Game World

by C. J. Farley

  “Why are you draining all the magic?” Dylan asked.

  (You have been told a lie. The Baron has done this, not me)

  The gray landscape was dotted with vast pits which vomited up sulfurous white scum. The children saw Soucouyants entwined with hundreds of other creatures who had been turned into zombies. The Soucouyants’ vines slithered around necks and limbs, and their servant undead were all set to working on menial tasks—breaking rocks, digging pits, hacking at stumps, loading bird dung into buckets. The horrid screeches of the Soucouyants rang across the Dead Yard.

  The children could hear another sound too. It was the faint beat of a drum, growing louder, in the far distance. The rhythm was like low thunder, and it seemed to fill the sky and shake the earth.

  (Silence, jesters, and listen!) Nanni commanded. (It is the Great Drum of Anancy)

  “Then the legends are true!” Nestuh said. “The Great Drum was stolen from my people after the making of the Great Music!”

  In the dark, Dylan looked out at the faint flames across the surrounding countryside. There seemed to be as many fires as there were stars in the sky.

  “He’s using the drum to call the creatures of Xamaica,” Dylan said.

  (The Baron has raised an army against us)

  “Um . . . us?” Eli asked. “The way I see it, there’s Team Nanni, and Team Everyone Not Named Nanni.”

  (Fear not, jester. We’re going to a hidden city)

  They headed out over where the land was healthy again, and the Dead Yard receded. It was midday and the sun was bright, the sky was blue, and the clouds were fat and lazy. Dylan and his companions were far from the sea-sprayed coastal terrain of Robeen Bay. Around them were the mist-shrouded peaks of the Blue Mountains.

  The bubble popped a few feet above the ground and Dylan and his friends tumbled out. Nanni landed nimbly on her feet, like a gymnast finishing a routine.

  (This was the home of the Maruunz—the greatest warriors this world has seen. When they come of age, they get the Crimson Vision, and none may withstand them. They served me and would not serve the Baron—so he destroyed them all. Now they are all shadows—imprisoned in the place you found me)

  Then she did something odd: she stopped and gave Nestuh a hug, which he returned with all eight legs.

  (Gratitude for returning me to myself) Nanni said, before turning away.

  Now they were in Nanni Town, high in the Blue Mountains in the center of Xamaica, the witch informed them. Released from Nanni’s spell, they were free to move about as they liked. They stood in front of a small hut with cedar-plank walls and a palm-frond roof. They walked forward to the lip of a place called Pumpkin Hill. Near the edge, a great mahogany rod had been plunged into the earth; on its tip was perched an abeng, a wind instrument made from a cow’s horn. A palm tree was planted near the center of the hill, beside the hut. The branches swayed although there was no wind. The trunk undulated like a hula dancer. The whole tree emanated a soft golden radiance. You know how people have a glow after they’ve just come back from a great Caribbean vacation, or if they’ve hit the winning free throws in a big game, or they’ve just won the tri-county spelling bee? The tree had a glow like that—only with actual light.

  “That tree is beyond beautiful,” Ines said.

  “It planted by Nanni,” Nestuh informed her. “It is the Great Palm of Protection. All the others, dem seeds of this. As long as it is rooted in the earth, the town cannot be found by those who wish it ill.”

  Nanni Town may have been beautiful, but Dylan didn’t care. His sister could be sitting in some cell somewhere. The day was warm, but he felt chilly. The air was clean, but he might as well have been breathing in the reek of a moldy basement. His face felt wrong, like he was wearing a plastic Halloween mask of a smile instead of the howl of joylessness reverberating inside him. Yet even though he felt as numb as a novocained tooth he had to keep looking. Emma was out there somewhere.

  Dylan stepped to the edge of Pumpkin Hill. He could see now that he was on the top of a great stone ridge with a commanding view of a town beneath. There were several hundred houses, most constructed with walls of wattle and plaster with wooden doors and thatched roofs. A clear stream ran through town, the Macungo, and, at the fringes of town, it poured over a great precipice into the Stony River, which flowed underneath the drop. Where the rivers converged, the water was thrown up with much violence and froth. It seemed to Dylan that, within the seething water, he could glimpse a massive bubbling cauldron.

