by Jack Conner
“Why would a ruler need a successor in a time of peace?”
“To build dynasties, to marry your heir off in order to have greater influence in other lands. I’ve done it before. But once you marry a successor off, he or she is no longer your successor, although he or she does retain some of their original power. So now I must find another, and at the same time not lose face. Unfortunately, a lunatic named Kiernevar has entered the competition.”
“I’m acquainted with him.”
“At first, I thought little of this turn of events, but his abilities have been very surprising ... very unfortunate ... and he’s become something of a problem. Just a short while ago, he defeated his opponent in the second round of chess that will determine my heir. He has only one more game to go, tomorrow night. However, his victories have been so decisive that he’s expected to win again tomorrow.”
“You don’t want him to win.”
“Of course not. He would be a poor king.”
“And an embarrassment.”
“You’re a cynic, Ruegger. You’re right, he would be an embarrassment, but as hard is it may be for you to believe, I actually want what’s best for my kingdom, and Kiernevar is not that.”
“You are.”
“History will be the judge of that. At any rate, I’m a better king than Kiernevar could ever be, but if he wins the next game, he’s in. To prevent this, I have only one option: to choose someone to test his strengths, to go up against him in battle. And, since the battle is chess, I come to you, a chess-player of some renown.”
“You want me to beat him for you.”
“If you can.”
“I haven’t seen him play.”
“He’s good,” Sarnova said. “But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“You seem very confident.”
“I have to be. You’re my only hope.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Freedom, of course. If you agree to go up against Kiernevar, I’ll liberate you, which is more than you deserve. In all fairness, I should execute you just for good measure, but you have quite a reputation and are well liked by many in an outlaw sort of way. It would be better public relations to let you go—what’s more, to give you a chance to be king.”
“I don’t want to be king.”
“Good. Because I am the king and have no intention of stepping down. Just so we got that straight. Anyway, you’ll have your freedom. In fact, if Kiernevar loses the next fight, you won’t even have to fight him.”
“What’s the catch?”
Sarnova eyed his coffee longingly. “Well, there is a penalty if you lose the game.”
“Which is?”
“To ensure that no one entered the competition lightly, the penalty for losing is death. So it was in the Arena; so it is on the chessboard.” He let a beat go by, then smiled. “So what do you say?”
Chapter 17
“Hell no!” said Danielle, pacing up and down the room furiously. “That’s what you should have said.”
Ruegger watched her stride, knowing from the scowl on her face that he should stay silent. Instead he said, “If I’d done that, baby, I wouldn’t be here now.”
“Goddamnit, Ruegger!”
Tear-stricken, she flung herself against his chest. He wrapped his arms about her back. As he ran a hand through her hair, he whispered, “Baby, it was the only way.”
For a long time, they stood like that, Danielle sobbing, crushed against him, and Ruegger trying to comfort her. He didn’t like it that she was so worked up about this; that meant she had some reason to be. Despite the fact that Ruegger rated a high place among even the most myth-shrouded figures in chess history, she was scared—from which Ruegger deduced that she had a high opinion of his opponent, Kiernevar, or at least his chess skills. Though Ruegger wasn’t one to brag about his abilities, he didn’t doubt his mastery over his favorite board game, so why did Danielle?
“What is it, baby?” he said, once her sobbing had died down. “Why so afraid for me?”
“Ruegger, damnit, you’re the fucking poet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Come on now, we’re on the same side here.” He put his hands to each side of her face and lifted it up so that she was forced to look right at him. “I’m the poet,” he repeated. “What’s that mean?”
Without opening her eyes, she said, “You think about the curse in poetic terms. We must sin to live, that’s how you explained it to me. Not we must drink blood to survive, not that we must sleep during the day. We must sin, that’s what you said. And you said that the more we sinned, the stronger we’d become, which makes sense in a poetic sort of way, but I realize that that’s how you think. I didn’t take you at your literal word, and you didn’t expect me to.
“Also,” she added, “your mind is split. On one hand, you think in poetry, but when it comes to action, you think coldly, logically, analytically. Almost to a fault. You see what I mean?”
“Is this a riddle?”
“I’m suggesting that you use your poetic side to find the fallacy involved in a logical man fighting Kiernevar. Just take a second, you’ll see what I mean.”
“Chaos versus reason, you mean? Chaos being the stronger.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, back in the day, I could’ve shown Kiernevar a thing or two.”
“I don’t like to think of you that way.”
I never should have told her about my past. “I’m not that person anymore.”
“I know. But there’s a part of you that’s closed to me. A dark part. I’m afraid of what you could do if you let your guard down.”
“Don’t be.”
Suddenly, her voice became a whisper, and an urgent one. “Ruegger, baby, I don’t care about all that, that’s not what we should be thinking about. The fact is that you’re going up against Kiernevar tomorrow night, if he lasts that long—but he’s going to. For some reason, I don’t know, I can’t explain it ... It’s like he’s an elemental of some kind. He’s the Godzilla of lunatics, and he’s unstoppable. He was one of Jean-Pierre’s flock, one of a horde of the most wretched and demented human beings alive. Out of all of them, he was the one, the most far-gone, the only one so completely removed he couldn’t follow the albino’s psychic demands. You see what I mean?”
