The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

No hug for me… He was tempted to bring it up, quickly realised that it’d cause more trouble than the joke would be worth. Not just with Jess, but he didn’t know how Sharon’d take it either. Last thing he wanted was them both pissed at him.

  “I could say the same about you,” Pete said. “Thought you were semi-retired these days?”

  “Nobody ever truly retires from spirit calling, darling.” Pete blanched at that. They’d shared the same mother, different fathers if Scott remembered right. There was something in the way of family resemblance between them. Perhaps the way they held themselves. That air of natural confidence and superiority that Jess found so annoying in Pete. He hid a grin. If Sharon was as argumentative, Jess was going to enjoy this even less than she’d enjoyed giving that apology.

  “Don’t call me that, it reminds me of mom,” Pete said. “And that’s just creepy.”

  She grinned at him. “Grow up, Petey.” Scott got the impression she was doing it deliberately now just to annoy her little brother. “Anyway, spirit calling’s like riding a hover bike. You’ll always know how to do it and it doesn’t take long to get back in the saddle.”

  “Aww, well I’m glad you’re here,” Pete said. “I thought I’d just have to walk over the defeated spirits of my friends and complete strangers to rise to the top. Never expected I’d have to do it with family as well.” He shot her a grin. Sharon rolled her eyes in a gesture very similar to one Scott had seen his friend do many times.

  “In your dreams, Pee. You wouldn’t last ten seconds.”

  “That’s what his last girlfriend said,” Jess muttered in Scott’s ear. He resisted the urge to laugh; privately he hoped Pete hadn’t heard. Last thing he wanted was another argument between them. It’d just embarrass everyone. The crowd had already decided the entertainment was over, and it wasn’t worth sticking around. He didn’t want them showing up for the encore.

  Now he looked again, it did look like it was dying down a little. That was good. They might be able to get out of here soon.

  “But enough of the trash talk by the way,” Sharon said suddenly, reaching out and squeezing her brother’s elbow. “I need you to come with me later. There’s someone I want you to meet.” She raised a finger to emphasise the golden band nestled against her skin, six brilliant diamonds set into the metal, equal distance from each other. Pete stopped suddenly, so did Jesseka. If he looked surprised, she looked amused at his reaction. Scott gulped. He hadn’t known Sharon was getting married. Good job he hadn’t asked for the hug. It would probably have gone down innocently enough, but if her fiancé was the jealous type…

  “Yeah…” Pete said, suddenly subdued. “That. I wondered about that. Mainly when was I going to meet the guy who wants to put up with you for the rest of his life? Because I know he’s a braver man than me. I didn’t have a choice when we were kids.”

  Both Scott and Jess laughed. Sharon flicked her brother on the forehead playfully. He protested and ducked away, rubbing at the reddening area. “No need for that. Besides, you think I enjoy it any more than you do?”

  “Congratulations,” Jess said. “That ring is gorgeous. Must have cost a fortune.”

  “Bet it did,” Pete offered. “I mean, you wouldn’t let anyone buy you shit, would you? Looks a good imitation, I’ll…” He saw the look Sharon was giving him, quickly shut up. “Yeah, it’s nice, sis. I’m happy for you. And your guy. Sure, I’ll come meet him with you later. I want to meet my future brother in law. Hope he’s a cool guy.”

  “What do you take me for?” Sharon smiled, mock indignant. “He’s absolutely a great guy. Although I’m a little surprised you’re taking it so well.”

  “Why?” Pete looked genuinely confused at her comment, shrugging his shoulders in bemusement.

  “Because when I marry him, you’ll be bumped down to third best caller in the family.” She winked at him. Pete rolled his eyes. “Fifth actually, if you include mom and John.”

  “Or…” he retorted. “The other way of looking at it is you’re going into his family. Meaning I go up to number one in this family. So yeah. I’m number one. Woo! Number one!”

  “Has he always been like this?” Jess asked, looking at Sharon with interest as Pete pumped his arm over-enthusiastically. “Or did he get a bang on the head or something and not been the same since?”

