As the melee raged on, the black on white a schizophrenic pianist’s nightmare, Steven scanned the asphalt battlefield.
“Steven,” Emilio whispered as the blade inched closer to his Adam’s apple. “What is it?”
“Not what,” Steven said. “Who.” A pinch over his collarbone prompted him to spin around. A tongue of black flame slithered up the alley from the opposite direction of the battle, the trail of dark fire coming to an abrupt halt behind Vago and Emilio.
“I think he’s looking for me, boys.” The Black Queen stepped out of what appeared to be the polar opposite of a camera flash and grasped Emilio’s collar. “Release the boy,” she ordered. “He is mine.”
Vago stepped away from Emilio, shoving him to the ground at the Queen’s feet. “Sure thing, mamacita. He’s all yours.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Steven.” The Queen lowered her scepter at Emilio’s head. “I’m afraid your new friend has reached the end of the Game before it even had a chance to start. Better luck with the next—”
A loud thunk brought an abrupt end to the Queen’s taunt. She fell forward onto the pavement revealing Lena’s panting form, the aluminum bat held low at the end of its arc.
“Stay away from my man, puta.”
The Black Queen lay dazed at Lena’s feet. A small gash above her right temple left a thin trail of red running down her cheek.
Vago’s smug expression evaporated as Steven, Lena and Emilio converged on him. “Look, bro,” he grunted to Emilio. “She was gonna kill you anyway and—”
“Save it.” Steven raised an angry hand. “You’re done.” He turned to Lena and Emilio. “You two, head for the door. We’re getting out of here.”
“You can’t leave me here,” Vago said. “They’ll kill me.”
“Not our problem.” Emilio helped Lena through the open doorway and then stepped through himself onto the hot sand beyond its shimmering threshold.
Steven waited for Emilio and Lena to make their exit before retreating to the door himself. Vago attempted to follow but found the flashing spear-axe tip of Steven’s pike a compelling deterrent. Willing his seven doppelgangers to rejoin him, the line of ivory-clad warriors faded into nothingness as the lone remaining White Pawn stepped through the shimmering portal and pulled the door shut behind him.
The Black Queen stared blearily from the ground as her dark archers charged through the evaporating line of White Pawns. Their axes reduced the door to splinters in seconds, but the shattered doorframe revealed only a darkened room populated by a dilapidated vending machine and a few shelves filled with dusty stock. All save one rushed the room while the last remained to help the dazed Queen to her feet.
Seconds later, the seven Blackfoot warriors stepped single file back into the alley and encircled their wounded Queen. Her core burned with hatred as hot as the dark flame that served her every whim.
As their enemy had done moments before, the Pawn who had remained by her side subsumed his seven brethren before kneeling at his Queen’s feet. She motioned for him to rise and then paced the breadth of the alley like a frustrated jungle cat.
“They’re not here,” the Pawn said, his voice low.
“You won’t find them in there, Wahnahtah. I suspect they are far from here by now.” The Queen reflected for a moment. “The White have managed to elude us twice now. The King will not be pleased.”
“So, what do we do with him?” Wahnahtah flicked his eyes at Vago as the leader of the Blues edged toward the far corner of the alley. “Shall I end him?”
“Not at the moment.” The Queen regarded Vago with fatigued derision. “Still, we can’t very well leave any loose ends lying around.”
Vago turned to run and found himself encircled in black flames. His voice cracked as he turned to face the Queen. “Please. Don’t kill me.”
“Don’t worry, little man. I suspect you may prove useful further down the path.” She held her hand before her, palm up. “Time to face the music, Wahnahtah.”
The Black Pawn took the Queen’s hand in his and they both looked into Vago’s one good eye. The circle of fire surrounding him dwindled to nothing as the Queen beckoned him to join them. After some hesitation, he crept over to their side. With trembling fingers, he placed his hand over their interlaced digits.
The Black Queen muttered an unintelligible phrase, snapped her fingers, and the trio vanished in a cocoon of darkness, leaving only a few static pops to mark their passing.
