Pawn's Gambit

by Darin Kennedy

“The hotter, the better, as I remember. I’ll let him know.”

  “Thanks, Steven.” Her face took on a mother’s concern. “If you don’t mind my asking, are you doing all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Steven donned a practiced smile. “I’m stuck in the middle of a big project for work. Just taking a break this morning.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Well, good luck. Great seeing you back around these parts. I’m sure Don is glad to see you. Tell him to give me a call whenever he gets home.”

  “Will do.”

  Steven closed the door and returned to the window overlooking the lake. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast. A few minutes later, the sound of the door to the basement shook him from his reverie.

  “Still no word?” Niklaus stretched as he came up the stairs. His tousled hair and rumpled sweats suggested he wasn’t long out of bed.

  “Nope. It’s like he disappeared off the face of the earth.” Steven peered out the window of the kitchen door at his father’s red Blazer, gripping the keys he had retrieved from the porch the previous morning.

  “I’m sure he’s all right.” Niklaus’ thick Polish accent made the lie even more awkward.

  “Yeah, Niklaus, my dad up and skipped town after our visit without keys, car, or even locking the stupid door. I’m sure that’s it.”

  “Sorry. I only—” Niklaus’ apology was cut short by an excited voice from the other end of the house.

  “Steven! She’s awake.”

  All other thought flew from Steven’s mind as he raced down the hallway to the bedroom of his youth. Archie met Steven at the door, the priest’s expression just short of giddy.

  “She’s still out of it, but praise the Lord. She’s awake.” Archie stepped back and allowed Steven into the brightly lit room.

  There, resting against the headboard of his childhood bed and supported by every spare pillow they’d been able to gather, Audrey looked up at him through half-asleep eyes.

  “Hi.” Her voice came out as a harsh whisper.

  “Welcome back.” Despite a day and a half of pent-up questions, Steven could barely put two words together. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” Audrey’s face broke into a wide grin. “You know, we’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

  “I’m sorry about everything, Audrey.” Steven took a step forward, his voice cracking as leaned across the bed. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”

  Audrey raised a feeble hand from the faded blue comforter and hushed him. “It’s all right. Everything’s kind of hazy, but I’ve got a sneaky suspicion you have something to do with the fact I’m still alive and breathing. We’ll talk later, but for now, we’re okay.”

  A weight left Steven’s chest and he breathed freely for the first time since the battle in Atlanta.

  “What happened, anyway?” Audrey searched Steven’s eyes. “Last thing I remember, some kind of wall came out of the ground, and then…” She grew quiet as she absently rubbed at the area above her navel. “I don’t remember much after that.”

  “That would be me.” Niklaus stepped into the room. “The wall, that is.”

  “Wait.” Audrey peered past Steven. “You’re the guy from the roof. How did you—”

  “Not end up splattered all over the courtyard? I owe it all to Steven here and that bag of tricks he carries. Another few seconds, though, and things would have turned out a lot different.” Niklaus’ eyes grew distant, his voice somber. “I guess you never really know if you’re ready to die till death is staring you in the face.”

  “I can relate.” She extended a weak hand. “I’m Audrey, by the way.”

  “Niklaus Zamek, the White Rook, apparently, and I am at your service.” He took her hand and offered a slight bow. “And don’t worry about introductions. I’ve heard all about you, Audrey. Can’t get Steven here to shut up about—”

  Steven cleared his throat. “Thank you, Niklaus.”

  The corner of Audrey’s mouth turned up in a playful smile. “And what exactly did our fearless leader have to say?”

  Prickly heat coursed across Steven’s scalp. “You know, Niklaus, why don’t you go check on Lena and Emilio while I fill Audrey in on the last couple of days?”

  “Of course.” Niklaus stepped out of the room.

  “You too, Archie.” Steven helped the priest to his feet. “You’ve been sitting here all night. You should take a break. Rest your eyes a bit.”

