A Game of Chess

As the door to Solace closed behind them, Checkmate felt his heart nearly stop. Before their eyes stood a creature with an appearance that was all too familiar. The creature stood tall, its back straight, and a dagger the color of blood in its right hoof. Its eyes were a sickly violet, its coat the color of rust, and its mane auburn.

In short, the creature was very smiliar to Asgard, with the only exceptions being its dagger, eyes, and that expression on its face. It was the same expression that Wendigo always held: A cruel sneer, and eyes that showed nothing but callousness.

"Ah, so what do we have here?" the creature asked, smirking, in a voice that was slightly lower than that of Asgard. "Oh, I see. So that fool Asgard sent out a bunch of idiotic mercenaries, eh? Well -" he laughed "- this should be fun."

There was no mistaking the similarities - personality-wise, at least - between the lord of Darkfrost and the beast who stood before them now.

"W-Wendigo...?" breathed Checkmate, horrified.

"Wendigo? That bastard?" the monster laughed. "Please. My name is Hecatoncheir, the twin born in fire, the one damned into the lowest of Tartarus's floors! I am the beast feared and despised, and I shall ensure that you all are..." He stopped, then, and his eyes glimmered. "Ah, the Glacius... I get it, now... Oh, yes, it makes perfect sense... Well, this should be quite enjoyable for me!"

"Cut the crap," Dusk growled, stepping towards it. "You're the one who killed Illia, correct?"

Hecatoncheir's eyes flashed, and he grit his teeth. "An old friend of hers, I presume?"

"You could say that," admitted Dusk. "So tell me, then, how is it that you bested her, one of the greatest sleipnirs to ever live?"

"The same way I broke free of Tartarus all those years ago," replied Hecatoncheir, as he stepped around them. "Hm, so this is the best that Asgard could offer? A shame. I should have you all begging for death in... oh, about an hour or so."

"Do you want to test that theory?" Dusk asked, smiling ruefully, and holding out Constellation.

The beast laughed, its head drawn back. Exactly like Wendigo. The only true differences seemed to be their appearances and the fact that Hecatoncheir seemed to revel in his vile and sadistic nature even more than the king of Darkfrost ever could.

"Do you truly intend to best me?" Hecatoncheir asked, still laughing. "I've fought against creatures more dangerous than you could even imagine."

"How interesting," Dusk replied, "because so have I."

"Then this shall be more fun than I could even imagine!" Hecatoncheir said, and he sneered. "I'll start with you, of course. You look to be the most dangerous of these louts, so it should be best for you to be the first to die. The rest of your companions can watch, then, as their one chance at victory begins to crumble. Into. DUST!"

Hecatoncheir lunged, then, and struck out towards Dusk. The beast attacked in a way that showed neither grace nor beauty, instead flailing away with attacks that seemed designed for power, and nothing more. Dusk blocked and dodged these graceless swings, whilst countering them with attacks of his own.

Then, in the middle of the battle, Hecatoncheir seemed to alter his tactics, as his techniques became more advanced and graceful. He began to apply a strange beauty to his own moves that seemed to take Dusk completely by surprise, as the mercenary was forced back, slightly.

"Wh-what the hell...?!" he breathed, "You... you've been...!"

"But of course!" replied Hecatoncheir, and he laughed. "You think me to be a fool, I'm sure. An ignorant child who knows nothing of swordplay. Thus, I've been using only that which you expect: the skills of a novice, followed by the moves of a master." He ran his tongue over the blade, and Checkmate could see that the dagger - its true color grey - was, actually, covered in blood. "Although I must admit that you're quite skilled, as well. And that's what shall make this even more delightful for me..."

He lunged once more, and, this time, Dusk was prepared for the strike. Rather than dodge, the unicorn mercenary met it head on, using his own masterful skills to match that of the cruel sleipnir who fought back at him, in a style far too similar to that of one who was far too familiar.

"Wendigo..." breathed Checkmate. "This bastard's almost exactly like -!"

His words were unheard, however, as the two combatants continued their fight. Hecatoncheir simply struck at Dusk, and style was wretchedly familiar. It was impossible to deny the similarities between the beast before them and the lord of Darkfrost, regardless of the fact that they were clearly different ponies.

Perhaps there was just a Wendigo for every type of creature, and they'd just found the one for sleipnirs.

"Excellent form, I must admit," said the sadistic creature, his face twisted into a foul sneer. "However, I'm afraid that this game is at an end!"

Those words sent a shiver down Checkmate's spine. They were so familiar, and yet so different when this new bastard spoke them. When Wendigo said them, there was something odd - indescribable - in them, but when Hecatoncheir said those words, there was nothing more than a sadistic, insane delight, perhaps more so than the heartless bastard himself.

