I think so. It’s barely hanging on though. If I go for it, it might fall.
A shiver passed through Steven’s body. That cannot happen. Do you understand? The pouch may not look like much, but it’s all you’ve got. Now, can you reach it or not?
After another pause, Audrey answered, her tone a bit sullener than before. I can reach it.
Her feelings were bruised, but this wasn’t the time for apologies.
Okay. Grab the pouch, open it, and reach inside. Within the pouch rests something for you and you alone. I can’t explain, but if you can get to it, everything will turn out fine. I promise. For the second time, Steven prayed he wasn’t lying to the girl. Are you ready?
A pause. Ready.
Her momentary hesitation spoke volumes, yet the sheer composure the dying girl displayed was already more than Steven could believe. He swallowed hard and then in the most confident tone he could summon, sent out one last thought. All right. Do it.
Steven spent the ensuing seconds cursing his ever-active imagination. What if she can’t reach it? What if it falls? What if she falls? What if—
I’ve got it Steven. I’ve got it.
Great, now open—
Oh Steven, I can hear it. It’s singing to me. It’s singing. So beautiful. So—
Silence.
Audrey?
Answered only with a buzzing in his mind reminiscent of the static between radio stations, Steven sat and brooded alone in the pitch black forest. He briefly cast his mind back to the other fight, only to find Emilio and his seven Pawn brethren in retreat. His own eyes slid shut as his mind’s eye skipped from one doppelganger to another, their fear the only constant.
The conflict had moved out of the burning house and into the adjoining woods, much to the Queen’s advantage. Three of the seven Pawns were down, two of them weaponless and burned and the third unconscious with a cruel gash across his unprotected scalp. Emilio looked exhausted, his axe growing slower with each wide swing while the Queen appeared fresh and perhaps even a bit bored.
I guess our luck couldn’t hold out forever. Steven focused his attention on the Pawn closest to Emilio, resolving to stay by his side at least by proxy until the end. He watched from every angle as the courageous young man on the gleaming motorcycle parried burst after burst of black flame, the Queen’s attacks barely visible in the darkening twilight.
Just when it seemed Emilio couldn’t hold out any longer, Steven’s connection to the battle was interrupted by the sound of horse’s hooves. A pale radiance filled the darkness beneath the forest’s summer canopy, the quiet clip-clop continuing its slow crescendo as the forest grew brighter with each passing second.
Amaryllis remained still as Steven crouched behind the fallen oak. He scanned the ground for anything that might serve as a weapon, but a thick mist playing about his feet and ankles obscured his view. His groping hands seized upon a stone large enough to serve as a crude club. Holding it to his chest, he waited for the mounted stranger to grow close enough to strike.
“Don’t worry, Steven.” New to his ears, yet as familiar as his favorite song, the dulcet tones of the rider’s voice filled Steven’s heart with joy. “You won’t be needing that.”
Smiling despite the pain, Steven dropped the stone and rose to face the radiant young woman on the midnight steed. “Welcome back, Audrey.”
21
Queen
She’s beautiful…
Steven stared dumbfounded at the vision in white atop the samurai’s dark stallion. Arrayed in a full ivory gown that shimmered silver and white in the darkness, Audrey’s long legs draped gracefully sidesaddle along the horse’s flank. She returned Steven’s gaze, her broad smile at odds with the tears streaming down her face.
No evidence remained of the dying girl he had held in his arms minutes before. Gaunt, hollow cheeks were now full and flushed, vacant eyes now vibrant and aware, and her hairless scalp now boasted long auburn tresses that framed her faintly freckled face. The iridescent light of the Queen icon in her hand glistened off the silver and gold threads of the gown’s samite bodice and danced between her eyes, those hazel eyes that held Steven transfixed as Audrey dismounted the anxious steed.
“You’re… all right?” Steven asked.
“I think I’m a lot better than all right.” Audrey swept her arms downward and bit her lip, cocking her head to one side. “I mean, look at me.”
No problem. “So how did you—”
“No time for that now.” Audrey wiped the tears from her flushed face. “We need to go help your friends.”
