The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  “Glad you’re better, Mia.”

  “Yeah, be out of here soon,” she said. “I hope.”

  That was when the door burst open and a man, strange to Matt but someone Mia looked to recognise judging from the glass-eyed look spreading across her face, entered the room with what could only be described as a flounce. He carried three bouquets of brightly coloured Vazaran wildflowers, reds and purples and yellows blended together in perfect harmony, as well as a box of chocolates in a pink heart shaped box. His hair was long, his suit an acid green, his shirt a vivid shade of violet. He gave the impression of filling the room, it wasn’t just the way his suit struggled to contain his bulk, but the force of will he left trailing behind him, an exuberant sense of something Matt couldn’t quite describe.

  “Mia, honey,” he said, barrelling past Matt and straight to his sister. “I heard you were in here and never did my heart twist more. Here, have these, a token of my appreciation.” He dropped everything on the bed around her and bent down, taking her two small hands in his great pudgy paws.

  “Harv,” she said. “Hey!” The glass eyed looked had been replaced with something else, Matt noticed, a hint of gratitude as she reached up and hugged him. He hugged back, Matt narrowed his eyes to try and see better. Did he really clench his fists as they came together? Surely that was his imagination. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Well I didn’t mean to be,” Harv said. “But spirit dancing season is over, right? And I got a neat new job to tie me over for the summer, give me maximum credits. Which by felicitous circumstances means I’m here. What an amazing coincidence, right?”

  “I know,” Mia replied, glancing past him to her brother. “Harvey, this is my brother, Matthew Arnholt.” Matt wasn’t prepared to have his offered hand snatched from him and kissed, Harvey giving him a wink as he pressed lips to skin. He fought down the urge to pull it away. Somehow, he got the impression it’d do more harm than good. “Matt, this is Harvey Rocastle. He’s a spirit dancer like me.”

  “Mia m’dear, there are no spirit dancers like you,” Harvey trilled. Mia went red and giggled slightly, a small grin on her face. “You’re one of a kind.”

  “Just like everyone else,” Matt muttered. If Harvey heard him, he didn’t show it, instead focusing all his attention on Mia.

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked urgently. “It’s not fatal, is it?” She shook her head. “Oh, thank the Divines, you’ll have a special place in my prayers tonight, Mia.”

  “Errr… Thanks, Harv. I’m fine. Should be out before long. But thanks for the concern.” She sounded almost sincere, Matt thought, as she said it. Almost.

  “Hey, I can’t be getting rusty because my main rival is in the hospital,” Harvey giggled, patting aside some of the flowers and sitting down on the bed next to her. “Hey, speaking of, I see Reda is kicking ass here. Go dancers!” He did such an exaggerated twist of the shoulders and arms Mia burst out laughing. Matt fought the urge to roll his eyes.

  “So, tell me about your new job,” Mia said. “What brings you out here?”

  “Ah my favourite subject,” he replied. “Me! Me, me, me and more me just for a bit extra me. Anyway honey, you know about sponsorships, right?”

  Matt perked up at the mention at that. It wasn’t uncommon for new callers from families without credits to seek out someone wealthier to finance them for all the basic starter supplies on the proviso once their career took off, they would pay them back.

  “Yeah,” Mia said. The two of them had been party to a sort of sponsorship arrangement with their father. Although he was wealthy enough not to have needed it, Terrence Arnholt had told both his children they were going to pay him back. They’d both long since done so. Mia had resented it at the time, Matt remembered, but by the time she had enough credits to pay him back, she’d done so in double quick time.

  “Well I’m here on a scouting mission for a company who are looking for those to sponsor,” Harvey said excitedly. “I’m to find those that we can take to the next level.”

  “So, you came to an elite tournament to do that?” Matt asked, a little surprised at the revelation. It felt like someone possibly hadn’t thought that one through. “The two hundred statistically best callers in the five kingdoms, give or take, and you came here to look for sponsorship chances?”

