Cursors's Fury

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Tavi made a steeple of his fingers and stared down at the ludus board. Squares of black and white lay in eleven rows of eleven, and painted lead figurines, also of black and white, stood in serried ranks upon them. A second board, five squares by five, rested on a little metal rod, its center over the lower board’s center, occupied by only a few pieces. Casualties of war sat on the table beside the board.

Midgame was well under way, and the pieces were approaching the point where exchanges and sacrifices would have to be made, leading into the endgame. It was the nature of ludus. Tavi’s dark Legions had taken heavier losses than his opponent’s, but he held a stronger position. So long as he kept the game running in his favor-and provided his opponent wasn’t laying some kind of fiendish trap Tavi had overlooked-he stood an excellent chance of victory.

He picked up one of his Lords and swept the piece up onto the raised sky-board, representing the skies above the field of battle, bringing added pressure onto the beleaguered positions of the hosts of the white foe.

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