The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  That brought a start out of him. It was something he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet, hearing his name being casually brought up in conversation.

  “But for the time being, Arnholt chooses his own spirit and… Hey, is that a kos fairy?”

  “Looks like an off-shoot of one. You can’t genetically modify kos fairies so it must look like that naturally. Looks rare enough, you don’t see many white and green ones. They’re mainly dark colours, reds and yellows and browns. See how this works out for him.”

  Arnholt… Matt Arnholt… Out of curiosity, Scott opened a second page and typed in his name before going back to the page on Nadia Yepes. Vazaran national… Terrific, she’d probably have the support of the home crowd. Assuming there were many of them here. Probably the best reason for having it here in the eyes of the ICCC, with it being on an island in the middle of nowhere, all those poor pesky native Vazarans couldn’t afford to get here. Travel here might be free for the competitors and their guests’ courtesy of the ICCC but not for spectators. They had to pay and not just through the nose. He’d tried getting tickets before, they’d cost more than he made in winnings during his first and second year as a spirit caller.

  “Video referee is just warming up, the competitors are exchanging a few last-minute words with each other, Arnholt’s smiling, Silva’s impassive, we should be underway in three, two… and go. We’re off. Arnholt doesn’t waste any time, his kos lets go with a uniblast, good shot but it’s missed! A wasted attack! The goat leaps up like a salmon and it sails harmlessly into the shields!”

  “Unbelievable! There’s some power in those blasts but all the power in the world does you no good if you can’t hit the target! And now Silva on the attack, the goat lands, charges, its head is bowed and… Oh nice dodge from Arnholt! In close and that was just so nimble to evade an oncoming head smash. It was almost dancer-esque!”

  “Let’s not forget Arnholt’s sister is a renowned spirit dancer. Looks like she’s taught him a trick or two.”

  That page showing all of Matt’s information had flashed up, Scott quickly turned his attention to it. The database he’d accessed showed everything from brief bios to known spirits to competition records. They even had some video clips from notable battles. Pretty much anything to satisfy his curiosity. Also… There it was. He could see what he was looking for, the list of links to notable family members if they also had a career in official competition there at the bottom of the page. There was Matt’s father, Terrence Arnholt, Scott knew all about him, and who he was really interested in, his sister, Mia. If Jess caught him doing this, it’d be a little awkward.

  It’d be very awkward. At the very least, it’d lead to arguments he’d rather not have right now. He hesitated, his finger lingering over clicking on the link.

  “Problem with those goats, they’re not very manoeuvrable so once they set off, you need to be sure they’re going to be able to hit something. If Arnholt can keep out of the way of… Woah!”

  “And apparently this goat has a hidden brimstone bite, it’s just spat a stream of fire towards Arnholt and that took everyone by surprise. Could this be over before it’s even begun?”

  “No. It didn’t look that hot and it’s not often a blast that small completely overwhelms at this early stage. Yeah, I’m right, look Arnholt’s kos is still standing. Well, hovering.”

  He hit enter, switching back to the Yepes page as he’d done so, still interested but he knew it wouldn’t be long before he abandoned it completely. His attention being dragged between three different sources wasn’t worth a whole lot. He ran his eyes over the list of known spirits, quickly judged there was nothing there he couldn’t handle if it was thrown up against him and back onto Mia’s page.

  Wow…

  The picture of her on there did her justice. It looked like a modelling profile picture, she sat on a bench with her elbows rested on her crossed legs and her chin on her wrists, a sweet smile on her face.

  “Problem with a kos like that is that they don’t really have much in the line of physical offence or defence. Keep it ranged and he’ll have a chance. Turn it into a close-up fight and Arnholt will lose badly. He can’t afford to do that.”

  “And that is what Silva’s trying to do by the looks of it. She’s keeping pressing the advantage, moving in with charges and butts and it’s all Arnholt can do to keep evading it. But you can’t run forever. However, with the closing in, he can’t afford the few seconds it might take to launch an attack on a moving target. One solid hit and this could be all over.”

