Game World

by C. J. Farley

  “No wonder the Professor was a bird watcher,” Dylan murmured. “The tranquilizers. The heavy rope. The shark cage. This is the thing she was watching for.”

  The Baron’s bulk blotted out the sun, the Earth, and both moons. Over him hung the Green Cloud, milked from a million memories, turning any light that was left the color of commerce. Around him swarmed the Higues, their awful insect wings buzzing, their gray hoods thrown back, their horrible proboscises exposed and extended and dripping blood. In one clawed hand, the Baron held the Great Drum and he beat a rhythm that mesmerized the others and drew them to him. Doom, Doom, Doom went the Great Drum—on and on until it beat ninety-nine times.

  “Now we know why the Baron called the Green Cloud intellectual property,” Eli said.

  “Yeah—anyone with an intellect is the Baron’s property!” Ines replied.

  The Baron’s hoards had raised their voices in song, which sounded like a pack of wolves howling the notes to “Ride of the Valkyries.”

  Blood and treasure

  Blood and treasure

  Blood and treasure

  Jah is dead

  Nearby, on a moving cart, Nestuh was tied down with ropes, a prisoner of the Baron.

  “This is my fault,” Eli moaned. “I wanted that treasure. I got so fixated on one direction I completely lost my way.”

  “There has to be some way of reaching him!” Ines said.

  “We’d need an army to do that,” Dylan said.

  “We’d need a miracle to do that,” Eli added.

  A large shadow suddenly fell across the field of battle. It was huge, and it soon became apparent that it was made up of many smaller shadows, shadows of men and women. They stood straight and tall and proud and they had weapons in their hands. They wielded machetes and spears and bows and maces. Each shadow began to take shape. The darkness became flesh, the flesh became warriors. Their eyes burned red. The warriors were Maruunz.

  The shadowless statues had been made human again. One thought had kept them: Family. Nanni had razed the walls of the shadow prison, and now she had raised an army.

  * * *

  Nanni stood at the top of Pumpkin Hill and the children stood with her. She put her lips to the abeng and blew a single loud note. For a brief moment, a cool shadow of calm was cast over the land. But still the legions of the Baron trudged on.

  “I didn’t know there were this many creatures in all of Xamaica,” Dylan said.

  “There aren’t,” Eli announced. “I just figured it out. Some of the Baron’s army is made up of the avatars of kids who play Xamaica on Earth.”

  Ines looked stricken. “My global friends—Artur and the rest!”

  “Now the Baron has snared them all,” Eli said.

  Behind the Baron’s forces was his spinning castle, perched upon its familiar funnel cloud. He had brought the tornado tower with him to watch the war. No doubt the inhabitants were wagering heavily on the outcome of the battle. Nearby, there were lines of empty wooden carts, each flanked by winged dinosaur guards.

  Dylan shook his head. “Wishcoins! They think war’s gonna make them rich.”

  Dylan had never wanted his powers to work more than he did in that moment. That feathered thing was the source of his family’s suffering. That monster stood between him and his sister. With all that was in him, he wanted to strike it down. In the game he had been a force to reckon with. Now, this was no game and he needed all the strength he’d once had. He had hoped that something would trigger it—the Xamaican sun, the Xamaican sea, the Xamaican earth. He had hoped that the danger would set off a reflex. Nothing. He had nothing. He was powerless.

  Then the Baron laughed—and the sound was like shells rattling in a burlap bag. A chill descended. The Baron put down the Great Drum and motioned with a talon. Nestuh was brought forward, each of his eight arms tied with rope to a wooden cart. Four monstrous dinosaur guards surrounded him.

  They were going to rip off Nestuh’s limbs.

  “I’m good, mon!” Nestuh cried out to the kids. “I have eight legs! If I lose a few, I’ll just be like Eli! Do they make wheelie chairs for spiders?”

  Then Nestuh let loose an awful shriek as a guard pulled off one of his legs.

  “Nooo!” Ines screamed. “We have to stop this!”

