Game Play (20 page)

Vailret glanced at
Delrael, then decided to answer anyway. "Yes, we know where they are,
though the Earth Stone is not readily accessible."

Bryl had sensed the
twenty-sided emerald Stone somewhere in the treasure grotto of Tryos the
dragon, but they had no time to search before rescuing Tareah. Vailret wondered
how Tareah was faring back at the Stronghold....

"Never bring
all four Stones together unless you are prepared for what will happen,"
Arken said, pointing a stone finger at them. "It's like magical synergy.
More power resides in the combined Stones than even the six Spirits possess. A
character gathering all four Stones could unleash a new Transition for himself.
One character should not have such power."

Arken cocked his
grotesque head toward the open sky between the peaks, and his voice took on a
wistful tone. The wind whistled around the bars of the gate. "The
Transition was an awesome enough thing to do once in the Game."

Vailret cleared his
throat, hoarse with awe at a conversation with one of the greatest Sentinels of
legend. "I read your description of the Transition. I found it in Sardun's
Ice Palace." His voice trembled.

The blocky stone
gargoyle turned his head. A long sigh rumbled out of his stone chest. "I
remember writing that, but I was too amazed to describe it well. Imagine the
Sorcerer race gathered in a shallow valley, waiting. All the characters who
were going on the Transition, and some who only wanted to watch."

"We've been to
that valley, too." Vailret watched the crude face and tried to picture
what Arken must have looked like as a great Sorcerer spokesman. "It seemed
haunted."

"I don't doubt
it," Arken answered. "Five of our leaders were inside a counsel tent.
Even Stilvess Peacemaker was there, the one who had ended the wars. He was so
old he could barely move.

"It was about
this time of year, the autumn equinox. The air was cold, and the wind kept
flapping the white tent. The other characters waited outside on the plain,
ready, in case something should happen. None of them knew what was going on
inside. But I did. I was there, their official observer."

"Well?"
Vailret asked. His eyes sparkled and his breath quickened. "How did you
manage to break the Rules and succeed in the Transition?"

Arken held up one
stone hand. "We broke no Rules! It was difficult what we did, yes
―
but we broke no Rules. Actions on Gamearth are determined by the roll of the
dice. Nothing is impossible if you wait long enough and try enough times."

"So what were
they doing inside the tent?" Vailret repeated. Delrael shuffled his feet;
Vailret wondered if he was curious or just impatient.

"The five of
them were rolling dice. Twenty-sided dice, made from pure crystal, perfectly
balanced, the finest dice ever seen on Gamearth.

"The five
Sorcerers rolled their dice, over and over and over. They did not stop, day or
night. They were weary. I watched their eyes turn red. All of them looked
haggard. Old Stilvess seemed as if he was about to collapse."

"But what were
they trying to do?" Vailret asked.

Arken seemed to
ignore Vailret's question. He spread his stone wings with a grinding sound.
"At last, all five of them rolled a twenty on the same roll. A nearly
impossible roll
―
nearly
impossible. A perfect, perfect dice roll,
unheard of on Gamearth.

"And when they
rolled five twenties, five of the greatest living Sorcerers on Gamearth, they
unleashed enough power to initiate the Transition." The stone gargoyle
hung his head. "That was when I ran out of the tent."

Delrael sighed and
sounded angry. He rattled the gate again with his hand. "That doesn't
concern us." He leaned against one of the cold walls of rock. "We
have to get past here."

Arken hunched his
shoulders and swivelled the crudely formed blockish head to look at the
fighter.

"Can we fight
you?" Delrael unsheathed his sword, but it looked ineffective against the
blocky stone body of the gargoyle.

Arken shook his
head from side to side. "I wouldn't advise it. Your sword wouldn't harm
me, but I could cause plenty of damage to you."

"What if you
had a better opponent?" Journeyman said. "When the going gets tough,
the tough get going! A gargoyle and a golem
―
we should have an equivalent
strength class."

Journeyman turned
to the other travelers. "He can't really damage me, any more than I can
damage him. We could wrestle. If I win, the gate opens and we pass."

Arken clapped his
stone hands with a sharp crack. "It sounds acceptable to me. I must warn
you, though, that I am bound to
try
my utmost to defeat you. I can't just let
you win. It has to be fair."

Journeyman drew
himself up, flexing his soft arms. "Go for all the gusto while you
can."

Arken worked his
jaw, as if finding words difficult. "If the golem does win, I wish you the
best of luck on your quest. I want to see Scartaris stopped too."

He faced
Journeyman. "Don't worry about causing damage to me. My spirit isn't bound
to this stone body. As long as Scartaris holds me here, he controls me. But if
you ... break me, then I will be free. For a time, at least."

Journeyman made the
features of his face run flat as he flowed more clay into his shoulders and
arms, concentrating his strength. "It's not just a job, it's an
adventure."

Delrael, Vailret,
and Bryl stood by the locked gate and watched Arken.

The massive stone
creature stepped to the narrow part of the path and faced Journeyman.

