“W hat’s going on?”
“I have no idea,” the Pillar says, stretching out his arms for balance, the same as me. “Hang on tight, Alice.”
“This is ridiculous,” I say. “We’ve ended up here because of the clue in the black queen chess piece. Are we going to die?”
“Unless Fabiola and Lewis intended a horrible fate for those who looked for Carroll’s Knight, it couldn’t be,” the Pillar says. The whole Chess City starts to shake all around us. “Why would Lewis want us to die if he’s scattered the pieces all over the world? He could have simply thrown them into the ocean for no one to find them.”
“But he didn’t.” It’s getting hard to keep balance. “He hid the pieces from the Chessmaster, but he wanted someone else to find them. Probably me.”
It’s this exact moment when I realize that the final chess game is definitely between me and the Chessmaster. Carroll’s Knight isn’t just something the Chessmaster needs, but also fears.
This is it!
This is the part I read in the notes, where it explains he is afraid of something. I think the Chessmaster is afraid of me. No, that’s not quite it. He is afraid of me finding Carroll’s Knight, but he also had no choice but have me look for it. Because whatever Carroll’s Knight is for, Lewis was smart enough to hide it from the Chessmaster, and only have me find it.
My head spins as I think of my lock of hair, which released the very first piece in this journey. Lewis planned this all along. As always, he proves to be a genius.
A sudden, loud crackling sound rises in the distance.
It’s like a microphone connected to the loudest of amplifiers. The crackling is too loud; it surpasses the sound of crashing and tumbling buildings all around us.
“What is that?” I ask the Pillar.
“Someone’s idea of this being an excellent time for having a concert.”
Someone’s voice comes through the amplifiers: “By stepping on both white and black tiles, you have activated mankind’s last game of chess.”
The Pillar glares, with blame-filled eyes, toward me.
“I only asked you to step on the white tiles.” I scowl.
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s always my fault.”
The amplified voice laughs, ever so loud, as the shaking of the earth slowly subsides.
“Evil laugh,” the Pillar says. “I’m sick of those silly laughs in Hollywood movies. I mean, what real badass villain laughs like that?”
“Me!” The answer echoes in the empty city.
I tilt my head upward, wondering if the voice comes from the sky, but it doesn’t.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“They call me the Chessmaster,” the voice answers. “My real name is Vozchik Stolb. But I’m sure the Pillar knows that already.”