Kevin shook his head in disbelief; but Max was more disturbed by Eviane’s gasp of recognition. Her eyes were fixed, staring. He took her hand: it was rigid.
“Here is your challenge,” Sedna said. “There will be dangers both physical and psychic. My own energy is taken with healing. I can give you one gift. I can return to life one who has suffered in your service, one who died, and even through death served you.
“Rise, Eviane.”
A nimbus of pale light played around Eviane. Her mouth opened in a surprised “0.” The other Adventurers stared. Eviane began to shake. Then the light faded, and Eviane stared at her hands in amazement.
Max prodded her with a sturdy forefinger. “Yep. All meat. No filling.”
Sedna’s full lips smiled warmly. “Rise, living woman. Restored to your compatriots, restored to life, still you have seen beyond the veil of death. The power of foresight is yours, now and forever. Rise, Eviane, restored to hope, to love. Rise.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE SNOWMAN’S WAR
“Gotcha!”
Max ducked, too late. The snowball hit him in the side of the head, exploding in a burst of fluff.
“Point!” one of the two judges called. The judges were unusual. They looked like snowmen: more the Frosty than the Abominable variety. Complete with carrot noses and black top hats, the two odd creatures had appeared at the beginning of the evening break, and led the Gamers on a whistling march to a mountain concealing a network of ice caves. Inside the cave was a suspiciously warm spring, and a banquet of fresh fruit, vegetables, hot breads, and lean proteins.
After the meal most of the Adventurers had been coaxed back into the bracing cold for a little game.
With the glowing sky above them, the vast expanse of arctic plain surrounding them, and the specter of tomorrow’s destruction before them, the Gamers had adopted very much of a “Tomorrow we die” air, and engaged in the greatest snow war of all time.
Johnny Welsh wouldn’t play; he didn’t like things hitting him in the face. Orson wouldn’t play; it just didn’t sound like fun. Max no longer found that surprising, but it still bothered him. Those two watched from the sidelines, looking obscenely comfortable.
There were two trenches twenty feet apart, with low parapets of snow. Max, Eviane, and Trianna manned the battlements. Behind them crouched Hebert and Kevin. Together they composed the Reds, a gang of desperados if ever there was one.
They sucked frigid air, dizzy with exhaustion. A few minutes earlier they had repulsed an all-out assault by the Blues.
They had Charlene on defense, and although she had to stop every few minutes to massage her knees, she was actually quite good. She couldn’t run anymore, but dogged practice had given her fair control of a snowball, and indecently high speed. Her first attempts were hilarious; her reflexes didn’t know which way gravity went.
Kevin threw himself into the game with maniac zeal which was already beginning to flag. He had no reserves at all.
The Blues were headed by Hippogryph. Max had experienced firsthand the full brunt of the man’s tactical brilliance—
(“The Cabal!” Hippogryph screamed. When Kevin turned his head to look, pop.)
—and his courage: hiding behind a shrieking Charlene, approaching under a white flag to strike swiftly and devastatingly. Max decided that he didn’t like the man. The only reasonable course was assassination.
“Kevin?”
Kevin was winded, and flushed from where a snowball had brushed the end of his nose, followed a moment later by a dinosaur-killer that exploded on his parka. The skinny computer-warrior wasn’t going to be much use much longer.
The situation was grim.
“We have to lure that son of a bitch out,” Max said.
“How?” Pant pant. “Got any ideas?” Pant.
“Well, he already used the white flag, so that’s no good. What about single combat?”
“What?”
“I remember reading about a form of Eskimo single combat. I could challenge him. If it looked like I was losing, you could bomb him.”
“Why do you think he’d go for that? You’re bigger than he is.”
Max grinned. “Yeah—but I think he’s Dream Park Security. if he is, he’s well trained. He won’t be intimidated by size.”
Eviane nodded. “Sounds good.” Her face clouded for a moment. “Are you sure we have guards posted? I like playing—”
“We’re on break—” Kevin started.
