The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  “Hope you weren’t expecting that from me, mate,” Pete quipped as they broke away. Mia playfully hit him on the arm.

  “Go,” she said. “Be fabulous. Win. We’ll all be cheering you on.”

  “Better be,” Scott grinned. “Bye guys. We’ll have big celebrations after, yeah?”

  Oh Divines! Theo stepped out onto the field, saw the podium was all set up and the great and the good of the ICCC already milling about waiting for their cue. The great and the good part meant entirely ironically. He rolled his eyes, stuck his hands into his pockets and made a conscious decision he wasn’t going to share the limelight with them if he could help it. Instead he strode to his caller area, mindful he wasn’t going to do it anonymously as a great cheer broke out to greet him as he strode across the field, a hundred thousand people screaming his name. It wasn’t unpleasant. He’d already made up his mind he was going to savour every moment today, no matter the result.

  The battlefield itself was bare, not a hint of grass or ice or stone upon it as there had been in previous rounds. It didn’t matter, a battlefield was a battlefield, he’d conquer it. He’d left Anne behind in his locker room, she’d given him a small kiss on the cheek which had felt nice, her breath warm on his neck, her lips soft against day-old stubble. In the excitement, he’d forgotten to shave. Too much on his mind. Most of the ICCC delegation he didn’t recognise, he knew of Ritellia and Thomas Jerome, no mistaking those two men, little and large stood side by side at the podium, chatting with each other as if they didn’t have a care in the world. If the rumours were true, he was surprised by how stress-free Ritellia looked. He also recognised Adam Evans stood behind them, a serene look as he examined the arena around them, focusing on the crowd. Evans always gave the impression he knew exactly what was going on, more than that, he looked like he cared about what was going on.

  His opponent had emerged, closer to the stage than Theo was, but that was up to him. He’d looked it up, there was nothing in the rules saying he had to pander to the dignitaries, that he was aware of. If he could avoid the slimy piece of shit, then he gladly would. Ritellia had that look about him that given the chance he’d be able to offend all five senses. Theo had no desire to even speak to him.

  The klaxon horn broke out over the stadium, having the sobering effect of silencing the crowd, making Theo jump and he cursed the idiot who’d decided to play it. No doubt they were killing themselves laughing somewhere at the way their action had gotten a reaction. He clenched his fists, kept them at his side but secretly wanted to go for his summoner. Ritellia broke away from Jerome, a big sickly grin on his face if the giant screen atop the stadium was accurate. He bent down, picked up the microphone and turned his great body to look at the crowd, one part of the stadium at a time. Someone booed him, a few ripples of laughter broke out. Theo was close enough to see the flash of annoyance on his face. Still he didn’t let it put him off as he started to speak. Far in the crowd, another one yelled traitor. That garnered even more of a reaction but still he stayed professional.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the five kingdoms,” he said, his voice hoarse. He didn’t sound well, Theo noted. Maybe he’d gotten off his deathbed for this. Everyone could only hope, to say that Ritellia wasn’t well liked was an understatement. The master of self-interest and all that. “Has it really been six weeks since I first stood before you to announce this magnificent tournament was about to get underway? I can’t believe it has, how quickly the time does fly when the good times are rife. We’ve all enjoyed it, I hope, we’ve seen some exciting moments and some sadness as well. I can only hope the good outweighs the bad when it comes to remembering this landmark event. We can never wholly forget those who have been lost to us during this time, nor should we. But…” It sounded insincere even to Theo who folded his arms and rolled his eyes, aware even now a picture box was probably picking up his reaction. He didn’t care. His disrespect wasn’t to the dead but to the hollow words given out by Ritellia. “But that was then, and this is now. In a few short hours, it’ll all be over for another five years, five years of uncertainty and strife. I can only hope our prestigious entertainment provides solace in the hard times to come, that the memories of what we produced can be a reminder harsh times come and go but we all endure.

