She directed dozens of demons to form up around her and hurl themselves at the enemy, sometimes literally throwing themselves on top of enemy soldiers that were climbing the ladders to dislodge them and a handful of others, so she could reach the weak point in the assault.
She almost bumped into one of them, a wasp-man. It was perched at the top of the wall next to one of the ladders. She passed so close to it that their personal shields flashed red. The wasp-man turned to watch Jessica and her desperate entourage, confused that she had abandoned her defences. It seemed to wave at her then, as if to say, “hello.” She frowned and ran onwards.
Since most of her forces had moved back from the walls, the Yellows came over virtually unopposed. The retreat was so sudden, the wasp-man called a halt to the assault, probably suspecting another feint.
Not quite, Jessica thought.
"Over the walls!" she told the demons that had reached her. With robotic precision her demons slid down the abandoned ladders to land on the dirt below. Once enough demons had gone down they interlocked their hands.
"Jump!" The lead shield-bearer said at her shoulder. "Your protective bubble remains; you will not be hurt if they do not catch you."
She jumped and wind whistled in her ears. Strong hands caught her and lowered her to the ground.
"The Yellows are at the keep, Jessica; not many demons made it in. We've reinforced the main door, but I doubt it'll hold for long," Peter said.
"Just hold on for as long as you can. When I give the order, tell the rest of the mounted cavalry to head around to the castle's gate-side." Peter replied with a barely audible curse and shouted something at the demons in the keep with him. "Run now, as fast as you can," she told her group of forty or so demons.
They raced towards the main battlefield between the two castles, dodging thrown spears and arrows. In twos and threes, demons peeled off to slow down handfuls of howling Yellows that charged after her group. At what she thought was about a hundred metres from the castle she clicked on her mic, "Okay Georgy," Jessica was almost breathless as she spoke, "I'm entering the game. How do I do it?"
"Done," he said without hesitation.
"RED TEAM COMMANDER HAS ENTERED THE GAME," a loud voice said in her earpiece.
"I hope this works..." She needn't have worried; a warbling cry rang from the Yellows around the castle wall. "Shit," she said as several hundred heads swivelled in her direction, "Peter, send the cavalry, now." Peter grunted into his mic.
"Run Jess, run," Georgy said.
Her demon bodyguards were already dragging her as fast as they could. They didn’t bother letting her use her legs. Almost in a panic the shield-bearer leader, who had never left her side since his arm had been cut, dropped his long sword and lifted her onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. His bloody stump pressed down on her face and she tasted his blood and sweat. She couldn't see or hear much for a time as she was carried over mud, dirt, and bodies. The demon's pounding feet matched her racing heart.
I'm going to die, I'm going to die. Oh, crap, what did I do? Her armour chafed badly in her groin and shoulders and it felt like something bit into her right foot, but she couldn’t scream.
Something knocked the wind out of her shield-bearer and she was launched forwards onto the ground, narrowly avoiding the pointy end of a broken spear. Her world spun around her while she rolled and tasted dirt. Pain shot up her right leg and she screamed. Her vision blurred and a rough red hand held her down before she could try to get back onto her feet. A red fence erected itself around her before yellow blobs assailed them.
Her fence crumbled quickly and a round shield blocked her view. She could still hear meaty thuds and terrible grunts beyond that shield, but then something heavy battered at the shield. Her last shield-bearer struggled under the pounding and yellow hands reached around to tear the shield away. She reached out and grabbed an axe, preparing to help her last shield bearer.
"We've got you!" Peter shouted into his mic.
Still dazed, she saw Peter at the head of a tightly packed group of red horses. Using spears and leather-padded horse flesh, the horsemen crashed into the disorganized yellow formations and sent them flying for metres around her. A second group of horsemen crashed into the yellow forces from the opposite side, trapping them in a pincer movement. Jessica leapt to her feet and hacked at a yellow soldier while it was staring at the horsemen, then embedded her axe in the neck of another before four last demons could come to her aid. Several of the Yellows still tried to reach her, but they lacked cohesion, her demons cut a path through to safety.
