The Game Masters of Garden Place

by Denis Markell

  “Mr. Wycroft, please!”

  “Ah yes. The world. When someone played the Seven Serpents story, it actually called the characters you created to Demos, and they existed there to find and bring together the pieces of the scepter. The poor people of Demos were cursed to repeat the same days over and over again, until someone as clever as young Phoebe here found the answer to my little puzzle.”

  Persephone was so enrapt, she didn’t even correct him.

  “As each new group of adventurers joined the game, they would sometimes run across other searchers, depending on the story their GM told,” Warwick continued.

  “Yes, I think that happened to us,” Ralph said, thinking back to the nasty group they had encountered in BlackBriar, during Jojo’s adventure.

  “But that’s all over now, thanks to you,” Warwick said. “And to you,” he called out to the adventurers, who were still busy eating. It seemed that as long as there was food in front of them, they were happy.

  Warwick pushed away from the table and wiped his mouth on a napkin. Jojo watched as Jandia, who had been busy licking her fingers, noticed this. Jandia carefully wiped her mouth on the tablecloth. Well, it was a start.

  Warwick stood up. “I think we know what happened next. And now the story can finally come to its proper ending.”

  He swept out of the restaurant, and the others followed.

  The group crossed the long six-lane street of Boerum Place, and Warwick headed to a modest park. There were small groves of trees surrounding a large playing field, where families and children with babysitters were playing Frisbee and soccer.

  The old man led them past the field to a clearing between two groups of trees. It was deserted for the moment.

  He held out his hand. “It is time to reunite the scepter. Please present the six serpents, one by one.”

  Gerontius bowed. “We must counsel first. I am sure you understand.”

  “Do as you must,” said Wycroft.

  Torgrim stroked his beard furiously as they stepped away. “The scepter holds too much power. I’m not sure about this.”

  Mirak nodded. “For once, I agree with our cleric. How do we know that this is all true?”

  Gerontius looked at Wycroft. “I think he does not lie. There is honor in him.”

  Bram spoke up. “Let us presume that all he says is right. Do we not deserve some sort of reward? Or perhaps we could keep the scepter for ourselves.”

  “I can kill them both if you like,” Jandia said happily.

  “No!” said Ralph. “You have to give him the serpents.”

  The adventurers turned to him and stared.

  “You have certain wisdom for one so young, but you also have much to learn about the world,” Torgrim said.

  “We have a lot to learn?” said Jojo in exasperation. “Warwick may have created the scepter, but we created you, remember?”

  That stopped the adventurers cold. They looked at one another, unsure of what to do.

  Cammi went up to Gerontius and pulled at his robe. “Please. This is the way to get back to your world.”

  Gerontius nodded. He turned to Warwick. “We will do as you say. On the condition you send us back to our world.”

  “I will not send you back,” Wycroft said.

  Jandia let out a low growl and pulled out her sword.

  “Sheathe your weapon,” chuckled Wycroft. “I did not finish. I will not send you back. I will take you back.”

  “But you’re banished!” said Ralph. “Aren’t you?”

  “I am old and can protect the scepter no more. Now that you have so bravely collected the serpents, I have pledged to the Old Ones to destroy it, and thus the banishment will be lifted. I will end my days as the Mage of Athanos.”

  Andy brightened. “And I will come too?”

  Warwick shook his head. “No, Andy. You are cursed to live out your life here on your home world, a common man as well.”

  Andy’s face fell. “But…that’s not fair….”

  Noel snorted. “Dude, you tried to kill us with that Komach’Kreel and grasp ultimate power. Just be glad your dad doesn’t, like, turn you into stone or something.”

  “Well said!” proclaimed Bram.

  Warwick reached out his hand once again. “And now the time has come.”

  Gerontius stepped forward and took the first scepter from the sleeve of his robe. “The Iron Serpent, from the dungeon of Fahrenthold.”