  Go on, Matt, Scott urged silently, leaning his chair back on two legs and looking at the ceiling. He was quite enjoying the commentary. Normally when he heard bouts on the radio, he had visions of what was happening that were wildly inaccurate.

  “Silva closes in, ooh nearly, nearly. Horns nearly grazed that little fairy and that would have been all over. This has been modified, those horns look sharper than normal and Arnholt knows it. How’s he going to get out of this one?”

  “Does he look out of his depth?”

  “A little right now, unless he does something special in the next few seconds because that spirit is starting to look tired. For a limited physical defence and offence, read also endurance as a close second into that. It’s a lot more draining to run than to chase and those goats are sturdy critters.”

  “Very. Even if he does get a few good shots in, is what he has left going to be enough to drop it? Because…”

  “Like that? My word! Arnholt just fires another uniblast, this one from above and it has smashed Silva’s spirit into the ground. That was unexpected!”

  “Yeah, another dodge from Arnholt and his spirit rose into the sky, using an avenue it hadn’t really explored before now, straight over Silva and a uniblast at point blank range into the back. What a hit and the crowd sense blood. Silva looks unsteady, that spirit is shaking on its hooves and has the battle turned for Arnholt?”

  Scott studied Mia’s page one final time, suddenly sad there were no videos. A few pictures had been posted though, one of her posing in a dancer’s outfit with a cat spirit, her clothing consisting of a black dress that showed a lot of her legs and high heels with straps went almost all the way up to her knees, her hair dyed blue in that photo. He let out a little sigh of appreciation and then closed it. She had been cute, there had been something about her but he had a lot more on his mind right now. Or at least he was trying to. He still hadn’t made his mind up about what he was going to do with Jess yet. That argument the other night had cut deep and he’d been asking some very serious questions of himself.

  All he could do was try to do whatever was right for him. And lately, it hadn’t been the same as when it had started. Maybe he’d changed too much, maybe she had. Maybe they both had. He wasn’t the same person now as he was when they’d first met.

  “Arnholt’s spirit is glowing, I think we might be about to see something special here… Is that what I think it is?”

  “It could well be… And it is! Game over! Arnholt unleashes the fury of the fairy and that has finished off what many predicted to be a one-sided affair in the favour of his opponent. The crowd is loving this; they’ve seen what could be the first major surprise of this tournament as Matthew Arnholt of Premesoir defeats Willow Silva of Serran to move into the group stage of the tournament.”

  Huh…

  Scott didn’t realise he’d made the sound out loud until a few seconds later. Maybe, just maybe, Matt was that little bit better than he’d expected. Fury of the fairy… Jess had mentioned that move in the past, what with her being the owner of a kos fairy of her own. They were naturally free creatures and didn’t appreciate being locked into capture crystals, even if they had no choice but to reluctantly obey. Fury of the fairy entailed tapping into all that useless anger and rage at being forced to be little more than a slave and unleashing it into an enemy. She’d spoken about her inability to utilise it when it mattered, a problem it appeared that Matt had managed to o
vercome.

  Maybe he should keep that quiet from her. No doubt it’d just piss her off further.

  “That was an astonishing show of power from young Arnholt. Plenty of more seasoned callers have struggled with that admittedly risky move. If you get it right, it’s a bountiful reward. If you get it wrong, it leaves you open to the most brutal of counter attacks.”

  “It could have gone so wrong but Matthew Arnholt gets it so, so right here in the qualifying rounds of the Competitive Centenary Calling Challenge Cup. It was reminiscent of watching his father at the same age, the same steely grit and nerves under pressure. If you’ve just joined us again, Matthew Arnholt has beaten out Willow Silva to make the group stage.”

  Scott stretched in his chair and turned the screen off. He was done here. Once more though, he found himself nursing the feeling that he could have done more. Ah, screw it. He knew what might be thrown against him. He didn’t like to focus too much on what the opponent would do. He wanted to show them what he could do instead, make them worry about him.

