Complete Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches

by William Robert Stanek

  “I don’t find it offensive—”

  “I didn’t think you did but it does trouble you. Can I share a secret with you?” Adrina’s expression brightened as if Galan was about to give her a gift. “I too once had the same thoughts as you. Voices in my head were most unnatural to me then.”

  “I thought all elves spoke thus. Is it not your way—” Adrina paused. “—the way of the Brotherhood?

  “The way of the Brotherhood, yes. The way of my people, no. Only someone who had never—”

  “Seth,” cut in Adrina, “Father Jacob told me of a conversation with Seth. Seth said—”

  “Seth would not have remembered. He has never been among our people. Kapital is all he knows, yet its boundaries don’t represent the boundaries of our lands—and it shouldn’t be the only thing we know.”

  “Leklorall?” asked Adrina squeezing her hands together.

  Galan’s eyes showed surprise. “Who told you of Leklorall?”

  “The capital of East Reach is Leklorall, just as the capital of West Reach is Elorendale,” said Adrina matter-of-factly, fidgeting with her hands.

  Galan stood—and for an instant Adrina could see fear and anger in Galan’s eyes. You can’t know this! None of your kind has ever been to our lands and you have no records of our kind!

  “But of course we have records of the elves. Keeper Martin has many scrolls and tomes filled with your lore. He says that there were once more but they were lost in a great fire.”

  “You don’t understand, Princess Adrina,” said Galan. “We know your history and your records—we wrote it, after all.”

  “Sit,” said Adrina. “What do you mean?”

  Galan, shocked at her own words—at their truth which she knew never to speak and wasn’t even supposed to know—tried to stop herself from speaking but couldn’t. “The Second Age—the histories recording the end of the Second Age were penned by Aven and Riven, half-elven. They were the original Lore Keepers as you call them. When the Elves of the Greye laid siege to the Kingdoms—the lands of Man—it was the Elves of the Reaches who came across the water to your aid.”

  “You speak lies!” shouted Adrina. “I have been made to study the histories all my life—and I know what occurred! The elves invaded our lands and though it took nearly two thousand years to drive them away, we succeeded!”

  “Half truths, I assure you! Half truths!” Galan was shouting now and she was angry, and anger was not an emotion that came to her mind willingly—the Brotherhood had seen to that. Galan glared at Adrina—her thoughts racing. Adrina was still fidgeting with her hands and it was as Adrina’s eyes became angry and wild that Galan saw the glowing orb Adrina held.

  Galan snatched the orb away. Adrina tried to fight the elf off but was no match—and this was a good thing. The wildness in Adrina’s eyes fell away the instant she released the orb.

  Galan breathed deeply; calm, even breaths to steady her emotions. “Where did you get this? Do you know what this is? What this can do?”

  Adrina was beyond speech as she collected her thoughts. Galan continued as she studied the orb, “This… This is Dnyarr’s Orb—like the Gates of Uver the Orbs are forbidden. Where did you get this?”

  “Dnyarr? Uver? I don’t understand Galan. There was an attack and the one who led the attackers held this in his hand. It is magical, I believe. Somehow he used it to make a box of silence. I know this sounds of madness but—”

  “Not madness, truth. Each of the orbs has different properties, different powers—and different effects on those who hold them. They say the orbs, like the gates, are made of a magical substance once mined from the deepest, darkest reaches of the Samguinne—in Under-Earth.”

  Adrina touched her hands to Galan’s shoulders. “I’m not of your world Galan. I don’t understand. Where does it come from? Why is it here? What is it doing to us?”

  “Dnyarr, Elf King of Greye, fashioned the orbs and the gates. The orbs are keys of sorts and the gates, doorways between realms. There are believed to be four orbs and seven gates—and Dnyarr hoped to use them to control the known realms. He gave three of the orbs to his sons: Daren, Damen and Shost, keeping one of the orbs for himself. The gates

  are scattered throughout the three realms.

  “After the Great War, Dnyarr passed from the world of the knowing—not into death, as there is no true death from natural causes among the elves, but as it is said he lost the will to go on and so departed Under-Earth for the next life. His sons divided the Lands of Greye into three kingdoms, but as your people succumbed to a war of blood, so did Greye—a war where the three sons of Dnyarr fought to control Greye.

  “As with the Kingdoms, the enemies of Greye saw the strife as an opportunity and so began the Rhylle/Armore wars. In the end Greye was left without its kings—and no king has ruled since. The people of Greye have been enemies of Rhylle and Armore since that time and it has kept their focus away from our realm, but the time of change is upon us again. And the Dark One, the one our people called Sathar, returns.”

  “Sathar…? Who is Sathar and what does all this have to do with—”

  “Not so much a who as a what. Sathar represents darkness. But to say that Sathar is darkness doesn’t show an understanding of what Sathar is.”

  Adrina scrunched up her eyes and rubbed her temples. She wished Keeper Martin were here. He would understand what Galan was speaking of better than she. “Back to the orb. Can it really project a box of silence?”