  “It Nanni that make it so,” Nestuh said. “She has higher science. She catch musket ball out of air and fire it back, double speed. In her hut on Pumpkin Hill, Nanni has a book of obeah. The book is made of gold and the pages of fire. She cut her vein with a knife and wrote the words in hot blood. There is great science in this book. It make rivers flow backward, goats fly, and duppies return to their trees.”

  “So the Soucouyant didn’t have the real book!” Eli exclaimed. “I knew it!”

  “How long have you been in her service?” Ines asked Nestuh.

  “Ever since the Baron began to work against Xamaica and not for it,” Nestuh replied.

  “I thought Nanni was the villain,” Eli said.

  “The world always shifty-shifty,” Nestuh shrugged. “Making sure you’re in the right is hard as fighting for it. Truth.”

  “But she’s a jerk!” Ines said. “I can’t believe you’re on a hugging basis with her!”

  Nestuh tapped his own chest. “Her heart is scarred. But it beats true.”

  “How did you know we would wind up at the shadow prison?” Dylan asked.

  “I knew, once you were on Hope Road, that it would happen. All roads lead to Nanni. She is what Xamaica needs now.”

  “You should have told us what you were up to,” Eli spat. “You betrayed us!”

  “No, mon, I saved you!”

  Fire sprang up all around Eli. Nestuh had to jump back to avoid being singed.

  “I should burn you to ashes right here,” Eli seethed, his eyes aflame. “You tricked us and hand-delivered us to this witch.”

  If a spider could look stricken, Nestuh would have. “You’ve seen the sufferers!” he cried. “We need a revolution—so we had to have Queen Nanni’s help!”

  “Now you’re a revolutionary?” Eli scoffed. “I don’t know who or what you are! All I know is I’ll never trust you again. Never!”

  At that, tears poured out of Nestuh’s many eyes.

  Ines laid a paw on his dreadlocked head. “You’ve hurt his feelings!”

  “He’s lucky I don’t have bug spray,” Eli jeered. “You’re a traitor, Nestuh, hear me? You’re not my friend. And what kind of spider can’t even spin a friggin’ web?”

  That seemed to wound Nestuh most and he hid his face behind four of his legs.

  Dylan shook his head. “Harsh.”

  “Necessary,” Eli shot back.

  Nestuh wiped away his tears. “It’s true—I cannot spin or weave or tie. But some knots need to be untied.” With that, he skittered away behind a group of huts.

  “I’m a hacker—I hate secrets,” Eli said. “So Nestuh kept us in the dark—that’s his prerogative. But I’m done being his friend. Just like he says—the most important part of a story is knowing when it’s over.”

  From his place of hiding, Nestuh sobbed louder.

  * * *

  Dylan and his friends kept walking with Nanni. Farther beyond the town, Dylan could see acres of farmland, patches of green on green, and the familiar wave of sugarcane stalks swaying in the wind. The town, the streets, and the fields were empty. Even the shadows were gone. As Dylan looked into the distance, Nanni spoke softly into his ear. Her words were low and soothing. He turned to face her and was surprised to see her standing some paces away, her mouth closed, staring serenely out onto the fields.

  (Come with me, all of you)

  They moved past the many one-story houses, squat and sturdily built, past the clusters of banana tr
ees; near the center of the town, they strolled underneath the Tree of Life, a tree whose trunk was larger than a big man’s encircling arms and whose dome-shaped top sprouted blue flowers at the tips of every branch. They rambled on toward the fields outside of town, strolling through the rows of lentil, potatoes, and corn.

  (The Baron has been searching for warriors to add to his armies. He enslaves the ones he can use, and destroys the ones he fears may one day oppose him)

  “So Xamaica—the video game, that is—is a way for the Baron to capture kids from our world and force them into his service in this world?” Ines speculated. “That explains why not all the forty-four Game Changers showed up at the tournament! The Baron probably already had them!”

  “Mee Corp. is like an interdimensional child-slavery ring,” Eli said. “Your shareholders are gonna be pissed.”

