The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  “Attention!” The voice was distorted, warped beyond humanity into a deep bio-mechanical drone. “You down there with the big bird-wolf thing. Recall your spirit now on the grounds of public disturbance and unauthorised bouting in a residential area without a licence. Kneel on the ground and prepare to be detained.”

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Suffice to say that wouldn’t be happening. At least they were being polite about the whole thing.

  “And step away from that kid as well,” the other said, the difference in the voice distinct but still unrecognisable as anything human. This time she couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her gesture, she turned and nodded to Tac. The taccaridon rose onto its hind legs with one sudden motion, jaws snapping open and both enemy spirits had to quickly take evasive action at the uniblast careening towards them, the energy blast sailing wide. Before they could recover their composure, painfully aware of how exposed she was on this suddenly very small rooftop, she sprang to Tac and was on board as the great beast took to the sky.

  She was under no illusion that this would be the end of it. Already the orange dragon was closing in on her, pushing itself through the air after Tac with ease. A quick mental command and Tac lashed out with its tail, swiping through the air at to its face. It didn’t go quite close enough to land but the danger was there, enough to stagger the charge. She’d learnt that a long time ago. When facing dragons, always aim for the eyes. A small target but a sensitive one. The spannerhead swooped over next, bursting past the dragon and she saw the hint of a uniblast charging up, lingering gobs of energy already forming around the mouth and she pushed Tac into a dive, the blast screeching wide and dissipating.

  Down and down the two of them went, she and the spirit closing in on the ground, she could see the people far below them, realisation dawning slowly. Some of them pointed, others ran, she just heard the beat of wings. Still she fell, she wondered how good the two Unisco agents were. Better to overestimate them than otherwise. Still Tac fell in the dive, she allowed herself a glance back at her pursuers and slowly, she counted one, two, three, four…

  Up!

  She felt the tug of the wind dragging her hair behind her head as Tac evened out, curving harshly back into the air and suddenly where they had been falling, they were rising. She didn’t allow herself a look back, she could still hear them, heard mechanical curses from behind her and smiled. An annoyed opponent was a reckless opponent, her father once said.

  A sudden roar, her smile was wiped away as something hot and acrid whipped past her cheek, she froze and almost fell from Tac’s back in shock. Her knuckles went white as she gripped the skin, desperate not to lose hold. Her cheek burned, she resisted the urge to clap a hand against it. That smell… She’d never smelled her own flesh burning before. Didn’t like it. She wasn’t worried about it, there were treatments for it, far more pressing was the need to get out of here as quickly as possible, so she could have the treatment. Silently she urged Tac on that little bit faster, the spirit already working to the maximum.

  Still the two Unisco agents kept coming. She could fly with the best of them and they were matching her. She stole a look back, this time the orange dragon was charging up a uniblast to aim in her direction, she took evasive manoeuvres back into the mezzanine of buildings far below. This would have been better amidst the skyscrapers of a major city, here the buildings barely came up above two storeys at most but if she could stop them taking long range shots at her, that’d be an improvement. While she fled, she was defenceless. The most she could do was…

  Hmm…

  A stray thought flashed across her mind as Tac raced along barely six feet above the surface of the ground, the dragon riders still above and behind her but holding back now. Her cheek stung, she tried to put it out of her mind as she stared ahead to the gleaming building so out of place with the rest of the island. They’d insisted that it be built first and be among the finest of them on the island. What more could you expect from the ICCC? Their building was just as monstrous and grotesque as some of the egos inside it. Egos she’d cajoled into holding a prestigious tournament in one of the most dangerous regions in the five kingdoms.

  Sorry boys, she mouthed at the building, a grin passing across her as she realised truly how little she meant it. You knew the risks. And if this didn’t distract them, nothing would.

