Chapter 4:
“What a waste of time Anlok.” I say while crossing my arms.
“You’ll see. All good things come in time, and just think about it like you’re stepping on me or Eva,” he says while obnoxiously winking at me.
“They better lose in no time flat if that’s going to happen...” I mutter under my breathe.
A large cathedral located near a train station takes shape through the mist. Large columns of chiseled marble hold the masterpiece of gothic architecture up in the sky. It pierces the mist with glimmers of multicolored light from its windows and a group of people are gathering around the entrance. They wait on a large stone staircase with small railings on the side.
We walk past houses lacking any flare when the brilliant torchlight church stands nearby. A plaza made of shabby bricks sounds out smacking noises with each step we take, and I can hear the bell start to ring. I close my eyes and stop as the deep bellow of the metal bell sounds the beginning of another day under god’s great light. The mist slightly dampens my nose as I inhale deeply, and I trot quickly to catch back up with Anlok.
“So why aren’t you participating then Anlok if it’s such a valuable way to spend my time?” I say while slightly lowering my eyelids and hunching.
“Well some of us will actually win matches. I can cheer really loud, so I’ll stick to that!” he says while jumping lightly like an idiot.
“You are so amped over nothing, and you wake me up early for what? Just to beat a bunch of children at a game. I could be working right now...” I say while scowling and crossing my arms.
“Who knows? Maybe this situation will work for you?” Anlok says while holding his hands in front of himself and shaking them.
“Well...I guess It isn’t that bad. Just please don’t look this stupid standing next to me,” I say.
He nods and the clopping of our footsteps stop. The large group we just became apart of slowly mills around until a buckling noise is heard. The large wooden doors with beautiful engravings of birds open at the same time.
A man in the black dressings of a priest walks past the red rug inside of the church and onto the front steps. The crowd’s murmur softens silently as the middle aged man raises his hands. The man pauses and lowers his hands before saying, “I can see we have a large congregation today! I hope you all can bathe in god’s heavenly light today with me. Tithes can be donated at any time during the tournament over there,” he points towards a gold plate, “Please allow me to invite you in for a wonderful time today.”
He bows slightly and adjusts himself to allow the crowd to enter. The silent crowd breaks into conversation as we are slowly shuffled through the doors. A variety of different tables and accommodations for the tournament await us in the church. Glass sparkles and dances from a well lit chandelier in the opening room. I gawk at the architecture, and the chandelier hangs in the large opening room before the main hall.
I feel a slight push as Anlok says, “Getting cold feet are we? You’ll do great I’m sure Lenic.”
The genuine wink and smile he sends me sends shivers of disgust down my spine. I rub my eyes as I say, “You...You're insufferable Anlok.”
He smiles ever brighter at my reply and I sulk into the room. The priest stands at the altar above all the other tables and says, “We will break you into groups in 5 minutes. Please feel free to talk and converse till then.”
He walks to the edge of the altar and begins talking to another person about holding the event. After a short pause, he goes into a storage room for the church and brings out a set of small wooden boxes. He begins placing them on the table when Anlok says, “What a coincidence this is! My dad is here as well!”
I instantly see through his deception and smack my forehead. I close my head and hold my head up with my hand as I respond with, “It really seems like you think you're clever...”
I tilt my head up to see him frozen in place with his eyebrows raised. It’s like he thinks his plan is so full proof...I start to chuckle at his dejected face.
“Well I guessss I can go with it. What’s the end goal? Show your dad how apt I am through a few games of chess?” I say while my lingering smile starts to fade.
“ugh!” he grunts and shifts his face into a devastated canyon of wrinkles. My mouth bursts into laughter automatically at his countenance.
“Hahah! You better not have any secrets whenever you become ‘head’ of the company my friend. You are a disaster waiting to happen!” I say while grinning and mock punching him.
He shifts to the incredibly annoying maneurism of scratching his head while squinting his eyes. I look around and see the priest is moving back towards the altar to speak.
He stands with a clipboard and a sheet of paper while he reads and calls out, “Oliver Sphink, table one. Jack Harrison table one….”
The priest drones on and on until I hear my name. I approach table number 14. I sit on the wooden chair and cross my arms.
“Thomas Huxley, Table 14,” the priest says.
I look over at Anlok’s dad and let my jaw hang slightly. I shake my head to get a grip and when he approaches I shake his hand. The older man is wearing a fine ivory overcoat as always, and has a light beige shirt underneath. His well maintained mustache curls upwards as he throws me a confident smile.
I see his moose covered hair glisten lightly against the light, and I roll my eyes as I sit down. After about another 5 minutes the priest finishes calling out the names, and an observer for the match shows up.
“Flip heads or tails?” he asks me.
“Heads as always,” I reply.
The brown haired, middle aged man flips the coin and it lands on tails.
“Looks like I’ll go first then,” Thomas says while confidently moving his pawn forward.
The game begins. Anlok walks over and leans over his father’s shoulder to see the match. Like he has always done, Anlok quickly zones out and quits watching the game. He instead swaps from watching me to my father every few minutes, and he somehow sweats profusely despite the chilly morning.
