Have Imagination, Will Travel

by Adam Carter

  “Call,” Tarne said, as did Kiel. Sparky raised the bet by thirty. Darkthorne called, Tarne folded, and Kiel also called. The cards came down as the three of hearts and the six and nine of diamonds.

  “So what was it?” Sparky asked. “Check.”

  “What was what?” Darkthorne asked evasively. “Check.”

  “Check,” Kiel said, without further comment.

  The six of clubs came out as the turn card.

  “If he doesn’t want to talk about it, let’s not press him, shall we?” Tarne said. “We want a friendly game of poker after all, right?”

  “Sure,” Sparky said, “check.”

  “Check.”

  “Check. Final card is the two of diamonds,” Kiel said.

  “All in,” Sparky said. Everyone folded.

  “You have it?” Kiel asked as Sparky collected his chips. “The flush, I mean?”

  “Nope.”

  “Yeah, but he’s going to say that, isn’t he?” Darkthorne said, gathering up the deck for Sparky.

  “I remember it now,” Sparky said as he dealt. “It wasn’t what you minored in, was it? It was that weird cult you joined on campus.”

  “It was not a weird cult,” Darkthorne protested.

  “Not that neo-Nazi thing?” Kiel asked. “Fold.”

  “Call,” Sparky said. “And you moan at Heather’s witchcraft studies.”

  “I did not do witchcraft studies,” Tarne said.

  “And I’m not a cannibal,” Kiel said.

  All eyes turned to her, but no one said a word.

  “Call,” Darkthorne said at last. “I’m not sure I wanted to hear that last comment, Sara.”

  “Check,” Tarne said, refusing to say anything else on the matter herself.

  “Two, five, king,” Sparky said. “All unsuited.”

  “Check,” Darkthorne said, “and they weren’t neo-Nazis.”

  “Raise twenty,” Tarne said, “and yes they were.” Everyone else folded. “They had a thing against the Chinese, so don’t try to tell me they weren’t Nazis.”

  “They didn’t like Chinese food, Heather,” Darkthorne said as he dealt. “There’s a difference.”

  “Fold,” Sparky said.

  Darkthorne raised the pot by twenty. Tarne folded and Kiel called the bet. “They just had some radical ideas, that’s all,” Darkthorne explained. “Nine, three, queen.”

  “So what kind of a future do you reckon you have with them, then?” Kiel asked. “Check.”

  “Also check ... six of diamonds,” Darkthorne said. “Who said I had a future with them?”

  “You just did. Check.”

  “Well, I may have a few plans. Check also. Next card is a six of hearts.”

  “Check,” Kiel said. “Such as?”

  “Raise twenty.”

  “Fold. You didn’t answer my question.”

  Darkthorne waited for the cards to be dealt before he spoke again. “We’re not out to change the world or anything, we just think things should be done a bit differently, that’s all. Raise thirty.”

  “Call,” Kiel said.

  “Re-raise another thirty,” Sparky said. “You want to change the world, Jagrad, you come join the Navy with me.”

  “Don’t have the patience for that. Call.”

  “Call also,” Kiel said. “We know you lack patience, Jagrad. That’s why you didn’t get your degree.”

  “Anyway,” Tarne said, “flop shows the six of hearts and the seven and king of spades.”

  “All in,” Kiel said, lightly tapping a finger upon her cards as she pushed in her chips.

  “I’m in for that,” Sparky said, “and re-raise another sixty.”

  “How many’d you have, Sara?” Darkthorne asked.

  “Twenty.”

  Darkthorne threw in eighty pounds’ worth of chips, saying, “Might as well hope.”

  “Side-pot,” Tarne said. “You know you always forget the side-pot, Jagrad.”

  “My bad.”

  “Change the world how?” Kiel asked, turning over the next card. It was the three of spades.

  “Raise fifteen,” Sparky said, knowing full well this was all that Darkthorne had remaining before him.

  “Call,” Darkthorne said. “Only Sparky betting, so we might us well turn over.”