  “Mia, sweetie, your brother might be cute but smart he ain’t,” Harvey said, shaking his head dismissively. “Oh dear, oh dear, I think you got it all.” Mia laughed, Matt could see she was eating it up and he shot her a hurt look. “I’m not after the best, Mattie, I’m interested in those that crashed and burned. The chance for a fresh start, all that jazz. And let’s not forget this place also attracts families, casual viewers who never had the chance to take it up before for whatever reason… Hey, smarter people than you made this decision. There obviously was enough of a reason for me to come here. I’m not complaining. A few weeks in the sun… Love it!”

  Matt had nothing to say to that other than, “Don’t call me Mattie,” a response that brought a harsh cackle of laughter from Harvey.

  “Okay sure, whatever you say,” Harvey said. “Might be getting in touch with you the way you fought yesterday.”

  That stung and Matt almost retorted, only holding it down when he saw Mia shake her head at him, almost pleading.

  “Yeah, I don’t need help,” he said. “And if I did, I wouldn’t ask for it from you.”

  Harvey laughed. “Where you been hiding this kid, Mia, I like him. He’s fiery. Don’t ever lose that, Matthew. It’ll take you far.” He glanced down at the timepiece on his wrist and grimaced. “Dearie me, is that the time. Sorry, Mia, I know you were happy to see me, but I can’t stay long. Business calls.” He leaned over, kissed her on the cheeks and stood up, straightening his jacket. “We’ll catch up before one of us leaves, count on it, right?”

  “Definitely,” Mia said. “I look forward to it.”

  “Tata Mattie,” Harvey said before flouncing out with the same vigour he’d arrived with. Matt grimaced, traced his path out of the room with his eyes. Out the corner of his eye, Matt saw him stop, a Vazaran in a dark suit waiting for him. For several moments they stood locked in conversation before vanishing. Fighting the feeling he’d seen the Vazaran someplace before, Matt shook it off and glanced back to Mia.

  “So,” he said. “Really?”

  She sighed. “Yeah, that’s Harvey.”

  “Really?” he repeated.

  “You’re just upset because he thought you were cute,” she giggled.

  “I’m not upset.”

  “Oh, you mean you liked it?” She laughed even harder and Matt frowned at her, waiting for her mirth to die down. “Lighten up, I’m kidding you about.”

  “There’s something real skeevy about him,” Matt said. “He makes my teeth itch. How do you know him again?”

  “I thought he said, he thinks he’s my rival,” Mia replied. “Wants to be better than me. Hey,” she added, seeing the bemused look on Matt’s face. “It’s not so unusual. You get it in the fighting aspect of the sport. Remember when you swore you were going to be better one day than that guy who always beat you? What was his name?”

  “Antonio Chavez?” Matt offered. “Tony Chav, everyone called him. He hated that.”

  “Anyway, my point is… Whatever happened to him anyway? My point is, you had a rivalry with him, even if he didn’t acknowledge it.”

  “He totally did acknowledge it,” Matt protested. “When I finally beat him, he smirked at me, marked it off as twenty-five to one in his favour and strolled off whistling. Haven’t seen him since.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “Weird. Anyway, Harvey’s an okay guy. A little eccentric but takes all sorts to make the world interesting. He’s nearly always a laugh.”

  “Nearly?”

  “Okay, so he can have a bit of a short fuse. Can’t really blame him for that.” Mia shrugged her shoulders. “It’s funny he came here actually.”

  �
��Yeah?” Matt asked, watching his sister move some of the flowers into the empty vase on her bedside. “Funny ha-ha funny or funny when the gardener finds out what happened to those flowers?”

  “Not that,” Mia said, a little snappily. “When I was out that night… Wandering around in the rain… I’m not stupid,” she added, seeing the look on her brother’s face. “I got a knock on the head, fell, I wasn’t wearing much to start with and I got soaked. One of the symptoms of hypothermia is disorientation, a doctor told me.”

  Matt shrugged. “What’s your point?”

  “Only I thought I saw him out in the rain,” she said. “Right before that Wilsin guy found me, I thought I saw him walking towards me. But when David showed up, I looked back, and he’d gone. I don’t know why.”

  “Should have asked him,” Matt said, shrugging again. “If you don’t know, I sure as hells don’t.” He glanced at his timepiece. “Ah well, I’ll leave you soon. I got to go to my rematch. That Theo dude was furious when we were told what was happening. I honestly thought he was going to hit the ICCC guy.”