  Nadia Yepes was a tall-ish dark skinned woman with thick black hair that naturally came to ringlets; he could see that from across the stadium battlefield, the ground just regular flooring, treated wood and special paint. Others did have special battlegrounds, he’d seen that in Pete’s bout earlier with the ice in the indoor stadium, but he was going to have to make do with the standardised one. Not that it mattered. You had to be able to master the field no matter what it might be. He’d once fought on a battlefield that had consisted of five raised platforms above a chasm, the bottom too far to be seen. You just had to avoid thinking of the worst-case scenario. Compared to that, this was easy. Yepes had her long fingers tucked into the belt of her shorts, her legs long and supple and her feet bare. Scott tried to avoid staring. Maybe she was deliberately trying to distract him. The sunlight kept glinting off her big hooped earrings.

  Yeah, some chance of that. He had enough women trouble to be getting on with without her adding to it. He set his face to be impassive, she wouldn’t get to him. Instead he tried to focus on everything around him. The stadium did look magnificent from inside the bowl, he had to admit, at least forty thousand people all surrounding him cheering and screaming in anticipation of the starting bout.

  He didn’t even hear the commentator above it all, didn’t hear what Yepes mouthed at him. All he saw was the video referee signal that he should send out his spirit. Yepes sent out hers, a Vazaran plains lioness, a magnificently sturdy golden furred beast which drew sounds of admiration from the crowd as it stretched out, extending claws that looked several degrees larger and sharper than standard. Scott studied it, realised he’d seen it on the screen yesterday and grinned. He’d have this in the bag in no time.

  Again, she mouthed something he didn’t here and didn’t care, too caught up in the moment as he summoned his own spirit to care what his opponent was up to.

  Herc! Take it away.

  Herc materialised out on the battlefield in front of him, the spirit raising his horn to the air proudly. He’d captured the oversized stag bug a while ago, out in the forests of Premesoir and he’d done very little modifying on him if he’d been honest. He hadn’t needed to. Herc stood at least four hands taller than the lioness, his exoskeleton a brilliant mix of dull brown and gleaming blue. Two gleaming eyes broke out from his face just below the horn, a magnificently oversized appendage that hung spiked from his head, mini thorns protruding out from it. He stood up on two stocky hind legs, he’d had to give him a better posture for fighting after all and two arms hung from each side of his body, armoured strong with wicked claws of his own.

  “Shall we dance?” he asked, grinning confidently as the video referee signalled the sign to get the battle underway.

  No sooner had it started than did the lioness let loose a roar of challenge, Herc looked unimpressed, before leaping up into the air with claws outstretched and extended. Scott made his choice, suddenly hoping and praying to himself that he’d made the right one. Mentally he berated himself. If he started to question himself now, there was no hope for him at all.

  Wings snapped out from Herc’s back, translucently delicate wings but still capable of getting off the ground and he rose with the opponent. There was a horrific scraping sound as claw raked across carapace, Herc grunting with surprise before swinging his horn out like a hammer. The blow caught the lioness in the side, adding more momentum to the fall. Yepes’ spirit hit the ground hard, a deep gash raked into its side from where Herc had swung.

  Follow it up!

  Scott watched as Herc shot down towards the ground, the blood on the horn glinting in the afternoon sun as he charged towards the lioness. Press this advantage; it might be over very quickly indeed.

  Yepes reacted, her spirit managed to lunge backwards, just out of reach. Herc did manage to pull up, avoid hitting the ground but not before the lioness’ jaws started to glow. Scott gulped, suddenly realising what was coming. All his thoughts moved to imploring Herc to move, quickly.

  As the uniblast burst from the jaws of Yepes’ spirit, Scott felt a flush of fresh sweat ripple over his face; he gasped audibly as Herc spun up over it, back up into the air. It had been close…

  Too close.