  “I can honestly say he hasn’t changed,” Sharon smiled. “Meh, I couldn’t ask for a different brother. Because this one drives me insane and two of them would be twice as irritating.”

  That brought a laugh out of Jesseka as she saw the look on Pete’s face at the comment. He folded his arms in a huff and picked up his bag, quickly strapping it on over his shoulder with one swift motion.

  “Well if there’s going to be nothing else but insults today,” he said. “Think I’m going to go find my hotel. Sharon, I’ll see you later. Want to get changed and showered first. Don’t want your fiancé to think he’s marrying into a family with a scruffy bastard in it. And her brother.” He walked off laughing loudly, forcing his way back into the dwindling crowd within moments. He very quickly fell out of sight shortly after.

  “He always had to have the last word,” Sharon said, shaking her head. “And he’s gotten a lot more foul-mouthed since I saw him last.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably my bad as much as his,” Scott said. “When you’re out on the road in the middle of nowhere and you trip over something or stub your toe or something, then sometimes it’s easy to start swearing loud. Habit.”

  She smiled, her face etched with wistful sadness. “I remember those days. Just you and the open road. The endless possibilities for adventure and danger. There’s nothing quite like them. Those days are the building blocks for your future, I always thought. There are plenty of challenges be it wild animals, lack of food or finding the next town. If you can topple those, then you can conquer anything.”

  He had nothing to add to that. Neither it appeared, did Jess.

  “And how are you, Scott?” she asked. “You look like you’re keeping well. How’s Palawi doing? Still lively?”

  “I’m good,” he replied. “And Palawi is good. Everything’s good. I even got Sangare under control since I last saw you.”

  “Well you needed to.” Sharon’s friendly demeanour suddenly vanished. “That beast was out of control. I did wonder about the implications of your keeping hold of it, should you not be able to rein it in.”

  “Lot can change in a year or so,” Scott said. “I’m a lot stronger now.” He still had memories of the last time he and Pete had encountered Sharon. That had been in the days pre-him-and-Jess. They’d been competing in a tournament in Wakely, Canterage, the kingdom champion had just happened by that day. And his guest, the champion from Serran. He’d knocked Pete out to claim what would have been the victory. And then she’d stepped in to challenge the winner.

  He hadn’t known she was Pete’s sister then, they’d fought, and he’d been absolutely demolished in record time. He’d unleashed his entire collection of spirits at her, one after another and all of them had fallen between the opening one she’d set against him. A watching Pete had gone hysterical with laughter and Scott hadn’t understood why until it had been explained to him.

  He’d still gotten the trophy for winning the tournament, but he’d never held it in pride of place at home. It always felt sullied for that one bout following the presentation where she’d done the spirit calling equivalent of bending him over.

  “I expect you would be,” Sharon said. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Good luck, Scott.”

  “You too.” He didn’t really mean it, but you had to be polite to your best friend’s sister. It was like an unwritten rule. “Even if it was a wild card.”

  “He doesn’t need luck,” Jess said loudly. “He’s got skill.”

  “I’m sure he has,” Sharon replied, a cool smile playing across her features. “Unfortunately, so does everyone else here. Wild card doesn’t automatically mean loser, Scott, rememb
er that. It’s all about what you do with the chance.”

  “Well then he’s got me cheering for him. Nobody else here has that!”

  Not for the first time, Scott decided he was never going to understand Jess. Not that he didn’t want to. But there had to be a better way of describing her than a probably schizophrenic unpredictable chaotic bitch who happened to sometimes give the impression that she loved him. Maybe she really did. It hurt his head thinking about it. And if she ever heard that description of her, his head really would hurt for real. Or maybe she didn’t like Sharon and was doing her best to score points off her.

  Everyone was arriving now, and he was getting impatient. She had to be coming here, she had to be, all boat parties converging past this point. He’d been reliably informed, was going to be pissed if he had to go and take some revenge on the soon to be defunct intelligence source. He leaned forward in his seat and peered through his designer sunglasses towards the crowds coming up from the docks. He’d seated himself well, right inside the Tuál café on the peak, out on the veranda with a large colourful drink in front of him that tasted more of fruit than alcohol. The tang of it was not unwelcome in the dry heat. Already he was covered in sweat, sticky and hot made an unwelcome combination in his experience.