In that moment, Steven knew. He wasn’t sure what he knew, but he found himself filled with a sense of clarity and hope he hadn’t experienced in months.
“So,” Audrey asked. “This is uncharted territory for me. What do we do now?”
Steven closed his eyes, his face breaking into a subtle smile.
“Give me the pouch,” he said. “If our luck holds out, we might still be able to pull this whole thing out of the fire.”
Steven and Audrey’s jaunt landed them just inside the front door of the Richards family home, the once noble manse a charred ruin. The ebon flames that had raged throughout the edifice now smoldered in the Black Queen’s absence, ephemeral servants awaiting the return of their dark mistress. Thick, black smoke obscured every room, forcing Steven and Audrey to stay low as they felt their way down the inscrutable hallway leading to Audrey’s bedroom.
As Steven had seen through the eyes of the other Pawns, the fight had indeed moved outside, leaving the bedroom a smoking ember. Taking positions on either side of the gaping hole left in the wall by Lena’s mace, the pair stared out into the darkness at the veiled battle waged mere feet away. The scant light of the rising crescent moon, punctuated by the occasional glint of silver off the weapons of the White, illuminated this latest skirmish in a conflict that had lasted centuries.
Steven cast his consciousness among the other Pawns, his stomach cramping as the full gravity of their situation became clear.
The Black Queen stood triumphant over Emilio’s battered form, her expression vacillating between enjoyment and annoyance as she fended off the advances of the three Pawns still able to raise arms. Emilio, his leg pinned beneath his overturned motorcycle, gritted his teeth in pain as he struggled to free his foot from the bike’s dead weight. Though surrounded in flame, he remained untouched, the momentary distraction of the Pawns’ renewed assault all that stood between him and fiery death.
“Even now, she’s toying with them,” Steven whispered. “What are we going to do when she finally cuts loose?”
“That’ll be up to me, I guess.” Audrey’s tone was resolute, but Steven couldn’t help but notice the underlying tremor in her voice. “Your friends aren’t going to last much longer and that psycho bitch doesn’t strike me as the type who takes prisoners. Any ideas?”
“I’m thinking. Whatever it is, we need to do it fast or… Oh God. Lena.”
The spear-axe tips of a pair of the Pawns’ pikes collided in midair above the Queen’s head in a flash of silver. The resultant arc of energy lit up the forest like midday, the split-second flash revealing the answer to a question Steven had been too terrified to ask.
Thirty or so yards from the house, Lena’s limp form lay sprawled like a discarded marionette against the base of a large pine, her neck turned at a queer angle. Steven balled up a fist and punched the smoking drywall.
“What is it?” Audrey peered out into the darkness, turning her eyes away as another flash illuminated Lena’s crumpled form. “Oh my God. That girl. Is she—”
“No.” Steven gathered up the shield and pike recovered from the smoke-filled hallway. “Listen, Audrey. I’ve got to go check on Lena. No matter what happens, stay here.” The subtle glow of Steven’s shield revealed the fear in both their eyes. “Not a sound, understand? Stay put, and if the Queen discovers you, run.”
Audrey’s brow furrowed in frustration, but her simple nod was al
l Steven needed to see. He brought the shield around to cover his flank and leaped through the remnants of the bay window, grunting as he landed hard on his turned ankle.
“Are you all right?” Audrey whispered from above.
“I’m fine. Now stay out of sight. I’ll be right back.” Keeping one eye on Lena and the other on the Queen, Steven felt his way across the uneven ground and limped to the girl’s side.
“Lena?” Steven whispered into the girl’s ear, gently shaking her shoulders. “Lena?” He placed two fingers beneath the corner of her jaw like he had seen on countless medical dramas and managed to find the girl’s pulse. Far too fast and far too weak, but a pulse nonetheless.
He peered back at the jagged grimace the girl lying before him had left in the house’s brick facade. Audrey had stayed hidden as asked. Steven attempted to broadcast the words she’s alive over whatever mental frequency he and the new Queen shared minutes before. His mental whisper met with silence, he turned his attention back to the task at hand.
