The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  Something in his voice must have told Pete that he wasn’t joking, not in the mood for playing about. He followed him, saw the Vazaran kid on the ground first, still breathing but shallow. He smelled like overcooked meat, smoke rising from the charred mess which had been his back not so long ago. Matt Arnholt looked in better shape, he had a welt the size of an egg above one eye, blood running down his face but he’d live.

  “He… He took her,” Matt said. He sounded numb, like he was in shock. “Grabbed her and ran. We fought but he tore through us like we weren’t there.”

  This suddenly had the potential to turn ugly, Nick realised. Uglier than it already was. If they were taking hostages… He needed to get her back. She’d be where Rocastle was. He could kill two birds… Too many had already died here to let her go. And there were plenty who loved her…

  He sighed. If this was how it had to be… He’d been unable to save Sharon. He wasn’t going to let Mia Arnholt die as well, if he could help it. Her loved ones didn’t deserve to feel that sickness crawling up through them the way he had in recent days.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, wishing he was as confident as he sounded. “I’ll take care of it. Get yourselves out of here! Now! Get to safety. Once you get out the stadium, you should be free of the doom dogs.” He pointed to the tag. “You see any bodies, grab these tags and hold them yourselves. You SHOULD be okay with them but keep your wits about you.”

  “Errr… What about Scott?!” Matt asked. “He was here already. Found us before you did, he already went after them both.”

  Nick swore viciously. Little idiot! This was going to be hard enough to do without introducing a have-a-go hero into the mix. It should be left to the professionals. Last thing he needed was his quarry having two hostages in the mix.

  “Fine,” he growled before turning to run for the exit. He was already running through the possibilities in his mind. Like as not, they wouldn’t be going for the aeroport. Flying in would be reckless, the Vazaran military might not be the quickest to mobilise to this, but they surely had to be on their way. Okocha and Noorland had to have already gotten in touch. Which left the docks. A boat could sneak in and out of here, would probably have more chance of leaving undetected by the arriving rescue force.

  Either way, they’d taken a risk, the way he was taking a risk heading for the docks. There was no guarantee they were going to make it out of here unscathed and yet they’d come anyway. There had to be something they were all missing.

  He saw the figure rush in front of him all too late, could only react with evasion rather than complete avoidance and he felt the shots burn through his side. Fire coursed up his body, he let out a yell and emptied the power pack of his rifle straight into the shooter’s face, a rather petulant act but one that felt so good for a tiny moment.

  Couldn’t stop… Won’t stop…

  Running hurt like hells but he wasn’t about to give up. There was too much at stake for that.

  “Want to tell me what the great plan is?” Nkolou asked, following Noorland out to the hoverjet. “You heard Will, this thing doesn’t have any weapons. You can’t shoot it down from here.”

  “I know,” Noorland said. “I just want a…” He almost tripped over the words. “I just want a tactical appraisal of the situation, one gained first hand. You should know this, always trust your eyes over what the machines tell you.”

  “It’s not going to tell you anything different,” Nkolou said gently. “You know that.”

  “No, it’s not going to answer my question,” Noorland insisted, pulling the hatch door open. He was half inside when he felt Nkolou’s hand on his arm, trying to stop him. He gulped. “Please, don’t stop me”

  “What question do you need answering?” she insisted. “Whatever it is, it’s not worth it. You’re hiding something.”

  “That’s not true, Lieutenant Nkolou,” Noorland replied. “Unisco doctrine. First thing they teach you in the academy. It’s always worth it. No matter what it costs, no matter the price you need to pay, it is always worth it. Freedom isn’t free and lives are cheap in these five kingdoms. Somewhere, somehow it never quite adds up to how you want it to.”

  Her eyes widened. “So…”

  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  “Damnit, if you’re going to fly in on some sort of suicide mission, it should be me!” she bellowed. “I’m a better pilot than you. I… I should be the one who dies in a cockpit. I’m more expendable than you.”

  Noorland shook his head. “No, you really aren’t. You don’t want to die. I’ve already made my peace with this. It’s happening. If I can make it a little bit safer, give my life so that others can live, it’s a good way to go.”