Immediately as he finished speaking, however, several arms - Checkmate counted seventeen - emerged from the ground, composed entirely of sand and stone, and swiped at Dusk as he and Hecatoncheir fought around them. The mercenary dodged them expertly, not even watching the ground, but instead the one wielding the blood-covered dagger as they fought.

"Ha!" laughed Hecatoncheir. "I haven't had this much fun in years! Come on, Dusk! Let's see your true power!"

Dusk paused, for just a moment, and stared at the creature. "Wait," he growled, "how did you know my - Agh!" He looked down, then, just as one of the hands grabbed his leg, and tightened itself until it became like iron.

"Oh, did I just distract you?" asked the sleipnir, mockingly, although he looked somewhat nervous. "My sincerest apologies, Dusk. Now to kill you. Slowly, and painfully!"

Checkmate didn't know what compelled him to move when he did. Instead, his hooves seemed to move on their own, as his sword was drawn, and he rushed towards Hecatoncheir as he raised the dagger above his head to stab into Dusk. The Glacius met the sleipnir's flesh, and a blood-curdling scream enveloped the area.

Blood ran from a wound in Hecatoncheir's left side, where the Glacius had penetrated his flesh, and where it had since exited. The creature continued to howl, then, and Checkmate watched in awe as a change came over him.

The transparent body of the cruel sleipnir began to alter, becoming more opaque, until, at last, he was completely solid.

"No!" he gasped, stepping back. "That's... No!"

Hecatoncheir's eyes settled on Checkmate. "Oh, I won't worry about you now, Dusk!" he shouted, in rage and agony. "I'm going to tear this little maggot apart FIRST!"

Another three arms emerged from the ground, gripping onto Checkmate's legs that were not holding weapons and locking him in place. Hecatoncheir stepped towards him, slowly, gripping at the wound on his side.

"You're going to DIE, Checkmate Vigarde!" he hissed. "I'm going to tear you apart until NOTHING REMAINS! I'm going to shatter your damned soul and send you to Hell where you belong!"

All of the others had closed their eyes at this point, not wanting to witness what was about to happen.

Then, out of nowhere, a new sound entered the area, and a large mandible emerged from beneath the sand, piercing directly into Hecatoncheir's furthest-back-left leg, and another howl of agony and rage filled the area.

"DAMN YOU!" screamed Hecatoncheir. "DAMN YOU ALL! I -" his eyes widened, and he leapt back, his back-left leg tearing slightly on the antlion's pincer "- I... I can't... No, not now! This is a terrible time for you to want to - Ugh, dammit!"

The beast turned then, and didn't even look back at them. "You little bastards," he hissed. "We'll finish this another time, and then I'll tear ALL OF YOU APART!"

Then, he vanished - or he was absorbed, as it seemed - into the sand, along with the hands that he'd crafted, as they all sank into the desert and disappeared from sight.

"Dammit," muttered Checkmate. "We almost had him..."

Rainbow flew up to him, and put her face close to his. "Almost had him?!" she shouted. "He was just about to kill you! You and Dusk both! How is that 'almost had him'?!"

"She has a point, Checkmate," murmured Dusk, as he rubbed the area where the hand had gripped him. "That was too close for my tastes. We severely underestimated him, and look what almost happened to you because of it."

"What almost happened to me?" Checkmate asked. "He was going to kill you, too!"

"I've stepped away from worse," muttered the mercenary. "Believe me, Checkmate. I can take care of myself, but you all can't. Let's face the facts: we're fighting an enemy that seems to be an even more sadistic version of Wendigo, but he also seems a bit weaker, as well. Although I do have to admit that you're probably the luckiest damned stallion on the face of the planet. I mean, honestly, would any of you have expected an antlion to just burst from the ground and stab through Hecatoncheir's leg at just the right point?"

"We do have the stupidest luck ever," muttered Valice. "I mean, let's look at the examples, shall we? First, we escape from Deun, enter an underground tunnel, skip several days of travel to get to Solace, befriend an antlion, and said antlion shows up at just the right moment to save our lives. I swear to Chronos, our luck is absolutely ridiculous."

"How can you tell that it's the same antlion?" Dusk asked, bemused.

Valice pointed, and Checkmate and Dusk followed her hoof towards the creature, which now was nuzzling Fluttershy and purring like it was some sort of cat, instead of an all-powerful predator.

"Of course," Dusk muttered, and shrugged, "but should we really be questioning our luck? We managed to fend off Hecatoncheir, and somehow Fluttershy was able to befriend an antlion which just saved our lives. This is what happens here in this universe, and such is just how it works."

"I guess so," murmured Valice, before she turned away. "In any case, though, what should we do next? We've driven Hecatoncheir off for the time being, but I don't think that he's going to take this loss lightly, and once he's intangible again..."

