The Great Game Trilogy
Page 43
“Yeah but she was like fourteen, fifteen then, am I right? And with guys of the same age. I mean I remember being that age, I was a complete dick back then.”
“You’re a complete dick now, nothing’s changed,” Pete grinned. Scott ignored him and kept on talking.
“My point is, you mature. I’m not the same person I was back then. Neither are you. Neither is Sharon. Hells I changed in the time I was with Jess and I’m not sure it was for the better. I miss who I was back then. Life felt simpler.”
“Simpler but not really better,” Pete said. “Those first few months as a spirit caller really suck, don’t forget that. You enter tournaments you know you have no chance of winning, all for a few measly credits for the privilege of being humiliated by someone better. All so you don’t go hungry and you can get slightly better and not be beaten as badly next time. And so, the process goes on until you get even, and you start beating down people who were in your shoes a year ago.”
“And look where we are now,” Scott said, nodding in agreement. Pete was right of course, it hadn’t necessarily been better back then. Maybe he was just remembering things differently. The past always looked so much better compared to the present.
Suddenly he didn’t feel so bad. Things looked a little better. Sure, there was still an ache in his stomach where Jess’ absence lingered but he didn’t feel as bad. There’d be plenty more along. “Thanks, Pete.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything.” Pete genuinely sounded confused. “Are you going to invite Mia to that dance then?”
Scott shrugged. “Don’t know, mate. Going to wait and see. It’s a bit soon. If Jess is still on the island, it could cause an argument.”
“Well if someone else asks her, don’t come crying to me. I don’t want to have to kick you out of another depressive funk. Because I mean it, if you don’t ask her, I might.”
A dull flare of anger twitched in the back of Scott’s mind, he fought the urge to rise to his feet. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
“She’s not interested in you.”
“How do you know that?” Pete grinned at him and Scott felt his stomach lurch. “Give her the old Jacobs charm and we’ll see where it gets me. Are you going to do it?”
“Probably. Next time I see her, I’ll bring it up. Still doesn’t feel right.”
“Meh, principles are for those prepared to lose. And you want to win, don’t you?”
“I guess.” Scott shrugged, and Pete rolled his eyes as if the apathy offended him to his core.
“Good enough I suppose. I’d like to hear more enthusiasm, but I guess we can’t have everything.”
“Okay, okay, I’ve got him on the spirit caller’s database,” Anne said, trying to manoeuvre around Lysa to get to the viewing screen. Lysa didn’t budge, stayed sat in the chair and in the end, Anne had to settle for standing, trying to ignore the surge of triumph emanating from Lysa as she gave a playful spin in the seat. She also tried to ignore the thoughts about how easily she could topple it with the tip of her foot if she found the right angle. That’d wipe the smirk from her face. “Here he is…”
“You’re certainly desperate to find him,” Lysa said. “I hope he’s worth it. Because honestly, I think he’s a complete idiot.”
“Only because he didn’t know who you were.”
“Yeah, he knew who you were though,” Lysa muttered. “I’m in this tournament, you’re not. How does that make me less famous than you?”
Anne ignored her. She wasn’t as resentful as she made out, she could tell. “Well when you’ve had as interesting and varied career as I have…” She let it tail off as she read the name on the screen and scrolled down to more of the data. “Maybe he just remembers me from my time when I was a city champion.”
“Still don’t know why you stopped doing that. You were awesome at it.” Anne tried to suppress down the surge of pride she felt flooding through her.
“I didn’t like the staying in one place thing. I’m on the road developing my strength a lot now with my spirits. Between that and the other job, I’m pretty busy.”
“You ever thought about developing the other thing?” Lysa asked suddenly. “I mean, seeing how far you can take that? You can sense stuff now but if you worked at it…”
“I don’t have time,” Anne said, still reading the file. “So, Theobald Jameson, you seem interesting.”
“Rude, unpleasant, probably cruel, arrogant… All the sort of character traits you really want to put up with. And he has a stupid name. No wonder he shortens it.”
