Chapter Four: Two Black Kings
Willow stood at the edge of the clearing, kicking at the grass impatiently. "Let's get a move on, old man! I want to get out of this forest by nightfall!" she shouted angrily.
"Well, if you'd lend some help, pal, maybe packing up would go faster," Maxwell growled, slinging a poorly made backpack over his shoulder. "I know your arms aren't broken."
It had been approximately a week since their little truce was made and Maxwell had gotten the urge to sever Willow's head from her neck on several occasions. She was bossy, loud, and complained far too much. How annoying. Maxwell almost wished he was still on that horrible throne. Almost.
"Ugh! Fine..." Willow stomped over and stuffed a few random items into a bag of her own, not really paying attention to what she grabbed. She accidentally picked up Maxwell's strange sword for a moment. "Gah!" She flung the sword away quickly like it had bitten her. The shadowy sword skittered through the ashes of the long dead campfire.
Willow held her hand. Her hand tingled strangely and just holding that thing made her see things moving at the edge of her field of vision. She whirled to stare at Maxwell and stammered, "How c-can you stand to touch th-that thing?"
Maxwell calmly walked over to his Dark Sword and picked it up, dusting the ashes off the blade. The man didn't seem to be affected by the strange blade. "When you've been sitting on a nightmare of a throne for as long as I have, you get used to the insanity," he said dryly. "Come on. Before it gets dark."
Willow kept a good distance away from Maxwell as they walked. She also seemed to stop complaining as well. It was actually quite pleasant for Maxwell. He managed to collect some firewood without her trying to set trees on fire behind his back.
She was quiet for a while at least...
"Hey... What's a table doing in the middle of a forest?" Willow asked suddenly, breaking Maxwell's beautiful silence.
"If that's your attempt at making a joke," Maxwell started, swinging his axe at a tree.
"I'm serious. Look!" She pointed and sure enough, between two big bent pine trees sat a table and five chairs. An old gramophone sat in the grass not far from the table. The record it played had an upbeat ragtime tune. The pair walked up to the odd set up, Maxwell leading by several strides.
"That's enough of that," the man hissed, quickly removing the needle from the record. "Accursed thing..."
Willow examined the table and chairs curiously. A chess board rested in the center of the dark wooden table. Five detailed chess pieces were arranged in a line in the middle of the board, three white pawns and two black kings.
"I don't play chess," Willow commented. "But I'm pretty sure there's only supposed to be one black king."
Maxwell eyed the chess board with rising suspicion. "Just don't sit on any of the chairs," he warned Willow.
Willow gave him a questioning look but she followed his advice without a complaint. The tall, thin chairs didn't look too comfortable anyway. They looked... Alive and angry.
Maxwell got extremely tempted to kick one of the chairs over when the gramophone suddenly started playing again. He froze, startled by the appearance of someone rather familiar.
"Hey, PAL," said the familiar figure sitting in a chair across the table from Maxwell and Willow. "Having fun?"
"Maxwell, do you.. Know him?" Willow asked nervously. She held a unlit torch defensively in front of her.
Maxwell straightened, making himself calm. "You look well, Wilson. I was just wondering what had become of you," he greeted.
Wilson let out a cold laugh, leaning his elbows on the table. He picked up one of the black kings. "It's nice to see you too, Maxwell," the scientist purred as he tossed the chess piece between his hands. "It's been a while hasn't it? Did you know that time works differently here? Yes, it seems that while you spend a few hours out here, I spend DECADES on that horrible throne. Isn't that interesting, Maxwell?" A fist tightened around the chess piece.
Maxwell took a step back, motioning for Willow to do the same. "That's a shame. I guess I should have tried to warn you," he responded.
Wilson's terrifying smile never faded. "I guess you should have," he repeated, a bitter note in his voice.
Willow was tempted to turn and flee but she had no idea what this Wilson was capable of. She did take a cautious step back, waiting for Maxwell to make a move.
"I do hope there's no hard feelings, pal," Maxwell said. "After all, you didn't have to let me off the throne."
Wilson sat up straight in the chair, raising an eyebrow. "Oh no. No hard feelings," he purred. "I've just been a bit bored. However... I have thought of some wonderful ways to entertain myself." He gently placed the chess piece back on the board and tapped it with a finger.
"Like what?" Willow spoke up. She winced at the grin Wilson gave her. She concluded that Wilson was creepier than Maxwell.
"I am a scientist, dear," Wilson answered. "What better way to entertain myself than conducting a few experiments?" There was that dark chuckle again. He gave the pair an intense stare before chuckling, "And I have the perfect test subjects."
"Oh... That's nice, pal," Maxwell said with a slightly nervous tone, nudging Willow. The two of them began to back up slowly.
"Where are you going?" Wilson asked with a thin smile and a tilt of his head. "I was just about to begin my first experiment. What would happen if you mix two survivors and two angry tree guards?" He snapped his fingers and the huge, bent trees snapped and creaked loudly.
Willow let out a terrified shriek.