Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

man only inches from the back edge of the square.

A final blow ended the battle. Spectators applauded as the pawn stumbled backward, not only stepping out of bounds but also falling on his back. It was as clean a victory as any. Clean and without any bloodshed. Toos was aware that some of his guests would have liked to have seen blood, but that was not the point of the game. Anyone exhibiting more than a little fondness for what little blood was spilled was not invited back for quite some time. Most learned from that. To earn the regent’s disfavor was something few desired.

Kyl was considering his next move. Toos leaned forward and whispered, “Beware Andrean’s bishops. He likes to put them into play fairly quickly. Likely when he does, he’ll go for your knight using both of them.”

A slight nod was all he received in response from the young drake. Kyl already understood just how unorthodox the baron’s playing was and appreciated his host’s guidance. However, how the drake chose to counter the move was entirely up to the emperor-to-be himself.

With his part done for now, the tall, narrow regent studied the assembled guests. Still nothing out of the ordinary, but the same sense of uneasiness that had allowed him to survive decades of mercenary work insisted that something was amiss. Kyl glanced at the Green Dragon, who stood off to one side with the draconian sentries. The Dragon King had them spread out and ready for immediate action. There had been room enough for them behind the heir, but the Dragon King had insisted that they would be of more use out in the open, where they could better watch over the entire area. As it was, the two bodyguards who always accompanied Kyl stood behind both the heir and the regent. Toos, who was a good judge of warriors, thought they looked capable enough, if somewhat distant. But then, they’re drakes, aren’t they, Toos? You know them only from across the battlefield, not from the same side. It was strange to have drakes at his back, but the regent’s own bodyguards also stood behind the master of Penacles and his guest. Toos had the utmost confidence in his own soldiers; they had ways of dealing quickly with treacherous drakes.

And Toos had a few tricks of his own.

A disturbance near the entrance caught his attention. He turned to see Grath and Benjin Traske. The scholar tried to hide it, but it was clear to the trained eye of the former mercenary that he was upset about something. Even if Traske’s face and form had not indicated anxiety, Grath’s own evident nervousness was enough to garner the regent’s concern.

Time passed, the game went on, and still nothing happened. Toos wondered whether the danger was all in his mind, but whenever he looked around, he felt somehow vindicated in his beliefs. Grath, the Green Dragon, Traske . . . wherever he looked, the regent found faces whose concern matched his own. It was as if they were all waiting for something to happen, something that should have happened by this time.

Kyl hissed. The wary general shifted his gaze immediately to the heir, but the drake’s reaction was at the loss of a valuable piece and not because of any danger. Kyl glanced his way. “If hisss championsss can defeat my king, I am lossst!”

Pulling his thoughts back to the game, Toos saw that his royal guest’s summation was correct. Andrean had two men, a knight and a rook, in position. Another rook stood nearby. All the baron had to do was give the command, and that piece would put the drake’s king into checkmate. Kyl’s man would then have to fight each piece until he had either defeated all three or had fallen to one of them. Sizing the soldiers up, Toos was willing to give the heir’s man one, maybe two combats, but fatigue would prevent him from salvaging the game for his player.

Kyl’s king carried shield and mace and knew well the advantages and disadvantages of each. As Baron Andrean commanded his second rook forward, the champion readied himself. Under the rules that Toos had formulated, Andrean could choose any of the three with which to begin. Kyl’s man had already positioned himself so as to face the knight. Toos nodded; it was the same opponent that he would have chosen. To the regent’s amused surprise, however, Kyl’s adversary chose instead to use his first rook, the least of his three champions. There were a few murmurs in the crowd, but most did not comprehend what Andrean was doing. The regent did, and the knowledge brought the shadow of a smile to his foxlike features. Andrean, very much the politician, was giving his opponent as much aid as he possibly could. The game was already his, but if Kyl’s man could defeat at least one rival, then so much the better for the heir’s showing. The closer the game appeared to be, the better the dragon heir would feel.

