The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  He exhaled as Sangare coughed a great fireball into the bird’s face from point blank range, the squawk going from outraged to agonised in moments. By the time the fires died, the iron bird was still in the dragon’s grip, though its face now resembled a pile of twisted slag. If it could see, Scott didn’t know how, its eyes had either been melted shut or had exploded under the heat, one of the two. Still it twitched and struggled, small but he knew it was done for. Silently he urged Sangare to finish it and with minimal effort, the dragon heaved his forelegs powerfully towards the ground, the iron bird hurtling into battlefield like a broken metal bullet. Dust and stone rose up as it crashed, a great groove churned up by its impact as it scrawled limply through the dirt, half buried and unmoving.

  Holy shit…

  Scott blinked, not quite sure he’d exactly seen what had just taken place. Sure, Sangare was most likely his strongest spirit in terms of pure power. But he’d never expected it to go down that easily. One to him. Four more and he’d be victorious. This might be easier than expected, or maybe Steven was just testing him. He shot a glance at his opponent as he brought back his iron bird. He didn’t look too concerned by the matters that had transpired. Scott saw the disinterested look on his face and that, more than anything worried him. Either he was as cold as ice and he genuinely wasn’t worried, or there was something else going on here he couldn’t see yet. The first phase of some unforeseen strategy? Or maybe a common one. It wasn’t unusual for callers to start long bouts with their weakest and finish strong.

  I think I’ve got you worked out, Steven, he thought as the silver haired man locked in another crystal and prepared option number two. This was going to be by no means as easy as it looked like it might be. He couldn’t allow himself to get complacent.

  She’d gotten a very interesting message that morning, Darren Maddley offering apologies for what he’d said following their bout, admitting he was out of order and shouldn’t have done it. There’d been words towards about it being heat of the moment and rushes of blood but at least he’d accepted responsibility overall and she couldn’t fault him for that.

  On the balcony of her room, she sat cross legged and barefoot, eyes closed as she meditated. Her former teacher had always pushed it on her, told her when things felt murky, it was always wise to stop and think things through. On the move, things became jumbled and hurried. Here, she could mull over them properly. A deep breath and she opened herself up to the universe of her thoughts, the family Maddley at the forefront of them. Darren already looked better than his father, he composed himself in a far more appealing manner. Now she remembered back to Luke Maddley, she remembered the man he’d been and the revulsion she’d felt. So arrogant, so full of himself, she’d been glad when she’d crushed him…

  No, that hadn’t been right. She hadn’t cared at the time but looking back she felt disgust. That shouldn’t have been her way, revelling in his defeat and considering herself invincible was as bad as he had been. Yet at the same time, he’d had a family. He hadn’t been a bad man, somebody had missed him despite his obnoxious attitude to those he’d deemed weaker. Darren had obviously loved him, just like she loved Nick, even though she knew there were things he wasn’t telling her. Yet didn’t every relationship need its secrets? The past was the past and there was no changing that. There were things that she hadn’t told him about herself and didn’t intend to. The past was a long way gone and it was going to stay that way.

  Sometimes she thought about the past, what could have been and what had happened. It could all have been so different but here she was. A champion. Soon to be part of a union. So why did she feel that little hint of regret? A question she might never answer on her own. Sometimes she wished she could still talk to her former teacher. He hadn’t always had the answers, but he’d made her feel better about not knowing. He could do that, he’d had the gift. But he’d been long since lost out of touch, ever since the last Quin-C. Nobody knew where he was, but she was sure he wasn’t dead. If he had passed on, somehow, she was sure she’d know. As it was, she felt uncertainty and doubt in regards of him.

  Still he didn’t want to talk to her. He’d made that perfectly clear. Her life was her own to lead and he wanted her away from his. She absentmindedly pulled at the bracelet around her ankle and just for a moment, she thought she caught something on the wind, something jerking her eyes open.

