The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  Scott had heard what a throat being torn out sounded like before, it wasn’t a sound he particularly savoured, even in circumstances like this. Still he did breathe a sigh of relief as the torn throat plopped to the floor and Bruzack brought the rat back to a capture crystal. One down. Nearly there.

  Except relief turned to dismay as Seasel went down too, the poison overcoming him to the point his legs couldn’t hold him up any more. He heard the pained rasping breaths as Seasel lay there twitching before finally they halted, and the video referee beeped again, signalling an inability to continue.

  Crap!

  With the withdrawal of Seasel, he made his next choice immediately, seeking to take advantage of the surroundings by sending in Palawi. Any error that resulted in Bruzack’s next spirit going in the water, it was getting fried.

  His reaction was one of bemusement when the second spirit emerged from Bruzack. Oh, another snake. Big deal, I did one of those before, I’ll do it again. The spirit in question was a lot stubbier than the one Graham had used, shorter and a deep mud colour with a series of black bone-like spines across its back. Upon opening its mouth, Scott saw that it didn’t have just one set of fangs but rather an array of them, too many to count and all of them razor sharp.

  The first thing it did upon flopping onto the platform was slide into the water and Scott felt like all his birthdays had come at the same time. “Palawi,” he said casually as he could manage. “Please zap it!”

  He even gave Bruzack the wink as Palawi obliged, the sight of the electricity touching the water lighting up Bruzack’s impassive features. Scott thought he’d have been more worried by what was going on. Unless…

  Suddenly he got the feeling he might have overreached himself, that Bruzack knew something that he didn’t.

  Uh oh.

  Chapter Twenty. The Best Laid Plans.

  “Everything works until you introduce the presence of idiots.”

  Sharon Arventino in one of her more cynical moments.

  The twenty eighth day of Summerdawn.

  The news had come through that morning and she’d not spoken since, instead perching on the edge of her desk, chin rested atop a steeple fashioned of her own fingers. Three hours had passed in silence. Her bodyguard hadn’t flinched, locked into the same position since her cogitation had begun. If he felt any discomfort, he wasn’t showing it. She tried to avoid staring at the secure data pad, the outlines of the Carcaradis mission, the accounts from Fuller and Rocastle, the failures of the triplets to report and the disappearance of Doctor Blut all heavy on her mind.

  Today was not looking to be a good day. A viewing screen against the back wall showed the latest from the tournament she’d worked so hard to arrange, some half-breed kid fighting a dog against a rat faced man with an eel. Neither of them looked particularly appealing, it was beyond her to care, even before she considered the other message.

  And then there’d been the other message. The one that had come the previous night from one of her most precious of assets, Subtractor. Her bad mood had gestated, with just seven words of secure transmission.

  Triplets KIA. Blut presumed dead. Operation compromised.

  Blut would be hard to replace, despite his shortcomings as a human being, his knowledge had been unparalleled in his fields. Theology. Divinity. History. He’d been a useful man to have around, he’d have been assured a place in her Future. Somehow with this setback, said Future looked less secure.

  Suddenly she was disgusted with herself. Blut wasn’t a key part of the plan. His knowledge wasn’t lost, his notes still existed. He’d been a luxury almost convincing in its need to be a necessity, yet it could be done without him. If he was dead, he would be remembered, nothing more. But to cast the whole project into doubt because of him not being there to be a part of it…

  She might have spat at that thought; would it not belie her aura of control. She was better than self-doubt. Her Future would come to pass, and the world a better place for it.

  On the screen, the eel sprang from the water and bit the dog on the nose. Dozens of little needle teeth ripped through fur and flesh and bone, tearing it away as the dog let loose a blast of electricity in revenge, its face a mask of blood and gore but if the eel was bothered by the high voltage, it didn’t show it. With blood streaking its scales, it wriggled back into the pool and stuck its head out as if taunting its opponent. The half breed boy looked worried.

