Chessmaster

Chessmaster chapter 1.) The hunt

Foreword

I'm about to take your mind into another world. But I pray that you would also bring your heart, for this is not a mere land of thought, but also spirit. It is a place far from our own world, and yet so very near. A magical place where Dwarves, Iceners, and other fascinating creatures live. Yet in this land of stone castles, and swords of flame and steel, a violent war prolongs, a war of Black and White. And as the ages pass, the battles do not cease. Never ending death reaches onward, leaving the inhabitants desperate for freedom. But what can save a land from itself? For only one side can remain. One truth to tenet a kingdom, but how is a never ending conflict to be finished? None other than by the battles fought and the decision of the Chessmaster...

Chapter 1

Simple would be the best way to describe him, also kind, harmless, and humble, but not altogether brilliant or distinguished. His name was Chester, Chester Enicker, a fine young man from a humble family and a citizen of the respectable town, Hannen.

Today Chester's mind focused on something he thought very important, a small get together with some of the youth he considered friends. They were to meet in a small hut just outside of town, as they always did on Tuesday evenings. The objective was chess. He loved the game and believed himself to be a good player.

Chester rubbed his hands together. Tonight was going to be a good game; he could just feel it. With much excitement, he hastened through the clean, welcoming streets of his beloved town, leading to the outer road. The air was filled with the rich scent of freshly-cut cedar and the sound of merry axes chipping away at the last of that day's work.

The young man took a deep breath as he stopped beneath the gate. It occurred to him that he had not seen his parents since afternoon. Eager as he was to be on his way, he regretted failing to tell them that he was leaving. Of course they knew it was his custom to be gone at this time every week, and he could not recall bidding them good-bye last Tuesday, but still he felt strangely sentimental. He glanced back at the town behind him and smiled. "Farewell," he said at last, as he finally departed.

Down the shady path he walked. The weather was beautiful. The sun, just ready to set, silhouetted everything in a golden orange. Brightly glowing leaves swayed up and down on the branches, their inviting shadows dancing on the road before him.

In the distance to his right, Chester saw the horizon lined with mountains. They appeared white from the thick mist that adorned them, cold and mysterious. Known as the Hiding Hills, no one dared to enter them for fear of being consumed within the lonesome curtains of fog.

On the road's left was the large swamp. Smelling of soggy vegetation steeped in warm water, there was no surprise that none cared to enter it either. For as with the Hills, the swamp whispered secrets of the unknown, thus remaining dark and unwanted. Chester gave it only a glance. One might wonder how such a fine town as Hannen could have such odd surroundings.

After about one mile's walk, Chester arrived at the hut. Happily he entered without a knock. A couple of his friends greeted him with silent nods as he slipped in. Two of the boys were already playing a game of chess.

Chess: the ancient game of war and thought, where two individuals fight in absolute silence. Each piece designed for its moment, from the mighty queen to the weakest pawn; every move full of strategy and vision, two colors and two masters. To the end they duel until one is defeated and the other declares, "Checkmate."

A group of five or so of his friends stood talking in the corner; Chester decided to join.

"Yes," boasted one of them, "I leave this week. Of course I'm a little nervous."