  “On your backs, everyone,” Tarne said. Sparky turned over the king of hearts and ace of spades, giving him a pair of kings and a possible flush. Darkthorne had pocket jacks, one of which was a spade, giving him a possible flush also, although not as good as Sparky’s. Kiel had only a seven and eight, neither of which was a spade, giving her a pair of sevens. Tarne quickly looked over the cards. “Uh, Jagrad needs a jack to turn up and has two outs, Sara needs a miracle, and Sparky pretty much has this game in hand, I think.”

  “I could win with a seven,” Kiel said. “I have two outs also.”

  “Not to rub it in, but glad I folded when I did,” Tarne said. She turned over the final card to reveal the nine of clubs. “Sara has a four-card-straight, Jagrad has a four-card flush, but Sparky takes it. Sparky deals, I’m on the smalls.”

  “Two birds with one stone,” Sparky said to Darkthorne and Kiel. “Sorry, guys, but you’ll have to be turfed out now. House rules.”

  “We’re not exactly in Vegas, Sparky,” Darkthorne commented. “Let me see your cards, Heather.”

  “Why is it that when you go out, Jagrad, you always have to play with someone else’s cards?”

  “Because I’m bored.”

  “You really should be used to it by now. Call.”

  “Check,” Sparky said. “We have a nine, a five and an eight.”

  “Raise twenty.”

  “Fold.”

  “Fold?” Darkthorne asked. “But, Sparky, she only had a pair of eights.”

  “Do you mind?” Tarne asked him. “You know, I hate it when you go out the game, you’re so annoying.”

  “I’m going off to raid the fridge.” Kiel said. “See you in a while.”

  “Why don’t you go with her?” Tarne asked Darkthorne.

  “Well, I ...”

  “Just go with her,” Sparky said harshly. “You know she wants you.”

  “She what?”

  Sparky mouthed the word ‘Go’ and Darkthorne went.

  “Well that was cruel,” Tarne said.

  “I know, poor Sara. Raise thirty.”

  “Fold.”

  Sparky dealt the cards. “So, what do you think of Jagrad’s chosen career path, Heather?”

  “Call. Well at least he’s living up to his name at last.”

  “Check. We have a three, eight, queen, different suits.”

  “Raise twenty.”

  “Fold.”

  “They think they’re doing right by society, though,” Tarne said as she dealt. She looked at her cards, revealing a king and queen suited. “They’ve set themselves up as some kind of modern-day chivalric knights.”

  “They say chivalry meant whatever each knight wanted for it to mean, that the most successful knights were those who made sure they never saw a day’s peace in their life. Chivalry meant entirely different things towards other knights than it did towards peasants. Call.”

  “So you think he’s considering the rest of the world as peasants?” Tarne asked. “Raise forty.”

  “Call. I’m saying that the man doesn’t realise there are other people in this world. To him, the Earth revolves around the great Jagrad Darkthorne. And that scares me.”

  Tarne dealt out the flop. There was a queen there, so she raised the bet. Sparky folded. “We haven’t had anyone with three pair yet,” she noted as Sparky began to shuffle.

  “There’s always one who tries to get away with that,” Sparky said. “Hold on a moment, who was the first to deal?”

  “Uh, Jagrad, why?”

  Sparky picked up the box and pulled out the two jokers. Only there were three of them. And one of them wasn’t a joker. “We’ve been playing without a full deck, Heath
er.”

  “I think some of us always do that.” She quickly counted up her chips. “Well, I have two hundred and twenty quid’s worth of chips. I’m willing to call it a day if you are, and we just tell the others Jagrad was trying to cheat.”

  “You think he did it on purpose again?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “He’s a lousy cheater, Heather “

  “I know, but then that’s why we let him get away with it. Remember the time he used to hide aces under his leg and then throw them under the table when he thought we weren’t looking?”

  “Or when he knocked the top card off the deck just slightly, then bent down to tie his shoe laces so he could peer up at the card,” Sparky laughed. “You know, I almost feel sorry that I have to take that guy’s money all the time.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Look, I’m going to grab some munchies with the guys if that’s all right with you.”