  A means to an end. That’s all it was. She hadn’t enjoyed all the lobbying to ensure that tournament took place on that crap hole of an island, found it degrading to say the least, pandering to all those loathsome men and their high -nosed ideas of how many credits they wanted for the pleasure. Getting rid of the natives had been more trouble than it had been worth in the first place. Especially taking them alive. Would have been easier to kill them, had Blut not intervened, they would have been exterminated on sight. But no, he’d discovered the cavern beneath the island and formed his theories about the statue of Kalqus. Divines loved sacrifice. That had been Blut’s theory and he’d bled them each day over the statue until something had happened.

  His last transmission had told her of the portal. And it had sounded beautiful, a doorway to another side, a clear opening to something she’d only been able to dream of. It had been snatched away from her cruelly. The reports had come in about the storm on the island, how it had interrupted Blut’s transmission. As the storm had faded, she’d soon gotten word the operation was a failure.

  So, what now? She’d already sent someone to Blut’s home to retrieve his files, she’d need to arrange for someone to go through them for any information. Someone who could be bought and discarded when no longer needed. She wasn’t going to make the mistake of assuming anyone was irreplaceable again. Only she held that honour. Without her, it would all fall to pieces, her vision of the future never realised.

  Her thoughts turned to the statue on her desk, the one her bodyguard had retrieved all those days ago, still sat proud against the violet velvet of the carry case. She shouldn’t be carrying it around. It should be back at home, taking pride of place in her collection. So why couldn’t she let it out of her sight. She reached out, stroked a fingertip across it delicately. It was an ugly bit of stone, unpleasant to the touch and yet somehow it wasn’t something she felt able to let go of.

  Weird.

  Her quiet contemplation was to be broken immediately by the sudden trill of her summoner, she sat bolt upright, startled by sound shattering the silence. She shot a look at her bodyguard, he hadn’t reacted. Sometimes she cursed his unflappable demeanour as she answered, still quietly seething.

  “Yes?!” she said, not shouting but her voice quietly pointed.

  “Mum?” came the familiar voice. She relaxed. Meredith. Not that talking to her daughter right now would be much more pleasant. “You want to go for dinner? There’s a new place opened up and…”

  She fought the urge to smile coolly. “Meredith, I have a busy schedule for the next few hours…” a lie but what could you do. “… but I’ll see what I can do to clear it. Come by the office, I’ll meet you.”

  “Okay. Thanks mum. Ah… I love you, mum.”

  “Anything for my little girl. Love you too.” She quickly hung up and this time the sigh came out long and harsh as she looked at her bodyguard. “You ever think about having kids?”

  “No, Mistress.”

  “My advice is don’t,” she said. “More trouble than they’re worth. Maybe that’s my fault.” She watched him, curious as his face lit up with horror at her suggestion.

  “Never, Mistress. You’ve been good to your daughter and how does she repay you?”

  He sounded like he believed it as well. Meredith might be her flesh and blood, but her Future would be her true legacy.

  Nobody would ever forget that. She wouldn’t permit them to.

  “Palawi!”

  Scott’s scream filled the stadium as Palawi hit the surface of the water and immediately went u
nder, eyes unfocused and any attempts at breathing long since gone. Across from him, Illic, the eel grinned evilly through beady little eyes and he felt a stab of anger rush stab at him. Bruzack remained impassive, his reaction being to flick something from his sleeve. A few seconds passed and then science took its course, the body floated back up to the top and Scott had it confirmed Palawi wasn’t going to be able to continue. It sickened him he’d made such a bad choice in battle, truly.

  Stupid, stupid idiot! He’d managed to go from Seasel giving that bloody rat a pounding to somehow losing. And how?

  Okay, he knew the answer, but he didn’t like it. Stupid cocky idiot! He finished mentally berating himself, the realisation it was neither the time nor the place hitting him. He needed to get his head back into the game and force it in his favour. Illic still was relatively healthy, Palawi had landed some blows but nowhere near enough. He needed a lot more.

