Game Play (16 page)

Ryx had been the
cause of Tallin's death.

Ryx.

Delrael did not
pause when they passed Consort's stiffening body at the intersection of cross
tunnels. Things were different now
―
he remembered Tallin touching
him on the elbow, telling him not to feel guilty about striking down the
part-human creature. He listened to his sharp footsteps, steady and determined.

The tunnels sloped
upward again, and Delrael strode toward the throne room. His anger had not
begun to fade. Tallin's death sent jabs of pain through his chest. The wound
would have to be cauterized
―
by the death of the queen.

They crossed back
over the underground hex-line, but still they encountered no Anteds. It was too
easy. Bryl moaned that it was a trap.

Delrael knew he was
probably right.

When they finally
reached the throne room, he did not slow. The others waited where the tunnels
opened into the vaulted grotto, but Delrael strode ahead without stopping to
think. He didn't want to think right now. His eyes burned.

He made no attempt
to hide himself or to approach quietly. His boots made loud noises on the
hardened floor. He curled his lips as he saw the queen Anted alone on her
granite dais.

"I've come to
kill you, Ryx." Delrael's voice dripped ice. "For murdering
Tallin."

The queen turned
quickly, pivoting her massive eyeless head toward him.

She made a thin,
warbling noise that Delrael could not interpret.

"After you
killed my Consort and sixteen of my Anteds, how can
you
want revenge?"
Her head bobbed in a convulsive motion and her short feelers waved in the air
like whips underwater. "You could have escaped hours ago."

Delrael didn't
flinch. "Without you to control them, Ryx, these Anteds would not have
attacked."

Ryx drew herself up
on the throne, leaning forward and extending two claw-tipped legs.
"Without me to control them, they would not be able to move!

They are all parts
of
me
, controlled by me."

Ryx turned sharply,
quivering her antennae. Sunlight from the opening above dappled her
bullet-smooth head. "What? Another intruder? I thought no one went on
quests anymore."

She pulled the
bristly hair from her forelimbs through the inner parts of her mouth, cleaning
and combing them. She turned her attention back toward Delrael. Ryx hesitated,
as if lost in memories and blanketed in her blindness.

"By killing
Consort, you destroyed my chances to form another colony. A character race that
could have surged across the map and risen to dominance even against
Scartaris's armies. Stronger than human characters, stronger even than the
Slac."

She rocked up from
the stone dais. Her golden wings straightened to keep her balance. Ryx's
mandibles opened and emitted a thin hiss. "He was to be my Consort! I was
developing him
―
he could never have changed entirely, but I would
have borne him on a mating flight.

"Our colony of
children would have had the strength and armor class of the Anteds, but also
the intelligence, independence, and agility of humans!

Gamearth could have
been ours
―
but you destroyed him!"

The queen tapped
her two forelegs together. A group of Anteds emerged in silence from other
branching tunnels. As they approached, Ryx relaxed and seemed more aware
―
she could see now through their eyes. Delrael held Tallin's crossbow, but did
not take his gaze from the winged queen.

"Faster than a
speeding bullet!" Journeyman shouted as he charged, swinging his
battering-ram fists. He picked up one Anted and threw it at the others,
knocking them back. "How do you like them apples?"

But more Anteds
came. Journeyman smashed a head, whirling in time to kill another insect. The
golem stood within the flood of monsters, flailing both arms, smashing and
killing, as the Anteds drove in from all sides.

Vailret ran at
those on the edges, slashing away their antennae and leaving them disoriented
and blinded.

The insects
squealed as a wall of flame erupted within their ranks, exploding their
polished black bodies from within. Bryl grasped the Fire Stone, red in the face
and sweating with his last spell for the day. But for a moment the Anteds were
knocked back out of the queen's chambers.

Ryx appeared
stunned, driven against her chair. She leaned forward and drummed her amber
wings. Springing up with her powerful hind legs, the queen launched herself
into the air. Her eyeless head turned from side to side, but with no other
Anteds in the chamber, she could not see around her.

Her wings thrummed
as Ryx rose toward the exit hole in the ceiling. "I thought I would keep
one of you as my new Consort, but it would not be the same. He is dead. You
killed him."

No other Anteds had
pushed their way into the chamber yet. Delrael felt a calmness inside, a
confidence in the approaching victory.

Ryx veered away and
winged upward, to escape. She could not defend herself, she could not see.
Disoriented and relying on her memory, the queen Anted misjudged the exit hole
above. Powerful wings brought her crashing into the jagged ceiling of the
grotto. Stunned, Ryx reeled downward.

In the tunnels
outside the throne chamber, other approaching Anteds froze in their tracks with
no guiding force. They swayed on their feet while Ryx tried to overcome her
dizziness. Delrael saw his chance.

Ryx flopped her
wings to keep aloft. A thin crack showed in the polished black head. Ryx
ascended again, laboring with her wings to circle around the throne room in an
uncertain spiral, hoping to stumble upon the way out.

Delrael fitted his
blood-tipped arrow into the crossbow.

Disregarding the
approaching Anteds, ignoring everything else except for the memory of Tallin
and the sight of the ylvan's death, he lifted the crossbow and pulled at the
small trigger. "This is for you, Tallin."

In her circling
flight, Ryx turned to face the fighter without knowing it. She did not see him,
or his arrow.

Delrael shot the
crossbow.

Gairoth covered his
ears against the insane chirping and roared in annoyance. Spittle sprayed from
his thick lips. He swung his club, breaking one of the attacking Anteds into
pieces. Others crawled out of their hexagonal openings and swarmed toward him.

"Go
away!" The ogre smashed another, then tripped on one that lay dead at his
feet. "Stupid bugs!"

