Ashling

Author's note: Don't be fooled by the beginning. It's not what you think at first so please read further.



ASHLING

The sun rose to the sound of war horns blaring out the call to battle. The first move had been made! Wittenmore soldiers were charging across the field!

Foot soldiers broke from their rigid formations, their swords raised and light glinting from the polished steel. The two armies charged towards each other and then rank upon rank of footmen met with a clash.

The queen of Blacklake watched the battle with narrowed eyes. Alert and imposing, her thin frame was clothed entirely in black and her dark grey hair beneath her coronet was pulled tight against her skull.

Her husband stood beside her. He too was clothed in black with a crown on his head and he too watched the battle unfolding before them but rather more anxiously than his wife. The queen was the real power behind all this, not him, even though it was only his death that would ensure victory for the other side.

The soldiers looked almost identical in their suits of armour, a blinding mass of steel catching the rays of the sun and distinguishable only by colour: silver on one side, black on the other. Swords clashed and the sound of ringing steel echoed throughout the fighting mass of bodies.

Suddenly, Wittenmore knights entered into the foray, felling whole groups of men with their charge. They pressed forward, attacking relentlessly and driving the Blacklake soldiers back.

The queen of Blacklake frowned, not liking what she was seeing. Every turn seemed now to be blocked by the silver clad warriors of the opposing army.

She could see the king of Wittenmore in the distance and her features hardened with sudden determination. Focused on her goal, she suddenly pushed past the last of her own footmen protecting the king. Their protests didn’t reach her ears and pulling free the hidden sword from her velvet robe, she advanced upon the enemy.

She swung her blade with an expert hand, slaying down the Wittenmore soldiers in her way, gradually forcing a path through to the Wittenmore king.

It was almost too easy but the thought never even crossed her mind and, taking the final steps towards her enemy, a look of gleeful triumph grew in her eyes.

She could see him clearly now, the Wittenmore king. He was defenceless, the men around him powerless to stop her. There was an opening in the ranks, a clear path leading straight towards him.

You’re mine! she thought and raised her sword for the last strike. Only one more step to take and the land would be hers!

“Oh no you don’t,” came a feminine voice from behind her.

The queen spun around in shock but she was too late to stop the blade from plunging through her chest. She fell to the ground with a gasp and stared up at the queen of Wittenmore and the bloody sword in her hands. “H-how?” she croaked. How was it possible? Where had she come from?

The woman smiled. “You never learn, do you,” she stated and raised her sword for the final blow.

A scream of rage and defeat filled the valley and there was a visible pause in the ranks of the Blacklake army as it reached their ears. Her defeat shook them to the bone but they fought bravely on. What could they do without their queen? They were nowhere near as powerful an army without her.

The Blacklake king trembled where he stood. He too had heard the scream and now he could feel the enemy drawing close all around him, could see the glint of silver steel more and more between the last of his own black-clad soldiers. It would only be a matter of time now, he knew. Only a matter of time before the enemy charged through his defences. Only a matter of time before those silver warriors had him completely surrounded.

His eyes flicked nervously from one side of the battlefield to the next, looking for any sign of his coming doom. And then –

There! An advancing wave of silver knights. His army seemed to part before them without a fight. He looked around frantically but there was nowhere for him to go. Nowhere to run. He was trapped!

The leading knight moved forward to announce Blacklake’s defeat. He opened his mouth –

* * *

“Checkmate!”

Ebony winced. “Damn! I thought for sure I had you this time!”

Wyatt Wittenmore grinned. “You’re learning. That’s all that matters. Go again?”

Ebony looked at her watch. “Sorry, I’ve got to get to work.” She pulled a face. “Besides, I’m getting sick of losing.” She looked down at the little girl who had been – and still was – watching the entire chess game with avid interest. “Though it doesn’t look like Ashling is. I swear she’s going to become a champion chess player when she grows up, just from watching me lose all the time.”

Wyatt grinned. “Certainly looks like it, doesn’t it? Look at her. Still examining the game we just played.” He shook his head in admiration at the girl for taking such an interest in so complex a game. “She’s probably working out how you could have won,” he teased.

“Oh probably,” Ebony groaned but she returned his smile. “Well, we’ll meet you again at dawn tomorrow and you can be sure I’ll have a new strategy up my sleeve.” Ebony waved and, taking her daughter’s hand, she led the way back through the park.

Ashling twisted her head to look back at the black and white pieces still set up on the chess board, causing further wonder in Wyatt’s thoughts, but in her own mind she saw only a silver clad knight dethroning an enemy king.

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