Game World

by C. J. Farley

  “Listen, one time the Professor—I mean my aunt—she brought home this ostrich. It’s like six feet tall. So of course it goes nuts and trashes the apartment. We thought it was gonna kill us. My aunt stays as cool as the other side of a pillow and gets it under control. So, do you know the difference between real courage and fake courage?”

  “No, what?”

  “Neither did the ostrich.”

  Dylan tried to look and sound sincere. He really meant what he was saying, even though he was mostly still thinking about his cheat code.

  Ines smiled. “I almost forgot. I still have one thing left in my I-Got-Your-Back Pack.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t say. But when it’s time to use it, you’ll know. I gave some to Eli.”

  She handed him a small vial of a greenish-looking potion. He slipped it in his pocket and she flew off to her position.

  Several minutes later, an argument broke out among some of the Maruunz. A few of the warriors were lobbying to fight on the front lines, but Cudgel would have none of it.

  “What’s going on?” Dylan interrupted.

  “Well, they’re Maruunz, but they’re not really Maruunz,” Cudgel explained. “We don’t even let them train with us. They’d just hold everyone back.”

  “How bad could they be?”

  “Dylan,” Cudgel said, “meet Sharpened Stick, Piece of Rope, and Candle Holder.”

  “Did you really spend four hundred years training with a sharpened stick?” Dylan asked.

  “Hey, we all had it better than Long Fingernails,” said Sharpened Stick.

  “Speak for yourself,” said Sock Full of Flower Petals.

  “I’m going to send this lot back to the village, out of the battle,” Cudgel said, “given that their particular fields of weaponry are ridiculous.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Dylan said. “Back on Earth—I mean Babylon—I’m in class every day with guys just like this.”

  “I have a battle to wage,” Cudgel declared, and he walked off. Nestuh gave Dylan an approving nod and skittered away too. Dylan stood in front of the rejects of the rejects.

  Sharpened Stick, Piece of Rope, Candle Holder, and Sock Full of Flower Petals looked back at him with hope in their eyes and their almost certainly useless weapons in their hands. Dylan started chewing his nails. A feeling of hopelessness began to take over his brain like when you have ten seconds remaining in a test and twenty questions left. If he was ever going to find Emma, he had to lead these rejects to victory. But it seemed like whenever he tried to help his sister, he just ended up making things worse.

  Like at that pirate party. Dylan had tried to take back Emma’s stolen doll, but a dozen goons were ready to fight him for it. “Do the contest like everyone else,” Chad had demanded. “Talk like Pirate Emma and we’ll give you the doll.” So Dylan did it: he gave a few “Ahoy, maties” and “Arggghs” and everyone laughed—until the girl in the pirate costume in the front row took off her mask. It was Emma, and she was crying. She grabbed the doll. “Argggh!” she screamed at the partygoers. “Are you entertained? Pirates don’t even talk that way! That whole argggh thing got started in bad movies! Arrrrgggggghh!” The video Chad shot—Pirate Girl Goes Crazy—went viral. The nightmare only stopped after someone planted a virus on the clip and shut it down.

  Dylan had to find someway to do something, but the trouble was, he didn’t know anything. Then he thought about that guy—was his name Frantz Fanon?—that Emma used to quote: What matters is not just to know the world but to change it. Dylan didn’t know how he was going to do that, but he had to try. He stopped biting his nails.

  “Listen, guys,” he announced,“you’ve been here for four hundred years. Time to grow up. Stay alert, and look to pitch in. Can you do that?”

  Okay, it wasn’t the best speech, but it was honest. And the rejects seemed to pick up on it. They saluted and scrambled to take up positions. Dylan armed himself with a rusty machete and caught up with Cudgel and the rest of the Maruunz in the forest. Maruunz specialized in concealing themselves before attacking. Even Dylan, who knew where to look, was surprised to see how well they blended in with the trees. He had twenty kids with him one second, and the next moment he was alone beneath a palm tree.

  But the enemy did them one better.

  Dylan couldn’t see anyone else in the woods but he was not alone.

  The forest smelled like new leaves. A powerful obeah had been cast here and he could feel it, like electricity running up and down his legs and arms. The magic had mostly been drained from Nanni Town, but amid the trees a natural mystic was circulating. Everything was young and fresh and growing. It was an invigorating environment. It was like coffee and a hot shower and an alarm clock all at once.