Memories from an old first aid class reminded Steven moving someone as badly injured as Lena could do more harm than good. Still, leaving her there wasn’t an option. He knelt to scoop up the girl’s twisted form and her chest rose and fell against his. That, along with the gentle warmth of her breath on his neck gave him no small measure of relief. He positioned the back of her head in the crook of his elbow and prayed his decision to move her wouldn’t leave her paralyzed or worse.
Getting his legs beneath him, Steven edged his shoulder over to the gnarled tree and using its mass for support, came to his feet. With Lena cradled in his arms, he turned to head back toward the house when he noticed the battlefield had grown strangely quiet. The quiescent pain in his abdomen flared even as a flurry of metallic taps at his collarbone from Amaryllis let him know something had gone horribly wrong. Before he could take another breath, a familiar, mocking voice shattered the silence.
“Such a tender young thing. No business being out here among the big kids.”
Steven whirled around to find the Black Queen floating in the air behind him, her feet resting on a dais of black energy in the shape of a diamond. She looked on Lena, her mercurial mien dancing between false pity and amusement.
“So, Steven,” the Queen asked in singsong fashion, “where is the girl?” Steven kept his eyes fastened on the Queen’s, afraid even a flicker of his gaze might reveal his entire hand.
“Don’t play games with me, Your Highness. You know good and well your Knight has her.” Steven labored to keep any emotion from his face. “What are you going to do to her?”
The Queen peered down at Steven, the corners of her mouth turned down in a petulant frown. “I’m not the one playing games here, little Pawn. I lost contact with my Knight some time ago, though I’m guessing you know far more about that than you’re letting on.” She aimed the scepter’s tip at Steven’s head. “Enough with the distractions. Where is the girl?”
“I’m right here.” A blinding white light emanated from the shattered bay window, illuminating the forest like a hunk of burning magnesium. An opaque white mist cascaded from every orifice of the burned-out building, spilling out onto the ground and covering the surrounding terrain in an impenetrable fog. Through clenched eyes, Steven could just make out the silhouette of a woman within the brilliant nimbus of silver incandescence.
Her hands, the focus of the blinding light, were clasped before her chest as if in prayer.
“Why do you waste your time with my Pawn and this wounded girl?” Audrey floated down from the gouge in the side of the house, her glistening gown billowing in the gentle breeze of the fledgling night. “If memory serves, you came here for me.”
Her newly robust voice confident and mature, Audrey lit amid the gathering mist and brought the glowing icon to her brow. The four-inch piece of carved marble disappeared, replaced in an instant by a tiara of burnished silver and platinum.
The Black Queen seethed. “So, Steven, my Knight has failed and you have your Queen.” Upon her dais of dark energy, the Black Queen’s face drew down to a pensive moue. “Irrelevant. The girl is but a novice, your Knight lies trapped beneath a pile of twisted steel and chrome, and the remnants of your Pawn brethren lie strewn across the battlefield. Your cause is lost.”
The corners of her mouth spread wide. The selfsame smile two nights before had filled Steven with a completely different emotion.
“You know, lady, you really need to learn when to shut up.”
Steven and the Black Queen spun in the direction of the voice. His pearl and chrome steed roaring to life, Emilio leveled the lance’s glowing tip at the Black Queen’s midsection.
“How?” The Queen’s eyes were wide in disbelief.
“Quick learner, I guess.” Emilio gunned the engine and the rear wheel kicked up a spray of forest floor as Rocinante rocketed at the Queen. In retaliation, the Queen thrust her scepter at Emilio and a wall of dark flame spewed from its serpentine mouth.
Undeterred, Emilio punched the accelerator and headed straight for the heart of the dark conflagration. As the tip of the lance pierced the blazing barrier, however, the bike and its rider disappeared in a flash of silver only to reappear an instant later on their adversary’s left flank and coming fast.
With no time to think and less to act, the Queen bolted from her platform of darkness, her usual poise a distant memory. She dove for the forest floor, the lance’s platinum point grazing her side, eliciting a cry of pain that brought an almost guilty smile to Steven’s face. The smile, much like the moment, lasted but a second.
