The last pawn

As the school coach trundled down the gravel driveway to Karmac Manor Maggie leaned forward in her seat, trying to get a view of the house through the trees.
"This place is a bit creepy," said Liam and shuffled about in the seat beside her. "The trees are half dead."
"Liam, you think jelly babies are creepy," she mocked. "It means nothing."
"They are. Especially when you bite their heads off."
Maggie shook her head in disbelief at how easy it was to scare him.
"Why do we need to visit this place anyway?" he asked.
Maggie leaned back and huffed as she had to explain the finer points of the school trip to him yet again. "'cos his Manor is only open once a year to visitors. God alone knows why. Something to do with money, I suspect. And the school is giving us the chance to 'feel' history."
"Who is he again?"
Maggie cuffed Liam round the head. "Does nothing stick in there?" she admonished. "He's Britain's most famous Chess Grandmaster. The only British Grandmaster."
"But the guy's dead. He ain't so famous now, is he?"
Maggie gritted her teeth and held back the urge to punch him on the nose. How could he be so mellow and uninterested in her hero. Albert Karmac was the reason she learnt to play Chess. Visiting his home, the place where he strategised his games, was akin to the early Christians making their pilgrimage to Jerusalem. It was more than important.

"When the bus pulls up can I ask that you disembark in an orderly fashion. No pushing or shoving, please," said the tailored form of Miss Mackay at the front of the bus.
"No chance of that," Liam muttered under his breath. "Who's gonna rush to see a load of dusty furniture?"
Maggie gave him a swift jab to the ribs. "Keep it button you, or I'll give you another one."
Liam frowned at her and rubbed his side."It's just as well we're friends you know, or I'd..."
"Or you'd what?" said Maggie with a sly grin and marched down the aisle of the bus and out into the chill of the Autumn air.
The gravel was strewn with dry, crunchy leaves that had blown across the sprawling grounds of Karmac's old manor. Maggie gawped at the Manor itself. It was a stunning Georgian building, with regimented paned windows, tall stone columns outside the entrance and thick, green ivy that trailed over the East wing.
"What I wouldn't give to live in a place like this," she muttered to herself.
When everyone had disembarked the heavy wooden entrance door to the Manor creaked open and out shuffled a frail petite woman with her gray hair tied back into a bun. But more remarkable was her costume. She wore a long-sleeved black dress that was nipped in at the waist and which flared out at the skirt in great folds of fabric.
"They certainly get into the groove, don't they?" said Liam.
Maggie couldn't argue with that.
The lady introduced herself as the tour guide and asked that out of respect for the former resident everyone keep to the tour route and not touch anything. Those words like a red rag to a bull for Maggie.
"Why do they always have to say that?" she spat. "Do they think we're all delinquents?"
Liam shrugged his shoulders and followed the rest of the class as they trudged behind the paper-thin lady.
Maggie tailed at the back. 'Out of sight out of mind' she thought.
As the class wound through the house with its long dark hallways and high ceilinged rooms Maggie listened to the elderly lady talk about Albert Karmac's life. As somewhat of an expert on him herself, Maggie felt she probably could have run the tour as none of what the lady said was news to her. There was only one thing about his life she didn't know.
"How did he die, exactly?" Maggie chirped up.
The class all turned and stared at her. The woman, it seemed, was considering both her answer and Maggie as although she was a good fifteen feet from where Maggie was standing she could tell the woman was eyeing her up.
"He died of an illness. It was brief and incurable," she said curtly before walking off to continue her tour through the dining room.
"Did he die here?" Maggie asked. She took the hint that the matter of Albert's death wasn't up for discussion but she didn't want to let it drop. She wanted answers.
Again the woman sized up Maggie. "Yes. He died in his bed. At the age of 42. Does that satisfy you?"
"His death or your answer?" asked Maggie flippantly.
The woman didn't grace Maggie's question with a response and continued her tour.
"I think you really cheesed her off you know?" sniggered Liam.
"She asked for it. I only asked a simple question."
As the party passed through what the woman called Albert's public reception room, Maggie lost interest in anything the woman had to say so she decided to take in the sights of the room herself, without being directed as to what to look at. The walls were cluttered with portraits of all sizes of people painted on heavy canvas and framed with ornate gilded wood. Maggie had no idea who those people were. Probably relatives, or friends she thought. But one smaller painting drew her attention. It was tucked away in the far corner of the room. The subject was an elderly woman in a black dress with grey hair tied in a bun. She was sat on a stone plinth outside the Manor. A chill ran across Maggie's back as the woman looked remarkably like the woman giving them the tour. Maggie shook the feeling from her. It couldn't possibly be the same woman. The woman in the picture would have to be at least two hundred years old by now.
"Psst, Maggie," whispered Liam from the top of the room as he waved his hands at Maggie. "Come on."
Maggie trotted after Liam and followed the group down a winding stone staircase that the old woman said led to the kitchens where Albert's favourite rabbit stew was cooked. At the bottom of the stairs Maggie spotted a couple of fake dead rabbits hanging from the wall of the kitchen for effect. It made her cringe and when she recoiled she noticed a small sign on a door to the left.
'RESTRICTED AREA'
Maggie couldn't resist. The idea that all sorts of objects relating to her hero that weren't on public display being hidden behind that door was too alluring to ignore. She had to open it before the curiosity brought her out into a rash.
As discreetly as she could she shuffled toward the door, inching ever closer. When she reached a hand across to turn the handle she looked back towards the old woman. She was talking about random kitchen stuff that had no bearing on Albert's life whatsoever but her eyes were fixed on Maggie. Maggie's heart leapt into her mouth but despite the fact that she was almost inside the 'restricted area' the old woman made no move to stop her. She never even stuttered through her monologue.
