The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  Personally, he’d rather be the other way. Defend for most of it and then come strong at the end. It’s not how you start but how you finish. Those words had defined most of his career, been the bedrock of his strategy, the cornerstone of his planning. The first bit of advice he’d ever been given in regards of spirit calling.

  The svartwolf went for the one-eyed wolf’s throat, big crushing jaws clamping down around them. Scott winced, the crowd went wild as they once again sensed something violent coming. Twisting ferociously the svartwolf looked all on to win, the one-eyed wolf was fading out…

  Then came the blinding light and the thunderous crack following the wet squelching rip, Scott instinctively threw a hand up in front of his eyes to block out the eye searing rake. He blinked away sunspots, saw that…

  Huh…

  Both spirits were down, both were defeated. The svartwolf had something red and glistening caught between its jaws as it lay in a crumpled heap, most of its fur and muscle burned away by the uniblast. Bone could be seen in places, protruding ugly through shattered flesh. The one-eyed wolf on the other hand was missing most of its head.

  Scott nodded to himself. He wasn’t sure if a draw would do him any good here and now because both would be out to beat him. If they both did, he’d be out. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Still interesting to know Theo’s strategy still hadn’t changed that much. He’d seen his spirit was doomed so he’d gone for the suicide attack. The one-eyed wolf’s throat had just been about to be torn out, not much could survive that so he’d chosen the devastating power of an imperfect uniblast. With it being fired from the mouth and therefore up through the throat, and the throat being blocked up by the svartwolf’s teeth, the power had built up and up, reaching critical levels until the throat had been ripped away and the blockage removed. Kaboom. No wonder the one-eyed wolf was missing a head. Theo had obviously decided gambling for a point was better than losing all three.

  In a way, Scott appreciated that sense of ruthlessness that his opponent would have in spades. In another entirely different one, he worried about what that might mean for when he faced him.

  That time had come quickly. It had been an hour since he’d been stood in the stands watching but it only felt like minutes, the seconds rushing by and Scott was starting to feel a little queasy about the whole thing as he strode onto the battlefield, ready to begin his first semi match. Theo across the field, still the same grassy backdrop but with hasty work done to repair the mangled sections, gave him a cold tight-lipped smirk. Scott got the impression that he was looking way too forward to this. Hands in his pockets, his gaze trailed the last of the grounds staff off the field.

  He already had his summoner in his hand and Scott’s nerves were growing by the second. It was the first time any of the contestants had been here at anything approaching a match of this magnitude and he’d have been amazed if he was the only one to be nervy like this.

  Still his opponent exuded calm impatience and it worried him perhaps more than it should have. Somewhere in the background, he was aware that the stadium announcer was going through the rules for the benefit of anyone who’d been living under a rock for not just the past several days but also weeks and months and even years if you didn’t know how the previous tournaments had gone on. He could hear the dull thud of Theo tapping his foot impatiently on the soft ground of his caller area, he could hear the throbbing anticipatory hum of the crowd all around him. Mia was somewhere out there, Mia and Pete and Matt and probably even Samandou N’Kong and although he didn’t know where, he could feel that reassurance from their presence. If he extended out and focused, he might be able to place them but that wasn’t important. The where didn’t matter as much as the actuality, he knew that they were there and that was all that mattered.

  Across from him, the video referee was whirring into life, Scott took a few moments of comfort in that one familiar crumb of comfort and then he mentally berated himself.

  Pull yourself together, you dick! This is the single biggest opportunity of your life and you’ll never forgive yourself if you throw it away! You might never do this again so you best have no regrets!

  He felt a little better at that. Not much but some. He had a strategy and he’d have to stick with it. He could even feel Permear tugging at his attention, the ghost perched in his shadow but he ignored him. This wouldn’t be the ghost’s fight.

  Theo sent out a huge grizzly bear and Scott grimaced. Huge didn’t even start to cover it, the giant bear towered over them bot. Its claws were the size of Scott’s fingers and looked sharp enough to punch through steel. Still he’d done his research on his opponent and he’d made provisions over what he’d used to counter every possible combination.

