A Sinister Game

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Victor took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He could feel his eyes glowing, cold and bright. He had no choice in this.

  It was now or never.

  So be it, he thought. He was going to get to Victoria. He was going to save her from whatever the duplicitous Blood had planned for her, and at whatever the cost. If that cost was a thousand lives, possibly his own, then he would pay it. For Victoria.

  So be it.

  * * * *

  Max thought carefully on what he was about to do. He was alone in the transporter cube, having given his men the order to prepare and wait for him at the TGB.

  There was something he wanted to try before he left the Field again and Arthur One was still in rehabilitation. He had a little time.

  What he had planned might make all of the difference in the world when it came to retrieving Victoria and bringing her back inside the wall. He didn’t want to hurt her. He would if he had to, and he could have someone else heal her. But he truly didn’t want to.

  With practiced ease, Max slid back into his role as team captain, placed the impassive mask of collaboration across his face, and punched in the code that would take him to the Red tower.

  The transporter whirred to life, blurring the cube around him in that impossible way it always did. Within seconds, he had arrived and the doors were sliding open.

  Max stepped out into the Red tower’s main meeting room and looked around. It was empty at the moment, but there were sounds coming from one of the rooms adjoining it. He heard female laughter and the clink of toasting glasses.

  It was April and Ty. If they were together and drinking, then they were undoubtedly alone, which meant that Simon knew to give them their privacy for the evening.

  Max tamped down his disappointment. He would have liked to have the Red team’s resident genius on his side as well, but there was no time to go searching for him where he was most likely sequestered in the TGB’s gigantic, many-leveled, labyrinthine library.

  Ty and April would have to do.

  “Ty! April!” he called, taking the tone of a team captain who was once all business and in charge.

  The laughter from the room beyond stopped at once. Within a few seconds, the two team players were making their way around the corner.

  Ty was busily re-buttoning his downtime uniform jacket, which had been opened to reveal the expanse of dark brown skin and trained muscle beneath. April was straightening her undershirt. Her shoulder length shock of red hair was slightly mussed.

  Max tried not to let his impatience show. Instead, he wore the worried expression he wanted them to see and met them halfway. “Victoria’s in danger,” he said. “Black has her beyond the wall. We have to help her.”

  Ty blinked. April’s jaw dropped open.

  It was a good ten seconds before either of them spoke.

  Ty shook his head quickly, and held up his hand. “Hold up. What are you saying, Blood?”

  “I didn’t learn of it until this morning, but apparently Victor Black challenged Victoria to a private Game,” Max explained in as calm a tone as possible. He allowed some of the real anger he felt to edge his words in order to lend credibility to his story.

  “In doing so, he lured her beyond the wall. You know how dark leaders are, and he’s the worst of them.” He made a face to show his “distaste,” and the other two with perfect predictability mirrored it.

  “No kidding,” April agreed. “He is the worst.” Something in her expression glossed over for a moment and she shrugged. “He’s hot, though….” She shook herself. “But you’re right. He’s bad.”

  Ty shot her a hard look, but she missed it because she was looking back up at Max.

  “How did he get her to accept that kind of challenge?” she asked. Max could read her mind as easily as if he were reading a children’s book. She was concerned and confused, and growing antsy.

  It was perfect.

  “I don’t know,” Max lied. “But she did.” He shook his head, sighing in frustration that was only partially faked. “She’s put everything in jeopardy with this. And if Black has his way, who knows what he’ll do with her? He could brainwash her, turn her against us and Game Control. The man’s gone rogue.” He ran his hand through his brown hair and paced away from them in a show of agitated aggravation.

  They were buying the performance. Probably because it was so damn real.

  Victoria’s team was very loyal. Suddenly it occurred to Max that he should be grateful Simon wasn’t there after all. Simon Roon was very smart and of all of them, he might have actually maintained enough skepticism to question what Max was saying.

  “We have to go after her,” Ty said, his jaw set in determination.

  “Agreed,” April added. She squared her shoulders. “We need to find Simon. He can figure out what we should do first.”

  Idiots, Max thought. They’re idiots. They’re not even asking me how I know any of this. This is too easy.

  “There’s no time,” Max told them as he strode to the transporter cube. “We need to head out now. Victoria’s out there alone with Black.” He pressed the control to open the door. “The longer we wait, the more time he has to do whatever it is he’s planning.” He used a bit of his dark leader power then, letting his influence sink into their minds with iniquity. He filled their heads with dark images, helping their apprehension along.

  April was at his side in an instant, her pallor having gone decidedly pale.

  Ty was behind her. “How do you know all of this?” he asked.

  Max blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that.

  “How do you know she breached the wall?” April asked, adding to Max’s surprise. Maybe they weren’t as idiotic as he’d pegged. He had Victoria to thank for that; her leadership and training were showing now.

  He recovered quickly. “I know,” he answered plainly. The transporter doors slid open and he stepped inside. “This morning, a friend told me he’d seen Victoria and Black speaking yesterday. I tried to locate her using the computers and failed. Her Game band was in her quarters.” He paused, raising his brows. “You getting in?”