  Galan judged Adrina’s expression without probing thoughts. “This is important to you?”

  “More than you would ever know.”

  “Yes I believe so, particularly as Myrial has been standing in the far hall trying to hear our words—and though they’ve often been heated, she hasn’t been able to hear anything. So yes, I think this orb has that power, among others. It is dangerous, though, to the untrained. You have seen how it can pervert thought and action.”

  “How do we turn it off?”

  “Like this, I imagine,” said Galan, putting the orb in the leather pouch Adrina had been holding after Galan snatched the orb away. She fought the urge to read Adrina’s thoughts and emotions, hoping Adrina wouldn’t be too hard on the good-intentioned Myrial. Her own good intentions had caused her to listen to many things that she shouldn’t have been privy to.

  “Myrial, come!” called out Adrina. Wide-eyed, Myrial entered Adrina’s room and came out onto the balcony. “You’ve been standing in the hall, listening all this time?”

  As a child caught stealing cookies, Myrial’s eyes appealed to Adrina silently and her face turned red with embarrassment. “My thoughts are only of you. I … I—”

  “I know, I know,” said Adrina. “Did you hear what we were speaking of?”

  “I tried,” said Myrial. “But I could hear nothing.”

  “Just as well, I don’t fault you.” Adrina raised an eyebrow and nodded to Galan. “Will you have dinner ordered and brought to us here?”

  “Of course, dinner for two,” said Myrial turning, about to hurry away.

  “Dinner for three,” said Adrina. “You will be joining us, yes?”

  A smile lit Myrial’s face. “If it is your wish, I would enjoy it immensely.”

  “No, it is your wish, Myrial. Is it not, Galan?”

  Galan laughed.

  “It is,” whispered Myrial, turning to Galan. “Do you walk in my thoughts?”

  Galan laughed. Adrina found she was unable to keep from laughing as well. Soon Myrial was laughing too. The laughter was cleansing.

  Chapter Twelve:

  King’s Mate

  Vilmos hurriedly retrieved the tiny king piece from the table where he had placed it. Then he and Edward made their way to the stairs. Edward’s large arm returned to Vilmos’ shoulder as they did so and, for an instant, Vilmos thought he would collapse under the tremendous weight.

  The stairs creaked and moaned under Edward’s weight as the two slowly descended to the first floor. T
he large open room below was pleasantly lit with candles hung from the ceiling in raised candelabra. On the center table, in a room filled with tables and chairs, was a large wooden board with small, hand-hewn squares etched into its surface and a number of tiny wooden playing pieces strewn haplessly about.

  Edward ushered Vilmos into one of the chairs and turned the board to face them properly. “So you’ve never played before?” asked Edward checking Vilmos’ eyes for honesty. Vilmos shook his head. “Well, I’m going to teach you, so listen closely.”

  Vilmos leaned forward.

  “Look carefully at the board. You will see it is seven columns wide and nine rows deep. There are… Hold on just a moment, I forgot something.” Edward rose from the table, a slow and careful feat. He poured a draught from a large wooden keg, setting a frothy mug onto the counter momentarily as he tapped a second keg. He then filled a second mug and handed this to Vilmos. A healthy swig left thick foam around the innkeeper’s lips, which when clean-licked roused a smile. “Go ahead try it! I just can’t play without drink—and neither should you!”

  Vilmos sniffed at the liquid in the mug. It had an unpleasantly strong odor. He raised the cup to his lips and stuck his tongue in for a taste. To his surprise, the drink held a sweet, tantalizing taste, somewhat like honey. “It’s good!” he exclaimed.

  “Why, of course it is,” said Edward. “Now listen closely to what I have to say… Where was I now?” Edward scratched at the thick scales on his forehead. “… Oh, yes. The board has seven raised areas. Five are in its center. These form an ‘X’. The remaining two are in the center of the last row on each end.”

  Edward began to organize the pieces. He told Vilmos to put his king—the white king—on the board. The white king had an oversized, jeweled crown on its head and a sheathed sword in its right hand. As Vilmos did this, Edward placed his king—the black king—on the board. The black king wore a dark cape with a circlet of gold for a crown, and held a scepter in its left hand.

  The next piece was a knight with a sword raised high into the air. This piece was the swordmaster and one occupied a square on either side of the king. Placed beside the swordmaster on the left was a priest and on the right a priestess. The priests held a long bone in their left hand and their right hand turned palm up contained three round pebbles. The priestesses held a ring of flowers.

  As if bookends, two pieces representing Lore Keepers went into the end spaces of the last row. The Lore Keepers bore a great book before them as if it was a weapon—and there was no question in Vilmos’ mind that the book was indeed a weapon in the right hands. He had seen his father, the village counselor, use the book to solve many issues—even heated disputes.

  On the next row Edward put five figures. “Fools,” he whispered to Vilmos, as he placed the figures on the board in the first, second, forth, sixth and seventh columns, leaving an empty space in front of the swordmasters and explaining this by saying, “Swordmasters need extra space to maneuver, and fools understand this.”

