coblynau sat unmoving. Long moments passed. The hall had gone quiet; tension returned once more.
“A game then,” Fafnir said finally.
“My Lord?” Masyn questioned.
“The best decisions are made over games,” Fafnir said, gesturing at the tables before his dais. “A game of gwyddbwyll will decide whether Caer Glain joins the Seelie Court or remains apart.”
“This is more important than some ga—” Richard began.
“My grandson Faric against your own boy there, he who possesses Arondight,” Fafnir said, pointing a crooked finger at Bran. “They are close to the same age, I wager.”
All eyes turned on Bran.
“But I have never played,” he stammered.
“That is…problematic,” Fafnir said darkly. “Set up the board, Faric.”
A coblynau with the same piercing gaze as the lord of Caer Glain except 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.
Letting his rage at what Merle had done to him dissipate and focusing on the moment, Richard let the Dark Thorn fade away. He came to Bran, guiding him forward.
“Let the sword go, Bran.”
The boy did so. Arondight vanished like smoke.
“What did you do?” Bran hissed.
“Ever play chess?”
“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?”
“I told you in Seattle. I played with my father. Haven’t in years.”
“Gwyddbwyll is like chess. See the board?” Bran nodded as they stopped a dozen yards away. “A 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 soldiers around the 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 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 his 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 didn’t seem convinced. Richard studied the game setup. It was a beautiful board, with shining silver and onyx squares alternating nine wide and deep. A king carved from amethyst stood in the middle, encircled by the pawn-like guards. 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 small chair, barely fitting in it and towering over his opponent. Faric sat across from him, twisting the mustache of his beard as he appraised his opponent. He smiled politely. Bran did not.
“Let it begin then,” 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. Fafnir frowned deeper but waved his grandson on. Faric selected a black marble attacker and slid it forward. Bran took a deep breath, gave Richard one last look, and moved a countering guard.
The game progressed slowly. Richard realized Lord Fafnir had trapped them already. The game was difficult even for the experienced. The coblynau who had been playing at other tables now watched the new game, whispering to one another with every move. Faric was quick to move, having obviously played the game many times in the past—certain and fearless. Richard observed every move made and tried to ascertain how it benefited Faric’s play, as if he could will the information directly to Bran. The boy did take his time, 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, an hour gone. Bran had taken five pieces but had lost two. Most of the force brought to bear by Faric surrounded Bran, with attackers spread around the board staring directly at the endangered king. Richard found