Triumph of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [39]
On his northern flank, gamepieces were under attack. They were fighting desperately, fighting for their lives.
They were dying….
And there was nothing there! No enemy within sight!
“What is this?” Garald cried hoarsely. Grasping the edge of the Board with his hands, he gripped it tightly, as though he might somehow squeeze the answer from the unspeaking stone. “What is going on?” he demanded of his commanders, who stared back at him blankly.
“Cardinal?” Garald glared at his minister. But the catalyst’s face was ashen, his lips moving in prayer. Looking at his Prince, he could only shake his head.
“I do not know,” he managed to murmur.
“Xavier!” Garald snarled in fury, his fingers digging into the stone. “He is responsible! The Darksword! Yet—”
“No, Your Grace,” Radisovik answered, pointing at the Board with a trembling hand. “Look? Whatever is attacking us is attacking Xavier, too.”
Garald turned his gaze back to the Gameboard. His eyes widened, his voice choked.
Emperor Xavier’s gamepieces were apparently battling the same unseen foe, for they had broken off their attack of Garald’s gamepieces and were now fighting for their lives as well.
Gamepieces! Garald groaned Those were real men and women dying out there, their living bodies represented by the tiny images that populated the magical Board. Watching in helpless confusion, the Prince saw the ranks of the War Masters on the northern part of the Board begin to crumble and break apart. The small figures were turning and fleeing, some of the red-robed warlocks dropping to the ground as though struck from behind by an unseen force, their bodies fading away on the Board as the life left them. Other warlocks and witches were apparently attempting to stand and fight the enemy that Garald could not see, but these tiny figures, too, soon disappeared, leaving no trace behind.
As for the catalysts—they were not being struck down, their bodies did not fall lifeless to the Board. The catalysts were simply and suddenly vanishing.
“What is happening? What is going on?” Garald raved. Wrenching his hands from the Board, he clenched them into fists. “The Ariels from that sector? Where are they?” he cried suddenly, scanning the skies. “Why don’t they report?”
Cardinal Radisovik raised his eyes, too, and clutched at the Prince.
“Your Grace? The spectators,” the Cardinal said urgently “They don’t know what is happening. You must remain calm, or you will start a panic.”
Prince Garald looked at the glittering carriages circling or parked in the skies above him, their wealthy occupants enjoying their midday meals. Faintly, mingled with the murmur of voices and laughter, he could hear the tinkling sounds of clinking champagne glasses.
“Thank you, Radisovik,” the Prince said, drawing a deep breath. Straightening, he clasped his hands firmly behind his back and tried to assume a nonchalant attitude. “Move in closer around the Board,” he ordered his commanders crisply. “Block it from their view. We’ve got to get them out of here!” he added in a low voice as the nobles gathered close, crowding around the Board, their faces pale. “But under what pretense—”
“Perhaps a storm, Garald,” suggested Radisovik, the catalyst’s fear evident in his use of the Prince’s given name in public. “The Sif-Hanar—”
“Excellent idea!” Garald motioned to one of the Ariels, who was standing by. “Fly to the Sif-Hanar,” the Prince ordered the winged man. “Tell them I want storms to sweep across this entire Board! Rain, thunder, hail, lightning. That might help stop whatever is attacking us from the north as well,” the Prince added, glancing back at the Board, his brow furrowed with concern. “Send additional messengers to warn the spectators”—Garald gestured upward—“both here and in other parts of the Field, that storms are imminent.”
The Ariel bowed, spread his wings, and soared into the air, motioning others of his kind to follow him. Gazing after them, Garald saw several suddenly swerve out of their course, flying over to a dark object that appeared between two carriages.
“It’s