by O. J. Lowe
“Not as much, no. But…”
“Be fair to him,” Jess said. “His winnings paid for this trip.”
That was true, they had. Last six months, he’d done some placings in the tournaments, nothing major. No important wins. He’d finished runner up in one, a few quarter final appearances, one or two semis. It soon stacked up, the strange thing being how finishing quarter finals at a prestigious tournament could be more profitable than winning a small one. It was all about finding consistency.
He was still young. You had to be something special to win regularly at his age. Being good came through experience, through learning from defeats, through development of the team of spirits. That was what he’d heard. That was what he’d believed. The best usually hit form after roughly five years was common consensus. The credits he’d won had brought him here right now. The Rojo resort, named for the owner Rokoko Jomari, a famed Burykian spirit caller whose portrait hung in the lobby. Not massively fancy. Good enough for purpose. Close enough to the nearest town, Arutko, for facilities, far enough away for privacy. Jess had wanted to come here, he hadn’t been able to say no to her on it. In years of travelling, sometimes you needed a break. They’d been nearby, and he’d just thought, why not? When in Burykia, might as well make it memorable.
Being fair to it, Scott had found it a lot better than some of the places he’d been to in the region. The whole trip had been one big mistake from the start. Food was different, being charitable. He’d hoped to see some of the veritable wildlife, maybe make a few acquisitions and win a few tournaments. He’d heard the competition wasn’t as stiff out here. That had turned out to be rubbish. The local callers were talented enough, plenty of them as good as him, many just about better. Where he’d found problems lay, the tournaments didn’t pay as much as he’d thought they would. Breaking even was about the best he could hope for. Saving his winnings felt like anathema. But he’d broken the habit of a lifetime and managed to keep some back. Just for times like this when he needed it. Summoners broke. New crystals needed to be bought. Air and sea tickets. Places to stay. It wasn’t the glamorous life style you always thought when you were a kid.
“Really, all his winnings?” Pete said sarcastically, scanning the area with mock surprise. “Nice. Always said you should hook up with me, Jess, I…”
“Finish that sentence, I will slap you,” she warned. No trace of any warmth in her voice either. She meant it as well, Scott knew. “Hard. It might leave a scar. And not the sort that gives you character.”
“It’s true. She doesn’t hit like a girl,” Scott said. He ignored it. Pete was that sort of guy. Anything to push the buttons. Just as Jess wasn’t the sort to put up with it. “And neither do I, Pete. Thin ice. You’re on it.”
“Changing the subject,” Pete said. He looked a little abashed. Scott wouldn’t have been lying if he’d said he enjoyed it. “I was just going to say that… What’s the easy way to say this?” He paused for a moment, as if rooting around for the right term. Many exaggerated facial expressions, he pursed his lips and waggled his eyebrows for several long seconds. His grin returned. “Okay, you suck. No way you’re going to win this. Bet you crash and burn and I wave you off.”
Alright, that hurt a little bit. Scott hoped he’d hidden the shock, kept it locked down inside him, hidden the urge to punch him in the face. That’d be sweet. Right now, he’d settle for a quick quip, a witty comeback to knock him off. He’d enjoyed that way too much.
“Yeah okay, you wish.”
Mission accomplished in no way at all. Inwardly, he winced.
“I can beat you, more than that I’ll spank your sorry ass like a little bitch. I’m going to go way further than you. I’m going to win it. Everything else be damned. And I’m going to enjoy the look on your face as I do it.”
“I bet you don’t,” Pete grinned. “Look at you now, sat in the sun with your girlfriend. I was wrong. You changed, man!”
“Hey!” Jess protested. “I didn’t change him. I mean obviously there were parts that needed changing, you met him before and…”
Pete ignored her. Scott was only half listening. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing either of them had ever done, ignoring Jess when she was talking but it barely registered as they stared either down.
“Bet you’re rusty as shit. Going to hit you down a peg or two.” He already had a hand on his summoner, a crystal locked into the projector, ready to rumble.