  Maybe he had the answer. Scott looked at the pool and realised he’d made a mistake. He’d played his hand to adapt to the environment and it had served him badly. Bruzack hadn’t done that, he’d fought his own game and it was serving him well. When Seasel had been pounding Armand, he hadn’t panicked, he’d just continued the same strategy as he’d intended.

  Well no more. He took one more look at the pool and made his choice. This might be a tight fit, but it could work. Worst case scenario, he couldn’t say he hadn’t given everything trying to win.

  “Snooze,” he muttered, locking in the last container crystal. “It’s all up to you. Let’s go make a comeback.” Somewhat more confident than he had been a moment ago, he let it go and covered his face for the inevitable splash.

  He still found himself soaked. Okay, a splash might be understating it somewhat. More like a mini-tsunami as the water hit him, it soaked Bruzack who for the first time showed some emotion other than casual disinterest and even the front few rows of the crowd weren’t spared from the water raining on them. Already he could tell the surface of the pool was inches lower than before as the new entry settled on the bottom and stretched out his arms, a dull yawn echoing around the arena.

  Scott found himself pleased he’d at least judged the depths right. Snooze could stand up at least, rise on his hind legs and deal out some hurt. Not that the bear would probably enjoy it. Sloth bears weren’t as uncommon as one might think but given the size of them, very few predators thought about attacking them in the wild. Seeing something that spends most of its day sleeping might seem like an opportune snack. When the said beast is bigger than most elephants and weighed twice as much, it felt less like an opportunity and more an act of desperation. That the grey-brown pelt was as hard as iron didn’t make it sound appetising either. In all the time he’d had Snooze, Scott was more than glad spirits didn’t have to eat. Paying for enough food to keep him healthy would have bankrupted him by now. As it was, the spirit was a handy weapon to keep in reserve for a time like this. A time when he needed something that could give it out as well as take it.

  “Okay, what you got,” he muttered as the video referee gave them the signal to resume. “Come on Bruzack, you’ve got a big enough target here.”

  Even if he didn’t hear him, it looked like his opponent agreed as Illic let loose a blast of electricity through the water, just as Palawi had previously. The difference being, as Scott had discovered, Snooze wasn’t immune, he heard a little moan emerge from his spirit as the shock burst through the water, crashed against the thick hide. Snooze’s ears pricked up, eyes widened before the current faded and Scott could see his spirit had shaken it off.

  Get in!

  Bruzack and Illic weren’t finished as the eel went streaking through the water, Scott felt the surge of glee rush through him. Something as big and bulky as Snooze wasn’t agile enough to trade blows with smaller opponents, but there was one thing he could do most others couldn’t.

  He wondered exactly when Bruzack realised he’d overreached himself, but he saw the look of dismay on his opponent’s face as the giant shadow towered over Illic and a second great splash tore out as Snooze hit the floor of the pool, smashing two platforms aside and Illic was lost beneath the great body.

  Scott punched the air as Snooze very slowly rose off the crater that had formed beneath the great bulk, tiles and mortar torn apart by the impact, and scratched his haunch. Seconds later, Illic floated to the surface of the water, resembling a tube of paste someone had stamped on.

  All level. Now what could Bruzack do to him now? He could smell victory now, all he had to do was not make some stupid mistake again

  Just keep calm and focused Taylor and you’ll win this, be into the next round.

  The video referee trilled Illic was unable to continue, as if there was any doubt, and he watched Bruzack summon the spirit back. That rat face looked impassive Scott got the impression he was looking Snooze up and down. He didn’t like that look, it worried him he might have something to counter the sloth bear. Meh, long as it wasn’t another sloth bear or a dragon, he wasn’t too worried. So far Bruzack had used an eel and an oversized rat, it didn’t exactly speak of someone adventurous in their choice of claims.

  Except those unadventurous choices forced you into a corner didn’t they Taylor? So, don’t think that this is over yet just because he’s in the same position you were thirty seconds ago.

