The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  Above him, he heard the crackle of thunder in the sky, rolled his eyes. He told himself the shudder was from the cold. He didn’t want to think back to that night in Canterage on the road in that forest. He’d all but put it out of his mind. So why was it clamouring for his attention once against? Those memories weren’t something he could ignore forever on a night like this.

  Up in the stands, Scott had found himself soaked long since. Had he not wanted to see Matt’s bout, he’d have left already for somewhere warmer, the irony he’d been complaining about the heat the previous day not lost on him. He hated irony. Still, the chance to get out of here was welcome. When the rain had intensified, there had been those who’d already left but not many.

  Still it left him and Pete having to negotiate their way through dwindling crowds across slippery stairways. More than once he nearly slipped, having to grab something to steady himself. Meanwhile Pete wasn’t turning out to be much help, still sulking after the outcome of his bout earlier. Scott was sure he hadn’t said anything since he’d made his way off the battlefield, despite numerous attempts to draw him into conversation.

  “Oh dear,” he said, pushing his way down towards the exit. “Where’s all this coming from?! I mean we’re in the tropics. Shouldn’t be getting rain here.”

  Pete said nothing, just shoved his way past people with a little more vigour than he might have exercised before. Someone rounded on him, looked like they wanted to say something, saw the look on his face and decided against it.

  “Are you going to be like this for the rest of the day?” Scott asked. “You’ve been intolerable ever since that bout. I want you back, so I can take the piss. I do it now; you look like you might hit me.”

  Still his friend said nothing as they reached the exits, noting the way they were crammed with people all trying to get out before the weather got worse, and started the process of squeezing themselves out. Scott caught an elbow in the back, swore violently and resisted the urge to push back. Something told him that getting into a struggle here would be a very stupid thing to do. With everyone cold, wet and annoyed, the mood was turning ugly and all it’d take to spark it off would be someone doing something stupid. Well, for once, it wasn’t going to be him. He’d probably leave the honour to Pete, the mood he was in.

  “Wonder what they’re going to do,” he said, as conversationally as he could manage given he almost had his face pressed against the broad back of someone speaking Burykian. “Replay it when the rain stops in a different stadium?”

  Pete shrugged, almost catching the person behind him in the nose with a shoulder, a gesture which wholeheartedly said I don’t really give a shit. Scott turned away, rolling his eyes and continued the slow journey towards the turnstiles. The rest of the day was going to be fun.

  “If you’re not going to make the effort, I’m not going to bother either,” he muttered, struggling against the crowd, the sheer denseness starting to get to him.

  Not that he’d expected it to be anything else, but the weather was just as ferociously vociferous in the streets outside the stadium, rain lashing unimpeded onto the faces and bodies of those who strode below it. Idly he found himself wondering where Jess was amidst all this and if she’d found shelter. She didn’t like the cold. Next to him, Pete had tugged a hooded shirt out of his bag, pulled it on over his regular shirt, yanking the hood over his hair. It was soaked within minutes, but still had the benefit of keeping the rain from his face.

  “Oh, ha-ha,” Scott said angrily. “You might have planned ahead for that, but it didn’t do you much good earlier, did it?”

  If it was going to get a reaction, it didn’t get the one he hoped for. Pete ignored him, stuck his hands in his pockets and took off at a quick pace, soon leaving him behind. “Hey, wait up!” he yelled, suddenly annoyed. Pete really must be hurting. Nobody liked to lose but it hadn’t been pretty viewing in the remainder of his bout with that strange Ulikku. That rabbit and Mermari had fought each other to a draw but it had been about Pete’s high point of the bout. His remaining two spirits had suffered in the same way Mermari had, only without the chance to make the same comeback. Scott had to admit, Ulikku had been mercilessly tough, he could rib Pete all he wanted but he doubted under the same circumstances he’d have been able to get a win in that bout. He made a mental note to try and get to the one between Ulikku and Sharon, recognised it should be a bout worth watching.

