But no. They were all tied up—one win for each of them. It was a contest they needed to decide sometime.
Phillip then leaped into the fray, striking hard at the spikey dark knight who had taken Aaron out. This time, the battle took place on a thin ledge with no railing high above the arena. Phillip launched the first attack, striking his heavily armored opponent hard. The dark knight lost his balance, flailing for a few seconds before Phillip jabbed him ever so gently with the tip of his sword. The dark knight fell, and the audience roared their approval.
Rich joined in, happy to see the knight who’d struck Aaron down beaten. His joy was short-lived, however. In two quick moves, Jezreel positioned herself and attacked Phillip.
The die flew overhead and landed on a side with a picture of a crown. “Ooo, I think this may be one of the rarer events,” the Gray Knight said. “Long live the king!” The audience’s noise level shot up, but Rich stood there confused. Why had the Gray Knight said that?
“In this round, the opponent may choose to have the king step in and assist the other piece. What do you say, Lord Palad?”
The question came quickly. “Heinrich, do you wish to assist your father?”
Knowing how much his father had been through lately, the answer was twice as easy to give. “Of course! Send me in.”
Rich found his feet now able to move and he rushed to his father’s side, much to the crowd’s delight.
Jezreel gave them both a wicked smile, swirling her sword and curling flames around her. “Well, this is unexpected. How fortunate for the audience. With only one of you, I might have ended the duel within seconds, and where’s the fun in that?”
Phillip’s face reddened and he raised his sword. “You tried to kill my wife...after all we’ve done to help you! You never would have gotten through those doors without Rich’s abilities.”
The flames around her flared brighter. “Oh, where are my manners?” She raised a hand and blew a kiss to Rich and one to Phillip. “Thank you...and thank you. There. Truce over. Back to the natural order of things.”
She leaped forward, wreathed in flames, a banshee scream on her lips. Rich and Phillip activated their rock skin at the same time, keeping them both safe from the fire.
They spread out, making it so their opponent would have more ground to cover. When she launched an attack on Phillip, Rich would castle to his side and deflect it before running away again. She then attacked Rich and Phillip would castle, and so on.
People around them cheered frantically, and Rich realized something. If he lost this battle, the entire game was lost. As the king, he was the only piece that couldn't fall. He wished he’d thought about that a little more before jumping into the battle, but then again, how could he pass on the chance to help his father?
The thought distracted him, and he castled a little bit too late. Jezreel smashed into him, sending him flying, some of her flames transferring to him. He rolled around on the ground, but the flames wouldn’t go out.
Rich tried to use his conjuring spheres to create a fire extinguisher, but found that power didn't work.
"I’ve had enough dancing around," Jezreel said. "Shouldn't waste your time with the fire. I’ve been saving those flames for someone special. You’ve got your unique talents, and I have mine. This blaze is nearly unquenchable.”
She withdrew her sword, letting fire lick up and down the length of it. "How about we settle this like two knights? Face-to-face, sword against sword?"
Rich withdrew Zahn, his rage building by the second. "Let's do this, Master," Zahn called to him. "I’ve heard it said that the most dangerous thing you can do is provoke the anger of a gentleman. It is the fiercest of all. Chaos often uses the power of anger, but sometimes focused anger can bring the greatest order of all."
Rich raised his sword and Jezreel attacked, and her blows landed nearly as quickly as leaping flames. Rich barely kept up, and there was no good way to anticipate where she was going to strike next.
Palad’s voice entered his mind. "As you are the king, I can lend you the powers of the king in combat if I choose. This one is called the check sense. Use it wisely."
His opponent’s blows seemed slow, and Rich felt his senses becoming sharper, able to anticipate her moves with ease. Was this part of the power of a paladin king? If so, it would make him nearly impossible to defeat in battle.
At last, Rich found an opening and struck hard, landing a blow in Jezreel’s midsection. She toppled backward, the flames around her suddenly extinguishing. In a flash, he held his sword to her throat. "Yield," he breathed.
She swallowed hard, the only flames remaining a tiny spark that seemed to glow behind her eyes. "No," she seethed.
"Yield!" he shouted, focusing his anger directly on his target.
"Never!"
She tried to roll away, but Rich anticipated it. He brought down his sword, letting power flow like lightning. Visible bands of energy rippled through it into his opponent. She twitched on the ground and then fell still.
The crowd erupted into tumultuous applause, chanting over and over. "Long live the king! Long live the king!"
Rich watched numbly as the board returned him to his original spot and placed both the fallen knights on their squares. The board was becoming crowded with those who had lost, leaving little room to maneuver. Rich realized with terrible clarity that this one day might leave him an orphan. He had to win this if he was have any chance that the sovereigns would intervene.
Several more moves passed and Mallory advanced, attacking the pawn right in front of Rich. The center of the arena slowly filled with water as they fought, but the poor knight barely had time to get in an attack before Mallory defeated him.
Rich and Mallory stood face-to-face, and she looked up, mouthing a single word.
"Check."