  But something or somethings were tracking Dylan. He could feel their hot gaze on his neck. A smell now hung in the air like the stench of dumpsters in summer. He began to walk faster—and then to run. He could see nothing, but he heard the stomp of feet, louder now, getting closer by the footfall. He looked around frantically for his comrades—but they were either too well hidden or gone. He wondered why no one saw him, why no Maruunz sprang to his aid. Where were they?

  Then he halted.

  That smell. The footfalls behind him. They weren’t regular walking sounds. They were more like hops. Dylan drew his rusty machete—he had figured out what was on his trail. “Show yourselves!” he cried.

  He spun around, stabbing wildly in the air. He struck something solid—a body?—and heard a roar that shook the trees and caused leaves to fall and flitter to the ground. Some of the leaves stopped in midair, balanced on the tops of the something or somethings.

  Just then, Dylan’s pursuers revealed themselves: he was surrounded by Hai-Uri.

  Even in this strange land, they were weird creatures—one-sided, with one eye, one arm, one leg, and one sharp tooth in their mouth. Dylan hadn’t seen them until they all turned around simultaneously. Now he was trapped in the center of a circle. And his friends wouldn’t be able to rescue him: the backs of the Hai-Uri were invisible and so this whole attack wouldn’t even be noticed from the other side.

  The circle of Hai-Uri closed tighter and tighter around him. He could smell the breath of the beasts more strongly now—they reeked of rotten meat. Hungry tongues darted out of all the hungry mouths. He had to make a break for it.

  Dylan figured that when a Hai-Uri’s single eye was closed, it was essentially blind. The second he saw one blink, Dylan could run full force into it—and break out of the circle. The only problem with this plan: the creatures weren’t blinking.

  The circle closed and the single eyes continued staring straight ahead, toward the center, right into Dylan.

  Something whispered through the air. One of the beasts stumbled, howling. A twig had stuck him right in his single eye. Sharpened Stick had saved him!

  The creature blinked and Dylan burst through the constricting loop. Now he saw, all around him, that some of the Maruunz kids had been flushed out of hiding by the Hai-Uri. Their forces were scattered, and on the retreat. Dylan began to run as well.

  He sprinted through the forest, knocking aside branches and vines. He jumped over streams and tripped on tree roots. Finally he came to the trunk of a hollow tree and he squeezed himself through a hole and covered it up behind him with a broad leaf.

  He could hear the Hai-Uri passing by the trunk, invisible, hungry, looking for meat. He could hear their hops and pants and occasional roars. Then he heard something else in the dark of the tree trunk.

  “It’s me,” came Carving Knife’s voice.

  Dylan’s eyes adjusted. He could see her now.

  “I guess we’re screwed,” Dylan said.

  “How so? This is the most perfect day of my life,” Carving Knife replied.

  “Why?”

  “There is no greater feat for a Maruunz than to be slain in battle. For us, a Death Day is even grander than a birthday.”

  “Happy
, um, Death Day, I guess.”

  “A joke? This is no game, Babylonian.”

  “I never said—”

  “I have heard that you and your friends believe this land is a game, like Shatranj. Trust me, if you die in Xamaica, you die. Some games you play. This game plays you.” At that, Carving Knife buried her face in her hands.

  “What’s the matter? I thought Death Day was a good day!”

  Carving Knife sniffled. “Yes, part of me longs for the heavenly hills of Zion. But there is something in me that wants to remain in the trees . . . never growing up . . . to stay with my brother always . . .” She wiped her eyes. “Anyway, I have a gift for you.” She handed Dylan a club.

  Dylan looked at her. “W-w-wasn’t this Cudgel’s weapon?”

  “My brother was lucky—he has marched on to Zion.”

  A tattoo on her neck told the story—her brother had slain three Hai-Uri before being jumped by five more. Carving Knife finished off all the attackers—but too late.

  “I have something for you.” Dylan took out the potion Ines had given him. The vial said Soon Come Serum on the side.

  “That’s powerful obeah,” Carving Knife said. “The element of surprise.”

  Dylan took a sip and offered the rest to her.