  Endurance is the only way to describe our two young competitors. Nobody had ever heard of them before the start of the tournament, indeed one of them only came in as a wild card entry and while some of us might have hoped for two more established names to be fighting it out to the finish, I’m sure these two combatants will give their all and make it a final to remember. Neither of them has anything to fear. Except defeat.” His face split into a smile, as if he were expecting laughter from the crowd. If he was, he was to be sorely disappointed. Deathly silence followed his quip. Eye rolling had turned into head shaking now from Theo, how dare the fat bastard criticise him and that Taylor kid for daring to make the final ahead of someone with a bigger name. Reading between the lines of what he’d said, it was all he could do not to stride on the stage and whack him upside of the head. But that’d create headlines for all the wrong reasons and being arrested would probably mean he automatically had to forfeit the match. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had taken a swing at Ritellia during the last few weeks, he could remember Nick Roper doing it at Arventino’s funeral and he’d laughed himself stupid.

  “So, I’m sure that’s what we all want to see, and thank you for humouring an old man with the time to speak,” Ritellia said. “I give you Scott Taylor and Theobald Jameson. But first, a song for the brave and the departed, a song for the young and those whose desire burns hot in their hearts. A prayer and a memory. I give you Teri-Lyn Quick.”

  Theo almost choked. Now he’d seen it all, the president of the ICCC introducing a singer to the stage. Then again, he remembered it was standard, now he thought about it. Always happened. Always they started with a song. His thoughts had been elsewhere the last several hours, this couldn’t have been further from his interest if it’d tried.

  Teri-Lyn Quick was in her mid-twenties, her ice blond hair a sharp contrast to her coffee coloured skin. She wore a white dress that shimmered with blue and green as she strode out to the centre of the battlefield, Theo’s eyes following her every high-heeled footstep. Overall, he wasn’t a great fan of music, but even he had to admit she had a great voice. Figures they’d get someone local to sing the tournament’s closing song. On the big screen above, it showed a close-up of her thick sensuous lips lined with a scarlet gloss and her perennially innocent-looking grey eyes rimmed with black, the silver stud in her nose glinting in the afternoon sun. “Hey, y’all,” she said in an accent not entirely local. Theo was surprised. There was some Premesoiran in her by the sounds of it. “Got this for y’all to hear. The last chance I’ll ever take. Enjoy and peace out. Love each other.” The crowd went wild for her, more than they had done for anything Ritellia had had to say. And then she started to sing.

  “Fire walk with me

  Come save me from the days

  Take me home, take me high

  You and I, we’ll see the sky

  Drift so high and spread the sun

  Feel it burn against our skin

  You’ll say my name, I’ll melt away

  Save the passion for just one more day

  The nights are cold and you’re burning hot

  Your memories are all I have

  The good, the bad, the not so cool

  Reach in and spread the word

  Him and me, you know we’re through

  Divines smile, they want me to

  But you, you’re all I need to set me free

  The last chance I’ll ever take.”

  A lot of the crowd were on their feet, forming a sea of waving arms, Theo found he was tapping his foot along with it, surprising him more than he wanted to admit.

  “Battles come, and battles go

  Women cry, and men bellow

  Fires burn,
passions hot, you and me

  We just keep firing, ashes in the sky

  All we want, we just can’t have

  Because baby, we’re just passing through

  Through life, through love, through ecstasy

  Better believe, you won’t take the sky from me

  It’s our time to be so young and just so old

  Freak like me, monster like you

  The last face I’ll see when the lights go out

  The way it should be.

  You can do it if you really try.

  Take everything I am, make it your own.

  Divines smile, they want me to.

  You’re all I need to set me free

  You’ll be the last chance I ever take.”

  It was an abridged version of the song, Scott noticed. Not that he cared. If it was meant to psych him up for a fighting mood, it had probably had the opposite effect, he’d found it rather sobering, truth be told. Still that was it. Time to go. Ritellia and the dignitaries had already made their way off the battlefield, a few dozen locals moving the stage and the podium. It’d be where the trophy was presented to the winner. Baxter had given it back, Theo had missed that. He wanted to be stood up there so badly, it hurt like he’d been stabbed in the stomach. He couldn’t leave anything behind. Scott looked out into the crowd, out to the area where Pete and Mia and his friends all should be sat but he couldn’t see them individually.