"Indeed," Dusk replied, and he turned towards the others. "All of you, I must tell you all something that's been bothering me since we first spoke with Asgard at the gate. I couldn't say it because the sleipnirs could have easily been spying on us, but if we go somewhere that they won't be watching us, we should be safe. Also, Khaza will be able to speak again, at least, so that should be reason enough that we leave the area around Solace."

"Where to?" Checkmate asked.

"Fluttershy," Dusk started, "would you mind asking that antlion if it would be alright allowing us to enter into its cave to speak of this matter? It's very important, and will perhaps change all of your views on this little journey of ours entirely..."

The yellow mare looked at the antlion, and started to speak. Oddly enough, the creature seemed to actually understand exactly what she was saying, and seemed to communicate back by shaking or nodding its head.

After around five minutes of communication, she turned back towards them. "She says that it's alright," said Fluttershy, her voice quiet, yet surprisingly firm. "However, she doesn't want us to spend too much time in there. Jadetails have a surprisingly good sense of smell, apparently. But she'll be fine if we're only there for about an hour or so."

Dusk grinned. "Perfect," he said. "An hour is all that we'll need."

Spike held the cards up, making sure that the crusaders wouldn't peak over at his hand, and that Lynar and Cora wouldn't be able to see the smirk on his face at the full house.

Somehow, the two sleipnirs had convinced the four youths to try and play poker with them. Somehow, they'd fallen for it. The totals were with the youths and the captain at no wins, and Lynar at fifty-seven.

At last, however, Spike held in his claws the one hand that could win him this game, that could give him the triumph that he truly desired!

"Sorry," said Lynar, although he was grinning from ear-to-ear. "Royal flush." The gatekeeper laid the cards on the ground, in order from ace to ten.

The group of five groaned as he collected his winnings - which, by this point, consisted of one of Spike's scales, small rocks from the crusaders, and seventy-three bits from Cora.

"Another game?" asked Lynar, innocently, as he dealt out the cards once more.

"Sure, but no more betting," muttered Cora, rubbing her temples with two of her eight hooves. "I swear to Fear and Chronos, I'm not going to be able to get any food this month if this continues..."

Apple Bloom leaned forward. "How are ya so good at this?" she asked.

Lynar grinned. "Well, since you've all fallen so far behind, I'll tell you," he said. "As you all know, each of us sleipnirs has a special talent, right?"

"Like our cutie marks!" piped up Scootaloo. "Isn't that right?"

"Cutie marks?" the gatekeeper asked, casting Cora a glance.

The captain shrugged. "I think they mean their talent signs," she replied, and looked over at them. "Leave it to Celestia to come up with a name as cutesy and pure as that..."

"Well, they're somewhat similar," admitted Lynar, as he held his cards up once more. "In a manner of speaking, of course. For example, however, each of us has one specific ability that we can perform -"

"We know that part!" snapped Sweetie Belle. "We just want to know what your talent is!"

Lynar didn't take his eyes off them, but spoke. "Huh. Not a bad hand, kid," he said, and he looked over at the unicorn filly. "Two aces, a king, and two queens? You're getting a bit lucky, aren't you?"

Sweetie looked down at her cards, and let out a gasp. "How did you do that?" she gasped. "That's amazing!"

"It's why they commissioned me as the gatekeeper," explained Lynar. "I can see through solid objects." He laid down his hand. "Huh, guess I win again."

The group let out another groan, as they laid down their own cards to the ground. Of course, Lynar had still won.

"Kinda like x-ray vision?" Spike asked.

"Somewhat like that," replied Lynar. "However, all of our abilities have drawbacks or limits. I can only see through objects that have a high heat, such as volcanic walls. Cora can scan creatures and learn of their strengths, weaknesses, and elemental affinities, but she can also read into their pasts and agonies; she rarely sees Asgard, and he always requests that she turn off her scanner whenever they do talk. Even Hecatoncheir, that big, bad guy that your siblings and friends are fighting has limits to his skills. The more hands he makes with his magic, the more energy it drains from him, and his power drains quickly. That's why he often uses only anywhere between ten and twenty arms."

He dealt out more cards. "What about all of you?" he asked. "What are your talents?"

Scootaloo hung her head. "We don't know," she admitted. "That's why we're here, because we're trying to get our cutie- er, talent signs!"

Cora chuckled. "You can't rush these things," she said. "It took me at least a century to discover my own abilities, and Lynar here -" she gestured to him "- how long was it?"

"Two-hundred and eighty-six years," replied the gatekeeper, and he chuckled. "Then again, most of us sleipnirs here in Solace are several thousand years old, with our oldest, Asgard, being at around three-thousand or so."

"Th-three-thousand?" breathed Spike. "That's incredible!"