  … Sharon…

  Somehow that closed it for her. She couldn’t find her focus after that. It couldn’t have been. She was imagining things, had to be. It didn’t even sound like him. Not at all. She sighed, reached down into her bag and scrabbled around the bottom for a moment. The memories prodded at her as she withdrew the metal cylinder with the rubberised grip from the bottom. It was about eight inches long, easily long enough for her to get both hands around it. Nick had seen it before, had inquired about it. Another half-truth. She’d told him it was a useless memento she’d picked up in Serran. True, of course, if not the whole story.

  He wouldn’t believe the whole story. Nobody would. She didn’t want to remember it herself, too much time had passed for her to go back to that place, even in her memories. It was all gone now. Never to return. That was for the better. Her life had changed, and she wasn’t unhappy with the way it had turned out. But always there’d be questions over that part of her life she would always wonder about. The past was like a river, currents spreading to affect the future, ripples producing tidal waves, Ruud Baxter had told her. At the time, she hadn’t known whether to believe him or not. Looking back in hindsight, she got the impression he might have been more correct than he would ever know.

  Sangare had fallen. As had Herc and Seasel but Scott wasn’t too worried. They’d proved themselves to be evenly matched by now, despite earlier misgivings, Sangare had dispatched the bird of course and weakened the next spirit, a large mollusc covered in a spike-ridden shell before being overcome by crushing jaws smashing through dragon scales with ease. Herc and Seasel’s combined efforts had done for said mollusc before Seasel had fought out a draw with Steven’s next spirit, a huge steel snake that had dwarfed him many, many times. Still, Scott had been pleased to see Seasel hadn’t been intimidated and ultimately the watery weasel had done well. Next choice? Crush. His giant orange crab appeared on the field while Steven’s next choice was a huge rhinoceros covered in what resembled steel battle armour, he’d noticed the recurring theme here. He liked a heavy defence, it would seem but at the same time he could deal it out. Herc and Sangare had found that out in their clashes with the mollusc.

  “Let’s do it then?” he said, grinning at Steven. With each of them having two spirits left, it felt like they were slouching towards sudden death. But at the same time, he was enjoying it. The most fun he’d had since Mia had been attacked… He rejected that thought violently. Now was not the time to be thinking about her. Already the rhino was charging, and instead he was thinking of ways to counter it. He could worry about Mia later. The ground beneath Crush’s feet churned as six hooked feet dug in, the crab bracing for impact. This likely wouldn’t be pretty but it was his only option. Somehow, he doubted Crush was quick enough to run a race with this thing. At this point, he didn’t want to draw the bout out. He needed it over quickly, stand and fight without taking risks. Not stupid ones. The sound of impact made him wince, neither of the two spirits were lightweights but he’d seen Crush being forced back by the power behind the charge.

  That, he found unsettling.

  “You do seem to have been a busy man since this started.”

  Nick looked up at the voice and fought the urge to salute as Terrence Arnholt strode past in casual clothes, his gaze towards the room where Wade lay unconscious, bandages across his face. They’d been coated in alska-salve, the hospital pulling out all the stops. Guess there were some slight perks to nearly being killed in action, he thought bitterly, trying to keep a lid on it.

  “Just doing my job, sir,” he said, proud of his efforts in sounding civi
l. “Besides, we got the call to action.”

  If he heard any bitterness, Arnholt didn’t acknowledge it. “What happened?”

  “Okay so Wade and I were talking, and we got a call from Agent Okocha saying there was a sighting of… Well something in the resort area. We were the closest, could we go have a look. Anyway, we went over, saw it and then it turned violent, looked like it was going for something else up there, we decided to investigate. And it escalated.”

  Arnholt nodded. “Things frequently do seem to escalate where you’re concerned.” It didn’t sound overtly critical, not until Nick played it back in his head. “At least you didn’t murder anyone this time.”