Scott smiled. Inside, he felt his blood surging, calling for the fires of battle to run through him. He knew what was going to happen. And privately, he was looking forward to making him eat his words. “I don’t need practice to beat you,” he retorted. “I’d do you with both my eyes closed. My spirits do the talking.”
“That’s why your mouth is making all the sound,” Pete said. “As usual. They can hear you from miles away.”
“They can smell you from a mile away. You cut through a swamp or something?”
“Oh boy,” Jess said sarcastically. “This’s what it feels like to OD on someone else’s testosterone then.” Disgust curdled in her eyes. “Lovely. Just how I always imagined it.”
“Never argue with the girlfriend,” Scott said, fishing out his own summoner from the pocket where he’d jammed it following the message from Ritellia. “Shall we do this, then?”
“Bring it on, Scotty,” Pete said playfully.
It was Scott’s turn to roll his eyes; he held up the device and pushed the button down harder than he needed to.
Way back long ago, people had thought the calling process was magic. Maybe back then, it resembled it a lot more than it did now. Now, it was easier to explain if you had the manual for the summoner. Scott did have it somewhere, not that he knew where. Flipping through it back in the day had made his brain hurt and threaten to glaze his eyes over. Just because you couldn’t explain how something worked didn’t mean that you were less likely to use them.
Basic layman’s terms, each summoner could hold any number of crystals, usually a minimum of two, occasionally as many as ten for the really top models. Different people kept them in different ways. Scott favoured a special belt with slots to hold them. Jess used a bracelet. He knew for a fact Pete had a clip attached to his caller holding them in place.
Within the special crystals were the spirits, entrapped genetic codes of the beings that they used to belong to. The summoner contained a scanner acting as a copying device; it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Several beasts didn’t like the act, they often turned violent if they weren’t incapacitated first. The crystal itself not only held the data needed to form the basis of the spirit inside but contained the raw material used to create an actual physical version of the creature. Not only physically but mentally as well, a complete duplicate of the creature.
Of course, the original version often didn’t survive long. Something snapped inside them during the scanning process. Hadn’t ever actually been explained. Maybe it was spiritual rather than physical. Nobody knew, the best they had was an entire collection of theories that either held up to scrutiny or didn’t.
Seeing it first time was something you never thought you’d get used to. The way that Palawi appeared out in front of him really was something special, if only for those memories of the original dog from happier times. Palawi had been the first animal he’d ever used the scanner on. Looking back, he remembered all too well. He remembered the pain as the hound had died shortly after, no matter how much Palawi the second resembled Palawi the original, even if the similarities were astounding. The same sides of a credit piece, yet there was something off about him.
Shame because the creature was beautiful, golden fur and a squat fox-like nose, one ear cocked back over his head. His stubby tail wagged at the appearance, he darted over and licked Scott’s hand. Officially, he was a Premesoir snubhound, a loyal companion and a steady fighter. Scott reached down and scratched him behind the ears, his jaws hanging open at the attention, tongue lolling.
“He
y boy,” Scott said. “Want to help me fight this joker here?”
He always got the impression every spirit understood him in their own way. They probably did. Part of Palawi looked like he was winking at him.
Pete’s own choice was a little more surprising, but at least Scott was familiar with the distinctively feline creature, her furless skin an icy powder blue. A series of ridged black bones ran across her back, the ears floppy and rabbit-like with rough tufts of skin hanging from the tips. The tail dragged across the ground, curved out at the end into two separate points like a fish’s tail, too heavy to lift.
“Mermari,” Scott said, seeing the lake lynx. He had been there when Pete had claimed her, knew all about her. It was always handy to have as much information as possible in this sport. “There she is.”
A little mew was the response to him, the feline jaws opening up to reveal pointed icicle-like fangs within. Palawi broke from having his ears scratched by Jess, let out a snarl of challenge. Because after all, they were about to fight. Jess moved out the way, Pete shifted some tables and deck loungers to make room. That they were by the swimming pool of the resort only added the challenge. There had been a reason Scott had gone with Palawi.