Weapons clanged as the rook took on the king. Champions were ofttimes given the option of choosing their own weapons, and so this was a battle of mace against scepter, the latter in reality simply a more elaborate mace. Both men struck hard at the shields, each hoping to knock the other’s defense away or at least open a hole. People cheered, and not a few bets were placed on the outcome. As an old soldier, Toos had no qualms about betting as long as it was kept under certain limitations. Now and then he liked to make a bet himself. The years had given him a practiced eye when it came to the art of war.

The rook tried to get his mace under the king’s shield in order to lift the latter away, but the drake’s champion turned the trick against the younger soldier, pushing down with his full mass. The rook’s grip loosened on the mace as the weapon was pulled down. Wasting no precious time, the king struck with his own weapon, almost getting around the other’s shield. His opponent struggled to free his mace even as the king attacked again, but the elder champion would not permit that. Changing tactics, Kyl’s man suddenly turned his assault from the rook’s shield to the imprisoned mace, bringing his scepter down on it.

Several people gasped, thinking that the king intended to crush the hand of his opponent, a move that Toos would have condemned. The general, however, understood what the champion was doing. As the mace came down, the rook, obviously stunned by what he thought was happening, pulled his hand back as if bitten. The mace continued to come down, but midway it suddenly shifted. Instead of striking where his adversary’s hand would have been, the king brought his scepter down on the upper shaft of the other mace. Had the rook realized that his hand had never been in danger, he could have used that moment to seize the wrist of Kyl’s champion and possibly balance out the odds. As it was, the rook was now weaponless. The king knocked the loose mace far away and wasted no time pressing his attack. The bout ended but seconds later, to the sounds of great cheering.

Kyl was hissing, but Toos recognized his reaction as one of extreme pleasure. The heir had half-risen out of his chair, the better to view the battle. As Andrean’s knight stepped forward, the young drake rose more. A slight frown escaped the regent; he hoped that the heir was not given to bloodlust like some drakes. Toos looked around for Grath and discovered that neither he nor the scholar had moved from the doorway. Unlike Kyl, the younger drake still appeared more apprehensive than anything else. He was glad to see that Kyl’s brother, at least, was not given to bloodlust, but he also wondered what worried Grath so. When the opportunity presented itself, the general intended to talk to the lad about it. Perhaps doing so would clear up some of his own mysterious anxieties.

“Thisss one will be much clossser!” remarked the dragon heir to his host.

Forcing himself back into the game, Toos agreed. “You must be prepared to accept it if your champion loses, Lord Kyl. The knight’s very skilled.”

“I am prepared, General. I do not give up hope jussst yet, though. If I lossse, I lossse; if victory isss sssalvaged, ssso much the better.”

The statement pleased Toos, more because of the way it was said. Kyl’s tone indicated he meant every word. Perhaps I’ve misjudged him. He might be more level-headed than I thought.

His attention was again diverted, this time by the Green Dragon, who signaled to Grath and Benjin Traske to join him. The Dragon King had a goblet in one hand, though, and when he shifted position, the better for those he was signaling to see him, the hand with the goblet bumped against one of his guards.

The goblet slipped from his hand, its contents spilling on the floor. The draconian soldiers nearest to him converged on the fallen cup.

Snapping his fingers, the regent summoned one of his own men. The man saluted and waited for orders. Toos pointed at the huddled figures. “Get someone over there now. His Lordship might need something to clean himself off with. Make certain not a spot remains and give the Dragon King whatever other aid he desires.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kyl, still standing, had not noticed what was happening. His own attention was fixed on the two combatants. Toos blinked. He could not even recall the beginning of the bout, but the drake’s champion and Vergoth’s man had obviously already been at it for several seconds. The skill of the knight was already telling, however, for Kyl’s king was beginning to lose ground. The general scratched his long, narrow chin. He had expected better of the king,