure, my dear.” Archie followed Ume inside. “With pleasure.”

  Sakura stepped off the porch and headed back toward the dark railcar. “I will go and power down the Dragon, Victor.”

  “Excellent, my dear.” Brenin kissed her hand. “Join us inside when you are done.”

  Steven couldn’t help but note that despite the clear employer-employee relationship between Brenin and Sakura, a real affection shone in both their gazes, not to mention a clear mutual respect. He’d seen hints of similar interaction between the Black King and his Queen a hundred years hence, but the bond between Zed and Magdalene had nothing on this.

  “So, Mr. Bauer.” Brenin led Steven, Niklaus, and Emilio into an adjoining room. “Now that you no longer have to worry about the suspicions of a backwater sheriff and his toothless friends, what do you foresee as the next step for you and your friends?”

  Steven stroked his chin. “I suppose we head back east.”

  He left the answer open-ended, fearing his eyes might betray an outright lie. They would, indeed, be heading back east at the earliest opportunity, but only to Wolf’s Bend, and then, God knew where. Without a certain white leather bag that currently rested at the bottom of a duffel bag four states away, none of them would ever see their home again, and without their presence at the coming iteration of the Game, everyone and everything they’d ever loved remained in grave danger. He’d hoped that running into Zed might lead to a solution, but here they were, back to square one, a turn of phrase Steven suspected the man before him would find most appealing.

  “In that case,” Brenin said, “you are welcome to spend the evening here at my manor, but tomorrow, Ume will take you to the train station so you may resume your travels and get back to whoever or whatever awaits you on the opposite coast.”

  “That’s very generous, Mr. Brenin, but I believe we’ll—”

  The crack of a gunshot from outside brought the conversation to a screeching halt. Steven’s heart stopped for half a second and even Brenin, the very definition of grace under pressure, appeared shaken.

  Ume returned to the room in an instant. “Mr. Brenin?”

  Brenin’s eyes narrowed at Ume. “Go.”

  Out the door before Brenin finished the word, Ume’s steps remained as silent on the hardwood floor as they’d been on the snow-covered earth of Wolf’s Bend. Steven followed, hot on her heels, with Emilio and Niklaus close behind. The sight that awaited outside Brenin’s palatial home kicked them all in the gut.

  Sakura writhed in agony at the feet of an angry Sheriff Post, a large chunk of her left thigh missing, no doubt a victim of the sheriff’s smoking shotgun. Ume stood in the center of the large yard with no cover to speak of, frozen in place twenty yards from the business end of John Ndure’s six-shooter.

  “No!” Tears streamed down Ume’s face, but she didn’t move an inch as Ndure pulled back the hammer on his gun. “Sakura!”

  “Don’t move.” Ndure drew his other gun and leveled it at Steven. “Any of you.”

  “They must have leaped onto the railcar before it got up to speed,” Niklaus whispered. “What the hell do we do now?”

  “She’s bleeding to death.” Emilio stared at Sakura’s trembling form, his face drawn in terror. Before Steven’s eyes, he reverted to the boy he met a year ago whose brother had been left in an alley to die, yet another victim of gang violence. “Somebody do something.”

  “Sakura!” Kiku cut between Steven and Niklaus and sprinted to her older sister’s side, the only one courageous or foolhardy enough to brave the few yards of grass that separated them. “No!” Dropping to her knees, she threw her body across her sister’s wounded leg. “Sakura…”

  “This could’ve all been avoided.” Post stepped around Sakura’s bleeding form and marched slowly in the direction of the house, keeping Ume in his field of vision at all times. “The circuit judge was just two days out, Mr. Bauer. I’d planned to tell him that while the circumstances surrounding the recent events in Wolf’s Bend all pointed to you and your friends, my gut told me you were innocent.” Step after step, he drew closer. “How we got here to what appears to be the Pacific coast, I have no idea, but to know that you fled with Brenin and his trio of…associates makes me wonder if I was wrong.”

  “If you throw men you believe innocent in jail,” Sakura spat between gritted teeth, “I’d hate to see what you do to those you think are guilty.”

  Post’s eyes flicked in her direction. “You might want to put a bandage on that wound, my dear. And perhaps not be so eager to throw a kick at a man with a shotgun next time.”

  “Sheriff!” Ndure’s word drew Post’s attention. “Watch out—”

  “I’ll kill you.” Kiku threw herself at Post, her long willowy arms beating him about the head and shoulders. “You hurt Sakura.”

  An impassive Post withstood the girl’s blows like an ancient oak being pelted with hail. Right up to the moment, that is, when she drove the heel of her hand into the bottom of his nose. Cursing, he snaked a hand between Kiku’s raised fists, wrapped his fingers around her neck, and hurled the girl to the ground.

