he greed in my world would see the resources of Annwyn bled, your beloved Caer Glain stripped of riches and life. Even if you do not join the Seelie Court and go to war, once Phillip finishes in Annwyn he will take his army back into my world. It is the nature of such men to want more. When the powerful men of my world learn of Annwyn, they will stop at nothing to possess it; when that happens, all you know dies."
The old coblynau sat unmoving. Long moments passed. The hall had gone quiet, the tension returned once more.
"A game then," Lord Fafnir said.
"My Lord?" Masyn questioned.
"The best decisions are made over games," Fafnir said. "A game of gwyddbwyll will decide whether Caer Glain joins the Seelie Court."
"This is more important than some gam—" Richard began.
"My grandson Faric against your own boy there," Lord Fafnir said, pointing a crooked finger at Bran. "They are close to the same age, I wager."
All eyes turned to Bran.
"But I have never played," he stammered.
"That is problematic," Lord Fafnir cackled. "Set up the board, Faric."
A coblynau with the same piercing gaze as the lord of Caer Glain but younger and fair-haired moved to one of the empty tables and began setting up game pieces, some in a diamond in the middle of the board and others in groups around the edges. When he was done, Faric bowed looking directly at Bran, before sitting in one of two chairs.
Arondight becoming smoke, Richard came to Bran and guided him forward.
Bran swallowed dryness. "What did you do?" he hissed.
"Ever play chess?" Richard whispered.
"I can't do this!"
"You can and will," Richard assured. "Just as you stood up against Caswallawn, you will do what is right here. Have you played chess or not?"
Memories of playing the game with his father surfaced, fleeting ghosts of a time long dead. "Learned when I was young. Played a lot with my dad. Haven't in years."
"Gwyddbwyll is like chess. See the board?" Bran nodded as they stopped a dozen yards away. "A white king starts in the middle of the square board. The eight pawns of the same color around him are guards, there to protect the king from the sixteen attacking black soldiers around the board's perimeter. The guards, attackers and even the king move like rooks, in straight lines. A piece is removed from the game only when two same-colored pieces sandwich an opposing piece. The point of the game is to move the king to one of the four borders without being surrounded on all four sides by the black attackers and taken. For the king to be cornered without a move is a loss."
"Can I move one of my pieces between two of my opponent's pieces without being taken?"
"Yes, you can," Richard answered. "It is a simple and elegant game. But it does require strategy. So be careful."
Bran studied the game. It was a beautiful board not unlike one used for chess, with shining silver and onyx squares alternating nine wide and deep. A king carved from purpled quartz stood in the middle spot, encircled by pawn-like guards of the same stone. In four groups along each border, attackers carved from black marble waited to ambush the king.
"Think ahead many moves," Richard advised.
"If it is like chess, I understand."
The knight nodded. Bran turned and sat in the smallish chair, barely fitting in it and towering over his opponent. Faric sat across from him, far shorter than Bran, twisting the mustache of his beard as he appraised his opponent. He smiled politely and Bran did the same.
"Let it begin then," Lord Fafnir commanded, glee in his eyes.
"I am Faric, son of Fannon," the grandson of Lord Fafnir greeted.
"Bran Ardall."
Raising an eyebrow, Faric looked to his grandfather. Lord Fafnir frowned deeper but waved his grandson on.
Faric selected a black marble attacker and slid it forward.
Bran took a deep breath and moved a countering guard, the game begun.
It progressed slowly, Bran taking his time. Aware of the eyes on him, a light sweat stung his skin. The coblynau who had been playing at other tables now watched the new game, whispering to one another with every move Bran made. Faric was quick to move, his attack coming from four different fronts, the coblynau having obviously played the game many times in the past—certain and fearless. Bran observed every move Faric made and tried to ascertain how it benefited his play, looking at all angles, deciphering how one move could work in conjunction with other moved pieces. Just like chess, the killing attack in gwyddbwyll could come from any angle, any front. Seeing that attack before it was too late was the key.
The game played on, the throne hall silent, at least an hour passed. Bran had taken five of Faric's pieces but had lost two of his own. Most of the force brought to bear by Faric surrounded Bran, with some of the attackers spread around the board and staring directly at the endangered king; attacks could come from several direct lines, leaving Bran frustrated that he was a move away from possibly losing.
The words of his father from when he was seven came to him.
Think it through, Bran. Think it through. Take your time.
Bran sat there, pondering his next moves. The pieces had gravitated toward one of the corners nearest to him but he was close to reaching a border with his king. Six of his guards remained in a protective ring about the king. Faric blocked the king from reaching a border with a few attackers. Pieces on both sides would tumble like dominos in the next six or seven moves—the win or loss would happen and fast.
Bran wiped the pressure from his forehead as he tried to see how it would happen.
With sudden recognition, Bran saw his opening.
He reached to move one of his guards to block an attacker and break through to the border and win—and then paused.
Bran withdrew his hand and stared at Faric, thinking what was truly needed as the outcome of this game. The coblynau ignored him, lost in the pieces, and then furtively glanced up at Bran with skittish eyes. Both understood—the game was over.
Bran moved one of his guards to an onyx square, cutting off the closest border.
"What did you do?" Richard growled, exasperated. "Stupid!"
"Ye had the game won!" Faric grinned, shaking his head. Then made a move.
"I did win," Bran said.
"Ye did not!" Faric shot back as he gestured at the board. "It is a draw."
"That's right," Bran said with certainty. The king moved back and forth over two squares, unable to be captured by Faric in the safety of the quartz guards but also unable to reach one of the borders to actually win the game due to frozen attackers. The guards were also safe from Faric, leaving a stalemate.
Faric just sat there, looking puzzled.
"You knew," Lord Fafnir criticized from his throne, his face wrinkled severely in a frown.
"No one wins in war," Bran said, standing up and stretching his back. All eyes were once again upon him but he didn't care. "And that's what you are going to have if you don't believe Richard McAllister and agree with the Queen's request."
Lord Fafnir looked from the board back to Bran and back again.
"What say you, Lord Fafnir?" Richard asked.