| General Fiction posted July 13, 2025 | Chapters: |
...5 6 -7- 8... 
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A Game of Chess
A chapter in the book Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate
Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate: 7
by tfawcus
| Background Dmitri is slowly recovering from catatonia after losing his twin sister, Mira, in a bombing. After transfer to a clinic beyond the warzone, he was moved into Elena's care for rehabilitation. |
That evening, there was a knock at Dmitri's door. A cheerful voice called out, 'Are you decent? May I come in?'
Without waiting for an answer, Leila bounced the door open with her hip and entered carrying a tray. 'Supper for your lordship.' She plonked it down on the table by the window. 'You'd better get up if you want it. I'm not your nursemaid.'
'I didn't suppose you were,' he retorted with a scowl. He was nettled by her abrasive entry and didn't say anything else. What cheek, just bursting into my room like that.
Dmitri was still suffering the after-effects of his ill-considered excursion to the lake, and he was reading Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol, a book that only served to accentuate his depressive mood. He put it face down on the bedside table and went across to join her. Undeterred by his sullenness, she sat watching him as he ate. He studiously avoided her gaze and remained silent, wishing she would leave, but disconcertingly, at a deeper level, hoping she would not.
'What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Aren't you even going to thank me?'
He mumbled something that could have been a word of thanks or an ancient curse. She shrugged and was about to pick up the empty tray and leave him to stew when she spotted a chess set on the top shelf of the bookcase.
In one final attempt to jolly him along, she asked, 'Do you play chess?' It was worth a shot. After all, Elena had suggested she should try to cheer him up, and she wasn't one to shy away from a challenge.
The question caught Dmitri off balance. He hadn't played since the war took his father away; the dear father who had so patiently taught him the finer points of the game. He looked at Leila, and his eyes glistened with fire.
Before he gathered his thoughts together enough to reply, she said, 'I'll take that as a "yes". You don't have to say anything, you rude bastard, unless by some fluke you put me in check, but I don't think that's very likely.' She added insult to injury by tousling his hair and adding, 'Come on! Lighten up!'
Almost without pause, she opened the board, placed it on the table between them, and arranged the pieces. 'Black or white?'
A half-smile played around Dmitri's lips. 'Your choice,' he said quietly. I'll show you, you little gypsy...
She turned the board around, so the white pieces were in front of him. 'You can have the advantage. Maybe the game will last a little longer that way.'
He opened with the King's Gambit, expecting an easy win. She treated it with contempt and set up a stinging counteroffensive. Realising he had a game on his hands, he stroked his chin with the forefinger of his right hand and leant forward a few inches. She put her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers, looked around them impishly, and awaited his response. Her eagerness left him feeling disconcerted, and he had to stretch back in his mind to remember his father's lessons. Her moves were swift and incisive, and this unsettled him as he liked to take his time, carefully considering his options.
He wished he had some way of slowing the game without appearing to dither. His father used to fumble in his pocket for his briar pipe and fill it with tobacco from a leather pouch, then tamp it down with a small, blunt-ended tool made of curiously carved whalebone, before lighting it, and with much contemplative sucking, coax the glowing embers into life and blow a lopsided smoke ring. He would then lean forward and make his move, looking for all the world like a saint whose halo had slipped. The whole manoeuvre took several minutes and had the effect of disconcerting even the most level-headed of opponents.
Dmitri could conjure up no such delaying tactic. Not only that, but he was keenly aware of and mightily discomforted by the amused look in Leila's twinkling eyes. Twenty minutes into the game, he made a foolish mistake, leaving his queen exposed. He realised what he'd done too late. His hand had already left the piece.
She didn't gloat. She simply stretched forward and took it. There was no way out of the dilemma. He knocked his king over, conceding defeat, and offered her his hand. She touched it, saying, 'Thanks. We must play again sometime, so you can get your revenge.'
With that, she got up abruptly, swept the pieces back into their box, picked up the supper tray, and left.
He could have kicked himself, throwing his queen away like that. If he'd been playing Mira, she'd have leapt to her feet, cock-a-hoop, and chortled gleefully. She wouldn't have let him forget it for months.
***
The following morning, there was no sign of Elena or Leila. Left to his own devices, Dmitri picked up his sketchbook and started to draw. He drew a chessboard with all the pieces as they had been before his careless slip.
He drew Leila lifting his queen from the board, and on the face of the queen, he drew Mira's delicate features. He depicted Leila as a harpy, green-eyed and raven-haired, with talons instead of hands. Strewn beneath the table at her feet lay the other pieces she had taken, the pawns, a knight and a castle. They lay carelessly in death. Behind the board, where the window onto the lake should have been, he drew ruins, pieces of rubble flying through the air, and shaded in an orange glow like the fires of hell with sulphurous fumes rising from it.