  Torgrim reached into his chain mail and took out the second, which was hanging from a cord around his neck. “The Silver Serpent, from the Dragon Girl of Draakland.”

  Bram removed another from his boot. “And here is the Crystal Serpent, from the wand of the wizard Ragus of Kendzion.”

  Gerontius took the other from the spine of his spellbook. He looked at Cammi as he said, “And here is the Wooden Serpent from the Tree of Swords of Zwaardwood.”

  Jandia knelt down and pulled the fifth from her leather leg protector. “The Jade Serpent, from the mayor of the false village of Waterspout-on-Nyfitsa.”

  Mirak stepped forward. She shared a smile with Persephone as she undid her harp. There, in a hollowed area under the tuning pegs, was nestled the Bone Serpent.

  “And here is the Serpent of Bone, the true serpent, won from Minstrel Chioni on the snowbound isle of Nivis,” she said, and handed it to Wycroft.

  The six serpents shimmered in the sunlight as a light wind began to whirl the leaves around them.

  “The serpents wish to join together,” Wycroft said. “It is time to say your farewells.”

  Persephone put her arms around Mirak, who stroked her hair. “Never forget there is great music in you,” she whispered into the girl’s ear.

  “Are you kidding?” said Persephone. “I live to sing. I mean, singing is my life.”

  “It is also a gift to give others,” said Mirak.

  Noel turned to Bram; they had both overheard this. “Great,” said Noel, “now we’ll never get her to shut up.”

  Bram regarded Noel and thought for a moment. “You are a good, honest young man, you know?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” said Noel. “Is that bad?”

  “Well, it doesn’t make for a good rogue, that’s for certain,” admitted Bram. “And perhaps you needn’t be quite so honest all the time.”

  “I don’t understand,” Noel said. “Why would I lie?”

  “To spare someone’s feelings, I suppose,” said Bram. “But that’s for you to decide, my lad.”

  Jandia was standing uncomfortably with Jojo, whose chin was quivering. The barbarian peered at her. “Are you going to cry? A warrior does not cry.”

  “I don’t want to,” Jojo said, her voice cracking. “It’s just that…I really liked hanging out with you.”

  Jandia looked away. “But this is weakness! When my family was slain, I did not cry. I swore an oath to drink the blood of my enemies.”

  Jojo wiped her face with her sleeve. “Well, that’s great for you. I’m not a warrior. I’m a kid. And I’m sad that you’re going. I’m sorry!”

  Jandia looked at her for a moment. The ends of her mouth turned down. “Waaaah!” she wailed, and hugged Jojo.

  “You’re crushing me,” Jojo said in a small voice.

  “I am sorry,” said Jandia, wiping away her tears. “I am done. We shall never speak of this.”

  “That’s cool,” Jojo said.

  Gerontius pulled his robes around Cammi, who was hunched over. The wizard brought his head close to Cammi’s and gazed at him. “I sense you hold great secrets inside you,” he said quietly.

  Cammi said nothing, but nodded.

  “I know something of this, and please hear me. You are a beautiful and perfect person.”

  Cammi shook his head.

  “Heed my words, hu
man child,” Gerontius persisted. “You need not fear anyone. You can do great things. And you will.”

  Cammi looked up, deep into the gray eyes of the elf wizard. “I wish I felt that way,” he finally said.

  “With time, you will,” Gerontius said, smiling. “And if others do not see it, you will learn to laugh at them or fight them with your wit and your gifts.”

  Cammi shook his head again. “I want to go with you.”

  “Your place is here in this world. You will find it, Cammi. That is your destiny.”

  Torgrim was standing apart, with Ralph. “There is something heavy on your heart.”

  Ralph had been watching the others. Then he turned to Torgrim. “They say they no longer want to play the game,” he said, looking at the ground. “What will become of you?”

  “We will be whatever our fates have planned for us,” Torgrim said simply. “Perhaps it is those dice that control them, or perhaps there is more in our world than can be contained in a simple game of children.”