Where the naming traditions of those conquered spirits were concerned, a name always felt right during the claiming. It helped foster a bond, avoided confusion. In Scott’s book, that always was a plus.
“Won’t go too easy on you, yeah?” Pete said with a grin. “Come on, Scotty, show me you still got it.”
“I’m going to do more than that. Never lost it. Going to take it from you. Let’s take him Palawi. Go for it.”
The snubhound bared his fangs and charged as Scott gave the mental command, legs pumping, breathing heavy as he closed in on the cat. Pete gave the command, Mermari sprang out the way with almost arrogant agility, coming to land behind Palawi. Another spring and she was closing in on his back, ice cold claws extending. Scott knew they could do some damage, reacted accordingly. Palawi turned and snapped out with a sound reminiscent of electricity’s crackle. Mermari immediately recoiled back, bared her fangs with a hiss.
“Cats and dogs, huh?” Jess said. “Go on Palawi!” She made an exaggerated one-handed cheering gesture. Scott caught it out the corner of his eye, tried to hide the smile. Too quickly he realised it wasn’t a good time to let his mind wander, Mermari came tearing in, struck Palawi in the side with her glowing tail, the appendage thick and powerful with muscle. Palawi yelped, Mermari darted back away. For a moment, Scott was sure that there was a look of triumph on her face.
He wasn’t going to stand for that. “She touches you again, zap her.”
That was the other benefit of taking the original creature’s genetic code. Upgrades. Couldn’t beat them. Made a hardy creature an even more implacable force, something which made up somewhat for the loss of the old Palawi. That the new one was capable of channelling wicked amounts of electricity through his body. Anything that meant him harm was getting it full in the face.
“That’s okay,” Pete said. “We won’t touch you. You really think I’m that dense? Must have me confused for you.” He gave Scott the sardonic grin. Scott did his best to return it. They really did simultaneously bring out the best and the worst in each other.
“Nah, I wouldn’t confuse you for me. I’m better looking for starters. Palawi, how about some sort of distraction.”
The dog grinned, threw back his head as Scott mentally outlined what he wanted, let loose an ear-splitting howl nobody was prepared for, least of all Mermari. She visibly cringed, tried to paw at her ears, all to create an opening which Palawi stormed into. He tore across the ground like lightning, viciously checking Mermari. She bounced off the ground once, twice and rolled down into the pool. Pete grimaced.
A few other people around the pool were already gathering around to watch. One parent pulled their child out the pool. Scott was privately glad. Nobody wanted to see someone watching them get hurt. The bigger competitions where thousands of people came to watch all took safety very seriously.
“Got you where I want you now,” he said. Palawi looked proud, prowling the edge of the water, nose twitching rapidly.
“You just put me in my natural environment,” Pete said. “You can’t touch her. You’ll never find her in the water.” There was an unmistakable element of savage triumph about his face which pissed Scott right off. “Stalemate.”
Where he was coming from with that, Scott didn’t know. All he had to do was have Palawi let loose a blast of electricity into the pool and it’d be over. Basic science, water conducted electricity. So, what did Pete have planned here? Something was afoot, and he couldn’t work out what.
This was why getting better and better at the art came with age. Experience. Fewer stuff surprised you as you got older, you saw stuff again and again, developed different strategies and tactics. Your own got better, you learned to counter others better.
“Take care here, Palawi. Something isn’t right here.” It felt hollow as he said it. Palawi probably knew it better than he did. The dog gave the impression of being damn smart when it suited him to be so.
A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. Scott folded his arms. Palawi relaxed his haunches. Patience had never been his strong point. He paced up and down on the spot, scratched an itch on his wrist. He felt the blood thumping in his ears, his heartbeat pounding for attention, mouth dry with anticipation.
Away with this!
