Chapter 5
A pawn clad in black chain mail moved quickly in the afternoon sun under a yellow sky. The forest provided perfect cover for reaching the fourth rank. He detected a flicker of motion on the path ahead; the pawn ducked behind a tree, ready for a diagonal capture of the white piece when it passed by. His eyes must have deceived him; he blinked twice and stood in awe at an approaching jet black horse. Its rider was even more imposing—a beautiful auburn-haired woman in a black leather bodice and a leather miniskirt that did nothing to hide her perfect legs.
The Black Knight! He bowed as she rode by, noticing the leather whip draped in a loose coil around the horse's neck, imagining what the dangerous warrior woman might be capable of with it. With such forces on their side, how could Black lose?
-oOo-
Miss Ryder leaned forward and gave the Steed's ears a caress. "Good thing your hearing's as sensitive as my rapidly bruising backside."
"I'm trying to tread more lightly," the Steed teased back. "Do you think the Black Pawn saw me do the color change?"
"Judging from the way the he was bowing and scraping, I'd say he was completely fooled."
The Steed shimmered and changed back to his original color. "In case we meet any friendly pieces, at least one of us should show White," he explained.
"Agreed, at least until we've met with the White Bishop. Do you have any other secrets you're keeping, besides being a chamelequine?"
"I always have secrets, Miss Ryder—"
The Steed came to a sudden stop at the sight of a large metal object revealed between the trees. It was a broad ship's anchor, fifteen feet tall. Miss Ryder followed his gaze.
"A heavyweight moor?" she observed wryly.
"Unless there's a fat Saracen hanging about."
She nodded. "We must have reached the fifth rank."
The Steed passed solemnly by the landmark. "Keep your eyes peeled for any sign of the White Bishop," he advised.
There's that word again, she thought. Peeled...
They came to a small vertical sign mounted on a picket alongside the trail. Miss Ryder looked at the text quizzically.
"FINE WOOD SLATS," she read aloud.
As the Steed rounded a curve, another sign came into view.
"AND A STURDY SAIL," he said.
Two more signs became visible as the horse trotted around the bend.
"WILL HELP YOU WEATHER," Miss Ryder continued.
"THE STRONGEST GALE," the Steed completed.
They read the last sign aloud in unison. "BURMA STAVE."
"A shipping lumber advertisement," the Steed mused. "Does that mean anything to you?"
"Things certainly seem to have gotten nautical all of a sudden," Miss Ryder commented.
"Except there's no water around. We're in the middle of a forest," remarked the horse.
"Not for long," she said. "There's a clearing up ahead."
The trees gave way to a wildflower-strewn field. A Gothic structure with a lofty tower stood inexplicably in the middle of the plain, as if plunked down by an invisible hand. The horse trotted nearer, and Miss Ryder could see sunlight reflecting off stained glass.
"It's a cathedral!"
"That spire's no bell-tower," said the Steed. "It's a lighthouse."
Miss Ryder frowned in thought. "What purpose could a lighthouse serve without a sea?"
"Perhaps it's symbolic, like the Holy Sea," the horse suggested.
"The White Bishop must be inside," Miss Ryder concluded. "I'll bet this is where she keeps an eye on the Black Rook, from the lighthouse gallery."
"I've heard of this church," the Steed said. "It's St. Marvin's-in-the-Fields. It's a Maritime Sailor's Cathedral."
"I thought that Elmo was the patron saint of sailors."
"He had a lesser-known brother, Marvin. Drowned in a punting accident while trying to retrieve a lady's parasol. Canonized on the spot."
The horse awkwardly lurched sideways to avoid something in the low brush. An indignant meow sounded from below.
Miss Ryder peered at the ground. "There's a cat," she said. "And not alone. There's several more..."
The Steed altered his course. "Perhaps Old Possum lives here." Another meow split the air, invoking a chorus from the nearby grass.
"Watch where you're stepping," Miss Ryder chided.
"How can I? There's cats abundant!"