  “I could certainly use a walk to get the blood flowing.” Archie shot Steven a wink. “I’m guessing you’ll keep an eye on Audrey for me?”

  “At least one.” Steven took Archie’s place on the corner of the bed. The priest in turn joined Niklaus in the hallway and closed the door behind them.

  “It’s good to have you back, Audrey,” Steven said after far too long an awkward silence. “Lena’s been your nurse for the last couple of days, and Archie has barely left your side.”

  “What about our new friend from Atlanta?” Audrey asked. “What’s he like?”

  “Niklaus? Don’t worry. He grows on you pretty fast.” Steven searched Audrey’s eyes. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m hurting in places I didn’t even know I had, but considering the last thing I remember was an arrow sticking out of my chest, I think I’ll take it.”

  “I’ve already replayed the whole night in my head about a thousand times.” Steven’s head dropped. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for you—”

  “Stop. I’m fine.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed it tight. “I promise.”

  They sat again in silence, neither sure exactly what to say.

  “So,” Audrey asked, “where are we this time?”

  “Back in Virginia. My old house.” Steven pointed to a collection of dusty high school trophies on top of a battered dresser. “This was my room growing up.”

  “Huh.” Audrey scanned the room, the space filled with mementos of Steven’s childhood. “So, what does your dad think about you bringing home a whole houseful of strangers?”

  “I don’t know.” Steven bit his lip. “He’s not here.”

  “When will he be back? I’d really like to meet him.” Understanding blossomed on Audrey’s face. “Oh. Is he—”

  “Lena can’t raise her aunt on the phone, your mom and grandfather are still MIA, and now Dad’s fallen off the face of the earth.” Steven’s gaze wandered around the room. “It’s not looking too good for the home team.”

  Audrey stared straight ahead, her face devoid of emotion. “I guess this is the part where we drive on and try to tell ourselves everything’s going to be all right.”

  Steven nodded. “I try not to think about it too—” Steven jerked his head around as the bedroom door creaked open.

  “Grey’s back.” Archie poked his head through the half-open doorway. “He wants to know if he’s interrupting anything.”

  “No,” Steven answered. “It’s fine. Tell him to come on in.”

  Archie stood aside as Grey swept into the room dressed in a cobalt blue shirt, charcoal pants and his floor-length gabardine coat. He swept the battered fedora from his head and offered a slight bow. “Audrey, my dear. I am pleased to see you doing so well.”

  “Good to see you too, Grey,” she said. “Though I’m not so sure about well.”

  “It was pretty touch and go for a while,” Archie said, “but you’re well on the road to recovery now. Grey made sure of that.”

  “What do you mean?” Audrey asked.

  Archie grew quiet as Grey’s slate gaze bore a hole through him.

  “Steven,” she asked. “What’s Archie talking about?”

  At Grey’s subtle nod, Steven answered. “We almost lost you, Audrey. The Pawn’s arrow hit some important stuff, and by the time we finished with Zed and the others, you were pretty far gone. Archie somehow managed to keep you alive but by the time we got to you he was way past his limit.”

  Archie nodded his head sadly. “It t
ook everything we had to bring you back, and without the extra push from Grey, I’m not sure even that would have been enough.”

  “Oh.” Audrey’s face blanched. “Good to know, I guess.”

  “Now that all of us are within the Game,” Grey said, “I am free to bring my abilities to bear for the good of the White. I did, in fact, provide a bit of aid at a moment when our Bishop’s energies were at an ebb. The lion’s share of thanks, however, remains with Archie and your friends. His abilities and their sacrifice were truly what saved both you and our Knight’s fine steed.”

  Audrey peered around the room, pausing for a moment at each face that had played a part in saving her life. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “It is our duty to come to the aid of our Queen,” Grey said, “and our privilege. Truth be told, though, your role in the coming struggle has little to do with my gladness at seeing your bright eyes again.” The wizard’s smile was infectious and soon Audrey was laughing between sobs. Even the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Seconds later, an excited voice from the hall galvanized the already festive mood.