  Rain lashed his face, he found himself drifting deep into his thoughts until he heard a voice cutting through the sounds of the downpour hitting the ground, great puddles forming in the grooves of the paths.

  “Scott!”

  He turned in the direction of the yell, saw Matt, Mia and their father rushing over, all soaked to the skin, neither looking happy at the sudden turn in events. It was the first time Scott had ever seen Terrence Arnholt up close and he was impressed by the sheer gravitas that the man seemed to generate, even given the circumstances.

  “Matt,” he said. “Unlucky having it called off.” He was being tactful, given the way Theo had battered him, at least he hadn’t lost yet. If they did replay it, there was no way Matt could be that bad again. If he was upset at having to have a rematch, he didn’t show it. He looked in better spirits than his father. Or Mia who, despite giving him a small smile, looked wet, miserable and thoroughly pissed off. If he’d had a coat, he’d have given it to her there and then. At least, under the proviso that Jess would never ever find out about it. She really hadn’t dressed for this sort of weather. “Mia,” he said politely, returning her smile. Hers only grew as her eyes met his and he felt a little uncomfortable as he realised.

  “Meh, this stuff happens,” Matt said, surprisingly cheerful. “Scott, this is my dad…”

  “Terrence Arnholt, I know of him,” Scott said. “It’s an honour, sir.” He quickly shook Arnholt’s hand, tried to avoid wincing at the firm grip. Not that he’d expected anything less, the man looked like he could crush steel with his bare hands.

  “Save the discussion for later,” Arnholt said. “We should get inside before we all catch a chill. Head for the hotels, that’s where they’re telling people to go.”

  “Gotcha,” Scott said. Made sense at least. He stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to return some feeling to the numbness drifting through them and followed the trio. The streets weren’t empty, but he’d seen them busier, though the vendors and performers from earlier had vanished, apparently possessed with more sense than to stick around.

  Scott’s hotel wasn’t far, by the looks of it, the Arnholt family were heading to the same one. A rousing coincidence, he found a grin flashing onto his face as he wondered what Jess might say if she found Mia was staying in the same building as him. Probably nothing complimentary. And while he might grin, it wouldn’t be funny if the discussion happened.

  He wasn’t going to relate that fact to her. If she was going to find out about it, she could do it from someone else. Ignorance would be his ally in this situation.

  Upon staggering into the lobby of the hotel, Scott realised he’d misunderstood the use of the word bliss for a very long time. Someone had jacked the heaters up to full power, was like stepping into a sauna, a warm welcoming hot room that felt like the tender embrace of a long-lost love. He wandered to the middle of the room and let it wash over him, not the only one enjoying it by the looks of it. Dozens of other people lingered about the lobby, a running mix of emotions heavy in the air from confusion to anger to dismay and outrage. With his eyes closed, he could hear some of the comments coming out from the various discussions going on.

  “… Outrageous, just outrageous that we have to suffer this…”

  “… Can’t even get the weather right here…”

  “… Poor guys having to replay that bout…”

  “… How many we reckon are going to get injured in this then?”

  “… Should have seen it coming…”

  “… I blame Vazara. What a huge fucking cock up holding it
here…”

  “… And Ritellia’s a bastard as well…”

  None of it was particularly interesting, he had to admit. Funny how some people could always find something to complain about. He turned, stretched and looked at Matt and his father.

  “Well that was bracing,” he said. “Not every day you see something like that, is it? Not here anyway.”

  “I think you sometimes do get freak tropical storms though,” Matt said thoughtfully, moving closer to the heater. He held his hands out in front of it, sighed contentedly as he rubbed them together. “Must be one of them.”

  Arnholt stroked his chin. “Maybe. Perhaps. I don’t know. It came on rather quickly for that. Usually there’s some sort of sign, some warning…”

  “It started during my friend Pete’s bout earlier,” Scott offered. Again, his thoughts drifted towards where Pete might have gone during all this, conspicuous by his absence. “You know, that one he lost against that battle dancer.”

