King's Gambit

By E. A. Rappaport

Ferfolk, leather-skinned warriors from the desert, and humans have been at war for generations. Tens of thousands have died, with no end to the struggle in sight. When his foolproof plan to win the bloody conflict is thwarted by the unexpected appearance of a Ferfolk battalion, regent Baal begins to realize that neither side understands who the real enemy is. Someone or something has been fueling the perpetual fighting, hidden from even the highest levels of command. Can Baal broker a lasting truce and flush out the true mastermind? Or will the two races cling to their mutual hatred and obliterate each other?

The versatile humans, the tree-dwelling Arboreals, the subterranean Teruns, and the warrior Ferfolk have coexisted through millennia of war and peace, but demons from the netherworld have turned their sights on the mortal world and are pushing the four races toward annihilation. If they can join forces, it is not too late for them to fight back and save their home from the onslaught of evil. An epic spanning more than a thousand years, Legends of the Four Races comprises nine fantasy novels which form an interlocking matrix of six distinct trilogies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. A. Rappaport
• Release date: Sep 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781941042243

E. A. Rappaport

E. A. Rappaport graduated from Massachusetts Institute of Technology with degrees in Computer Science and Electrical Engineering. He works as a software engineer for a financial services consulting firm in New York City. Rappaport co-founded StatCard Entertainment, the first company to combine smart card technology with trading cards and internet games. He is a lifelong resident of Orange, CT.

Book preview

Chapter I

This could end the war. Baal paced around the marble table, gazing at wooden figurines representing dozens of army squadrons. He picked up one of the tiny statues and rubbed its smooth surface. Although used countless times before, this time might be the last. Are you sure the numbers are accurate?

His lieutenant, Kusor, conferred with the scouts before approaching.

Within a score at most. Kusor had lost an eye in a skirmish years ago. Since then, his gray hair had grown past his shoulders and was tied into a thick braid. His perpetual frown and clenched jaws made his face appear smaller than most other men.

The war table displayed a landscape ranging from the dense southern forests to the mountainous northern region and from the western wastelands to the Great Ocean. Baal focused on the coastal cities. The Ferfolk couldn’t have made such a glaring error in their strategy. It had to be a trap.

Humans and Ferfolk had been fighting ever since the brutal, leather-skinned warriors appeared from the desert centuries ago, and this was the first chance for victory. Just in time, too. The Ferfolk were becoming more brazen with each attack, recently venturing deep into human territory and killing the queen on her way home from an outing.

Baal crossed the small room to gaze out the window. Past the farmlands and pastures, past the deep waters of Starnum Lake, and past the lands stolen by the Ferfolk were the barren wastelands, a mass of sand and scrub spanning the western portion of the continent. The Ferfolk should have remained in the desert, but they encroached on human territory and brought devastating war. Baal would ensure his strategy was perfect, to protect his wife, his two sons, and all future generations.

Run through the scenario again, he said, but assume four of ours lost for every one of theirs.

Ferfolk warriors are more skilled in battle. Kusor waved over a few servants to reset the board. But not four to one.

Do it, said Baal, and take away half our wizards. They’re less effective against the Ferfolk’s magic resistance.

You’re giving the enemy too much advantage. We should keep the wizards.

Perhaps. Baal ran a pale hand across the stubble atop his head. But I won’t present my plan to the war council unless I’m positive of the outcome.

He’d shaved his head to avoid looking at the gray coming in. Tall and thin, like most wizards, two round scars dotted his left forearm where an arrow nearly found its mark during battle. Two inches to the right and it would have pierced his heart. The Ferfolk were vicious animals. With their tan hides and sharp teeth, if they crawled on all fours, he couldn’t tell them apart from a pack of rabid wolves.

Kusor and the servants reset the figurines to their original positions, allowing Baal to test his strategy again. Why couldn’t the Ferfolk have been satisfied with their home in the desert instead of invading human lands? Perpetual war had claimed countless lives, but Baal would end the bloodshed with one ingenious move, bringing peace to the world.

We’re ready to begin, sir. Kusor moved to his spot beside the table.

Baal glanced at the peaceful countryside before setting the pieces in motion, vowing to keep it this tranquil.