  “Heh.” Nick didn’t sound amused. Bringing up Blut didn’t help his mood. It was starting to feel like no matter what he did, it would linger around his neck like a bloody millstone. It had happened in the past. He’d been dealt with over it. They could let it go now. But no, people kept mentioning it. They always missed the point as well. Sure, he’d died. But it had been a key sacrifice, so others wouldn’t. He’d only been thinking of the bigger picture. Doubtless that was what had saved him, it had achieved results. So why did he still feel uneasy about the whole thing?

  “Yeah. He’ll be fine. Just needs a few days of alska treatment for burns. That bitch hit his dragon with a uniblast at point blank range, it took him out. Nearly hit the ground pretty hard but I managed to catch him.”

  “Yes?” Somehow, he knew what Arnholt was about to ask next. And he wasn’t disappointed by it. “And you let the suspect flee the scene?”

  “I didn’t let her.” He’d already considered this more than he wanted to admit, and it hurt knowing Arnholt had a point. Could he have… Maybe… So many variables had come into play. The woman had had distance on him and her spirit was no slouch. Could he have caught her? No way of saying. “I made a decision under fire. There were a thousand other things I could have done and whatever I decided to do, we’d have been having this conversation. If I’d let him fall and failed to catch her, it’d have been worse. If I’d let him fall and caught her, it’d be the death of my partner on my conscience.”

  “And now you’ve let her go, what happens next is on you? How does the weight of her future acts hold on your conscience?”

  “I’ll let you know when the future comes to pass,” Nick said solemnly. “I don’t hold guilt for maybes. I’ve got enough for stuff I have done without worrying about maybes. Even if we had caught her, what’s the penalty for unauthorised spirit battling in the street? A five hundred credit fine at most? What difference would it make?”

  “It’s not your job to decide what should be enforced and what shouldn’t,” Arnholt said severely. “And it wasn’t just that, was it?” He left the rest unsaid, something Nick was privately relieved at.

  “I know. I know.”

  “You talk to the victim?”

  “Not yet,” Nick said. “Truth be told, I’d rather not. But I will.”

  “Rather not?” Arnholt raised an eyebrow.

  “Luke Maddley’s kid. Been saying some stuff about my fiancé. Might find the temptation to give him a smack in the mouth a little too tempting.”

  “I trust you can remain professional?” Somehow Arnholt managed to keep the linger of a threat there in his voice and Nick smiled.

  “Always professional,” he said. “It’s me. Don’t worry about me keeping my personal feelings in the way of duty. I’ll talk with Maddley, see if I can catch anything that’ll get us to this bitch.” To that, he couldn’t miss the small smirk on his boss’s face.

  “Hence why Wade’s in the hospital rather than the morgue and our cells are empty rather than having a perp in there.”

  That stung a little, but he held his tongue. Anyone else, he’d really have toyed with taking a swing at. He’d have enjoyed that. Especially if it were someone capable of fighting back. It had been too long since he’d taken a punch.

  “Good trade I think,” Nick said. “We don’t have so many agents as to throw them away on stuff like that. I think you’re right. It shouldn’t have escalated the way it did. Maybe we could have handled it differently.”

  “It’s a bit late for recrimination,” Arnholt said stiffly.

  “Not a lot I can do about that,” Nick replied.

  “You know; I’m starting to worry about your judgement while out here. Your decisions lately, they’ve been questionable.”

  “If you don’t want me in the field,” Nick said. “You’ve only got to say. You want me to resign, Director?”

  That changed the atmosphere. Nick sighed and leaned against the wall, looking through the window. Of course, Wade was going to be fine. A few burns, nothing serious, Will Okocha was already concocting a story about how he’d been hurt in the explosion at the ICCC building. If anything, he was glad that Arnholt hadn’t brought THAT up. Because that was the real crux of the matter. That woman on the leather bird-thing had only fled and attacked because he and Wade had charged in. If they’d done things differently, it might not have happened. And right now, he felt worse about that than he did Wade’s injuries. None of it should have happened.