  (Leave the spider) Nanni said to the Baron and his men. Her voice was so full of cold command, for a second it seemed the Baron’s men would stop.

  “Obey me and you’ll be rewarded!” the Baron roared. He motioned for the imaginary wishcoins to be thrown from the carts to the troops, who grabbed at the air.

  He signaled again. Another awful cry. Another leg was ripped off Nestuh.

  “That evil coward!” Ines groaned, tears in her eyes.

  (No one is good or evil. Never demonize any person or any thing. There is only this moment, and a choice)

  The guards were readying to pull off one more limb.

  “Don’t give in!” the spider shouted to the children. “I’m done for anyway, mon!”

  “We have to do something!” Eli cried.

  Another leg was pulled off. Nestuh had stopped joking, talking, or even moving. He was clearly in incredible pain. Dylan couldn’t just stand and watch. He began to run toward the cart where Nestuh was being held. Ines and Eli followed right after him.

  (No) Nanni said, and set a restraining hand on Dylan’s shoulder.

  The day was hot, there was no wind, and the air was thick with fear. Nanni’s eyes were sad but calm.

  “We have to save him,” Dylan pleaded.

  Nanni turned to her Maruunz commanders. Astrid, her red eyes shining, stepped forward. Now that she was a full Maruunz warrior, she had been placed in charge of the forward forces. Tattoos on her neck, arms, and legs told of her most recent exploits, including a skirmish with hummingbirds, a close call with a Higue, a full-on fight with Soucouyants. Her chief lieutenant was Sharpened Stick, whose eyes were also blazing crimson, for he too had come of age and taken the name of Obadiah. Instead of his old namesake weapon, he was literally carrying a very big stick: Cudgel’s club.

  “Nestuh is being held in the center of the Baron’s armies,” Astrid reported in a steady voice that showed she was ready for leadership. “Even with our reinforcements, he has, by far, the superior numbers.”

  With the tip of a knife, she drew a map in the red earth.

  “If we launch an incursion, we will be flanked by dragons on the left and Iron Lions on the right. We’ll have trouble enough dealing with the Soucouyants, Hai-Uri, and Higues in the center. If the Rolling Calves charge they’ll roll right over us.”

  (So it’s a trap. What is your counsel?)

  “The Baron means to draw us in and finish us,” Astrid reasoned. “My Queen, you know these mountains like you know your own mind. If we retreat, the Baron will not be able to stop us. We can harass his forces for years—centuries . . .”

  Nestuh’s howls again echoed through the canopy.

  “We’re going after Nestuh,” Dylan declared.

  Eli and Ines, with Dylan by their side, turned to head toward the front lines.

  (No!) Nanni rose up, tall as a tree, her eyes flashing. (Don’t be a fool! If you lead forces into the Baron’s trap, we will lose this war. You will obey me!)

  “Or what?” Dylan countered. “I thought you changed! But it’s still your way or nothing! You’re still a tyrant!”

  (Do not disobey me. We are outnumbered. We must fight together or fall together)

  “What about Nestuh?”

  (We’re at war. He is not our problem)

  Dylan looked her in the eyes. “He’s not our problem, he’s our friend. We’re not gonna let you sacrifice him like some piece in a game. If you can’t understand, maybe you haven’t changed. We’re the Game Changers, all of us! This is about friendship.”

  (What do you all know about that?) she spat. (I know your hearts)

  “You don’t know anything about us,” Ines said.

  (Sil
ence, brat. I know everything. Everything! You came here to save your dear old dad. You failed and now he’s gone from this world. He was a fraud—and so are you)

  “You’re wrong,” Ines said, her cat’s eyes brimming with tears. “My show was fake, but every adventure I’ve had here is real. And I believe in my dad, I don’t care what anybody says. One thing I’ve figured out is if you believe in something enough—even yourself—you can make it real.”

  “She’s answered you, witch,” Eli said. “Now leave her alone!”

  (Shut up, fool!) Nanni sneered, turning to Eli. (Your illness is tearing your family apart. And now your lust for treasure has condemned Nestuh to death. You should be ashamed!)