CHAPTER 20: A MELEE WITH MALLORY
Palad’s voice sounded firmly in Rich’s mind. "I wish to leave the choice to you, Heinrich. You have two possibilities, and it interests me to see what you decide. On the one hand, there is a bishop within striking distance. She has not yet engaged in battle in this round, and so is fresh for combat."
The voice paused for a moment. "And, of course, you may choose to take her on yourself. You possess great strength, but you have also expended most of it. She is, though, your nemesis, and thus it is fitting for you to be the one to stop her. What will you do?”
Rich didn't know if Palad expected him to deliberate for a long time about this, but it wasn’t a hard question. Sure, he might use that bishop to try to weaken Mallory further, but Mallory would just attack him the next turn anyway. He didn't know what was going to happen to the fallen in this match, and he didn't want to possibly throw away the life of a fellow paladin to save his own neck. "I will take her myself," he said aloud, stepping forward into her square.
As he did so, she grinned and laughed, and because he knew her so well, it sounded sinister.
"Oh, this is a battle you should all be excited about!" the Gray Knight cried. “These two made it all the way through the maze together, even though Heinrich is a paladin and Mallory is his nemesis. Doesn't that sound like an interesting bout?"
The audience filled the air with thunderous approval until the Gray Knight spoke again, "All that's left is to roll the die."
The magical die soared in the air and landed, showing the image of a dark cloud.
"Ooo, the fog of war," the Gray Knight said. "Since you are both new to the game, let me explain. The battlefield will be covered with fog, of course, but it's more than that. None of your knight powers will work. No shapeshifting, no fire, no stone skin. Just a boy and his nemesis, two swords and an excellent example of the w
ater cycle."
Before Rich could take all of this in, he found himself swept away in clouds of roiling mist.
He drew his sword, feeling like he was in one of those bad dreams where he came to school naked. Instinctively, he tried to throw up a shield and found that it didn't work. Not even for an instant. He held his sword close to his mouth, speaking softly so he wouldn't give away his position. "Do you think you could create a diversion?"
"Of course...at least, I think so,” Zahn replied. “You could throw me in one direction and I’ll try to lead her away from where you really are. When she picks me up, I’ll give her a nasty surprise. You hold back and catch her off guard."
"Do you think you can mimic my voice?" Rich whispered.
The sword fell silent for a moment. “I don't know. How does this sound?" he replied in a near-perfect imitation of Rich’s voice.
With a quiet thanks, Rich hurled the sword into the mist and made his way in the opposite direction. He still hadn’t heard anything from Mallory, and for some reason, he couldn't even hear the crowd. Everything was unnervingly silent, and the mist raised tiny bumps on his arms and made his breath condense in front of his face.
He jumped at what looked like a dark streak in the mist, but then it vanished. He’d been so sure it was a human figure.
After running in one direction for a while, he started to circle back around toward the place where he thought he’d thrown his sword, though it was difficult to tell through this fog. "This is getting old, Mallory," Zahn said, impersonating Rich. “Why don't you come to me and we can end this? Follow the sound of my voice."
Rich did a quick inspection, and after a few seconds, he thought he saw other images in the mist. The three-headed Hydra, a flying sword, the bulk of a Neotaur ready to crush him. Rich rushed at each of them, but none of them were more substantial than curling vapors.
"In a way, this is kind of nice," Zahn said. "This time I know you're not going to turn into a Hydra or something else totally completely unfair. You can't burn off the mist, either. Finally, we can have a fair fight!”
Rich moved toward the sound as well, and when he got as close as he dared, he stood still, barely breathing as he waited to see if she would approach.
The battlefield remained silent, and shapes continued to appear in the mist—the outline of the paladin aircraft; the Gray Knight; a guitar, even; and something that looked like an arrow rushing at him.
He heard a faint clatter behind him and turned to look over his shoulder, but couldn't see anything in the limited visibility. "Hello, Richie," came a voice from directly behind him.
Rich spun, lashing out with his arms, but didn't catch anything. He was sure Mallory had been right behind him and he took a couple steps forward in the direction of the voice, looking every which way.
The voice came again from ahead. "If you want to fight, let's do it. We don't even have to use swords if you don't want to."
Rich charged forward, but still, he saw nothing. He breathed harder and straightened up, trying to calm himself. He thought he saw her to the right and then to the left, like he was chasing a phantom.
Then something hit him hard from behind. He stumbled onto his face and felt Mallory’s crushing weigh on his back.
She landed a blow to his head, sending him into a swirl of dizzy agony. His adrenaline spiked, and Rich cast her off into the mists. He stumbled to his feet in time to see her charging, holding out Zahn in front of her. “Thanks for giving me my sword back," Mallory yelled as she charged. She swung the sword at him, and at the same time, Zahn said, "Hi, Richie!"
Rich dodged just in time to keep from losing his head. He didn't have that same premonition ability Palad had given him last time. He felt weak and sluggish. With his paladin abilities gone, he realized how much he usually relied on them. Without them, he was just a nerdy kid who got pelted with dodgeballs every week in gym class.
Mallory kicked him again with her boots, sending an excruciating wave of pain through his side.