“He’s also in pain,” Anne replied, scrolling down. It was all there, Theobald’s battling records, known spirits and battle styles but very little about his family life. “He’s in horrible pain and he’s dealing with it in a terrible way. I don’t even want to know what brought it about. I just have this uncontrollable urge to try and help.”
“You do realise he probably wouldn’t appreciate you prying into his private life. You know the only time we pry into someone’s life is to see if we can link them to a crime. “
“There’s not even any family history on here,” Anne said, ignoring her. “Nothing about his early life. This is incomplete.”
“Well, the caller database can be,” Lysa said, studying the surly face in front of her with arms folded, one hand stroking her chin.
Anne knew she had a point. It didn’t have to include any information the subject didn’t want to. If Theobald didn’t want his family life on there, it wasn’t going to be on there.
“You know I’m still sure he looks familiar. I just can’t think where.” Anne let her study the face for a few moments before she spoke again. “And he didn’t strike me as someone who would be open about his past. Not if he’s in as much pain as you say he is.” Anne thought she heard a faint note of sarcasm, chose to ignore it. She wasn’t getting anything untowardly dissenting from her friend. Probably her imagination. “Maybe we should look him up in the Unisco database. You know if he’s that interesting.”
“Seems like a bit overkill. And an abuse of power. I mean there’s no possible reason for us to be chasing him down.”
“Think we can come up with one between now and getting it up and running?” Lysa asked, grinning. “I mean that. There’s something suspicious here. I’d say he was acting suspicious.”
“Really, how so?”
“Well he didn’t hit on either of us. That’s shifty enough right away.” She said it with a huge grin, Anne couldn’t help but laugh.
“You know, I’ve missed you,” she said. “I really have. Come on, let’s do it.”
The second day of Summerpeak.
The third round of matches in the group stage of the Centenary Competitive Calling Challenge Cup started a few days after, each final match in the group taking place at the same time. Already the first few of the second-round contestants were confirmed, Harry Devine, the man who’d gotten the opening match of the tournament off to a win made his way into the next round, finishing above Glenn Wright to win the group while David Wilsin edged out Meadow Laine to win his group. Wade Wallerington and Lysa Montgomery went through first and second respectively to make the next round.
Pete had made it as well, just. Scott had been at the bout between him and Bella Carrezo, having worked out the mathematics which would see him qualify. With one point going in, he’d needed to overhaul one of Sharon with four and both Reda Ulikku and Carrezo herself with three. Sharon had beaten Carrezo, who herself had beaten Ulikku, sending him out despite his victory over Pete.
When the announcer had told them all during Pete’s bout that Ulikku had been destroyed easily by Sharon, the sections of the crowd supporting Pete had gone berserk in their support and he’d rode that wave to take down the pretty Serranian who’d hugged him and wished him luck as he’d gone through. Matt Arnholt had gone through, taken second place to Theobald Jameson and now, Scott knew, it was his turn.
He found himself very aware of the
occasion, knowing Leslie Graham and Santo Bruzack were also fighting at the same time on another part of the island for the same place in the next round he was fighting for. And at the same time, they didn’t have to face down Nick Roper, a man who’d won his two matches already and was on six points. Leslie Graham had zero. Bruzack and Scott both had three. It was between them. Scott looked at the steely eyed caller across the ice-covered battlefield from him and he gulped. Roper was through already, he just needed something to guarantee top spot. He studied Scott with an inscrutable eye, arms folded in silent as the announcer went through all the permutations for the crowd.
Scott already knew what he was going to do, he was going to have to start off strong and build up a lead. He needed a good opening, he’d examined the sort of tactics Roper employed. Power. He had plenty of it, but he was also an excellent tactician in using that power. If he was just blindly cumbersome in his power, it’d be easy. Fighting power with power wasn’t always the best tactic, Pete had shown that in his draw with Sharon, but sometimes you had to do it.
Desperate times.