Each servant controlled several figurines under his guidance, while Kusor managed the enemy’s forces. Throughout the simulation, if Kusor made a bad move, Baal allowed him to try again, guaranteeing his plan would succeed against any defense.

As expected, the army suffered devastating losses, but the outcome was the same. Victory. What were a few thousand lives lost compared to everlasting peace?

Reset the table, said Baal, and post guards for the night. Nobody comes into this room until the war council convenes.

At your command. Kusor gave the servants another wave. You heard him.

With little time before the sun rose, Baal returned to his quarters and sneaked into bed, trying not to rouse his wife.

So? Inanna rolled over to face him. Will your plan work?

Even lying in bed, her intense gaze peered into Baal’s mind. Thankfully, he had good news.

Victory is assured. He caressed her shoulder. As long as the King accepts our regrettable losses.

Don’t worry. Inanna’s soft skin was unmarked by a single flaw. He’ll listen to reason.

***

When the morning sunlight touched his eyes, Baal rose from bed and donned his ceremonial robe, which only reached his calves because of his height. Although he’d wanted to lengthen the robe, something else always occupied his time. A pair of tall boots hid his lower legs, allowing him to deal with the robe another day. After smoothing some creases, he returned to the map room, where Kusor still held his post.

I didn’t expect you so early, said Kusor. The council doesn’t convene for another hour.

Everything has to be ready. Baal approached the table. I dreamed we lost the war. Maybe we overlooked a minor detail.

Your plan is perfect, said Kusor. I look forward to downing some ales with you after we destroy their fortress.

The map appeared to be in order. Perhaps Kusor was right. Baal would explain his plan to the council, the King would send instructions to the army commanders, and the war would finally end. Too many people had died, including close friends and family. Baal didn’t know anyone untouched by tragedy, and he couldn’t imagine burying either of his sons. The loss would devastate him.

Let’s run through it again. He hovered over the map. Just for practice.

As Kusor took his position, a servant entered the room.

I’m sorry to disturb you, he said. The King has moved the war council to the great hall.

But I’ve prepared everything here. Baal squeezed his fingers into a fist.

This latest development had thrown off his expectations, but nothing really changed except the venue. He’d still present his novel idea, and he’d still convince the council of its merits. With a deep breath, he relaxed his grip, leaving indentations in his palm. Baal hoped the King’s imagination was vivid enough to envision the scenario, but how likely was that? He slapped the figurines off the map, but two Ferfolk squadrons remained on the table.

***

In the great hall, the King and his advisers surrounded a mahogany table. From his seat beside the king, Baal listened to everyone present their war plans, smiling to himself each time he discovered a fatal flaw in their strategy. Some might win a battle, but all prolonged the conflict. Even the army commanders couldn’t promise more than a solid defense or fewer casualties. Nobody was willing to be creative, to dream they could end the war forever.

When it was his turn to speak, Baal strolled in front of the group and laid both hands on the table’s polished surface.

Aren’t you tired of sending your children to die? he asked. Don’t you want to live without fear of attack? The Ferfolk have made a grave strategic error by sending so many resources to Asurin. If we take advantage of their mistake, this war will end within the month, but we’re running out of time. Please keep an open mind as I explain my plan and do not pass judgment until I have proven its merit.

This is incredible news, my friend, said the King. A hint of brown returned to his eyes, dulled gray since the passing of his wife. Please proceed.

The Ferfolk army has pressed east toward the ocean, hoping to cut us off from the Teruns. To counter their movement, we sent forces to intercept them and shore up our coastal city’s defense. This puts too much focus on one small portion of our kingdom. If Asurin falls, we’ll have no access to Terun weapons, and our remaining forces won’t be sufficient to defend against the Ferfolk battalions. This castle will fall.

None of the commanders voiced disagreement. Baal savored their eager glances.

I propose we pull back our army and institute a full assault on their fortress.

Their looks turned from hope to horror.

In every scenario, we capture their capital, kill their king, and destroy their remaining forces. Within weeks, every Ferfolk man, woman, and child will be dead.