  “I won’t let you…” Nkolou started to say before Noorland’s fist flashed out, caught her a glancing blow across the side of the mouth and dropped her to the ground. She tried to spring up, he caught her kick and twisted her back down unceremoniously.

  “You can’t win,” he said. “Just…” She tried again, he snapped out his hand in a chopping motion, caught her by the neck and squeezed, applying pressure to various spots… There! She dropped like a sack of potatoes, not permanently harmed but down for the moment. “… Stay down.”

  It wasn’t even like she was unconscious. Just momentarily unable to move. He saw the anger in her eyes, tried not to look as he scooped her up and placed her out the way. Alvin Noorland didn’t look back as he made his way back to the cockpit of the hoverjet. This was the way it had to be.

  He’d been right!

  There!

  Nick could see them all, a boat far down below, fast bastard by the looks of it and there were some humanoid shapes by it, too distant to make them out entirely. He picked up his pace, every step burning fresh in his side and as much as he tried to ignore it, shut it out, each second it became harder. He took the hundred and three steps two at a time, trying not to think about what would happen if he missed a step or tripped. Halfway down, he looked up, saw the distinctive blue jacket that Scott Taylor had worn during the bout on one of the figures…

  Come on!

  He forced himself to pick up the pace, working as hard as he physically could to get there, jumping the last three steps. Landing brought fresh new agony to him, he had to fight to stay on his feet and keep on going. The docks were close now, he could see them all, Taylor and… Rocastle! Coppinger was nowhere to be seen for the moment but he could see Arnholt’s daughter as well. He could see her being held by a seven-foot-tall troll who had a big fat arm around her neck. It looked ready to squeeze at any given moment, he got close enough and he could hear the conversation.

  “Let her go!” Scott was pleading. “Or…”

  The look on Rocastle’s face bore full testament to sadism, ghoulish and gloating at the same time. “Or what, lamb chop? You come any closer and I’ll see her snapped like a twig. She…”

  Nick slowed to a walk, took the three steps up to the dock very deliberately and strolled out into view, Arnholt’s X7 pointed at the fat man.

  “Or we could play this another way,” Nick said, his voice full of authority. “Let her go, Harvey. You’re under arrest for conspiracy to murder, conspiracy to treason, kidnap, resisting arrest, attempted murder at the very least of Prideaux Khan, Brendan King and Terrence Arnholt as well as the actual murder of Carlton Bond. If you go quietly now, they might not give you the chair. If you don’t, I’ll put you down like the mad dog you are!”

  Other than the sob let out by the stricken-looking Mia when he named her father, the silence was deafening. Rocastle even looked to be chewing it over for a moment until his face broke into a grin.

  “Mad dog?” he said. “I like that. I like that a lot. Think I might get it in tattoo form. The question is, what are you going to do if I refuse? You shoot me, my cool Cacalti will kill that cunt right there, probably the boy…” Scott glowered at that. “… And maybe even you. You’re not fast enough to save them all.” His face split o
pen malevolently into a grin. “Just like you couldn’t save your own woman!”

  He nearly pulled the trigger right there and then, was mentally preparing for the sight of seeing his head snap back with a hole in the middle, a red third eye... Still Nick refrained. Just. Just. It’d have been so easy…

  “She didn’t die well, you know,” Rocastle continued. “It was heart-breaking. Well if you care about that sort of stuff anyway. She cried your name. Wanted to know where you were. And you weren’t there!” The last few words had a definite note of sing-song in them and Nick struggled to keep his finger off the trigger. He should pull it, he’d been given the order to and yet he couldn’t. Rocastle was right. He wasn’t about to let more people die here just yet. Even though he knew full well Rocastle deserved shooting in the back of the head and letting the ocean take care of the body.

  He must have seen the twitch in his finger, the brazen amount of self-restraint because the fat fuck kept on laughing. “I don’t care about that,” he said stiffly.

  “Sure, you do. You wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Rocastle giggled. “It’s personal. Just like between me…” He jabbed a porky finger into his own chest, one of his good ones Nick noticed. Not the fake ones, he wondered what the story was behind that. One of them fake ones screwed into Mia’s cheek, making her squirm. “… and this bitch.”

