The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  Do you have a point with this? She found herself wondering, not quite daring to ask it either.

  “I sense your impatience,” he said, almost eerily. “And your surprise. My thoughts in this are that in the circumstances of these individuals, there are turning points in their lives, points that never they thought might be relevant and yet were so important.” He picked one of the items up, the one that Domis had recovered a few months ago unless she was mistaken. The bronze tigress, the bust of Melarius.

  “Be careful with that,” she said.

  “Invariably,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “The Kjarn makes its will clear to those who listen. If it’s to happen, then it will facilitate it. If not, well you haven’t heard of anyone otherwise.” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know how you acquired this piece but it isn’t coincidence. Where I will take you is a door and like most doors there are two ways through it. I intended to force my way in but that is the ill-advised action. No telling what could go through or come back or even if it could be opened and closed again. You don’t want the uncertainty, I imagine.”

  With a sudden violent motion, he hurled the bronze tigress to the ground and before she could even make a sound, lightning erupted out from the tips of his fingers just as he had employed against the interloper.

  A strangled cry died in her throat as she saw it strike the statue and the sparks dance across the brown metal. All those credits and the time tracking it down and it had been wasted. She tried to move towards him, sudden irrational anger coursing through her at the casual destruction of her property but he held out his other arm and an invisible force gripped her tightly in place, too secure to move. She could only watch as the statue dissolved into a puddle of brown goop on her carpet…

  Except…

  Suddenly she could move again and the small item hidden in the confines of the statue floated up into the air between them, a jewel-like shape covered in melted remnants.

  “Or you could use the key,” Wim said simply. “Unnecessarily complicating things has never appealed to me.”

  Chapter Sixty-One. That Which Can and Cannot Be Faked.

  “And when Gilgarus and Melarius first copulated, they gave love to the world. Although they felt nothing for each other before, the product of their union brought it into existence. The first rays of love touched their hearts when their first child, Griselle, was birthed.”

  The first book of Gilgarus, the creation of love.

  The first day of Summerfall.

  His head ached and as he slid his eyes open, he knew immediately that he’d gone too far the night before. A soft moan escaped Scott’s mouth as he rolled over to check the time, finding that it was a little past afternoon to be just a touch distressing. His mouth tasted like sandpaper, he swallowed, found he had no saliva and let out another moan. Okay, the celebrations had been justified but at the same time, massively over the top.

  Some of the memories were already starting to come back to him, the drinking and the dancing… He shifted in bed and felt a stab of pain rush up his arm… Yeah, he’d fallen over at some point. Slipped! He didn’t fall. He was sure there’d been some Vazaran food at some point as well, if the gurgling in his stomach was anything to go by.

  He sat up, glanced around to see if Mia was okay. The bed by his side was empty, her clothes were gone… Had she come back? He couldn’t remember. Sudden rushes of fright passed through him, he racked his memories, hoped he hadn’t done something to upset her. Or insult her. Or both. Groaning, Scott let his head fall back and hit the pillow. Things were going so well as well. His stomach ached, churned and clamoured for his attention. Whatever the hells he’d ingested last night was disagreeing with him this morning.

  He supposed this was why they called it a comedown. The previous day, just wow… So good. Just so awesome, potentially right up there with the chance to be the best day of his life and it may yet be topped. If he won… If! A big if. But more chance of the if coming off than there had been four weeks ago.

  His life had changed since then, Scott reflected, where he had been upon arrival and where he was now, it felt like the lives of two different people. It had been, he supposed, a massively successful tournament for him. He’d won plenty of bouts, just as many admirers, shipped off the potentially biggest most destructive distraction in his life (Jess would have loved to hear him say that about her, he noted with a small grin quickly cut out by an aggressive complaint from his stomach), acquired a potent new spirit and then there was Mia…

  Scott looked in the mirror, found himself grinning like an idiot and quickly stopped. Life felt pretty good right now, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Nothing lasted forever after all.

