CHAPTER 1
Dawn’s glare penetrated the open balcony doors of Nathanial Maroda’s old world bedchamber, furnished in antiques befitting the royal occupant. Only embers remained in the stone hearth and the chandelier added more lighting. Nearing his mid-twenties, the King slowly paced without thought. Tired, his radiant, blue eyes continued to read the page of a thick, leather bound book, having miraculously appeared in his chambers over a week ago.
With his mother being the Mariard player, Nathanial believed she had sent the book to give him insight into what lay ahead of them. This confirmed to him that a new game was imminent; it was now only a matter of time before their perfect reality turned into an uncertain nightmare. As leader of the team on a foreign game board, he wanted them battle ready.
What Nathanial had already read, implied rules pertaining to the players. These two universal powers created deadly games, which the gifted believed were nothing more than despicable entertainment. Since winning the Mariard game board, the year off had gone quickly. Although the entire planet was theirs and under Nathanial Maroda’s rule, the King felt cheated, seeing himself as only a gifted pawn in a game.
Aware of his position in the scheme of things, Nathanial decided earlier in the year not to seek a relationship. The high council pressured the King, as the people would expect him to marry and father an heir. His twin sister, Tegan and her husband, Malcom, agreed with Nathanial. In their eyes, they would rather see him marry out of love than obligation. His determination to remain single throughout the entirety of the games, they thought irrational. The King’s cousin, Cathmore, and his wife, Rebecca also shared this opinion.
Experiences shared between the men, influenced Nathanial’s decision. His sister in the game was concern enough; Nathanial did not want to be also worrying about a partner. Both his brother-in-law and cousin were already anxious; more so Cathmore, as he feared Rebecca being called into play. Emotions clearly played havoc with the mind that could see problems arising whilst in a game. Assumingly, his sacrifice of relationship would allow him to lead his team to victory. Fighting to become entities in their own right, he could foresee a future where they no longer were mere pawns. This belief pressed him to be prepared, wanting these games over and done with quickly.
His mother promised to negotiate freedom for all Mariard pawns with her opponent. Trusting she had done this, Nathanial hoped to find some indication within the pages. Without diverting his eyes from the words, Nathanial placed the book on the oak dresser. Yawning, he tied back his locks of dark, wavy hair into a ponytail. Rubbing a hand over unshaven boyish features, he read the sentence again. Ten game victories, not required in succession, releases pawns from player possession. Individual entities, Nathanial thought. With a sense of admiration for his mother’s achievements, he read on.
No matter the duration of a game, surviving pawns lost only the equivalent of one year of their natural lives. On completion of each game, pawns returned to the player’s possession or to a game board having been won. The death of a pawn placed it out of play for good; however, gifted pawns had three lives per game. These additional lives were transferable to others, though limitations applied. Players can create between one to ten gifts per game, yet only six could draw on their energy source at a time. Gifted or otherwise, a player relinquishes all rights to a captured pawn. All pawns have unconditional choice with no reprimands or retaliation from players.
In the last game, Cathmore, born the same day as Nathanial and Tegan, chose to renounce the Necropolin. The thought of his cousin prompted Nathanial to smile, as Cathmore was a loved and respected member of the Mariard team. His cousin was once an opponent, if events had not turned out the way they did, he would not have hesitated to kill the man.
Reflecting on the present, Nathanial knew Rebecca found the concept of the game and their role in it most frightening. According to Vieanne, the Mariard player, the gifted themselves would always retain such knowledge and more with each venture. This did not apply to Mariard or Necropolin pawns that would remain ignorant to the games and their reason for being. The gifted could only speculate as to why three pawns retained this information. Considering the couple’s courtship, having started in the last game, it was only befitting that Rebecca knew the truth. The gifted did not need problems arising from ignorance and emotional issues in or out of play. In regards to Malisa and Milacon, their sacrifices and loyalty to the gifted made them unofficially part of the team.
Nathanial thought the content read more like a collection of cryptic verses than clear rules and regulations. The thickness of the book made him anxious, fearing he would not get through it before the new game started. Though a fast reader, he kept stopping to scrutinise paragraphs. Family and friends told him to just read it, deliberate later. One of their gifts was of recall; every word he read was stored subconsciously and could be clearly drawn to mind whenever he needed it.