  This was where it ended. He found his poise and made his choice. A strong start from a spirit that had never let him down yet. No regrets. He stared across the plain floor of the battlefield and drew a deep breath. The video referee had gone through all the rigmarole; they were giving him the all clear to make his first choice. He had to pick first. Of course, he did. Hopefully the only setback he’d face. “Okay Palawi,” he muttered. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three. Final Battles.

  “Finals are usually tense, cagey affairs. It’s very important not to lose early on and fighters pick up on it, adjust their tactics accordingly. I don’t expect this one to be different.”

  Prideaux Khan before the Quin-C final.

  The ninth day of Summerfall.

  His opponent went canine as well, bringing out a huge one-eyed wolf that dwarfed Palawi in size. The dog immediately bared his teeth, small needles compared to the giant knife-like fangs filling the wolf’s mouth, the first of six spirits he had to knock out to get the trophy. Scott had seen this beast before, he remembered the semi-final when Theo had used it against Kitti Sommer and her svartwolf. So therefore, in theory, he knew what to expect. Of course, he reflected as the buzzer went, knowing what to expect and dealing with it were two different things. The one-eyed wolf tore across towards Palawi the moment the starting buzzer went, and he grit his teeth. If it was going to charge at them like that…

  Charge away!

  That last part went out to Palawi who obliged with a blast of electricity straight into the wolf at point blank range, the charge rupturing through the lupine and Scott held his breath for a moment as he saw its legs buckle. Surely it wouldn’t be that easy.

  It wasn’t. He shouldn’t have expected it to be. Even with spasming muscles and burns across its pelt, the wolf managed to get back up and bare blackened teeth at Palawi in anger, its one good eye twitching. Theo looked furious, maybe not with Palawi but most likely with himself. Scott let his breath go, already turning over strategies in his mind. He wasn’t about to go rushing in, not against something bigger and stronger than Palawi, he held no illusion it couldn’t rip his dog apart given a chance. Maybe best just to hold back, hit the thing with counter attacks. It wasn’t immune to electricity, but it was going to take a fair few blasts to down it. The one-eyed wolf continued to growl, jaws half open, Scott felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck, his instincts telling him one thing.

  Move! Now!

  Palawi lunged to the side, the split second before a uniblast ripped from those jaws and shot across the arena, tearing a huge gouge in the ground where the dog had been holding position. Scott swore under his breath; immensely grateful he’d caught it just in time. He’d seen the faint glow on the wolf’s breath, he’d expected something like it to come, relieved he had. He couldn’t let it slide, a blast of electricity swept back towards the one-eyed wolf who nimbly skipped out the way and then charged again.

  It took a few moments to build up that charge, Scott knew, maybe another half second to direct it. He’d dug himself into a hole here. Palawi had spent a blast of electricity towards the opponent and was now defenceless until he could go again, Theo clearly had some idea of that, making the most of his chance to attack. His wolf bore down on the dog, jaws opening impossibly wide. It almost felt like he could swallow Palawi without the need to chew if he had to. At Scott’s mental command, Palawi lunged out the way in one uneasy motion, felt the jaws snap. The dog sprang back in, ducked under the muzzle and landed a series of bites across the wolf’s stomach, scarlet staining his head and back as the wolf snarled, twisting to try and get him. Palawi leaped, bit down on the wolf’s tail and twisted hard, bone breaking and flesh ripping away. Scott winced as the pained howl broke through the air and a fresh spray of crimson spurted through the air.

  Nice one, Pal, he thought. I think you just pissed it off even more.

  His spirit spat the tail out, saw it bounce away and then the one-eyed wolf was back on him, jaws snapping ferociously to try and get any sort of purchase onto him. It was all Scott could do to keep urging the dog to keep running, tire it out, don’t let it bite down onto you or you will be in trouble. Running away wasn’t the manliest way to win a tournament but at the same time, it made it very hard to lose in a stupid manner which was infinitely more important. No spirit caller alive would have sacrificed a victory at the expense of style. Winning pretty was one thing but only one of those words was the key one. The stump where the wolf’s tail had once been still bled bad, crimson spurting from the wound, maybe he could wait it out. The more it ran, the faster its heart pumped, the more its heart pumped, the more blood went rushing around the body and straight out again. Not pretty but effective.