  “Yeah, I screwed up big-time,” Eli admitted. “But I know now there are things worth more than money. I’m not going to leave Nestuh again.”

  “Queen Nanni, you’ve said enough,” Dylan said.

  (Have I? I can read your thoughts like words on a page. You came here to find your sister. But you’re the one that lost her, aren’t you? You’ve always been jealous of her intelligence, her talent, her height. So you insulted her—and now you have sent her to her doom. The question isn’t how you will live without your sister. It’s how you will manage to live with yourself)

  Fury swelled up in Dylan. But she was right—this trip, this war, Nestuh’s capture, they were all his fault. He was a jealous jerk of a brother and it took this whole journey and a friggin’ war for him to see it. He wanted to attack Nanni for saying any of this out loud. But that was exactly what she wanted, right? For the kids to lose control, to forget the real mission—freeing Nestuh and then finding his sister. He had to simmer down, to focus. He had to be calm for his friend—for Nestuh. So Dylan swallowed his rage and stayed silent.

  Nanni laughed. (Are you listening to my words? Or are you too sick with your own guiltiness? I am the Mistress of the Maruunz! Sorceress of the Land of Look Behind! The Queen of the Dark Interval! How dare you lecture me about sacrifice and responsibility—my blood is in the soil of this land! You’re not here to serve ideals. You’re here for yourselves! I know your family history! I can read your minds like . . . like—)

  Her words caught in her throat. It was as if her mental powers had encountered something unexpected in Dylan’s thoughts. For a moment Nanni’s face was full of anger and pain. Centuries were etched around her eyes.

  Then she seemed to shrink. A sad look passed over her face, a breeze rippling across the open waters, and then her expression was one of stillness again. She bowed her head, overcome by some thought or emotion.

  Dylan’s own anger subsided, and he looked at the witch with pity. “Whatever we came for, we’re here for each other now. This is about friendship. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? We’ve heard stories about you since we got here and all of them are bad. And you seem to live up to every terrible word. That why I don’t believe you’ve really changed. You’re still the same cruel, thoughtless witch you’ve always been!”

  A silence hung over the group for a moment, but it was broken by another scream from Nestuh. Then Nanni spoke.

  (You think you know me, but you know nothing. I’ve been to your world. I’ve felt different feelings—happiness, friendship . . . even love. That’s where I changed. If only I could bring those days back . . . bring those feelings back. If only . . . for a time)

  She now looked like the old woman she was, shriveled and stooped over and unimaginably exhausted. She could read the thoughts of others, but now it seemed that the others could finally read hers. Her life had been long and heavy and cold. The children’s desires were small and desperate but they burned as bright as a star. Something like a smile fluttered around her lips, but it was drowned by the melancholy in her voice.

  (By Jah, I have changed) she said. (Nestuh came to my aid when others gave me up for dead. He was my friend because he sensed something worthy in me. So I will be his friend now. Let us come to his aid. Let us rescue . . . our friend)

  Suddenly she was a commander again, standing straight with renewed energy. She faced Astrid.

  (Is there any chance our attack will succeed?)

  Astrid shook her head. “Your Majesty, we are certain to fail.”

  Nanni turned to Dylan and her lieutenants. (By the Inklings, if you heed one thing I say, remember this. The only defeat is when you quit)

  Nanni motioned Dylan to come away from the others and walk with her.

  “We don’t have time for more meetings!”

  (There is always time to do things right)

  Nanni and Dylan walked together, much as they had the first day they met when they had toured Nanni Town. They strolled to the crest of a grassy knoll and peered down at the battlefield. Flowers dappled the grass. Dylan could hear the echoes of battle preparations: the screech of swords being sharpened, the grunts of marching soldiers, and the stomp of armored feet. The long grass and flowers waved blithely in the breeze.

  “Why are you showing me this?” Dylan asked impatiently. “We have to help Nestuh!”

  (Those purple blossoms are called Lovelies of the Forest. Xamaica has many flowers, but I never paused to pick one until I strolled through a field of dandelions on Earth)

  “Flowers? Seriously? This is what you want to talk about?”

