The Quillan Games tpa-7

by D. J. MacHale

  I guess I should have been scared, but you know what? I wasn’t. Just the opposite. The realization actually gave me a feeling of hope. I was going to go up against the guy who killed a Traveler. I would get the chance to avenge his death. I gave the guy a small salute. He drank from his goblet, and I continued on. I knew we would be seeing each other again.

  As I made my way cautiously down toward the courtyard, I found that the castle was strangely empty. Once I left the blowout challenger party, everything became eerily quiet. I wondered where Veego and LaBerge lived, but wasn’t curious enough to try to find out. It was tough enough finding my way through the dozens of twisted corridors and intersections to make it down to the courtyard. It was slow going, because I didn’t want to risk being caught. Finding Nevva was too important. So I kept to the shadows and tried to be quiet.

  Finally, after twenty minutes of wrong turns and dead ends, I found a side door that led outside to the courtyard. The next part was tricky. I got my bearings by looking out on the wide space and finding the front door, where I had first entered the castle. Looking directly across from that door, I saw a wide archway that seemed to lead into a small garden. According to Fourteen that was the octagon. The trick was to get across the wide open space without being seen. I stayed along one wall, moving quickly, holding my breath. I’m not sure why I held my breath. It didn’t make me invisible. It just seemed like the thing to do. Thirty seconds later I ducked through the archway and into the octagon.

  It was a pretty garden that was ringed by, you guessed it, an eight-sided wall. Three of the sections were the outer walls of the castle. The other five were built out from the castle and rose up too high to think about climbing over. It was maybe thirty yards across in all directions… big enough to hide in the trees and bushes. There were lots of flowers, a brook, small flowering trees, and some stone benches. It was the kind of place where you’d see old people hanging out to feed the ducks. The sky was full of stars that were so bright they provided plenty of light to see all this. I wondered briefly if one of them might be Second Earth. I had a quick feeling of homesickness, and forced myself to change gears. I didn’t need to be feeling sorry for myself right then.

  Nevva said to meet her there “later.” When was later? An hour? Three hours? A quad? A click? I found a small bench nestled between two flowering bushes, and settled in for I didn’t know how long to wait for her.

  “Hello, Pendragon,” came a voice. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  I whipped around to see Nevva standing behind the bench. Phew. “Later” meant now. Good thing. I didn’t like the idea of sitting on a hard bench for long. I was too beat.

  “I can’t stay long,” she said. “I wouldn’t know how to explain to Veego and LaBerge why I’m still here.”

  Nevva came across as somebody who was Г¤berefficient and buttoned up. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had “to do” lists. I was never like that. I’m more of a “wing it” kind of guy.

  “You are everything Press said you would be,” she said.

  “You knew my uncle?” I asked. It still surprised me to hear how Uncle Press had covered all the territories before I even knew I was a Traveler. Man, I missed him.

  “Of course,” Nevva answered. “He came to Quillan a long time ago to tell me of my true destiny, and to give me this.” She pulled out the ring that dangled from her dark beaded necklace. When she spoke it was quickly and precisely. She seemed to know exactly what was going on. I, on the other hand, was floundering.

  “Your true destiny,” I repeated. “What exactly is your true destiny? Who are you?”

  “I’m the Traveler from Quillan of course,” she said as if she didn’t understand how I didn’t know that.

  I stared at her for a long moment. I think my brain went back into the deep-freeze again. Nevva was the Traveler from Quillan. Then who was Remudi? Here I was looking for answers, and everything she said only led to more questions.

  She continued, “I’ve been receiving journals from acolytes all over Halla, detailing your encounters with Saint Dane.”

  “Acolytes send you journals?” I asked dumbly, trying to keep my head above water and make sense of all this.

  “Yes,” she said. “Many yet to hear from your acolytes, Mark Dimond and Courtney Chetwynde.”

  “I don’t think they know they’re supposed to be writing,” I said.

  Are you guys writing journals? Are you communicating with other acolytes? I have no idea.

  “I haven’t chosen an acolyte myself yet,” she said. “I simply haven’t had time. In fact, I may not choose one. I can operate more efficiently on my own.”

  “Whoa, wait wait, slow down,” I said. “If you’re the Traveler from Quillan, wasn’t Remudi your acolyte? He had a ring, didn’t he?”

  Nevva frowned. “That should never have happened. I tried to stop him from competing, but I have no power. You saw how Veego and LaBerge treat me. I am only an assistant to the trustees. Remudi was a brave and talented soldier, but he wasn’t ready to compete. I’m heartsick that we’ve lost another Traveler. Perhaps if he’d had more time…”

  “What?” I shouted. “You just said that you’re the Traveler from Quillan! Was Remudi the Traveler before you?”

  “No,” Nevva snapped. She sounded irked that I didn’t know the whole story, but she softened quickly. I think she finally realized that there was no way I could know the whole story. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what!” I insisted.

  “Remudi was the Traveler from Ibara,” she said.

  For the third time that day I stared at Nevva Winter as my brain left to go on vacation somewhere. She had just dumped a truckload of information on me that I wasn’t even close to expecting.