  “How’s it working?” Mia asked curiously. “Are you replaying the whole thing?” Matt shook his head.

  “Unfortunately, no. We’re just going to go back to where we were, with the exact same circumstances as when it was abandoned. About the best I can hope for. And at least the weather is back to normal.”

  “Plus, there’s no way you can be that bad again,” Mia said, giving him a playful grin. “Well I’ll be with you in spirit, bro.”

  “Hey, I win this one, I’m never letting you in the stadium again,” Matt laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever won when you’ve been watching me live. You’re a jinx, sis.”

  The twenty eighth day of Summerdawn.

  The complaints of Theobald Jameson remained long after the memory of the actual bout in which Matt had fought hard to claim a well-earned draw out of a battling display. Reports claimed Jameson had kicked a huge dent in one of the lockers in his changing room following the decision. Scott had privately smirked when he’d heard how Theo had allegedly been fined by the ICCC over the destruction as well as awaiting some sort of punishment for the rant he’d been filmed venting at the organisation. It had already become a hit in the media; he’d seen it played at least once every hour while wandering the resort.

  Still it was time to put it out of his mind. The first round had ended, the second round of group stage matches had gotten underway, all of it leading up to this. His bout with Santo Bruzack.

  He could hear the commentary coming through the speakers in the tunnel as he walked up the stairs to the battlefield. It all looked like new. Of course, it did, the repairs were still fresh. No wonder he’d been thinking of Matt and Theo’s bout. After all, this was the same stadium where they’d held the first one.

  “We’re here from the newly reopened Stadium Four, the water battlefield damaged during that storm we had a few days ago. It’s been repaired, say what you like about the local workmen but when the whip is cracked, they sure can get things done. “

  “Yeah, I know, the pool has been repaired and it looks better than new. Whatever happens today, we’re surely not about to get another storm in. Still, that aside, I defy anyone to say the tournament hasn’t been a success so far. You can’t blame the organisers for a tropical storm; anyone who does is a fool.”

  He’d stopped listening long since, instead Scott found himself focusing his attention upon Bruzack, the figure at the other side of the pool an average sized man in his thirties with thinning hair and a face like an oversized rat. Even his scruffy beard gave the impression of whiskers he nibbled at every few moments.

  “Anyway, the second group stage match of group D is about to get underway, Santo Bruzack of Serran, a second-round contender from last time facing off against Scott Taylor of Premesoir. Taylor won his opening bout against Leslie Graham who faces Nicholas Roper later, Roper himself beating Bruzack last time. If Taylor wins this, he will be through to the next round, Bruzack will be eliminated.”

  Scott felt a little quiver of glee in the pit of his stomach at that bit of news. Into the next round. All he had to do was beat the rat man in front of him and he’d be into the next round, could relax during the final group bout. Come on Scotty, he urged himself. We can do this. We will do this.

  This was always the worst part of a bout for him. He didn’t like the wait to get underway. If it was left up to him, he’d just run out and start fighting. Forget all the bloody trimmings they made you go through in tournaments, the whole bigging up the video referee and the verbal sparring between the commentators. It was all he could do to focus on the bout ahead, already working out his opening strategies. He knew what he’d do, how he’d do it and he’d be doing it right now if it wasn’t for the insipid process. By the time the whistle finally went, he was almost pacing up and down his caller area impatiently, trying to avoid the urge to wring his hands together in frustration. Finally!

  He didn’t hesitate in bringing out his first spirit, making the choice of which he’d use to face off against the giant black rat Bruzack had selected.

  Seasel!

  He could remember the day he’d claimed the water weasel, then a small thin creature maybe two feet long but with a mouthful of teeth he’d discovered when he’d nearly chewed one of his fingers off. Seasel had a rich dark blue fur that shimmered in the sunlight, pointed ears pricking up as the crowd applauded the presence of the two combatants. Of course, Seasel wasn’t quite as small now as he had been back then. Twice the size and twice again the muscle rippled under the fur as he bared those needle-sharp teeth towards the enemy. In the water, the rodent could easily muster up the same velocity as a powerful boat, those three tails whip thin and just as potently sharp.