  (I sense great turmoil in you)

  “I get that a lot. I just want to hurry up already. We have a war to win!”

  (How many battles have you fought?)

  “Not counting the one earlier today? Between not many and none. How about you?”

  (Too many to count—here and on Earth)

  “So you were trying to conquer Earth too?”

  (A score of years ago, I was searching for fresh sources of obeah. A human digging for prehistorical beasts disrupted the skein between the worlds—and I broke through)

  “So why didn’t you end up ruling a couple continents?”

  (Love)

  “Excuse me, did you say love?”

  (He was extraordinary. I don’t know if he ever completely believed my stories about Xamaica, but he wrote them down and said someday he’d share them with the world)

  “So love is why you never conquered Earth?”

  (In battle, the victory goes to the one who knows how to yield. When I play Shatranj, I keep my mind open and surrender to the moment)

  “I don’t understand.”

  (Don’t understand. Overstand)

  “Enough with the wordplay. What are we going to do about this war?”

  (The Way is all around you. But you can only find it within yourself)

  “Since when did you become this philosopher?”

  (After I spent time in your world, I returned to my own but remained lost. I learned that the Baron had been corrupted by his pursuit of me, and was now dedicated to increasing his own power. I found myself listening to the thoughts of Xamaicans. I safeguarded their greatest treasures in my magic book)

  “My sister likes collecting things in books too. You two have a lot in common. Except she’s not magic or evil or two thousand years old . . . So is there anything you can tell me that I can actually use in the battle so I don’t get, y’know, killed?”

  (I have lived all these long centuries because my magic protects only me. I have perfected the art of self-defense. Friendship, family—these things leave one vulnerable, weak)

  “So that’s a no?”

  Nanni struck a pose, her legs slightly bent, her arms out in front of her.

  (Do what I do)

  “This is not the time for choreography.”

  (This is the first position of Bangaran—it’s called the backward hummingbird)

  “Oh—my bad. This is actual battle stuff. Now I get it.” Dylan tried it out. It felt unexpectedly natural; he could feel a winged energy flowing through him, like he had been plugged into a socket. “Cool!”

  She shifted positions. (This is the resting dragonfly—the second position)

  Dylan adjuste
d his stance. He felt a flow of power, but this time it was different—it was the calm force of a slow-moving flood.

  (And this is the swaying palm tree—the third position)

  Dylan changed his stance again. With this new position, he felt like he had captured a whirlwind in his body. His skin tingled and his muscles throbbed. “The power—it’s incredible.”

  Nanni smiled. (Good—you have natural aptitude for Bangaran)

  “Will this help me in a fight?”

  (Yes—if we had seven years to train)

  “How about something that will come in handy in seven minutes?”

  Nanni waved her hands. A machete appeared in front of her. Flames ran up and down the blade.

  “What’s that?” Dylan said.

  (It is the Machete of the Land of Look Behind. I forged this blade when I was exiled to the wilderness many ages ago. I was alone and frightened and I drew energy from my own spirit. Courage ignites it. As long as there is bravery in your heart, flames will run on this blade, burning all enemies)

  “I could use an upgrade,” Dylan said, pulling his rusty machete out of his belt loop and dropping it on the ground. When he grabbed the hilt of the new weapon, the fire went out. “I’m guessing this is not a good sign.”

  (When the flames return, you’ll be ready)

  Dylan smiled. “If you’re not careful, we’re going to become friends.”

  Nanni put a hand on his shoulder. (Friendship can be relative)

  After everything they’d already been through, Dylan couldn’t believe it was going to end like this.

  He looked out again across the field of battle. The Baron’s forces had dug into their positions. The flowers he had admired only moments ago had been trampled. Spread out over the vast square, he saw fiends from beyond his nightmares. There were creatures with claws and horns and forked tongues. There were beasts with cruel eyes and terrible voices and deadly weapons. There were wild things that he wouldn’t have dared to imagine, and yet here they were, real and thirsty for blood.