Instead of thousand possibilities - part 4 - Journey across the river
This is the fourth part of the chess story Instead of a Thousand Possibilities. If you haven’t read the first, second, and third parts yet, now is the perfect time to do so.
I’m not sure whether I should reveal what’s coming in this chapter—so I’ll share just one important thing: crossing to the other side of the river won’t be easy.
INSTEAD OF THOUSAND POSSIBILITIES - PART 4 - JOURNEY ACROSS THE RIVER
Ray was down by the river in the canyon, and the pain in his leg—right where the burn and torn skin were—was still screaming. But down by the water, there was mist, thick and low, and suddenly he saw a sail poke through it.
As the boat drifted closer, he saw it was entirely yellow. Behind it came a red one, then a blue, and finally a green. It hit Ray then—they looked like something out of that four-player chess variant called Chaturaji.
On the boats were people with elephant heads, like the elephant piece from Chaturanga. One of them spoke to Ray. His voice was terrifyingly deep, but oddly gentle too:
“If you want to get to the other side of the canyon, you’ll need to cross the river. You can come with us.”
“No, thanks. I think I can swim it,” Ray said.
The elephant-headed man replied,
“You probably could swim it. It’s about five kilometers across. But you don’t look like you’re from around here, and the danger in the river—well, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Ray blinked.
“What danger?”
The elephant-man didn’t hesitate for even a second.
“A duck.”
Ray’s face twisted.
“A what? A duck?”
“Yes. A duck. I mean the chess piece—the duck. You might know it from Duck Chess or that variant called The Lake. It blocks squares, right? Doesn’t capture, just limits movement. Same idea here—it blocks our way to the other side. Every time we get close, it floats in front of the boat again. And even if it didn’t move, it’s fifty meters long and forty-five meters tall. No one wants to go around it,” he explained.
Ray took a moment to process it. Honestly, it might’ve taken him less time if the elephant-man hadn’t dumped so much information on him at once. He had to mentally sift through the noise. But eventually, it clicked. He’d looked deeply pensive for a bit, but the elephant-man seemed to understand.
Ray finally asked,
“So... you *can* get past the duck piece?”
“We can. It takes time, and it’s tricky. We can do it in the boat, but if you try swimming, you’ll fail. And you must not anger it. You don’t know what to watch out for,” said the elephant-man.
Ray tilted his head.
“What should I watch out for?”
The elephant-man didn’t answer directly. He just said,
“You’ll find out soon enough. I’ll tell you once we’re on the boat. You’ll be coming with me, on the yellow boat. I hope that’s alright.”
Ray shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter who plays first. What matters is how you play.”
The elephant-man nodded in approval and stepped aboard. Ray followed, and the boat pushed off.
---
As Ray looked out from the boat, all he could see was mist. But even with how thick it was, he figured he’d notice a fifty-meter-long duck if it got close enough.
Before long, the elephant-man came over holding disinfectant and a bandage. The disinfectant was in a bottle shaped like a pawn. It burned so much that Ray figured it would’ve hurt less to rub straw into the wound and take a dip in a barrel of pure lemon juice.
It was horrible. But it worked. And Ray really didn’t want an infection—not in *this* world. He had no idea what kind of bacteria lived here. Maybe they looked like chess pieces too, and instead of capturing your pawns, they just slowly took your life. Not exactly something he wanted to test.
The elephant-man wrapped the wound, pulled Ray’s pants leg back down—though the bloodstain had mostly faded—and explained that he’d tried rinsing the fabric in the river.
Ray thanked him, and the elephant-man just waved it off, returning to minding the direction of the boat. The mist somehow grew even denser. It was now as white as clouds and about as transparent as liquid glue—which is to say, not at all.
And yet, the elephant-man knew where he was going. Sometimes you don’t need to see the path to follow it. If your senses are sharp enough, you won’t get lost.
Ray was genuinely amazed by how well the elephant-man navigated the river—but still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Knowing the rules doesn’t guarantee a win. That’s just how it is. And even the best-laid plan can fall apart if someone else’s plan trumps yours.
So far, though, everything had gone smoothly. Until—of course—a duck appeared.
It was massive. Even through the blinding mist, it was visible. And yeah, it was bizarre. Its beak was half open—big enough to fit a two-story house inside. Its wings were comically oversized, and Ray figured that if it flapped even once, it’d drop the river’s water level by at least five meters.
This duck was absurdly huge—and Ray couldn’t even see all of it. The enormous, rounded base was hidden underwater. The elephant-man quickly spun the boat away to avoid a collision—so fast that Ray would’ve fallen if he hadn’t slammed into the mast with the sail.
He groaned, pushed himself upright, and saw they were now skimming along the riverbank. He noticed something else too: the duck was following them, still positioning itself between them and the far side of the canyon.
Ray started to say something—but the elephant-man grabbed him by the shoulder and warned,
“Don’t shout at the duck. That’s what makes it angry.”
“Okay,” Ray said quietly—and wisely kept his mouth shut.
A little while later, the elephant-man spotted a chance to maneuver around it. He took it—fast—and it actually worked. But in the process, the boat slammed hard into a rock near the shore, tearing a hole in the side. Water started rushing in.
Ray moved to jump overboard, but the pain in his leg came roaring back. It burned like hell—probably because the movement had rubbed the bandage against the raw burn. At least, that’s what Ray *thought*. He couldn’t be sure.
---
The boat kept sinking—and Ray sank with it. Water swallowed him whole. His clothes and the bandage were instantly soaked. The elephant-man was already standing safely on the shore.
Just then, seventeen Berolina pawns swam past him. Ray recognized them from the variant called Berolina chess. Each was maybe fifteen centimeters tall and about four wide—but they were vicious, like little piranhas.
They started poking at him, their triple-pointed tips digging into his skin. One of them even wriggled under the bandage and jabbed its sharp points into his burn. A thin stream of blood began leaking into the water.
That seemed to excite the Berolinas even more—but Ray kept swimming for the surface. He was deep, but not so deep he couldn’t make it. Eventually, he broke through the water and gasped for air. Reaching behind the bandage, he yanked out the pawn and flung it back into the river.
Blood was flowing from the wound again, but other than that, he was just dripping wet.
The elephant-man stood before him and simply said,
“We have to go.”
Ray took a few moments to catch his breath—just a few—and then carried on with his journey.
A FEW WORDS FROM THE AUTHOR
Dear reader,
As you’ve probably noticed, this isn’t the final part of the story. As I mentioned at the end of the previous chapter, unlike in Dragon Wasteland, this story doesn’t yet include the additional sections with chess-related insights or the more detailed A Few Words from the Author. These will either appear at the end of the final chapter or be published separately on the blog afterward.
In any case, thank you for taking the time to read this part. If you have any questions or feedback, feel free to let me know in the comments.
Thank you!
