The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  “What of it,” she demanded. “I think the important thing is we came. Who are you rooting for here?” Down on the battlefield, the frog dodged another blast of fire, this one a lot less accurate than the previous one had been.

  Glancing back to the field, Pete wondered if Sangare’s vision had been damaged by that first blast. There definitely looked to be something off there, the fire was being thrown around indiscriminately without a care for what was burned. The ice on the battlefield was almost exclusively a giant puddle of slushy water now, every motion sent ripples through it. If Scott had any gumption about him and if Sangare had been left blinded, then he’d be listening out for that. Whatever it was, he couldn’t see the frog winning through this. Sangare was powerful and all it needed was one solid hit to roast it where it stood.

  “You know what I don’t understand,” Matt said. “If he’s had that dragon all the time, why the hells didn’t he use it earlier in the tournament like when he was getting his ass handed to him by Bruzack?”

  Pete shrugged. “You’d have to ask him. Best guess, battlefield wasn’t conducive to it.” The frog leaped, flexed both claws out in front of it and dived under another gout of fire being thrown in its general direction, poison dripping from the lengths of bone. How sharp they were, he couldn’t say. Dragon scale was incredibly tough though, it was unlikely it would get through…

  They didn’t come close to landing. A giant clawed foreleg from Sangare came crashing out of nowhere and swiped into the frog, almost ripping it into two. The audience erupted into a massive cheer as it was thrown clear of the battlefield and hit the advertising hoardings with a thud, blood everywhere. Sangare didn’t look good. But it was a win and Scott looked pleased with himself about that.

  “Damn,” Matt said. “Roper’s getting his ass kicked. Is he actually taking this bout seriously?” Around them, the announcer was asking the same question, bringing into doubt whether Roper was deliberately showing little concern to the outcome of the battle. He’d already qualified after all.

  “Come on Scott,” Mia said, adjusting her shirt over her breasts. Rolling his eyes, Pete wondered if that was for the chance to get in a wide angled shot of the crowd by the videocams filming the bout. It was admittedly an impressive chest. How Scott already wasn’t trying to make his way onto her, he didn’t know.

  Idiot!

  Roper’s final choice was a giant penguin, the appearance of which made Pete burst into laughter.

  “Seriously, come on! That’s ridiculous. We’ve got a dragon versus a giant overweight bird that couldn’t fly if you chucked it off a building. What do they think is going to happen here?” He cleared his throat suddenly and tried to regain some composure. It doubtless wasn’t that simple and he didn’t want to look like an idiot should the unlikely happen.

  In about thirty seconds, the unlikely had happened. Where the frog’s claws likely wouldn’t have been able to cut through dragon skin, the sharpened edges of the penguin’s flippers didn’t have any such trouble.

  The first swipe went through the same foreleg that had defeated the frog, breaking the skin and separating bone with apparent ease. As rich dark dragon blood sprayed around the arena, Sangare let out a frenzied bellow and spat white hot fire towards the penguin who sprang up into the air to evade the blast, retaliating with a crashing blast of water from its beak into Sangare’s face. As the dragon recoiled, it was like seeing it in slow motion as the penguin spun around gracefully in the air, flippers extended out like sabres as it aimed for the neck.

  As much as he wanted his friend to win, Pete had to admit he was never going to forget the look on Scott’s face, magnified fifty times on the giant video screen, as Sangare’s head fell to the ice with a decisive thud. The horror and the shock there was a sight he’d never seen before and never expected to again.

  “Divines!” Mia exclaimed. “What just happened?”

  Pete couldn’t answer her, just stared open mouthed in shock. To his credit, Scott looked like he was quickly pushing the shock away, he brought back the defeated Sangare and sent in his second spirit. Pete knew this one, Becko the leaf lizard dropped to all fours and hissed angrily, the forked tongue flickering angrily out of his jaws. Plant-like tufts of hair hung down from Becko’s neck, bony blade-like appendages protruding the length of the forearms while the tail thunked to the ground, trailing through the slush.

