Dream Park

by Larry Niven

  The church, crumbled and in jungle-moist disrepair, was small, not much more than living quarters for the long dead occupants. Services were held in a roofless chapel, an open area covered with ancient and rotted mats, where two hundred at a time might kneel together in prayer.

  The roofless chapel now hosted a ring of frenetic dancers. An­other ten or twelve natives, scattered in an outside ring, swayed silently to the beat without moving their feet. In the middle of the area was a frame of timbers lashed in the form of a vertical "X".

  "If she isn't out here, then she's got to be inside the church building itself-" Dark Star's breath caught in her throat, and she pulled her companions back further into the bushes.

  The figure that came out of the building was a strange one. He looked more beast than man. His nails were talon-long and sharp, his canines were filed to points, his hair was a shattered wasp's-nest of mud and sticks. He glared around the clearing, looking right past them, and spoke sharply and hurriedly to the dancers. They took handfuls of grain from little leather pouches at their waists and began to sow it.

  Griffin nudged Fortunato. "Most of their attention is focussed in front of the building. Shall we try the rear?"

  Fortunato's grin split the stained blackness of his face. "What about it, Star? Will we need a distraction?"

  "Only to get out alive. Now listen, both of you. We need to work our way around to the other side of the church, and we have got to do it quietly. Follow me." She shifted the rifle from behind her shoulder and held it across her chest as she crouched. She ran lightly through the bushes. At intervals of five meters Griffin and Fortunato followed.

  They made it to the other side of the clearing and stopped, sur­veying. Dark Star nodded, and they scurried across the fifteen me­ters of clearing to the back of the church. The rear wall was half again as tall as she. "Boost me," she whispered to Griffin. He bent and linked fingers for her to step into, and straightened up. The Thief caught the edge of the roof and pulled herself up until she had both elbows resting on it. With a final push from Griffin, she was up.

  Fortunato helped Griffin up, and the big man returned the favor. Fortunato was panting heavily. Dark Star sent him a dirty look, and he tried to quiet it down.

  Years of rain and weather had reduced a once sturdy roof of thatch and timbers to rotted weakness. They were able to crawl along the main supports without much risk, but the tilt of the roof made it a tricky business. The sound of the music and stamping feet drowned any noise they were making. If they didn't shake down too much dust on the people within, they would be all right.

  Dark Star shinnied up the slanted center beam, bracing her feet in the thatch. Griffin and Fortunato followed. She halted a couple of meters from the top, drew her knife, and slit a peephole in the woven straw. She had to saw at some of the stronger fibers, but accomplished her task without noise. Griffin followed suit.

  The room below them was dimly lit, but in the flickering light of a single torch it was possible to make out four figures. Two men stood with arms folded, bracketing a woman who lay bound on a pallet. Above her loomed the mud-haired man who had directed the dancers. At this range they could make out slitted cheeks stained with fresh blood: self-inflicted ritual wounds, prob­ably rubbed with dirt or manure to create permanent scars.

  The girl was blond, and her clothes, now tatters, had once been expensive and beautiful. Griffin couldn't see her face clearly, but her body was small and sweetly shaped.

  Dark Star's toe nudged Griffin's ear, and he glanced up. She

  gestured, cutting the air with her knife. Griffin made a circle of forefinger and thumb. He liked the idea; the thatch roof seemed to be made of two sturdy mats joined at the center beam. If they slit it where it met the beam, they would be able to drop through onto their enemies.

  Quietly, they cut. The moonlight made their task easy, and only the pulsating sound of the drums promised doom. Once, one of the guards below glanced up, and they stopped cutting until he turned away. Griffin looked back at Fortunato, who kept the watch for them. The Thief rubbed at the charcoal around his eyes and waved back dutifully.

  Dark Star was preparing to peel the roof back when the door of the chapel opened, and several warriors filed in. The girl moaned as they hoisted her to their shoulders. They carried her out.

  Griffin heard the lady Thief curse venomously. He understood how she felt. So close.