  The two realized they were standing outside of the open, waiting cube and hurriedly stepped into the transporter. The doors slid shut behind them.

  Max continued. “At lunch today, one of the Arthurs, Arthur thirty-two, asked to speak with me. In confidence, he told me that his controls had registered an energy spike for one of the transporters. He said it took the cube to an outside sector. He’d heard I was searching for Victoria, and apparently no one can find Black either. We put two and two together.”

  Ty whistled low. Max read his thoughts. He was thinking that those circumstances were incredibly lucky. He was also wondering how much time they had and how bad things already were.

  April was thinking along the same lines.

  Max hid the smile he felt forming on his lips and instead punched in the same code that had taken him beyond the wall earlier. It wasn’t the code Victoria had been forced to use, of course. Unlike Victoria, Max had access to any code he wanted. He didn’t have to appear in the outside sectors seventy feet under water.

  It was part and parcel to holding rank of second in command at Game Control.

  “Where are we going now?” April asked.

  “I’m dropping you two off outside the wall. Then I’m heading back to the TGB to pick up more help. We’ll need supplies too, but the three of us together are too easy to recognize, so I’ll go alone. Then I’ll meet you in Sector three.” He stepped back from the console and took a deep breath, as if steadying his nerves and contemplating the task they were about to undertake. “I don’t doubt that Black will have his own little regiment of minions to fall back on if things start to go wrong for him. He must know that he’s already ruined his chances of continuing as team leader, and there is nothing more desperate than a man with nothing left to lose. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

  Ty cleared his throat. He was looking at th
e floor of the cube. He ran his hand over his bald head and said, “How are we planning to keep this under GC’s radar?”

  Max stared at him. In the Gamer’s mind, he was ready to fight to save his leader if he had to, but he was afraid of Game Control. He didn’t want the government to find out that Victoria had ventured beyond the wall. He didn’t want her to be punished, and he didn’t want to be punished for going after her.

  Max couldn’t blame him.

  “You don’t need to worry about Game Control,” he calmly assured him, again using his dark leader ability to push his words home.

  We already know.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Victoria felt strange. As Brom trotted along, things began to look familiar to her. It wasn’t the kind of familiarity that one would get after having just been somewhere. It was the kind that rests in the back of the mind, asleep and silent, until that whiff of a certain scent or that breeze that feels a certain way – or that face that seems like you’ve seen it in a dream – comes along to wake it back up again.

  That was what she felt now. The horse paced through a wilderness that Victoria almost knew. There were crumbling buildings out here, stone structures that must have fallen hundreds if not thousands of years ago. They looked like weathered, beaten skeletons of something she might have once walked through. They resembled the worn out remains of a place that she might have once celebrated a birthday in.

  With a cake?

  And candles….

  There were clusters of these buildings here and there, but the landscape was hollow. She felt a sort of once-was-ness. There was no other way to describe it. She’d never seen anything like this before.

  Within the wall, everything was new. It was clean and shiny, and the Arthurs and their teams worked on keeping everything running in perfect condition, all the time.

  But not here. Not this. This was a world that had taken its last breaths long ago. What was the last conversation held within its walls? Who was the last to leave? And why?

  How does a place… die?

  Brom stopped beside an ancient-looking fountain. A statue had been erected here, placed atop what was once a school of carved fish. The statue’s features were destroyed, as if smashed with a sledgehammer. Its arms were missing. It was a female figure in a long skirt, and beneath the hem of the stone skirt was a word. Victoria could almost make it out….

  There was a shifting sound to Victoria’s right. She spun in the saddle, her gold gaze searching the shadows between two skeleton buildings. “Who’s there?”

  The scuffling-shuffling sound came again. A twig broke. A moment later, a woman stepped hesitantly into the light.

  Victoria blinked. The woman’s appearance was unsettling. She looked strange. Her face was deeply and repeatedly lined, and her eyes were a dull, faded color shot through with red veins. Her body was hunched, as if she were carrying a great weight on her back, but there was nothing there.

  No one looked like that on the Field.

  The woman approached slowly, cautiously. She appeared even more surprised than Victoria. In fact… she looked so pale, so stunned, Victoria thought the woman might be ill or that she would perhaps faint. Surely, only a horrible sickness could cause a person to become so withered?

  “Who are you?” Victoria asked, wary and admittedly a little afraid. What if this was actually Black? What if it was him in some impossible, unrecognizable form? Would he do this just to confuse her?

  But there was no cold here. No feeling of power radiated from the stranger. There was only the small wrinkled woman and this old, echo of a place.

  The woman stopped in her approach and blinked, her lined brow furrowed in confusion. No – in disbelief.

  “Meeda?” The woman asked. Her voice was the sound the leaves made in the fall when they scraped across the outer yards at the TGB. “Is that you?” she asked. She took a tentative, small step forward and gave a tiny shake of her bowed head. Gray hair wisped around her face. “Can… it really be?” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” Victoria muttered, clueless as to what to say or do.