Max shut him down with a wave. Stay in character. “I’ve got Johnny and Orson keeping an eye out for the Cabal. We need the relaxation.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” Eviane seemed vague.
“So what’s got you so worried?”
“I feel blind. I still get glimpses of the future, Max, from back when I was dead. But I don’t remember any of this.”
Trianna and Kevin tried not to roll their eyes too obtrusively.
The two snowmen referees looked somewhat like fluffy white Gumbies. One waddled over to the Red team’s walls and intoned, “The score is twenty-four to twenty-four. The rules allow for an extension of the play period, or you can go for sudden death.”
Max beamed. “Sudden death!”
“And the preferred mode?”
“Mano a mano. Get that lardass Hippogryph off his duff. Quote me.”
The snowman’s eyes twinkled: an odd sight. “You can be sure of it, sir.”
Kevin brushed snow out of his hair, and plopped back against the snowdrift. “Do you really think he’ll go for it?”
“I can hope.”
“And if he does, do you think you can fuck him up?”
“Kevin, do you eat with that mouth?”
Kevin shuffled his feet, embarrassed. “What I meant was, I’ve never actually seen you fight, but this isn’t some choreographed bullshit—”
Max batted an arm at him. Kevin yiped and skipped away. Eviane drew lines in the snow with her finger, thinking absently. “I’ve . . . been here before.”
“Here? You mean this exact place, reliving this exact day?”
She smiled shyly. “Something like that. It’s the place, and I think I was doing the same thing. And it was just as important as everything is today . . . ”
“But?”
“But different people were there. No snowmen. And four of us were dead before we ever reached here. We’ve been lucky.”
“I wasn’t there?”
Her green eyes flashed at him. Devastating. “No. You weren’t.”
The snowman plodded back over to him. “The leader of the Blue team has accepted your challenge. We have a traditional Eskimo combat ready for you.”
Max peered up over the lip to be sure that no snowballs were arcing merrily toward him, and then climbed up out of the slit.
Opposite him, Hippogryph was discarding his external garb. He peeled down to a thermal shirt. Charlene Dula stood beside him, delighted. My hero! She grinned a challenge at Eviane.
Max saw his chance, and took it. “My lady,” he said to
Eviane. “I fight for all of us, but would you honor me by allowing me to be your personal champion?”
Eviane stared blankly. “What do you mean?”
“Allow me to carry some little memento into battle with me.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and finally she giggled. Actually giggled! and said, “Sure.” She took off her belt and handed it to him. Max wrapped it around his thigh, cinched it tight, and tucked the tail in. He bowed expansively to her, and trudged off to do battle.
The two snowmen led the way. They were great clumsy beasts, the heads sometimes wobbling for balance. One of them tripped. The head fell off, made a squashing sound as it hit the ground. He had to feel around for a moment to find it.
The procession marched along—
(It was a moment before Max realized that there were actually martial strains in the background. Soft, integrated with the wind until he could persuade himself that it was
his imagination; but no, there it was. Sousa march? Maybe.)
A hundred yards from the snowball battle area was a patch of ice fifteen feet across. Max looked down into it. He saw a stirring in the depths. A mermaid floated to the surface and blew a kiss at him, pressing lips and palms against the surface of the ice. She was gone before he could react.
“Wasn’t she cold, dressed like that?”
“Secrets of the deep,” the snowman said solemnly. “And now, will the two antagonists please take their places on the opposite sides of the ice rink?”
Max looked back at Eviane, then waved toward the sidelines.
“The object is to cause your opponent to lose his balance, while keeping your own. If you cause any part of his body except his foot to touch the ice, he is debited a point. If you lose your balance at the same time, no point, if you force him out of the ring, one point, if you both go, no points. The first to gain three points wins.
“Are there any questions?”
“What is illegal?”
The snowman grinned. “That can be decided by the two of you. We merely act as referees.”