  “Audrey! You’re awake.” Lena ran through the open doorway and threw her arms around Audrey’s neck.

  “Ow!” Audrey said. “Not so hard.” Her playful tone softened the edge to her words. “Wounded in action over here.”

  “Sorry,” Lena said, “I’m just so glad to have you back.” She slipped off the bed and slipped her arm around Emilio’s waist as he stepped into the room. “It’s been a two-day testosterone fest around here without you around.”

  “Good to see you, Audrey.” Of them all, Emilio’s response was by far the most reserved, which didn’t surprise Steven in the least. The young man had avoided all of them except Lena since their return to Virginia, and Steven had chosen to give him his space.

  “It’s getting a bit crowded in here,” Grey stepped out into the hallway. “Please allow me to get some air while the rest of you continue your reunion.” He tapped Steven’s shoulder. “A moment?”

  Though Steven felt no desire whatsoever to leave Audrey’s side, he rose to join Grey in the hall, squeezing Audrey’s hand gently before he left. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Audrey held his fingers a moment longer, the heat of her touch infusing Steven with a warmth that was both new and familiar. “Promise?”

  Her playful grin set Steven’s heart racing and in that brief instant, he gained serious insight into how a single face could launch a thousand ships.

  “Promise.”

  Steven walked in silence with Grey by the still water of the lake that abutted his father’s land and stopped amid the tall river birches he and his father planted a quarter century before. Grey picked up a single flat stone, stooped to one side, and flung the stone sidearm. The miniature discus skipped at least seven times before sinking to the muddy lake bottom.

  Steven laughed. “If I remember right, my record’s nine.”

  Grey stretched his hand out across the lake. “See the ripples? How they spread to encompass the lake’s entire surface? The placid water is reality as you understand it. The stone represents the coming correction. Understand this. The earthquakes off your Pacific Coast and the storm we encountered in Atlanta are but the beginning.”

  “It gets worse from here?”

  “The land I consider home is no more, claimed by the forces in question sixteen centuries ago. Like mighty Atlantis or fair Pompeii, the land of my people was destroyed by forces outside our understanding.” Grey gazed across the lake, the loneliness of centuries played out in a moment. “This Game I helped create may keep such events from occurring, but those forces still exist, and the potential for disaster is no different than it was centuries ago.”

  “This correction has already hit both ends of the U.S.” Steven squinted into the sun. “When we first discussed the Game, you said each of the three previous iterations had a certain geographic propensity. This big disaster you keep talking about. It’s coming here, isn’t it?”

  “If this correction is consistent with previous iterations, the energies will indeed focus on a single land mass, in this case your North American continent. Each event stronger and more devastating than the one before, the destruction will crescendo toward an unprecedented release of energy onto this world. There and then, in the throes of this most recent correction’s climax, the Game will be played.”

  “How will we know when it’s time?”

  “You will know, all of you, just as you know when the enemy is near or how to utilize the weapons of your various stations despite never having seen them before. The knowledge and skills necessary to play the Game are part and parcel of who you are.”

  “Got it.” Steven shoved his hands in his pockets. “Different topic?”

  “Certainly.” Grey wore a knowing look.

  “You’ve been gone since Atlanta, and I suspect you haven’t been idle.”

  “No need for preamble, Steven. What is it you want to know?”

  “Does Zed have my father? Audrey’s family? Lena’s aunt and uncle?”

  Grey let out a plaintive sigh. “All evidence points toward that conclusion, I fear.”

  “Then here’s what I want to know. Has the concept of taking hostages ever come up before?” The fire in Steven’s eyes matched Grey’s. “Is that now ‘part and parcel’ of who we are as well? It’s bad enough all of our lives are at risk, but now he’s got our families and we’re still supposed to line up and play nice.”