In the confusion Jessica was carried far from the battle and a horseman accompanied her, running down any strays that tried to attack her little group. The Yellows eventually gave up trying to chase the main group of horsemen and elected to regroup at the castle. They were harassed all the way back by Peter's expert use of the cavalry, losing dozens of soldiers each time Peter called a charge.
Once they reached the fort, the Yellows found that they could no longer climb the walls. The remaining defenders had won against the few Yellows inside the keep and had regained the walls. The ladders had been destroyed or taken inside. The defenders now took up bows and started firing arrows at the mass of Yellow soldiers below them.
Trapped between the cavalry and the archers on the wall there were still more Yellows than reds, and they were forming a compact shield-wall. Peter called off his cavalry attacks. They were tired, the enemy archers were still quite dangerous, and any charge would likely see the horses crash against the walls or trip over the bodies lumped nearby.
"Peter, send your cavalry back into the fort, tell the archers to hold their arrows." A small grin formed on her mouth as she remembered some of her history lessons.
"YELLOW TEAM CALLS TRUCE," a voice announced before she could send a new order.
"Georgy what does that mean?"
"Just a moment," Georgy said, his mic clicked off a second later. Jessica raised a tired hand against the nearest star's glare. She found Georgy's observation platform hovering a hundred metres above the fort’s walls. He was gesturing into the air, presumably talking to the observation platform's computer. She sat down and examined an arrow sticking out of her right foot while her guards kept lookout around her.
A moment later she heard a click, "The computer let me talk to Ammon, he said the wasp-men want to end the game. They don't think they can get any further without losing too many points and they're offering a way out for us because they don't think we can gain any more either."
"Nope."
"Jess?"
"My answer is no. Tell them they need to surrender now."
"Are you—"
"Just do it. Peter, get your soldiers to fetch buckets of oil and grab some logs from the keep's fireplace."
"Ah, I see..." Georgy said.
A few minutes later, black smoke and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.
"YELLOW TEAM SURRENDERS."
“Perfect,” the Trustee whispered to itself.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Our allies will not be too pleased at this insult. Beaten and burned by my upstart humans after such limited training. Such a turn of events! If it weren’t the wasp-men's troops I’d be proud.”
“Shall I punish them?”
“Punish? No-no... this result furthers my plans. Instead, let them know of our ally’s displeasure. I will smooth things over with the wasp-men, then I’ll come see our commanders myself.”
***
Jessica's smile was slowly curving downwards under Ammon's hard frown. "A disaster," he was telling them on their way back to the Inveigled Ambassador from the Everworld. "A humiliation!"
"Bullshit," Peter said. "We won, we GAH!" Ammon slapped Peter on the side of his head.
"My translators indicate that 'bullshit' is an indecent slur. Show respect to your teacher, Peter Dorn, or you may not live to see the next game." Peter rubbed the side of his head and frowned in silence. "You humilia
ted your superior opponents in spectacular fashion. Yes, this battle was won, but at such cost. Ninety percent casualties, loss of both the main field and the fort’s walls. Your game was being watched by millions of observers. Do you understand this term? Millions? I see that you might grasp the figure.
“Jessica, such a stupid gamble to enter the games! Humanity's fate could have been sealed had you been killed or captured! There would have been no more wargames for humanity unless the impossible was achieved in the next two rounds. No chances for furtherance on the galactic stage."
"Humanity has gotten this far without any help," Jessica said.
"Has it? Would humans truly be alive without the efforts of your predecessors in these games?"
"We put people on the moon," Peter said.
Ammon raised an eyebrow, "An interesting development. So, some advancements have been made, finally."
The three competitors looked at each other before Georgy said, "Are you inferring that a long time ago, another team of humans somehow... won some prizes and gained technology?"