  For another ten seconds, Bruzack remained motionless before he drew a crystal from his pocket and locked it into his summoner, sending out his third and final choice for the bout.

  It materialised in front of him, standing proud and tall on one of the undamaged platforms and Scott felt a little ‘huh’ of surprise escape him as he studied it. This might make things interesting.

  Pete couldn’t believe he’d resorted to doing this as he stared at the screen. But his bout with Sharon was imminent and he needed every little advantage he could get. Scott had said he’d done it before his first bout and he’d won. What was the harm? Of course, it was a touch embarrassing having to look up your own sister on the system but hey, who would know? Besides, they might be related but it didn’t mean he knew everything about her fighting style.

  Until she’d come here, and they’d hooked up that first day, she hadn’t even told him she was getting married. That was the depths of their sibling bond in a nutshell. It was the first time he’d seen her in months but at the same time, he was only a quick communication away. Still as he typed the name into the database, he felt reassured. There was only so much waiting you could do before you it drove you insane. And he needed to do something useful. He’d got his strategies worked out, he had an idea what he was going to do, and it was just tailoring it.

  The screen changed, and he saw Sharon’s picture flash up, one of her looking coy against a grassy background. He wondered who’d taken it briefly, scrolled down past it and momentarily saw his own picture in the Connections section, along with the tab labelled Half-Brother beneath it. More prominent was the picture of Nick Roper and the label Fiancé. He recognised his own picture, it had been taken months earlier when he’d finished runner up in the Tekari town championship.

  Still, back to Sharon… Half-sister of Peter Jacobs, fiancé of Nicholas Roper, daughter of Canderous Arventino. That was a surprise. He’d never really known much about Sharon’s father; she did have eight years on him after all. Maybe he’d look him up shortly, just out of curiosity. Down into the Known Spirits section, he recognised most of them, Gamorra the shark lizard amongst them. Doubtless he’d have to face that monster at some point, she loved that spirit more than she did most people. Rumour even went that she’d helped Roper get his hands on one. Nothing new here.

  He scrolled down to the biography and suddenly stopped. These things were never entirely accurate, they always embellished or ignored something. He ran his eyes down it, suddenly curious. Early life is true, spent most of her early teenage years babysitting her little brother… Left home at seventeen to become a spirit caller. That was a little weird.

 
He, like most people he’d known, usually became callers at sixteen. He’d been half her age back then, he didn’t really remember too much but… Yeah, she had been around then. He could remember her arguing with their mother and his father a lot. Why, he couldn’t remember. Pushing the puzzle to the back of his mind, he scrolled down to the bits about her early career and was immediately met with another interesting photo.

  The photo was Sharon, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with short cropped blond hair and her summoner around her neck stood wearing a white dress in accompaniment of an older man dressed in a dark blue suit, his eyes dark and his skin tanned. Even in the old picture, the intensity of his stare wasn’t lost. Pete recognised him immediately, the Quin-C was conspicuous by his absence. Unless he was mistaken, and the next bit of text confirmed he wasn’t, the man was none other than the current champion, Ruud Baxter. In his hands, he clutched a silver cane, held himself like an aristocrat, his dark hair crammed beneath a jaunty white fedora.

  On the screen, the text read Sharon Arventino, 18, attends opening ceremony of the Ypres Invitational Tournament with mentor Ruud Baxter, 34.

  That his sister had been trained by Baxter came as a surprise, this felt like the sort of thing she probably should have mentioned. Yet, it was the first time he’d heard about it. He read on, running across a brief article about how both had denied romantic inclinations towards each other, Baxter insisting she was his protégé, Sharon claiming that he was teaching her more than just spirit calling, although didn’t go into detail. It did mention she’d been given her lucky ankle bracelet by her former mentor, their professional relationship had continued until the day Sharon turned twenty, when the bio claimed they were never seen together in public again, barring several encounters in the spirit calling arena, none of which Sharon had come close to claiming victory in.