  “No shame in losing to a more skilled opponent,” Arnholt remarked. “I saw some of that battle. I don’t think he can have too much to regret.”

  “He should have asked Mia about that Ulikku guy,” Matt said. “I mean she’s fought him a bunch of times on the circuit. She’d have been able to tell him everything, right sis?”

  He glanced around, came up empty. Then it dawned on Scott as well, the sudden realisation Mia had been remarkably silent since they’d got into the hotel.

  “Mia?!” Arnholt yelled.

  No response. Arnholt said a bad word vehemently, Scott felt a sinking feeling pushing through his stomach.

  “Find her!” Arnholt hissed, looking down at his son, the sort of tone hinting at the consequences if it wasn’t heeded. “Check she’s not in here! You too, boy!”

  He didn’t need telling twice, Scott already following Matt away through the crowd.

  David Wilsin had just finished drying himself when he saw the boss approaching. Slowly at first, but as their eyes met, Arnholt’s pace quickened and he covered the distance between them in double quick time. With a sudden heavy heart, he resisted the urge to salute. It wouldn’t do in public, but still he stood up a little straighter, clapped his hat to his heart.

  “Sir,” he said quietly. “Don’t suppose you know what’s happening here, do you?”

  “Not a weatherman, David,” Arnholt said. “At ease. You’re being conspicuous. Either way, this isn’t natural. I did see the forecasts this morning. There wasn’t anything like this on the horizon. It really came out of nowhere. And so, I need you to do me a favour.” He sighed. “Hate to ask, but it’s a personal one.”

  “Go on.” Wilsin was suddenly beset with visions of how he’d wasted his time getting used to the warmth of the hotel as Arnholt’s next words came from his mouth.

  “My daughter,” he said. “She isn’t here in this hotel. I think we were separated during the run over here. I can’t get in touch with her. Think you could run over to some of the other ones and check if she’s there.” He sighed. “Not asking you as your boss but as a father. Find her!” Those last two words came out through gritted teeth. Wilsin could empathise. It probably wasn’t easy to be abusing your position like this. It didn’t help he was willing to do it either. In the time Wilsin had spent with Unisco, he’d felt a tremendous respect develop for his boss. And having him owe you a favour in the long term wouldn’t be a bad thing either. Might be handy next time promotion opportunities came up.

  “Terrence,” he said, looking him in the eyes. It felt weird to call him that to his face but hey, like he’d said, not being conspicuous. “I’ll go have a look. Don’t worry. Consider her as good as found. No strings attached.”

  Arnholt clapped him on the shoulder, a relieved look plastered against his damp face. “Thank you, David. I won’t forget this.”

  “Don’t worry,” Wilsin muttered. “I doubt I will either.” He gave the island beyond the doors a dark look, reached down to his pack to check he had everything he needed. That was a hostile environment out there and he wanted to be prepared for the worst.

  He must have been crazy. That was the only thought that struck him as he stepped back out into the rain, fresh icy sleet lashing his face and neck. He’d grabbed one of the big waterproofs from a desk as he had left, wrapped it around himself but in the absence of any sort of fastenings, the wind tore it open exposing his chest to the elements. Absolutely crazy. He took off into a run, realising the quicker he got on with the task, the faster he could be back inside. Already he was yearning for it as he felt the chill spreading through his flesh.

  Super crazy!

  As he cut down the street, he couldn’t see any sign of her anywhere. Arnholt had been specific on the details of where they’d come from, they’d been at that abandoned bout. He’d been watching it in one of the bars, disappointed to see the way they’d decided it was to be abandoned so near the end. Hard luck for that Jameson kid, better luck for Arnholt’s son. Then the end had come, and he’d stepped out into the maelstrom. Had he known, he’d have remained. Yeah, he’d be dry, and Mia would probably still be out there, and her dad wouldn’t be abusing his power.