  Grey lowered his gaze. “As my brethren and I brought this infernal Game into being, we planned for every eventuality of which we could conceive. Each individual Piece was meant to enter the field of battle as an anonymous cipher and complete the ritual, thus dissipating the energies in question. Survivors were then to return to their normal life as if nothing had happened. The involvement of families, friends, lovers was never even considered.”

  Steven and Grey were silent for a while. The trees swayed to and fro in the gentle breeze as a kingfisher flew in from the east and circled the lake. On its third circuit, the bird dropped from the sky, dove at the water at breakneck speed, and penetrated the water’s still surface with a muted splash. Moments later, it rose from the water with a wriggling fish in its mouth and took to the sky, disappearing back across the trees. Steven shivered despite the summer heat.

  “One last question.” Steven’s expression grew grim. “It’s been on my mind ever since we returned to Roanoke.” His gaze shot to the old house where his father’s pine and walnut chessboard rested on a dusty shelf. “In every game of chess I’ve ever played, not once, win or lose, have I made it to the end without losing a piece or two.”

  Grey kept his silence.

  “This isn’t going to end well is it?” Steven asked. “Even if we win.”

  Grey sat by the still water. “This travesty you find yourself caught up in is what the great Game I conceived has devolved into. Though over the centuries, the ritual has saved the lives of thousands, nay millions, those like you have always borne the brunt of the cost. As it has been for the last sixteen centuries, those you have gathered may well be forced to pay the ultimate price for Zed’s greed and the unfortunate naiveté of my youth.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Wait. Heal. Prepare.” Grey and Steven’s eyes locked in a fiery dance. “Steel yourself, Steven. Zed’s treachery is far from over. It is beyond certain he intends to use your loved ones as cruel leverage against you. You and the others must be prepared for this eventuality. Above all, however, you must maintain your focus on the one true goal—denying Zed his much-coveted victory. You and the others have already faced much in your brief time as part of the struggle, but what lies ahead will make the last week of your lives pale in comparison.” Grey stroked his sparse beard. “The Game is nigh, and while your destiny awaits you, never forget that the Game waits for no one.”

  Author’s Note

  This is not the end.

  It is not even t
he beginning of the end.

  But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

  - Winston Churchill -

  If you’re reading this, you have either come to the end of the opening volume of my little chess story, or you’re one of those compulsive people who, like me, jumps forward to the author’s note just to see what makes a particular writer tick. To those of you who have already dropped some hard-earned cash and are the proud owner of this, the first novel I ever wrote, please accept my wholehearted thanks and know I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Before we proceed, please note that I do discuss events from the story in the paragraphs that follow, so if you haven’t finished the book yet, you may want to wait and read this part later.

  This world that Steven Bauer and his friends inhabit has been kicking around in my head honestly for most of my life, but only in the last few years have I had the right combination of time, opportunity, and life experience to put it to paper. When I finished the first draft of Pawn’s Gambit, lo these many years ago, I was two months from the end of my time as a United States Army family physician. In late 2002, however, a much younger “Captain Darin Kennedy” was gearing up to head to Kuwait in support of what would become Operation Iraqi Freedom. In February of 2003, I deployed with the 101st Airborne Division to Kuwait and early on the morning of March 20th, we crossed the berm into Iraq. My unit was a medical support company, responsible for the medical care of the hundreds of soldiers that made up the 1st Brigade Combat Team. Just behind the ever moving front line, we charged north through endless desert and raging sandstorms, and after two months of living like well-armored vagabonds, settled in an old Iraqi Air Force base about twenty minutes west of a small town called Quyarrah. It was there, living in an old MiG hangar amidst a decade of desiccated bird refuse and dust with no shower, no running water, and eating the same old “bagged lunch” (MRE) every day, that I borrowed our dentist’s Panasonic Toughbook and began to chronicle the strange adventures of Steven Bauer. Both the story and the writer have come a long way since then, but if you get a hint of some underlying desolation while reading the first few chapters, I hope that explains it.