by O. J. Lowe
Suddenly she was disgusted with herself. Blut wasn’t a key part of the plan. His knowledge wasn’t lost, his notes still existed. He’d been a luxury that had become almost convincing in its need to be a necessity and yet it still could be done without him. If he was dead, he would be remembered. But nothing more. But to cast the whole project into doubt because of him not being there to be a part of it…
She might have spat at that thought; would it not belie her aura of control. She was better than self-doubt. Her Future would come to pass and the world would be a better place for it.
On the screen, the eel sprang up out of the water and bit the dog on the nose, dozens of little needle teeth ripping through fur and flesh and bone to tear it away. The dog let loose a blast of electricity into it in revenge, its face a mask of blood and gore but if the eel was bothered by the high voltage, it didn’t show it. With blood streaked down its skin, it wriggled back into the pool and stuck its head out of the water as if to taunt its opponent. The half breed boy looked worried.
A means to an end. That’s all it was. She hadn’t enjoyed all the lobbying to ensure that tournament took place on that crap hole of an island. It had been degrading to say the least, pandering to all those loathsome men and their high nosed ideas of how many credits they wanted for the pleasure. Getting rid of the natives had been more trouble than it had been worth in the first place. Especially taking them alive. Would have been easier to kill them, again had Blut not intervened, they would have been exterminated on sight. But no, he’d discovered the cavern under the island and formed his theories about the statue of Kalqus. Gods loved sacrifice. That had been Blut’s theory and he’d bled them each day over the statue until something had happened.
His last transmission had told her of the portal. And it had sounded beautiful, a doorway to another side, a clear opening to something she’d always been only able to dream of. And it had been snatched away from her cruelly. The reports had come in about the storm on the island. It had interrupted Blut’s transmission. As it had faded, she’d soon gotten the message that the operation was a failure.
So, what now? She’d already sent someone to Blut’s home to retrieve his notes and his files, she’d need to arrange someone to go through them for any information. Someone who could be bought and discarded when no longer needed. She wasn’t going to make the mistake of assuming anyone was irreplaceable again. Only she was that. Without her, it would all fall to pieces and her vision of the future would never be realised.
Her thoughts turned to the statue on her desk, the one her bodyguard had retrieved all those days ago, still sat proud against the violet velvet of the carry case. She shouldn’t be carrying it around with her. It should be back at home, taking pride of place in her collection. So why did she feel unable to let it out of her sight. She reached out and stroked a fingertip across it delicately. It was an ugly bit of stone, unpleasant to the touch and yet somehow it wasn’t something she felt able to let go of.
Weird.
Her quiet contemplation was to be broken immediately by the sudden trill of the comm and she sat bolt upright in her chair, startled by the eruption of sound shattering the silence. She shot a look at her bodyguard, he hadn’t reacted. Sometimes she cursed his calm unflappable demeanour as she answered the call, still quietly seething.
“Yes?!” she said, not shouting but her voice still quietly pointed.
“Mum?” came the familiar voice. She relaxed. Meredith. Not that talking to her daughter right now would be that much more pleasant. “You want to go for dinner? There’s a new place opened up and…”
She fought the urge to smile coolly. “Meredith, I have a busy schedule for the next few hours…” a lie but what could you do. “… but I’ll see what I can do to clear it. Come by the office and I’ll meet you.”
“Okay. Thanks mum. Ah… I love you, mum.”
“Anything for my little girl. Love you too.” She quickly hung up and this time the sigh came out long and harsh as she looked at her bodyguard. “You ever think about having kids?”
“No, Mistress.”
“My advice is don’t,” she said. “More trouble than they’re worth. Maybe that’s my fault.” She watched him, curious about his reaction as his face lit up with horror at her very suggestion.
“Never, Mistress. You’ve been good to your daughter and how does she repay you?”
He sounded like he believed it as well. Not that it mattered. Meredith might be her flesh and blood but the future would be her true legacy.
And nobody would ever forget that. She wouldn’t permit them to.