  Be good if it could. Even if he won in a few days’ time, what did it mean for his future? He harboured no illusions that he really was one of the best in the five kingdoms. Part of him knew that he’d had an exceptionally fortunate draw to get this far. He could already see the media calling him the most undeserving champion of all time… But the upside of that would be that he was still a champion, whether he deserved it or not. The champion of probably the biggest tournament ever seen. And he would be until someone took it off him at the next one. Nothing would take that away from him. He let out a bitter laugh, threw back the covers and got up, rubbing his belly as he did to satisfy a troublesome itch and headed for the shower.

  The hot water scalded his skin, he gritted his teeth together and bore it despite the thousands of tiny hot needles bouncing against him, raking his skin, his hair, burning all the ill feeling away. It wouldn’t be a perfect job but as he closed the water off and stepped out, he felt a little better. By the sink, he reached into the bag and popped an oral mint into his mouth, determined to wipe the taste of the purge from his mouth.

  That hadn’t been pleasant, the sickly bitter taste still permeated through his taste buds and he was hoping this would get rid of it. Several times he sucked vigorously and slowly the minty odour replaced the aftereffect of bile. That was when he heard the door open. He wasn’t worried. What was there to be worried about? Who else was it likely to be but Mia? And if she’d come back, he obviously hadn’t pissed her off.

  “Scott?!” Yeah, that was her. She didn’t sound pissed off. “Where are you?”

  “Shower!” he yelled back. “Out in a minute.” He finished towelling himself off, kicked the towel around the floor to mop up the excess water that had puddled around his feet and then stepped out of the bathroom.

  She wasn’t alone. Of course, she wasn’t. Pete was with her and suddenly Scott found himself wishing he’d wrapped the towel around his waist. Two pairs of eyes glanced over at him, he caught the roll of Pete’s eyes, caught Mia’s smirk and suddenly he wanted the floor to open and swallow him.

  “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” he asked, more out of hope than expectation.

  Pete laughed, just for a moment he sounded more like he had before the whole thing with Sharon. Just for that moment, he sounded like the old Pete once again. “It’s not one of those dreams where we have a threesome, Scott.”

  Mia reached out and punched him on the arm. Still he laughed as he rubbed the sore area. “Oww, seriously? You got a bit of a right hook on you there, love.”

  “Don’t love me,” she said. “Not funny Pete.”

  Scott took that opportunity to nip back into the bathroom, grab up a towel and slip back out, an uneasy grin plastered on his face. He could smell food, saw the bag from Willie’s next to Mia on the bed. And fruit coffee.

  “My patent hangover cure,” Mia said, holding a cup out to him. It smelled like roast strawberries. “Since someone got a bit too OTT last night.”

  “Was a good night though, right?” Scott asked hopefully. The fruit coffee did smell good, he had to admit. “Right?”

  “I’m not going to forget you climbing onto that bar and dancing to Queen RaRa,” Pete said, his smirk growing. “That was hands down one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”
He paused for a few seconds, his face wrapped up in concentration. Falsely so, Scott thought. “By the way, you can’t ever go back to the King Ichehano ever again. Management asked me to relay that message to you.”

  Scott frowned his brow trying to remember the club in question. He vaguely remembered the bar dancing, he felt the colour flood into his face at the recollection. And now he thought harder on the whole thing, he could sort of remember a pair of doormen trying to drag him down and throw him out. They’d been successful as well, unless he was mistaken. Maybe that was why his arm hurt.

  “Yeah that wasn’t my finest moment,” Scott said, glancing sideways at Mia. Still his fruit coffee remained untouched. Gingerly he broke the lid and took a small sip. It was bitterer than he’d expected but filled him with a scouring warmth that he’d found unexpected. “Sorry if I embarrassed you.”

  Pete opened his mouth as if there were something else he wanted to say but thought better about it and clammed up. Instead he shot Scott a grin.