  “I can’t stand the thought of you just disappearing,” Ralph said. “We’ve been together for years. How can they simply walk away?”

  “There is a time for all things, life and death, and we cannot control them.” Torgrim reached out and rested his hands on Ralph’s shoulders. He pulled him in. “Young Arpy, take hold of the sacred amulet.”

  Ralph didn’t want to do this, but it wasn’t really a request. More like an order. He felt compelled to do as Torgrim said. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the rude stone carved with ancient symbols. He could feel something coursing through him as he held it. It was healing something deeper than his arm. He felt at peace. Whatever would happen, would happen.

  They turned to Warwick, who intoned, “Let those who would travel with me clasp hands and form a circle.”

  The kids stepped aside to let the adventurers join the old mage.

  He lowered his head and began to recite an ancient spell. As he did, the serpents on the ground raised themselves, and as though invisible hands were solving an intricate puzzle, they fit themselves together, each linking with the others, forming a dazzling scepter. Finally, as the scepter raised itself to waist level, Wycroft reached into his pocket and took out the golden die, which shimmered in his hands, softening and melting as he formed it into a long, snakelike shape. When he was done, it leapt from his hands with a hiss and wrapped itself around the other six. The ground began to shake, and then everyone felt the familiar vibrations.

  Suddenly, there was a strangled cry from Andy. “I will not be left behind!” he cried, and tried to break into the circle.

  Wycroft sighed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Andy. I do wish you’d stop this foolishness.” He waved his hands, and again Andy fell to the ground, senseless.

  “When he wakes, tell him his father loves him and to be a good boy,” Wycroft called out over the whipping sounds of the portal opening into the other world, the world of magic and spells and adventures Ralph loved so much.

  And then they were gone.

  Jojo looked down at Andy.

  “So who’s going to tell him?”

  Nobody said anything.

  “How about we just leave him a note?” suggested Noel, taking a pad of paper and a pen from his pocket.

  “Sounds good to me,” said Ralph.

  There was no argument.

  The kids still had the key cards, so they were able to collect their belongings from the hotel room. There was just enough money to leave a big tip for whoever would be cleaning up the mess left by their friends.

  They walked out, taking turns pushing and pulling the dolly and the other stuff they’d borrowed from Ralph’s parents. His friends decided to wait outside as he rang the bell.

  As Ralph expected, his parents were not amused or understanding when he told them he’d used their equipment for a school science project. He had to endure a lecture about being respectful of other people’s property and how would he like it if they took his stuff, like his laptop, for a week or two. The argument that they had missed his birthday didn’t get a lot of traction.

  They told him they would decide his punishment and let him know at dinner, but let him say goodbye to his friends.

  “So how bad is it?” Jojo asked as he emerged from the house and joined them on the stoop.

  “It could be worse,” Ralph said.

  “They sounded pretty mad,” said Noel. Then he brightened. “Hey, look at this!” While the others had been on their phones, he had been passing the time rereading the Search for the Seven Serpents. “The last page has changed!”

  He looked down at the page and read:

  “ ‘Upon the defeat of the Komach’Kreel, deliver the scepter to the aged Wizard Wycroft, who will reward you handsomely.’ ”

  There was even an illustration. Five intrepid adventurers—a dwarf cleric, a barbarian warrior, an elf wizard, a halfling rogue, and a half-orc bard—were presenting the scepter to a very thin and gaunt mage, who now had the requisite long white beard.

  Ralph smiled. If this was their last game, at least it would always be remembered.

  There was a jingling noise. Jojo shifted nervously and checked her phone. “Listen, that was Joie. They’re still at the Atlantic Center mall. I’m going to meet them.” She took a brush out of her bag and began brushing her hair.

  Cammi looked up from his phone at Persephone.

  He turned to Ralph. “So it seems rehearsal is still going on and they really want us to come so we can get caught up.”