  “Seriously what the hells did she do to you?!” Scott yelled. Nick grimaced. Shut the hells up, keep out of this. Don’t antagonise him!

  Rocastle only laughed. “Private, private. I’d have thought she’d have told you. Guess the budding relationship still has its secrets. You’ll never ever get to know…”

  Nick cast a glance over to the troll… No good there. It’d take a high-powered shot to get through its thick skull, more than a single X7 blast. Plus, their brains were naturally quite small, it’d be hard to guarantee a hit even if he could punch through with a lucky shot. He doubted it’d stand there motionless and let him shoot it in the head without some sort of reaction. His side was starting to burn, his legs aching from the run. If he was going to do something, he needed to do it now.

  “So, who cut your hand up then?” he asked. “That looks like it hurt.”

  No response. Rocastle narrowed his eyes at him for a moment. “More than you can imagine.”

  “No. I really doubt that,” Nick said, his voice quiet. Thanks to you, I’m no stranger to anguish and pain. Maybe he should just do it. Put him down and to hells with Arnholt’s daughter. But then he could imagine the director’s face if he lived through his own injuries, not a guarantee itself. He’d be devastated. There’d already been too much of that.

  Although, there might be another way…

  When a spirit’s owner was killed in battle, the first thing an enraged spirit did was revenge itself upon all closest enemies. Having shared a consciousness with the deceased, it would be aware who that was. Cacalti would probably go through Mia, likely through Scott and even to Nick if he shot him. On the other hand, though…

  Nick lowered his weapon and smiled sweetly. The pain in his side was forgotten, he felt the adrenaline flood his system. He was going to enjoy this.

  “Let me introduce you to the encore,” he said. “You think you know pain? Not even close.”

  He moved, darted the short distance between the two of them, saw the realisation in Rocastle’s eyes and almost walked into the first punch. Nick ducked underneath it, tackled him with full force and caught an instinctive knee in the gut for his trouble. He might have been fat but there was some muscle there as well, it was like hitting a side of beef. Pushing him back, he threw out a fist of his own, caught him on the jaw and Rocastle howled with pain as something cracked. With murder in his eyes, the fat man came back, spat out a tooth and went on the offensive, slow deliberate punches that held power but lacked precision.

  Nick blocked the first two, span around and kicked him in his standing calf, buckling him down to his knees. The momentum of his swing took him the rest of the way, suddenly down on his belly and he had to roll out the way as Nick moved, trying to stamp down on his spine. Suddenly the fat man was in motion, his legs sweeping Nick’s out from underneath him. Nick hit the dock with a grunt, bounced his head off it. Vision swimming for a moment, he caught a kick on his injured side and bellowed in pain. Giggling manically at the result of his blow, Rocastle brought his leg back again, winding powerfully up.

  This time Nick managed to roll and catch it both handed, twisting his ankle around hard and simultaneously kicking out into the standing leg. He heard the vicious twin snaps of breaking bones and Rocastle went down screaming. He wasn’t getting back up from that. His leg almost at a right angle, he tried to stand up on one leg and failed miserably, Nick got to his feet and kicked out again, three, four, five times to the face, each of them a satisfying crunch and then rolled up into a standing position. He saw the pleading in the fat man’s eyes amidst the blood and the bruises before he put his foot on his throat and started to apply pressure. It didn’t take long for his face to change colour, Rocastle’s breathing coming out harder and harder, his hands beating weakly against Nick’s leg as he tried to get free and failed miserably.

  Come on… Come on…

  It was with a huge bellow that the troll suddenly rose to its full height, tossed Mia aside and charged towards him, murder in its eyes. He’d had the desired effect.

  Gotcha!

  Nick barely had time to go for his summoner, didn’t register the splash in the ocean as he jumped off Rocastle and barely evaded the charging troll. Empson appeared, flexed his wings and suddenly the two spirits were at it as well, penguin versus troll. He did notice Scott charge past him though, straight into the ocean and he stiffened.

  Whoops!

