The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  He’d been here in the locker room for half an hour now, just waiting for the signal to get out onto the field. Any sort of fatigue he’d felt was long gone now, he just felt wired, restless, he wanted to get out on that field and give it everything he’d got. And if it wasn’t good enough, well that radio presenter had been right. It was still just the start of his career really. Most callers never even got close to winning this tournament, he’d done well. Runner up at his age, it hadn’t really been done before. He could be the youngest ever winner even beyond that.

  He heard a sound at the door, looked up and saw them. Mia, Pete, Matt, even the crystal tech Sam N’Kong who’d done so much to help him with Permear. The friendship had stuck, surprisingly. He and Mia had already promised to go see him in Vazara at some point down the line. All four of them were wearing t-shirts with his face on them, a sign of showing their support for him which he appreciated. The vendors outside the stadium were doing a roaring trade in them, or so he’d heard. A few contestants had tried to get him to sign their shirts earlier, which he’d obliged with. He’d never been asked to sign merchandise before, it was a surprisingly good feeling.

  “Hey,” Matt said with a grin. “Are you ready?”

  “Oh yeah,” Scott said, standing up. It was all he could do to stop himself jumping up and down on the spot. Right now, he had so much energy it was spooky, he could feel it rushing through him. All thoughts of fatigue truly were gone. “I woke up ready.”

  “It’s true, he did,” Mia said. “He was arguing with Permear at an undivine hour earlier. Really unsettling. Believe me on that.”

  “Good luck, Scott,” Sam said. “You’re going to beat this guy, I know it.”

  “Yeah,” Pete agreed, striding in to pump his hand. Scott took a deep breath then pulled him in and hugged him, much to Pete’s surprise. “Oh hey, what’s this! We hugging now? I don’t do that, bud!”

  “Told you I’d make it. Way back in Burykia right before it started, I said I’d make it, didn’t I?” Scott couldn’t hide his grin. “Only you seemed to think I’d be facing you in this match.”

  “Yeah well, I miscalculated with my guess, didn’t I?”

  “No, you were wrong,” Scott said, almost singing it. “I had a little dance and everything. Not going to do it though. Not unless I win.”

  “You’ve got to win,” Mia said. “If you don’t, I’m leaving you… Kidding! Kidding!” she finished, seeing the look on his face. “Nah, I’ll love you win or lose. And don’t worry,” she added with a wink. “I’m staying away from deep water.”

  Pete furrowed his brow at that, looking first at her, then at Scott as if the answer behind it was going to present itself. When none was forthcoming, he let it go.

  “Good luck, Scott,” Sam said, walking over to grasp his hand firmly and pump it twice before squeezing the fingers in a vaguely Vazaran style. He’d never gotten it but he’d heard it symbolised affection or something. They had a whole range of gestures in that line, you needed to have grown up with it or something to understand them all. If his dad hadn’t fucked off, he might have gotten it… That was weird. He hadn’t thought about his dad for a very long time. It was a difficult task given he knew very little about him in the first place being honest. His mom had never talked about him, even before she’d passed on.

  “Thanks, Sam,” he said. “Nice to see you come out.”

  The tech laughed. “Seriously, as if I were going to miss premium seats for this on my own. Nice for you to invite me as your guest.”

  “Well you did a lot to help me when I needed it, you’re a good guy… I had a larger allocation than I needed…” Scott mused. It was true, he’d gotten a message from the ICCC telling him he was entitled to five free premium grade tickets for his entourage. He’d almost laughed at the idea he had an entourage but he’d handed them out to those who’d been there for him when he’d needed help. Already the four of them were wearing their VIP passes, looking very smug about it in the process. He was keeping that last ticket, determined to hold onto it as a collectible in hopes that its value would skyrocket in the years to come. Especially if, as rumoured, this was the last Quin-C they did for a while, what with all the stuff going on. It felt like only time would tell.

