But Arken had already stepped out of the way. When the flying mud and dazzling light cleared, Siryyk turned, still dizzy, and faced the clumsy gargoyle again. Other monster fighters had gathered around to watch the duel.
Siryyk struck a second time, but the moment before his stinger touched the slow-moving gargoyle, Arken's stone arms and legs flowed back into a shapeless boulder. The manticore's tail exploded the rock into flying sharp shards.
Then Arken emerged from another boulder by his side, fashioning stone arms and legs and striding forward out of the rock. Before Siryyk could turn, Arken slammed his fist into the manticore's leonine body, cracking ribs.
Siryyk reared up, bringing both paws together in a hammering blow. He caught the gargoyle's two wings between them and snapped off the sheets of stone. He struck with the stinger once more, but again the gargoyle vanished from the rock. The manticore felt drained, propped up only by the anger and the pain in his body. He had already expended most of his power.
Behind him, Arken strode forward out of a new rock, but this time he seemed thicker, more clumsily formed. He moved much slower.
Siryyk turned to attack with his weakened stinger, and the gargoyle slid out of the boulder, escaping into yet another rock. The manticore's small bolt of power only splintered pieces of the stone surface.
Siryyk turned around and around, looking for the gargoyle to reappear. His head still screamed from the pain of the first punch from Arken's fist; his cracked ribs sent stabs through his chest. But he could not show weakness in front of the other monsters.
He found one boulder slowly moving. Its outline pushed and reformed into a vague silhouette of Arken. But the figure seemed only half-completed, and then it stopped all motion, looking like a statue that had weathered away over the centuries. Siryyk panted and stared, wondering what the gargoyle's trick was.
But nothing happened. The gargoyle did not move farther, all his energy expended. The monsters began to whisper; some cheered.
Siryyk strode forward, trying not to limp, and used his left paw to topple the petrified gargoyle. Arken broke in half among the other rocks.
Delrael stood atop the ice fortress, shading his eyes to make out the last details of Arken's duel. The gargoyle failed in the end.
Delrael clenched his fist, seeing the knuckles turn white in the cold. He looked around at the other towers, where the sentries observed in silence. The wind whipped around the blocky battlements where more characters watched the duel. He heard their indrawn mutterings of disappointment.
Enrod had not even stayed to watch Arken's contest. Instead, the Sentinel wandered through the ice fortress, speaking out loud to no one, stopping, and turning back the way he had come. He seemed to be debating with himself.
Arken's fight stirred up the monster horde, though. The Slac general stood beside the wounded manticore as the other creatures waved weapons and yelled curses at the ice walls.
One of the sentries on the opposite tower called out and pointed. Several characters on the battlements looked down, craning their necks to see.
Across the snow ran a single figure dressed in armor and carrying a sword. Faint words drifted back in the cold air as the character shouted a challenge at the monsters. "Will no one fight me in single combat?" The figure stopped some distance from the monsters, planted feet squarely in the snow, and held the sword high.
"What!" Delrael blinked his eyes in astonishment. "Who is that?"
The creatures shouted and rushed forward, clattering their weapons. The single human figure did not move from the battle stance.
"Who is that?" Delrael shouted again, turning around.
Romm scrambled up the tower stairs and stood out of breath. "It's Siya!" he said. He gulped in a breath. "She took a sword and some armor."
"What?" Delrael grabbed onto the balcony wall. "Siya!" he bellowed as loud as he could into the wind. She couldn't hear him. He whirled back at Romm. "What the hell is she doing?"
Reeling and angry, the manticore stormed forward to her. Siryyk snarled at the other monsters readying their arrows and spears. "The human is mine!"
Romm beat a fist against the ice wall. "We have to march now, Delrael! Get every fighter out there. We can save her."
But Delrael saw the monsters approaching her only seconds away. They could never even get down the stairs in time. "It won't do any good," he whispered.
Siya looked ridiculously puny in front of the enormous manticore. Her sword looked too small to cause damage even if Siryyk did nothing at all to defend himself.
