Pieces

By: Naught Posted on: March 31, 2013

Thunderheads marched over the Aureliana forest.

Bruise-purple, swirling with life

And the spark of all things.

With soft footfalls, the Mhun ghosted along the game path. The wet ringmail she wore made her want to shiver, but a firm grip on her blade, Seven Moons, steeled her body to composure. Closing her eyes and feeling the hilt, the Mhun felt as if she could make the blade come to life in fire if she were truly desperate. All she needed to do was reach out...

A flash of light illuminated the grove around her for a brief moment, forcing her dark-accustomed eyes to squint. In an instant, the leaves glistened wetly and the shadows fled from her. Thunder echoed above, sending the forest animals scurrying to their warrens. Her concentration broken, the young Mhun pressed on through the late afternoon rain, which cast the sky in a surreal light. As she emerged from the woods, the torches of the inn caught her eye and she nearly stumbled in her rush towards the shelter.

Composing herself as she stepped through the open door, the Mhun hung her butterfly net beside the gleaming tridents and fishing poles near the entrance. The cacophony of the common room met her at the same time as the warmth of the hearth. Glasses clinked, accompanied by boasts at one table, a pair of Xoran smoked near the fire, and a bard's lute attempted to rise above the merriment of the room. Giving herself a quick, unsatisfying glance in the mirror behind the bar, the Mhun smoothed her rain-soaked hair and began to remove her muddy boots. She felt worn down and soggy, as though she had been wet for days. Setting the boots by the door, she noticed the layers of pale desert sand under the rusty mountain dirt, which had all been covered by the soft forest earth. The thought of the journey reminded her of the weariness in her legs and she touched the slight bulge in her backpack assured her that her work had been rewarded. Her hand moved back to rest on the pommel of Seven Moons in its sheath and she drew strength from the blade.

"Melina, dear, come sit." A gruff voice called, clear despite the racket of the room.

The Mhun followed the sound to a small table, upon which sat a magnificent oak and walnut chessboard and a pair reading glasses. An old man reclined opposite an empty chair, his space pushed a comfortable distance away from the other guests. Wispy white hair contrasted bushy eyebrows on a face as wrinkled as the crude map stuffed into Melina's pocket. He had a doughy frame, his stomach falling over the richly embroidered sheathe laid across his lap. The old man's hazy gray eyes rested on her pack, unwavering.

"Have you brought it for me, then?" he asked, his voice quieter now. They were beyond formalities. Opening a pocket in her pack, Melina revealed what appeared to be a heavy wooden knob, yet expertly polished, with felt on its flat bottom and tapering to a sphere at the top. She had encountered more than a handful of new and dangerous beasts on the path to acquire the piece, and gotten lost more often than she preferred to admit due to the old man's scribbled map.

"Gods give you grace, Melina," the old man said, embracing her outstretched hand. "Now your lessons may continue." From a felt-lined box the old man took out two sets of pieces, one dark and one light and began setting the chessboard. Melina felt her grip tighten on Seven Moons and a vein throbbing in her forehead.

"I trekked for a month and a half to get your chess piece?" she blurted out.

"Not any piece," he said, placing each piece on its proper tile. "One of my pawns."

"Even worse! You know a mountain grizzly nearly took off my left arm!" she said, louder than she intended. "I thought I had retrieved some magical artifact for you! How will this help me--"

"Control, dear," the old man replied. He had finished setting the board and gestured her over to her side. Melina sat, attempting to say with here eyes what he had interrupted her from saying with her words.

He motioned for her to begin with an aged hand and for a moment, she noticed black and purple shadows dance across his eyes. She felt a pang of jealousy and anger towards herself for not being able to reach the void so easily.

With her first move, she pushed her pawn forward to control the center.

"A general who does not take care of his foot soldiers will not remain in command long," the man began, countering with his push for the middle. "Thank the Gods Maya remembered that when the time came--even the meekest beings may affect the pillars of Sapience."

