Delrael looked uneasily at the gathering of monsters that stood angry and leaderless. "I still don't like this. We'd better find Bryl."
Vailret nodded, and they hurried back along the edge of the battlefield, trying to escape the notice of Scartaris's surviving fighters.
Then the air in front of them rippled. Delrael thought that heat shimmers rose up from the warming sands, but white mist swirled above them, condensing until it resolved into the transparent outlines of the three Earthspirits, flickering like a vision on the breeze.
The Spirits looked tenuous and fragile, much less substantial than when they had first appeared to Delrael in the forest. That night seemed so long ago now. That was before he had known Tallin. Before he met Mindar.
The Earthspirits spoke. "Scartaris is destroyed, and we still live.
With the aid of the Deathspirits and the Stranger Unlooked-For, we did not need to sacrifice ourselves.
"But we are weak now. We must go dormant for many turns to recover our strength."
The Spirits wavered, faded for a moment, and then rose up again. The tilted hexagon of terrain settled under Delrael's feet and he stumbled. The other monsters stood uncertain and afraid of the giant hooded forms.
"By destroying Scartaris and unleashing power of such magnitude, the map has suffered severe damage. As have the Rules themselves. They are twisted and loosened.
"We have proved to the Outsiders that Gamearth is as strong as their own powers. That is a profound victory. Even now, the Deathspirits are using this to their advantage. Perhaps they will mold their own reality."
Delrael looked across the battlefield to see Bryl running toward them, drawn by the towering forms of the Earthspirits. Delrael waved his hands to show that he had seen him. Vailret squinted up at the Spirits with an expression of awe on his face.
"To show our gratitude, we will twist the Rules even now. The Outsider David is stunned by his defeat. We can do things the other Players will not notice, for now.
"Your quest is over. You have gained experience and won the battle. We will return you to your home. If only we were not so weak, we could do more..."
The Slac regiments had pulled themselves together again and rallied around the manticore. Several other monsters rebelled or moved too slowly, but the Slac cut them down with their own weapons.
"Gamearth is ours!" the manticore bellowed.
Then the Earthspirits swept their billowing sleeves through the air.
Delrael felt a harsh wind pour into his body, his bones. The air dissolved around him. He felt dislocated and cold ―
― and the terrain became the path leading up Steep Hill to the Stronghold. The morning around him was deathly quiet. He heard only the sounds from the forest.
The village seemed deserted and silent. All the people were hiding.
Something had happened.
Bryl and Vailret appeared beside him. Both stumbled, suddenly finding themselves disoriented on the sloping path. "We're back home!" Bryl said. He fell to his knees. He looked exhausted.
"I wonder where Tareah is." Vailret looked around him, getting his bearings. He started up the hill.
"Something's wrong," Delrael said. He strode up the hill. His body was exhausted, but he felt revitalized just by being back home.
They neared the top of Steep Hill. The forest pressed around them, thick and ready to conceal many things. They still heard no sounds. Delrael felt like a stranger outside his own home.
When he saw what remained of the Stronghold ― the burned buildings, the shattered walls ― he stopped and felt sick inside. "We shouldn't have left them," he whispered. "We shouldn't have left them all alone. They were defenseless!"
Suddenly, seven other characters, men and women heavily armed, leaped out of the forest terrain, pointing arrows, spears, and swords at them.
Delrael whirled and straightened, yanking free his own notched sword.
Then he stared as he recognized, behind the armor and the weapons and the battle-hardened stares, Mostem the baker, young Romm the farmer, and others from the village.
"It's Delrael!" Tareah cried. "And Vailret! They're back."
Other villagers cheered as they emerged from the forest where they had been practicing and lying in ambush. They seemed terrified of an actual fight but ready to defend their homes.
Delrael stared at the wreckage of the Stronghold, at the fighting force Tareah had managed to put together. She walked up to stand next to Vailret. "I missed you." She glanced at Delrael and answered quickly, "Both of you."
Bryl shuffled his feet, scowling and looking out of place.
"I'm sorry about the Stronghold. Scartaris destroyed it. Tarne is dead." She sighed and lifted her chin, showing her new strength. "But we've sent messengers to all the other villages. We're gathering an army. We're getting ready to fight."
Delrael saw a proud determined look in her eyes that reminded him of something he had seen in Mindar.
"The Outsiders won't ever catch us unprepared again," Tareah said.
Delrael smiled and looked up at the sky, wishing the Outsiders were watching. "If they want to fight against us, I hope they know what they're getting into."
EPILOGUE
Scott grabbed David's arm and pulled him over to the sink while the others stared in shock. He flipped on the cold water tap and pushed David's raw hands under the running faucet. David made no sound, but his hands were burned, red and blistered, from when the map had ... exploded on them.
Scott tended David stiffly, astonished. He went through the motions of first aid as though it could keep him distracted from thinking ― from thinking about what had happened at the end of the Game.
Tyrone stuck his head under the table and came back up, eyes wide. "The burn goes all the way through the wood!" he said. "Wow!" Then he paused and swallowed. "What'll I tell my mom? You're going to all have to back me up."
"And say what?" Scott asked. "That we were just playing a game but it fought back at us? They'll say I made some explosive with my chemistry set or something." He snorted. Water from the tap splashed on the left lens of his glasses. "I haven't played with my chemistry set since eighth grade."
Melanie stared at the map. A great section of the terrain was burned black and broken. A dark, charcoaled blot had burned through the map, through Tyrone's table. He groaned and got a damp cloth to try and wipe away the dark stain. When Tyrone slid the map board sideways, a couple of hexagons fell loose from the edge like tiles in a mosaic.
But that was impossible too, because Melanie had painted on a smooth piece of wood. She had drawn the hex-lines with a drafting pencil. The map couldn't fall apart exactly along the lines....
But Melanie found herself feeling elated, smug. "Well, David? Are you ready to give up now? Scartaris is destroyed. You lost. That means we keep on playing."
Over by the sink David stared at his burned hands and kept them under the water. "I still have my army of monsters. There's still Verne's weapon, on my territory now." He yanked his hands away from Scott and stood dripping on the kitchen floor. "Now your characters are going to have to fight against me."
David twisted his head to look at her, and Melanie jumped back. For a moment, she swore his eyes were blazing yellow and pupilless. He turned back to dry his hands.
Melanie swallowed, blinking her eyes until she felt confident again.
"After this ― " she indicated the devastated portion of the map. "I don't think we need to be afraid of you anymore.
"Gamearth is learning how to fight back."
― END ―
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Game Play Page 28