  As if sensing her unease, Brom took a wary step back.

  But something tickled at Victoria’s mind. The woman watched her from below, a pained expression on her furrowed face.

  Something was yawning awake inside of Victoria. It stirred, uncomfortable and disconcerting. She felt misplaced, disoriented. “I think you have the wrong…” Her voice trailed off. The wrong what?

  The strange woman stopped. Her bloodshot eyes widened. She straightened. Her expression went from disbelieving to positively amazed. Her pale, prosaic eyes were shiny with hastily built, unshed tears.

  She inhaled sharply, her withered hand covering her mouth in wonder. “Oh gods,” her voice scratched. “Rose!” It cracked and came out as a sob. “Oh my dear Thor, you’ve come home, Rose! My sweet Rose!”

  And all at once, Victoria remembered.

  The world tumbled toward her as quickly as her memories did. She was unconscious when she hit the ground.

  * * * *

  “You were right,” said Baldur.

  “Of course I was,” said Odin. “You think I threw my eye into that blasted well for nothing?”

  Loki glanced over at Baldur, who always caught the sharp edge of his father’s temper since Thor had been away. The blonde-haired Baldur took it with easy grace however, allowing the All Father’s harsh tone to slide right over him as if his skin were composed of armor. Which wasn’t far off.

  Odin, impossibly tall and equally broad, stood from his throne and began pacing. Outside in the human world, storms were building in response.

  As he paced, a young goddess with golden hair stepped forward from the shadows along one wall of the great hall. “All Father, may I see my sister?”

  Odin stopped and turned to face her. His harsh expression softened a little, but he shook his head. “No, Andromeda. I knew you would ask, child. But it isn’t possible.”

  “Why not?” the woman asked.

  Odin considered her. She had been very young when she’d died. She’d been but a child when she had drawn her last breath – and Ullr had brought her here to mature into the goddess she was born to be.

  She looked away from him, meeting Loki’s gaze instead. He held it fast, trying to comfort her with its reassurance.

  They had been lovers ever since her arrival, she and Loki. It was a match that made little logical sense, yet was instantaneous and strong as steel despite the fact that Loki was the god of fire and Andromeda was the young champion of Ullr, who was the god of ice.

  Odin sighed heavily. Loki and Andromeda turned to regard him once more.

  The All Father moved forward and gently grasped the Andromeda by her upper arms. “You can not see your sister because it would only frighten and distract her. War is brewing, Andromeda. This has been a long time coming; nothing must interfere now that the tide is at last turning.”

  He let go of her and turned to face Loki. The kindness in his face dropped and his mood was back. Just like that. “I don’t need to ask you since I already know everything, but I’ll ask anyway because it frankly amuses me. How is your young champion holding up now that she’s remembering where she came from?”

  Loki managed not to smile. It would have been blatantly rude to appear as if he were enjoying himself when the All Father so obviously was not. However, Loki actually liked Odin when he was pissy like this. It was the fire in him, he guessed. Loki liked fire. “She fainted dead away and is still sleeping,” Loki told him. “I’m keeping her under until I can get back down there to explain things to her.”

  “Yes, she trusts you.” Odin paused. “Or she trusts Anders, anyway. Good.” Odin nodded and strode back to his throne. “Wise decision, Loki. If only Thor would deign to make choices half as wise.”

  To that, Loki said nothing. Though he couldn’t have agreed more.

  “Speaking of Thor, where is he right now?” Odin asked as he reclaimed his thro
ne and sat back with a sigh.

  “He’s waiting for Victor Black to ‘recruit’ him against Maxwell Blood and Game Control,” Loki said.

  Thousands of years ago, the human world below had been much different than it was now. In the beginning, the old gods chose champions from among the humans and imbued those special few with god-like powers. The humans were to use these abilities to do good in the world.

  It was Baldur’s idea, of course. Everything nice and fluffy and sparkly always was Baldur’s idea.

  Regardless, the idea more or less worked out. Under the protection, guidance, and help of their champions, humans became more intelligent, lived longer, were kinder toward one another. Hence, society advanced at a rapid pace.

  Unfortunately, it was not to last.

  One day Odin foretold that a man would be born to the world who would change the fate of the gods and their people for ages to come.

  Not long after, that man was born. He was a highly intelligent and charismatic man filled with the fear of death and an envy of the gods. It proved to be a truly dangerous combination, for the man managed to gather about him some of the most brilliant minds of his highly developed world – and they created the wall.

  The technology was both simple and complex. The wall was a magnet of sorts, a homing beacon for power. It pulled in the very power of the gods and turned it around to use it against them.

  Once a god’s champion was trapped inside the wall, in what they called the Field, the wall fed off of his or her magic and amplified the vitality of everything within its circumference while sapping the same from everything without. Humans inside of the wall could literally live forever. Those outside lived half as long as they once did. As a result, their society faltered. Technology fell by the wayside in exchange for time spent on family, on reflection, and on making the most of what few years they did have.

  Once the Game Lord had the wall built to his specifications and satisfaction, he killed the men who built it to keep its secret safe.