  “Let us drink to my brother,” she said, and then gulped the rest down. “Had he come of age, Cudgel would have taken the name Arianna.”

  “Really?”

  “My brother was . . . complicated. Yes, we fought—but I guess that’s why I loved him.”

  Dylan met Carving Knife’s steady gaze. Her eyes had turned from black to red. The color had spread everywhere—the iris, the pupils, even the whites. It was a deep, natural red—like a ripe apple, or blood, or Mars on a clear night.

  The Crimson Vision had come.

  “So what should I call you?” Dylan asked.

  “I name myself Astrid,” she declared.

  Astrid had come of age.

  “One heart,” Dylan said.

  “One faith,” Astrid answered.

  “Maruunz!” they said together.

  They burst out of the tree trunk. At that moment, Dylan heard a cry from above—it was Ines, swooping down. She roared—and her roar was louder than the cry of the Hai-Uri. It shook the tree trunks, and caused some to topple, tearing from the earth, roots and all. Her war-roar echoed across the sky and caused the ground to rumble and shake. They had taken the Hai-Uri by surprise.

  “Drive them to the river!” Ines shouted.

  The Maruunz closed ranks and Dylan and Ines hurried over to join them. The hunted were now the hunters. Startled, some of the Hai-Uri turned and broke ranks. Once the creatures began to move, they were no longer invisible. The Maruunz warriors started to run after them.

  “Maruunz—rally to me!” Astrid shouted.

  The Hai-Uri began to hop and stumble. Ines roared again and now the creatures began to flee wildly. The Maruunz ran after them in pursuit. Dylan swung his borrowed weapon wildly, taking two Hai-Uri out and forcing others to retreat.

  The Hai-Uri hopped quickly, but the Maruunz knew the forest. They dodged the branches, sprang over tree roots, swung on vines, and kept hot on the heels—or heel—of their prey. Many of the monsters tripped and fell. Piece of Rope had booby-trapped the forest floor!

  In a flash the Maruunz warriors were on the fallen creatures. With spinning Bangaran kicks and punches they subdued them. The remaining Hai-Uri kept fleeing toward the river. Dylan dropped the club, drew his rusty machete, and followed.

  Eli was waiting by the riverbank. There were dry leaves there, as things aged and died normally outside of the enchantment of the forest. Eli breathed fire and set the leaves ablaze like kindling as the Hai-Uri approached. The Hai-Uri, stunned and fearful, threw themselves into the river to escape being burned. As it turned out, one-legged creatures are even worse at swimming than they are at running. They quickly sank beneath the surface. This was turning into a one-sided battle.

  Eli raced away from the river and, along with Nestuh, pursued some of the Hai-Uri out through a grove of trees back in the direction from which they had come. Their opponents were in full retreat. Candle Holder had spread oil over the water—he then set it ablaze with a lit candle! None of the Hai-Uri surfaced.

  Ines spread her iron wings and roared, “Victory!”

  Dylan walked up to Piece of Rope, Candle Holder, Sharpened Stick, and Sock Full of Flower Petals. He slid his rusty machete back in his belt loop. “I have to admit, you guys were pretty helpful,” he said.

  “I guess four hundred years of puberty is plenty,” Sharpened Stick remarked. “Besides, it was Sock’s idea!”

  Sock Full of Flower Petals was tossing some of the contents of his sock into the air in celebration.

  “It’s too early to start throwing a jubilee,” Astrid warned. “That was just a scouting party. And now the Baron knows exactly where we are.”

  “We need another plan. Where are Eli and Nestuh?”

  No sooner had Dylan asked this question when he heard someone sobbing in the forest. He and Ines ran over to look. They spotted Eli—his huge Rolling Calf body was slumped in a grove of trees near the riverbank. Rivulets of flame ran up and down his flanks. He was weeping, but his tears turned to steam and floated up his cheek, rising past his horns, up into the sky, where they evaporated in the warm Xamaican sun.

  “What happened?” Dylan asked.

  “I was fighting alongside Nestuh,” Eli said, waving some of the steam away from his face. “We had driven them back. Then he said something about getting the drum.”

  “The Great Drum of Anancy?” Ines said. “Did he try to go and get it? That’s suicide!”

  “Why didn’t you stop him?” Dylan asked.