  They couldn’t have expected the potency of the uniblast that ripped from Tac and crashed into the ICCC building, punching straight through with explosive force, flames already feeding, screams and wails of terror filling the void of silence left by the blast. Laughing manically, she kicked Tac into the air, the taccaridon rising at her urging. Come on, come on, come on…

  Something flashed in the corner of her eye, something large, she could feel the orange dragon closing in on her, wings pumping vigorously and still it looked comfortable, like it wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Did dragons sweat? It threw out a claw, tried to nail her, would have done had Tac not woven out the way with a screech of outrage. That outrage turned to retribution, Tac swung its head and bit down on the dragon’s foreleg. Only the density of dragon scale kept it from biting straight through and even then, she wouldn’t have bet against the teeth winning out, given time. But the spannerhead was incoming and reluctantly she drove Tac to let go. The orange dragon, a species she couldn’t place amidst the heat of battle, didn’t give her the same respite and body checked Tac, favouring its wounded foreleg. She could see blood, the last thing she saw before she was nearly thrown from Tac’s back by the impact, she felt the spirit waver beneath her and she dug her nails deeper into the skin, chest hammering. Her scarf whipped about amidst the sharp twists and with a rip, tore away from her face, she couldn’t pull it back, needed to hold on. If she fell…

  Instinctively she mentally screamed out the command to duck and Tac wove beneath the flail of the spannerhead’s claws that might have taken her head off if she hadn’t. Tac lunged, went for the serpentine neck with the teeth and it took a sudden reverse back from the spannerhead to avoid it, the motion nearly pitching the rider off.

  The strangest thing she had to admit was, she was enjoying herself. Glee flooded her system and although she was breathing hard, it was exhilaration pumping through her lungs and her blood. She could feel Tac’s emotions through their connection, a mirror of her own. Only Orange remained close in, Tac swung a wing to drive spirit and rider back and hissed angrily through bared fangs before lunging and suddenly the orange dragon was on the run from her, fleeing past her, past the smoking ICCC building and she followed, the adrenaline singing in her veins. Where the spannerhead was, she couldn’t say. She didn’t care, this was intense. Suddenly chasing rather than running, Tac easily caught the orange dragon, this time going for the rider. Or that would have been the plan, if the mount hadn’t twisted out the way, protecting its caller with every motion. Even that worked for her, if it was defending, then it couldn’t attack. At these speeds, one of them would make a mistake. She just had to hope it wasn’t her.

  In close, Tac raked a claw across Orange’s haunch, drawing blood and a roar of outrage, enough to bring the orange dragon rounding on her. Orange smashed its skull into Tac’s side, barely inches from her leg locked around the neck and she let out a strangled sound halfway between disbelief and joy. Nearly but so bloody far away! Tac shook itself, not a decisive blow but one aimed well. Perhaps movement wasn’t as fluid as seconds ago, maybe some rib damage, but still enough to escape.

  Escape… Somewhere amidst the thrill of the battle, the fight for survival so long missing from her day to day life, a little voice clamoured at the back of her mind. Escape. Need to escape. Get out of here. You can’t win this fight now. Maybe you never could. The important thing is survival. Just run now!

  She wasn’t sure escape was an option as things stood. Not with Tac’s movements suddenly laboured and clumsy. An evasive motion that might have been pulled off with ease moments ago suddenly became a near miss as the spanner
head closed in at speeds almost parallel to her own and only just missed clamping down on one of Tac’s wings.

  Time to end this. She directed Tac down, then up again in a sharp motion, it might get the spannerhead off her back for the moment. But not Orange. No, that’d need to be her distraction. She wondered if the two agents were good friends, if they were devoted to duty or if they’d behave like human beings.

  Time to find out. The spannerhead dived, the orange dragon rose with her and that was the opening she needed as Tac span and slashed a claw at its throat. It was a good slash, she had to admit, it did exactly what she intended, made it jerk back to evade. She’d seen that coming and it gave her the opening as the rider steadied his mount.

  Game over!

  Too late he noticed the orange energy forming at Tac’s jaws, a fleeting half second to charge and the blast struck Orange hard in the chest, she saw the rider throw his arms in front of his face as he lost his grip on the falling dragon, both rider and spirit suddenly falling.