14
Tide
A ribbon of sand stretched up and down the undeveloped section of coastline. Steven, Lena, and Emilio sat halfway between the water and the wooded area fifty feet inland. A balmy wind from across the waves cooled them even as the sun warmed their backs and the pleasant scent of the ocean permeated their senses. The undulating rhythm of the waves reminded Steven of a slow waltz.
Lena lay with her head in Emilio’s lap, her olive arm draped across her eyes to block the rays of the late afternoon sun as it continued its march into the treetops to the west. Emilio’s eyes remained sullen, but the boy said nothing as he stared out into what Steven hoped was the Atlantic. His mind still reeling from the events of the preceding eighteen hours, the memory of his eightfold existence slipped from his thoughts like sand between his toes.
Steven’s eyes slipped closed as sleep overtook him for the briefest of moments. When they again opened, Lena and Emilio both stared past him at a point south of them along the shoreline. Leaping to his feet, he jerked the pawn icon from his pocket and readied himself to face whatever threat awaited them there.
Beneath a battered, grey fedora, their visitor walked barefoot through the surf toward the three of them. His dark pants hitched way above his knees, the man’s out-of-season duster remained dry despite the lapping waves at his feet.
Steven walked down the beach and joined Grey at the water’s edge. The pair stood there in silence for a moment as seagulls and sandpipers fed in the waxing and waning surf.
“You found us,” Steven said.
“No small feat, as you are the one with the pouch.” Grey smiled. “Luckily, I am not without resources.”
Steven cocked his head to one side. “Glad to know you made it out of Maine alive.”
“Likewise, though I had the utmost faith you would make it through.” Grey looked up the beach and met Lena and Emilio’s expectant gazes. “I see you have found your second Piece.”
“We got lucky. The Queen and her eight little Indians decided to make an appearance. Just glad they left the wall of stone at home this time.”
“You faced their Queen and Pawn, but not their Rook?” Grey rubbed at his temples. “What is Zed playing at?”
“Zed?” Steven’s eyes blazed. “What are you playing at, Grey? We were almost killed back there. That happens and this Game of yours is over before it even begins.”
“I am truly sorry you faced your enemy alone today, though truth be told, there is little I could have done. Even were I not indisposed by the actions of our opposition last evening, I am forbidden to intervene in affairs of White and Black until the Game proper begins.”
“Forbidden.” Steven shook his head. “Well, isn’t that convenient?”
Grey sighed. “I know all of this must seem cruel and the task before you impossible. Nonetheless, the responsibility of assembling the White is yours and yours alone.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’m the Pawn. Low man on the totem pole. Compared to black fire, flying walls and magical arrows, my little army of eight doesn’t stand a chance.”
Grey peered up the beach at Lena and Emilio. “The evidence would suggest otherwise.”
“Like I said, I got lucky, but what if I’m not good enough next time?” Steven stared across the water. “These kids aren’t even out of high school yet. If it weren’t for Lena’s quick thinking, the Queen would’ve french-fried all three of us. This may be your Game, but if anything happens to them, it’ll be my fault.”
A whimper from
behind Steven revealed he and Grey were no longer alone. He turned to find Emilio no more than a few steps away with Lena by his side. Tears rolled down the girl’s cheeks and onto her boyfriend’s shoulder. Emilio stared off into space, his steely facade crumbling despite his best efforts.
“Listen to me,” Grey whispered into Steven’s ear. “These ‘kids’ as you call them are a part of this and can no more walk away than can you. It is the nature of the Game. Regardless of your frustrations about the manner in which things are happening or your role in the struggle, you were first and therefore are going to have to lead.”
“My apologies. I didn’t mean for you two to hear that.” Steven motioned for Emilio and Lena to come closer. “No use keeping you two in the dark any longer.”
Emilio took a step closer. “I’m guessing this is Grey.”
“I see my reputation precedes me.” Grey stepped forward and offered his hand.