  His own spirit materialised from his summoner and Snooze entered the fray, the two ursine combatants easily matched in height though Snooze had a huge edge in bulk. Snooze’s fur was thick and damaging it wasn’t easy. If he was hoping for some sort of roar and a show of bear pride, he was to be disappointed by his own spirit. The grizzly let out an angry bellow and rose to its hind legs, Snooze only grunted and scratched his gut.

  “So, we have slow and sleepy versus angry and even angrier,” the stadium announcer remarked dryly. “Let the second semi-final begin on the referee’s mark. Aaaaaaaand… We’re off!”

  Already Scott had to react quickly as a uniblast erupted from the grizzly’s mouth and he ordered Snooze to fall backwards and evade it. The bright orange beam seared through the air, catching the top of his bear’s head but other than the smell of singed fur, it didn’t appear to have done much. Snooze wasn’t going to be much use with nippy evasive tactics but had enough weight to fall quickly and evade that way. The bad news was he was now on his back, temporarily vulnerable until he rolled back into a standing position… Mia had helped him develop that technique, the roll being one of the spirit dancer’s tricks. Granted it had worked a lot better when smaller spirits like Seasel and Palawi were doing it, Snooze and Sangare had shown trouble with it. Permear had just stared at him like he was nuts and walked off. Still if he ever needed something to work…

  It did. Just about. Snooze twisted his neck back and forth, flexing the powerful muscles under the fur. Just because Snooze sometimes resembled the average house in width, it didn’t mean he wasn’t strong. Underneath that fat was enough muscle to crush the average house into tinder. In an instant, the grizzly was upon him, punching its giant paws out like a great shaggy shadow fighter, a flurry of blows bouncing off Snooze’s copious belly. The sloth-bear gave his smaller opponent a puzzled look and then on Scott’s command, backhanded it viciously and Scott felt a momentary thrill as the grizzly was sent hurtling backwards across the arena, bouncing off the shield and down to the grass. That had to have hurt. Had to be some broken bones at least.

  If there was, it showed no sign of them, Theo’s lip curled into a sneer and he folded his arms as the grizzly rose to its feet and shook itself off. “Griz,” he barked. “You’re not really taking that, are you?”

  Griz bellowed out in disagreement and sent another uniblast screaming towards Snooze, Scott already going for the same evasive tactics as he had before. It might have worked, had the aim been directed at Snooze. Instead it tore through the ground at the sloth-bear’s paws, creating a big groove through the earth. Snooze tried to roll again, suddenly struggling in hot mud and earth threatening to boil under his bulk. Burns covered his fur and then Griz was upon him, not in any way debilitated by any injuries it might have had. Those big claws raked into Snooze’s exposed rump and it was the sloth-bear’s turn to let out sounds of pain as blood was drawn.

  Just as the wolf had earlier, that memory flashed through Scott’s head and he had Snooze kick out blindly, but it was slow and cumbersome and Griz was nimble enough to evade it, shuffling down onto all fours and darting out the way before the powerful jaws bit down on Snooze’s other leg, tearing into the muscle at the back. Still Snooze struggled to get up in the slippe
ry mud, more and more burns and filth covering his hide by the second as he flailed in the sludge, all while Griz worried at the exposed leg.

  It took an almighty strength but finally Scott managed to coax a retaliation out of his spirit and he felt the flash of pain surge through him as Snooze managed to kick Griz off him. It had very quickly gone sour, he noted as he studied his spirit. Snooze was bleeding and burnt, could barely hold his weight on one side where fangs had torn into muscle and hamstring. Griz wasn’t unscathed but, and he could have sworn he could almost feel it, the anger rushing through it was keeping it strong. Rather than succumbing to its injuries, it was ignoring them in blind rage, fighting through broken bones and bleeding wounds. It charged again, Snooze threw out a fist to try and push it back but it fell well short and in moments, the grizzly was on Snooze’s arm, ripping out chunks of flesh and fur by the mouthful.