  Two guards remained in the room after the others left. Griffin tapped Dark Star on the foot. He pointed down. "All right," she whispered, "give it a-"

  A patch of air in front of her face glowed red. "Gary," she said, breaking character, "your blade is still live. Sheath it and unlock the handle."

  Griffin looked at her blankly before he remembered the admo­nitions given to him by the referees in Gaming Central.

  1) No live blades during personal combat. All edged weapons have detachable blades, with simple holo projectors in their hilts. All sheath sensors must confirm lock-down before combat se­quences can begin.

  2) No physical contact allowed, and no blows may be aimed at joints, groin, face or neck except with hologram blades.

  3) Minor infractions will necessitate halting of the Game and awarding of penalty points. Major infractions will automatically terminate the Game.

  Alex pushed his poniard into its holder until he heard it click. Then he twisted the hilt a half-turn, and it came free. An eight­inch glowing blade projected from it, and he passed a finger warily through the field. The red glow before Dark Star's face dissolved, and she gave him the go-ahead.

  But the Griffin's own face felt like it was glowing in the dark. Jesus, a Dream Park Security Chief had been that close to slicing

  up two actors! Great publicity there, 0 Griffin!... hell with it. Griffin ripped the roof open and dropped into the room.

  The guards were taken unawares. He landed almost on top of one; his knife plunged bloodlessly into his back half a dozen times. The native collapsed. The second one tripped over the corpse of the first, and as he flailed to the ground Griffin cut his throat neatly.

  The big Thief shook his head. "Swordfodder," he muttered.

  Dark Star dropped from the roof, followed by Fortunato, who nearly twisted his ankle. She looked around at the damage, and gave him a grudging nod of approval. "Pretty smooth for a first-timer. What do you do for an encore?"

  He ignored her and moved quietly to the door. "We don't have much time. They're getting ready to do it now."

  She peeked out at the wooden frame, where the European girl was being anointed with a mash of crushed grain and pig blood.

  "Fortunato," Dark Star said, pulling the blackfaced Thief to her, "do you think you can hit a man's throat at fifteen meters?"

  "I can try. My Wessler-Grahm is seventy-nine for dexterity, and beyond that it's up to the computer. The gun might be better."

  "No, save the bullets. Use the knife."

  Fortunato twisted the knife hilt free, and now he held a glowing blade.

  "We'll have to time this just right..."

  The music outside grew louder. Swirling and capering, the scarred and mud-haired high priest moved around the girl and jabbed at her with a blade chipped from black glass. The others moved back to let their leader dance, hypnotized by his move­ments. He was fairly foaming at the mouth now, scuttling from side to side like a rabid crab. He drew a knifeline of blood on his own stomach, then writhed forward, rubbing his belly against the girl's and smearing her with blood.

  Griffin couldn't see the captive's face from this angle, but he could see her body stiffen and jerk away. The high priest grinned lasciviously and did it again, more slowly, and this time her wail of misery rose quaveringly above the throb of the drums. He raised the knife high, and- "Now!" Dark Star hissed. Fortunato's hand flickered in a short

  arc as he mimed throwing the blade. A glitter of silver flashed from his hand to the priest's throat. The priest gagged, hands

  flying to his neck, and blood dr
ooled from between writhing lips.

  "Bullseye!" Fortunato shrieked delightedly. Before the word was out of his mouth Griffin was out of the doorway and streaking to the side of the captive. There was a brief moment when their eyes met, and the gratitude and awe in her face were glorious. Fortunato was at his side in the next instant, and they faced the charge side by side as Dark Star untied the girl's bonds.

  The first man in thrust a spear with a glowing point at Griffin. The Thief sidestepped, grasped the haft firmly, and twisted. The man somersaulted and landed on his back. The second man in got the glowing point in the stomach and collapsed, howling. A quick glance at Fortunato showed that he had acquired another glowing blade and was holding two natives at bay.

  Dark Star had the girl loose. She thrust her to the center of a protective triangle formed by the three Thieves. Two men rushed her. One went down before Dark Star's knife. She sidestepped the other's wild swing. He sprawled to the ground, and she finished him from behind.