Max and Hippogryph approached each other across the ice. Max’s boots didn’t grip the ice at all well. He wondered how Hippogryph liked it.
Max sized his opponent up. Hippogryph was four inches shorter, but almost as large across the shoulders. The man was disturbingly light-footed for his girth.
“No punching,” Max said.
“Agreed. Or kicking or poking.”
“Fine. Or any of that stuff.” Max paused. “How do you feel about slapping?”
“Fair enough,” Hippogryph said. “But not to the eyes, or face.”
Max studied him. Hippogryph had a secret. Dream Park Security training? Something else? Max had a secret too. He turned to the snowmen. “We haven’t started yet, have we?”
“Not until you return to the edge of the ring.”
“All right.” He extended his hand. He didn’t trust this guy. “Shake.”
Hippogryph’s gloved hands clasped his. Strong. Man knew gripping. Judo, maybe? Made sense: that, plus some standard police tactics, would cover any ordinary security situation.
Well, he was sure as hell going to find out in a hurry. He looked up at the sky. The aurora was rippling like a magic banner. Any minute now it might branch into a “Go, team” pennant.
It was warm for an arctic day at the end of the world. Max flexed his knees, felt and heard them crinkle-pop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eviane’s face, a pale oval partly bleached by snow glare. But he could still make out the expression, if “worshipful” was too strong a word, “admiring” was too weak.
They could sort it out later.
Hippogryph and Max faced off across the ice. Max shuffled forward, trying to keep his center of balance low. One false move and he would end up on the ground with Hippogryph. That wouldn’t do. What might do? He didn’t have enough traction for a lot of the techniques he knew, and this was just a friendly match . . .
Hippogryph body-checked him. Max felt strong arms reach up, wrap themselves around his neck, and torque him over. Suddenly he was in the air. He hit the ice hard, Hippogryph atop him. Max was more surprised than hurt, and thrashed for a moment before righting himself.
Hippogryph was grinning at him. “Man-mountain, eh?”
Max squinted up at the smaller man. “Does everybody in the world know that?”
“No point!” a snowman called.
Hippogryph came in low, and Max stiff-armed him. Hippogryph lost his balance, started to go down—grabbed Max’s arm as he went, curled his body, and Max was in the air again. Max hit the ice hard, but was up before his opponent.
“Hey! What’s going on here?”
“No point!” the snowman said.
Hippogryph was softening him up. These tactics wouldn’t win him any direct points, but they would slow Max down.
All right, then. Sauce for the goose . . .
He circled Hippogryph, who lunged, then pulled back, too fast. He lost traction on the ice, waved his arms, and—
Max wagged his finger, and waited. Playing a little possum, are we? He could wait.
On the sidelines, Eviane’s eyes were unblinkingly wide as she watched the action. One of Max’s hands was hanging out there, a little slow to react. Hippogryph lunged for it, and caught the wrist.
Max caught the catching hand, yanked, torqued sideways, and did a jumping scissors—left leg in front, right leg in the back—and twisted his hips clockwise. Both of them hit the ice, but poor Hippogryph was underneath.
Trianna screamed in sympathy. Next to her, Francis Hebert winced. “Goddamn.” Charlene looked first bewildered, then alarmed.
Girl still doesn’t understand gravity.
“No point.”
Hippogryph got back up, but some of the deviltry was out of his eye, and in its place was a little more respect. “For a clown, you move pretty good.”
Max grinned and glowed. He charged right at Hippogryph, and then pulled back as the smaller man dropped to hands and knees.
Max’s feet slid on the ice. He lost his balance, and wobbled wildly trying to save it. He couldn’t.
“Aw, shit!” he screeched, flopping back against the ice as Hippogryph stood up.
“Point!”
Max looked ruefully back at the crowd, and winced as they groaned.
Hippogryph was at him before he could finish getting up, and scythed his standing leg out from beneath him. “Arrgh!” Max screamed, and slammed into the ice again.