  “Wish me luck, guys,” he said, managing a grin. Ten more minutes until he had to be getting out onto that field for the preliminary announcements and suddenly his stomach was starting to feel like the bottom had been yanked away. “I might just need a little bit extra to get me over the line.”

  Sam shook his hand again, a different style this time, five pumps and no squeeze but there was a wave in it, he hoped it was good luck or good fortune or something, Matt just gave him a normal high five. Pete hugged him, the two of them embracing for a few seconds before awkwardly splitting apart, their eyes not meeting. At least he’d avoided making a quip that’d have made them both uncomfortable.

  “Good luck, bud,” Pete said. “You’ll do it.”

  Mia kissed him, kept her lips locked against his to the point that time seemed to have no meaning to him, everything else beyond was little more than a blur of sight and sound. All he knew was her eyes as the two of them held each other.

  “Hope you weren’t expecting that from me, mate,” Pete quipped as they broke away. Mia playfully hit him on the arm.

  “Go,” she said. “Be fabulous. Win. We’ll all be cheering you on.”

  “Better be,” Scott grinned. “Bye guys.”

  Oh divines! Theo stepped out onto the field, saw the podium was all set up and the great and the good of the ICCC were already milling about waiting for their cue. The great and the good part meant entirely ironically. He rolled his eyes, stuck his hands into his pockets and made a conscious decision he wasn’t going to share the limelight with them if he could help it. Instead he strode to his caller area, mindful that he wasn’t going to do it anonymously as a great cheer broke out to greet him as he strode across the field, a hundred thousand people screaming his name. It wasn’t unpleasant. He’d already made up his mind he was going to savour every moment today, no matter the result.

  The battlefield itself was bare, not a hint of grass or ice or stone upon it as there had been in previous rounds. No, here it was the ultimate test of skill, to be able to fight not just against the opponent but the battlefield as well. He shook his head, didn’t need that sort of propaganda floating around in it. A battlefield was a battlefield, he’d conquer it. He’d left Anne behind in his locker room, she’d given him a small kiss on the cheek which had felt nice, her breath had been warm on his neck, her lips soft against the day-old stubble. In the excitement, he’d forgotten to shave. Too much on his mind.

  Most of the ICCC delegation he didn’t recognise, he knew of Ritellia and Thomas Jerome of course, no mistaking those two men, little and large stood side by side at the podium, chatting with each other as if they didn’t have a care in the world. If the rumours were true, then he was surprised by how stress-free Ritellia looked. He also recognised Adam Evans stood behind them, a serene look as he examined the arena around them, focusing his eyes in on the crowd. Evans always gave the impression he knew exactly what was going on, more than that, he looked like he cared about what was going on.

  His opponent had emerged, closer to the stage than Theo was, but that was up to him. He’d looked it up, there was nothing in the rules that said he had to pander to the dignitaries, that he was aware of. If he could avoid the slimy piece of shit, then he gladly would. Ritellia had that look about him that given the chance he’d be able to offend all five senses. Theo had no desire to even speak to him.

  The klaxon horn broke out over the stadium, having the sobering effect of silencing the crowd, making Theo jump and he cursed the idiot who’d decided to play it. No doubt they were killing themselves laughing somewhere at the way that their action had gotten a reaction. He clenched his fists, kept them at his side but secretly wanted to go for his summoner.

  Ritellia broke away from
Jerome, a big sickly grin on his face if the giant screen atop the stadium was accurate. He bent down, picked up the microphone and turned his great body around to look at the crowd, one part of the stadium at a time. Someone booed him, a few ripples of laughter broke out. Theo was close enough to see the flash of annoyance on his face. Still he didn’t let it put him off as he started to speak. Far in the crowd, another one yelled traitor. That garnered even more of a reaction but still he stayed professional.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the five kingdoms,” he said, his voice hoarse. He didn’t sound well, Theo noted. Maybe he’d gotten off his deathbed for this. Everyone could only hope, to say that Ritellia wasn’t well liked was an understatement. The master of self-interest and all that. “Has it really been six weeks since I first stood before you to announce that this magnificent tournament was about to get underway? I can’t believe it has, how quickly the time does fly when the good times are rife. We’ve all enjoyed it, I hope, we’ve seen some exciting moments and some sadness as well. I can only hope that the good outweighs the bad when it comes to the memory of this landmark event. We can never wholly forget those who have been lost to us during this time, nor should we. But…”

