The Owl

“No, not like that. Again.” Master Elyah swept the pieces from the chessboard. Del sighed out his frustration and reset the pieces… again.

“Again,” the master repeated. Del stilled his body and concentrated. He focused his power on the chessboard and his opponent, and the wooden pieces from the master’s set became a blur. He saw phantom pieces move, pawns advancing, knights trading, kings toppling. First his, then his again, and again and again until… was that it? 

He ran through it again, just to be sure. At this point in his training, the master had little care for speed. Accuracy was paramount, then pace, and potency would come last. All these months after receiving his Aspect, Del felt he was on the verge of mastering the first. He was told it would take years to hone the rest, but he preferred to think one step at a time. 

“You’ll open with your bishop again,” Del said, moving the pieces. Master Elyah nodded as his pawn opened, allowing a bishop to advance and be backed by a knight. Del’s moves were his own, but optimized by seeing the many possibilities of the master’s game plan. At first Del had questioned the point of the game — surely there were better ways to train his Aspect than endless chess matches — but he’d come to understand in time. The master’s Aspect of the Sphinx gave him a library of a memory, and the sharpness of mind to put it to use despite his age. He’d memorized centuries of chess theory, mastering every opening and technique old and new. The most Del had were the games he played with his mother when he was young, but neither of them had any real knack for theory. The only counter to a perfect knowledge of the game, then, was knowledge of the future. His Aspect of the Owl. 

The only catch was that he needed to be able to use it. 

Del advanced pieces into the mid game. Master Elyah kept his queen in the back, instead controlling the center via his knights. Del made the master’s moves for him, and the master nodded at each. So far, so good.

They entered the late game. Most pieces were taken, and each king was more exposed than ideal. He’d been here more than once, and every time he had flubbed the ending. There were no predetermined formations for a game state broken down to this point, only adaptation to the opponent. And for all the master’s skill, for all his theory and intelligence, he was still human. The perfection of the human mind perhaps, but not anything that a human couldn’t theoretically do already. 

Del was more. So he had to surpass the master. 

The master’s queen was in play, and he was one move from checkmate. Del froze. He had precisely five ways to delay it — three of which lost him the game in two turns, one that sacrificed a bishop and lost the game in five turns, and one that gave up two pieces but ultimately concluded in his victory in four. Could it be that simple? He had to be missing something. Every turn, thousands of possibilities, boiled down to four wrong moves and one right. Months of practice, all for nothing if he made a fatal mistake here, if he missed something like he had every other time. 

He gave up a bishop, then his last rook. He played out the last turns.

“Checkmate?”

The master gazed down at the board. Del had done everything right. He had broken down the master’s strategies move by move, had accounted for every possibility, and had found the answer. He had passed the test, he could not be more sure of it. And in that moment, he was nervous as hell.

Finally the master nodded. “Well done.” 

Del swelled with pride. He’d done it. He’d seen the future, far enough and accurately enough that he won. He beat a man who should be unbeatable, because he was mastering his gift. But he knew what came next.

Master Elyah reached into his coat and produced a small hourglass. “Reset the pieces.” 

Del dreaded nothing more than even more months of the same chess games, but with a time limit. And as he placed the pawns back on the board, he couldn’t help grinning at the prospect.