  “Hey, it’s what I stock my fridge for. I’ll tidy things up here.” Sparky left her and Tarne put the chips back into their rack. There came a knock upon the door and Tarne answered it, finding her landlord standing on the other side. “Mr Gruff,” she said, wishing she’d pushed the chips out of sight. Instead, she tried to block the doorway with her body. “What can I do for you this evening?”

  “Got some post for you,” he said, handing over two envelopes. “Meant to bring them up this morning but forgot.”

  There was no apology, but there never was. Just because he had meant to bring them up that morning, it did not necessarily mean they had been delivered that morning. They didn’t seem to be anything of any great importance, however, and Tarne wished she did know something about magic, for then she could just spirit her junk mail away and the companies who sent it right along with it.

  “Thanks, Mr Gruff,” she said, moving to close the door. “Good night.”

  “Just one moment, Miss Tarne,” he said, his hand preventing the door from closing.

  “What?” Tarne asked, glad that she had three of her friends in the flat, even if her landlord didn’t yet realise this. “It’s quite late, Mr Gruff, and I really could do with getting some sleep.”

  Mr Gruff peered through the gaps over her shoulder, as though trying to see into the room. “I don’t often get you alone, Heather,” he said. “Can we talk a moment?”

  “We are talking, Mr Gruff. Perhaps a moment too long. Good night.”

  “Could you come with me, Heather? I need to talk with you before they get back.”

  “They? As in my friends?”

  “Yes.”

  Tarne was not certain whether to laugh or kick him. “Look, I really don’t know what you expect, but there’s no chance I’m going anywhere with you this late at night. Now, I have some things to tidy up, so if you don’t mind ...”

  He moved quickly, slamming his hand once more upon the door as she attempted to close it. He stared intensely into her eyes. “Heather, you have to trust me. Things are not what they seem.”

  “What?”

  “You have to listen to me, Heather,” Mr Gruff urged. “I’ve been waiting a long while for you to be on your own, and very soon this story shall finish and those two damning words ‘the end’ shall erase your memory all over again.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Princess Aurellia,” he blurted out. “Bastelle. How could I know about them if I ...”

  “Mr Gruff, good night.” Tarne slammed the door and locked it, shooting the bolt to make certain he would remain on the other side. She shivered uncontrollably and turned back to the table, whereupon she continued to pack up the chips.

  Sparky reappeared moments thereafter with some cold chicken he had found in the fridge. “You all right?” he asked as he licked a finger. “I heard some shouting and general slamming of doors.”

  “Oh, just my landlord causing trouble.”

  “Really? Want me and Jagrad to have a word with him?”

  “Sparky, have you ever heard the word Bastelle?”

  Sparky slowly shook his head. “What’s that mean, then?”

  “I’m not sure. Mr Gruff mentioned it, and I’m sure I’ve heard the name somewhere before, although I just can’t ... Ah well, who cares? I’ll be away from this flat soon anyway, so I won’t have to put up with him for much longer.”

  “Right, so that’s it, then.”

  “The end,” muttered Tarne.

  “Hmm?”

  “Nothing.” Tarne shook her head and forced a smile that really didn’t want to come. “Nothing, Sparky, really. Just thinking about something said to me in the past. Something about the future.”

  THE END

  PAST CHAPTER

  King Callum III had sent Darkthorne and his people into the land where they were most needed. There were mixed feelings within the group as to whether they should have asked for, let alone accepted, the assignment, although the fact was that they had been given it, and they could not now refuse. They had requested the assignment because they wished for the king to look upon them favourably, although now that they were coming to realise it might well cost them their lives, they were beginning to see their task in a different light. Or perhaps the different light was because the day was ending and was now coming from the moon ... except the light was not actually coming from the moon since it was all reflected from the sun anyway, although that would have made it technically the same light.

  They saw their assignment through different eyes, and let’s not get into how varied that statement could be.

