The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 31: A Talk Due to Chess

WALID

Walid scratched his head and stroked the fingers of both of his hands through his hair.

'Give me the perseverance of Nuh, Lord.' He murmured.

He felt as if he was in front of a road that split towards two directions. He had one destination, and knew not which road led to where. One mistake, all could go wrong.

'Why must you show potential like this, Salman?' he asked himself. 'You have put me in a difficult position.'

He sighed and wiped a drop of sweat off his brow.

'I need a clear head.' He decided.

He grabbed the glass in front of him, forcing his hand to stop shaking, though he barely managed to succeed in that. He brought the brim to his lips and finished the entire thing in three breaths, as per the sunnah. He let out a deep breath. The water had somewhat managed to calm him down.

'Ya Allah, I am in a tough place. There are two things that I can do, and I feel as if I am making a bad choice. If that is the case ... let the consequences happen painfully.'

Just then, the doors opened.

'Assalamualaikum, Walid sayed.' Came the voice of Salman.

SALMAN

'You have called me?' he asked. 'One of the captains told me so.'

'They were correct,' the commander replied, adjusting himself in his seat. 'Please sit down.'

Salman nodded and did as he was told. Walid did not speak for a while, and rather just looked at Salman, perhaps trying to find the right words to say.

'Do you remember the chess game?'

It was certainly not the conversation starter that Salman expected. It made him recoil a bit, but he gained his composure.

'I beg your pardon?'

Despite him saying that, he knew exactly what the general was speaking of.

'What's the situation?' Salman asked.

Walid's head slowly turned towards Salman and he looked at him curiously before answering.

'I feel as if I am losing.' He answered honestly.

Salman observed the chessboard and the battlefield. He was reminded of the time he played chess with his father. It was a fun experience. Ever since then, the two played the game every day, until Salman started to continuously defeat his father, that is.

'You could move the pawn here.' Salman suggested.

'But wouldn't he get to my other pawn, then?' Walid asked.

'Trust me.'

Walid shrugged, meaning he really didn't have any other options. He moved his pawn forward and the other man took out the other pawn.

'Now, you can use that pawn to capture the knight.'

Walid moved the same pawn to take out the horse. The other man used one of his rooks to kill another pawn. Walid looked worried.

'Do not be. You are close to victory,' Salman encouraged. 'Move your knight towards here.'

Walid did so. Check. The other man touched his king to move it somewhere else. He faltered. His eyes moved around the board for a safe spot. His eyes widened. Walid noticed the astonishment and checked the board as well. The realization dawned on him. He had checkmated his opponent.

'Shah maat,' Salman said. 'The king is helpless.'

'In just three moves.' The soldier said, his jaw slackened.

'This is ... impressive,' Walid said, stroking his beard. 'The battle was lost and chaotic. How did you manage to find victory?'

'"In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity".' Salman said, quoting The Art of War.

'You are quite good in the game,' Walid commented. 'Usually, that is all that I have to say. You are good at chess, nothing more. But see here, you may have remembered my reluctance to say something. It is a bit of an obscure thing to remember, but I am sure you have the memory for it.'

'I'll be honest, I am surprised; in a good way. Well, it seems that there is more to war than battle after all.'

Walid's smile faded away as if he had an idea.

'This ... nevermind.' Walid quickly said, brushing away his thoughts.

'What is it?' Salman asked.

'It's nothing. Just some foolish thought.'

Salman wondered if the commander was lying. Most likely. But as of now, Salman didn't want to know what thoughts were contained inside his mind.

The memory was unnecessarily vivid. But the hesitance in Walid's voice was unmistakingly strange.

'Is this ... about that?' Salman asked sheepishly.

'As much as I do not want to admit it, that is the case. I have been ... pondering upon a difficult matter. It has caused me some distress as of lately.'

Salman was concerned suddenly of what that matter was. Considering that Walid had called him, the matter was most definitely related to him.

'Am I in some sort of trouble?' he asked. He felt that the question was needless, but he had to make sure in some way.

'Not at all, not at all,' Walid said, waving a hand. 'It is another thing, quite important for the future of you and the rest of your brothers in arms. I just need your thoughts.'

'Er - well, I suppose I would very much like to hear what you have in mind.'

'Thank you, Salman.'

His hand trembled a bit. Nearly five months of knowing Walid; not too much all things considered, but the knowledge he had of him was just enough to know that if the commander wasn't in his usual habit of shouting and ordering authority, then the matter was indeed significant.

'See it as a promotion of sorts.' Walid elaborated.

'Pardon?'

'I want you to become one of our strategists.'

Salman's eyes widened. Was he hearing this correctly?

'A strategist?' he repeated. 'You mean those who lay out battle plans?'

'You are correct.'

'B-but I have only proved my abilities through a chess game. You are making a gamble.'

Salman immediately regretted saying such. The opportunity was being presented to him, one that will prove his worth. He was not able to achieve worthiness through swords, so strategy was the next best thing. He remembered The Art of War and that it had taught him much about how one should fight a battle and win wars.

'I will not immediately put you in a high position. You will be going in training and will need experience. But for now, all you need to do is either accept or decline this offer. Which are you choosing?'

For a split second, Salman saw some sort of desperation in Walid's eyes, but it was quickly clouded by his usual serious look. The choice had been given to him as casually as one gave a fruit. Salman was about to blurt out his answer: no. But he stopped himself.

'You will die, Salman,' the voice in his head said. 'The higher you go, the more likely you are to fall.'

Was that true? Was he really risking his life for some sort of approval?

'Salman,' he began, his voice gentle this time. 'In war, there is no proving. These stories that you hear of glory? They are nothing but tales. War is the worst thing man has created. There are no winners in it. There are only those who suffer and those who die. There is a mighty chance that you will die. That is why I am saying that you shouldn't die searching for something as simple as the approval of your father. Die for two beings only: Allah, and yourself. If you were to die for yourself, then you will die with peace. You would have been searching for something you wanted instead of what others did. I see that there is an honor in dying while doing something for yourself.'

Akbar's voice rang in his head like bells. That was suitable to say as they sounded like warnings, as if they were trying to say that he should not accept Walid's offer. 'Do not go, do not go, do not go, do not go...'

Then where would the proof of worthiness go?

'I would love to do it.' Salman replied.

A great burden seemed to have been pulled away from Walid's shoulders, and Salman could have sworn he heard him say 'thank Allah'.

'Good to know,' he said. 'You are excused.'

Salman nodded. As he stood up, he began to realize how grand of a decision he really made. He started out as a new recruit and was now a battle planner. The thought made him smile. Surely, Abdullah would be proud of him. It was unfortunate how he couldn't write to him at the moment.

WALID

The happiness in Salman didn't go unnoticed by him. Why was he so happy? Sure, he wished to impress his father in a way, but why so enthusiastic? Did he realize that the fate of so many men could be under his hand? This was a reaction opposite of Hamza's who was hesitant.

In the end, it was he who had made the decision to promote the two. If anything, he was the one responsible if anything bad were to happen. Perhaps this was a test from God. Perhaps He wanted Walid to do these things.

'You move in strange ways,' he said. 'Is my decision a good one? Will we all die?'

Besides silence, there was no reply.

'I suppose that it is better to see than to tell.'