"Hmph, I would have thought the answer an obvious one. I confess I do not know how your predecessors applied their winnings once they returned to Earth."
"How long ago was this?" Georgy said.
"Over two thousand, three hundred and forty years ago, by your reckoning. A marvellous team they were, adaptable, philosophical, great learners." Ammon raised his head and closed his eyes as he spoke. He opened his eyes again to give them each a long look. "What you three have done is... terrible. Under normal circumstances it would be something of a jest, a good laugh at the misfortunes of our enemies. These are not normal times. The wasp-men offered a fair truce after you humiliated them, but you," he pointed at Jessica with a crooked fingernail, "burned them alive." He took a deep breath and sighed loudly, "I managed to collect your winnings, you were also awarded a bonus due to a handicap the Everworld Games Masters have placed on humans as a minnow team. Interest in your unusual victory is quite intense. I was almost crushed by curious citizens while I was trying to collect the points. But there is another issue now."
"I take it the wasp-men are pissed off and want some revenge?" Jessica said.
"They are unhappy, yes, but they are respectful and are playing in an area that was not their expertise; it is a minor loss for their team overall. No, the issue is that our Trustee’s opponents, who are leaders of a powerful faction amongst the Everworld's caretakers, have taken a keen interest in you. They have petitioned the Arbiter’s Guild to enter a team against you for the next game."
Jessica looked around at the broad shuttle, taking in the sparse numbers of still-functioning demons arrayed in lines. The demons were facing the front of the shuttle, oblivious to the conversation taking place in front of them. The bodies of the fallen were packed into large blue crates for transport back to the Inveigled Ambassador where they would be brought back to life. "So, these opponents are better than the wasp-men?" She imagined the entire shuttle full of blue crates.
"Jessica, they are champions of thousands of games over tens of millennia. If the petition is successful, we must counter-petition for a forfeit or risk total failure. Your winnings are barely enough to give you some paltry gifts. All the winnings will be lost, and our Trustee will find it very difficult to recover."
Georgy looked thoughtful. "Tell me, Ammon, what will the next game consist of?"
Ammon looked at them all, worry creasing his already wrinkled eyes. "A battle that no humans could ever fully prepare for in the time allotted."
***
"Ammon has little grasp of human history in the last few hundred years," Georgy told them while they tried to sleep on white form-fitting mattresses. "This next game sounds much like World War Two. Or the Cold War. We will be given things like diesel-powered tanks, machine guns, jet aircraft, warships. This must be why I was chosen to lead this round."
"You fought in World War Two?" Peter asked with a sneer. "You must be a lot older than I thought.”
"No, you idiot. I was a weapons officer aboard a Russian warship. I have had little military experience, but I assure you, I am very capable. We will not lose."
"So certain are you," Peter said in an oddly familiar voice. "What about these... what were they called?"
"The Plinth," Jessica informed him.
"Yeah, Plinths. They sound invincible; wouldn't you say?"
"'Smart, eight feet tall, claws like long knives,' I think the description was," Jessica added.
"Who are also tens of thousands of years out of their comfort zone. This sort of war I have first-hand experience in, but to them, it's ancient history."
They all looked at a noise in the middle of their sleeping chamber. There was a hissing sound and a hole appeared in the floor. Liquid steps dripped down, and the room’s lights increased their intensity from moonlight to midday sun. They shielded their eyes for a moment and heard someone enter the room from the red-rimmed doorway. "Up," Ammon told them. “Your Trustee approaches; get up!"
It navigated the white steps up into their sleeping chamber.
It was dressed in familiar red clothes but stood on large legs that reminded Jessica of a frog and smelled like a rotting, moss-covered tree. The thing’s top half looked like a snail’s head with arms sticking out of the base of its neck. Its four eye-topped stalks twitched and snapped around to look at her. She heard the others gasp.
“Welcome, Team Earth, I trust you are well,” the monster spoke to them with a soft, melodious voice, like a mother calming her brood. “Please, don’t be shy, take your time to adjust to the light.”
