Welp, I got my email from Black Library saying they weren't interested in my 500 word story. Guess I'll try again next time. In the meantime here's my (very) short story about Eldrad and Vect having a friendly game of chess:
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Asdrubael Vect, lord of Commorragh, set a piece down on the finely crafted game board and sank back in his throne. He took up a flute of black wine and raised it theatrically.
âAnd thus, the trap snaps shut. A shame; I hoped this time the game would last a little longer.â
Eldrad Ulthran sat cross-legged, his eyes fixed on the board, his face inscrutable.
âMy compliments, Asdrubael. Itâs an expertly crafted trap, but not inescapable.â
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A retreat. Vect recognised the beginnings of the Yr-Lashaen defence.
âAh, but there are traps within traps, my old friend. I must say I was sorry to hear of UlthwĂ©âs misfortune in the Elhorin expanse. So many brave souls lostâŠâ
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âThe price of victory.â Eldrad sighed. âOne we are used to paying.â
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âIndeed. I only hope that price doesnât become too dear; your armyâs weakness is well known here in Commorragh. My people see an opportunity for sport and I can hardly deny them.â
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âYour people choose their sport poorly. Our warhost is bloodied, not broken.â
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âMy dear Eldrad, you misunderstand. My concern is for your home, left behind without an army to protect it.â A smile tugged at the corner of Vectâs mouth. âThe history of UlthwĂ© is so full of tragedy; I would hate to see it added to.â
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âThere are other forces that could defend UlthwĂ©.â
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âOther forces? I know of none, except⊠oh!âÂ
Vect leaned forwards sharply and gestured at the board. âYou were right, old friend! Your citadel can yet be saved - you need only sacrifice your priestess.â
There it was. The trap within the trap. The only army that could protect UlthwĂ© was the one guarding Yvraine; the prophet of Ynnead and the most dangerous of Vectâs enemies.
Eldrad sat in silence for a long while, pondering the game, before finally speaking again.
âIt is a fine strategy, Asdrubael. It does, however, contain a flaw.â
Vect smiled indulgently, relaxing into his throne and sipping his wine.
âPlease, dear friend, enlighten me.â
For the first time Eldrad raised his head and looked Vect in the eye. âItâs not my priestess I need to sacrifice.â
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âOh come now, can you not be gracious in-â
Vectâs smile froze as he looked at the board. Eldradâs champion had moved to defend his citadel, just as Vect had planned⊠but instead of the priestess, the piece it had left undefended was a grinning jester.
âIâm afraid the harlequins have had a little fun at your expense,â Eldrad murmured. âYvraine - the real Yvraine - is already beyond your grasp.â
For the briefest moment Eldrad felt his opponentâs anger blaze, white-hot and lethal - and then suddenly it was gone, smothered under an icy calm that was no less dangerous.
âI suppose I must salute you. I am not often so⊠misinformed. You are wrong about one thing though, old friend.âÂ
Vect leaned forwards, his dark, predatory gaze fixed on Eldrad.Â
âNothing is beyond my grasp.â
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