  She didn’t even look back as Tac shot away from the scene of engagement, if the spannerhead followed her, she’d have to deal with it but hopefully, it would have more important things to deal with.

  Nick Roper swore angrily and directed Carcer after the falling Wade, his body limp as he tried and failed to find something to cling onto. Maybe he was trying for his airloop, but with his cloak aflame, it looked a losing battle.

  He should go after the woman and her creature, but she was already gone. If he didn’t react, Wade would die. The wind tore against his face, through his hair as Carcer bulleted after the falling man and he took a deep breath.

  Almost there…

  Nearly…

  Nearly…

  Now!

  He jumped, the realisation as to how dumb the idea was flashing through his head before he left his mount and swung out his arms, the feeling of falling catching him quickly. Grabbing Wade with Carcer moving at top speed could cause irreparable damage and it was a chance he hadn’t been willing to take.

  Nope, now he was risking his own life. That was infinitely better. He was falling too quick to be dry with his wit, desperate to grab Wade, his arm inches from his hand, the ground quickly approaching them, he couldn’t delay any longer. He pushed himself, his muscles screaming against the wind resistance and caught an arm, grimacing as flames licked his legs and clapped his fingers against the button on the inside of his palm, not a strong slap but enough to achieve the desired effect. His own cape flared out, stiff against the wind rushing to meet him, catching the draft and gradually he felt his descent slow. By the time the two of them hit ground, it was only with a bump rather than a crunch.

  For the whole time, he’d been holding his breath. Back on solid ground, he finally exhaled and dropped to his knees, the adrenaline slowly slipping away as he let Wade gently down to the ground. Not easy carrying someone as tall as you, even if they weren’t as heavy. Already he heard the klaxons of emergency speeders approaching and he brought a finger to his ear. Trying to maintain portable comm contact amidst a high-speed chase was hard. He hadn’t bothered, lest he be distracted.

  “So, Will,” he said slowly. “You want the good news or the bad news?” He licked his lips, tasted the coppery tang of blood. “You might want to get a speeder over here right now. Emergency one. Agent down!”

  Leaning back in his seat, Scott tried to ignore the sounds outside. It likely wasn’t important, someone had probably gotten a little too merry and had an impromptu spirit bout in the street. Some places that was more legal than others but nowhere was completely happy with it. The general rule of thumb went, the more civilised a place was, the more they tended to be against it happening. It was only when he heard explosions and sirens he sat up and took note. Already he was starting to arrive at the conclusion this tournament was becoming memorable for all the wrong reasons. Not least just for him but for everyone involved. Storms to psychos to break-ups to explosions. Maybe he’d made a bad choice coming here. It should have been one of the proudest moments of his life so and he’d found himself wondering if things were going to calm down.

  Either way, all he could do was keep on going and hope for the best. If it didn’t affect him, it was fine by him. Mia was out of hospital, but she hadn’t let him see her. Bang went another dream. He sighed again, looked back to the screen. Wade Wallerington had won earlier in the day, Sharon had also gone through. Maybe they’d be drawn against each other in the next round and he’d catch a break there.

  Somehow, he couldn’t quite picture it. All he could do though now, was focus on Steven Silver and the challenges in front of him.

  Chapter Five. Silver and Sight.

  “The family Silver… Yeah they used to have credits. Rich as the hells. Now, not so much. Tends to be the way, you know. You have that many generations of frivolous relatives frittering away the credits… Yep, they get frittered right out of existence. They were pretty much royalty in their part of Serran. The Unifications War hit them hard. Steven Silver’s true title is Baron Silver of Calism. Doesn’t use it much anymore.”

  An oral account of his next opponent heard by Scott Taylor.

  The eighth day of Summerpeak.