  He could hear Snooze’s wails of pain, couldn’t do anything to avail them right now. The sloth-bear hurled out his other arm, crashed it into Griz’s side with the blunt claws out, the grizzly bellowed half in pain, half in shock as it was knocked away, the breath forced from its lungs. Snooze lowered his head at Scott’s command, half lumbered, half fell forward with the intent of delivering a brutal head butt. With all that weight behind it, Scott had seen it flatten spirits bigger than this grizzly.

  It landed, he fought the urge to wince as he heard the crunch of skull against skeleton, saw the flash of light all too late as the grizzly went with the momentum of the blow, already hurtling backwards at the same time the uniblast came back in the opposite direction. This time he did screw up his face in dismay as the huge blast almost completely engulfed Snooze’s face. Griz landed hard but the sloth-bear landed worse, piled in an untidy broken heap, with no chance of getting back up. Worse, Griz did rise again, slowly standing up proudly and bellowing a roar of triumph.

  Just for a few seconds, the stadium fell into silence as the crowd tried to work out what had happened. And then the applause started slowly, breaking out into the rapturous as the announcer went along with it, screaming out how Theobald Jameson had become the first spirit caller to make the final of this year’s Competitive Centenary Calling Challenge Cup and Theo was there looking a little sheepish with the attention.

  Somehow Anne Sullivan had found her way onto the field and there she was embracing him amidst all the attention. Scott pulled his gaze away from them, looked at Snooze. He’d seen more devastating injuries but there was something about the great furless face with the melted shut eyelids that filled him with sorrow. Despite himself, he walked out and gave the sloth-bear a pat on his mangled head.

  “Sorry dude,” he said. “Better luck next time.”

  “Told ya bagmeat,” Permear said from his shadow. “Should have used me.”

  He really didn’t like a told you so. Especially not from Permear, especially not right now.

  It was perhaps the most uncomfortable moment of the entire tournament for him so far, Theo reflected as he found himself facing down the cameras, all the journalists determined to get him for the first quotes following his triumph. It should have been the most satisfying but… Natch. He grimaced, adjusted his jacket and tried his best to plaster a smile across his face. He was aware it made him look a little unsettled but to hells with them. He was doing them a favour by talking to them. Anne had already slipped away, nice of her to stick around for this, but it had been nice of her to show up like that. Really nice. She’d been warm as she’d hugged him and he’d noticed she smelled nice. Like some sort of flower, he guessed. Don’t ask him what sort. They’d hugged close and he’d enjoyed it, enjoyed the closeness and he’d looked down at her to see her smiling.

  “I like it too,” she’d said in that way that she did, that all too creepy manner before fading away into the background. It felt just a little distant now.

  “Before you all start,” he said to the media. There had been something preying on his mind for a while now and he wanted to get it away from his chest. Something he needed to say. “I just want to make a statement.” He cleared his throat, waited for their chatter to die down and then he spoke. “I’m glad I get the chance to say this as finalist and at this point, the favourite to win it.”

  It might have sounded arrogant, he meant it to in its truth. He was the favourite as the only qualifier so far. He hoped that Taylor kid made it through to the final, he’d be a lot easier to beat than Sommer. Not that it meant much really on the day. “Everything I’ve gone through in my life so far has got me here, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I just want to thank some people. Anne Sullivan for one, just for…”

  He almost tripped over the words, they felt so unfamiliar in his mouth. “… Just for being one of the most wonderful women I’ve ever had the fortune to meet. I’d like to thank my opponents for granting me some semblance of a challenge on the way here. And I’d like to acknowledge my father for it. Because we might not always have agreed on things, well some things anyway. But in a way, he shaped who I became more than anyone else and I know that. And I suppose the message I want to pass to him, wherever he might be, look at me now you bastard!” Gloating felt good. Especially at that fucker’s expense. To say that their family reunions, when they happened, would be terse affairs would be putting it mildly. “I don’t care what you think or what you care because I did it! Suck on that!”