  “You seem in a better mood,” Scott remarked dryly. He took another draw from the coffee cup. “Less mopey.”

  “Want a Willie’s sandwich?” Mia asked. “I brought some.” She reached over and held the bag up. It didn’t take more than a moment to consider it, Scott took the bag from her and shot her a grin. He caught the smell of fried bacon down from the still-warm package and upgraded that grin to a hug.

  “Someone’s affectionate this morning,” she said. “Or this afternoon, whatever.”

  “Ouch,” Scott said struggling with the packet. He glanced out through the cracks in the curtains, saw the blaze of the sun peeking through and winced. “I really sleep through to the afternoon?”

  “Yeah, you looked so adorable asleep,” Mia laughed. “Thought I’d let you. Don’t expect breakfast in bed every morning.”

  “I’ll probably have to get you it at some point now, huh?” Scott grinned. Pete jammed his hands into his pockets and let out a long uncomfortable whistle.

  “Well I wouldn’t say no,” Mia smiled, Scott finally wrestling the sandwich out of the pack and he took a few great bites out of it, feeling the grease run down his chin and the warmth rush through his body. It had been smothered in Willie’s Warm Sauce, a condiment that was a lot better than it sounded with a name like that. “Just enjoy it, yeah?”

  “I wanted to run a joke on you,” Pete said sourly. “Tell you that the final started in fifteen minutes, see how long it took you to realise…”

  “But I told him it wouldn’t be funny,” Mia finished. “You’re welcome.”

  “Wouldn’t have believed you anyway,” Scott said, glancing at Pete. “I’m not that slow and I’d have known you were lying.”

  “You can do that? I don’t think so.” Pete smirked at him. “And besides, I think you might have if you were half asleep and hungover.”

  “Well, you’re back to normal then I see. Crap practical jokes and sarcastic smirks.”

  “Remember that time I swapped your shampoo for hair removal cream?” Pete asked with a grin. “That wasn’t so crap, was it?”

  “Yeah, it was terrible. You didn’t have to wear a hat for three months while it grew back.” Scott furrowed his brow, suddenly breaking into a smile. “And that did backfire on you, remember? Because Je… Someone else also used that shampoo and they weren’t impressed.” It was his turn to break out laughing at the look on Pete’s face.

  “Oh yeah…”

  “Wait, what happened?” Mia asked, a bemused look on her face.

  “Well,” Scott said. “You’re a spirit dancer, right? You remember about a year ago when Jess… Yeah, my ex-girlfriend, don’t make a big thing about it… Remember when she was spirit dancing in a headscarf for several months?”

  “I’m not going to make a big thing about it,” Mia said, shaking her head. “But yeah I think I vaguely do… Oh… She lost her hair?” She suddenly burst out laughing. “Oh my… That’s fantastic, bet it killed her that.”

  “Nearly killed Pete, that’s for damn sure,” Scott said.

  “For starters,” Pete said, his voice annoyed as Scott bit into his sandwich again, munching down through it. “She didn’t nearly kill me, I had it under control the whole time. I was in no real danger. It’d take more than her to kill me. I regular face down rampaging rhinos for fun.”

  “You’ve done that once,” Scott said, licking his fingers where the remnants of the trio of sandwich, sauce and grease lingered. “And it caught you by surprise just as much as it did everyone else. Plus, if I remember right, you didn’t face them down. You ran like a scared little bitch!”

  “You did as well!”

  “Yeah but I’m not professing to incredible bravery on a day to day basis. Also, now we bring it up, that wouldn’t be brave. More like suicidal stupidity.”

  “You two have had some adventures then,” Mia said. “Sounds like good times.”

  “Ah it wasn’t always, you see,” Pete said. “It might have been better if Jesseka hadn’t been there.”

  “You’d have said that about anyone though,” Scott said. “Unless it was just you and me.”

  “Well we did have some great times though. Not just the rhino thing. Which was also your fault if I remember right.”

