The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  “I recommend you both batten yourselves down for the next few days. There’s a storm coming, and you need to weather it. I won’t have you putting yourselves at needless risk for the greater good. Remember the rewards are great, but the path is hard. Should you survive, you will go onto thrive. We all will.”

  As the image of the Mistress vanished, Fuller swallowed. It sounded almost caring, yet at the same time, the words had betrayed her. If they died, they wouldn’t be able to put their parts of the plan into fruition. She knew that was all the Mistress cared about. It should have hurt. It didn’t. She’d long since come to realise the way of the world. And apparently her way was whoring herself out to Ronald Ritellia now. Strangely enough, that didn’t bother her as much as she’d thought.

  The three had started their exodus almost to the second the call had ended; already out the door leaving her alone with Rocastle. She sighed, finally exhaling the breath she’d been holding for the last few seconds. “Well that could have gone worse.”

  Rocastle didn’t acknowledge her, instead crossing over to the window to look out, creasing his brow as he stared across the island into the distant horizon. “I wonder what she meant,” he mused. “A storm is coming? I know the Mistress has talents, but meteorology is one I’d never have guessed at.”

  “Guess we’ll find out in the fullness of time,” Fuller said. “Do you really want to doubt her?”

  Rocastle scoffed. “We’re in the hottest kingdom of all at the hottest time of year. We’re not going to get bad weather.” He pointed out the window. “Not a damn cloud in the sky.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “That our boss isn’t infallible,” he said simply. “Just flesh and blood like everyone else.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen! I give you Peter Jacobs!”

  Whatever else the announcer might have to say was drowned out by the crowd as he jogged out onto the field. Not all of them would be cheering for him, but hopefully the main ones he cared about, Scott and Sharon would be. Despite what she’d said, he hoped Sharon would want him to win here. After all, he was her brother.

  Okay, she might not want me to win when I fight her. But here, there’s no reason she couldn’t lend me some support. I’d have done it for her if I hadn’t been prepping. Sharon had won her earlier bout; he’d have gone if it hadn’t been across the other side of the island.

  She’ll be here, he told himself as he saw Reda Ulikku striding purposefully onto the opposite side of the stone field. He thought to what he knew of the other caller, compared it against what he saw ahead. The files he’d looked at after Sharon’s nudging had given Ulikku’s gender as male despite what Sharon had said. Maybe she didn’t know. You wouldn’t be able to tell. Every defining trait looked to have been deliberately distorted beyond recognition, wasn’t feminine, but neither was it masculine.

  Androgyny. Just what he’d expect from a damn spirit dancer, all of them nuttier than squirrel shit and not half as much use. By the looks of it, Ulikku was a Varykian. Half Vazaran, half Burykian, his skin a mix of the ebony of Vazara and the murky olive-yellow of Burykia. His hair was teased back into a ponytail, Pete was certain he was wearing makeup.

  He assumed that was what Sharon had been teasing him with. Ulikku was skilled in both disciplines, an adept at both calling and dancing. Fighting and titillating. That was what he had to overcome. If he could, it’d be a big step to the next round. There was nothing in his mind that told him he couldn’t win. Triumph and immortality would beckon. If he couldn’t beat some freak like this, he didn’t deserve victory. Before Sharon had brought him up, he’d never heard of Ulikku. While there were probably better callers he hadn’t heard of, he was sure if someone was good, their reputation would precede them.

  Already the announcer and the video referee were going through the outlines of the bout; Pete let himself phase it out as he made his choices. He’d heard it all before and had more on his mind. Start the way he intended to finish. Go strong and fast, hope it was enough.

  The flash of light erupted in front of him and he saw Ulikku’s first spirit, a Vazaran wild rabbit that quickly rose onto its hind legs to reveal a belly spotted with white against brown-black fur. It gave a little twirl, a motion bringing oohs and aahs from some sections of the crowd and a stab of irritation into Pete’s mood. It just looked so false it was unreal. He glanced at it to see if he could get any read on its abilities. Face looked normal for a rabbit, the ears were huge, easily three or four times normal size and hanging down its face like giant bangs of hair. He’d never quite seen claws as large on any domestic rabbit though, they looked more like eagle talons.