“Palawi!”
Scott’s scream filled the stadium as Palawi hit the surface of the water and immediately went under, the eyes unfocused and any attempt at breathing long since gone. Across from him, Illic, the eel grinned evilly at him through beady little eyes and he felt a stab of anger rush through him as he met the glare. Bruzack still remained impassive, his only sign of reaction being to flick something from his sleeve. A few seconds passed and then science took its recourse, the body floated back up to the top and Scott had it confirmed that Palawi was not going to be able to continue. And it sickened him that he’d made such a bad choice in battle. It really did.
Stupid, stupid idiot! He’d managed to go from Seasel giving that bloody rat a pounding to somehow losing. And how?
Okay, he knew the answer but he didn’t like it. Stupid cocky idiot! He finished mentally berating himself, the realisation that it was neither the time nor the place hitting him like a hammer. He needed to get his head back into the game and force something from it. Illic still was relatively healthy, Palawi had landed some blows but not enough, nowhere near enough. He needed more. A lot more.
And maybe he had the answer. Scott looked out at the pool and realised that maybe he’d made a mistake. He’d played his hand to adapt to the environment and it had served him badly. Bruzack hadn’t really done that, he’d fought his own game and it was serving him well. When Seasel had been pounding Armand, he hadn’t panicked, he’d just continued the same strategy as he’d intended.
Well no more. He took one more look at the pool and made his choice. This might be a tight fit but it could work. Worst case scenario, he couldn’t say he hadn’t given his all in making the effort to win.
“Snooze,” he muttered, locking in the last container crystal. “It’s all up to you. Let’s go out and make a comeback.” Somewhat confident than he had been a moment ago, he let it go and covered his face for the inevitable splash.
He still found himself soaked. Okay, a splash might be understating it somewhat. More like a mini-tsunami as the water hit him, it soaked Bruzack who for the first time showed some emotion other than casual disinterest and even the front few rows of the crowd weren’t spare from the sheet of water that rained down on them. Already he could tell the surface of the water was several inches lower than it had been seconds earlier as the new entry settled on the bottom of the pool and stretched out his arms, a dull wail of a yawn accompanying the action.
Scott found himself pleased he’d at least judged the depths right. Snooze could stand up at least, rise on his hind legs and deal out some hurt. Not that the bear would probably enjoy it. Sloth bears weren’t as uncommon as one might think but given the size of them, very few predators thought of attacking them in the wild. Seeing something that spends most of its day sleeping might seem like an opportune snack. When the said beast is bigger than most elephants and weighed twice as much, it feels less like an opportunity and more an act of desperation. That the grey-brown pelt was as hard as iron didn’t really make it sound appetising either. In all the time he’d had Snooze, Scott was more than glad that spirits didn’t have to eat. Paying for enough food to keep him healthy would have bankrupted him completely by now. As it was, the spirit was a handy weapon to keep in reserve for a time like this. A time when he needed something that could give it out as well as take it.
“Okay, what you got,” he mutte
red as the video referee gave them the signal to get the bout restarted. “Come on Bruzack, you’ve got a big enough target here.”
Even if he didn’t hear him, it looked like his opponent apparently agreed as Illic suddenly let loose a blast of electricity through the water, just as Palawi had previously in the bout. The difference being, as Scott had discovered earlier, Snooze wasn’t entirely immune to it and he heard a little moan emerge from his spirit as the shock burst through the water and against the thick hide. Snooze’s ears pricked up off the top of his head and the eyes widened for a moment before the current faded and Scott could see his spirit had shaken it off.
Get in!
Bruzack and Illic weren’t finished as the eel went streaking through the water, Scott felt the surge of glee rush through him. Something as big and bulky as Snooze wasn’t agile enough to trade blows with smaller opponents, but there was one thing that he could do that most others couldn’t.
He wondered exactly when it was that Bruzack realised he’d overreached himself, but he saw the look of dismay on his opponent’s face as the giant shadow towered over Illic and a second great splash was thrown up as Snooze hit the floor of the pool, smashing two platforms aside and Illic was lost beneath the great body.
