Pieces of the Game: Opening Move

Pieces of the Game

♦ Opening Move ♦

When the Onyx Throne calls
I will be ready to walk the halls
of the enemy like an invisible hand
of that throne itself. For my land
I will take a life
I will give my life
For the Onyx Throne calls

-anonymous shadow agent


          There wasn’t too much blood. At least not as much bleeding as Ultain expected there to be. The blade had missed his vital organs, so he would live. That is, if he didn’t fall down the narrow staircase and dash open his skull on a step. He paused for a minute on a landing, trying to catch his breath and listening for any sounds of pursuit. He had chosen a little used staircase of the lower palace to make his escape when the screaming started. He didn’t want to have to explain why he was trailing one of his body fluids through the Onyx Throne’s halls. So far he hadn’t met anyone as he stumbled down into the restricted common levels. He had also looked back several times during his descent and only saw small scatterings of red drops left in his wake. His wounds pained him fiercely but he dare not look at them. He kept his bundled cape pressed to his side and tried his best to ignore the damage.

          The pain was a small price to pay for his stupidity. He should have known better. He should have kept his senses and not let that fool of a noble provoke him. Even with the rich boy’s toadies’ cutting words battering at him, he was able to grit his teeth and bow his head. Everything would have been fine if the female with the preening buffoon didn’t find Ultain’s demurring to the noble so amusing. How could he continue to back down then? But, no, Ultain knew that he had made a mistake. He could already hear his master’s reproving voice. Ultain, he would say, how many times have I warned you to control your pride? Your role is to serve. Our kind must move in silence, act in silence, and wait in silence when not called upon.

          At least he hadn’t killed the noble. He wasn’t in any danger of dying as long as his hanger-ons got him some medical attention quickly. Ultain had made sure not to pierce the noble too deeply with his dagger. He only wished that the noble’s sword had been used just as deftly. The damned fool nearly decapitated him once or twice. Ultain couldn’t help taunting him when the noble’s swordsmanship was so obviously lacking. It also didn’t help that the dandy was more than seven turns Ultain’s senior, and his friends’ jeers made regarding the age gap, enraged the noble even further. The whole situation was rather ridiculous!

          Ultain allowed himself a wild giggle before he was forced to suppress it with a sharp gasp. It only hurts when I laugh, he thought to himself ruefully. He wished that was truly the case. He quickened his pace as much as his body would permit, and was finally able to reach a landing with access to the Military Quarter. No one that wasn’t in the service of the Onyx Throne was likely to enter there. He finally felt like he could relax at least a little bit.

          The Military Quarter—or the MILK as its inhabitants were wont to call it—was a strange paradoxical mixture of order and disorder. Regular soldiers from almost every division of the Onyx Throne’s forces wandered in small groups horsing about. Some swayed wildly; still high on whatever intoxicant they had taken in at the various play palaces that made a good living off the steady stream out of the MILK. Alternately, there were ranked squads and divisions of ground assault forces that marched silently through the wide avenues that split up the large structures that housed the various forces.

          The loud and playful soldiers on leave were mostly ignored by the others on duty. That was unless they interfered with the marching formations. That was when the Military Quarter Watchers—dubbed MILK Men—seemed to appear to apprehend the offending soldiers. On most occasions the intoxicated men and women went with the MILK Men with little fuss, but there were times when they had to be restrained.

          It was just one of these lively encounters that Ultain weaved deliriously and quite innocently into. One of the MILK Men felt Ultain stumble into her and assumed he was attempting to assault her. She pushed him back with a warning shock from her watch-stick. Ultain’s body moved with a mind of its own. The MILK Man—or woman, in this case—was down on the ground with a broken arm before Ultain knew what he had done.

          He didn’t have time to open his mouth to explain before watch-sticks from every direction shot more voltage through him than his body could handle. The last thing he saw as his sight faded was a helmeted face staring down at him. The last thing he thought as his mind began to shut down was that his master was going to kill him.