  “He’s going for power,” Pete said. “Maybe this was his plan all along. Go toe to toe and save his strongest in reserve for the final match. Try to get Roper to underestimate his strength.”

  “Risky” Matt mused, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. “Very risky I’d say. If his strength isn’t enough, then what does he have?”

  “Come on Scott!” Mia yelled, struggling to make herself heard above the thrum of the anticipation throbbing around the crowd. Already they were underway and the two spirits were duelling, flippers versus elbow blades clashed back and forth in a manner almost clumsily graceful yet they kept each other at bay, eyes going back and forth as they struck and struck again, some blows landing on the other but neither getting the opening to do some telling damage, the two of them just too evenly matched in their skill with the blades.

  All until the penguin went in with its beak, a swift jab thrusting into Becko’s throat when the blades were down and the lizard staggered back in shock, the scales not quite broken but he was hurting. Clawed standing legs slipped on the slush, unable to get any sort of grip, and Becko had to steady itself with a foreleg to the ground, claws digging into unsteady ice.

  Roper didn’t let up, his spirit opened its beak and struck out with another powerful torrent of water straight to the face, the force enough to hurl Becko back several feet, any minimal purchase on the ground lost beyond the blast. Empson… Somewhere amidst the chaos that was going on down below, Pete had heard the penguin’s name was Empson… went for the killing blow, both flippers shimmering as they came driving down towards the struggling Becko. The lizard’s arm blades came up, a weak attempt to block and with a ferocious crack they were cleaved asunder and Becko let out a shriek of pain.

  Just as Sangare had minutes earlier, the head soon separated from the body and Empson let out a proudly defiant squawk, shaking its body free of the sticky scarlet that had clung to ice blue feathers.

  Pete hadn’t guessed it was possible for the people around him to look any more shocked than they had done and yet they were. Murmurs were already flooding around about a Roper comeback victory and right there and then he would have hesitated to back his friend for a victory. He’d gone from a good position to a terrible one in the space of minutes. Because it had been minutes, it had felt like seconds but time could be deceptive during heated battles.

  Scott’s final choice was Palawi and inwardly he blanched. Becko and Sangare were probably two of Scott’s strongest spirits and they’d both been cast aside easily by the monstrous penguin. What chance did Palawi have was a question that might have been asked by someone who didn’t know either of them that well. Yet at the same time Palawi had gotten Scott out of some trouble in the past. He’d thrown the dice and he’d live or die by the decision.

  Over the tannoy, the announcer told the crowd that Leslie Graham had beaten Santo Bruzack, meaning that as it stood Scott, Bruzack and Graham were tied on three points in the group. If Scott could get even just a point, he’d be through and all of this would go down as a happy memory. Empson wasn’t unscathed but there was still some work to be done. And he’d need to work hard for it. Very hard.

  Scott ground his teeth together and tried to avoid clenching his fists. He couldn’t let his opponent realise just how much he had gotten to him right now. He’d been so far ahead and now…

  And now he still had a chance. He hadn’t been defeated and he might not be if he kept his head together. If he collapsed mentally, he would be. He couldn’t let that happen. It’d be an insult to Sangare and Becko who’d been horribly beaten to reach this point and let it slide. Wh
ich meant it was all up to Palawi, the dog shaking himself off in the ice slush with a dopey look. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and the crowd let out a collective sound of appreciation as he sat down and scratched an ear with a back leg. Even Roper smiled and Scott wondered what his chances were of the other caller underestimating him once more. If he could achieve that, then it might be a very different bout to what it had quickly turned into.

  “Come on, Pal,” he said. “We have to do this. Don’t let me down now.” It sounded almost like a plea as opposed to a driving challenge and he knew it. Worse, he had a suspicion Roper knew it as well. The video referee sounded off and he knew it was now or never.