  It looked like it was slowing, looked fatigued and out of breath. It came to a halt, one front leg buckled underneath it and Scott paused, suddenly wary. This could be it. He felt a surge of glee rush through him. Oh yeah, this was the way to do it. Palawi turned, rocked about and fresh sparks of static ran through his fur making it stand upright for a moment before he unleashed another thunderous blast of electricity straight towards the wolf who howled in anguish as the blast ripped through its body.

  Incredibly the lupine was still standing as the glow faded and the crowd went silent. They couldn’t believe it, Scott couldn’t believe it. It appeared the only one in the stadium who could was the wolf’s caller, Theo stood with a smug expression on his face. What exactly he had to be so smug about, Scott wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if he could do much more from here. Either way, he still had Palawi moving on tippy claws ready to spring aside if a uniblast came his way.

  It didn’t. Apparently staying upright for those extra few seconds was more than the wolf could stomach and it hit the ground dead, fur charred and smoking.

  Yes! Scott fought the urge to punch the air, even as the crowd cheered the first knockout. This might go his way after all.

  Emotionless.

  That was the best way to describe his opponent as he stood impassive in the afternoon sun and for all intents and appearances, he didn’t have a care left in him. Theo looked calm, even restful and just for a moment, Scott wondered what he had up his sleeve. The videos he’d seen of him in the past showed him angry and twitchy on the battlefield but there was none of that here. Here, he was the picture of serenity.

  His next spirit towered over Palawi and even the two callers, Scott blanched as it rose to its full height and stretched out two powerful arms. This one was new to him; he knew what it was, but he’d never fought one before. I
ts body was squat, dumpy even despite its great size, but the skin couldn’t be called dull, not with the rich gold and black fur covering the powerful muscles. Thick claws extended from the end of each limb, the ones on its standing legs tearing into the turf of the battlefield like it was water while it bore not one, not two but three individual tails, each stringy and whip-like. Its face was feline but in a decidedly ugly fashion with more teeth than it needed spilling out the mouth. The ears were small and pointed, the eyes a brilliant shade of golden grey but watery.

  A tiger-troll. These things weren’t common, were hard to find in the wild and where Theo had gotten it from, Scott didn’t even know where he’d start. As it was, it stood between him and another victory. Plus, he had faced a troll since he’d gotten to this island, although the less said about it the better but he knew what to expect. Sort of. That desperate clash with Harvey Rocastle felt a very long time ago. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes now as he had then. On the other hand, the conditions were very different here.

  Inwardly he formed a plan, he could feel Palawi’s reluctance but pushed it aside, tried to shore up the dog’s confidence, you can beat this, Pal. It’s big but how fast can it be?

  He shot Theo a sweet smile, desperate to break that façade of calm before the buzzer got them fighting. Anything to get under his opponent’s skin. And as it did, he didn’t waste any time, Palawi broke loose with a blast of lightning straight into the troll’s chest.

  If anything, it went even worse than he’d expected it to, it didn’t just fail to affect the troll, the thing absorbed it without flinching, held out its arms and bathed in the blast the way Scott might have stood in the shower. Skin glimmering with an effervescent energy, it charged from the ground and shot towards the startled Palawi. Scott couldn’t believe it either, reflexes kicking in before he knew they had, mentally screaming at Palawi to evade. The dog did but just barely, two great fists slamming down into the space where he’d stood a moment earlier. The troll didn’t let up, going on the chase, beating fists hard against the ground with no apparent ill effect, cracks forming spider-webs across the battlefield at their touch. Once Palawi got close enough in to land a bite and Scott winced as he heard the crack of teeth breaking against skin. Troll skin… Hard. Yeah, he already knew that. He’d never seen one as hard or fast as this though, Palawi was still ducking and diving, leaping and lunging to escape the blows raining his way and it was only a matter of time before he caught an unfortunate one where it hurt. Claws were useless, teeth were broken, lightning attacks even worse.