“He’s the cream of the terrible crop, the essence of madness. That’s what you’re getting at.”
“Right. You’re the other side of the coin ... You might’ve been pretty far-gone yourself once, but now you’re the most analytic and logical person I know. The most sane. You are to logic what Kiernevar is to its opposite, or close enough.”
“In other words,” he elaborated, “I don’t have a chance.”
“Exactly. So let’s get the fuck out of here before Kiernevar beats you, they sentence you to execution, and you have to revert back to the way you were before ... evil, savage ... in order to free yourself—because at that point it’ll be the only thing that can save you.”
He nodded. “So that’s what you’re afraid of. That I’ll lose and be forced to run amok.”
Without hesitation, she said, “That’s it, baby. I know you’re powerful and could cause a lot of damage if you wanted to.”
He stared into her eyes, trying to detect the reason why she said this. After all, it was only recently that he’d begun to hone his preternatural skills to a sharpness he’d never acquired before. Not only were his skills becoming quicker and stronger, they were gaining in magnitude. He’d tried to keep his experiments to himself until he could determine his new range, but from what she’d said he realized that mere silence on his part hadn’t been enough to prevent her from discovering his secret.
“I’ll be good,” he promised.
“That’s just it, though. If it comes to that—if Sarnova sentences you to death—then I don’t want you to hold back. Ruegger, you mean more to me than anyone or anything else ever has, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to see you killed over a fucking chess game. You see? If i
t happens that way, I’ll want you to be as brutal as you’ve got to be to escape. But it doesn’t have to go that far. It doesn’t. We should escape ... and do it as soon as possible.”
“No. We’ll stay here, I’ll beat Kiernevar, and Sarnova will let us both go free. Logic has got to be stronger than disorder, and I’m willing to put my life on the line to prove it.” He paused. “The way you’re looking at it—well, it’s too poetic. Life isn’t that way. Come to think of it, that’s why I stopped writing in the first place. Because chaos doesn’t have to win.”
“But it always does, baby.”
“Not this time. After I defeat him and we’re released, we can start all over, reevaluate the whole situation.”
“Rueg ...”
“I’m not a coward, Dani. I won’t back out. This is the only way.”
For a long time, she was silent, then: “Okay. I know you think I’m being stupid, but I want you to know, if you change your mind—for instance, if you come across Kiernevar between now and then and you see what I mean—then you can come back to me and change your mind without losing face.”
He took her hand and led her over to the bed. She resisted for just an instant, then gave in. The truth was she seemed relieved that what Ruegger wanted now was to relax and get to know her again. As he watched, she let the tension drain from her, as he allowed his own to leave him. Soon after reclining on the bed they were talking warmly to each other, sometimes holding hands and kissing, and sometimes in various states of undress.
When he began to help her get her jeans off, though, she stiffened.
“What’s wrong?”
She looked away.
“Junger and Jagoda,” he said.
She hissed out a breath. “Yeah.”
He backed off. “Don’t worry. We don’t have to. If they’d done that to me, I would need some time, too.”
“No,” she said, and he was surprised by her ferocity. “No! If I can’t make love to you, then they’ve won. I’ve been through this before, but this time I’m prepared. As far as I’m concerned, Junger and Jagoda can go to hell.”
She pulled him close and kissed him. They took full advantage of having their own room, which was a luxury they hadn’t been afforded since they’d been together at the Lodge. After Ruegger had agreed to go up against Kiernevar, Sarnova had granted him a few perks. Not only was the room beautiful and comfortable, it also boasted a hot-tub—a large, bubbling cauldron fashioned from granite. It was there that Ruegger fell in love with Danielle all over again.
“I love you,” he told her an hour after their conversation about madness, staring up into her big black eyes.
They were just playing around now, relaxing in their new comforts. His member inside her, she straddled him, rocking back and forth and up and down, trying to see if she could get him fully hard again.
“I love you, too,” she said.
Her eyes were wet, but it might’ve been from the sweat that ran down her forehead and collected in her slyly-curved eyebrows. He wasn’t sure, but he knew that the moisture in his own eyes came from tears, not sweat. It was then that he realized part of him had never expected to see her again.
“What’s this?” she asked.
She touched her lips against his cheeks, tasting his tears. As his eyes closed, he felt himself grow hard again. Just then, someone knocked on the door.
* * *
After feeding off the scraps that were thrown down to him, Jean-Pierre realized he needed to move on. He couldn’t go up the side of the precipice, he knew. Slowly, he picked his way around the mountain and started upwards.
It was slow, tiring work, and he quickly exhausted himself. Before long, he sank to knees and curled up against a large rock. I need rest. The wounds that the Libertarians had inflicted on him were still causing him some discomfort, but the holes had healed, even if they did leave scars in their wakes. The blood froze against his flesh.