He wanted to lie there groaning in pain, but he knew he had to at least roll away. There was too much at stake here. If he lost, everything was lost. He thought of his parents, Nadia, Angela, Aaron, and Jan. They all would have given their lives for him. One of them already had, and some of them certainly would if he didn't win right now.
He pictured himself as a Roman gladiator facing down a lion. The lion had knocked away his short Roman sword and dented his helmet, but had not taken his life. As long as he had that, there was still hope.
Could Zahn really betrayed him? Maybe he had been spying for Mallory this whole time—he had been Mallory’s sword at one point. But that didn't seem right. Rich had healed the sword so there wasn't a speck of darkness left in it. Deep down, Zahn was a paladin and had only been twisted into serving the dark knights. Maybe he was just making Mallory think he’d come back to her.
A plan forming in his mind, Rich scrambled to his feet and set off in a shambling run. Rich could hear Mallory behind him. If he stayed on the run, he would have a chance. He abruptly reversed direction and made a desperate gamble. "Zahn, now!"
An instant later, Zahn let forth a shout that might have registered as an earthquake on the Richter scale. Covering his ears, Rich dashed forward and found Mallory holding the side of her head, having dropped Zahn to the ground. Rich grabbed the sword, and it immediately stopped shouting.
Mallory staggered forward and Rich tackled her, getting her to the ground and keeping the sword close to her face. "How does it feel to be double-crossed?" Rich said. “Then again, doesn't seem like the Golden Rule’s something you live by."
Mallory sneered, but Rich could see some fear behind her eyes. She couldn't shapeshift or use any other power to get out of this. She was just like a normal person, whatever she had been before becoming a dark knight. "Go ahead," she whispered. "You have more in common with a dark knight than you'd like to admit, Heinrich Witz."
Though Rich couldn't see the audience, he knew they were still there, watching his every move. Not only that, but the sovereigns themselves were watching the proceedings too. Most importantly of all, he knew deep down that he was a paladin, and being a destroyer was not the paladin way, nor was it his.
"I’ve beaten you, Mallory. Two out of three. But I don't want to kill you if that's what you're saying. Surrender, and let’s get this game over with. The Gray Knight can help my mother. Maybe he can help Jezreel and my father too. Otherwise, we're just wasting time."
Mallory rolled her eyes, chuckling softly. "You only think you’ve won, Richie. When you see the big picture, you might wish you’d died here so you aren’t around for what happens next." She scowled even deeper, her voice full of scorn. "The more you love, the more you can suffer. You’ll lose everything...your precious family, and that poor fool, Nadia,"
Rich didn’t want to hear anymore. He squeezed the hilt of his sword, letting a burst of energy flow through it. It slammed into Mallory, knocking her unconscious.
In the next second, the mists vanished and Rich found himself back on the board with Mallory lying facedown on the square directly in front of him. The crowd cheered his name in rhythm. "Heinrich, Heinrich …" It felt like something out of one of his daydreams, but no. This was completely real, with thousands upon thousands of people cheering for him. Strangely, he wanted them to stop. He looked out on the battlefield and saw how many had already fallen. This wasn't something to cheer about, but there was nothing he could do to stop them.
"Well done," Palad said. "With their queen gone, it is time to end this. Let us begin by bringing our own queen into the fray.”
Rich went on the offensive, bringing his queen, his bishop, and the remaining rook into the fight. The dark knight pieces put up some r
esistance, but their morale seemed broken. Soon, the enemy king stood in a corner, flanked by a white rook, bishop, and queen.
The rook fought first, eventually falling, but first taking several opportunities to weaken the king. The king fought with the bishop next, which seemed noticeably less powerful. The bishop fell as well, but that time, the king was barely limping along. When the white queen, a tall, slender woman with long blonde hair and the staff of a mage approached him, he could offer little resistance.
With a nearly blinding blast of magic, she sent him to his knees and then onto his face. When he did not stir, the Gray Knight’s voice resounded through the stadium. "Checkmate!"
All of the remaining black and white pieces returned to their starting squares as the paladin who played the white queen approached Rich and spoke to him in a soft voice. "I bring you greetings from my husband. He wanted to come fight beside you himself, but he is recently arrived and was not yet eligible."
She straightened and pointed to a place in the stands. There in the front row stood an enormous man Rich recognized. "Jan? He’s your …?"
"Yes, I am Frieda. I waited many years to be reunited with him. He asks you not to grieve too much for his passing. He's proud of what you've done and the great things you have yet to do." She turned and said a final thing close to Rich’s ear. "The book you carry. It is more valuable than you know. There is not another translation like it anywhere. Remember that.”
Before Rich could say anything, the Gray Knight was suddenly at their sides again. "The sovereigns wish to meet with the champions. The next match will begin in one hour. Be sure to place your bets."
The Gray Knight tapped the earth with his sword and a trapdoor opened, revealing a stairway leading down into the ground. He motioned Rich and the other remaining white pieces to go in. "You first, Mr. Witz," the Gray Knight said. "It is the king’s privilege."
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