  He grinned at the cameras. This time it felt more natural, more genuine. He was enjoying that moment. Even the knowledge that the ICCC would likely be swinging a fine his way wasn’t something he was too concerned about. “Sorry about that. But it needed to be said. I’ve looked forward to that for the whole tournament. Any further questions?”

  Now Scott was pissed off as he paced his changing room. Just a few more minutes and he’d be making his way out there to decide his future, whether he went home now or later. Then again, even if he lost, he’d probably stick around for the final. It had to be done, he supposed. How many other chances would he get to attend a Quin-C final, even if it was one he could have competed in rather than watching?

  Still he had to concede that Theo’s words were a little funny, even if he’d heard the venom in them. Some people really had issues. It made him think of his own dad, whoever he may be. Scott had never met him; his mom had never told him anything about him other than his name had been Ronald and he’d been from Vazara. That second part he’d probably have been able to guess at, given the chance. He wondered if his own father would be watching. If he’d know it was his son. If he’d care.

  Whether he did or didn’t, it wouldn’t matter to Scott. He still intended to win, no matter what.

  It was with that mantra echoing through him that he strode back out onto the battlefield, swapping ends for this round, moving to the same one Theo had stood in for the previous bout. Callers could be a superstitious lot given the chance, Theo had picked that end undoubtedly because he’d not lost in there in the first bout. The way Scott looked at it, putting Sommer into the other caller area meant she was in one that neither semi-finalist had won in so far. It might play some part in her mind, it might just give him an edge.

  He hoped, anyway.

  Let’s play, Kitti. All the cameras around the stadium, one of them must have caught his grin. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had come across as a bit idiotic but he didn’t care. This was his time, this was his chance and he needed to take it.

  Sommer was even more imposing in the flesh, arms folded in a position mirrored by the garj in front of her. Scott had studied her choice for a moment, seen those blades and considered going with Becko to fight it like for like, blades versus blades but he decided against it.

  Although the grassy backdrop in the stadium would benefit his leaf lizard, he didn’t want to turn it into a fight on her terms. Doubtless that thought was somewhere in her mind, she undoubtedly knew about Becko and maybe, that was what she was trying to do. If you could make your opponent fight on your terms, then you we
re halfway there. The stories about Sommer went that she was a meticulous study; she could guess at what you’d do before you could even plan it. That unnerved him a little, hence he’d already made the choice to be as unpredictable as possible. He didn’t go with Palawi or Sangare or even Permear, despite the ghost’s angry mutterings.

  He went with Sludge, already bracing himself as the spirit materialised on the grassy battlefield and the stadium was filled with the stench of rotting filth. The garj, blessed with enhanced senses immediately recoiled, its caller wrinkling her nose. Some sections of the crowd started to mutter in the front row. He was sure he could hear someone upchucking their dinner. Already going for shock and awe tactics then, he smirked to himself. The video referee looked unperturbed by it, for obvious reasons and continued to rattle on the rules for the bout.

  Scott tried not to think about how he’d acquired Sludge, a beast that lurked in swamps and sewers, something exceptionally predatorial and carnivorous. He resembled nothing so much as a pile of mud and dirty water, two great luminous eyes hovering above its cavernous mouth. Like a sand hound, a mud-stalker’s body was exceptionally hard to damage, its skin loose and liquid rubbery, a semi-permeable membrane difficult to gain a purchase on. That they were poisonous as well made touching them difficult with anything less than a full body hazard suit. Browns and purples and ugly reds swirled across the grass as he hoisted himself up and turned to look at the caller. Scott had always had a theory that there was hidden intelligence inside something that didn’t look like it had much of a mind.

  There had been occasions throughout this tournament he’d toyed with using Sludge but something in the deep recesses of his mind had told him that the moment would come. That time had come, it appeared. He grinned at Kitti Sommer who had at least looked to have regained some composure. She rolled her eyes in his direction. If she was bothered by the smell, she didn’t show it.