  It sounded insincere event to Theo who folded his arms and rolled his eyes, aware even now that a camera was probably picking up his reaction somewhere. He didn’t care. His disrespect wasn’t to the dead but to the hollow words given out by Ritellia. “But that was then and this is now. In a few short hours, it’ll all be over for another five years, five years of uncertainty and strife. I can only hope that our prestigious entertainment provides solace in the hard times to come, that the memories of what we produced can be a reminder that harsh times come and they go but we all endure.

  Endurance is the only way to describe our two young competitors. Nobody had ever heard of them before the start of the tournament, indeed one of them only came in as a wild card entry and while some of us might have hoped for two more established names to be fighting it out to the finish, I’m sure these two combatants will give their all and make it a final to remember. Neither of them has anything to fear. Except defeat.” His face split into a smile, as if he were expecting laughter from the crowd. If he was, then he was to be sorely disappointed. Deathly silence followed his quip.

  Eye rolling had turned into head shaking now from Theo, how dare that fat bastard criticise him and that Taylor kid for daring to make the final ahead of someone with a bigger name. Reading between the lines of what he’d said, it was all he could do not to stride on the stage and whack him upside of the head. But that’d create headlines for all the wrong reasons and being arrested would probably mean he automatically had to forfeit the match. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had taken a swing at Ritellia during the last few weeks, he could remember Nick Roper doing it at Arventino’s funeral and he’d laughed himself stupid at seeing it. But now wasn’t his time to do it.

  “So, I’m sure that’s what we all want to see, and thank you for humouring an old man with the time to speak,” Ritellia said. “I give you Scott Taylor and Theobald Jameson. But first, a song for the brave and the departed, a song for the young and those whose desire burns hot in their hearts. A prayer and a memory. I give you Teri-Lyn Quick.”

  Theo almost choked. Now he’d seen it all, the president of the ICCC introducing a singer to the stage. Then again, he remembered, it was standard now he thought about it. Always happened. Always they started with a song. His thoughts had been elsewhere the last several hours, this couldn’t have been further from his interest if it’d tried.

  Teri-Lyn Quick was in her mid-twenties, her ice blond hair a sharp contrast to her coffee coloured skin. She wore a white dress that sparkled with shimmers of blue and green as she strode out to the centre of the battlefield, Theo’s eyes following her every high-heeled footstep. Overall, he wasn’t a great fan of music, but even he had to admit she had a great voice. Figures they’d get someone local to sing the tournament’s closing song. On the big screen above, it showed a close-up of her thick sensuous lips lined with a scarlet gloss and her perennially innocent-looking grey eyes rimmed with black, the silver stud in her nose glinting in the afternoon sun.

  “Hey, y’all,” she said in an accent that wasn’t entirely local. Theo was surprised. There was some Premesoiran in her by the sounds of it. “Got this for y’all to hear. The last chance I’ll ever take. Enjoy and peace out. Love each other.” The crowd went wild for her, more than they had done for anything Ritellia had had to say. And then she started to sing.

  “Fire walk with me

  Come save me from the days

  Take me home, take me high

  You and I, we’ll see the sky

  Drift so high and spread the sun

  Feel it burn against our skin

  You’ll say my name, I’ll melt away

  Save the passion for just one more day

  The nights are cold and you’re burning hot

  Your memories are all I have

  The good, the bad, the not so cool

  Reach in and spread the word

  Him and me, you know we’re through

  Divines smile, they want me to

  But you, you’re all I need to set me free

  The last chance I’ll ever take.”

  A lot of the crowd were on their feet, forming a sea of waving arms, Theo found he was tapping his foot along with it. That surprised him more than he wanted to admit.