This time he stayed there for a minute, and glared up. Two points. Two points down, just like that. How embarrassing. Well. He was back up to his knees, and Hippogryph circled him.
He wobbled. Favored the left leg, and circled Hippogryph limping. Hippogryph grabbed one of his hands, whipped Max around until Max countergrabbed and stopped himself dead on the ice. The two men were frozen. Then Max inhaled powerfully, reached down between Hippogryph’s legs, and hoisted him completely off his feet and into the air, all two hundred and thirty pounds of him.
Then slammed him into the ice.
“Point!”
Hippogryph lay stunned, eyes unfocused, and started to get up. He thought better of it and stayed down. The two mermaids floated up to throw kisses at him through the ice.
Hippogryph stood up. They circled each other, Hippogryph more cautious now. He had learned something that he didn’t enjoy. Max slid a step forward, tried to steady himself, balanced on one foot—
And Hippogryph, unable to resist the opportunity, lunged in with a pushing hand.
Max spun, and banged bodies with him. He grabbed and threw, somersaulting in midair—
And landed back first, on top of Hippogryph. He felt the impact, heard the wind driven completely out of his opponent’s lungs.
Max carefully picked himself up. He had never touched the ice.
The snowman looked at him with an expression which could only have been incredulity. “Ah . . . point!”
Hippogryph stood. His face darkened poisonously, then cleared. He shook his head with regret. “Nice move,” he said. “We could have used you in Mexico City.”
Max laughed and extended a hand. Hippogryph snatched at it. Max calmly pulled his back, and watched Hippogryph’s feet dance on the ice as he fought desperately to regain balance.
Max leaned forward and pushed Hippogryph’s left shoulder with his forefinger. The smaller man’s feet flew out from underneath him, and he thundered into the ice.
The applause was even louder.
Max bent and untied the belt from his thigh, and turned back toward Eviane. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she stared at him, those beautiful green eyes as wide as saucers.
“My lady,” he said, holding the belt out. “I won this for you, and for you alone. It is to your pleasure, and in your name have I battled.”
He handed it to her, and she was still staring up at him, dazed. “And?”
“And . .
.” She was standing very close to him. Very. “And I claim my reward,” he said, and bent to kiss her. Her lips brushed his. Her eyes, so clear and bright, clouded. With no warning at all, she turned and ran.
The others laughed as she disappeared. But Max had seen something in that moment, a glimpse of a different person. He wasn’t sure who or what it was he had seen, but it was nothing to laugh at or about.
Leaving the others behind, he ran out after her.
Max stood in a gentle snowfall, peering through the white for the woman who had fled the recent battleground.
“Eviane!” He called her name, heard his voice echoed by the low whine of the wind, reflected from far mountains. There were more mountains visible now, dotting what had earlier seemed an endless plain.
They were just barely visible in the drifting snow, despite the crispness of the air and the comparative clarity.
“Ow!” A lightly packed snowball hit him in the side of the head, causing more surprise than dismay. He whipped around.
She smiled at him, then ran. Prototypical woman-reaction, and he loved it.
The storm swallowed them both.
She ran, not quite fast enough to stay ahead of him. At the end of those short, sturdy legs, her feet kicked up brief blizzards of Dream Park snow, tossed them back at him. The sound of her giggle was intoxicating.
She winded, he didn’t. Max caught her by the wrist and she laughed, grabbed his wrist, and turned her back into him, clumsily trying to throw him over her shoulder. Failing, she broke away again, finally plopping down into the snow beneath a small overhang on the outer wall of the ice cave.
He sat next to her. The ridge overlooked a frozen sea. It didn’t stretch out indefinitely, though. Fog clouded it up at the far end, an endlessly breaking wave of fog that rolled and hovered and seemed to want to stay just exactly where it was.
Eviane was breathing hard. One thing about being Mr. Mountain: for all of his bulk, he was actually in decent condition.
“I didn’t know you were such a fighter,” Eviane said.
Dream Park [2] The Barsoom Project Page 25