Alice In Chains Page 4

  The next morning the Queen led Alice a little way through the trees until they came to the edge of the wood. Alice caught her breath. Beyond was an incredible vista.

  What she had taken to be a wood was in fact part of a great forest, which capped the summit of a high steep hillside. The hill was part of a continuous and unnaturally straight range that extended left and right as far as Alice could see. It overlooked a broad flat plain which at first glance resembled aerial pictures Alice had seen of sprawling crop fields in the plains of America, crossed by occasional roads and right-angled fences creating an unnatural checkerboard effect. But even those artificial landscapes had not been quite so precisely regimented. This land was partitioned into an array of perfectly regular squares all aligned in exact columns and rows and fading into the haze of the horizon. Of course, this was the beginning of the Looking Glass story. The plain was the setting for the living chess game Alice’s namesake had played. She had read that story to fix the idea of Underland in her mind, so perhaps it was not surprising that she should have arrived here.

  But the strange land was far larger than she had imagined, with many more than the sixty-four squares of a normal chessboard. And the longer she looked the more she noticed other details not mentioned in the original story. The divisions between the squares themselves appeared misty and unreal, as though not being quite in focus. Some squares gave the eye-watering impression of containing more land within the same external boundaries than their neighbours, or else they were much darker than those about them, suggesting they somehow enclosed blocks of twilight.

  ‘This is the Boardland,’ the Queen said. ‘It is the great battle ground where my kind have fought countless wars over the years.’ Her eyes grew bright as though recalling former glories. ‘How we bestrode the land in those days! What strategies we employed, what titanic struggles were played out! We soared across the squares and the natives bowed before us. They respected our power, you see. They knew we fought by the code of the noblest of games.’

  ‘You mean chess, Mistress?’ Alice ventured.

  ‘Of course I mean chess, girl!’ the Queen snapped. ‘What else is so pure, or offers such a challenge to the intellect? It is the supreme challenge of mind and valour.’ She sighed. ‘Alas, it is all gone now.’

  Real battles played out on a battlefield-sized board according to the rules of chess, Alice thought. Well that made a kind of sense. Chess had developed as a symbolic version of warfare, and great military leaders in the past were supposed to have played it to hone their tactical skills in readiness for the real thing. In Underland it had simply been taken to a logical, if extreme, conclusion.

  ‘What happened, Mistress?’ she asked tentatively.

  The Queen’s face set. ‘We impressed our rules and ourselves too strongly upon the land. As our games grew in scope the field of play was turned about to make the challenge greater, and we took our sides at each cardinal point. Our armies swept the Boardland from every direction. And, in time, it responded, one might say. At first the divisions between the battle squares were simple physical markers such as fences and ditches. With use they grew higher and wider, though this troubled us little as we could always leap across them. But gradually the very air began to resist us, so it took more effort to pass from one square to the next. Sometimes a weak point had to be sought before a move could be made. The pace of the game faltered. As it did so the squares began to change in nature, taking on different characters. Our beautiful regular battlefield degenerated into the patchwork you see down there.

  ‘Yet the natives hardly seemed inconvenienced by the changes, passing as they would between the squares and spreading their settlements across the land. Eventually we fought to a stalemate and were forced to retreat beyond the edge of the Boardland while they flourished.’ The Queen fell silent, as though in mourning for what she had lost.

  What passed for reality in Underland was actually plastic and malleable and Alice knew it could, literally, be shaped by imagination and dreams if they were strong enough. Apparently the chesspeople lived by a set of rules, the established moves of the game, that governed their behaviour in battle. A knight could not move directly onto an adjacent square, but had to hop over it and then shift one square to the left or right, a bishop could only move along a diagonal on squares the same colour it started on, and so on. Even the Queen, the most powerful piece in the game, could not change direction during the course of any one move. To them, divisions between squares, no more than a line on a board or the junction of black and white, became impassable barriers in this reality if their permitted move did not allow them to cross it. Yes, there was a certain logic to that. And they had played their games across the Boardland from different directions, so at one time or another any division between any two squares could not be crossed within the rules. Somehow the land itself absorbed the concept of these boundaries and responded with a sort of positive feedback. The barriers became more substantial, at least to the chesspeople. Was it trying to shut them out or merely amplifying their wishes, Alice wondered? And the barriers had extended upward. Presumably that was the cause of the hazy divisions between the squares she could see in front of her. Now what did that remind her of? Of course: force fields. That was a modern science fiction concept that had obviously filtered down here and found a new function to serve. Apparently the fields were selective if, according to the Queen, they did not significantly affect the locals. Presumably they were immune because they did not live by the rules of the game.

  Alice felt pleased with herself at her rationalising, but she was still not sure exactly why the Queen was confiding in her, nor why the chesspeople had not taken the obvious course of action. She asked innocently, ‘Why didn’t you just return home when you could not play any more, Mistress?’

  The Queen blinked and then glared at her in disbelief. ‘What? Abandon the tournament? Capitulate? Leave victory to the Alabastrines? Never!’

  Alice shivered under the force of her indignant wrath. ‘Sorry, Mistress,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t understand.’