  Suddenly the mass of natives pulled back into a ring, and sev­eral spears were raised to casting height. As they prepared to throw, there was a marrow-rending screech from the rear. The na­tives turned en masse to meet the new threat, but it was clear from the first that they were unequal to the task.

  For Mary-em had arrived. The little woman charged like a ber­serker, her glowing halberd tilted before her. Her leather armor was caked with dirt and her face was grubby and scratched, but the gleam in her eyes was effervescent. A dozen warriors and wiz­ards charged behind her.

  Gina's power staff whined and piped its song; lightning leapt from the tip as she played and danced amid the slaughter. Panthe­silea wielded her sword with stunning speed, fighting her way to Fortunato's side swiftly, pursing a kiss at him before turning to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the fray.

  The natives fought to the death, every one of them. Spears, knives, and corded muscles glistened in the torchlight as the battle raged.

  Oliver the Frank moved in a cautious circle around his oppo­nent, native spear matched to glowing broadsword. The spear's lu. ininous tip grazed his stomach as Oliver twisted aside, thrusting his own weapon in the next instant. The native's spear jerked up, and Oliver had to acknowledge a deflection. The two men with-

  drew to the ready position, attention focussed totally on each other. Oliver faked high and went for the knees. As the native warrior tried to block he overreached and Oliver looped the blade up and into the ribs. Howling, his foe went down holding his stomach.

  The battle was almost over, natives lying dead and broken ev­erywhere. Suddenly the Lore Master yelled for their attention. He pointed to the roof of the church.

  Lurching along its edge, knife projecting from the hollow of his throat, tottered the priest. His eyes were glassy, and half-dried blood shown on his chest as he looked down at them.

  His lips twitched back from his teeth in a ghastly caricature of a smile, eyes alight with a hatred stronger than death. He opened his mouth, and gurgling whispers bubbled forth.

  "Back, everyone!" Chester screamed unnecessarily. They re­treated from a patch of air shimmering in the square. "Get the girl and let's get out of here!" Chester yelled, but by that time it was far too late: the shimmering patch cut the girl off from everyone but Eames and Leigh, who stood over her alertly.

  "What do you think, Chester?" Gina asked, panting.

  "Reveal Barrier!" he yelled. A bolt of green flashed from his hand into the glowing area and dissolved it.

  "Illusion! It was a stall-"

  The jungle behind them shook with the sound of branches snap­ping and popping. The ground shook with an ominous rhythm, and Eames swept the girl into his arms, carrying her to the center of the Garners. They formed a ragged half-circle facing the jungle, and waited.

  There was a collective gasp as the thing lumbered out of the trees into the clearing. It was huge, the size of the church building, with a snakelike head attached to a grayish, roughly spherical body. It had dozens of short stubby legs that moved more like cilia than jointed appendages, and carried it toward the Garners with frightening speed. The mouth was strange, shocking. It was no bigger than a man's mouth. It was lost on that vast face.

  Chester watched its approach cautiously. He saw the thing glide up to one of the fallen natives. Its mouth expanded like an awakening Morning Glory, exposing gums lined with row after row of small sharp teeth. It hunched over the body and slurped it in halfway, and chewed.

  Chester backed away. ‘We don't want any part of that thing. Let's clear out of here."

  Fortunato called, "Chester?" and waved the heavy revolver he was carrying.

  "Try it," Chester commanded. "The rest of you, get going!"

  The Gamers began an orderly retreat. The creature finished the native and glanced up. Its mouth pursed hungrily. It followed, fast.

  Fortunato/McWhirter stood braced with his legs apart, arms stiff, both hands wrapped around the gun butt. He fired twice, quickly, and paused to observe the effect.

  Two small pucker marks on its smooth front were not bleeding; in fact, they were closing. It hadn't slowed at all.

  Tony fired again, more carefully, aiming for its eyes and mouth. He fired until the gun was empty, then ran like a Thief, with the creature too close behind him.

  The orderly retreat became a rout. Kasan Maibang led them to a path through the bush wide enough to travel double-file, and the wave of Garners stretched out into a line. Tony McWhirter's sprint had cost him; he was exhausted. He ran like he was about to fall over at every step.