What the game entailed and who would go was still yet to be revealed. The passage pertaining to the gifted had Nathanial questioning. There were four Mariard gifted and the book spoke of up to ten. In the last game, their opponents Anndrosa and Hargan used mirror imaging, reflecting self-manifestations during battle. Recalling the technique, Nathanial wondered whether this passage referred to this. The Mariard team refrained from using the technique, considering the demands on their energy and concentration.
Reflecting on their last opponents, his brother-in-law’s views on the subject came to mind. His mother had saved him, Tegan and Cathmore from death itself and chances were that the Necropolin player followed suit. Nathanial could foresee the enemy utilising the brother and sister team rather than new opponents. The issue infuriated his brother-in-law, considering they won the game; in Malcom’s opinion, and others, the revival of the Mariard gifted was just part of the prize.
Drawing an image of Anndrosa to mind, Nathanial cringed. The woman had flaming red hair, tightly pulled back in a high ponytail. Leather strapping and armour plating made up her flimsy attire, revealing an athletic figure. Undoubtedly, there was an air of attractiveness about the woman’s features, yet Anndrosa’s masculinity and brutal nature made her the epitome of evil to him.
Hargan had been ridiculed by the team. The giant of a man with shaggy dark hair and wild eyes was nothing like his sister; they did not even look like siblings, liable twins. Though strong, Hargan was thought to lack intelligence where his sister was both mentally and physically an opponent not to be underestimated. In the last game, Anndrosa took Nathanial’s life; this he had not forgotten. Months of extensive training had him confident of being victorious this time and paying her back for hurting his family.
When the book first appeared, Nathanial was disappointed. It suggested that his mother would not be visiting them. Undeniably, the book was a wealth of information and a welcome addition, although he would have preferred to see his mother in person. The sacrifice Vieanne made for the Mariard was commendable; whether player, mother or friend, the family loved her dearly and maintained the utmost respect for her. There had been grief with Vieanne leaving them to take up her position.
Nathanial himself held back thoughts and feelings from others. In his heart, he knew no one was more qualified to be the Mariard player than his mother; nonetheless, he had hoped for more time together before she left for the player’s realm. He did not like to dwell on the twenty-one years that he and his sister spent with the old priestess; Artemis may have been his mother in body, but not in mind and essence.
The last game revealed what Nathanial perceived the truth, which every so often stirred him to question his identity. He had free will, yet in the blink of an eye, he could be a glass pawn in the player’s hand. Among others, he owed his life to his mother, who had used that very method in the last game to save him from eternal death. The feeling of being incomplete and not truly in control of his life was like a thorn in his side. Someone having that much power over him did not seem right, yet he took comfort in knowing his mother had their well-being at heart.
His sister’s self-worth issues troubled Nathanial. Annoying was her brave front to conceal her feelings; it gave a sense of being pushed away and no longer a confidant. Not taking this personally, he was aware that others were also concerned. Private talks with Cathmore led Nathanial to perceive that his cousin understood Tegan better than anyone else. During times of training, Cathmore confessed to still struggling with feelings of being a weak link in the team and self-worth issues relating from his past. Although having personally matured in this area, it remained an ongoing challenge to him. He had faith that Tegan would also grow, yet in her own time.
Having knocked and received no answer, Malcom let himself in. As suspected, his brother-in-law was too engrossed in the book to acknowledge him. Again, the room had not been attended; this was not the fault of aides, but the King not wanting to be disturbed. One of Nathanial’s knee-high boots protruded from under the unmade double bed. The man’s uniform jacket in blue hung lopsided off the back of an armchair near the fireplace. On the elaborate desk was another scarcely touched meal. The empty glass jugs were evident of his brother-in-law’s consumption of little more than water.
Nathanial’s absence at breakfast implied that he had again spent all night reading. Discussions amongst the family revealed concerns; Nathanial’s obsession would see him ill if he continued in this manner. In addition, if the team was called to the game, he would not be in peek condition to participate. Malcom had volunteered to speak to Nathanial on everyone’s behalf.