"Maggie, no," whispered Liam.
Maggie winked at him, slipped into the darkness and shut the door quietly behind her.
It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the low light, but gradually she could make out she was standing in a damp, grotty stone corridor. A steep set of steps in the shape of a horseshoe led down into the bowels of the Manor. Maggie's heart thumped with excitement; excitement that she was flouting the rules and satisfying her craving for facts. What was down there? She wondered.
Her disappointment couldn't have been more obvious when she reached the bottom and found nothing but a wine cellar. No boxes of treasures. No important records. No pictures. Nothing. But as she kicked an empty bottle across the gritty stone floor where it smashed against the wall something firm thumped down onto her shoulders and gripped them tight. It caught her by such surprise she didn't have enough time to scream before she was pulled back down a corridor. With her heart pounding and her head dizzy from the rush of adrenalin, she tried to grab hold of the wall and pull herself back but the force was too strong. Her fingers dragged along the walls as she scrambled to return to the cellar, breaking all her nails but she was dragged further and further away. Too terrified to turn to see what had hold of her she closed her eyes and let go of the wall. All that ran through her mind was Liam's last word. 'No'. Fate was now in control.
When she opened them she was curled up on the floor in a brightly lit room. Timorously Maggie looked around her, desperately hoping her capture was no longer around. All she could see though was a large chequerboard floor and not a stick of furniture.
"Welcome," said a booming voice.
"Who are you?" Maggie gasped.
"I am who you came here for."
"I don't understand. I came here on a tour. I'm not here to see anybody," she said.
"You were searching for something though, were you not?"
"Just information. More information."
"About me, yes?"
"I don't know. I don't know who you are."
"Perhaps it would be better if I showed you."
Maggie scrambled back on her hands and knees and cowered against the wall. She pulled the neck of her jumper up to her face, just high enough so her eyes could peak over and scan the room for the owner of the voice.
In the far corner a mist appeared out of nowhere and gradually took the form of a middle-aged man, solid and real-looking in every way. Maggie could see the resemblance to her hero but he was no longer the rotund, jolly character she'd come to know. He was grey, haggered, thin and gaunt.
"Now do you know me?" it asked.
"Karmac?" Maggie mumbled. "Albert Karmac? But you're dead."
Albert's eyes glinted in the light. "I know. Fascinating isn't it?"
Maggie swallowed the lump of terror rising in her throat. "But how? Are you a ghost?"
"More like a living ghost. Not quite dead but not quite alive either," it said with a malevolent chuckle.
"But the old woman upstairs said you died in your bed."
"Ah, my doting mother," said Albert as he strolled across the room towards her. "Devoted in spite of me."
The realisation that what Maggie saw upstairs in the reception room came screaming back to her. "She's the woman in the portrait, in your reception room?"
Albert nodded.
"But she must be like two hundred years old?"
"Two hundred and eleven, to be precise."
Maggie pulled her knees up to her chest, shrinking back as Albert advanced.
"I...I don't understand," she said.
"We are wraiths. Half dead, half alive. Bound to this place,like tethered animals for all eternity."
"Why?" Maggie asked, wanting but at the same time not wanting to know the answer.
"Punishment. Why else?" he sneered.
"Punishment for what?"
"For cheating," Albert roared.
Maggie realised she had pushed her curiosity too far as Albert stormed round the room, thrashing his arms about. She wanted to know how he cheated but was too afraid to ask.
"My mother was the chess genius. But women weren't allowed to play. They were barred. So she had me play in her stead. She used to signal manoeuvres to me with her fingers and hands. It was foolproof until some diligent spectator cottoned on to our deception," he shouted. "He blackmailed my mother and I for all I had. And when I became sick he could no longer pay my debts to him he cursed me for eternity."
For the first time since she was dragged into his lair, she felt angry. Angry that all the time she devoted to worshipping his talent was wasted.
"I was your fan," she said. "You were the reason I learned to play. I was so inspired by you but all along you were a cheat. A phony."
"Hollow, pointless victories in comparison to my work, now," said Albert. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "You are what I've been waiting for."
His words were so icy Maggie felt her entire body freeze. And as he swept back giving Maggie full view of the empty room, he clicked his fingers. Maggie watched in disbelief as the checker squares opened up and from beneath the floor emerged life-like statues of crowned kings and queens and black knights and black rooks and mitred bishops. They all wore stunned expressions, as though frozen where they stood.
"For the last one hundred years I have been collecting these pieces. Souls that have wandered, mostly voluntarily, into my home. They have fed my passion, my love and now my work is almost complete," he said grinning at Maggie. "You are my last pawn. The one who will take up that vacant position on the board," he added pointing to the open spot in front of the queen.
"No, never!" Maggie screamed. She turned and began scratching at the wall, frantically searching for an exit. She pushed and rammed her shoulder against the stone, feeling it crack and splinter from the impact. She cried out in pain and clutched her arm. Her heart was pounding, her skin soaked with sweat. Breathless she staggered round the room as Albert Karmac followed her with a gleeful grin and wide eyes.
"It is too late, my dear," he hissed. "Your curiosity has gotten the better of you."
Maggie fell to her knees and pleaded for her life. "I didn't mean to come in. I didn't mean to open that door. I only wanted to learn more about you."
Albert bore down on her, his arms outstretched, ready to grab her.
"And you will my dear, for you are mine now, for all eternity. The last pawn."