Scott punched the air as Snooze very slowly rose up off the crater that had formed beneath the great bulk and scratched its haunch. Seconds later, Illic floated up to the surface of the water, the eel resembling a tube of paste that had been stamped on.
All level. Now what could Bruzack do to him now? He could smell victory here now, all he had to do was not make some stupid mistake. Again.
Just keep calm and focused Taylor and you’ll win this. You’ll be into the next round.
The video referee trilled that Illic was unable to continue, as if there was any doubt about that and he watched Bruzack summon the spirit back. That rat face looked impassive for a moment, Scott got the impression he was looking Snooze up and down. He didn’t like that look, it worried him that he might have something to counter the sloth bear. Meh, as long as it wasn’t another sloth bear or a dragon, he wasn’t too worried. So far Bruzack had used an eel and an oversized rat, it didn’t exactly speak of someone adventurous in their choice of captures.
Except those unadventurous choices forced you back into a corner didn’t they Taylor? So, don’t think that this is over yet just because he’s in the same position you were thirty seconds ago. That’s what screwed you over in the first place.
For another ten seconds or so, Bruzack remained motionless before in one swift motion, he drew a crystal from his pocket and locked it into his summoner, sending out his third and final choice for the bout.
It materialised in front of him, standing proud and tall on one of the undamaged platforms and Scott felt a little ‘huh’ of surprise escape him as he studied it. This might make things interesting.
Pete couldn’t believe he’d resorted to doing this as he stared at the screen. But his bout with Sharon was imminent and he needed every little advantage he could get. Scott had said he’d done it before his first bout and he’d won that. What was the harm? Of course, it was a touch embarrassing having to look up your own sister on the system but hey, who would know? Besides, they might be related but it didn’t mean he knew everything about her fighting style.
Until she’d come here and they’d hooked up that first day, she hadn’t even told him she was getting married. That was the depths of their sibling bond in a nutshell. It was the first time he’d seen her in months but at the same time, he was only a quick communication away. Still as he typed the name into the database, he felt a little reassured. There was only so much waiting you could do before you felt it slowly driving you insane. And he needed to do something useful. He’d got his strategies worked out, he had an idea what he was going to do and it was just tailoring it.
The screen changed and he saw Sharon’s picture flash up, one of her looking coy against a grassy background. He wondered who’d taken it briefly, scrolled down past it and momentarily saw his own picture in the Connections section, along with the tab labelled Half Brother beneath it. More prominent was the picture of Nick Roper and the label Fiancé. He recognised his own picture, it had been taken a few months earlier when he’d finished runner up in the Tekari town championship.
Still, back to Sharon… Half-sister of Peter Jacobs, fiancé of Nicholas Roper, daughter of Canderous Arventino… That was a surprise. He’d never really known much about Sharon’s father; she did have eight years of age on him after all. He’d been and gone in that time. Maybe he’d look him up shortly, just out of curiosity. Down into the Known Spirits section, he recognised most of them, Gamorra the shark lizard amongst them. Doubtless he’d have to face that monster at some point, she loved that spirit more than she did most people. Rumour even went that she’d helped Roper get his hands on one. Yeah, nothing new here.
He scrolled down to the biography and suddenly stopped. These things were never entirely accurate, they always embellished or ignored something. He ran his eyes down it, suddenly curious. Okay, that much is true. Early life is true, spent most of her early teenage years babysitting her little brother… Left home at seventeen to become a spirit caller. That was a little weird.
He, like most people he’d known, usually became callers at sixteen. He’d been half her age back then, he didn’t really remember too much but… Yeah, she had been around then. He could remember her arguing with their mother and his father a lot. Why, he couldn’t remember. But with it being over ten years ago, it was hardly likely to matter now. Pushing the puzzle to the back of his mind, he scrolled down again to the bits about her early career and was immediately met with another interesting photo he’d never known about.