Several of the cats took off running towards the church.
"They must be the White Bishop's pets," Miss Ryder declared.
"Or her spies," the horse corrected.
True enough; the cats had entered the cathedral through a small, ornate door and were clearly engaged in meowing a report to someone inside.
"We'll be expected," the Steed warned.
As the horse went up the front stairs, the tall cathedral doors mysteriously opened. Miss Ryder guided the Steed directly into the nave. Instead of pews, the center aisle was flanked by tall bookcases; in the spot where there would normally be an altar there was a large mahogany desk. Several cats were lined up in a row on its surface.
"Is this a church, or a library?" the Steed asked.
Miss Ryder read the titles of some nearby books as they passed. They were all historical and scientific texts. "The White Bishop must be a scholar."
The cats scattered from the desk to reveal a seated blonde woman dressed in a white ecclesiastical robe. As the woman rose to greet the visitors, she shrugged off her outer garment to reveal a form-fitting white velvet leotard that was low-cut enough to reveal ample cleavage.
Miss Ryder recalled that the White King had also boasted a substantial bosom; it seemed to be a quality that all the white pieces had. She absently tugged at the laces on her own bodice, then wrinkled her mouth at her own insecurity. After all, it wasn't a competition.
The White Bishop stood directly in front of the Steed with her hands on her hips and looked up at his rider.
"So you're the White Knight," she said wryly.
"Pursuing the Black Rook," Miss Ryder answered as she inclined her head in respect.
The woman took in the black leather and nodded her approval. "You're certainly dressed to kill." Then she turned her attention to the Steed and added teasingly to the horse, "Though you look like you've been put through the wringer."
The Steed brushed aside her taunt. "Pleased to met you, my Lord," he said suavely. The horse bowed down on one knee, just as he had for the other White pieces. Miss Ryder was ready this time, squeezing her legs together to avoid losing her balance and grabbing the Steed's bowler with one hand before it fell.
The White Bishop patted the Steed on the side of the nose. "Well, aren't we a charmer?" she lilted. Miss Ryder once again felt a twinge of jealousy.
The cleric addressed her. "You have your work cut out for you, taking on the Black Rook. He's been going around disguised as the White Rook, discovering all our secrets."
Miss Ryder arched an eyebrow. "A double agent?"
The White Bishop nodded. "Like a man with two shadows. He's an assassin and a spy."
"What about the Black King?" the Steed asked.
"Just a puppet. The Black Rook is the big thinker, the one controlling all the pieces."
"Any intel from the nearby village folk?"
"They won't even speak to me," the White Bishop declared.
"Afraid of what the Rook might do to them?"
"Bullseye. It's a virtual conspiracy of silence."
"Little wonder," the Steed commented.
"How do you get your information?" asked Miss Ryder.
The White Bishop ruffled the fur on a nearby tabby. "People may not talk to strangers, but they'll always talk to a cat." She shrugged, and her blonde hair swirled. "I guess that's the story in a nutshell. What's your plan?"
Miss Ryder pursed her lips. "Covert infiltration."
"Ah, I see. A one-woman Trojan horse." The cleric patted the horse's muzzle again. "Though a Black Knight on a White Steed might have a difficult time getting in."
The Steed said nothing, just shimmered and changed to darkest black, then made a noise that could have been an audible smirk.
The White Bishop was clearly impressed. "Aren't we full of surprises today," she said. "A regular little espionage equine. You'll want to stay that way if you're hoping to go in undercover."
She turned to Miss Ryder. "Follow me up to the gallery."
Miss Ryder dismounted and followed the White Bishop through an archway directly into the connected lighthouse. As they walked together up the steps, they heard the clip-clop of the Steed following. Luckily, the stone staircase supported his weight.
"Does he follow you everywhere?" the White Bishop asked, amused.
"We seem to have formed a connection," Miss Ryder explained.
Neither woman seemed concerned that the Steed was getting a prime view of the white velvet leotard and the skimpy black leather outfit; in fact, a bystander might have thought they strode rather flirtatiously up the stairs. On reaching the lamp gallery, they both went to the railing, with the horse nosing in between them.