His brother-in-law was wearing the same shirt and pants that he wore yesterday and the day before that. In comparison, Malcom appeared more like royalty than the King himself. Malcom was taller and broader in build to Nathanial. Thick, brown hair neatly draped his shoulders and clean-shaven features added to an air of freshness. The blue uniform befitted his position of authority within the council and royal household.
“You look like death.” Malcom’s remark drew Nathanial to look directly at him. “Cathmore is fulfilling your engagements, yet again; so you have no excuse to get some sleep.”
“I will not argue with you there.” Nathanial yawned and headed towards his bed. He felt lethargic to the point of light-headedness. “We could be called at any time. I am just worried I will not be prepared.” Sitting on the edge of his bed, he watched Malcom go to his drawer and take out his bedclothes.
“So you’ve said a hundred times. Vieanne would not have given it to you without plenty of time to read it. Jeepers Nathanial, it is two thousand pages or more.”
“I am not prepared to take any chances.”
“Put them on.” Malcom tossed the baggy bed pants and top at his brother-in-law. “You might be King, but I’m older.” He grinned. Malcom was three years the King’s senior. “If I have to tie you to the bed, I will.”
“You would do it too, no doubt.” Nathanial tossed his creased shirt over a chair, followed by his pants. Folding his arms across his chest, Malcom patiently waited for his brother-in-law to get into bed.
“You know what your problem is? You analysing it all. Do as Cathmore said, work it out when you need it.”
“So many verses don’t make sense.” Nathanial sighed. “If I misinterpret…” He could now barely think straight.
“Just sleep, all right? Honestly Nathanial, I wasn’t joking when I said you look like death.” Malcom watched his brother-in-law pull the blankets up over his shoulders and close his eyes.
A large gazebo sat a short distance from the back entrance to the great stone castle. The structure made of wood was recently recoated in white paint. This time of year saw flower buds, fresh leaves on trees, neatly mowed lawns and vine covered latticework, giving the area an enchanting appeal.
Two women sat sipping tea and conversing within the gazebo. A natural beauty, Tegan shared a striking resemblance to her twin brother. She was not one to fuss about her appearance like her friend Rebecca. On the exception of tying her hair up for training, her long, dark curls hung freely down her back and without ornamentation. Though she wore the clothing of a lady, Tegan much preferred the attire of men; dresses of frills, lace and petticoats she thought impractical and uncomfortable.
In comparison to Tegan, Rebecca was very feminine. Straight mousy hair was usually fashioned up with fancy clips and she liked an assortment of hats. Others saw Rebecca as a bright and positive influence; complements pertaining to her nature would see her blush. Of late, her husband’s royal duties kept them from spending time together; a complaint shared by her friend regarding Malcom.
Rebecca resented notions of the gifted being forced into a deadly game just to entertain an evil player. She could not view Vieanne in the same manner as the Necropolin with the woman having a loving nature and being a mother figure to all. What the game ahead entailed was anyone’s guess, but from experience it would not be as simplistic as archery or croquet.
Those born in the new world were free, untouchable by the players. This did not apply to Rebecca and the majority of the Mariard people whom were classed as reusable pawns. Taking nothing for granted, Cathmore had taught his wife many fighting techniques and she was always present during training sessions. Though hard work, it was considered necessary for survival if she were put into play.
With Malcom’s unique gifting being superior to any other and him having won them the last game, Tegan was certain that he would win them the next. Both she and Cathmore had immensely improved their combat skills due to Malcom’s dedication and candidness whilst training. Determined to pull her weight, a facade of confidence only concealed Tegan’s self-worth issues, thinking herself the weakest link in the team.
During Tegan’s upbringing, the old priestess openly spoke of her bitter disappointment. Artemis had drawn attention to Tegan’s inabilities whilst having praised Nathanial for his skill and agility. Accused of acting out of heart instead of using her head spurred Tegan’s unconscious battle to prove her worth. None of this she discussed, assuming no one saw through her tough exterior.
Nothing was certain regarding the games. Like others, Tegan also prayed that Rebecca would not be put into play. Thinking herself a burden, which the men could do without, Tegan also prayed diligently that she too would be left behind. Rebecca being a positive thinker had a knack of giving Tegan what she needed, temporary outside validation.