When he'd finished, he slammed the sketchbook shut and went outside for some fresh air. He had no idea what to make of this irritating girl, but despite everything, he couldn't help liking her. He wished he hadn't been so damned ungracious. Maybe next time he could make amends.
The opportunity came sooner than he expected.
***
A few days later, he was taking his daily exercise, walking the upper path behind the lodge, past the vegetable beds and towards the orchard. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, dappling the path with light and shadow. He walked slowly, letting the rhythm of his footfall settle his mind.
Although it was only a short walk, it left a dull ache in his legs and a flutter in his chest. He paused at the edge of the orchard, and reaching up, he grasped a branch and attempted some pull-ups. He was barely able to lift his own weight, so he dropped to the ground, and with an exotic flourish, lunged into a series of Tai Chi exercises that Elena had given him. With knees bent and arms outstretched, he flowed with the grace of a ballet dancer from one position to the next, all the time imagining himself to be an ancient Chinese warrior. Swinging around in a grand final gesture, he found himself face-to-face with Leila.
She was wearing a coarse linen dress and had a red bandana knotted loosely at the neck. She had been picking plums. Her face glistened in the sunlight, and she stood with the easy grace of a gypsy girl, a wicker basket of dusky blue fruit at her hip. One slender hand curled beneath the basket, balancing its weight as if it were nothing.
Dmitri stared like a stunned mullet and blurted out, 'Oh! It's you.'
'Yes, me again.' Her full, red lips creased into a smile no less alluring than the twinkle in her eye. 'That was great! I think I shall call you Dmitri the Dancer! It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?'
He continued to stare, momentarily at a loss for words. 'Dancing? No, no, those were Tai Chi exercises to get my strength back.' The colour crept up his neck, and his face was on fire.
'Really? I'd never have guessed.' She reached into the basket and tossed him a plum. 'A reward from the Sugar Plum Fairy!'
She twirled around as if to emphasise her little joke and lost her balance. He rushed forward, putting his arms out to save her as she lurched towards him, scattering plums all over the ground.
'Whoops! I didn't mean to...'
'Don't worry. No harm done.'
Now it was Leila's turn to be embarrassed. She slipped the basket from her shoulder and dropped to her knees, scrambling to retrieve the fallen fruit. Dmitri joined her, and they crawled around like a pair of spaniels sniffing for truffles.
After a while, Leila sat back on her haunches and started to laugh. It was a surprising sound; rich and deep, and as sensuous as melting chocolate, and it stopped Dmitri in his tracks.
'I'm sorry about the other evening,' she said. 'I hope I didn't offend you.'
'Not at all,' he lied. 'I behaved like a complete boor.'
'Elena told me you were down in the dumps. I was just trying to perk you up.'
'What? By wiping me off the board?' Then he added with a grin, 'I've never been so humiliated.'
'Maybe next time you'll take more care of your queen.'
An anguished look crossed Dmitri's face. For a moment, Leila’s face blurred. It was Mira he saw, accusing him with her final gesture of despair. He muttered, 'That will never happen again. Never.'
Leila was taken aback by the intensity of his response and wondered what she'd done to offend him this time.
'I'm being a boor again, aren't I?' he said ruefully. 'I even drew a picture of you the other morning. A harpy seizing my queen.'
She stared. 'Excuse me, what was that?'
He looked away, embarrassed. 'Don't ask. I was sorting things out in my head. I was annoyed with myself and had to blame someone.'
To his surprise, she laughed again. 'A harpy, huh? Wings, talons, the whole shebang?'
He nodded.
'Well,' she said, 'I hope you gave me fine feathers.'
They stood for a moment under the low-hanging branches of an old fig tree. Dmitri felt the quiet pressing in, but this time it didn't seem as heavy.
Leila lowered her eyes in mock repentance. 'Sorry if I came on too strong. I was just trying to haul you out of that pit you were in.'
'You are right about the pit,' he said. 'I just didn't like being dragged out.' He considered this, then continued, 'I wasn't exactly the perfect host, was I?'
'You were a pain in the arse,' she said lightly. 'But in fairness, so was I.'
An awkward silence followed, but he was saved from answering by a call from the kitchen.
'Leila! Where are those plums? I haven't got all day, you know.'
'Coming!' She raised her eyebrows at Dmitri. 'Jam making, bottling, preserving. I don't know what she intends to do with it all.'
She strode off, briefly turning to blow him a kiss. Dmitri remained where he stood, watching the sway of her hips until she vanished from sight.
Book of the Month contest entry
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Photo by Arthur A on Unsplash
British English spelling and grammar
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