The White Bishop pointed to the south. "There's the stronghold." She indicated a sprawling, gated compound dominated in the center by a dark tower that resembled a giant chesspiece rook.
"The White King mentioned a secret weapon," said Miss Ryder.
The White Bishop nodded. "They were building it for weeks."
"Can we see it from here?"
"Not unless you have second sight. No one's ever seen it, including me. Or, rather, anyone that has ever seen it has never returned."
"What's that building in front of it?" the Steed asked.
"A heavily-fortified Lodging-House called Cranberry Row."
In the far distance, they could see a man in black walking the parapet of the Dark Tower. Even without being able to see his face, Miss Ryder recognized him instantly by his manner.
"That's him," she said with certainty. "That's the Lodger."
"I thought it was pronounced Lodyer," the Steed commented.
-oOo-
The Steed was grazing in the field outside St. Marvin's Church, intently watching his companion. Miss Ryder was practicing martial arts against an invisible opponent.
She had removed her miniskirt; at first the Steed thought she might have found it too restricting, but then he realized that she had taken it off to use the leather lace from its closure to tie her reddish hair back into a ponytail. This left her wearing nothing below the waist but the flimsy leather G-string; she might have been self-conscious about appearing that way in front of the Steed if they hadn't already shared a bath together.
Miss Ryder's workout consisted of static, balanced poses followed by sudden lightning-fast moves: snap kicks, palm thrusts, forehand chops, backhand slaps, and stinging strikes using her elbows and knees. Hard to believe that the Black Rook could withstand such attacks— Miss Ryder's entire body was a weapon. Yet, when she stood still, she radiated the elegance of a princess.
After nearly a quarter hour, when her moves had been honed to perfection, she cooled down in the shade of a nearby tree. The Steed trotted over and watched as she picked a large apple.
"You certainly take your practice seriously," the Steed said.
Miss Ryder fed him the fruit. "It pays to be to be prepared."
"So you're planning to confront the Black Rook head on?"
"Precisely. I'll defeat him in hand-to-hand combat," she said resolutely.
"If you've never succeeded before, what will be different this time?"
"While I was practicing, I remembered a special fighting technique I learned. I can't recall being very successful at reproducing it, but I'm sure it could defeat the Black Rook. The goal is to strike all five of the major nerve plexuses in a specific, rapid sequence. It's called a Whirlwind Kick. It targets the solar, abdominal, groin, neck, and lumbar plexuses."
The Steed winced and instinctively moved his rear hoofs closer together. "Groin plexus?"
Miss Ryder couldn't help a subtle smirk. "While the Whirlwind Kick will incapacitate an adversary long enough to make good an escape, that's not our ultimate goal; we hope to conquer and capture. For that, I need to execute a move called the Hurricane Kick."
"That sounds positively devastating."
Miss Ryder nodded. "After executing a Whirlwind Kick starting from one foot, you must complete the move on your opposite foot and execute a mirror image Whirlwind Kick, in reverse symmetry. The combined effect sends a shock wave through the nervous system of your opponent, resulting in temporary but complete paralysis of the limbs. Your foe can't move his arms or legs, can't hold a weapon, can't escape. He is completely at your mercy."
"How long does this paralysis last?"
"I don't know. I've never successfully performed a Hurricane Kick. But I remember being told by my sensei that it could last up to fifteen minutes."
"More than enough time to capture the Black Rook!" the Steed exclaimed.
"But it can only work if I get close to him. That's where our discreet, undercover infiltration comes into play."
The White Bishop came out of the cathedral, a small scrap of paper in her hand. "Discussing strategy?" she asked the two of them.
"Miss Ryder plans to kick the Black Rook in a variety of places," the Steed explained.