  Chester ran with Maibang. "What is that monstrosity?"

  The little guide's reply was wheezed between clenched teeth. "It is called a Nibek. Our enemies called it to avenge themselves."

  The Lore Master looked back. The trees weren't slowing it. Timber was smashed into bits by every shrug of that massive body, and still it gained, a disturbingly human snarl decorating the tiny mouth.

  "Damn it!" a voice screamed from the rear. He looked again, and saw who it was, at the tail of the column: Mary-em, her legs too short for real speed. Another few seconds and the tiny mouth would expand to swallow her- "Leave her," Maibang said urgently. "In the time it takes to eat her, we can be far up the trail-"

  "I should feed you to that goddam thing," Chester raged. "She's mine, damn you, and that Nibek can't have what's mine without a fight." He pivoted and raised his arms. "Hear me, 0 Gods-" The green glow surrounded his body, and when he yelled the sound was like roaring thunder. "Gather to my side, my chil­dren of light and darkness. This spawn of Hell shall not have us.,,

  Fortunato was hugging a tree, gasping. To Alex he wheezed, "Acacia says... Thieves don't fight well. Better hang back."

  Eames had joined Mary-em, and the Nibek drew up short, hiss­ing. Its scaly head weaved slowly to and fro; and one eye was missing, shot away. Panthesilea and Oliver joined them, blades out and ready. Behind them, Gwen knelt in prayer, casting a spar­kling white aura around them.

  Gina and Bowan the Black slipped to the right, flanking the thing. Chester went left.

  It attacked. On its first pass Mary-em stabbed at its remaining eye, diving out of the way so that its answering snap only grazed her. She had missed. Eames slashed at it, and the Nibek swung its head around too swiftly for the Warrior to escape. He stumbled back as his aura flashed red. The monster's mouth began to ex­pand, and only Oliver's blow to its legs turned it back around. Oliver backed up until he was against a tree, and the Nibek's mouth smiled as it came in for the kill. The white protective field around Oliver glowed more intensely, and the thing gave its war­bling cry of frustration when it couldn't get through.

  It turned its attention to Gwen, who still knelt in prayer. She kept her eyes closed until it was almost upon her, then turned her palms outward, and the full power of her inner strength blasted into its face. It reared back, blinded.

  From his side angle, the Lore Master unleashed a bolt of such intensity that the night became red-tinted
day for an instant. Dreager tried to bat the Nibek with a large branch, and as the monster recoiled from Chester's blow, it smashed into the Engi­neer. Dreager's aura went bright red, fading to black.

  But now the Garners were better organized. The Nibek bit at Gwen while Bowan seared it with flame. Tony had reloaded and was firing into the beast. The brush itself crackled and smoked, but the Nibek's hide only crinkled under the assault. Griffin hurled his captured spear, and it went through the creature's head com­pletely. Though greenish blood pulsed from the wound, it lived

  on.

  "Its brain must be in the body! Magic Users! Closer in now!"

  Gina stood almost in the midst of the smoking brush and hurled her power into the creature's side. It struck a tree in its agony, and a mass of flaming branches fell, striking Gina squarely. She yelled her rage as her aura went red and then drained to flickering black. Chester saw it, and his face went sick. "Bowan! This is no good!

  This thing is too strong, it's killing us! I'm going to try for a split attack!"

  Bowan set his balance and redoubled his efforts, a fountain of flame pouring from his fingertips.

  Chester threw his arms wide and intoned:

  "Hear me now, oh Lords of Light!

  Knowing that I fight your fight.

  I care not what the spell may cost,

  Let your servant pour forth-frostl"

  From the tips of Chester's fingers gushed a stream of white par­ticles that struck the Nibek opposite the side bathed in fire. The thing's mouth quoited out and it screamed as its skin split down the spine, exposing bone and red meat.

  Now the Nibek was in real agony. Bowan changed his attack and sent his fire arcing over directly into the wound. It crawled in diminishing circles like a half-crushed beetle. Now the warriors moved in, slashing and stabbing. It was eyeless and nearly legless, and still trying to run, when the Garners hacked it apart.