"Delrael!" Romm cried. "We have to go now!"
Delrael whirled to snap at him. "It'll take at least half an hour to get our army out there. Think! She's going to die in the next few minutes!"
With a flurry of smoke and fire, Rognoth burst into the air from behind the ice fortress. The sunlight glinted off his silvery-blue scales; his wings swirled the snow as he swooped down over the monster army.
"Leave her alone!" the dragon shrilled.
Siya craned her head upward, pointing her sword in the air. Rognoth coughed out short bursts of fire, torching four of the nearest creatures. The backbeat of his wings demolished a pavilion set up on the packed ground.
The manticore reared back at his true enemy. Rognoth flew down, attempting to land in front of Siryyk, but instead he crashed full into the monster commander.
Siya stumbled backward, away from the battle between dragon and manticore. Delrael, thinking fast, shouted down to the other gathered fighters. "Send Ydaim Trailwalker and Tayron Tribeleader! They're our fastest runners! Go fetch Siya! Take her away from there."
Siryyk reached up with both powerful forepaws and wrapped them around Rognoth's neck. The curved lion's claws scraped on silver scales, sending up a shower of sparks.
Rognoth threw his weight forward, pushing his leverage. His wings flapped, driving him farther. His own forelegs were weak, but he spat fire onto the manticore's back and neck.
Siryyk twisted around to bring his scorpion tail up. Its end flickered with a skittering blue glow. The stinger struck and struck again into Rognoth's armored side. Weakened from the recent battle with Arken, the manticore could not summon much power. But each blow blasted a dark hole in the dragon's tarnished scales.
Delrael watched two khelebar streak out from the ice fortress walls, moving like reflections on the snow. Most of the monster army watched the titanic duel between Siryyk and the dragon, as did Siya.
"Why doesn't she run out of there?" Delrael muttered to himself. His jaw hurt from the angry clenching of his teeth.
Ydaim and Tayron dashed up to her and, without pausing, snatched Siya from the ground. She struggled, but Ydaim grabbed her sword and Tayron forced her onto Ydaim's back.
Rognoth hissed and craned his neck, snapping with sharp teeth at the manticore's back. Siryyk stung again with his tail but doing little serious damage.
General Korux took up a jagged-tipped spear and rushed forward to stab at the dragon's body. The scaled armor deflected the first blow, but when Korux recovered, he plunged the blade into one of the blackened wounds Siryyk had already made. The spear tip sank into an exposed area on Rognoth's flank.
The dragon yowled and belched a scattered ball of fire at Korux. The spear shaft snapped out of his hand, and the Slac general fled, taking part of the flames on his shoulder. He rolled in the snow to extinguish himself.
Rognoth bent down to snap at the spear shaft embedded in his side.
Siryyk shifted his grip with his claws and tore at the wide band of scarred skin on the dragon's throat, the patch where Gairoth's iron collar had long ago worn away all scales.
Rognoth squawked and choked, flapping his wings to get away. Siryyk dug his long claws into the unprotected flesh and sheared sideways, then he lunged forward and sank his own fangs into Rognoth's exposed throat.
Blood spurted, and the dragon no longer made any noise, just a long whistle of air hissing down the gurgling tunnel. The manticore reac
hed deeper with his claws, tearing and roaring and stinging repeatedly with the scorpion tail.
The dragon's spine snapped from the inside.
Siryyk tossed the dragon's limp neck on the ground, smashing Rognoth's head into an exposed outcropping of rock. Stepping away from the carcass, the manticore roared his victory.
The other monsters picked up the cry.
Come to us.
Join us.
You are the last.
Enrod stood with his hands at his sides, deep in Sardun's vaults. The voices of the dayid spoke to him. He could see little light here, only a faint glow trickling through the thick ice. He had brought no torch with him this time; that would have shamed him in the company of his race.
You belong here.