The White Bishop grinned. "I'm sure he won't be able to take that for very long." She showed them her hand-drawn sketch. "Here's a rough map of the area around Cranberry Row. Once you get through the outer fence using any of these portals, here, you still have to pass through the main gate at the Dark Tower. That's the difficult one, guarded by Pawns. You may have to fight your way in."
"She's certainly ready for that!" the Steed said cheerily.
Miss Ryder had taken down her ponytail and was threading the lace back through the miniskirt. "I hope to avoid any confrontation until I face the Black Rook. We need to be as sneaky as possible."
"In that case, I wish you both the best of clandestine luck."
Miss Ryder lifted an eyebrow as the White Bishop kissed the horse on the side of his nose.
-oOo-
The Steed peeked around the corner of a building in the center of town. He was now pitch black in color. Miss Ryder was on foot next to him and poked her head around as well in a swirl of auburn hair. Both of them watched vassals come and go through the main entrance of Cranberry Row.
"The portal's heavily guarded," the Steed observed, "and they're checking everyone's papers. But if you can convince them you're the Black Knight, I'm sure they'll let you pass."
Miss Ryder shook her head. "I want to enter unnoticed. I don't want anything to tip off the Black Rook until it's too late for him to escape. If they didn't buy my story, we'd lose the element of surprise."
"Then there's only one thing for it," the Steed said. "I'll have to jump the fence." They turned their heads in unison toward the sturdy wooden barricade that enclosed the Black Rook's compound.
Miss Ryder looked doubtful. "That's nearly twelve feet high."
"Perhaps if I had a running start," the Steed hinted, "trotting really fast..."
Miss Ryder snapped her fingers. "Of course. The TrotFast hoofoaccelerator." She loosened her bodice and pulled out the glowing vial that was still warm from being nestled between her breasts. She wasn't sure how much to give the horse, but the bottle was small enough that she decided she better give him all of it. Pulling the cork out with her teeth, she decanted the contents into her cupped left hand and offered it to him.
"Here you go, Steed."
The horse's rough tongue on her soft palm sent a pleasant shiver through her body. Miss Ryder felt her nipples strain urgently against the thin leather bodice and she pressed her legs tightly together. The memory of the fierce stimulation she experienced earlier was still reverberating between her thighs.
The Steed's black coat intensified with an obsidian glow, like finely polished onyx. A visible aura surrounded his hooves and haunches.
"I think it's working," he said.
"I think you're right," she agreed.
"Then mount up and hold on tight," the Steed advised. "Feel free to squeeze my flanks as firmly as you want with your thighs. Try not to cry out so... fervidly when I jump," he teased.
Miss Ryder wrinkled her mouth. "I was completely naked when you took off galloping last time. Warn me before you do anything so... vigorous," she answered back. "Besides, I'm wearing my leathers now." Though they're so flimsy they do precious little to insulate me from the pounding rhythm of your stride, she thought.
As if he read her mind, the horse circled back thirty feet and took off at a dead run towards the fence. Miss Ryder clutched his mane for dear life and pressed her legs into his massive chest. Less than ten feet away, they seemed certain to crash when the Steed suddenly sprang upward in a prodigious vault.
The horse seemed to float on air for a moment, like a winged Pegasus in flight. Miss Ryder couldn't help breaking into a lilting laugh.
"You're fantastic, Steed!"
The horse landed gracefully on the other side with each of his four hooves touching solidly in succession, and he continued down the path without even so much as breaking stride. Miss Ryder stroked his neck in congratulation.
"We should have no trouble making it to the Dark Tower now," she beamed.
Suddenly, a gleaming steel lance dropped down to bar their way. The Steed scuffed to a stop and cast his eyes down its length to a figure hidden in the shade of a tree.
A flat voice sounded from the darkness, addressing Miss Ryder in a tone laced with disdain.
"So you're the Black Knight."
"Yes," Miss Ryder countered imperiously, "I am the Black Knight. What's it to you?"
A man wearing glossy black armor astride an ebony charger moved out from the shadows to block the path. Beneath his drooping moustache he wore a cold smile.
"So am I."
-oOo-