A Smidge of Magic

Chapter 62

Ian snapped awake, his head swimming in pain as he sat up. But his pain was mitigated by something exquisitely soft beneath him. He found himself lying in a bed so soft and pillowy it could have been mistaken for a cloud. His eyes flitted about the room while his mind began re-assembling how he'd gotten here. Even if he didn't quite know where here was.

Vale...

The jagged memory of the fight, and her death, played out in his mind's eye. There was a moment, a long moment, where the grief and pain threatened to consume him. But he would not allow it, he could not, she'd given everything to save him. He let out a long slow breath. He would have time to grieve, but not now. Now he needed to focus on finding a way to escape. He turned his attention to his prison. And he had no doubt that's what it was, a prison.

There was one exit, a door that was currently closed on the far side of the room. Off to one side was a crackling fire, and overhead candles burned brightly in a chandelier that cast the room in a warm, inviting glow. Two high back wing chairs sat in front of the fire with a game board spread out on a table between them. It gave the impression of a five-star hotel room rather than a prison cell.

He'd been stripped down to his pants, but he considered it fortunate he still had that much. He got up slowly, expecting there to be pain at every movement. But found there was none, only a stiffness as though he'd finished an intense workout. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and got up. If nothing hurts I'm either dead or am in serious trouble. He thought as he assessed his options.

"Not dead," Came a familiar voice from behind a chairs.

On wobbly legs Ian made his way across the room and fell into adjacent seat. By the time he hit the cushion the previously unoccupied chair was filled by a malignant presence. One that Ian couldn't seem to be rid of, he let out an audible sigh.

"Hello Ivy," Ian said with a cool detachment, a far cry from the seething rage he felt.

Between them sat a game board, similar to chess in appearance, but with a few more pieces.

"Do you play?" Ivy asked, gesturing toward the board.

"I play chess, but not whatever this is," Ian said, "I don't even know what half of those pieces are." Ian placed his hands on the table and leaned in, annoyed with himself for even answering. "And who cares? What am I doing here? You obviously don't want me dead, so you need me for something. Why send mountain-goon to kick my ass and kidnap me, only to turn around and heal me? Why..." His voice trailed off, the loss of Vale was too fresh, too raw for him to even speak of it.

Ivy's response was to reach out, and with his index finger he directed the pieces on the board. The opposing side moved on its own as Ivy played a solo game and explained the rules. He ignored Ian's questions while explaining the rules to Paragorian Strategy, which it turned out was very similar to chess.

After the game was through Ian watched the pieces reset with a wave of Ivy's hand. With no change in Ivy's countenance, Ian decided that his best bet for getting answers was to play along.

"For all the rules, remember the goal is merely to force the king first into submission and finally defeat," Ivy explained in a condescending tone. After the first moves, Ivy finally saw fit to answer one of Ian's questions. "I told you when we first met that you were an anomaly to me. And by the very definition anomalies are rare. Which means that I find you interesting. I would likely never discover the reason for that if you were to die." With a flick of Ivy's wrist, a piece slid to claim one of Ian's. "Submission."

Ian glanced at the board and leaned in to move, what he dubbed, a pawn piece. He also hoped to catch a glimpse of Ivy's face. The firelight flickered and shifted teasing a reveal, but at the last moment, the light pulled back. Leaving Ian with no details other than Ivy's pretentious, pearly white grin.