  (From Time Out of Mind, it has been said that Jah will bring champions to Xamaica. I monitor the passages between worlds, and I was prepared for your coming. But the Baron was laying in ambush. He has taken a terrifying form. Fortunately, Ma Sinéad came to my aid and sent her ship, the Black Starr, to intercept you. The Baron rose to attack and we fought a great contest. But my efforts had a cost, and my defenses were lowered. He stole my shadow and imprisoned it in Robeen Bay. My corporal form was reduced to dust—or so the Baron thought. He did not know that some of the spiders remained loyal to me)

  “I still can’t believe Nestuh is a friend of yours!” Eli blurted out.

  (I have no need for friendship! But spiders can recognize a web of lies when they see one. Nestuh volunteered to carry my essence on his back until it was reunited with my shadow and I was reborn. To protect him, his memory of our pact was wiped until his mission was completed. While in my service, Nestuh’s own family disowned him. But the spider completed his task, as he promised he would. He was able to get you on Hope Road and guide you to me)

  “So why are you trying to help people and fight the Baron?” Dylan asked. “All the legends say you’re the villain. Why should we trust you now?”

  (I have seen other worlds, and now I follow only The Way)

  “Did you carve that inscription? Give your life—and you will find it?”

  (There is obeah in those words. They were passed down from the Inklings long ago. When you overstand what they mean, you will understand what they say. Trust my actions. I will go back to the shadow prison. I will liberate the Maruunz warriors. Then I will have an army to oppose the Baron)

  “Wait a second—you’re leaving?” Eli asked.

  (Address me as Your Majesty!) hissed Nanni, baring her teeth in a sudden fury.

  “Whoa!” Eli said. “Chill—Your Majesty. With a temper like that, you must not have many friends!”

  Those words seemed to sting Nanni. (I had companionship—long ago and far away) she murmured, half to herself. (But enough of such talk. I leave tonight, though—by the Inkings!—I shall return. Look for me when the shadows are darkest)

  “Where are you going?” Dylan shouted after her. “What if the Baron attacks? What do we do?”

  Something like a smile flickered on Nanni’s lips. (Resist)

  Dylan wanted to ask her about the cheat code. But with everyone watching he didn’t want to just blurt everything out. “I thought I had powers in Xamaica. But nothing seems to work. How do I get them back? Can you cast a spell or something?”

  (Why are you looking to others to find something in yourself?) With that, she vanished into the night.

  “She’s gone!” Eli gasped. “We’re so screwed.”

  “Calm down,” Ines advised. “This is a hidden city, remember?”

  There was a new sound in the surrounding woods. Something was out there—a lot of somethings.

  “Okay, now we’re officially screwed,” Dylan said.

  There were eyes in the woods. And a group of whatsits or whosthats or somethingsomethings. They had heads, arms, legs, bodies—and weapons. Knives, swords, crossbows, throwing stars—basically, every fighting tool you can name and a few you probably can’t. The strangers were in the shadows but now they stepped into the light.

  They were children, no older-looking than Dylan, Ines, and Eli. They were dressed in uniforms the crimson color of the Xamaican earth. They each had long, flowing dreadlocks, which fell down their shoulders like a lion’s mane. And they had the most amazing tattoos—full-color pictures that moved cinematically across their skin, recounting, it appeared, the personal histories of each warrior.

  “Talk about human highlight reels,” Eli said.

  The warrior kids were in two groups. On one side were boys, on the other, girls.

  “I am Cudgel,” pronounced one of the children, a boy. “We are the Maruunz.”

  “I am Carving Knife,” declared another, a girl. “We are the Maruunz.”

  Of all the Maruunz, Cudgel and Carving Knife had the most living tattoos; their tats showed them hunting animals, chasing intruders—and sometimes fighting each other.

  “If you’re Maruunz, how come your eyes aren’t red?” Dylan asked.

  “A Maruunz’s eyes only get the Crimson Vision when they come of age,” Cudgel said. “But trust me, we’re Maruunz. Those posers over there are just girls.”

  Carving Knife threw three of her namesake weapons. They slipped through the air like whispers. Each of the knives—all made of stone—lodged in the ground mere millimeters away from Dylan and his companions.