  “Battles come and battles go

  Women cry and men bellow

  Fires burn, passions hot, you and me

  We just keep firing, ashes in the sky

  All we want, we just can’t have

  Because baby, we’re just passing through

  Through life, through love, through ecstasy

  Better believe, you won’t take the sky from me

  It’s our time to be so young and just so old

  Freak like me, monster like you

  The last face I’ll see when the lights go out

  The way it should be.

  You can do it if you really try.

  Take everything I am, make it your own.

  Divines smile, they want me to.

  You’re all I need to set me free

  You’ll be the last chance I ever take.”

  It was an abridged version of the song, Scott knew that. Not that he cared. If it was meant to psych him up for a fighting mood, it had probably had the opposite effect, he’d found it rather sobering truth be told. Still that was it. Time to go. Ritellia and the dignitaries had already made their way off the battlefield, a few dozen locals were moving the stage and the podium already to the side. It’d be where the trophy was presented to the winner. Baxter had given it back, Theo had missed that. He wanted to be stood up there so badly, it hurt, like he’d been stabbed in the stomach. He couldn’t leave anything behind. Scott looked out into the crowd, out to the area where Pete and Mia and his friends all should be sat but he couldn’t see them individually.

  This was where it ended. He found his poise and made his choice. A strong start from a spirit that had never let him down yet. No regrets. He stared across the plain floor of the battlefield and drew a deep breath. The video referee had gone through all the rigmarole; they were giving him the all clear to make his first choice. He had to pick first. Of course, he did. Hopefully the only setback he’d face.

  “Okay Palawi,” he muttered. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Chapter Seventy-Two. Final Battles.

  “Finals are usually tense, cagey affairs. It’s very important not to lose them early on and the fighters pick up on that, adjust their tactics accordingly. I don’t expect this one to be very different.”

  Prideaux Khan before the Quin-C final.

  The ninth day of Summerfall.

  His opponent went canine as well, bringing out a huge one-eyed wolf that dwarfed Palawi in size. The dog immediately bared his teeth, small needles compared to the giant knif
e-like fangs that filled the wolf’s mouth. The first of six spirits he had to knock out to get the trophy. Scott had seen this beast before, he remembered the semi-final when Theo had used it against Kitti Sommer and her svartwolf. So therefore, in theory, he knew what to expect.

  Of course, he reflected as the buzzer went, knowing what to expect and dealing with it were two different things. The one-eyed wolf tore across towards Palawi the moment the starting buzzer went and he grit his teeth. If it was going to charge in like that…

  Charge away!

  That last part went out to Palawi who obliged with a blast of electricity straight into the wolf at point blank range, the charge rupturing through the lupine and Scott held his breath for a moment as he saw its legs buckle. Surely it wouldn’t be that easy…

  It wasn’t. He shouldn’t have expected it to be. Even with spasming muscles and burns across its pelt, the wolf managed to get back up and bare blackened teeth at Palawi in anger. That one good eye was twitching. Theo looked furious, maybe not with Palawi but most likely with himself. Scott let his breath go, already turning over strategies in his mind. He wasn’t about to go rushing in, not against something much bigger and stronger than Palawi was. And he wasn’t under the illusion that that thing couldn’t rip his dog apart given a chance. Maybe best just to hold back, hit the thing with counter attacks. It wasn’t immune to electricity but it was going to take a fair few blasts to down it.

  The one-eyed wolf continued to growl, jaws half open, Scott felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck and…

  Move! Now!

  Palawi lunged away to the side, the split second before a uniblast ripped out of those jaws and shot across the arena, tearing a huge gouge in the ground where the dog had been holding position a moment earlier. Scott swore under his breath, was immensely grateful he’d caught that just in time. He’d seen the faint glow on the wolf’s breath, more than that he’d expected something like it to come. And he was relieved he had. He couldn’t let it slide, a blast of electricity swept back towards the one-eyed wolf who nimbly skipped out the way and then charged in again.