“Grey,” Steven said, “Emilio Cruz.”
Emilio took Grey’s hand. “Steven said you were the man with all the answers.”
“Not nearly as many as I would prefer, young man.” He turned to Lena. “And you, my dear, must be the clever young lady of whom Steven spoke.”
“Lena Cervantes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Grey.”
“Grey will suffice.” A smile shone from beneath the grey fedora. “And the pleasure, Lena, is mine.”
“All right… Grey.” Lena trembled from head to toe despite the late afternoon heat.
“Hey, Steven.” Emilio pulled him aside. “I wanted to thank you for everything you did for Lena and me. We owe you our lives and we’ll never be able to repay you, but now that it’s over, we want to go home.” The answer must have been written across Steven’s face, for the glimmer of hope in his eyes evaporated in a blink. “It’s not over, is it?”
Grey answered before Steven could so much as take a breath. “Emilio, Lena, the two of you have today borne witness to events few people have ever seen, and fewer still have lived to recount. All will be made clear soon enough, but for now understand this.
“A conflict is unfolding that will impact not only you, but the entire world on an unimaginable scale. Your lives are an intrinsic part of this coming struggle, and both of you have a significant role to play in the Game to come. Steven was the first, you are the second, and soon you will be joined by others.
“The road that lies ahead has been walked before, but as you have witnessed, the forces that stand against you are ruthless and relentless in their pursuit of victory. All your usual places of refuge are no longer safe. Until the Game is resolved, for better or worse, all our lives are bound together, yours to ours and ours to yours.”
Emilio turned on Grey. “You keep talking about this Game. I know we’re young, but if Lena and I are really a part of this crazy mess, I think we deserve to hear it straight.”
Grey shot Steven a sidelong glance. “I believe they would prefer to hear it from you.”
Steven spent the better part of an hour recounting the events of the preceding day—his narrow escape from the Black Queen, the flight to Maine and subsequent escape to Baltimore, and his novice understanding of his role in Grey’s Game.
As he moved into the events that led to their current coastal sanctuary, Emilio raised a hand, an incredulous expression spreading across his face. “You really should think about moving to Hollywood, Steven. You could write one hell of a screenplay.” The skeptical tone rang familiar to Steven’s ear. “But what does any of this have to do with me and Lena?”
“The truth, Emilio? I believe you are one of the Pieces I’m searching for.”
Emilio rose from the sand. “That’s what I thought you were going to say.” He walked barefoot out into the ocean and stared out into the darkening sky of early evening. After a moment, he stooped over, picked up an oyster shell covered in barnacles and flung it into the ocean. Lena joined him in the churning surf and draped an arm about his waist.
Emilio peered back across his shoulder. “How do you know it’s me the Game wants?”
Steven retrieved the pouch from a shrub where it hung in silence. He drew closer and the drone resumed, increasing in volume with each step.
“Listen to it. Hear how it gets louder, more insistent when it comes near you?”
Emilio shifted his gaze back out across the rippling waves. “What if I don’t want what the damn thing has to offer?”
Steven joined Lena and Emilio at the water’s edge, the pouch’s high-pitched drone growing with his every step. “I don’t think it works that way. Believe me, no one understands what you’re going through better than me. Last night, I was you. One second everything was normal and the next, I was being chased by a Terminator in a cocktail dress. Today, Emilio, you were the target of the attack. The enemy knows who you are. It doesn’t matter how they know. They’ll keep coming and coming till…”
“I get it.” Emilio’s gaze shifted to Grey. “So, Grey, can you at least tell us where we’ve ended up?”
Grey’s gaze wandered out across the ocean. “We stand on the eastern shore of an island located in the Outer Banks of your Carolina coast, one of the uninhabited ones. I forget its current name.” He hunkered down on the soft sand. “It is lovely here, is it not? So tranquil, as close to pristine as you will find this century.” His eyes lit up as he pointed a tapering finger north along the shore. “Ah, here is a sight few people get to see.”
