Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

stared hard at the massive tutor and finally had to ask, “Are you well, Benjin?”

“I have always believed in maintaining both the mind and the body, Lord Bedlam.”

“So I see now.” He shook his head. With a minor spell, the sorcerer could have reinvigorated himself easily, but like Talak, Penacles had its special defenses. Some remained from the days when the Dragon King Purple had ruled, and others from the reign of the Gryphon, but there were also a vast number of new spells protecting the city, placed there at the regent’s request.

Toos looked over his guests. “If we’re all ready to continue, I’ve planned some food and entertainment. Lord Kyl, have you ever witnessed a living chess game before?”

The young drake’s eyes were wide with curiosity. “I mussst sssay that I have certainly not.” He glanced down at his brother, who shook his head in equal confusion.

“Then I think that you have a treat awaiting you. If you’ll all follow me?”

Penacles had been at peace for years, their neighbor to the east, mist-enshrouded Lochivar, having been quiet since the Gryphon had nearly dealt its master, the Black Dragon, a mortal blow. The darksome lord of the Grey Mists still lived and ruled, but it was said that he could barely speak and that his powers were waning.

That meant that Penacles had an army that trained and trained, but had no enemy to fight. While Toos looked forward to peace as much as most other folk did, he believed in maintaining a strong force. One never knew when times might change. Therefore, it had behooved him to find some way in which his men could keep their skills paramount.

War games had solved that problem, at least where his soldiers were concerned. Each month, various units would maneuver against one another in the nearby hills and valleys. Men who excelled in skill and ingenuity were rewarded. The soldiers also kept wary, for it was possible to be injured. Officers worked to see that such injuries happened as rarely as was possible, though.

Yes, Toos had solved the problem of keeping his men at their best, but he could hardly join them on the field, however much he would have wanted to do so. There was the risk that something might happen to him, either by accident or due to some assassin. No ruler who desired to survive dared believe that there was not an assassin lurking nearby. Simply because the Black Dragon had made no new assaults on the kingdom in years did not mean that he had withdrawn his spies.

From his long years as the Gryphon’s second, the vulpine soldier had picked up a fondness for chess, especially its constant demand for reevaluating one’s strategy. Simple chess had been sufficient for some time, but then, while visiting the magical libraries of Penacles with the Gryphon, the bored regent had commented on his need for something further.

“To my surprise,” Toos said to his guests as he considered his next move, “the gnome spoke up.”

The libraries of Penacles were a magical wonder dating back possibly beyond the present city. No one knew much about them save that they were larger than should have been physically possible, some corridors stretching for what seemed miles underground, yet apparently movable, and accessible only through a wondrous tapestry hidden in the palace.

The libraries also had a librarian . . . or perhaps many, although if the latter was the case, then all of them were identical in form. For as long as either Toos or the Gryphon could recall, they had always been served by a small, squat, completely hairless gnome wearing a robe much like that of a mage. All one had to do was tell the gnome what one was searching for and the odd little figure would locate it. Rarely, however, did the gnome offer words of advice.

Toos made his move and continued. “He suggested a field, a life-sized board, and living champions to do combat. I scoffed at the idea at first, but . . .” The general indicated the area just before them. “You see what I’ve done.”

In what had once been a small arena where human slaves had fought for the personal amusement of the Dragon King, there was now a black-and-white pattern of squares, each approximately three feet by three feet. There were viewing boxes on each end of the board, providing seating for perhaps two dozen people apiece.

On the board, or sitting off to the sides, were soldiers clad in armor representing the various pieces in the game. These were the game’s living chessmen . . . and women, too, since not only did each side need a queen, but female soldiers had been a part of the army of Penacles since the days of the Gryphon’s reign.

Cabe took his mind off of the game to observe the lionbird himself, who was the general’s opponent. The first time the warlock had been invited to witness the tournament, he had come fearing that the regent had finally fallen prey to his power and had become a decadent tyrant. However, after watching the game and learning the rules behind it, he had come to enjoy it himself.

The chessmen were volunteers. Over the years, it had become a bit of prestige to be a combatant in the chess tournament. Unlike the true board game, a chess piece was not removed simply because another piece had captured it. Instead, the two warriors had to duel, utilizing their skills while remaining within the two squares involved. Fighters were removed if they lost or if they attempted to truly wound their adversaries. It had become a matter of honor for most soldiers involved to win as cleanly as possible, as the best were often chosen for a place in the royal guard.

At the moment, Toos was in grave danger. His rook, his last line of defense against the Gryphon, had just fallen in combat against the other’s knight. The rook, a man armed with a mace and shield, had been disarmed by the knight, an armored figure also using a shield, but instead of a mace had wielded a broadsword.

“I knew that would happen,” the regent muttered. “Luck of the draw! He’s current champion among the champions!”

The game ended three combats later. The rule involving checkmate particularly fascinated Cabe. First the player would have to assure that his opponent’s king had no escape. That was the same as a normal game of chess. However, in the general’s variation, the checking pieces then had to do battle with the beleaguered monarch. It was possible for the king to free himself from checkmate if he could eliminate every opponent involved, but he had to fight all of them; he could not move to safety after defeating the first adversary.

The drakes, especially Kyl and Grath, were eager to direct the game themselves. The Dragon King had already played on one or two of his previous visits, so he offered to stand aside and let brother go against brother. Toos repeated the differences in the rules from normal chess, then chose their pieces for them. Chessmen were always chosen by lottery, so that no player could ever come to trust too much in his warriors. It made for a more balanced game and, in fact, after the countless battles the Gryphon and Toos had played, the lionbird was up by only seven victories. Of course, if there were ever two opponents who knew how one another thought, it was the two former mercenaries.

While the regent guided Kyl and the Green Dragon, who had always had a fondness for the human game, coached Grath, the Gryphon made his way back to where Cabe and Benjin Traske sat watching the opening moves. As usual, Faras and Ssgayn took up a spot near the dragon heir, which made for some crowding as the general’s own guards insisted on watching the drakes.

“They will be quite occupied with this game,” the Gryphon commented as he joined the two humans. “This might be a good time to visit the libraries.”

“For what reason?”

“I’m doing some research, trying to see if I finally understand some of the methods by which the libraries pass on information. I’m certain now that long ago something happened that distorted the original function of the place. I thought that I might save my next visit for when you were here. Do you wish to come?”

“I’d be a fool to say no.” As the Manor was the warlock’s pet project, so were the libraries the Gryphon’s. Both researchers had achieved about the same amount of success so far . . . meaning very little. If the lionbird had finally made progress, Cabe wanted to see it for himself.

“Good!” The Gryphon paused, then eyed Traske. “Benjin, you’ve never been in the libraries before, have you?”

“No, my lord.”

“You haven’t?” That startled Cabe. “After all these years?”

“I blame Toos for that!” The former monarch of Penacles shook his head. “Toos has never trusted the libraries . . . and who can blame him? You and I were virtually the only ones he would allow to enter until fairly