  Intrigued by the game he had seen old men labor over for long hours, though they had never offered to show him how to play, Vilmos listened to Edward’s every word intently. He paused only to drink as Edward did.

  Finishing off his mug, Edward went to pour himself another, deciding after he had already filled it to pull the entire keg over next to him so that it would be within arm’s reach. He also filled Vilmos’ half-empty mug before he sat back down.

  “Drink up Vilmos! It’s good for you,” said Edward laughing. “Are you ready to begin?”

  Vilmos raised the mug to his lips and smiled, indicating a yes.

  Edward continued, “All the pieces move differently. It is easiest to remember the moves this way… The king can only move one space at a time but in any direction. The swordmasters may move any number of spaces but must always be adjacent to the king. They revolve around him and rotate around his moves, moving always in direct lines. One must always be in a square touching the king, and the other may be adjacent to the king or the other swordmaster. So you see it is fairly tricky to move these three pieces around the board, particularly as you can only move one piece per turn. So you have to really plan your moves. Are you following me or did I lose you?”

  Vilmos shrugged. He understood, somewhat. He would wait to play the game and hope he moved correctly.

  As Edward wanted to clarify this point anyway, he went through a few practice moves with the black king and his swordmasters. He moved the left swordmaster forward one square, indicating that it was still adjacent to the black king, and then he moved the right swordmaster diagonally two squares until it rested before the other swordmaster. Edward indicated why this was a valid move. He then moved the king forward one square. He followed through a number of these simple maneuvers until it seemed Vilmos caught on.

  “The priest and priestess move diagonally,” Edward said, “in one direction only, any number of spaces on a given turn. Similarly, the keepers may move vertically or horizontally any number of spaces. The fools can only move one space at a time, either forward or backward. That’s how they move…

  “Now you must just remember this one last, very important rule. Only the king or the swordmasters may pass through the raised squares or stop on them…”

  Vilmos watched as Edward pointed out the locations of the seven raised squares again.

  “With one exception— if the king occupies the center raised square, any of the pieces of his color may cross the raised squares, but only for as long as he remains on that space.” Edward stopped to take a heavy swig.

  “You capture the pieces according to the direction that the piece you are using moves. Except for the fool, the fool only takes pieces that are diagonal to it. That is why he is called the fool, for he is the only piece that captures other pieces opposite from the way that he moves. The king cannot be captured until both his swordmasters are taken from him… So you must take the swordmasters first in order to capture the king and win… Do you understand?”

  Vilmos thought about what Edward said, confused. In his mind, he moved the pieces around the board. He understood that part of the game, but not how to capture another person’s piece. “But how can you capture the king and win if you have to take the swordmasters first?”

  “Through sacrifice, Vilmos… Nothing good is gained without sacrifice.”

  All the pieces in place now, the game progressed, with Edward observing the defense while Vilmos gradually learned the intricacies. Vilmos was enjoying spending the evening in Edward’s company. Edward’s honest, open, goodhearted spirit was exactly what Vilmos needed to fill the empty spaces of his mind and heart.

  After a short period of moving the pieces back and forth, neither gaining nor losing ground, Edward switched to an offensive posture, and with great precision, not losing a piece, he stripped Vilmos of his five fools.

  Amazed at how suddenly his pieces had been captured and taken away, for he thought he had been careful, Vilmos became inspired by the strategy involved in maneuvering the pieces. Before, he had been reluctant to attack, yet after Edward’s wave, Vilmos was left with no other choice.

  Seeking to recoup some of the losses, he ended up sacrificing his pieces instead. In an amazingly short time he was down to only three pieces: a single swordmaster, a priestess and his white king. A few moves later and the game was over. Edward’s boisterous laughter filled the small inn, echoing long along its halls and through its many empty chambers.

  “Again?” asked Vilmos.

  Edward took a long swig from his mug. “Again indeed!”

  As Edward began to reset the board, Vilmos followed. “They are symbols, aren’t they?” Vilmos asked. “I mean each piece represents something. Right?”

  “More than that, I’m afraid.” Edward winked at Vilmos. “The history of King’s Mate is as long as time itself, or at least that is what I was told as a boy. I think that you’ll understand it all one day—no, I’m sure you will.”

  Vilmos was
quiet for a time as he placed the remaining pieces on the board. The white king he positioned last—and it was the one piece that intrigued him the most. The crown was too big for the king’s head, and while the other king held a weapon—the scepter had a blade at either tip—the white king’s weapon was sheathed and his hands were empty.

  “First move is yours,” said Edward. “When you are ready, of course.”

  Play began when Vilmos moved one of his fools, but Vilmos’ thoughts were less on the game and more on other matters. “You brought me here. Didn’t you, Edward?”

  “I did. Would you rather I left you to the Followers? They’d not be showing you kindness right about now, I assure you. This realm is not yours—and you should be wary of everything you encounter in it.”