The room grew noisy with mumbles passing between lips and ears. Baal threw his shoulders back and smiled at the King, sure of the decision. Who could deny a guaranteed end to the war? And just in time. With a long march to the Ferfolk stronghold, the more they delayed, the less likely they were to succeed.

I’m no monster, said the King. Allowing the Ferfolk to slaughter our people is barbaric. Asurin relies on our soldiers to defend them. How could you suggest such a vile proposition?

This strategy will protect countless generations. Our children and their children will be safe, living in paradise.

As the King, all citizens are my children. I’d never abandon them. I’m surprised at you, Baal. You’re my closest friend and chief adviser. You should have known better.

I apologize, my liege. Baal shuffled to his chair and sank down into his robe.

If he’d presented in the map room, they would have seen their enemy destroyed under any defense. Maybe the King would grant him a private audience later. Until then, he listened to the commanders pretend to know what they were doing.

***

Before entering his chambers, Baal straightened his robe and forced his lips into a smile. It didn’t help. When he stepped through the door, Inanna closed her eyes and sighed.

You failed to convince the King. She opened her eyes, her tone knocking him down another notch. What happened?

He didn’t want to be remembered as the monster who sacrificed his people. I understand his decision.

Do you? Inanna strolled toward a large cabinet and opened the ornate doors. I thought you’d do anything to protect our children. Hiyon’s training is complete, and he’s ready to join the next campaign.

I know what he wants, said Baal. I’ll do anything to keep him safe, but it’s out of my control. The King has decided.

Not necessarily. Inanna grabbed two vials from the top shelf. I put these together, just in case.

The liquid inside each vial bubbled furiously, riled at being moved from its hiding spot.

You shouldn’t play with that stuff anymore, said Baal. If they ever got hold of it–

They’re older now. Besides, even as children they knew not to open my closet.

Baal laughed. And you trusted them not to be curious? I never followed my parents’ rules.

This batch has an antidote, said Inanna. It poses no danger to our children.

Then what use is it? The King’s alchemist will whip up the antidote and save his life.

That buffoon isn’t half as skilled as I am. Inanna flicked her long hair. It would take him weeks to identify the poison and more to locate the ingredients.

She handed him a vial filled with a bright green liquid.

This is for the dungeon guards and the Ferfolk prisoner. It will affect their minds as if they were drunk. When they come to, they won’t remember what happened.

Baal reached for the vial but stared at the potion in her other hand. A viscous black liquid undulated in the glass, drawing his attention.

This one’s for the King. She placed the vial in his hand.

But I’ve known him my entire life, said Baal. I can’t–

Would you rather have me raped and your children murdered by those animals when they overrun this city? She tore her shirt open. They already murdered our queen. What do you think will happen next?

I’ll never let them harm you or the children!

Baal held the second vial away from his body. Regicide was treason. If he were caught, his family would be executed, including his aunts, uncles, and cousins. He glanced at Inanna, steadfast in her determination to protect their children. She’d always given him excellent advice, including when he rebelled against his father and quit sorcery. If he’d continued learning magic, he would have been a mere battalion commander, summoning various spirits to supplement his warriors’ strength. Instead, he could alter the course of history by ending the Ferfolk threat. He only had to listen to his wife.

How will I administer the dose? Baal closed his hand around the black vial. It’s too suspicious if the King dies after I handle his food or drink.

Inanna wrapped her thin fingers around his.

This poison doesn’t take effect immediately, she said. His symptoms will appear after an hour. Go to the dungeon and raise an alarm about the Ferfolk prisoner escaping. When reinforcements show up, hand over the drunken guards.

I understand, said Baal. Nobody will believe them when they say they remember nothing, and they’ll be hung soon after.

His two sons would be able to raise their future families in a peaceful world, without threat of retaliation.

***

While following Inanna’s orders, Baal watched himself run through the events. He didn’t poison the King. His body executed the instructions without interference from his brain. The prison guards, initially concerned about his appearance in the dungeon, welcomed his suggestion to unlock the Ferfolk’s cage and harass the filthy animal. When they were done, one sip of the green potion convinced the prisoner to wander through the halls yelling at every human he encountered. Baal summoned a minor air spirit to fly over the ocean, fill the two vials with stones, and cast them to the bottom of the sea. Calling an air spirit was the one spell he’d mastered before turning his sights to the King’s court instead of the library.