He wondered if Jess was watching, before quickly rejecting the thought. Thinking of her now wouldn’t do anyone any good. Least of all him. He needed his head in the game. He shook himself and took a deep breath, focused entirely on Roper. No more stray thoughts. If he got distracted here, he would lose. No two ways about it.
Come on, come on, he thought, casting an impatient glance at the video referee. The screen showed it was still warming up, the dull glow signalling its intent of not quite being ready yet. Come on, come on…
Go!
Roper moved first, activating his summoner in one swift practiced motion and Scott couldn’t help but watch as the shape materialised in front of him. Slender white furred legs, a compact green body almost the colour of a tunic, blades emerging from the elbows of skinny arms and an almost comically oversized white head with a tuft of fur rising from the crown, giving it the appearance of wearing a bright green helmet.
It wasn’t something he was too familiar with, but the announcer gave him clues as to its identity as he yelled out, “and Roper starts the bout with a garj! This species is native to the mountains of Canterage, they live in packs and use their elbow blades in elaborate duels for the leadership contests. Based on the size of those blades, I would say this is a male one! What can Taylor pick to counter?”
He’d never heard of them before. No time to change the strategy now though. The garj stood maybe four feet tall, almost up to Scott’s chest and he reached for his own summoner, slotting in the crystal.
“Okay Sangare, it’s time for you to make your entrance to the tournament,” he muttered. “Let’s do this!”
The spirit that appeared was easily four or five times the size of the garj, crashing down onto all fours as it tossed his serpent-like neck back and let out a bellow that almost shook the stadium. Five pointed horns protruded out the back of the triangle shaped head, scarlet covered scales lay across the thick body, great claws tore up the ice beneath his feet. The tail was whipcord thin, lined with the same spikes covering the length of his spine while two great leathery wings protruded from his back. Scott peered past Sangare, hoping to see some reaction on Roper’s face but all he got was quiet amusement.
“Impressive,” he said softly. “Very impressive indeed. I hope you know how to use it.” The garj nodded in agreement, flashing his blades out in front of him into an unmistakeable fighting stance. “Shall we then?”
“Oh, I’m ready,” Scott said as the referee gave them signal to start. “Let’s do this!”
Chapter Twenty-Five. Don’t Make It the Last One.
“Everything comes to an end. That is the nature of life itself. As a purpose, it is singularly bleak, we are moving through an endless great cycle. Everything that ends must have had a beginning.”
James Michael Tan, five kingdoms philosopher.
The second day of Summerpeak.
A burst of fire, final and almost poignant, erupted from Sangare’s mouth and engulfed the garj with a terrible burst of heat. As it cleared, the humidity lingering in the air, the garj lay blackened and twitching in a half-melted pool of icy water. No getting back up from that.
Yes! Yes! Scott punched the air. One down. The garj was dead, he was a third of the way there. He watched Roper return the creature to a capture crystal and he drew a deep breath, forcing himself to stay focused. This wasn’t over yet. Sangare had defeated Bish, the garj, but Roper still undoubtedly had a few more tricks in his sleeve that he hadn’t shown yet.
Out came the second spirit, a large bipedal frog hued in green and yellow, a pair of pointy horns protruding from its head, large twisted claws poking from webbed hands, claws dripping with venom. A horn headed arrow frog, Scott had seen tone before. Barry Harrison, an old friend from back home, had one although admittedly not as big or vicious looking. The one in front of him had a sneer across its face.
“Shall we go again, then?” Roper smiled. It was a smug smile, one that said he wasn’t overly worried by his first loss. On the surface of it, the clash looked a bad matchup. If the dragon was larger than the garj, the size difference was even more considerable here. Scott wasn’t too worried. If he had the estimates right, the scales would keep out all but the strongest of attacks. He knew those frogs were poisonous, but there was no way the poison could get through the scales.