  Kiel had moved ahead as their scout and discovered a cave in which to spend the night. It proved to be of great strategic value, although they were not attempting to fight a war, only sneak into the city to which they had been sent.

  “According to the instructions,” Darkthorne said, “we’re to meet up with a General Ashus, and he’ll advise us of the best way into the city. Once inside, we’re to ascertain the reason these people are refusing to sign a treaty with the king, and diplomatically persuade them. We’re not to mention that the king dispatched us himself, for that might spark a war, and if we do, the king shall deny all knowledge and we’ll be left to fight alone. We believe there’s a Nagas presence within the city, and this is likely to be the reason for their hostility towards the king.”

  “Where’s the envelope containing the details of our destination?” Tarne asked from where she sat about their fire.

  “What envelope?” Darkthorne asked. “The king told us everything we needed to know.”

  “I thought we had a letter telling us the name of our contact,” Tarne said, “and where we’re supposed to drop off the fish.”

  “Fish?” Sparky asked. “What fish?”

  “You know I hate fish, Heather,” Darkthorne said. “Fish smell funny.”

  “You OK, Heather?” Kiel asked with uncharacteristic worry. “You look a little pale.”

  “She’s fine,” Old Man Robes said. “Nothing a little country air won’t cure with its vibrant icy winds.”

  “I’m fine,” Tarne assured her. “I guess I’ve just been having some strange dreams lately.” She paused as something else came to her mind. “Anyone ever hear the name Bastelle?”

  “As in capital city of the world?” Darkthorne asked slowly. “As in the city we just a few hours ago left?”

  Tarne shook her head and buried it in her knees, already holding her arms around her legs. “Just ignore me, I don’t think I’m feeling too well.”

  “Sure,” Darkthorne shrugged, “if you like.”

  The night passed slowly, and Tarne tossed fitfully, having strange dreams about gliding through the air on strange glowing wings and fighting someone with a cutlass while the very ground beneath her rocked unsteadily. She awoke more tired than she had been when she had gone to sleep, and the march towards General Ashus resumed. They walked for a long time, and the sun had reached its apex by the time they arrived at a large, fortified encampment. There appeared to be upwards of a t
housand tents, and far more soldiers. Many were on duty, although in the main they seemed to be relaxing. They had clearly been stationed within the encampment for a long time, and Tarne suspected the siege of the Nagas had been in effect for years.

  Their party was escorted through the camp towards a tent larger than the others. They were announced and, upon entering, found themselves confronted by something which was more a house than a tent. There was a large table in the centre of the room, with an ancient map held upon it by four heavy stones. There was a cot in one corner, and two great chests, presumably for clothes and personal keepsakes. The tent walls were decorated with weapons, masks, jewels and other trinkets picked up along the way or else brought from the general’s home. The man within the tent was a grizzled warrior with a thick moustache and a slight limp to his gait. He wore armour even though there was hardly the need to within the camp, and he grunted a vague acknowledgement of the party’s presence as they were presented unto him.

  “General Ashus?” Darkthorne asked, stepping forwards.

  “I take it you are ...” the general rustled some papers upon the map, then moved to his desk beside the cot before taking up some further letters. He read aloud from one of them. “Sir Jagrad of Darkthrone?

  “Darkthorne, sir,” Darkthorne corrected him. “Although if I was to possess a throne, I’m sure it would be dark. Ha!”

  “I look like I’m laughing, son?”

  “No, you certainly don’t look as though you’re laughing, General,” Darkthorne replied jovially.

  The general continued without further facial or vocal expression, stabbing a particular point within the letter. “Says here you and yours are goin’ into the city.”

  Darkthorne assumed the note had been sent by bird from the king. “That’s our mission, General.”

  “Mine too, son. Just that I been stationed here with my men for the past three years, waiting them out. Now you want to be the one to go marching in there, through the front door no less.”

  Tarne realised this situation could be far more tenuous than they had first thought, and that they would have to tread very carefully with this man unless they wanted to be buried in shallow graves and have the general inform the king of the unfortunate news that Darkthorne and his party had never arrived at the rendezvous point.