Chương 11: The Best Move on the Board

Thirty-two-year-old Elias Thorne sat across a chessboard from his father, waiting with bated breath for the old man to make his move. The squares were black and white, and his father was gray and harried. It was a Sunday morning ritual they shared together since his mother died. Something that had become a type of holy rite. His father would have a glass of sherry and Elias would have a coffee along with a devastating defeat.

"You put yourself in a dangerous position," the old man said, raising a bushy eyebrow and gesturing towards the board.

"Sometimes you have to take a risk," Elias replied, moving his rook forward in something of a daring gambit.

"You know … risk it for the biscuit the kids say." The old man smirked.

"The graveyards are full of brave men, son. I knew a lot of them."

"Scared money can't win. And a scared man can't either," Elias replied.

"I can't remember where I read that."

"Please don't butcher Cormac McCarthy."

"Anyway, quit stalling and make your move, Pops."

"Allow me to demonstrate," the old man chuckled. Elias felt himself redden a bit as his father snapped up one of his pawns. It was a vulnerability Elias should have noticed, were he not so distracted by the subtext of this conversation. Outside, the rain was pressing itself against the windows. A wintry day.

"You know. Pops … this whole thing with the Congo. I did what I felt I had to do. For science. It was you who taught me that," Elias said. The old man rubbed his white stubble a bit, as if considering his next move.

"I didn't teach you to be reckless, Son. You learned that somewhere else. I don't know where."

"I think about all of those Polynesian islands that dot the Pacific. Don't you think about that, Pops? How they were empty until someone brave set off on a canoe. No maps, no GPS. Just big balls and an even bigger dream of what they might find. How it might expand the world they found themselves in."

"Delusions of grandeur. You've always had a bit of that in you, my boy. I wouldn't fault you for it. Perhaps you get it from your mother. But foolhardiness is another story. She was never a fool." Elias frowned as he made his move.

"How was I supposed to know a guerrilla war would break out? It is usually a very peaceful country. And anyway, here I am now. Sound as a pound."

"But you didn't get what you were looking for, did you?" said the old man. His black pieces were steadily advancing forward, routing Elias' white pieces and thwarting any attempts the young man made at trapping his father. When Elias didn't answer, the old man looked up at him, a warm chiding in his eyes.

"Imagine what would have happened if I'd lost you," he said, an uncharacteristic waver to his voice.

"Well, you didn't. I'm here, Pops. And I don't recall your own youth being spent cowering in fear, either." The old man's bright blue eyes blinked behind his glasses, which had caught a faint flicker from the fireplace. He sighed, scratched at his white stubble, and then moved his queen forward.

"Checkmate," he said. Elias felt his shoulders slump, and he spent a moment sipping his coffee and studying the board. He was convinced that if he could just internalize his mistakes, one of these days he might defeat his father. It hadn't happened yet, and it didn't seem like he was gaining a whole lot of ground, either. Not in chess. Not in life philosophy.

"What have we talked about, Elias? What is the thing we always say at the end of our games?"

"I know, Pops."

"But I want you to say it. Saying a thing can help you to remember it." Elias shook his head. But he already knew he would. It was part of the ritual. Part of the Sunday morning rites, just as much as the glass of sherry.

"All you have to do to win is to always make the best move on the board," Elias said, as his father rose and patted him on the shoulder.

"That's all you have to do. And I trust that you always will."

"Lost you there for a moment," Fiona said, interrupting Elias in his vivid flashback.

"Sorry I was just … what do you reckon this is?" Fiona and Elias stared up at the giant, moss covered chess pieces where they rose up out of the jungle. Something about them, and the memories they stirred, had Elias feeling disoriented.

"I don't really know. But I'll tell you one thing, sure. I don't want to meet the fellas that play with those pieces."

"Maybe it is just, you know, decorative," Elias mumbled. She didn't seem convinced, but moved past the strange stones as she made her way towards what looked like a larger clearing ahead.

"Wait a second," he called after her. She stopped and gave him an exasperated glance before sitting down on a stump and facing him.

"Time for another daydream?" she asked. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"No … just, give me a moment." Elias studied the chess pieces for a moment, which wasn't that easy, them being giant and all, and him not having the usual bird's eye overview. But still, something struck out at him. White was just one move away from putting black into checkmate. The more he stared, the more obvious it became.

"Help me push," he said, leaning into the white bishop that would seal the black king's fate. It was heavy. So heavy that it initially seemed like a lost cause. But both of them pushing dislodged the piece. Finally, it slid into place.

"Checkmate," Elias said, feeling a bit smug about it. As if in reply, one of the chess squares near his feet popped open.

"What did you do?" Fiona moaned. But nothing horrid leapt out from the door. Elias crept over to it, being very cautious.

"It is a chest," he said. Inside, they found a ring. At first, Elias grew excited. But after he inspected the ring a bit … # Ring of Moderate Armor - Improves the wearer's armor (2%). #"Two percent!" he said, feeling a bit disappointed. Not that he'd been expecting the One Ring or anything, but something a bit less negligible would have been nice. But he saw an opportunity to use it in his favor.

"I tell you what. Since you are the warrior, the tank, the front line so to speak, why don't you take the ring? Juice up your armor." He might have expected her to light up with joy and gratitude. But that was not the look on Fiona's face as she regarded his outstretched gift. What was it? What was that expression on her face? He couldn't be sure. But in the end she took the ring and slid it on her finger, turning back towards the jungle without so much as a thank you.