  “Terrence,” he said slowly. Because it wasn’t just this. It was the whole Blut thing as well, those memories hadn’t left him and even knowing it was the right thing t didn’t help. In a fight, it was easier. You didn’t remember the faces when you shot at someone in the dark. You could shove it all down. Blut, there’d been no clear threat from him, just babblings he’d interpreted. It all felt worse given he’d gotten away with it. Knowing you’d done right didn’t make things easier.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say. For once in my life, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’d follow my judgement, but we’ve seen where that’s been getting me lately.” He sighed again. Arnholt said nothing. “Look I mean I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

  “The job? Or everything with it?” Arnholt’s question cut to the crux of the issue and he had to admit he was right. Which was it? He’d never had a problem with the job before. He knew there was a chance he might be killed in action. And yet it had never bothered him like the other stuff did, living with the consequences of action, the idea his identity might be compromised, maybe it just wasn’t worth it.

  “I don’t know anymore. When I see Wade like that, I think it could be me. On another day, it might have been. I’m getting married in a few months, Terrence and…” He paused, shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know how you did it. How you managed to sustain a marriage and kids for all the time you have.”

  Arnholt nodded. “It is a sad fact in our line of work that men and women with no attachment make the most effective operatives. Those who have nobody to live for. It doesn’t always apply but the few times it doesn’t are often the exceptions that prove the rule. Those who have something to lose are never quite as fearless in the face of the unknown. Yet I always looked it a different way, you know. That fear makes you faster, stronger, sharper. You have something to cling to. A reason to keep going when everything seems hopeless. Because it’s never hopeless. You have a job to do and it needs doing no matter the odds. Do or die. You should know by now that those are the choices.”

  Nick nodded slowly. “I’m still not entirely sure, you know. I’ve been doing this a long time now, recently it feels like the job is… Not getting harder, that’s the wrong term. But I can’t quite explain it. It’s like carrying a great weight. I knew it wasn’t going to get easier to deal with the longer I went on.”

  “Nick,” Arnholt said. “You’re a good agent. I don’t want to lose you. But if you’re no longer able to function properly in the field…” His voice took on a hard edge. “You’re useless to me. Consider yourself on leave. Get your head sorted out and if you don’t wish to stay then don’t. But I think leaving would be a waste of your considerable talents. We need you. We will continue to need people like you.”

  That had never occurred to him. Leave Unisco? Could he do that? Would h
e want to? The rumours about the crucible exit existed, sure, though he doubted they were true. Not if Arnholt was giving him an ultimatum. He didn’t want to leave. He owed them more than he could pay back But, given the events of not just the last few weeks but the last few months, he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to stay either. The Hobb incident had nearly done for him, seeing what had happened to Lysa in the build-up and nearly dying so many times over at the hands of people he should have been able to trust.

  “I know you do. And I’ve never walked away from a fight. There’s no need to send me on leave. I’ll…”

  “Only until the tournament is over. Think about it. That’s all I’m telling you,” Arnholt said. “No need to surrender your weapon and your badge. I just don’t want to see you again after you deliver your report on this incident. Nick, this isn’t punishment. It’s necessity.”

  Just because that might be the case didn’t stop it feeling like it was punishment. He sighed and offered a hand. “I know. I guess this is goodbye for now then.” Arnholt shook it and smiled sadly.

  “For now. Remember, I don’t want to lose your services. But you must do what’s best for you. Distractions will get you killed. It’s all or nothing. Either you’re with us or you’re not. Think about that, Nick.”

  As he turned to the room where Wade lay unconscious, Nick inwardly blanched. To be removed from active duty for the time being, even if it wasn’t permanent felt a kick in the balls, no matter how Arnholt might deliver it. He stood up and made for the exit, not looking back at his boss. Besides a holiday from work might be just the thing he needed. It had been too long, he knew that much.

  The rhino went down, one of Crush’s claws embedded into its skull and Scott punched the air. Four down one to go and for the first time in the bout, Steven looked a little concerned as he watched his spirit go back to its crystal. This could be fantastic. He was on the verge. All that stood in his way was one final hurdle. He could do this, scratch that, he would do it. No excuses.