  Not what he’d had planned. Couldn’t account for everything, but he’d partly succeeded. He’d gotten her away from this psycho at least. If she didn’t drown, it was a job well done.

  The salty water burned his eyes, threatened to stifle his lungs and made him want to retch but Scott tried to push it all out of his mind as he pushed down through the murky depths of the ocean. It couldn’t be that deep here, surely. She couldn’t have gone far…

  There. Drifting. Not moving on her own, just sinking and moving further and further away from him. He cursed mentally, kicked his legs and went after her. He wasn’t about to let her go. Not just yet. Not like this. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  He needed to breathe, stupid, stupid, he hadn’t thought this through properly and they might both drown for it. The harder he pushed, the faster he’d run out of air… That didn’t deter him, he forced himself to go, reaching out helplessly for her with his hand. Just… too… far away.

  She twitched, whether a current had caught her or she was coming around for sure, or someone divine loved him, Scott couldn’t say. But as he felt her hand in his, he didn’t question it, pulled her closer to him and wrapped his arm around her body. Her eyes weren’t open, he kicked his legs and started the short climb back to the surface. With her dead weight… an unfortunate choice of term… it took twice as much effort. When the first breath unconsciously escaped from him, he inhaled ocean water and began to splutter, almost lost his focus. Almost.

  Just a little higher…

  As he broke above the surface, he heard that shriek again, the same as he’d heard at the stadium. Deep breath, he forced himself back under again. He knew what it meant and he didn’t want either of them to be a target. Scott forced his mouth to Mia’s, let some of his air into her mouth. Hopefully, it’d be enough.

  Nick couldn’t believe it, he snapped his pistol up and started to fire. Some of them landed but either the lizard-bird’s skin was too thick to be affected or he’d misjudged and missed. One of the two. He couldn’t let them get away. Not now. Empson had gone down from the shriek. Be interesting to know the properties behind that bit of power. And Claudia had swooped down on her mount, he’d gone for the weapon when he’d seen her creature scoop
Rocastle by the legs up in its talons. In the distance, he could see aeroships incoming, if they’d just be a little faster than they could corner her here. It’d all be over.

  He emptied the power pack, must have hit something but no good. Claudia only smiled sweetly at him, the sort of sweetness that turns sugar to bile in the stomach. At least one shot had been bang on her, he could see the rip in her jacket where it had landed and yet she didn’t appear even slightly hurt by the blasts.

  “Oh, hard luck, Nicholas,” she said. “I’d deal with you right now, but time does press. Even for me. You’ll get your turn though. Don’t despair of that.” She waved playfully. “Farewell.”

  And they were gone, the spirit taking wing and accelerating off into the distance. By the time the aerofighters caught up, it’d be too late. Hells, even by the time he’d found Carcer’s container crystal, they were already nearly out of sight.

  Nick swore in anger, dropped down to the deck, the fatigue catching up with him suddenly. That was before the two heads broke the surface and he moved again, moving over to throw them a hover ring. They’d been an upgrade on the old life ring, they held a highly-concentrated burst of superheated oxygen that created a brief hovering effect, enough to get them out of the ocean.

  As the two of them landed on the dock, Nick shut his eyes and grimaced. Judging by the state of Arnholt’s daughter, it didn’t look good. Scott crawled onto all fours, choking and retching but he’d be fine. He didn’t hesitate, went to apply mouth to mouth resuscitation. She wasn’t moving, her skin was freezing cold. Four breaths in, thirty chest pumps in.

  You’re not fucking dying today, you little bitch! Come on, you best fight this!

  Harder and harder Scott pumped, Nick only watched, not much more he could do for her. The technique was decent, most spirit callers did know rudimentary first aid techniques just in case the worst happened while they were out in the wild and he had a horrible feeling about the way this might end. Saltwater streamed down Scott’s face, his own breath coming out ragged as he continued to work away, almost as if he hoped he could bring her back by force of will alone. His hands continued to work away, against her chest, his face contorted in determination. For a moment, his eyes shone blue and Nick wasn’t entirely sure he’d seen it and the younger caller let out a guttural bellow of something primal, as much frustration as anything.