  “How was it my fault?” Scott protested. He wiped his fingers on a napkin in the bag and went back to his cooling coffee. At the same time, he moved over to Mia, slipped his free arm around her waist and kissed her on the side of the head. He felt her acquiesce to him, her body still warm from the sun outside. “Thanks, snicks.”

  “No problem, flyboy.”

  Pete raised an eyebrow. “Really? You already gave each other nicknames? When the hells did that happen?” Without waiting for an answer, he carried on as if he hadn’t said anything. “Anyway, it was your fault because some idiot decided he was going to train a big fucking fire breathing dragon and the local wildlife got a bit freaked out by the presence of such a big bastard on their turf.”

  “Oh yeah,” Scott said, blanching a little at the memory. “I remember that. Good times. And well, Sangare was a whole lot of help that day as well. About as much as Permear is now. You know, doing that thing where they refuse to completely acknowledge your authority? That sucks! Majorly.”

  “Where is Permear anyway?” Mia wondered. “Haven’t seen him for a while. Not that I’m complaining about that,” she added quickly.

  “He’s still sulking after I didn’t use him in the semi,” Scott said. “I’ll occasionally hear him come out with some sarcastic comment about the way I live my life or the choices I make. I just try to ignore him when he does.”

  “That should go well,” Pete said. “You know ignoring the problem usually doesn’t help, right?”

  “It does for me,” Scott said. “It’s worked for me really well all the way up to this point and I’m not stopping.”

  “Wow,” Pete said to Mia. “And you want to be in a relationship with that guy? Incredible.”

  “Hey, shut up,” Mia said lightly. “Just because you got a bromance going on with him doesn’t mean anyone else isn’t allowed to.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Bromance?” Pete asked. “We’re just good buds.”

  “Yeah,” Scott agreed. “Nothing weird about that.” He glanced down at himself. “I should probably put some clothes on.”

  For what felt like weeks now, Kyra Sinclair had hidden. It couldn’t have been weeks but it felt like it. At most, it had to have been one week. She guessed. The truth was, she didn’t know and it annoyed her. She’d lost a week of her life forced to hide out on this bloody ship, not quite sure if the hammer would fall on her at any moment if she were discovered.

  Not that she worried too much about some of the rank and file discovering her. It was unlikely they’d be able to cause her too many problems. No, but if some of them showed up with kjarnblade burns, then that Vedo would know she was still alive and he’d be bound to hunt her down. She held no illusions as to whethe
r she could best him, he’d matched her once despite having no weapon. In hindsight, she hadn’t been attempting to kill him so the matchup hadn’t been as poor on her part as one might expect. Hidden and hunted like an animal. It was the way it needed to be for now but it didn’t mean it didn’t piss her off. Far from it.

  She needed to escape, she wanted out of here but it wasn’t as simple as finding a back door and slipping out of it. She’d tried that already once and had nearly died for it. She needed another plan and preferably one that worked, one where she got out of here unscathed. Kyra had all but healed her wounds, moving from area to area between meditations to avoid too much of a concentration of energy in one place. That could be tracked to lethal effect.

  She was playing a dangerous game as it was but it was a necessity. As the injuries had healed, she’d carefully set out to explore her surroundings, mindful always of what could happen if discovered. Over time she’d found a ship-issue jumpsuit and had put it on to avoid attracting suspicion. At least she could walk around inconspicuously.

  Nobody had given her a second glance… Well almost nobody. Nobody important. The crew around here were an odd bunch, a mix between those with the strange overlapping Kjarn presence and those that felt normal. If there was an explanation, it was beyond her now. Not without further information. She’d tucked her blade into one of the deep pockets of the clothing and tried to get comfortable wearing the sky blue and green jumpsuit that was just a little too big around the shoulders and the waist. She’d rolled them up four times at her wrists and ankles, just to be able to walk comfortably. So far, she was amazed nobody had noticed and commented.