With one last glance at the lichen-spotted bishop, Elias followed. They came across a toppled wall. Then, the stone outline of long razed buildings rising up off of the jungle floor. Elias gawked up at the top of a ruined tower now overhung with vines hellbent on pulling it down.

"I guess this is it," Elias said, listening for any other presence in these ruins. Fiona finally seemed impressed by something. She took in the tumbled stones with an appreciative glint in her eyes.

"It looks like …" But she didn't need to finish. Elias realized it at the same time she did. These ruins were once a town. And the town had roughly the same layout as the one they'd just come from. There was the shape of a wrecked inn, along with the remnants of the iron hoops used to make casks. There were broken paths leading to a central hub where grew one of the largest trees Elias had ever seen. Larger still than all of the monster growths he had already stumbled upon in this jungle full of them.

"It is almost an exact copy, isn't it?" he whispered.

"But I don't see any wolves," she said.

"Well … let's knock out this granary quest. Then maybe we can see if there is like … a cave or something nearby."

"Right. Granary should be …" She pointed, but she didn't have to. Rising up out of the vines was what could only be a very large ruined granary. It was stone, and slightly less wrecked than the other buildings here. It was so overgrown with vines that it occurred to Elias that these fibrous tendrils were likely the only thing holding the place together at all. The vines had become an architectural feature, rather than a flaw.

When they reached it, they saw that there were a set of steps leading down into a dug out storage area, and parts of this area were still covered by the stone roof. Whatever lay below was likely well preserved, protected from the rain and the sun. But not from any intrepid creatures. There were signs that something large had been here sniffing around the granary. Both of them stopped at the darkened threshold that led down the stone stairs, and looked at one another. Slowly, Fiona drew the long sword from her back.

But still, she didn't go down. Instead, she stood there hefting the sharp thing, as if she were unfamiliar with its weight and balance. Elias thought it was a shame he didn't have any more of those faintglow spores in his inventory. That illumination paste he'd made from grinding them in the mortar had proved invaluable in the basement of the healer's guild. Here they would simply have to face the darkness.

"I don't suppose you have any spells to light the place up?" Fiona asked.

"Afraid not," he said.

"And would you happen to have any sort of torch or lantern on you?"

"No." She continued to stand there. Her feet rocked now as if she had to pee.

"Are you going first? Or do I have to?" Elias asked. She shook her head.

"I think you should." Brave mercenary. Hired hand of adventure. Sword wielding warrior. But someone had to be the first, and Elias wasn't about to stand here passing the time waiting for her to find her nerve. Elias gently moved her aside and took the first steps down. Unlike the basement back at the healer's guild, the smell here was much more alive. There was something organic, as the smell of the forest floor. At least, until he caught a whiff of sulfur here and there.

He listened for some scavenging beast scuttling about the stone pavers. But hearing none, he braved another step.

"Coming?" He asked over his shoulder. Sufficiently shamed, the warrior tagged a few feet behind him. At the bottom of the steps, the place opened up. He could tell that simply by the echo of his footfalls sounding against the far wall at some great distance. He could see nothing.

"We didn't think this out very well, did we?" he asked. But she was silent behind him. He got the sense that she was holding her weapon up, waiting for some attack to spring out of the darkness. Elias took a right, or at least what he felt to be a right. It was a comfort when his outstretched hand came in contact with the smoothness of the wall.

"Still with me?" he whispered over his shoulder.

"Yup!" she nearly shouted. It was almost as if she were trying to reassure herself. Together they followed the wall for a minute or two. Slowly, at first, but then with increasing confidence. He touched something that felt soft and smelled like a lit match. When he realized it was some kind of fungal growth, his interest was piqued.

"Hold up a second," he whispered.

"What is it?" # You have identified Charge Lichen #"Fascinating," he said, pocketing a few handfuls of the stuff before they moved on, inching further around the circumference of the room.

"There is no time for vine sniffing," she whispered, her voice faintly trembling. Finally, in one corner, Elias' foot found something with a bit of give under it. Bags of grain, or so he assured himself.

"How many of these can you carry?" he asked.

"I won't be able to fight with even one of those in my arms," she said, bending down to try and heft one.

"Maybe you could just pretend we have a big audience and, you know, act a little bit more warrior like?" He could almost hear the cogs in her mind turning as she searched for a pithy response to that.

"Fine," she finally said. He heard the sound of her sword returning to its scabbard.

"But if we encounter a rabid kobold, and I'm encumbered, it is your funeral." Together, they managed to draw two sacks each into the green sunlight outside of the granary. There, they collapsed, the both of them breathing heavy and sweaty with exertion.

"Druids don't have any spells to move boulders? Or make sunlight? Or anything like that? What exactly can you do?" she complained.

"I guess I'll find out once I gain a few more levels." She huffed a bit, before standing up and brushing off some dirt from her thighs. At least, Elias had assumed it was dirt. She stopped halfway and a look of disgust flashed over her elven features.

"What is this stuff?" Elias saw it too. It was all over the canvas of the bags. Now it was on the both of them too. In fact, it burned a bit where it was touching his skin. Some kind of green fungus. Or even a slime. # You have made progress in a quest: (Rec level??) Save the town of New Cinderleaf from the darkness that is threatening it. # Elias wasn't quite sure what to make of that message. What could these bags of old barely and the fungus covering them possibly have to do with saving the town?

Judging from the look on Fiona's face, she had received the same message and found it equally bewildering. Just as he was about to open his mouth and ask her about it, a few of the leaves a dozen feet to the west of them began to stir. Out stepped three giant wolves.

"Shit, shit, shit," Fiona said, drawing her sword.