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Anlok attempts to lock us into his pace with his constant shifting and nervous twittering, but Thomas and I resist. After about 5 minutes the first piece is taken. A black knight. Thomas glances at Anlok and smiles. Anlok holds his breath and glances at me.
“You are incredibly distracting Anlok. Just leave. Besides...This game is just beginning,” I say while knocking over one of his bishops.
“hugh!” Anlok grunts at the proclamation and looks at his father again. The lightning between there irises strikes viciously. Anlok’s completely genuine enrapturement with the scenario is so obvious a crowd comes over to see the commotion.
The heat of being a spectacle gets to both me and his father as we take off our jackets. I stare him in the eye as the game truly begins.
An hour winds down and we are the only table still playing. Every single player, referee, relative, and their distant cousins are here...Somehow I can see Anlok sweep the crowd into his pace, and over the hour...Thomas and I as well…
A large bead of sweat falls off of the blond haired man’s face. He twitches ever so softly as he places what has to be the heaviest queen I have ever seen on the board. Me and him give each other a sympathetic look as we both go through the excruciating process. As he finishes placing the piece Anlok inhales sharply.
The entire crowd follows suit, and they all raise their eyebrows as if watching an amazing acrobatic act. I twitch my eye as another salty droplet falls into my eye. I readjust my vision and Thomas has his hand outstretched. Anlok stares it down intently. He leans forward and holds his breath. The poor boy looks like a nervous wreck, and the crowd follows his all consuming will again.
My face flares red for the upteenth time as I reach out and grab the hankercheif. Anlok’s face is so close to our hand’s that it seems like he will almost kiss them. I take the handkerchief away and...Anlok swaps to a gigantic grin. I close my eyes to avoid the crowds reaction, but harpies claw my ears as the crowd all sigh and comment on the gesture.
“What a fine match!”
“Only the finest of gentlemen really.”
“I can tell this will last quite awhile longer...”
“Can you believe the intensity! It’s like we’re watching two knights joust...”
I try to internalize the immense pressure I feel, and fail by opening my eyes. I see a mirror image of myself on the other side of the board. A middle aged man in shambles. Brought to the brink by a 13 year old boy’s sensationalism. The crowd starts to gather even more unbusy street goers looking for some form of entertainment.
People of all walks of life crowd closer and closer as I finish wiping the sweat off of my face. I hand the napkin back quickly before Anlok can further damage my psyche. He smiles hugely as Thomas takes the small piece of clothe, and sighs as if we are the best of friends now. I hear a cascade of sighs cover we two as I lift the bishop.
The sweat from my hand leaks onto the black bishop and drops onto the board. The battle of wits has long since ended, and now all that remains is a battle of wills. I stare down Thomas as I place down the piece. The awful move might have spelled disaster, but Thomas realizes that me and him are both waiting for the other to crack under the crowd’s pressure.
Maybe we have both already cracked under the pressure, but I won’t be the first to shatter. I quickly snap up a piece and place it. With a promptness spurred on by necessity, Thomas answers with another lightning fast move.
Anlok almost falls out of his wooden chair at our sudden movements, and I see the crowd swell to maximum capacity. I pick up a piece and the unthinkable happens. I see a way to lock the battle. I move my knight so he is in check.
“Ah!” Anlok and the crowd say together. At this point I am surrounded by Anlok imitators, and the man already annoys me to no end, but...Thomas has an advantage. I’ve only dealt with Anlok for 8 years. The man in front of me has a full 13 years of experience. He has already stomached more Anlok than any one human should have to bear. I know I’ll melt under the searing heat first...I have to fight for the draw…
“It looks like I’ve...” Thomas says while making the motion of flopping over his king. The crowd heaves itself closer to see the conclusion.
“Won,” he finishes dramatically while placing his king from the flopped position to a position that checks me. The crowd begins murmuring heavily about the claim. They mill it over until Anlok says, “I don’t think so...”
“Somehow the crowd is dumber than you Anlok,” I say while moving my bishop to block the move.
“Oh! My heavens!” a lady says while holding both of her hands to her face. The crowd follows suit and it heavily weighs on us both. I see my own beet red complexion perfectly reflected by his father’s. My face starts to twitch, and I can’t make it stop. As if my own weakness showing finally broke a damn, Thomas starts lean back and forth in his chair.
The sorry sight of us both cracking under the pressure somehow greatly entertained Anlok. I know the idiot thinks we are both just thinking hard. When in reality, I have six people I have never met one foot away from me. The closer audience has sat down to allow a secondary higher row of standing people, and a further row of people standing on chairs behind them surrounds us. I feel the cold mist of the room being replaced with the humidity of human breath.
Thomas looks deep into my eyes. Into my very soul, and we exchange words only people going through war can. We reach an understanding only possible through limitless hardship. I grab my king, and he grabs his. We both knock it over, and look at Anlok. In unison we say, “You win Anlok. It’s a draw.”
The crowd roars. Each and every person starts clapping, and some people cheer. Men take off their hats, and women fan themselves. The final straw holding me together snaps. I look around to see the human furnace surrounding me, and I accept fate. I pass out.