An Invitation

(Part 17 of Eternity’s Eclipse)
(Book 5 of the Fantasian Series)

“I’m glad you could make it.” Kelly assured him.

Sterling hardly thought he sounded “glad” about anything. There was a nervous twitch along one of the nobleman’s temples, cross lines across his brow, and an anxious tap in his foot. All and all, Sterling would have expected no less a reception if he had marched into the room with wings and claws.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” The Council’s knight promised.

“I thought you had something with Blaze every morning?” he recalled.

“It has been put on a temporary hiatus, with the coming preparations.” He explained. He, however, neglected to mention the project had already been deemed a success after Embyr’s otherworldly transformation.

“Ah – I can hardly imagine that’s a bad thing?”

“You have no idea.” Sterling assured him.

“Then we’ll get right to it, I suppose?” the Lord asked rhetorically. He leaned forward on his throne, placing his head in his hands – the most submissive gesture any of the assembled guards had seen their fife-holder give in his audience chambers. The act gave Kelly a long pause, one last chance to assess his actions; but, at length, the time came for him to rise and speak again.

“I don’t like dragons,” he said bluntly “but I do respect them. Blaze made an excellent point: I can’t just throw my city into a war. So… two nights from now, we are going to host a small festival in the town center. We’re lucky, really: some of the visiting merchants are performers, and it took only a little financial compensation to have them stay a few extra nights. We’ll give everyone some food and entertainment before we go from a mercantile state to one of warfare.”

“It sounds like fun.” Sterling returned with a smile. “I’ll be looking forward to it. I take it you called me up here because you want help?”

“Not… exactly.” The nobleman said with a cough, clearly getting to the uncomfortable and anxiety-ridden portion of his message. The lines along his forehead deepened, and it seemed his head would topple into his hands again.

“Come to think of it,” he mused with a stressed laugh “I’m probably getting you to help ruin everything.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I’ve given the matter some thought.” He sighed. “I… would like for you to extend the same invitation I offered you to Embyr.”

It was so unexpected that Sterling was hit was a wave of nausea. True, Kelly had removed the terms of the dragon’s banishment earlier that year, allowing her to enter the city; but she didn’t for good reason! It was hard enough in a sparsely accessed street to find the correct footfalls – but during a celebration, when crowds would be shoulder-to-shoulder for dozens of yards? It was nearly a suicide attempt.

“Are you sure?”

“No – so don’t ask that again. She’s the only dragon I even marginally trust; and you share those feelings. Have her enter the city an hour or so before festivities begin; then let her find a spot and stay there.”

Sterling nodded his consent, a grateful smile offering more thanks than any spoken message. But that grin would be short lived; Kelly wasn’t finished.

“At this point,” the nobleman said, raising his voice to reach each of the six men in the chamber “I need to speak with my guest – alone.”

The men offered neither question nor complaint and, swiftly, filed out of the room. After the doors slammed at their backs, Kelly leaned forward again – the etchings of stress deepening a second time.

“Now,” he said, his voice low and deathly serious “I need the truth about the girl that joined the Council. Who and what is Skyler?”

And, despite the judgment he knew was to come, Sterling realized he couldn’t lie his way out of a confession.

* * * * *

“I see you finally decided to show up.” Embyr noted with a playful semblance of irritation.

The Inner Council had, in the stress of their planning, dismissed all those outside of the six – save, of course, for when they individually summoned them. Thus both Embyr and Skyler, essential contributors to the proceedings, were forced to remain nearby.

Crag had been kind enough to lend them her clearing. It was a quaint, quiet place, ironically small in comparison to most of the Inner Council’s lairs. A tall hill dominated the center of the glade, a cave just large enough for a dragon nestled at its base; and, in the alcove, both lycanthrope and dragon had taken the opportunity to begin a game of chess.

Crag’s board was something of a peculiarity. The pieces were almost as large as a human’s forearm, making them just large enough to be a nuisance for human players, and just small enough to accomplish the same feat for dragons. Nevertheless, several more than enjoyable matches had been played out across the black and white tiles, to which the swordsman was living testimony.

A black knight wove around a pair of enemy pawns, executing a bishop that had overextended. The piece was removed, and the dragon of the victorious color gave a rather confident smile.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten me…” she purred, her mood only enhanced by Skyler’s vicious squirms.

“Hardly,” Sterling promised, taking a seat alongside the match as the lycanthrope shoved a white rook Embyr’s way. The piece was, subsequently, taken by the opposing queen.

“Has anyone told you that you’re horribly distracting?” the once-fox asked, angrily pushing a pawn forward to break a nasty check.

“Has anyone told you that you’re bad at chess?” he countered.

“Considering this is my first game? No.”

The pawn was taken by a black bishop, which was then taken by Skyler’s sole remaining bishop, which was then taken by Embyr’s queen. The vulpine had lost all of her powerful pieces; and she was in check again.

“Hey, Skyler?” Embyr asked slyly.

“What?” she demanded with a scowl.

“I’ll be the first to say it: you’re bad at chess.”

With a victorious grin the player in question slid one of her pale pawns forward, driving the deadly queen from the board. Skyler leaned back proudly, extending her hands Embyr’s way.

“Who’s bad now? It is your move, big-shot.”

Embyr slid her remaining bishop several spaces, putting it directly in line with the lycanthrope’s king. The royal piece was cornered, and no pawn could move to adequately block the attack; it was checkmate.

“You,” the dragon assured her gloatingly.

“Shut up – it isn’t my fault Sterling stole my beginner’s luck.”

“Let me give it a try.” The swordsman implored, slipping over the side of the board to help rearrange the pieces. Embyr made a peculiar series of clicks with her tongue, shaking her head contentiously.

“If we play,” she whispered hungrily “we play for stakes.”

“The board’s all yours.” Sterling sighed, moving so that Skyler could take over the match.

The lycanthrope’s opening four moves involved a sporadic spreading of pawns and two lengthy jumps with her knight. On the opposite end of the match, Embyr’s moves of an equal number involved quite a pair of skipping pawns, and two rather deadly twists of her bishop that drew first blood: Skyler’s brave knight.

“So,” Embyr asked as the shape-shifter’s teeth clamped anxiously down on one nail “what kept you this morning? I assume it was a dream about me.”

“Kelly, actually.”

“You dreamt about Kelly? That’s really weird…”

“No: I spoke with Kelly.”

“Oh? And what did he have to say – other than that he hates us?”

“He’s throwing a festival in town before he clamps down on protocol – a last chance to celebrate everything we’ve accomplished over the last several years.”

“That sounds like fun – let’s hope it goes over well, eh?”

Skylerh’s second knight, over the course of three moves managed to put Embyr in check. The dragon’s retaliation was swift and brutal as her bishop rolled forward again, whisking the horseman from the battlefield. The only casualties in the game were from Skyler’s side, and neither was a particularly expendable piece.

“He wanted me to extend an invitation.”

Embyr gave a sudden jolt, accidentally moving her bishop in line with one of Skyler’s pawns. The shape-shifter missed the mistake and played on like nothing happened – though even she seemed somewhat intrigued by the comment.

“An invitation?” the Black Terror asked, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. “For whom?”

“Both of you.”