He’d barely reached his quarters when a loud knock set his heart racing. Inanna’s gentle touch on his shoulder gave him the strength to open the door. Two advisers entered his chamber with stern faces.

Our king is dead, said Mesor, an older man who’d helped Baal gain his prestigious position. The Ferfolk prisoner escaped the dungeon and murdered our beloved leader.

You’ve brought terrible news. Baal glanced at his wife. Especially with our recent losses in battle.

The prince comes of age in four years, said Mesor. As the King’s chief adviser, you must run state affairs until he is crowned.

Baal stepped forward. It is with a heavy heart that I accept the position of regent.

The prince is too young to avenge his father’s death, said Inanna. Your first act must be to regain his honor.

The Ferfolk assassin and the guards who allowed him to escape will be hanged in the morning, said Mesor. The prince’s honor will remain intact.

That Ferfolk dog was sent to assassinate the King, said Inanna. We must punish those who gave the orders, or our prince could never lead his people without shame.

My wife speaks the truth. Earlier today, our King claimed all citizens were his children. The Ferfolk have taken our mother and our father from us. They are all guilty.

Mesor stepped aside as Baal strode through the door.

There’s still time to implement my war plan, said Baal. We should have started this morning, but we’ve only lost half a day. Summon the commanders and prepare the army to move out. In a fortnight, we’ll have taken the Ferfolk capital, and within the month, every Ferfolk will be dead.

Nothing could go wrong. He’d made sure of it.

Chapter II

It wasn’t the horses that distracted Aleyin from his work. Clinking metal drowned out the heavy hooves clomping against the ground. Swords in their scabbards clanged against buckles, alerting the countryside to a Ferfolk battalion heading to face the enemy. The brave soldiers would return as victors or die as heroes, defending the kingdom against the evil humans.

Aleyin stared at the procession until they disappeared. One day, he’d join their ranks, despite his father’s objection. He grabbed a hay bale and hoisted it onto his cart. How could he be denied? Ferfolk were supposed to be warriors, not priests or farmers, and he was already taller and stronger than his peers. He tossed hay onto the pile with increasing force until he accidentally knocked everything over. After righting the cart, Tanith stood two paces away. Her short chestnut hair brushed against her neck, and her eyes were the color of pristine sand. The morning sunlight cast a warm glow across her rough skin.

What did that cart do to you? Her smile could bring joy to the most troubled spirits.

Sorry, said Aleyin. I didn’t mean to knock it over.

Tanith helped him load the remaining bales. After she heaved the last one on top, she ran her fingers across a crack in the front wheel.

Don’t worry, she said. I’ll tell my father we hit a stone in the road.

You don’t have to lie. I’ll get it repaired, and he’ll never know it was broken.

That’ll cost you a week’s pay.

I’m not working here for the money. Besides, the cooper owes me a favor. It’s not a barrel, but he can patch it.

They walked in tandem, pulling the cart together, as they’d done since they were kids. Back then it was harvested vegetables or buckets of water, but they’d carved half the ruts on the property.

When he passed some sticks on the side of the road, Aleyin released his cart handle, forcing Tanith to stop. He claimed the thinner branch and flung the other one to her.

Come into town with me, he said. The festival’s still going on.

I’m not done with my chores. Tanith caught the stick and held it defensively.

Aleyin jumped at her and swung his crude weapon, which Tanith easily blocked. He expected her to counterattack, but she just stared at the cart.

Finish your chores later. Aleyin waved his stick around like a sword. The tournament starts at noon. Go ahead. Tell me you don’t want to enter. We haven’t been practicing every day because we needed the exercise.

Not only did her smile brighten his heart, it belied anything she’d say to the contrary. She couldn’t resist a good sword fight.

I have to feed the animals and prepare the seeds for next season’s crops.

If you win the tournament, your father will be so proud, he won’t care about a missed day. He’ll assign the extra work to me tomorrow.

He lunged forward, but Tanith blocked his stroke and swatted him on the shoulder.

Fine. She snapped the stick in half. But you’re helping me finish the chores after we lose, regardless of whether my father assigns them to you.