  Roper and Empson didn’t wait, the penguin shot forward across the ice, flippers out like swords ready to impale Palawi. Mentally Scott barked out a command and Palawi spun to the side, sliding less than gracefully across the ice, claws skittering but remaining steady. The moment Empson went past, electricity rose across Palawi’s fur and caught the giant bird in the back, bringing a squawk of pain out. Empson turned quickly, spat a blast of water away in Palawi’s direction. It landed, catching the hound in the face with a snap but he’d seen him get hit harder. Palawi shook it off, spraying droplets everywhere before charging in with teeth bared. Empson struck out with a flipper, Scott suddenly regretted the attack. If one of those razor-sharp flippers landed, it’d be all over. He’d seen that enough already. Regret turned to relief as Palawi ducked underneath, evading neatly and landing a flurry of bites into Empson’s stomach, only to get kicked in the face with a clawed foot, talons gouging into fur and Scott urged another blast of electricity.

  As it coursed through Empson, he felt the confidence rushing through him. Nothing could take too many high voltage strikes. That might have been his mistake with Becko, he’d fought the penguin on its own terms. If he had to hit and run now, fight dirty, then that was what he’d do. Empson looked like it was struggling, those blasts were potent and Scott knew what electricity could do to an opponent. They circled each other warily and he blinked first, ordering another electric attack. He could smell victory; it was almost in his sight as the lightning tore through the air towards Empson…

  The fucking penguin caught it on the razor-sharp edges of the flippers, squawking furiously as the current ran over the edges, crackling violently with brilliant shades of white and blue. Scott felt his eyes widen in shock as he urged Palawi to keep up the voltage while at the same time Empson took a step forward on the ice, pushing on towards the hound.

  Shit! That’s impossible, right?

  Apparently not, each step looked like it was taking more and more effort but slowly Empson was approaching Palawi. Six feet away. Five. Four. Three. Flippers length. Palawi tensed up, still driving electricity towards the giant bird, too focused to move.

  Full power! Scott silently urged. Come on, put it down before it…

  With a supreme effort, Empson pushed out the supercharged flippers into Palawi, the electricity blasted back straight into the source and he just had time to see the dog’s eyes widen as there was a terrific crash of electrical energy, enough to hurl the two of them apart. Scott caught the odour of burning and was immediately terrified, not just for his tournament hopes but genuinely for Palawi. He and that hound had been through a lot and…

  Yeah, Palawi wasn’t getting up. He was down, defeated, no chance of continuing. Half his fur had been burnt clean off but he wasn’t in any pain. He felt his heart fall until he saw Empson down and dead as well and he felt himself suddenly caught up in the emotion of the cheering of the crowd as he jumped up and punched the air, Roper already striding onto the field to shake his hand.

  He’d thought his earlier victory over Leslie Graham was a sweet feeling. Yet this felt even sweeter, a feeling he was going to savour for a very long time…

  The fourth day of Summerpeak.

  “Man, I can’t believe the group stage is over,” Matt said, laid out on the grass with his head rested on his arms, his legs bent at the knees. He’d rested a can of juice on one of his knees and watched it warily in case it should fall. “Seems like we’ve been here for ages, right?”

  Scott didn’t say anything. Neither did Pete. Mia nodded in agreement, sat on the grass at the base of the bench, hugging her legs to her. Scott glanced at her. Pete glanced at Scott.

  “And we’re only like five or six matches from winning it now,” Max continued. “I mean how cool is that? Just think. A handful of wins and we’re there. I can’t wait for the draw; I want to see who I get in the next round.” He laughed. “Hey, maybe it’ll be one of you guys.”

  “Could be,” Pete finally said. “It probably won’t be though. The chances aren’t great I think. One in forty-nine or something, I think.”

  “What about you, Scott?” Matt said, turning his attention to him. “Who do you want in the next round?”

  “I’ll just be happy with someone who I can beat,” Scott said quietly. “Hopefully the really tough callers get drawn against each other and the competition gets thinned out a bit. It’s been known to happen.”

  “There’s nobody bad at this stage though,” Pete said. “This is where shit gets serious. Pull it together or go home.”

  “I’m sure one of you will do it,” Mia offered, glancing around to look at Scott and Pete, and then to her brother. “At least, I’m sure one of you will at least get to the semi-finals.”