  Hmmm, Pete pursed his lips thoughtfully before bringing out Mermari to start the bout, the lake lynx letting out a little yawn as she stretched her limbs in the glare of the sun. Somewhere amidst the noise and the atmosphere of the stadium, he heard the video referee giving them the all clear and he made his choices.

  Some might have questioned the wisdom of unleashing ice-based attacks in a hot environment, but Pete hadn’t been born yesterday. He’d done his research, tried to work out how the attacks would be diminished by the sun throughout the day and he figured he had the numbers right Maybe it was why Ulikku looked so unconcerned as the first blast of ice spread towards his spirit. Or it might have been the way the same spirit gracefully leaped over it on those well-developed hind legs, coming to a graceful landing out the way. Pete rolled his eyes as he saw it strike another pose upon landing, appealing once more to the crowd. Its ears bobbed, nose twitched as if it were amused by the whole thing.

  He couldn’t lose his cool. Some part of him guessed Ulikku might be doing it to try and get under his guard. It was a typical bloody dancer trick when they were fighting callers. All that stuff had no place in battling, it would infuriate any quick-tempered opponent.

  Pete was determined not to be that opponent. Agility and belligerence, those were the two traits the enemy had. So how to play it? He glanced first to Mermari, then to the rabbit.

  Charge it!

  It took a fraction of a second for the order to be processed before she moved, claws outstretched as she lunged towards the opponent, ready to land some raking cuts. It was a good strategy, Pete thought, only to watch as the rabbit pirouette out of the way, to keep watching as Mermari sailed past, her claws meeting empty air. A chant of “olé” echoed from the crowd, one of the giant ears slapping into Mermari’s back with a resounding crack, he heard the screech of pain erupt from the ice cat’s mouth as she was sent skidding across the stony ground into an untidy heap.

  “Good, Paz,” Ulikku said, his voice low and quiet amidst the roars of the crowd. They’d seen first blood, working themselves into a frenzy at the sight. Pete winced as Mermari jumped to her feet, a little unsteady but ready to keep on fighting.

  Okay, so ranged and close attacks hadn’t really worked. He needed another strategy.

  Paz took off at a run towards Mermari, Pete jerked back into awareness, broken from his thoughts. Even as he gave the command to counterattack, the rabbit broke into zig-zags, neatly evading every oncoming ice blast.

  Crap!

  Pete clenched his fists together, nails digging into his palm as Mermari let loose one more stream of ice at point blank range with what should have been fatal intensity. Even then, Paz found some burst of speed to evade it, Pete fought the urge to swear loudly as it ducked down under the blast, struck upwards to send Mermari crashing into the air.

  It didn’t stop there, springing after her to deal a flurry of punches into the defenceless lake lynx, yowls and howls crying out amidst the sounds of flesh breaking flesh. Suffice to say Mermari landed worse, crashing to a heap as Paz shot her a dismissive look over its shoulder. Silently Pete urged her to get up while at the same time dozens of strategies went through his head to ultimately be rejected. All of them depended on landing a hit which Mermari so far had been unable to.

  Unless…

  He glanced at the battlefield
and then again at the sky, a fresh outline forming of something that might just work. Maybe. Possibly! If they could get right, it might just give him an opening he needed. He nodded, smiled and folded his arms as he relayed silently to Mermari what he needed her to do.

  He wondered what thoughts went through Ulikku’s head as Mermari sent a burst of ice at Paz, another graceful spin leaving it striking empty air. Even as Paz was in motion, Mermari charged towards the rabbit, leaping into the air at the last moment with claws out. Pete saw Paz make to spin aside again and he felt a great surge of triumph rush through him.

  The claws never landed, instead another streak of ice hit the ground at Paz’s feet, all traction lost as the rabbit suddenly found itself unable to keep footing. It slipped, landed on its knees and Mermari went in hard and high, slashing at the face and the throat with all the vigour of one who’d spent the last several minutes being humiliated.