Steven squinted off into the distance and spotted movement along the woodline. A moment later, Lena squealed with delight. Coming into view, a herd of at least thirty horses ran along the edge of the trees, sand flying from their hooves in parabolic arcs. For a moment, the years fell away and Steven sat by his father on their old couch watching Clint Eastwood shoot his way across Italy in one of Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns.
“Here, these noble beasts run free,” Grey said, “living the way they did before man domesticated their ancestors.”
“They’re wild?” Looking into Lena’s bright eyes, Steven could scarcely believe she was the same inconsolable girl from moments before. “How did they get here?”
“Untamed horses have roamed these shores for over four centuries. This herd consists of direct descendants of Iberian horses brought over from Spain by none other than Christopher Columbus. Abandoned in the early sixteenth century by a colony ravaged by disease and poor leadership, the horses adapted to life on the island, living off the coarse marsh grass and the fresh water that lies below the sand.”
“They’re beautiful,” Lena said. The horses passed them by and continued south, sticking to the edge of the treeline. “Why are they so small?”
“The island diet retards their growth. The locals call them ‘bank ponies,’ though their small stature belies the wild heart beating within each one.” The four of them watched until the galloping herd disappeared into the distance.
The wind coming off the water continued to cool and Lena suggested building a fire. Within minutes, Steven and Emilio gathered enough brush to get started, though they discovered dry wood of any substantial size was scarce. Fully expecting Grey to strut his stuff and start the fire with a wave of his hand, Steven was almost disappointed when Emilio whipped out a silver lighter and ignited the kindling.
After a few false starts, the fatigued quartet huddled close around the flickering heat. Grey’s duster was sufficient to keep Lena warm, but Steven, Emilio, and even Grey all noted the chill as the sun finally dipped behind the woods to the west. Grey divided provisions among the four of them though the small bag of jerky and the single wineskin of water only went so far. After consuming the simple fare, the quartet all sat and stared into the fire. After several minutes of small talk, Lena brought the conversation back to the matter at hand.
“The people who attacked us, they’re all like you and Emilio? Pieces in the Game?”
“That’s what Grey tells me. So far, we’ve met their Queen, Pawn, and Rook, unless I miss my guess.”
&nbs
p; Grey nodded once in affirmation as a question that had been nagging at the back of Steven’s consciousness finally crystallized.
“Tell me, Lena,” Steven asked, “what did you see when we were attacked? The people on the rooftops. What did they look like to you?”
Lena considered for a moment. “They looked like… more gang members. They had guns, maybe? It’s weird, Steven. I can’t really remember what they looked like at all.”
“And you, Emilio? What did you see?”
“The same. It’s all a big blur. That woman stood right in front of me, but all I remember about her is Lena clocking her with the bat.” Emilio pulled Lena in tight and kissed her forehead.
“That sounds about right.” Steven smiled. “Let me show you something.” He summoned his cloak and wrapped himself within its folds. “What do you see?”
“You’re… different,” Lena said.
“But still you,” Emilio added.
“The cloak of anonymity.” Grey smiled. “Excellent. I had intended to let you know of its existence and capabilities, but our conversation in Maine was… interrupted.”
“With this thing on, no one gives me a second look.” Steven dismissed the cloak and his attire shifted back to his ordinary T-shirt and jeans.
“I’m guessing the bad guys have cloaks as well,” Emilio said. “That explains why the whole thing seems so fuzzy.”
“You let them see you with your weapons before,” Lena said. “Why?”
“Only thing I could think of at the moment,” Steven said. “I had to do something to get their attention on me.”
“Steven’s necessary diversion notwithstanding, the Game was designed to take place in utter secrecy,” Grey said. “Each Piece was granted the ability to move with impunity among the rest of society. In Steven’s case, the focus is a cloak, though it may be different for each Piece.”
“I’m guessing you don’t wear the overcoat in July because you’re cold,” Steven said.
Grey put his finger beside his nose and gave a subtle nod.
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