  “Careful, girl.” Post wiped the twin streaks of blood from his lips and chin onto the shoulder of his duster. “Unless you want to suffer like your sister.”

  Kiku pulled herself up from the ground. “You’re the one who is going to suffer.”

  “Don’t make me kill you, girl.” Post leveled his shotgun at Kiku’s chest. “I don’t relish the thought of a child’s death on my soul.”

  “Kiku,” Ume whispered, “don’t.”

  “I have to.” Kiku dropped into a low fighting stance. “She’s our sister.”

  “Very well.” Post braced for the recoil of his weapon. “But don’t say I didn’t—”

  “Enough.” Dressed in the full regalia of his position on the chessboard, the Black King stepped between Steven and Niklaus, nudging Emilio out of the way with the hilt of the black-hilted broadsword. “Kiku, Ume, behind me.”

  A wide-eyed Ndure fired his revolver at the man he knew as Victor Brenin, the resulting crack answered immediately with the clang of metal on metal as the King deflected the bullet with a lightning-fast swipe of his sword.

  “Save your bullets, Deputy.” The King brandished his weapon, extending the tip of the broadsword in Ndure’s direction. “They will accomplish nothing but earning you the same fate as the good Sheriff Post.”

  Ndure holstered his pistol and stepped back, hands raised before him.

  “Now.” The King strode slowly in Post’s direction, his black fur-lined cloak brushing the earth, with Ume and Kiku falling in behind him like soldiers following their general. “Lower your weapon, Sheriff, and I may show you more mercy than you showed Sakura.”

  “Stay back.” Post backpedaled, the tip of his shotgun shaking as he struggled to maintain control of the situation. “Or I’ll shoot.”

  “The time for empty threats is over.” The King stepped up his pace, the three feet of gleaming razor-sharp steel held effortlessly before him. “Lower your weapon, Sheriff, and face your fate.”

  “Brenin, stand down!” Steven took a step forward. “No matter what he’s done, this man is the law.”

  The King cast an unimpressed gaze across his shoulder. “My apologies, Mr. Bauer, but I recognize a higher authority. Pray that you never fall on the wrong side of my judgment.”

  Someday. Steven ground his teeth. But not this day.

  “Run,” he shouted to the two lawmen. “Both of you, if you value your lives.”

  In answer, Ndure took two quick steps backward before turning and sprinting away. Post took a couple seconds longer to process, but as the Black King broke into a dead run, sword held high above his head, even the stern sheriff turned tail and ran. The chase led to the tall wrought-iron gate that barred entrance into the compound. Ndure climb
ed up and over in a flash while Post remained stranded on this side of the spiked barrier.

  “Mercy,” Post cried, holding the shotgun across his chest in a defensive posture as his dark pursuer caught up to him. “Dear God, have mercy.”

  “Niklaus, Emilio, help Sakura. I’ve got this.” Steven rushed to the Black King’s side. “You don’t have to kill him, Mr. Brenin. He’s just a man doing his job.”

  “And I’m just a man defending my home.” The King flicked his wrist, and his broadsword sent Post’s weapon flying. “I suggest you pray to whatever deity you hold sacred, Sheriff, for it will be the last thing you—”

  The crack of a revolver from beyond the gate shattered the air. The King’s shoulder flew back from the impact, the broadsword dropping from his hand. Outside the gate stood John Ndure, his revolver still smoking.

  “Now, Mr. Bauer. Step away from Sheriff Post, or I’ll have to—”

  A trio of gleaming silver objects whistled past Steven’s ear and impacted Ndure’s chest, shoulder, and gun hand, driving him back from the wrought iron bars and sending him sprawling to the ground. At each site bloomed a deadly flower of steel, the gleaming metal set off by the growing fields of red spreading at each wound. He glanced back and found Ume holding an additional set of razor-sharp stars in each hand, weapons he’d only ever seen before in the kung fu movies of his childhood.

  Throwing stars. A silent tread that left no trace. Near invisibility.

  The ability to punch through solid wood like a jackhammer.

  Not to mention, the whole telepathy thing.

  Steven wasn’t sure about the other two sisters, but any doubt as to exactly who and what Ume represented left his mind.

  Ninja.

  And a particularly dangerous one at that.

  Post took advantage of the moment and scooped up his shotgun, turning it on the gate and blowing off the lock. Beneath the metal arch in seconds, he pulled the gate shut behind him, the wrought iron bars deflecting two of the trio of stars Ume flung at him. The third found purchase in the back of his left shoulder, but the wound didn’t slow him a bit. Scooping up John Ndure, Post dragged him sideways parallel to the compound wall and out of sight, leaving Steven standing over the wounded form of the man this century knew as Victor Brenin.