Though winded by the impact, a tangle of brambles broke the Queen’s fall, allowing her to regain her footing before Emilio could circle around for another pass. She took but a moment to check her wounded side before glaring up at Steven with eyes full of pain and rage and hate.
The White Knight’s gambit done, it was the Black Queen’s move.
In the blink of an eye, she was on top of Steven, her movements little more than a blur. She swept Lena from his arms and swung her coiled cudgel at his unprotected head. Steven scarcely registered what was happening before he found himself laid out on the soft pine straw and moss of the forest floor, his head pounding in time with his racing pulse.
Reaching up, his fingers found that the dripping fangs of the scepter’s serpentine head had left their mark, an ugly pair of parallel gashes above his left temple. Hot blood pooling in his ear, Steven looked up into the eyes of his worst nightmare.
The Queen, injured and furious, stood above him, her scepter pointed at his head and Lena’s limp form draped across her shoulder. “The archaic rules of this stupid Game may prevent me from finishing you and your junior Lancelot this night, but this chiquita is nothing but window dressing.” The Queen looked down on Lena’s unconscious face and grinned. “The Game won’t miss her a bit.”
Before Steven could respond, the high whine of Rocinante’s engine approached from across Steven’s shoulder.
“Get your hands off my girl.” Emilio barreled at the Queen, the roar of the engine driving all thought from Steven’s mind. “This is between you and me, bitch.”
“Very well.” The Queen waved her scepter at the oncoming machine like a magician’s wand and the ground beneath the rear wheel erupted in an explosion of black fire, blowing the tire and hurling the rider from his seat. The chrome and ivory beast flipped end over end and came to rest at the Queen’s feet.
Emilio’s flight, on the other hand, came to an abrupt stop as his flailing body collided with the brick of the Richards home. The sickening crunch of impact and the sight of Emilio’s limp form sliding to the ground chilled Steven to the core.
“Quick learner, indeed.” The Queen turned to Steven and put on a face of mocking concern. “You know, I think he might be hurt.” Her hand drifted down to her side, her fingers running along the bloody slash in her dress. “Steven, dear, if and when the boy wakes up, let him know he really should watch where he puts his pointy
little stick. For him, it was but a matter of time, but the girl didn’t have to die.”
At the Queen’s words, the dark shimmer surrounding her scepter grew in intensity. The strange white murk that coursed from the Richardson home played about her feet, a miniature sea of mist.
“Ah. Now your baby Queen wants to enter the fray.” The Queen chuckled as Audrey glided across the clearing atop a lake of billowing white mist. “How predictably sad. You’re all making this far too easy.”
“Put the girl down.” Possessed of a confidence beyond her years, Audrey’s voice cut through the night. “You came here for me, not for her. Let’s finish this.”
“Do all of you have the same stupid death wish? No fairy godfather is coming to bail you out this time. No more hidden pieces to bring up from the back row to pull your asses out of the fire. Your Knight can’t help you now, and this,” she pointed a taloned finger at Steven, “this joke has already outlived any usefulness he might have once possessed. I hope you’re ready, little girl, because it’s down to you and me.”
Audrey studied the ground at her feet for a moment and then raised her head to meet her opposite’s gaze. “Are you done talking?”
The Queen gave no reply, her only response a subtle flick of the wrist that brought the scepter’s serpentine eyes to life. In answer to her silent command, eight plumes of fire jetted from the ground around Audrey’s feet, radiating outward like the petals of some dark flower. The eight sheets of flame rose about the White Queen, the fiery bloom blossoming in reverse, growing tighter and tighter until the girl’s glowing form was enveloped in darkness.
“No,” Steven cried. “Not her.”
“Stop your blubbering.” No more concerned than if she had swatted away an irritating gnat, the Queen returned her full attention to Steven. “Did you even dare to hope this evening would end a different way?” The Queen allowed Lena’s lifeless form to slump to the unforgiving ground at her side. “Yet again, Steven, it’s down to just the two of us. Now, are you going to lie there like a good boy, or are you going to force me to finish you as well?”
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