Enrod had resisted this for centuries. He had watched Gamearth continue after the Transition, when only a few Sentinels remained. During the generations of the horrible Scouring, the Sentinels had assisted human characters in fighting off ogres and Slac; they helped the humans establish a stable society. As time passed, more of the Sentinels, seeing their work either finished or pointless, had annihilated themselves in a half-Transition that liberated their spirits and destroyed their bodies.
You are the last one!
But Enrod had never given up. He turned all of his enthusiasm into helping human characters. That battle would never be over, but he felt so old now and so tired. He had played the Game for more turns than any other character. He had avoided this for so long, and now it seemed the only way.
It was the last thing he could do, a proper sacrifice and a fitting end. It would cleanse everything else from his mind. He would go through the half-Transition himself. Now. It would liberate enough energy to resurrect all the old Sorcerer bodies.
He stood in the dimness and walked toward the sloping ceilings where, in shadow, lay all the frozen bodies that had not moved since the Transition.
"You will help now," he said to them. "Yes, help. You will march out and fight. Fight until you drop. Feel no pain because you are not alive." He made a fist. "Real soldiers. Not just players like before, with other characters to do your fighting."
He bent down and looked at the motionless face of a middle-aged woman. Somewhere in the back pockets of his mind he should know her name, but it had been too long. He saw the frost in her hair, on her eyelids, on her cheeks.
He kept smiling in the dimness. "Do this for your human inheritors."
He moved to another man whose gray-streaked hair hung braided over his left ear. Enrod placed his hand on the man's frozen cheek, letting his own body heat soften the frozen flesh. Enrod bent close so that his breath warmed the man's face.
"You can make up for abandoning the humans. I think you owe it to them, don't you?"
He bent over the next motionless body. "Don't you?"
Enrod stood, still crouching under the low ceiling. "Like an old Sorcerer council!" He raised his voice, letting his words echo from the ice. "Does any of you object?" He laughed. "I thought not!"
He stepped back to the center of the vaults where he could stand tall again. "All right, then, dayid. Take me now. I'm ready."
He closed his eyes and hissed a long breath through his teeth. Deep within himself, he concentrated, pulled together threads of power into a pattern he had always known but had never dared to attempt. When he made the last connection, he squeezed his fiery eyes shut. A single tear oozed down his cheek.
And then he released it all with an exhale. The total magic he had learned through his long lifespan surged out, spewing through his veins, his muscle fibers, exploding out of every cell in his body. He saw an incredible light brighter than a thousand suns behind his eyelids. His body twisted, spiralled, spun into a cyclone of his own making.
He tapped into the vortex of the dayid below the ice fortress. Enrod felt it join him, help him along, increase his power. He knew what he wanted, and the dayid had already agreed.
All the power shot outward, melting the walls of the vault so that water gushed down the bricks into freezing stalactites. Steam swirled in the room as the magic spilled into the bodies of every one of the old Sorcerers lying there.
When nothing remained of Enrod the individual, silence hung for just a moment in the devastated vaults.
Then the bodies began to stir. The old Sorcerers sat up without blinking their eyes, staring straight ahead. They began to march.
Delrael ran down to the courtyard as Tayron and Ydaim hurried through the low gate, bearing an unconscious Siya between them. Though she could not hear him, Delrael became livid and shouted at her anyway.
"What do you think you're doing? I'm in command here! No one goes out without my permission!"
At that moment lights shot through the ice of the fortress, and steam poured out the windows.
"What's going on now!" Delrael held his arms up in exasperation as well as fear. He looked around but nobody could answer him. He guessed what it was. "Where's Enrod?" He stormed back toward the main entrance to the ice fortress.
Other characters came running out of the doorway, flashing glances behind them. Several of the sentries had tumbled down from the turret stairs in terror.
Parts of the frozen courtyard slumped. Snow melted in puddles as cracks opened in the ground and hot steam pushed out. Delrael planted his feet to keep his balance steady. He took a deep breath. The rest of his soldiers milled around in confusion. Too much had happened all at once.
Delrael felt the anger bubbling within him again. "I'm supposed to be in command of this army! Why does every character do whatever he pleases without telling me?"