  “Okay,” Eli exhaled, “you’ve got skills.”

  “Why are you split into groups—boys and girls?” Dylan asked.

  Cudgel looked grim. “Because only boys are allowed to train to become warriors.”

  “Ignore my brother,” Carving Knife said. “The first Maruunz were men and women.”

  “A woman hasn’t gotten the Crimson Vision for a generation.”

  “So what? There’s no reason not to let us train too.”

  “We’ve defeated you in three straight skirmishes.”

  “But we won the seven before that.”

  Cudgel clenched his teeth. “We should settle this in single combat at dawn.”

  Carving Knife balled her fists. “Why wait till dawn?”

  “Whoa—cool it, both of you,” Dylan said. “You’re brothers and sisters and you’re all Maruunz. What’s all the fighting about?”

  The two Maruunz warriors explained that the woods around Nanni Town were dangerous, deep—and enchanted. Nothing ever aged there—not plants, not animals, and not humans. This had made a peculiar rite of passage possible. When Maruunz turned the age of thirteen, they were tested on their skills with their weapons. It was an important ritual because all Maruunz were called by the name of their weapon until they mastered it and were given a proper name. If they failed, they were cast unnamed and unaging into the woods until they were ready.

  “Nanni once ruled this land,” Cudgel said. “Then the Baron attacked. He couldn’t find this hidden city, so he siphoned almost all the magic. That created the Dead Yard. Able-bodied Maruunz marched forth to fight him, but met their doom.”

  “I thought all the Maruunz were shadows,” Ines said. “Why were you spared?”

  “We were in the forests,” Carving Knife responded. “That is where the Maruunz warriors train. The boys were learning their weapons, and the girls were mastering domestic skills. But now that we’re at war, it makes sense for everybody to learn everything.”

  “So you weren’t ready—all you guys are rejects?” Eli said.

  “We’ve had four hundred years to hone our skills,” Cudgel countered. “We are warriors—ready to take the Crimson Vision and claim our true names.”

  “You’ve been training for four hundred years?” Ines asked.

  Cudgel shrugged. “Give or take a few decades. I kind of lost track about a century ago.”

  “We stayed to await our families’ return,” Carving Knife continued. “But over the years, our training exercises have become war. There have been losses on both
sides.”

  “More losses on your side,” Cudgel cracked.

  “Can you keep quiet, even for a moment?” Carving Knife shot back.

  “I’m speaking the truth—which is more than you usually do!” Cudgel roared.

  Cudgel and Carving Knife stood face to face, breathing hard. The female Maruunz stood behind Carving Knife, weapons at the ready. The male Maruunz lined up behind Cudgel.

  Dylan had seen this scene before, played out hundreds of times on the card table of his small apartment, in the backseat of the Professor’s electric car, in the school hallway when he would brush by Viral Emma between periods.

  Dylan stepped between the brothers and sisters. “Listen, I have a sister,” he began. “The Baron may have her right now. I’m not certain exactly where he has her or how I can even get her back. I can’t stop thinking about how pointless our fights were. You have another shot at being a family. Nanni went off to get your parents. They’ve been trapped in a shadow prison but she’s going to free them and ask them to join an army to fight the Baron.”

  The Maruunz started to whistle and whoop.

  “Then the prophecy is true,” Cudgel said. “It has been said that Nanni will someday lead us in a war against an even greater foe.”

  “How many darn prophecies do you have on this island?” Eli asked no one in particular.

  * * *

  Cudgel led the children to a clearing in the shadow of the trees.

  There, in an open pit, stood rows of statues. The figures, each of a Maruunz warrior, were exceedingly lifelike. They seemed less carved than frozen in place, suspended in a particular moment in time. Each statue was different—there were women and men, squat figures and tall ones, warriors bearing battle axes, and soldiers carrying slingshots. All had weapons of some sort and none of them was smiling. Dylan came closer to one. There was a hard proud look on his face and a scar on his left cheek.

  “These statues seem almost alive,” Ines said. “Who made them?”

  “They are not statues,” Cudgel said. “These are our parents. And our brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. This is what is left of their bodies.”