He knew he’d probably regret it. Live and learn. There were no stakes on this bout, he might just spot some of Pete’s plan for future reference. Maybe even cannibalise some of the better bits of it.
“Palawi. Will you please…”
Pete whistled. Scott didn’t stop, carried on the order.
“… zap the water. Let’s fry them.”
Seeing Palawi generate all that electricity was a sight to behold, simultaneously beautiful and deadly. He saw Jess’ hair rise from the static, all that power building up in a split second, before sweeping into the water. With the charge rushing through all that conductive liquid, it shone briefly, glowed a radiant yellow, only for nothing to happen. He’d expected Mermari to be hurled out dramatically or float to the surface like a dead fish. He hadn’t expected nothing yet that was what he’d gotten.
His face must have said it all because Pete burst out laughing. “Aww man, the look on your face. Priceless. That just made the entire trip worthwhile for me.”
“I don’t get it,” Scott said. He meant it as well.
A split second later, Mermari burst from the drink unharmed, smashed face first into an unsuspecting Palawi, biting and scratching in close. The dog let out a yelp, Mermari let out a sound of triumph. Blood ran down that golden fur, Palawi just couldn’t get free, bring up any momentum to get away from the savagery being inflicted upon him.
“Checkmate,” Pete said. “Hold your applause, I’m here all…”
Something twitched inside him and Palawi let loose another burst of electricity, this one catching Mermari square in the face, the force throwing her back. It had been well placed but fortunate, black burns spread over Mermari’s face and neck. They looked painful. The cat howled in pain, Palawi looked better for the injuries but in no less pain. The golden fur was slick with blood, one eye slashed shut, an ear torn.
“Crap.” Pete sounded pissed. Scott shook his head. He wasn’t too worried about the injuries. They could be fixed up easily, since spirits weren’t technically alive. Fixing the damage was simple, there were people who had machines to do that in no time at all. Death wasn’t permanent, truth be told it was little more than what most bouts were. Fights to the death.
“Truce?” he asked. “It really worth it?”
He held out a hand. “Maybe I’m a bit rusty. But there’s time for me to get better yet. Don’t want to peak too early, do I?”
Pete gripped his hand, moved to give him a begrudging hug. He felt a little uncomfortable returning it, had never been a
hugging person. On the bout though, not too bad a result. “Ah, not that bad. Palawi looks stronger.”
Scott grinned at that. Always nice to get compliments on your spirits, not since just because he’d been on holiday didn’t mean he’d avoided working on his spirits and strategies.
“Hey, definitely. I’m curious though. How’d you survive that blast on the water?”
Pete tapped his nose and grinned. “Oh, that’d be telling. I’m not letting you steal my ideas. I’m just glad it worked.”
Classic Peter Jacobs in other words. Gracious in victory and an absolute twat when he didn’t win. Scott bit down a biting retort and smiled politely.
“Well,” he said. “I guess this was a good workout.” He glanced around, saw the disapproving looks of other guests. Even more so, the approaching staff looked less than pleased, security guards followed by an irate manager, enmity in his eyes.
He’d seen the look before. Unless he was very much mistaken, the next words spoken to them were going to be requests to leave the premises as quickly as possible, with the addition of not coming back.
“Good thing we’re about to check out anyway, right?” he said, giving Jess a sideways glance. With her back to the staff, she hadn’t seen them approaching, something she moved to put right by craning her head around. Scott saw the hint of anger flush into her cheeks, a hint of scarlet the same colour as her hair and he blanched to himself.
Uh oh!
He was going to suffer for this.
Chapter Three. Troubled Luxury.
Reims Enterprises. Founded sixty years ago by budding entrepreneur Thomas Coppinger, this company has always set about finding tomorrow’s products today. From humble dawns, it has evolved into something monolithic. Now we have our business interests in as many fields as possible, casting a wide net across the five kingdoms. To grow is to seek.
Reims Enterprises as described by one of their representational videos at the Springbirth Business Conference.