The two women continued to converse. In mid sentence, Tegan stiffened, having sensed her brother’s signature. Her sights shot upwards to one of several balconies protruding from the individual bedchambers.
“Nathanial!” Tegan left her seat and grasping a handful of skirt and petticoats, hastily headed towards the back entrance.
Standing outside his cousin’s bedchamber, Cathmore was reluctant to go in. Though Malcom had promised to wake Nathanial, he thought a few more hours of sleep would do his cousin the world of good. Running his fingers through his blonde locks, Cathmore decided not to disturb Nathanial. He was about to walk away when he suddenly felt it in his gifting. Hearing a noise beyond the door assured him his cousin was not asleep.
Within the bedchamber, Cathmore found his cousin lying on the floor with a familiar book at his side. Dropping to one knee, he yelled out, hoping the aide in the hallway would hear him. Scooping up his cousin, he approached the bed to lay Nathanial down.
A middle-aged man with a duster in hand and wearing an apron over his uniform came to the doorway. Male aides wore lengthy light-blue jackets, matching straight-legged pants and white shirts buttoned to collarless necklines. He was instructed to fetch Malcom and Tegan immediately.
“Mr Turcar went into the city Sir,” the man replied, before glancing behind him. The aide moved aside, allowing the two women entry into the room.
“Did you feel it?” Tegan eyed her cousin whilst approaching the bed. Looking down on her brother’s pale features, though concerned, she aired her grievance. “That bloody book! We all warned him, but did he listen to us, not the King of the Mariard, he knows better than...”
“Getting angry with him isn’t going to achieve anything.” Cathmore remained calm. Sitting himself down on the edge of the bed, he glanced over Nathanial whilst continuing. “I suggest you connect with Malcom, call him back. I’ll connect with him.” His eyes gestured Nathanial. With Tegan’s nod, Cathmore watched her step away from the bed.
Drawing on her gifting, Tegan radiated a blue aura, revealing the outline of her body through the long gown. Levitating a few feet off the floor, she went into a state of free-floating.
Standing uneasy, Rebecca knew a connection of minds was taking place and her husband would soon follow suit. Remaining silent, she felt confident that whatever Nathanial’s problem, the gifted would sort it out. Her husband levitated, the state of free-floating she thought eerie. Both Tegan and Cathmore hung like dead, heads dropped forward, arms dangled at their sides and both had shallow breath. Her sights shifted with Nathanial emitting a dim aura and maintaining a horizontal position, rose off the bed. Again, she glanced between Tegan and her husband; no matter how many times she saw them in this state, it still prompted anxiousness. In addition, it reminded her that she was just a mere pawn in the scheme of things.
Within a few minutes, Tegan had rejoined Rebecca. Both stood near the bed observing a second bright aura consuming Nathanial. Feeling led to explain, Tegan whispered to her friend.
“Malcom has connected with them, they are both transferring energy to Nathanial. He’s not impressed; Nathanial’s been using his energy to keep himself awake. Book or no book, it was irresponsible considering his position.” Tegan glanced at Rebecca, who expressed sympathy.
“He is worried about the game; he takes leadership very seriously, which is surely a benefit to everyone.”
“I know, but…”
“It appears they have finished,” Rebecca interrupted, noting the diminishing auras. Nathanial lowered to the bed where Cathmore to the floor.
There appeared to be no change in Nathanial, yet Rebecca kept her thoughts to herself. Her husband drew the blankets up to make his cousin comfortable. Heaving a sigh, Cathmore discreetly addressed the women so as not to disturb Nathanial.
“He’ll be fine, he just needs some rest.” Cathmore looked to Tegan.
“He wasn’t impressed was he?” Having referred to her husband, she anticipated the answer before Cathmore shook his head.
“No he wasn’t. He’ll be back soon; he’s come up with an idea to help Nathanial with the reading.”
“And what’s that?” Tegan whispered.
“Malcom and I will sight the pages and when Nathanial sleeps, we connect with him and transfer the information in blocks. He can analyse it all he wants then.”