  With an effort the Queen appeared to contain her anger. ‘No, I suppose I should not expect a simple creature like you to understand our ways. We of Stauntonia are a superior breed, one of the oldest peoples of Underland.’

  Maybe so, but that has not stopped you being forced off the Boardland, Alice thought to herself. Aloud she said, ‘What happened next, Mistress?’

  The Queen grimaced, as though burdened by the memory. ‘The game … changed. Something new appeared in the Boardland; a device of power. None know where it came from, only that it was called the “Crown of Auria”. Its possession is now the only means to resolve the game. So we began one last crusade to win it for ourselves, as did the Alabastrines. But the barriers had become too strong and its location changed. We were reduced to gleaning information from the natives as to its whereabouts. But neither we nor our enemy could hunt it down before it moved again. The game drew on too long and the will to continue failed in some while others were scattered across the board following futile trails. We lost the respect of the natives and our power waned. There are few of us left playing now, but we cannot abandon this last game. It must end here!’ The Queen considered Alice for a moment and shook her head. ‘But what is the use? How can a mere girling comprehend such things?’

  ‘But I do, Mistress,’ Alice said, ignoring the slight on her intelligence. ‘It must be due to the influence of my world on Underland. There are so many games played there now, not just board games but computer games and even computer chess, it’s not surprising things change down here. This Crown of Auria sounds like a quest object from a fantasy role-playing game. Fantasy games and films are really huge at the moment, so that’s probably where it came from. It fits right in with your needing something to end your war. But you’ll probably have to go on one last quest to find it. That’s how it works in the stories.’

  The Queen was looking at her, if not with respect, at least with a
slightly higher appraisal of her worth. ‘I sensed some special quality about you. An adventurous nature unusual in a girling, yet also with some capacity for deeper thought. Now you have demonstrated unexpected understanding of the challenge that faces us.’

  ‘Thank you, Mistress,’ Alice said.

  ‘I cannot enter the boardland without alerting my enemies, but you, a mere girling, can perhaps pass unnoticed. Look down at the Boardland. Do you see the field to the right of the one directly below us? Now count eight squares north from that.’

  Alice counted. In the dim distance she came to a hazy dark square.

  ‘That is where all clues say the Crown now lies, heavily guarded,’ the Queen said. ‘The square before it contains a large native town called “Brillig”. Just to the north of that is a small wood. There you will meet with Sir Rubin, one of my most loyal warriors, who even now is making his way there from another part of the land. He will signal when you meet and you will then wait for me to join you. Together we will gain the Crown before the Alabastrines can counter my move.’

  ‘Excuse me, Mistress, but I thought you could not move about the Boardland any more.’

  A brief flicker of doubt passed across the Queen’s face. ‘It will not be easy,’ she admitted, ‘and will require a great expenditure of power. But the journey will be made easier if I have a pawn in place to guide me. You have the ability to pass between worlds. It should enable you to move freely between the game squares as the natives do. But that gift will be most valuable in helping me penetrate the last and most obstinate barrier surrounding the Crown, one which I understand even the natives cannot cross. Remember, if you help win me the Crown, I will cure your affliction.’

  ‘Thank you, Mistress,’ Alice said.

  She was not sure how far she could trust the Queen, but at the moment it was the best chance she had. And even if the quest failed she would be down in the Boardland where she might be able find a more conventional remedy.

  ‘Speed of travel is not as essential as secrecy,’ the Queen warned her. ‘The enemy must not learn of your mission. But most important of all, beware the White Queen! She is a dangerous and powerful witch! Now there is the path down to the Boardland,’ she said, pointing to what was hardly more than a narrow furrow that zigzagged down the hillside. ‘Go, knowing my hand and eye will always be upon you!’

  And for a queen you’re pretty witchy yourself, Alice thought as she began to make her way carefully down the hill. That was not a blessing but a warning. But how had she come by the power to use sympathetic magic on the voodoo doll principle? Perhaps it was the myth and fairytale influence on Underland. Queens in those stories often started dabbling in magic. As the regimented order of the chess game faded perhaps another more flexible force took its place. And queens always were the most powerful pieces on the board.

  Alice was near the bottom of the hill when something that had been niggling at her subconscious mind finally surfaced.

  The chessboard in the Queen’s tent. She had seen it in passing several times last night and that morning, and there had been something odd about it. Now she knew what it was, but it made nonsense out of the game. There were no kings left in play.

  Three

  AS THE SLOPE at the bottom of the hill flattened into level ground, Alice came upon the first edge barrier. It was a shimmering wall that rose up out of the centre line of a small moat or ditch to reach high up into the sky. The perspective was eye-watering as it marched away in a perfectly straight line in both directions seemingly to infinity. The wall was about as translucent as frosted glass, so it was impossible to see what lay beyond.

  Alice climbed down into the ditch, which was barely waist deep, and touched the barrier. She felt nothing more sinister than a slight tingle. Taking a deep breath she stepped through and climbed up the bank on the far side.