He had followed
Delroth's easy trail across the barren soil, but then the tracks disappeared
near one of the holes. Gairoth searched for hours, muttering in frustration. He
couldn't follow the mixed-up insect tracks, and he couldn't see anything down
in the dark holes. He didn't want to climb down there. He sat down in the dirt
and imagined the things he could do to Delroth.

And then the Anteds
came.

Gairoth's club
dripped clotting ooze. He pursed his lips and dared the insects to come closer.

The Anteds were
unimpressed and took the dare. Gairoth roared his best battle cry and smashed
black chitin. Gairoth wished his dragon Rognoth were there to help.

The ogre's arm
began to tire, and he could not knock the Anteds away as quickly as they rushed
at him. They swarmed over piles of twitching bodies, pulling him down.

"Stupid
bugs!" Gairoth battered at hard chitin with his clumsy hands, but he could
not throw the giant creatures off him, could not break the grip of the jaws
that wrapped themselves around his thick neck, legs and arms, like scissors
ready to cut him to pieces.

Delrael watched his
arrow as it passed through the air in a perfect arc. Ryx's mandibles spread
wide as if to receive a gift.

The arrow plunged
through her mouth, deep into the soft membranes and delicate tissues. The tip
embedded itself in the most vital organ, the brain controlling the Anted
colony. The small point of the arrow protruded through the chitin at the back
of Ryx's head.

Green blood
squirted out of her mouth, mixed with the queen's whitish-gold jelly. The
brittle armor of her body shattered on the rock floor.

The Anteds in the
tunnels collapsed in their tracks.

Bryl panted, then
slumped down to sit on the floor. He held the Fire Stone in pale, trembling
hands. Journeyman stood in front of the ranks of dead Anteds, nudging and
smoothing the gouges in his clay skin. Vailret brushed off his tunic, then
leaned against a curved wall, propping the blade of his short sword against his
leg. He blinked again and again, but his eyes remained wide, unable to believe
how he had fought.

Delrael stared at
the dead hulk of Ryx lying on the floor like a broken toy, but his eyes saw
nothing. "For you, Tallin," he whispered. Delrael rolled his tongue
around his mouth, trying to discover some pleasure in the slaughter. Somehow,
this hadn't held the thrill and fun that adventures were supposed to have. Was
he breaking the primary Rule now? Wasn't this supposed to be fun?

The Game had
changed all at once, like a slap in the face. Delrael had always assumed that
he would survive, that the Game would go on forever, and the characters would
keep playing. He had lived through difficult adventures
―
against
the dragon Tryos, against Gairoth and his illusion army, even against the
forest fire and the Cyclops that had destroyed Delrael's leg.

But Tallin had not
survived.

He raised his eyes
to the ceiling of the grotto and lifted the empty crossbow in salute. His mouth
was a grim line, making the muscles of his neck stand out. Turning, he spat at
the queen Anted's broken body.

Delrael stood with
a stiff back and rigid limbs beside Tallin's body.

He molded his
emotions into a flat mask. Slaughtered Anteds lay as they had fallen, but
Delrael paid no attention. A thick, wet smell of death hung in the air.

The others stayed
by the wall, watching Delrael. He looked into the ylvan's motionless, pale
face. Blood and Anted grease caked his own clothes and hands. The heavy air
made him sick to his stomach.

Delrael drew his
sword, scribing a rectangle on the floor. He began chipping away at the fused
sand, scooping hunks away into a pile. The sand underneath was a brighter,
fresher color than the packed floor.

Vailret came
forward. "Can we help?"

Lost in his
thoughts, Delrael jumped and stared at him, disoriented, before answering.
"No. This is for me to do."

He went to Tallin's
body, removing the small quiver from the ylvan's back, and set it with Tallin's
crossbow next to the newly cut grave. He picked up the body, trembling as he
touched the cold skin. He laid Tallin in the shallow hole, then straightened
his arms and legs.

"He would
rather have been buried in a forest somewhere, I think."

Delrael fought back
anger and despair once more. He stared a long moment, thinking. He placed the
crossbow across Tallin's chest, then reached for the quiver, removing the two
longest arrow fragments.

Tears brimmed on
his eyelids, but Delrael had already been through enough sorrow to last him for
the rest of the Game. They had a mission to accomplish, a quest to finish.

He turned away
without looking at the ylvan again and scooped dirt back into the grave. When
he had finished, he patted the hard mound with his hands.

He sat still,
exhausted and aching both inside and out, before he made himself stand again.
He pushed the two broken arrows into the head of the mound, where the
arrowheads pointed up at the Gamearth sky.

Delrael turned his
back on the mound. The light from the opening above had slanted, showing the
approach of sunset. He motioned the others to follow him. "Let's get the
hell out of here."

Together, they
managed to climb through the hexagonal opening. Delrael stood on the lip,
reaching down to help the others.

"Beam me up,
Scotty!" Journeyman jumped up and stood on the rocky ground, flexing his
gray-brown arms. The sky had an orange cast of sunset.

They had been
underground an entire day.

The sun set behind
Gairoth, and his shadow stretched out across the flat terrain, pointing which
way he should go. He plodded along, stomping dust with his ponderous bare feet.

The Anteds had
stopped attacking him and dropped dead. Gairoth decided he must have frightened
the Anteds into surrender. They had all fallen motionless together, leaving him
unharmed but buried under them. By the time he crawled out from under the
tangle of black bodies and jointed legs, he could find no trace of Delroth.

The ogre began to
believe he might have been outsmarted, again. His fingers gripped his club so
tightly that the ridges from the wood made marks on his calloused hand.

The ogre looked at
the sprawling terrain ahead, then he grinned as far as his thick lips could
stretch. Four figures emerged from one of the distant holes and set off toward
the next hexagon. They were far from his sight, but at least they were visible.
He had the trail again.