  “Screw the semi-finals,” Scott said, shifting in his seat, adjusting his legs for comfort. “I want to win it. Nobody remembers the semi-finalists.” Again, Mia turned to regard him, a small smile playing across her lips.

  “I think I’d remember if you did it,” she said. “Because I was here.” She adjusted herself to let the back of her head rest against his leg. He raised an eyebrow at the movement, glanced over to Pete. Pete glanced back in bemusement. Scott jerked his head down towards where she was relaxed and gave him his own bemused look. Pete glanced down, saw it and smirked, mouthing the words ‘get in’ at him. Scott shrugged. Neither of them noticed the surprised look Matt was wearing as he noticed the two of them have their silent exchange. “Here and loving it,” an oblivious Mia continued. Scott shook his head at Pete who grinned.

  “So, Mia,” Pete said in an oily tone. One that put Scott’s back up immediately. “Are you going to the dance tonight?” Scott glared at him, he saw Pete grin and crane his head away to the side to avoid meeting his eyes.

  Mia didn’t move, just closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. “I am. Are you?” He could hear the amused tone in her voice, could sense it was almost contemptuous.

  “Might give it a go,” he said. “Because if you were…”

  Mysteriously, Scott found himself victim to a coughing fit right at that moment and Pete grinned. Don’t say I never do you any favours, buddy, his face said. If he was honest, Pete didn’t find Mia attractive. Well, that wasn’t right. He found her attractive but he didn’t want to sleep with her. Okay that wasn’t right either. He would have slept with her but she wasn’t his type. But she looked to genuinely have a thing for Scott. If he was some hot shit high flying famous spirit caller, then he might have understood it. Women liked that. And yet he wasn’t and she did. He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  “Miayouwannagowithme?” Scott said suddenly and Pete fought the urge to laugh at the way it had fallen from his mouth. He genuinely looked uncomfortable and he had to admit that was something he could enjoy. As uncomfortable as Scott looked, it couldn’t quite compare to the smile that appeared on Mia’s face, a mix of delight and surprise.

  Matt on the other hand looked a little annoyed and Pete could empathise a little. He hadn’t considered this. Because nobody liked hearing their older sister get hit on.

  Still, despite her delight, it appeared her playful side shone through as she turned her head and shot him a grin.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she said mischievously. “What did you say?”

  Scott went a shade of red visible
even against the contrast of his dark skin. He looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue and Pete gave him a reassuring nod. At least he hoped it looked that way.

  “Mia Arnholt,” Scott said slowly and looking like he wished he was elsewhere. Pete supposed he couldn’t blame him for being uncomfortable. “You want to go to that dance with me?”

  Her smile only grew and she winked at him playfully. His blush deepened and Pete fought the urge to smirk. It wouldn’t do Scott’s confidence any favours here. Normally he was full of bravado and bluster on the surface but you’d never have guessed it seeing him here.

  Seeing her making a show of mock-consideration, he suddenly hoped he’d done the right thing pushing Scott into it. If she said no now… Scratch that thought, it’d be hilarious.

  “I suppose,” she said slowly. “Yes. Yes, of course I will. Took you long enough to ask me.” Said with a smile, it sounded almost cute and he could see the sigh of relief slip from his best buddy. Pete smiled to himself. Things might be looking up here. Now he just needed someone to go with himself and it’d be a raving success.

  It hadn’t been easy to acquire but Max felt the weight of the A-33 at the base of his back and he felt comforted by it. By modern standards, the weapon was an antique. There were better blasters available in museums. But it had enough shots left to make it useable and in the absence of something better, it would have to do. Mr R had been disturbingly cheerful in the last day or so and that only meant one thing.

  The only time he’d seen him in this good a mood had been the night of the storm. He’d been confused, locked in the room and Mr R had gone out whistling like he hadn’t a care in the world. When he’d returned, he’d been in a foul mood, they’d had to repair the closet door the next morning and he’d been warned about his conduct while staying on the premises. Worse for Max, he’d been the one who’d had to bandage up Mr R’s knuckles.