Then the first ranks of old Sorcerers marched out of the fortress.
Delrael stared, speechless. Hundreds of powerful characters shuffled ahead, but he recognized none of them. They wore ancient robes and jewels and had long hair styled in the manner of Sorcerer lords and ladies he had seen on paintings and mosaics. He recalled all the frozen bodies that had been under the fortress.
The old Sorcerers marched out as if directed by something else. The dayid? Or Enrod? Delrael's own soldiers hurried out of the way as the resurrected characters moved toward the wall of ice.
A faint pearly glow surrounded the Sorcerers. They carried their ancient swords; some bore shields, others had taken the weapons Siya stockpiled within the fortress. Several went toward the older characters from the Stronghold village, the ones who would not fight, and commandeered their swords. Shocked, the villagers did not resist.
One Sorcerer woman, tall and thin with an angular face and unblinking vacant eyes, walked over to where Siya still lay only half-conscious. The Sorcerer woman picked up Siya's sword, and walked back to join the ranks.
They lined up and pushed forward, more than a hundred of them, five across and twenty deep. They stood with their faces only inches from the tall barrier wall.
The ice rippled, clarified, and then crawled away from them, opening up an broad gate, a portal for the old Sorcerer army. At an unheard signal, they all moved forward, raising their swords to an attack position. They trotted out to meet Siryyk's army, without a battle cry, without a sound.
Before Delrael could call after them and before some of his own fighters could think to run after and join in the battle, the ice wall bunched and rose, sealing them within the protection of the ice fortress.
Outside, the monsters howled and charged forward, seeing their enemy out to face them at last.
The old Sorcerer army marched out to meet them.
――――
INTERLUDE: OUTSIDE
David stared at the hexagons on the map. The black lines reminded him of an intricate net to trap him.
Outside, the wind from the storm sounded like the flapping fabric of a tent as visions of the manticore flickered behind his mind. He sat crosslegged, as he had for the past hour, and ignored his aching knees. His cheek still stung from his injury, much like Siryyk's face must have felt.
A sharp thunder of pain went through his
head ― sympathetic hurt from the manticore? He squeezed his eyes shut.
"I've got an idea," Tyrone said. "And it's my turn."
David looked up at Tyrone. Scott went to try the phone again, but he heard nothing this time, not a dial tone, not Lellyn's voice. Melanie smiled at Tyrone, encouraging him.
She had lost the gargoyle and her Rognoth character ― who had originally been played by David, back when he introduced Gairoth the ogre ― but she had also saved Siya, and now launched an entirely unexpected fighting force against David's manticore. Pleased with the game, she continued to flash defiant glances at him.
"I know you guys don't think I know what's going on," Tyrone said. "But I do! I'm just so amazed, that's all. I mean, who will ever believe us anyway? Rule #1, always have fun. Isn't that what we said when we started this?" He looked at them.
"This is all straight out of the Twilight Zone. But think about it: if the Game can come out here and lock our doors and mess with the TV and the phone, and if it can blow up my mom's kitchen table, and draw its blue line on the map, and if Lellyn's ghost or whatever can come to talk to us ... well, hey, what's to stop us from going in?"
"It can't work that way," Scott said.
Tyrone turned on Scott. He had been pouting ever since Scott shouted at him before. "Listen, Mr. Science, you don't know how it works any more than the rest of us. Why should it be any different? We're the ones who came up with the rules in the first place. If I roll ― " He grabbed up the transparent twenty-sided die from beside the splintered edge of Melanie's map. "Say, a seventeen or better, what's to stop me from going inside Gamearth?"
"Tyrone, don't you dare," David said.
Melanie stared down at the white hexagons of frozen wasteland. "There's a battle going on down there. Are you sure you want ― "
"A battle is the most exciting place! David plays Siryyk, but I'm handling the rest of the monsters. I handled the Black Falcon troops, and all the other fighters. I can certainly handle this."
Game's End Page 25