  “I followed him for a bit, helped him break through the lines. We had them on the run. But my Soon Come Serum wore off. And I . . . I . . . got sidetracked.”

  “Nanni’s book,” Dylan said.

  Dylan could see now that Eli was clutching the book to his smoldering chest. Dylan pulled it away from him in disgust and tossed it at the feet of a Maruunz warrior.

  “It was like the Baron was in my head tempting me!” Eli sobbed. “I felt this . . . this greed. The Baron’s men had taken the book. I tried to take it back.”

  “We don’t need the book,” Ines said.

  “I have bills to pay. Don’t you remember what the Soucouyant showed us? My family is gonna get ripped apart unless I come home with some money!”

  “That was an illusion,” Dylan said.

  “It felt real to me! My family has spent their life savings taking care of me. I need that book. The wealth of the world! It could make this whole stinking trip worth it!”

  “So that’s why you left Nestuh?” Ines began crying; tears streamed down her Iron Lion face. “For money?”

  “It was only gonna take a second to get it! But after I turned away, that’s when the ambush hit. Higues everywhere. And Soucouyants too.”

  Ines and Dylan looked at Eli in disbelief.

  “They got him,” Eli cried. “He’s gone.”

  The Baron had captured Nestuh. Three days were up. Morning had slithered into the sky and there were two moons hanging above the clouds. There was also Earth itself, looming above, bright and blue. Xamaica and the Earth seemed to be on a collision course. The sky was undone and the Groundation was nearly complete. The Great Web of the World was hanging by a single strand. Equality, Liberty, and Vitality had come untethered. Only Mystery remained. The Great Web hung on that last principle, flapping like a flag in the wind. And Nestuh was gone.

  “He wanted that drum in the worst way,” Eli sobbed. “He said it was the only way we were gonna win. I drove him to it. I get it! I screwed up!”

  The Baron’s forces marched on. From the West came the great dragons—of air, of fire, and, swimming down the Black River, of water. They spurted flame and blackened the earth and churned the water and darkened the sky with smoke as they ma
de their way toward the battleground.

  The Baron’s forces marched on. From the South came the Soucouyants and all manner of creatures that terrified and haunted. They came entwined with legions of zombies. The Soucouyants’ shrieking voices taunted their enemies and their Venus flytrap hands cradled deadly fireballs.

  The Baron’s forces marched on. From the East came the Iron Lions, and each one carried a golden spear and a golden shield and wore a golden helmet. And from the North came the hummingbirds, and when the children saw them, their hearts sank. They were no longer birds, but something older, something ancient—the beasts they had been before the Great Music. By some obeah, they had sharper beaks and longer talons and leather wings. The hulking warrior beasts closest to the Baron boasted low numbers on their chests—5, 4, 3, and 2. The Baron himself—familiar in a much larger version of his tattered top hat—flew before them. His gold 1 glowed brighter than ever, and he unleashed a cry louder by far than the Grand Chirp.

  The Baron was no longer shorter than this sentence. He was bigger than this book, larger than a library, gigantic and bloated and terrible. His eyes were menacing and unblinking, his wings were like those of a vast bat, and his beak was filled with cruel teeth, each one the size of a small child. Around his mouth, like a squid, were a tangle of tentacles, thrashing, squirming, covered with suckers. He was no tiny creature one had to strain to hear and see. He had taken the form of a massive primeval beast, mottled with slimy scales and long crimson feathers, neither fish nor fowl, but clearly very fishy and definitely really foul.

  Dylan’s double scratches felt like squirming snakes, lashing and biting his chest and filling it with icy venom. Now he knew for sure how he had gotten them—the Baron had done it. He could feel the connection. Even when Dylan was playing the game, the Baron had been reaching across worlds, trying to destroy him. A cold rage built up inside Dylan. He knew enough about ornithology to know that dinosaurs and birds were part of the same prehistoric family. “Did you know some dinosaurs had feathers?” the Professor would say excitedly. “Did you know they sat on their eggs just like birds? Dinosaurs never died—they’re in the skies!” And she was right. Whatever thing the Baron had transmogrified into was a huge horrid relative of birds, a missing link to the beasts of the sea, and a rude, distant cousin of dinosaurs. But this was the crazy uncle that never got invited to the family reunions.