  He’s not though, Wilsin told himself. I could have said no. He made a request, asked a favour, didn’t order me to. And I am sworn to protect. Just because she’s the boss’s daughter doesn’t make any difference.

  It did. That was the reality of it. But it was something comforting to tell himself. Maybe she’d gone into the Goldsand. Or the Burnt Sienna. He’d double back to the stadium first, check she hadn’t been injured en route, then work his way there. Wouldn’t be farfetched to assume she might have tripped or slipped in the chaos and be laid injured somewhere.

  For urgent rescue missions, Unisco agents were sometimes equipped with life detectors, small portable scanners that could search the surrounding area faster than any human. They’d lock onto any parameter entered; clothing, DNA, jewellery and they’d find them in double quick time. Yet if there was one on the island, it’d be locked up far away from here. Wilsin didn’t have time to go get it, even if he did, it’d be overkill using one in this situation. He was good enough to find her in a storm; the detectors were for natural disasters. At least the landscape hadn’t changed too much.

  He was good enough… A bold statement, one he suddenly wished he hadn’t made, even to himself. Should he wager Mia Arnholt’s life on that, it would be a bad way to lose.

  She felt so cold. So, so cold as the rain continued to lash her clammy skin, plastered soaked clothing against her.

  Dad… Matt…

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  They’d been running through the rain, she could vaguely remember as if she were watching through someone else’s eyes and she’d fallen behind, damn shoes and the next thing she knew she’d felt pain, something sharp catching her on the side of the head. She tripped, her heel had broken, and she’d stumbled to the ground to the sounds of panic and chaos yet amidst the flashing lights intent on exploding in her head, she also could have sworn she’d heard manic lilting laughter.

  Somewhere in the distance she also thought she’d seen someone, someone she thought she knew. A second look at told them she was wrong. They weren’t there. With the rain pouring down on her, she’d tried to ignore the thought and get her head together. It was worse than being hung over. She’d rose to her feet, tried to catch up with Matt, Scott and her father only to realise they had long gone and she had no idea where they’d gotten to. With nothing more than a guess to go on, she’d started to head for the hotel, it being the last thing her father had said…

  Yeah, what her father said, she thought, a little more bitterly than she’d wanted to. After everything, he still expects us to do everything he says without question. If he’d done it a little more when I was younger, I’d probably do it. Instead…

  She swallowed it down, it wasn’t important now. All she could do was get to shelter, try to ignore the shivers wracking her body. She hadn’t dress
ed for it, her flimsy clothing felt ridiculously inadequate as she stumbled, the feeling going in her feet. Her teeth chattered together in her mouth, the rain clouding her vision. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so cold before, cold, cold, cold. She clutched her arms together about herself, trying to find some semblance of warmth, anything to just get her through the next numb footstep. There had to be somewhere she could get to. She couldn’t even recognise where she’d found herself, an unfamiliar part of the resort loomed up around her. Still somewhere… shelter… there had to be. Hotel, somewhere…

  She looked up, peered through the rain. Someone… Anyone? Where was everyone? She tried to quicken her pace, her sodden sandals scraping the ground beneath the sheet of water now running across the surface like a great wet carpet. Lights in the distance, if she could just get there, everything would be fine. How many more steps would it take? As many as it needed, all she could do was one at a time.

  She sneezed viciously, tried to wipe her eyes to little effect. Maybe she could hear voices. She tried to strain her ears for the sounds of life, wanting to hear anything but her own breathing and the constant patter of raindrops hitting the water.

  Huh…

  Was that movement up ahead? She rubbed at her eyes again, blinking furiously to try and see through the murk. One shadow looked larger than the others, slowly advancing towards her. Beneath the night sky, she saw the outline of the one casting it, something vaguely familiar about him. There was something about that walk and the outline of the frame, just something she couldn’t quite place, heavyset and long haired. Whoever it was, they carried something in their hands…

  “Help,” she coughed, a fresh shiver tearing through her as she tried to call out. “Help me, please!”