After the wave of weariness had passed, he rose to his feet and staggered up the mountain. Next time the wave will be longer. Then longer still. Then it won’t pass at all. He’d better hurry.
* * *
When Danielle opened the door, Roche Sarnova appeared in the doorway, guards to either side. He nodded to Danielle, then settled on the Darkling, sitting in a chair with a bathrobe hastily thrown around him to hide his erection.
“Ruegger,” Sarnova said, “there’s one more thing we must attend to.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s just say you’ll need your jeans and jacket. Get moving and I’ll meet you downstairs in the Old Courtyard in ten minutes.”
Before the Dark Lord could leave, Danielle said, “Not so fast, Blackie.”
“How may I help you?”
“Has Kiernevar played his second game tonight? I saw the first, but not the second.”
Sarnova paused, and there was a touch of sadness in his face. Then, as if only coming to terms with it himself, the Dark Lord said, “Kiernevar won. He has only one more to go. After that, it’s your turn, Darkling.” To Danielle, he said, “Is there anything else?”
“Tell Kharker he can kiss my ass.”
He left, and she shut the door none too gently after him.
“You have a way with people,” Ruegger said.
“Sarnova can kiss my ass, too. I think the only reason he’s letting you fight Kiernevar is because he thinks you’ll lose and he can kill you without your admirers protesting too much.”
“Then he’s going to be disappointed.”
“The way he was talking, you’re going outside. That’s where the Old Courtyard leads to, right?”
“That’s right. Mostly it’s called the Main Foyer nowadays because the courtyard isn’t really used anymore. There’s a drawbridge, the whole works. Before the invention of helicopters, it was the only way to enter the castle that was open to the general public.”
“Jesus, he’s keeping a tight schedule.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dawn’s only about two hours away. This must be the one clear spot in his calendar. Here, Rueg, let’s get you dressed. The sooner you’re out of here, the sooner you’ll come back.”
Chapter 18
During past centuries, Ruegger knew, the Old Courtyard was the area in which knights prepared to go to war. The stables (still in use) ran along one side of the immense room, and they could be located by smell as much as by their physical presence.
Along the opposite wall, weapons either hung from pegs on the wall itself or were located in large storage lockers. Originally this room had been open to the sky, but as years went by and war tactics changed a thick ceiling was constructed to absorb the impact of catapult payloads and, later, bombs. Centuries went by and stories were added above this chamber so that the castle as a whole was enlarged. Eventually, medieval ways of war evolved into modern methods, making this courtyard all but obsolete. Hence, it became more of a foyer than a place in which to prepare for battle, and as it stood now that’s all it was: a vestibule, and a rarely-used vestibule at that, since most guests arrived by helicopter.
Ruegger found Sarnova surrounded by forty armored knights, all mounted and wearing swords and guns. Ruegger suspected that underneath their breastplates they wore bulletproof vests, as well. It was a strange marriage between the old ways and the new, but it was a necessary union in a war where both blades and bullets were effective weapons against the enemy. When the knights saw him, their ranks parted like an iron rose blossoming.
Roche Sarnova appeared, decked out in an antiquated battle-suit, a hunting rifle stuck in a quill down his back, a sword at his waist. His mount was large and black and carefully groomed, a sort of living throne.
“Glad to see you made it,” the Dark Lord said.
“Where are we going?”
“Outside. You’ll see.”
“Do I get to dress up, too?”
“Armor’s available if you think you need it.”
“Do I?”
&n
bsp; Sarnova smiled. “You’re the only one that has an answer to that question. Does Maleasoel have a grudge against you, too?”
“You’re afraid she’s out there?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell Kharker the details of her attack, only a rough outline. I assume she told you more. So: are we in any danger?”
“I don’t know, either.”
Ruegger heard gears turning and spun to see the portcullis being raised. It lifted, disappearing into the wall above it and revealing the drawbridge on the other side. Servants started turning a new set of gears, this time lowering the drawbridge.
In all the times Ruegger had been to the Castle, he had never entered it nor exited it through this portal, although it was rumored that Lord Kharker and Roche Sarnova frequently left this way in order to roam the Carpathians on horse-back, unescorted. Gods, just thinking of all the rumors their escapades had unleashed made Ruegger want to laugh. Perhaps he was about to follow in his old friend’s footsteps. Somehow he doubted it.
He glanced over at the Dark Lord. Sarnova’s face revealed nothing.
With the drawbridge open, snowflakes swirled in, and Ruegger buttoned his jacket and slipped on a pair of black leather gloves Danielle had insisted he take along.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said.
Sarnova nodded to one of his men, who led a group of knights out onto the drawbridge, where they scanned the horizon with binoculars and sniffed the air for signs of unwelcome visitors. They moved to the far end of the drawbridge and stepped out onto snow-covered ground. After a few words with his men, the head knight called, “All clear.”
“Thank you, Colonel De Soto,” said Sarnova, ushering Ruegger outside. “Colonel, meet the man that’s going to defeat the Werewolf Kiernevar. Colonel, this is the notorious Vampire Ruegger. Ruegger, this is Col. De Soto, my Chief of Security.”