  The atmosphere was heaving, almost as hot as the midday sun bearing on the battlefield, stone and gravel heating beneath its rays. It looked crumbly and Scott imagined the first impact would kick dust into the air. He’d need to watch out. A lot of spirits still needed to be able to see and introducing dry dust into the air would be a problem. Still, at least it’d hurt his opponent as much as him. Steven Silver stood across the arena, almost regal in his pose, hands in the pockets of his suit trousers. They went with his waistcoat, dark grey with pinpricked white stripes the length of them. Beneath it, he wore a cream coloured shirt and a scarlet tie, his hair as silver as his name.

  Scott wondered if Steven Silver was really the name he’d been given at birth by his parents. Changing names wasn’t an uncommon thing, he’d seen many times before. He didn’t know much about him other than him being from Serran, he was supposedly a bit aristocratic, if he believed that guy he’d heard talking about him, and had a reputation as something of an explorer and expert in rare stones? Did that mean golems? He hoped not. He’d had enough of them with Santo Bruzack earlier in the tournament. The fewer golems he saw, the happier he would be. Some callers went through life without seeing any and knowing his luck now, he’d probably see several in a few weeks.

  Five spirits. Not too short, not too long. That had been the instructions from the video referee and he could deal with that. He liked that they didn’t tell you how many spirits you’d be using until the last minute. It prevented prior strategies being used against you by those who really liked to think things through. There was a certain simple delight to be had in taking it on the hoof. And sure, Scott noted, he did like to see what his opponent might use against him spirit-wise. And tactics-wise. But that was the extent of it. To come up with solid tactics to counter someone’s best wasn’t something he felt comfortable about. Some callers swore by it. He knew there was probably something in it. If he was honest with himself, there was probably a lot in it. He missed the days of ‘you bring your best and I’ll bring my best and we’ll see who comes out on top.’ Those felt a long time ago.

  All the pleasantries came and went, he’d heard them so many times now they felt etched into the matter of his brain. Scott smiled politely at Steven who nodded and tipped him a wave. All very nice and civilised. Not like that bout between Pete’s sister and that weird kid the other day. That had been nasty. Nothing like seeing an arrogant piece of shit get what was coming to them and seeing Sharon smack him down had been decidedly pleasurable. Now if Theo Jameson would go the same way, he’d be happy.

  Still, no time to reflect on that now. Steven’s first choice in spirit was a bird the size of a four-person speeder, skin covered in a grey metallic sheen. As it landed on taloned feet twice the size of human hands, it opened its beak and le
t out a horrible mechanical-sounding squawk which made him want to cover his ears. How manoeuvrable could something like that be in the sky? He got the impression he was going to find out as he summoned Sangare to the field, the dragon proudly spitting out a burst of flames as he appeared, wings kicking up dust.

  This would be an interesting matchup. If Steven was worried, he didn’t show it. Come on, five to go. Knock those five out, he’d be through. No doubt it sounded so much easier than it would be. Still, if he was going to do it then he’d need to do it now. The signal to get going sounded, already Sangare was in motion at his behest, a gout of fire erupting from his jaws to engulf the iron bird. Yet it appeared Steven was no slouch with the commands either as his spirit took two haltering steps and then hopped into the sky, flaring out its wings to take flight. Scorched earth remained where it had stood a moment ago. Already Sangare was into the sky after the bird. It did fly well, he had to admit, but that wasn’t going to save it.

  At his silent command, Sangare struck again with a pillar of fire ripping through the air with vicious intent. Once more the attack failed, the iron bird ducked under the flames and cut through the air in a lazy dip picking up pace as it came towards Sangare. Scott caught the sight of the flames fizzling out on the barrier out the corner of his eyes, before he reacted, Sangare thrusting upwards to evade the pointed beak directed towards his scale covered heart.

  He didn’t doubt the strength of dragon scale but too many bouts had proven it to be not quite as impenetrable as widely believed. He’d had it disproven in one of his own bouts, not that it mattered now. The iron bird was in sight, in range and he gave the command. Sangare obeyed, still a new enough occurrence to make him feel a tingle of pleasure at his own efforts, reaching to grab broad iron wings with his forelegs, thick claws digging into sturdy metal and once more he heard that horrible screech as the iron bird struggled to get away.