  Pete felt something wet strike his face. In confusion, he rubbed against it, not quite sure what to expect. It wasn’t blood, which had been his first thought. Wet, cold, clear…

  Another struck him. And another. And another.

  Rain? Huh?

  It had been sweltering hot this morning, all the way to the pre-match walk down here to now. He’d even looked at the forecasts earlier, just to see if there were any surprises in store, had found the weather was as expected. Hot. Humid. Not a cloud in the sky.

  Nothing. But now, it was raining, coming down hard and fast within moments. Soon he was soaked to the skin, a look of surprise on his face, mirrored in the expressions of every man, woman and child around the stadium.

  Max Brudel had seen the woman leave; he’d resisted the urge to talk to her. Sure, she was pretty, but he felt something cold about her which held his tongue. He’d seen women like her before. They thought they were better than everyone else and weren’t shy about letting you know it. In his experience, all they needed was one good fuck and the demeanour soon faded.

  Still, it wasn’t something to worry about now. He had his report to deliver and he wasn’t about to keep Mr R waiting. He strode to the door, hesitated only for a moment before knocking. A few seconds passed, he found himself hoping he didn’t have to do it now, only for his hopes to be smashed. The door opened, Mr R peered out and dragged him in by the lapels of his jacket.

  “Good,” he said. “Right on time.” He looked a little rattled, stressed even, more so than he’d seen before. “Sit down, take a seat.”

  Max did so, sinking into one of the chairs. Mr R wandered over to the middle of the room, started to clear away a holoprojector, an expensive model by the looks of it. Max could appreciate the value of it. Those things were hard to come by. Only the rich had them. Either Mr R was well off or he was being backed by people who were.

  “You have something for me?” he said. “I’ve given you the time to come up with the information. What do you have?”

  Max took a deep breath. “The girl you asked me to follow… Mia Arnholt…”

  The use of the name brought a reaction he hadn’t expected out of Mr R, his eyes lit up with fury and he spat on the carpet with a vehemence Max hadn’t expected. “Yes, Mia fucking Arnholt, carry on! I suppose you’d have found her name out sooner or later if you were doing your job properly. Carry on.”

  A little unnerved, Max did so regardless, clearing his throat to give him a second of composure. “Okay, so she has her brother and her father here, she went for dinner with them at Willie’s the first night, since then she’s alternated where she eats, went to that sandwich place the second night, the Burykian joint the third night, went back to Willie’s the night after that… If you’re wanting to grab her, I wouldn’t recommend doing it there.”

  “I’ll take your advice under consideration, don’t assume you know what I want to do,” Mr R said coldly. “Keep it to the facts, I’ll ask for your opinion. Do you know where she’s staying while she’s here?”

  “The Sunny Beach,” Max said. “I watched her go in there a few times. Other times I observed the floor she went to. Third. Finally, I found her room by lurking in a stolen uniform. Three twenty-four.”

  Mr R looked impressed; he clasped his hands together in glee and made an excited sound before moving across to the teapot. Max watched as he poured water, set it to boil. “Oh bravo, honey. Now tell me, other than her brother and father, did she meet with anyone else?”

  “Well,” Max said. “There was a guy the other night?”

  “Oh! The little hussy! Do tell.”

  “Not like that,” Max quickly added, the look on Mr R’s face was enough to turn his stomach, ghoulish in its sudden change. “There was a guy on the plaza, she insisted her brother introduce her to. She looked interested. Even though there might be a problem.”

  His benefactor raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

  He’d been about to; it didn’t feel like a good idea to say though. “He already has a loose cannon girlfriend, pretty angry by the looks of it. Looked like she wanted to rip Mi… Your girl’s head off.”

  “Don’t ever call her my girl,” Mr R said. “Not if you enjoy having genitals. I’m not happy about being in the same gene pool as her.” He stroked his chin, paced as the teapot finished heating. “I see. You’ve done well. Keep an eye out. I want you to stay in touch, if you ever see her going anywhere; I want you to make notes of it. I want correlations of where she goes, I want confirmations.”