Melina restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Another vague reference to some parable in history she had never witnessed. The old man's talk distracted her from the game As she built up her defenses, the barkeep brought out a plate heavy with sweet potato pie and a juicy goose drumstick. Her stomach nagged at her. She could not decide if her mentor wanted to distract her thoughts from the game with the food, or if he wanted to see how stubborn and angry she was.

"If I do not care for my body, my mind will suffer," she said, moving her knight forward and then reaching for the drumstick.

The old man's eyes twinkled as he surveyed the board, her light army strong in the center and his darker army arrayed on the flanks.

"Each must know what role to play if their cause is to succeed. Even the most noble of knights must understand that he cannot sacrifice himself to avenge a mere pawn, and he must let his intelligence rule over his honor." The old man drummed his hands on the scabbard in his lap as he spoke, but his moves were quick to counter hers, pressuring her to move more quickly. His knight refused to fall for the bait she had set out, but the old man was still down a pawn.

She set out another trap for the charging knight, shuffling a weak pawn forward, and this time he took it. With a wicked grin Melina swept the knight away with her queen. She surveyed the board as a general looks down on a battle, looking for weakness on either side and watching a hundred scenarios play themselves out in her mind. Melina felt that if she could just focus, she would be able to predict his move and beat him for the first time. She envisioned his best move and saw his gaze focus on her weak right front.

The fallen pieces lined the side of the board, wooden faces turned to watch the battle unfold. More would join them before the clash was decided, but each made a necessary contribution to the ending.

Thunder shook the loose shutters on the windows, ending all conversations in the room. The humgii pulled its leash towards the corner, visibly shaking.

"These are the times that make even the most skeptical tremble at the sight of a shrine," the old man began, his bishop clearing away an undefended pawn. "As the Gods held council in the Garden, their rumblings shook our skies and set the people to a boil of confusion and fear."

She let him finish before she sharked her queen past his lines and set another trophy on her side of the table, a fallen pawn.

"On his own, the Worldreaver could not be taken," he continued, wringing his calloused hands as he thought. "He threw down God and mortal alike, until all put aside their separate causes and took up banners against him."

His hand trembled ever so slightly as he charged another of her pawns with his remaining knight.

Melinda had seen the battle lines forming, she had predicted each of his reactions to the point where she did not need to check the board again. She moved quickly, her dominant queen knocking the knight out of the game and strengthening her center. She was now four pieces his superior, her unchecked queen had populated the sideline with his pieces.

Another lightning bolt flashed in the open door and its crashing noise sent the other patrons flinching. Melina did not look away, her gaze fixed square on the old Blademaster's face as he made his move--pushing a pawn on the flanks up to where it threatened her queen.

"It took the combined effort of all to throw him down, from the powerful to the humble. Maya's sacrifice was not the only one made to defeat Bal'met. Others lost lives, joined with enemies in common cause, and convened meetings to brainstorm solutions."

Melina felt her palms turn to fire and then ice as she looked at the board, knowing she was not demonstrating control. Both the old man's and her own pieces hedged in the queen to where it could not retreat. Not only did the pawn threaten her queen, but it had opened the diagonal between his bishop and her king. She could do nothing but retreat with the king and leave her queen to its fate. She was reminded of Selene's sacrifice of Her own life in order to keep Her beloved Lupus from the Worldreaver's clutches.

The old man did not show pleasure as he captured her Queen with his pawn, and she saw her center had become hopelessly weak.

"These are the times when dragons are born from the mist," he continued as they traded petty pieces. "When sieges are won or lost and the brave either carve their names into the books or find and embrace Thoth."

"And when I can beat you at chess, I will better understand how to reach the void and become one of them," she finished for him, knowing that all his lectures led to the same place.

"When you beat me at chess, you will simply have won a game," the old man replied. "When the thunder truly rings, and all that stands with you is Seven Moons and your mind, that is when you will decide what you are to become."