  There were many ports on the island, rather than stake out one of them, he’d chosen to perch himself out here and remain until he glimpsed his target. The roads from four of the five docks intersected not too far from here so the chances were a lot better than average that he’d spot her.

  Still, always a chance that it’d fail. He tapped his foot impatiently, suddenly hating the odds. They’d conspire against him, it was inevitable. With unsteady hands he reached into the case and brought out a smoke, tearing off the tab at the end to activate the chemical reaction that set it alight. He was greeted with the brief scent of sulphur before the end glowed orange. He put it in his mouth and inhaled, letting the rough smoke brush through into his lungs.

  Nope, nope, nope, not her, is that… no it isn’t her?

  He let out an impatient sigh, leaned back in his chair and glanced up at the sky. Looking at that crowd of people was starting to make him feel seasick. Just too many people, despite their differences, they were starting to blend into one colourless, shapeless mass of flesh. Another inhalation. The smoke was calming, it soothed his vengeful heart, relaxing the tenseness in his shoulders. He wanted a little more, he knew he needed to be patient. So much of the world was about waiting. Oh, for a world where good things came to those who didn’t wait. He studied a fingernail, grimaced.

  Oh dear, oh dear.

  Come on, where was she?

  Another ten minutes passed. The crowds coming from the docks were starting to thin out now, fewer and fewer new faces appearing amidst their number. He sighed. Maybe he’d missed her when the crowds had been at their thickest. Maybe he was in the wrong place completely. Either way, it looked like this was a massive bust. He sucked at the straw in his drink petulantly, resisting the urge to hurl it to the ground and watch it shatter into a million tiny pieces. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. It wouldn’t make her magically appear. She had to be on the island. He’d heard her brother was here. He’d even heard her father was coming out. Their relationship was strained, she’d mentioned that to him once upon a long time ago, but that was irrelevant.

  Probably explains the little bitch! Daddy issues. He didn’t love her enough and now she gets off on being a nasty little slut, cock tease whore, shake her ass and get her way. Be doing the world a favour when I get hold of her.

  He sighed, exhaled sharply, subconsciously cracked his knuckles in anticipation. Dwelling on thoughts like this didn’t do him any favours. It was hard to hide his mask of neutrality when he got too excited. And that thought was infinitely more exciting than most, made him hard just thinking about what he would do to her when he got his hands around her neck.

  Of course, he needed to find her before he could do anything. While it wasn’t a large island, the population had suddenly become denser than it had before. Meaning it’d be hard to gain an exact position for her. More than that, he needed to know everything about her. Everything to become the hunter and ensure of the kill.

  Yet, in addition to his other duties, it’d be difficult to do all that. He needed to try something else. Maybe get some help in. Yet who to trust with it. And how exactly did you find someone like that? Someone desperate but skilled. Someone with nothing to lose but everything to gain. Hmmm…

  He leaned forward in his seat and rested his chin on his palm, considering his options silently.

  Chapter Eleven. Partners.

  “Upon arrival in our resort, please contact one of our ICCC representatives to find your hotel. We know you’re going to be satisfied with what has been built for your entertainment and enjoyment. In the last year, over a thousand full time staff and twice as many volunteers have been selected and trained to ensure your tournament runs as smoothly as possible. However please be aware that there may be some initial unforeseen rough patches.”

  ICCC directive issued to competitors upon procurement of travel documents and competitor passes.

  The fourteenth day of Summerdawn.

  It wasn’t often Nick Roper cursed his own actions but now he felt it justified. Hurrying up the path from the docks, he silently berated himself for what had gone on back on the ship. In hindsight, he’d been reckless. In hindsight he’d acted like a complete idiot and although nobody else would probably think twice about it, he couldn’t let himself forget it. Sure, the kid had been a snappy little shite who nobody would probably feel bad for, but it wasn’t the point, no matter how much it might even do him good in the long term. A lot of people who did what he did used the behaviour as a mask, hid behind it, drawing attention from anything else they might be up to.