The photo was Sharon, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with short cropped blond hair and her summoner around her neck stood wearing a white dress in accompaniment of an older man dressed in a dark blue suit, his eyes dark and his skin tanned. Even on the old picture, the intensity of his stare wasn’t lost. Pete recognised him immediately, the Quin-C was conspicuous by his absence. Because, unless he was mistaken and the next bit of text confirmed he wasn’t, the man was none other than the current champion of the tournament Ruud Baxter. In his hands, he clutched a silver cane and held himself like an aristocrat, his dark hair crammed beneath a jaunty white fedora with black band around it.
On the screen, the text read Sharon Arventino, 18, attends opening ceremony of the Ypres Invitational Tournament with mentor Ruud Baxter, 26.
That his sister had been trained by Baxter came as a surprise to him, this felt like the sort of thing she probably should have mentioned. And yet, this was the first time he’d heard anything of it. He read on, running across a brief article about how both had denied romantic inclinations towards each other, Baxter insisting she was his protégé, Sharon claiming that he was teaching her more than just spirit calling. As to what those other things might be, it didn’t say.
Although it did mention that she’d been given her lucky ankle bracelet by her former mentor. And it had continued between them until the day Sharon turned twenty when the bio claimed the two of them were never seen in public together again, although they did fight several times over the years with Arventino never claiming a victory over her former instructor.
Although it was far from the only notable losses on her record, they were the only ones to which she had failed miserably. She’d lost to perhaps more notorious champions, Terrence Arnholt, Vassily Derenko, Mikael Burke, Wade Wallerington and Brendan King among them as well as Nick Roper, but they’d never been as decisive as her bouts with Baxter. She’d won as many as she’d lost. On the other hand, her victories often were decisive, all the way back to the time she’d announced herself to the five kingdoms by absolutely destroying Luke Maddley to win her first trophy. Maddley hadn’t quite been the same after that, Pete did remember that. He’d declined shortly after the infamous bout and hadn’t been able to keep hold of his position.
Most of the rest of it he knew, it wasn’t really of interest so he scrolled down to the next section on her combat style. This was probably the thing he should have focused on from the start, his thoughts were full of thoughts as to the link between his sister and Ruud Baxter. She’d never tell him, he knew that. And it had been a long time ago. Maybe he should just forget it. It’d probably be for the best.
Fighting style… come on. He read on, taking it in as he did. Sharon Arventino has been known to favour a mix of offensive tactics while relying on defensive solidity to build a platform from which to counter. Like her mentor, Ruud Baxter, she has excellent reactions but goes beyond it with almost an uncanny sense of anticipation as to what will come next.
The excellent reactions thing wasn’t so much a problem, any spirit caller wanting to go beyond decent had to be quite good at reacting to changing situations, but the other part, an anticipation… That didn’t bode well. Maybe he should be unpredictable. Do stuff she wouldn’t expect a sane individual to do. He laughed at that. Maybe. It was something to think about anyway.
“And Bruzack’s final choice is a golem, a surprise selection but if he feels it can get the job done, then let the final bout of the match begin. The stakes are high here, the winner will have one foot in the next round. If Taylor wins, he will qualify, if Bruzack wins, he’ll have to defeat Leslie Graham to advance to the next round and hope that Taylor fails to beat Nicholas Roper.”
Bruzack’s golem wasn’t among the most impressive that he’d ever seen, but even a clumsily erected golem could be a formidable opponent. Proper creators of the creatures could make them look so elegant in their execution. But just because this one looked like a crude metal statue didn’t mean it was any less of a threat. It stood on two stumpy legs, its body a cylindrical boxy shape which tapered up into an oval shaped head. Its face, if it could be called that, was little more than a squat square shaped straight into the steel with four hollowed out dots to make up eyes. Its arms were lumpen and misshapen, each of them ending in hands that held four thick fingers on each one. Until he was proven otherwise, Scott saw that it didn’t look the most mobile of things. But appearances could be deceiving. He was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise.