"Indeed," said Cora. "I think he's even older than Princess Luna. Certainly not older than her night, but Chronos was able to take care of that on his own, I've heard."

"Huh," murmured Sweetie Belle, now looking over her new cards, "so you sleipnirs are about as old as the windigoes?"

Lynar grimaced. "Ugh, I understand that Checkmate desires to help them, yet would you mind not bringing them up around here? We're enemies after all, or at least not allies. Certainly, I've no problems with them, but you never know just who might be listening..."

Cora cast him a look. "I'm the captain of Asgard's soldiers, Lynar," she said, bluntly. "I think I can say as I please."

"But yes," Cora continued, "we're exactly their age, actually. Sleipnirs and windigoes were both created by Lady Fear and Hatred - who is now dead, unfortunately -, respectively, over forty-five-hundred years ago. They say it was after a great, monstrous creature was banished from our world, and the two siblings desired to craft races that could deal with it in case it ever returned, but we've been lucky so far. Their sister, Love, later - about two-thousand years afterwords - decided to take a chance for it, as well, and made her own race, the changelings, so that they could deal with this beast, just in case." She stabbed at the ground with one of her middle hooves. "Naturally, it has yet to return, and it would appear that both the windigoes and the changelings have fallen from their former grace thanks to their leaders. Asgard is particularly livid towards those two for what they've done to their once-powerful races, although it can be said that Chrysalis is at least trying to better her kind. Wendigo is doing but driving them towards ruin, and he's been reveling in it for centuries."

"Huh," repeated Sweetie, as she continued to look over her cards, "so you're telling us that changelings are actually good?"

"Well, they're not evil, at least," replied Cora, and she smiled slightly. "Many of them simply want the best for their kind. Why do you think that they invaded Canterlot? It was all so that they wouldn't starve in this world ruled by hatred. Now, that's not to say that there's anything wrong with hatred; in small amounts, it can be quite healthy for somepony so long as it's not directed towards another living creature, but when you gather such a massive amount -" she laid down her cards: An eight, three tens, and a two "- you get Darkfrost, and what that bastard has done to it. I think that Asgard would have liked it more if Rolan was still in charge, but I guess that a hierarchy must eventually change. Just look at our nation, and what Asgard has done to help us since Illia's death. What I'm trying to say is that nothing in this world is black and white; there's always a grey side to things, and the only true evils that I can think of are Hecatoncheir and Wendigo themselves."

Lynar rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, I swear, Cora, sometimes you're worse than some of those windigoes when it comes to giving information." he grinned. "Of course, they were the ones who asked about it."

"Right," she grinned back at him, "but it looks like you've lost this round."

Lynar glanced down, and his eyes widened. Across from him, at Sweetie Belle's hooves, there sat four aces and a king.

"Haha!" he laughed, and he clapped with his two frontmost hooves. "Good show, kid! I guess I was a bit too wrapped up in Cora's story to pay too much attention to that. Maybe your talent is gambling."

"Please don't," Spike begged, as the three crusaders cast each other knowing smiles, and the dragon clamped his hands over his ears.

"CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS GAMBLERS, YAY!" came the scream of the three youths.

"Excellent job, Lynar," muttered Cora, pressing a hoof to her left temple. "Not only do you seem to have set three innocent children on the path towards becoming gambling addicts like yourself, but you've also caused me permanent ear damage."

"Well, they needn't worry about that," said the gatekeeper. "After all, they don't have the marks now, and we've played sixty games or so at this point. So I think that's a bust."

"Aww..." came the groan, in unison, as the three fillies checked their sides.

"Well, at least we'll have something to tell the others once they get back," said Spike, standing up. "We've certainly learned a lot more than I would think from a poker game..."

"Indeed," Lynar started to clean up the cards, as well. "However, it would also appear that your friends will be a bit late. I can't see them in the desert, but I can't see Hecatoncheir, either. They must be giving chase, but I'm sure that they'll make it back soon, especially considering that Dusk is traveling with them."

"How do y'all know Dusk, anyway?" asked Apple Bloom. "Ah mean, are y'all friends of his or somethin'?"

"Let's just say that Dusk is truly an interesting pony," Lynar replied, the fifty-two cards now stacked into a deck. "He's one of the most powerful and dangerous mercenaries on the face of the planet, and the reason behind that is rather simple once you learn it..."

"What's the reason?" Scootaloo asked, leaning in. Clearly, she was excited to possibly learn more about his origins after being brushed off nearly every time by the odd mercenary.

"You'll have to learn it for yourself," replied Lynar, as he stood up. "That's one of the joys of life, after all. Sometimes, you must see these things with your own eyes. Otherwise, you may not believe it."

The gatekeeper stood still for about fifteen seconds, cast a glance at the deck, and looked back at the fillies. "Say," he started, "do any of you know how to play 'nervous breakdown'?"