The old man paused to watch the rain. His fingers brushed along the taken pieces lining the chessboard. Melina sat, ashamed of what she had said to the patient old Blademaster who sat across from her.

"The Great Mother and the Worldreaver remind us that we will all fall, as they did," he began, his voice crisp, rising over the noise of the inn. "Each of us must choose what we will become before our time passes." He pushed his chair back, so that he was up against the wall and away from the door. His last move had trapped her king between two dark rooks and a hovering bishop.

"Selene will be honored for the beauty and love that She spread in Her wake. Matsuhama will be remembered for the way He would grin and roar as He entered a melee, dreadlocks shifting with His graceful stride and a gruesome mace in hand. Both fell to Bal'met, but that does not define them. Your end will not define you. What you do here and now will." The old man took her hand and she felt the warmth of his palms, but also the feebleness of his grip.

"What are you asking of me? I've only just gotten back from that journey," she said.

"Go, Melina. Remember the strength that is yours," the old man replied, pushing her hands gently from his and moving to the corner.

"What do you--"

The crack of thunder seemed to be a dozen boulders tumbling down a mountainside, drowning out her voice. It had come at the same instant as the flash of lightning, and suddenly the entire inn was on its feet and moving. Turning back to ask what to do, Melina found the old man was gone, their chess game abandoned on the table. Stepping into her boots, Melina jogged out to the road to look for him and to see if the storm had any signs of letting up. Amaranthine clouds churned above, twisted by winds that carried the scent of burnt bark to where she stood. Looking over the canopy of the forest, her eyes widened. Gray and black smoke rose from the trees in billows as the Aureliana burned just beyond the inn. With growing horror, she watched as the smoke clouds grew wider and the leaping tops of the flames became visible.

In the confusion, the inn had emptied, with most occupants gazing at the destruction just as she was. Others arrived on the road and sprung into action. A green-cloaked Tsol'aa lowered his head and was surrounding by a blazing light that faded immediately, leaving behind an eagle, already flying straight towards the smoke to defend the forest. A slender woman in robes gestured at the edge of the road and chanted. As Melina watched, trickles of frost gave way to walls of ice which sought to trap the fire. Another traveler chanted and raised his staff to the clouds, signaling for more healing rain to drive away the fire. Some travelers simply sped up and continued on their way, while others skulked off into the shadows of the forest.

Melina's hands grasped uselessly at the air around her. The fire continued to spread and yet here she stood. She took a step back, allowing herself to see the entire scene unfolding in front of her. What could she do? The inn was constructed mainly from the wood of the forest and would surely ignite in a heartbeat if the fire continued unchecked. She had crossed over a creek on her way to the inn, but it was on the eastern side and would provide no defense against the creeping flames. Beside the inn sat packs, furs, fishing supplies, animal traps, and more tools than she could find a use for.

The old man's words rang in her head: Each of us must choose what we will become before our time passes.

She ran to the side of the inn and found a stack of fishing buckets. Tossing an octopus limb out from the top bucket, she grabbed the large stack and sent it clanging into the road in front of the others who sat watching.

"Come on, you lot! The river's that way!" In one smooth movement she unsheathed Seven Moons and pointed east.

For a moment the group in the road was struck dumb. Buckets laid at their feet and a fire rose before them, sending ripples of red and orange down the length of the Mhun's blade. Selina felt her palms go hot--she wanted to embrace the flame and yell to stir them into acting out of fear of her retribution. A look into the foremost man's frightened eyes brought her back from her ill temper. She held her anger and let it exhale from her and into the air. She felt ice in her veins and cool control as she took a step towards the river. Icicles formed on the razor edge of Seven Moons.

Melina's voice was low. "They cannot do this by themselves," she said.

As she left for the river, Melina heard the noise of gravel scraping tin as the buckets were picked up, and of leather treading on dirt as they followed her.