Checkmate

[Opal]

(Post subbed for Luka.)


For all that had happened in the tunnel, it felt good to be out in the open air for once. The confines of Kotir's kitchens could drive a beast mad, and Luka didn't need a terrible amount of help in that field. The fox breathed in deeply, welcoming into his nostrils the rich, earthy scent of loam and fallen leaves. The earth was dying again, but Luka knew that it was a necessary sacrifice that led to a verdant, glorious rebirth in the spring. Pawns, rooks, knights, bishops...sometimes even the queen needed to be sacrificed. Their pain brought about something greater. That was just the way of the world.

Luka exhaled, sending twin tendrils of mist rising into the chilly air. The fox envied their ability to drift away from this mess without a care in the world, leaving him stranded on his one good leg. Suddenly the air didn't smell quite as inviting, and Luka scowled and told the others that they'd seen all they needed to.

Turning carefully, he trapped a growl that tried to escape his throat as he followed the others back into the oppressive tunnel. He'd almost forgotten how stiff his leg could get in the winter.

"All right, Limper?" Rousseau said from close behind him. "I'd like t' get back t' Kotir afore it's destroyed again."

"Don't you go worrying about me, rat. And don't make me go back on that trade, either." Luka flicked his torch from side to side as a reminder. The captain had a fine blade; it'd be a shame if she were to lose it again.

"Geet that torch up heere as quick as you pleese. We need more light," Rexim's voice called from the front of the group.

"But keep it well away from me!" Clutus warned.

"Sorry, I was just exchanging pleasantries with the captain here. Isn't that right, Rouss?"

The only response that met his ears was the crepitating flicker of his torch. That, and Rousseau's faint choking hacks and scuffling paws.

Wait, what?

The fox whirled, his torchlight falling on the captain and her assailant: another water rat. This one was considerably bigger than the last, Luka figured, though he had no way of knowing for sure because Clutus had made a picnic of that one before he'd gotten a good look.

For a moment, Luka just stared as the rat quietly throttled Rousseau from behind with a bit of roughly woven rope. Rousseau's eyes bulged and her tongue lolled as she scrabbled feebly. Then something snapped inside Luka's brain. The life of a pawn was inconsequential and deplorably brief, and no one cared enough to mourn its death. Still, the pawn had to do its duty, sacrificing itself to pave the way to victory. Luka had often wondered idly why there were pawns at all, marching so willingly into battle when a part of their brain--most likely a quite substantial part--knew their chances of survival.

In that moment Luka understood. And yet, he didn't quite understand. But it didn't matter. His limp forgotten, he charged the pair of rats, swinging his torch. It connected with the strange rat's side, and he released Rousseau with a squeal of pain and clawed at his smoldering fur. Rousseau leant heavily against the wall, gasping for breath.

Then, two more rats appeared in the tunnel, and the sound of many more pawsteps could be heard close behind them.

"Go on," he told Rousseau.

The corsair couldn't bring herself to speak, but she made to draw her blade. Rexim and Clutus had also turned and looked ready to stand and fight.

Luka lost his temper then. "Don't be daft, all of you! Get out of here. We'll be no use to Vulpuz if we all rot here! Get going or I'll do these rats a favor and kick your tails into next week!"

Rousseau nodded, rasped, "Give 'em blood 'n' vinegar, Luka." Trembling slightly, she took off down the tunnel with Clutus and Rexim.

Luka turned his back on his companions, aiming a kick at the rat he'd burned. The rat leapt back with a snarl, joining ranks with his compatriots. Luka spat on the tunnel floor between them. Then a thought occurred to him. Why did he have to be a pawn? Pawns on chess boards were carved out of wood by some beast who decided that's that what they had to be, and they had no choice in the matter. It was fate. But fate wasn't fate to him anymore, or to the rest of the beasts Vulpuz had chosen. He could be whatever he wanted. Perhaps he would be a knight. They always seemed to go out in a blaze of glory...and speaking of blaze...

Luka hurled his torch into the advancing cluster of rats. They scattered to avoid the projectile, and the fox leapt after it, taking the fight to them. A spear smashed through his gut, and the rats closed in. Luka fell to his knees, his teeth and claws still snapping and swiping viciously at anything within reach. Something struck him hard in the head, and he pitched forward, his chin meeting the tunnel floor with a resounding crack.

That was just the way of the world, he reminded himself as the light dimmed. Beasts all had to play their part. Sacrifices had to be made. His time was over. He would be cast off to the side, and the game would continue. Life would go on.