  Before her was a belt of scrub and low trees. Apart from a few twittering birds nothing moved. Pushing cautiously forward, Alice found the belt was not wide and petered out into a half-overgrown path that ran the length of a field which was freshly ploughed almost to its edge.

  Beyond this several other fields and orchards were visible, separated by fences or bushy hedgerows and interrupted by the occasional tall oak or ash. On her right a narrow lane wound its way towards a straggling line of red-tiled rooftops that peeked over the distant trees, suggesting the presence of a hamlet or small village. Taken in all it was quite similar to the landscape she had encountered during her first adventure, being a slice of gently rolling English countryside that hardly existed in the real world any more. Well, Underland was largely a distorted reflection of nineteenth-century rural life, Alice recalled, so that was not surprising.

  A voice calling out ‘Get along, there,’ caused her to shrink back into the shelter of the nearest bush. Slowly coming into view along the edge of the unturned earth was a ploughman urging his team on.

  As he got closer Alice saw he was a bulky figure, quite short but with broad shoulders. Long bristling ears pricked up on either side of his flat cap, while from below it protruded a blunt snout. Evidently he was a hog or boar. He walked upright and his feet were porcine trotters but, as with most of the animals she had met during her previous adventure, his hands were human. His only clothing was a sleeveless jerkin.

  As he grasped the handles of the old-fashioned single furrow plough, he also held a long carriage whip. As she watched he lifted it to flick across the bare bent backs of his ploughing team. The sight of them in Alice’s world would have raised disbelieving cries of shock and outrage, but in Underland it was quite unremarkable.

  They were eight naked young women, harnessed in pairs on either side of a long shaft running from the plough head. They wore what looked like small versions of padded horse collars about their necks and larger ones tight about their waists so they rested on their hips. It was to these that their arms, crooked round into the small of their backs, were cuffed. Pairs of chain traces ran either side of their bodies through rings in both sets of collars, presumably so as to spread the load between shoulders and hips. The traces were linked to poles pinned transversely across the central shaft. The ploughman’s whip was presumably sufficient to control them as they wore no bits or reins, but each girl did have a wire mesh muzzle strapped across her nose and mouth.

  Alice watched as, with their strong thighs swelling with effort and their sweat-sheened pendant breasts swaying, they drew the plough blade through the soil. It was hot work but she did not feel sorry for them. Satisfying hard labour under the command of a firm but fair master or mistress, the company of their sister slaves, the raw excitement of uninhibited sex and the absence of those petty concerns and foolish aspirations that seemed to fill more and more of life back home, had a strange allure. Was that what had drawn them to Underland and the life of girling slaves? Was that why she was here? But where was her place in it all? In the service of the Red Queen? Thoughts of her masterful power made her feel weak at the knees.

  Alice shook her head to clear her mind. All that must wait. She must concentrate on her mission.

  As the plough girls passed on she considered the landscape before her. How best was she to traverse it to reach her goal?

  If she tried to remain unseen all the time she was travelling her journey might take weeks. And if she were spotted despite her best efforts, such suspicious behaviour would be bound to attract attention. She could travel more quickly if she proceeded boldly in plain sight and made no attempt at concealment. Well, she certainly had nothing to hide, she thought with an inward giggle. Alice Brown – The Naked Spy! Hopefully she would simply be taken for a girling doing a chore for her mistress, which was more or less the truth.

  The plough girls were evidence that girlings were used here as beasts of burden in a similar way to the rest of Underland. If she could pass herself off as one of them then nobody would take any notice of her. But if she was supposed to be doing a chore or running an errand, what was it? She didn’t want to k
eep having to explain herself to people. What she needed was a prop, something that would make her purpose self-explanatory.

  Wary of the ploughing team, she began searching along the field edge, hoping for inspiration. After ten minutes all she found were a couple of discarded lengths of heavy string of the sort that might be used to tie straw into bales. At first she could think of no use for them, then inspiration struck.

  Retreating into the cover of the trees she began breaking off lengths of some of the drier brushwood. By the time the ploughing team had passed by twice more, she had accumulated a pile of long slender sticks. These she made up into as neat a bundle as she could manage and secured it with one of the pieces of twine. The second length she tied to the ends of the bundle, leaving enough slack to slip it over her head and one shoulder so that the cord ran diagonally across her front between her breasts. It helped steady the bundle, but it was still awkward to carry. She pushed a thicker stick through the base of the bundle so its ends projected from each side. With the bundle on her back she could reach back and grasp the improvised handles, keeping it from slipping and spreading the load a little. She found she had to bend forward to keep her balance, which was useful as it gave her a reason to lower her head and avoid eye contact. The bundle was not comfortable to carry, but then it would be inappropriate if she looked as though she was enjoying herself.

  Alice moved back through the bushes towards the field to check on the ploughing team. She wanted to be sure they were well out of the way while she made for the lane. She did not want anybody to see her emerge from the trees so close to the border in case they wondered where she had sprung from.

  The team was just plodding into view. As they came level with her the boar ploughman called out: ‘Whoa … rest.’ The girlings immediately sank to their knees and straightened and wriggled their backs with sighs of relief.