  “Sure,” said Ralph. “Of course.” He turned to Noel.

  Before he could say anything, Noel stood up. “Hey, Jojo, I’ll go to Atlantic Center with you. I just texted my parents and they said it’s cool.”

  “Um, Noel, I’m not sure you want to come,” Jojo said. “We’re shopping for pajamas at, like, girls’-type stores….”

  Noel shook his head. “I just meant I’d go on the train with you. GameStore has the new World War II game I want to try out.”

  Ralph stood alone on his stoop.

  “So this is it?” he said to no one in particular. “This is how it all ends?”

  His four friends stopped on the sidewalk and faced him. He couldn’t read their expressions. Even Persephone, who was usually so easy to figure out (or else she’d tell you), was impossible to decipher, with a small smile on her face.

  “What were you guys talking about when I was inside?” Ralph asked. “Are we on for next week or not?”

  “Hey, you never know,” Noel replied. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out!”

  The Great Throne Room of Athanos had undergone a dramatic change. Where once there was darkness, now there was light. The deep brown oaken panels that had lined the walls were now white birch, and the heavy velvet curtains that had hung over each window were now muslin, letting the sunshine stream in, forming pools of light that glowed throughout the chamber.

  The courtiers had changed as well. They were dressed in pastel pinks and blues, to match their mood, which seemed to bubble up into the very air, a combination of happy voices and laughter.

  All this seemed to be a reflection of the man on the throne, who lounged easily in a loose white robe, his gentle eyes taking in the scene with a serenity that came from deep within.

  A messenger dressed in scarlet ran into the room, and conversation ceased. The young page knelt in front of the throne. The man in the white robe leaned forward to hear the news, then leaned back and broke into a smile.

  “Excellent! Let them come forward!” he said, clapping his hands.

  A murmur went through the assembled court as a group entered the hall. They approached the throne with easy confidence and an air of purpose.

  “Gerontius Darksbane, so good to see you!” called the man.

  “Great Mag
e, we come at your bidding,” the wizard said, and bowed.

  “May you always be blessed in the eyes of Orach’T’char,” intoned the dwarf cleric at his side.

  “Good Master Torgrim,” the mage said, nodding. “And I am delighted to see you, Mirak! I have missed your songs, mistress.”

  “Ever at your service, sir,” replied Mirak the bard, her hand on her heart.

  “And am I to assume you are no less happy to see me?” insisted the small person at her side, his arms crossed. “Or shall I take my leave?”

  “Peace, Master Quickfoot,” answered the mage. “Your skills and good company are as desired as those of any of your fellows.”

  The mage looked past the quartet. “But there seems to be one of your cohorts who is not present. I do hope no ill fate has overtaken her?”

  Torgrim sighed and looked down. “We are at your command, Great Mage. There is no news of our brave and fearless comrade.”

  The mage looked pensive. Then he sighed. “Ah, well. The gods have their reasons, have they not? What is important is that I have a task for which I needed the most intrepid, the most dauntless, the finest team of adventurers in all of Demos.”

  “Tell us our new task,” said Bram excitedly, “and we will undertake it, no matter how challenging.”

  The mage cleared his throat, but before any words could leave his mouth, there was a commotion by the entrance. Someone was trying to push into the hall, strewing guardsmen left and right.

  The imposing figure strode down the aisle toward the mage as the court erupted into gasps.

  The red-maned warrior took her place next to the others.

  “I am late, and that is unfortunate,” she said.

  “Jandia, you are right on time,” said Gerontius happily.

  Jandia Ravenhelm the Fearsome, Bane of the Kreel, turned to her comrades.

  “Sorry. Gymnastics practice ran over.”

  “No problem,” said Mirak, giving her a hug. “We’re just glad you’re here.”

  “Are you kidding?” said Bram. “She wouldn’t have missed it for the world!”

  “And now,” said Torgrim, rubbing his hands together, “alea iacta est. The die is cast!”