  “And we have a rodent battle about to kick off here, a Serranian mammoth rat if I’m not mistaken and I rarely am, facing off against a Burykian water weasel. How do you see this playing out?”

  “Well, this could be vicious. Nothing fights better than a rodent with nothing to lose in a tight space. These two are both small, they both look quick and what do their callers have in store to surprise the other? We shall see.”

  There was the signal, Scott mentally cheered as the video referee gave them the sign to commence, the shrill shriek of the whistle drowning out the crowd.

  Second win, here I come!

  With just as much confidence as he felt, Seasel dived beneath the surface of the water without creating so much as a ripple, leaving the giant rat stood alone atop one of the platforms.

  Bruzack shrugged. As if he were silently saying ‘And?’ He didn’t look impressed. Scott kept his face calm, kept his eyes locked on the water where Seasel was hidden. He couldn’t see his spirit. Not through the water, the fur was too good camouflage. But somewhere, Seasel was watching, waiting for the right moment.

  Not for much longer!

  The speed surprised him as Seasel shot out of the water like a blaster bolt, crashing into the giant rat’s side and tackling it roughly to the ground. Scott saw the mouth slide open, Seasel bit down hard into its neck, drawing dark blood. He fought the urge to punch the air.

  Ha take that!

  “Armand!” It was the first words he’d heard Bruzack speak and he was surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. “This is not where you fall!”

  Scott shrugged, gestured at the rat with a fierce thrust of his finger. “Seasel, keep it up.”

  Back into the water went the weasel, the mammoth rat standing squat against the platform, ears flat back against its head. He could see its nose twitching, he wondered what it had planned. Surely it couldn’t smell Seasel beneath the water. Hear him maybe, but smell had to be impossible.

  He wasn’t fool enough to try the same trick twice in a row. If Bruzack had anything about him, he’d expect it. This time Seasel hit the platform beneath Armand, the sudden impact knocking the rat from its feet, blood spraying everywhere. Again, Seasel sprang from the water and, under
Scott’s command, shot a powerful spray of water from his mouth. It struck Armand in the side, sent the already tumbling rat bouncing towards the edge. It hit the rim of the platform, Scott expected to hear a splash as it went into the drink.

  He was disappointed, the rat bounced and sprang back into the fray, lunging at the startled Seasel who yelped as yellowed teeth bit into his stomach. With a swipe from one of his front paws, Seasel managed to knock Armand away but the damage had been done. Or had it? Scott looked on, saw the bites were only superficial at best. With an opening like that, he’d expected something a little more potent.

  He gave the mental command and the second shot of water erupted from Seasel’s jaws, just as potent as the first. This time though, Armand sprang aside, the blast hitting the space where the rat had stood seconds earlier. He could have sworn it’d taken some of the surfacing off the platform, such was the power behind it. No good if it didn’t land though.

  This time, Armand went on the attack, charging towards Seasel with claws out. He screamed mentally for Seasel to evade yet the command went on sluggish ears, what once had been fluid movement looked laboured and leggy. With the sudden burst of speed from the enemy, Seasel couldn’t escape and the claws dug in deep, adding fresh blood to the platform. Gore stained the water and the audience howled in anticipation. They sensed a killing blow coming and with it, Scott felt a sudden stab of worry as something twitched in the recesses of his memory.

  Mammoth rats weren’t poisonous, were they?

  He was sure he’d heard that somewhere, didn’t know if it were true or not. That might explain for Seasel’s sudden lack of cohesion. Even if they weren’t naturally, it wasn’t impossible for someone to modify them to deliver a deadly dose of venom. That revelation put a different complexion on the bout.

  Seasel! You might be hurting but we need to finish this now before it gets ugly. Get in close and hit it with everything you have! Please!

  If he had been a person, Seasel might have sighed, or even flat-out refused, maybe shown some sign of not wanting to do it. Yet despite everything, he just went ahead and obeyed without question. Armand didn’t know what had hit it as Seasel came flying in with a head butt, spinning around to swipe three, four, five times ith both tails with brutal slashing motions before finally the teeth went for the neck again, this time finding more purchase.