  “Ibara?” I croaked. “That’s another territory?” “Well, of course,” Nevva said with surprise. It was if I had just said, “United States? Is that a country?”

  “How did a Traveler from another territory end up here on Quillan?” I asked. “No, how did a Traveler from another territory end up dead here on Quillan?”

  Before Nevva could answer, we heard a car pull into the courtyard. Nevva grabbed me and pulled me down into the bushes.

  “Remudi is the least of it,” she whispered hurriedly. “There is so much to tell. You need to see it all. Quickly.” Yeah, no kidding.

  “Who is Mr. Pop?” I asked. I couldn’t get the questions out fast enough. “And who are the trustees? And what is Blok?”

  I heard voices coming from the courtyard. It sounded like Veego. She was barking orders to somebody.

  “Tomorrow,” she said. “You will learn it all tomorrow. That’s why I needed to see you tonight, to give you this.” She handed me a small silver clip that looked like a thick staple.

  “And this is…?”

  “A blocking diode,” she explained. “Keep it with you, but don’t let anyone know you have it. And don’t use it unless it’s absolutely necessary. You can only use it once. After that they’ll know you have it.”

  “O… kay,” I said skeptically. “It would help a little if I knew what it did.”

  “Clip it onto your loop,” she said. “It blocks the signal. They won’t be able to track you.”

  Oh. Cool.

  “I’d rather just take the loop off,” I said. “No,” she said. “They’ll know if it’s off.” “How come you don’t have one?” I asked. “Because I don’t wager,” she answered. “And I’m not a challenger.”

  I heard the sound of dado voices outside. More were arriving.

  “I have to go,” Nevva said. “Don’t lose that; it might save your life.”

  She didn’t have to tell me that twice. Nevva moved to leave, but I grabbed her arm.

  “You can’t leave!” I said. “I have to know what’s going on! A Traveler is dead!”

  “You will,” she said. “It would take too long to explain now, and if I’m caught, two more might join him.”

 
I couldn’t argue with that.

  “All right,” I said with resignation. “Let’s hope I don’t get killed before then.”

  “You won’t be,” she said. “Just do as they say and you will be fine.”

  Nevva started away again, and I said, “Wait, you gotta tell me one thing. Have you found Saint Dane? Why did he leave these challenger clothes at the flume?”

  “He didn’t,” Nevva said. “I did.”

  With that, she was gone.

  (CONTINUED)

  QUILLAN

  I know I’ve said this before, but I’ve never felt so alone. Another Traveler had died and I never even got the chance to meet him. Whatever the territory of Ibara was, it no longer had a Traveler. Unless, of course, there was somebody who was going to take Remudi’s place, but I had no way of knowing that. I couldn’t stress about it, because I had my hands full here on Quillan, and the one person who could help me make sense of it all, Nevva Winter, was beyond my reach because I was trapped inside that twisted castle and forced to play idiotic, deadly games.

  Worse, it was Nevva who set me up to play these games in the first place by leaving challenger clothes for me at the flume! Why did she do that? I had assumed it was Saint Dane’s doing because seeing me getting beat up was just the kind of thing he liked doing. But another Traveler? She was supposed to be on my side! Why did she put me in this spot? Could the answer be that she was an idiot? No, that didn’t fly. If there was one thing I could tell about Nevva Winter, she was smart. And efficient. She wouldn’t have made a dumb mistake like that. There was more to it than that. Nevva promised that my questions would be answered the next day. There was only one problem with that.

  She didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. I kept waiting for her to show up and get me the heck out of there, but she didn’t. What was she doing? What had happened? It was making me nuts. I was still as much in the dark about how Quillan worked as when I arrived, and the one person who could help me understand, the Traveler from this territory, had abandoned me.

  At least I can say that while I was stuck there, I was comfortable. Veego and LaBerge weren’t kidding. I was treated like royalty. The food was great; my new room was big, comfy, and clown free; I had the run of the castle and even had a servant. Fourteen. He was always there to get me anything I wanted. Short of freedom, that is. Doesn’t sound too horrible, does it?

  Well, it was. I felt as though at any moment I’d get thrown into another one of their wicked games. Like with that Hook game, I feared that whenever I turned a corner or walked by a closed door, I’d be rudely sucked in and my life would be on the line. It’s not a good way to live. The challenger party I saw was making all sorts of sense to me. They were blowing off steam and believe me, no matter how sweet the place was, steam built up. It was like being on death row, not knowing when the executioner would come knocking at your door.

  I guess it shouldn’t have felt all that odd to me. In many ways it was exactly how I’d been living my life for nearly three years. Ever since I left home with Uncle Press, I’ve had to live with the fact that any moment might be my last. Usually there’s so much going on that I don’t think about it, which is a good thing. I’d have gone out of my mind long ago.