With a beep sounding more ominous than normal, the video referee gave them the signal to resume and he gave the mental command for another blast of fire. Sangare’s jaws snapped open, the flames cutting a swathe through the icy battlefield, melting it into sludge. The frog jumped nimbly out of the way, opened its own mouth and sent a barrage of toxic stings out towards Sangare’s face. They were accurate, Scott flinched as he saw them land but not quite as much as he recoiled at the pained roar bursting from Sangare.
Shit! Eyes!
He could have kicked himself for not working that one out sooner.
Eyes on the battlefield below, Pete felt someone sit down next to him, only when he glanced to his left that he realised it was the Arnholt siblings, Matt and Mia to watch Scott in action. Getting here had been a laugh, with a lot of interest in this bout, there was little elbow room about him and he’d been offered various merchandise featuring the competitors outside the stadium. As much as a beer glass with his best friend’s face on it might have appealed, he’d managed to get up here with time to spare and crucially, all his credits in his pocket.
“Running a bit late, aren’t we?” he asked with a smile. “You’ve already missed the first knockout.”
He was only moderately disgusted to see Mia was wearing a t-shirt bearing Scott’s face on it, no doubt a product from one of the said opportunistic hawkers outside the stadium and carrying a flag with the words ‘Go Scott Go’ written on it. Seeing his friends face emblazoned across her tits wasn’t entirely something he wanted to see again. Matt looked moderately embarrassed to be seen next to her but hiding it well for the most part.
“What of it,” she demanded. “I think the important thing is we came. Who are you rooting for here?” Down on the battlefield, the frog dodged another blast of fire, one more wildly aimed than the previous.
Glancing back to the field, Pete wondered if Sangare’s vision had been damaged by that first blast. Something looked off, the fire being thrown around indiscriminately without a care for what was burned. The ice on the battlefield was almost exclusively a giant puddle of slushy water now, every motion sending ripples through it. If Scott had any gumption about him and if Sangare had been left blinded, then he’d be listening out for that. Whatever it was, he couldn’t see the frog winning through this. Sangare was powerful and all it needed was one solid hit to roast it where it stood.
“You know what I don’t understand,” Matt said. “If he’s had that dragon all the time, why the hells didn’t he use it earlier in the tournament, like when he was getting his ass handed to him by Bruzack?”
They didn’t come close to landing. A giant clawed foreleg came from nowhere and tore into the frog, almost ripping it into two. The audience erupted into a massive cheer as it hit the advertising hoardings with a thud, blood everywhere. Sangare didn’t look good. But it was a win and Scott looked pleased with himself about that.
“Damn,” Matt said. “Roper’s getting his ass kicked. Is he actually taking this bout seriously?” Around them, the announcer was asking the same question, bringing into doubt whether Roper was deliberately showing little concern to the outcome of the battle. He’d already qualified after all.
“Come on Scott,” Mia said, adjusting her shirt over her breasts. Rolling his eyes, Pete wondered if that was for the chance to get a close-up shot from the videocams filming the bout. It was admittedly an impressive chest. How Scott already wasn’t trying to make his way onto her, he didn’t know.
Idiot!
Roper’s final choice was a giant penguin whose appearance made Pete burst into laughter. “Seriously, come on! That’s ridiculous. We’ve got a dragon versus a giant overweight bird that couldn’t fly if you chucked it off a building. What do they think is going to happen here?” He cleared his throat, tried to regain some composure. It doubtless wasn’t that simple and he didn’t want to look like an idiot should the unlikely happen.
In about thirty seconds, the unlikely had happened. Where the frog’s claws likely wouldn’t have been able to cut through dragon skin, the sharpened edges of the penguin’s flippers had no such trouble. The first swipe went through the same foreleg responsible for ending the frog, breaking skin and separating bone with ease. As rich dark dragon blood sprayed the arena, Sangare let out a frenzied bellow and spat white hot fire towards the penguin who sprang into the air to evade the blast, retaliating with a crashing blast of water fired from its beak into Sangare’s face. As the dragon recoiled, it was like seeing it in slow motion as the penguin spun around gracefully in the air, flippers extended out like sabres as it aimed for the neck.