  He’d learn from it and move on. Or he’d hold a grudge and redouble his own efforts. Either way, he’d put a target on his own back. And nobody wanted that, least of all him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  All this time and the red mist still fell. It was more than stupid; it had the potential to be lethal. Don’t think, lose control, make bad mistakes. He’d thought he’d long since gotten it all out of his system. Still it had felt good, he’d needed to blow off some steam and it had been well and truly blown.

  He drew a deep breath, fought the urge to mop his forehead. He’d expected Carcaradis Island to be hot. He’d been in Vazara before this time of year. He couldn’t remember it ever being this humid. It was sapping heat, one that tugged at his limbs, demanded his attention. Already the water in his hip flask was warming, the rising temperature killing what little flavour it possessed. Still it was wet, he swirled it around his mouth, savoured it before replacing it in the pocket of his shorts. He noted the damp patch already spreading around the area where the rim of the lid met the material. It’d dry soon in this temperature. No point stressing out. No doubt there would be ample opportunities to worry soon; he wasn’t going to add to the list.

  The crowds were thinning now; he’d lingered in leaving the boat, not entirely by choice. Some people had wanted words with him about the damage to the floor following said bout with that annoying little shit who’d stormed off in a massive huff following his defeat. Although he’d managed to argue his way out of paying for it, he still had the strange feeling he might be flying home, because he doubted he’d be welcome on a Wave Crest boat ever again. It hurt knowing you’d effectively been forbidden from doing something, but he was sure he’d get over it.

  Either way, that was the past and the future was just a short walk ahead. He wasn’t upset by his detainment; he’d found himself wanting to savour some of the scenery around as he walked the path to the resort area. Last thing he particularly wanted to happen was be punted along by a group of people trying to get there in record time. Mark had gone on ahead. Wade had made comments about having elsewhere to be and flown off on one of his dragons, the sight of the beast drawing comments
from people who should really know better. Seeing them WAS getting rarer in the wild, but there were still those who used them in calling. It wasn’t an unusual thing.

  Still, Wade’s dragons were an impressive sight. Even the smallest of them were larger than most, powerfully ferocious in a fight, almost impervious to all but the strongest of attacks. He remembered the first time he’d fought him. He’d almost pissed himself, not knowing what was about to come. The one and only time in his career.

  Either way, he was alone but for a few stragglers. He’d been curious about the island, not least in why the tournament was being held here, but the guidebook had been surprisingly sparse on the subject. Given it had only really come to prominence in the build up to this tournament, he couldn’t be too surprised. A lot of the stuff felt like filler as to the sights here. Oh look, odd rock formations. Beware the killer natives, they’ll probably try to eat you. It was probably out of date now anyway. Now that Reims had built their resort, there was more than likely going to be a whole raft of new pages devoted to the place. Besides, he’d been here all of ten minutes and hadn’t seen one killer native. That alone counted as a plus.

  While here, best to make the most of it all, he thought. Not like I’m probably going to get back here on my own credits. He’d seen a provisional price list for a stay here when the Quin-C finished. His eyes were still watering at the sight. He’d taken the top prize at six big tournaments in the last two years and he might be able to afford a weekend in a cabin on the beach with no running water, bathroom facilities or any other amenities.

  Still, on first impressions, Carcaradis Island wasn’t an unpleasant place. He could hear the chirp of seabirds nestled in the cliffs towards the left of the dock, the entire coastline of the island undulating upwards. If he gazed long enough, he was certain he could make out tiny specks of white and grey amidst the rock. It wasn’t a sound he recognised.

  A new species? Probably not. Chances were some hopeful would already have tried to claim one before the week was out. Even if they were small, that was no indication of potential. After all, he had some experience with what a little genetic experimentation could wreak with even the most unlikely of creatures, both personal and second-hand. After so long, it became second nature. Sometimes he even found himself glancing at wildlife on his travels, thinking about potential improvements that could be wrought upon the unsuspecting creature.