  He closed his eyes and swore to himself. Herc wasn’t moving freely, a large burn had been wrought across his chest, not deep enough to be fatal but it looked to be impeding movement. He forced himself to open his eyes and watch. He couldn’t fall away now. By the looks of it, Yepes had ordered her spirit onto the attack, the lioness leaping up at Herc to try and drag the stag bug down to the ground.

  Each time the claws went for the armoured chest and Scott found himself furrowing his brow in bemusement. She’d already seen that those claws were no match for that armour so why keep doing the same thing over and again. That was where she aimed anywhere. Hitting Herc was proving to be more of a challenge than she’d clearly expected. The front might be hurting but the wings still worked fine. The bug was weaving in and out, away from anything that might hurt with surprising agility for one so big.

  Herc! Lower! Swat it down!

  He hoped this’d work, he watched as the stag bug descended slightly, hovering down and into range. The lioness leaped in, sprang up with claws out, fangs bared…

  The attack never quite landed as Herc swung both upper arms into Yepes’ spirit in a crushing hammer motion, yet still the claws raked out to deal an unintentional blow, cutting deep into the already damaged area on Herc’s body. The lioness bellowed in agony as it hit the ground, Herc squealed with a sound it was hard to imagine an insect-like being making, ichor dripping out of the wound in his front. Scott finally realised what it was that Yepes had been trying to do in one horrible instant. Standard practice when fighting something armoured. When you manage to crack that nut, keep focusing on that area.

  He cursed himself for not realising that sooner, yet looking at the lioness in front of him, he realised it might not be that much of a fatal mistake. Herc wasn’t looking perfect but the lioness had come off worse. It couldn’t stand on one of its legs, hung uselessly. That golden fur had lost its shine, blood and dust taking its lustre. One of its eyes was closed, as it roared he could see some of the teeth missing.

  Yep, Herc looked in better condition. He grinned at Yepes. If he’d looked at the lioness, he might have seen the tell-tale glow about its mouth, the sure sign of another uniblast prepping for launch.

  As it was, all he saw was Yepes’ smirk in reply.

  Chapter Fourteen. Love and Other Mysteries.

  “I could deal with the criminals, it’s the families of those that they’d hurt that I couldn’t stand dealing with.”

  First line in autobiography of unnamed Unisco agent after retirement.

  The twenty third day of Summerdawn.

  With the qualifiers out of the way, the draw for the group stages of the tournament had been made quickly in following order. Unlike the opening ceremony, it hadn’t been made manda
tory to attend it. Some had, of course. Many hadn’t. In comparison to the opening ceremony five days earlier, it had been quite low key. A parallel that had been applied to those knocked out of the competition. Their participation had guaranteed them free entry to any other bout in the competition all the way up to and including the final.

  Some of the ungracious losers had already left. Whether they’d come back or not for the final, only time would tell. Organisers were expecting them to do so. Tickets to the final of these tournaments were traditionally hard to come by. Amongst the observers in Stadium One, also named the Stronghold, David Wilsin found himself wondering why he’d bothered. It’d be all over every screen on the island in the next five minutes. It’d be all over the five kingdoms in ten minutes. He could be doing something else.

  Still it wasn’t every day you found yourself here. He might as well make the most of it. He’d triumphed in his qualifier, beaten some guy from Serran named Erik Jendrisek, never heard of him before, probably wouldn’t keep an eye out for the future. Easy. Too easy. Wilsin had seen how some of the other callers here had been given those tricky opponents. It was a fine balancing act. Ideally, you’d want enough of a challenge to make you feel like you’d earned it while at the same time not facing someone tough enough to beat you at this stage.

  He’d seen it before; it was never someone who started out strong who won the tournament. There were a lot of bouts between here and the final. The potential for running out of steam was enormous. Not only that but you ideally wanted to build up momentum as you went along. Start off at a jog and break into a sprint at the end. Not run from the start and collapse well short of the finish line. That he had also seen many times.