  But hanging around that castle, bored, wondering where Nevva was, and waiting for something to happen-man, it was slowly driving me insane. Bored and scared aren’t a good combination. When you’re bored, your mind wanders. I ended up worrying about things that I normally try not to stress about. I guess on the top of the list was the constant question of how I ended up here. I’m not talking about Quillan. I mean the whole Traveler gig in general. Why me? How come I was the lucky one who got to be the lead Traveler and match wits with Saint Dane? I’m not proud to admit this, but lately when my mind goes there, I get angry. Where before I’d been confused, frustrated, and scared, I now had to add anger to that list. I’m not even sure who to be angry at, which makes me even angrier! Who put me in this spot? Uncle Press? He definitely started me on the journey, but was it his choice to make me the lead Traveler? Or was he just following orders? That’s the big question. Who started this whole thing? Gunny’s theory is that there’s some big cheese out there who selected the Travelers and is running the show. I guess that’s possible, but I have no idea who it might be or how it could work.

  I’ve wondered about all this for a long time, of course, but like I said, lately the thought has been making me mad. Sure, I know that stopping Saint Dane is huge. There’s no question. But who the hell is he? How did he get those powers? Where is he from? Since it’s my job to stop him, I think I deserve some answers. Right? Am I being unreasonable? I put my life in danger every day, but nobody has explained any of these things to me. I think that’s just wrong, and it’s starting to piss me off.

  What if I decided to give up? I could do it, you know. I could jump into the flume, head home to Second Earth, and never look back. I could start a new life. I’ve learned enough about getting along to do that. What would happen if I did? If I’m really as important as everybody seems to think, then maybe I’d force somebody’s hand so they’d have to step up and give me some answers. I’ve thought a lot about doing that. I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s time to start playing a little hardball and force the issue.

  Those are the kinds of thoughts that bounced around in my head while I was hanging out in that castle waiting for… something. The more I thought about them, the more worked up I would get, and I’d have to calm myself down and focus on reality. As much as I’d like to, I can’t go home. Saint Dane cannot be left to do whatever he wants, no matter how unfair it is to me or how angry I get. The only thing I can do is not let it get to me. Being angry doesn’t help. It only makes me feel bad. I have to put those feelings aside, now and forever. That was the way it was meant to be, whether I like it or not.

  Thanks for letting me vent, by the way.

  To keep my mind off things while I waited for Nevva to come back, I spent a lot of time working out. That’s a great way to burn off energy… and anger. I’d go for runs through the dense forest around the castle. A few times I got as far as the high wall that surrounded the place. But whenever I got too close, a couple of those goon dados would appear from out of nowhere and stare at me as if to say, “Don’t even think about it, red boy.”

  The castle had a pretty cool gym, too. I worked out with free-weights and did stretching and even worked out on a couple of odd machines where the base moved and rubber arms swung at you. It was a device to help build agility and reflexes. It was fun, once I got the hang of it and stopped getting thwacked in the head, that is. I was in pretty good shape too, I’m proud to say. The training that Loor and Alder gave me on Zadaa had stuck. No, better, I built on it. I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I was getting pretty confident in my abilities as a warrior. That sounds so weird to say. Warrior. I’m still Bobby, and if I had the choice, I’d never raise a weapon again. But I know as long as I am a Traveler, I have to. Given that, I was pretty confident that I could handle myself in most any situation. Though it was kind of chilling to realize the reason they had all this gym stuff was to keep the challengers in peak physical condition, so they could put on a good show while trying to kill one another. That kind of took the edge off the “fun” part.

  I tried to meet the other challengers, but that wasn’t easy. They mostly kept to themselves. I’d pass one in the corridor of the castle and try to start a conversation, but they would just nod and keep moving. I guess you’d call it a polite blow off. I asked Fourteen about it. He came for a run with me one day, and I took the opportunity to pump him for some information.

  “I don’t get the other challengers,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Fourteen said. It bugged me that he wasn’t short of breath, even after running for a couple of miles. I was pushing it, getting my heart rate up and building a sweat. Fourteen cruised along calmly like he wasn’t being stressed at all. Which he wasn’t. He was a
robot. Duh. Still, it bugged me.

  “We’re all in this together,” I said. “You’d think they’d like to open up a little bit, I mean, if only to complain.”

  “I cannot say for sure,” Fourteen said. “But from what I have heard, they do not wish to know their opponents. They fear it would be difficult if they entered into a friendship with someone they might have to kill.”

  Oh. I guess that made sense. It was scary, but made sense.

  “Where do most of them come from?” I asked. “From the city? What’s it called? Rune?”

  “Some do,” Fourteen answered. “But Veego spreads her net wide in looking for worthy competitors.”

  “How does she get them to come here if they know it means death?” I asked.

  “They do not have a choice,” Fourteen said. “Once a candidate is found, dados are sent to retrieve them.”

  “Retrieve,” I repeated. “Like cattle being rounded up for slaughter.”

  “I do not know what that means,” Fourteen said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said quickly. “So they come here and train and get chosen for events and as long as they win, they stay alive.”

  “That describes it,” Fourteen said. “We try to make them as comfortable as possible during their final days.”

  “And what do the challengers get in return?” I asked. “Besides death?”

  “Their families are paid a handsome sum when they win,” Fourteen answered.

  “And if they lose?”

  Fourteen hesitated, then he said softly, “Their families are given the ashes.”

  Life on Quillan was turning out to be cruel.

  “So what about the party?” I asked. “If the challengers don’t hang out with one another, what about the party I saw the other night?”