“Well, it's about time," Peter said. "Why couldn't you have seen us earlier?" Ammon frowned at him.
“Calm,” the monster said, holding up its two small arms in a gesture of peace, “I did not mean to upset you.” It turned to one of the walls and pointed at it. The entire wall morphed from a soft padding into a large flat screen. A picture of the infinitely flat, wide Everworld quickly formed on the screen. “This plot of land you see before you is Games Central. I’ve brought you all here for the one hundred thousand, five hundred and forty-second Inter-Galactic War Games.”
“The one hundred thou—” Jessica started to say.
“Yes, yes,” the monster told them, “you are aboard my private cruiser, above Games Central. You have had an upsetting few days. For that, I apologise. I must properly introduce you to your involvement here. The, ahem, ‘planet,’ which we call the Everworld, is an artificial construct, approximately five million times the size of your sun. Built for a great many reasons, for many years it has specifically been used to host the grandest war games in the galaxy!” The monster pointed at the screen again and the Everworld disappeared, replaced with a wall of text, the top few words were in English, “This is my name, 'Hubunker.’”
“Now, introductions for the rest of you are in order. Hmm,” Hubunker studied the wall of text for a minute before continuing. “If only they would give us more time… but oh, hey, I have an idea; you could all state your own names and occupations, that would help me greatly.”
“Wait, you don't know who we are?" Peter said.
“I have been a little busy of late, seeing off ruffians, keeping our friends happy, and what have you. I have been watching you from afar, though. Well, hmm, it would help me to know who you are, and then to, ah...” it hesitated, “sort you into your roles.”
"Haven't we already done that?" Jessica said, getting more and more worried.
"Silence," Ammon said. "Yes, Hubunker, as this child states, their roles were chosen by your probes already."
The four eye-stalks turned to regard Ammon, then to look at each of the humans at the same time. "They were?"
"Apparently." Peter looked side on at Ammon.
"Fascinating." Hubunker sat down next to Ammon. “Earth team, I am your benefactor, your species’ Trustee as it were. You do know what this is all about, don’t you?” It paused for a moment. “Is that… are you all gi
ving me the blank face?” Hubunker sighed, “As I said, this is the one hundred thousand, five hundred and forty-second games, which are held once every, maybe, seventy Earth years, so by your relatively short lifetimes the games have been going for quite some time.”
“Seven million years,” Georgy whispered.
Hubunker heard him, “Ah, yes, close enough, I think... Anyway, each team entered into the games acts as the commanders of armies, each of which is given technology equivalent to different eras of development. For example, the first battle you fought was conducted using technology very similar to that of your Medieval ages, while the last battle will take place over great distances in the centre of the Everworld.”
“Look, we know all of that, but what exactly do we need to do to go home?” Jessica asked.
“I wouldn't mind knowing too," Peter said.
“Uh, there is a slight problem with that particular question.” Hubunker held his three-fingered hand up to stop more questions. “There’s the question of funds required to send you back. It is a considerable sum and your winnings so far are a small fraction of what you will need.”
“Could you just take out a loan to send us back?” Peter said.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. No entity would dare loan me the vast amount of funds needed to send you back. I am quite wealthy, as such things go, but it has taken me a hundred of your years to acquire the funds to bring you here. It would cost even more to send you back.”
“Why bring us here in the first place?” Peter asked. "How does it benefit you?"
“As your planet’s Trustee, I stand to win or lose certain things that I might desire: more friends among the Everworld factions, satisfaction in guiding a minnow race of bipeds, and currency of course. I could not run things around here without some points. You are fortunate I have continued to take an interest in your species! There are much crueller trustees out here who also have a desire to use your race and tamper with your development. Fortunately, I raised enough funds this time before someone else took away my privileges and I was allowed to send a probe to search for viable candidates.
Wargames of the Everworld Page 3