  “Gotcha,” Max said. “Anything else?”

  “Nothing you can provide,” Mr R said. “But since you ask. Lacerations.”

  “Lacerations?”

  “Oh yes,” he smiled, a grotesque curve of the mouth twisting Max’s stomach into knots. “I’m going to bleed the little bitch slowly. More than that, I’m going to enjoy it.”

  Chapter Seventeen. Stormrunners.

  “Monsoons in Vazara. They don’t hit often, but they hit bloody hard. The most destructive force of nature you can ever imagine, as deadly as they are unpredictable. You can’t completely plan for it, all you can do to try survive it.”

  Brendan King in a lecture on personal safety and survival against the elements.

  The twenty fifth day of Summerdawn.

  Still the rain came down hard, cold sleet pounding the stadium as the battle raged beneath the onyx black sky, Eight Eyes the giant spider skittering away from the sputtering flames thrown towards it by a struggling fire beast. Theo smiled coolly, his grin matching the frigid weather, arms folded. Unless he was mistaken, he had Arnholt the younger on the ropes.

  Stupid little bastard was out of his depths. He might have had a father who was a city champion and a sister on the way up in the spirit dancing world, however pathetic that notion felt to him, but it appeared the talent standing against him right now was minimal at best. He ignored the way the skies seemed eager to open and drown them all, stood there despite the chill threatening to rush through his skin. If it was bad for him, it’d be worse for his opponent stood there in shorts.

  Theo didn’t know what animal the spirit was Matt had chosen to use against him, he didn’t care. All he knew was it was struggling in the downpour. That and the conjunction of the battlefield layout meant his options were limited. They’d been chosen to battle on a field that might once have been a huge swimming pool, seven large floating platforms anchored to the bottom to provide a stable base. Eight Eyes was Theo’s second spirit and still in good shape. The fire spirit looked like some sort of ape but there were too many discrepancies, the spikes and the scales and the large pointed ears, Pyro, was Matt’s third. If the rest of the group was this poor, he’d be in for a very quick road to the top.

  It wouldn’t be though. He smirked, gave Eight Eyes the order to rush the thing, hit and run to wear it down before they got in close to apply the final blow. Wind and rain and water aside, it still wouldn’t do to take chances. Those flames could still do some damage. Water sloshed about his feet soaking his boots, he glanced down at the surface of the pool a
nd noticed it was already overflowing. The rain had been coming down heavy for a while now.

  He kicked listlessly at the liquid, felt it splash over his shoes before dragging his attention back to the bout. If Eight Eyes could force Pyro into the pool, it’d be open season. Water trumped fire every time, it’d be unable to attack effectively, and he’d sacrifice Eight Eyes in the pool if it meant it took that damn monkey-thing down. The spider cut in, weaved aside and smacked its two front legs into Pyro, leaving several deep gouges across the spirit’s back, blood dripped down the scales and Theo smirked to himself. Good. Good. Nearly. Nearly…

  The clarion of the horn burst through his amusement, snatching the smirk from his face as a voice clawed through the sounds of the stadium. “Ladies and gentlemen and competitors. Please make your way to the exits in an orderly fashion. Due to the extreme changes in weather, we have no choice but to declare the bout temporarily postponed for safety reasons concerning the battlefield. Can the competitors please return to their locker rooms please?”

  Theo swore loudly, gave the video referee a violent look. It fell on a blank screen; it didn’t look like they’d made it waterproof enough to survive the downpour. Anything heavy to hand and he’d have thrown it. Matt looked more than happy at the sudden turn of fortune for him, he’d recalled his spirit to its crystal and already made his way off as Theo stood there seething. With little other option, he brought back Eight Eyes and stormed off, his face black with anger. If anyone stood in his way on the way out, there’d be trouble. He wasn’t having this. He wrapped his rage around him, strode down the tunnel, steps slippery beneath his feet. He’d weather it out in the locker room. At least it was damn dry down here.