"Luck,
Journeyman," Vailret said.

"Luck,"
Bryl and Delrael echoed.

Arken planted his
stone feet squarely on the quest-path and opened his arms, ready to grapple
with the golem. He surprised them all by wishing Journeyman luck as well.

"You can
surrender any time," Journeyman said.

The grotesque
gargoyle straightened his back. "I'll remember that.

Ready?"

"Yes,
ready."

With a slap of clay
on stone, Journeyman and Arken grabbed each other around the shoulders.
Journeyman's hands flattened as he pushed against the stone gargoyle's arms.
Arken spread his feet, which seemed to fuse to the rock of the trail.

Neither of the
combatants made a sound. They kept their faces neutral.

Since they were not
human, they did not grunt with the strain, or pant, or show any sign of the
exertion they made. The breeze died down, and the cold air retained its
claustrophobic silence.

"Irresistible
force and immovable object," Journeyman said. "Did you ever hear
about that one, Arken? It's a riddle from Outside."

Arken strained and
pushed, but his voice sounded curiously neutral.

"What is the
solution?"

Journeyman's body
seemed distorted and stretched with the effort to maintain himself against the
gargoyle. "I don't believe it has a solution. The Outsiders can be very
strange at times."

The gargoyle lifted
one of his blocky stone feet and pivoted, forcing Journeyman to bend and turn
his back to the sheer precipice.

"Come on,
Journeyman!" Bryl shouted.

Arken's hunched
back bent as he took a small step forward, forcing Journeyman closer to the
edge. But the clay golem did not move his feet, stretching his legs instead. He
slid his arms to get a better grip on Arken's smooth shoulders.

"More powerful
than a locomotive," Journeyman said again, but his voice was fainter this
time.

Vailret found himself
wincing and pressing his fingers into his fists, straining his arm muscles as
if that could assist the golem.

Arken's blocky
hands left deep indentations in Journeyman's body. The stone gargoyle pushed
harder and harder.

"Able to leap
tall buildings in a single
―
"

Finally something
snapped.

"―
bound!" Journeyman let out a strange cry like the release of a too-tight
bowstring, and his clay flowed like liquid. He flung himself backward, bending
over upon himself in an impossible angle, out of the way.

Arken, thrusting
forward with all his might, suddenly had no purchase and nothing to push
against.

He went plummeting
over Journeyman, off into space.

Vailret and Delrael
ran forward as Journeyman straightened himself up, pulled his body back
together and rearranged his clay. He stood tall. They all heard a distant
thock!
as Arken's stone body crashed into the rocks far below.

Vailret didn't want
to go to the path edge and look.

Journeyman did not
appear flustered. His clay mouth twisted in a beaming expression. "That
was the big difference between us, you know, a golem and a gargoyle," he
said. "Clay bends, stone doesn't."

The black iron bars
of Arken's gate tinkled into nothingness on the rock. A chill wind whistled
along the quest-path, motioning the travelers ahead to where the trail was wide
and easy.

The shadows of
sunset followed them as they passed through the vanished gateway. Just on the
other side of the cut waited the black hex-line where they had to stop for the
day. The next hexagon of mountain terrain descended gradually, sloping down out
of the Spectres, as if saying that any character who passed Arken's gate
deserved easy traveling.

Ahead, the land of
Scartaris waited for them.

Chapter 12:

DOWNFALL OF THE
STRONGHOLD

"We must keep
the legends alive, the stories of brave quests, the memories of past characters
who have become heroes. Though the Outsiders wish only to amuse themselves turn
after turn, this is still our
history
."

―
The Sentinel
Sardun, part of the "Lost Records" buried under the Ice Palace ruins.

The villagers
gathered in the Stronghold courtyard at sunset to hold a formal ceremony in
memory of Tarne. Jagged shadows from the pointed wall crept across the
courtyard. The veteran's ashes had been gathered up and buried in a special
area near the Stronghold wall, an honored place where Vailret's father Cayon
was interred, as well as Delrael's mother Fielle.

Young Tareah rubbed
her elbows and knees in the chill air. Her joints still ached, but she listened
with rapt attention as the villagers did quest-tellings of Tarne's greatest
adventures.

Jorte, the keeper
of the gaming hall, spoke of when Tarne had been one of the companions of
Drodanis and Cayon, a great fighter and quester. Others told how Tarne was one
of the fighters led by Drodanis against the ogres in revenge for the murder of
Cayon ... how Tarne was wounded in that fight and had since seen visions of
future turns of the Game. The young farmer Romm described Tarne's warning to
the other villagers that Gairoth would take over the Stronghold, and how he led
a brave defense against the attack; when that failed, Tarne had led them into
exile in the deep forest terrain until Delrael returned and vanquished Gairoth.

Tareah herself
picked up the hexagonal tile bearing the veteran's name and placed it on the
grave. She remembered the quiet, bald man who seemed to hold so much inside
him. A weaver, who wanted no further part in fighting and battles. She stared
at the wall, not at the gathered villagers, as she described Tarne's brave
fight, alone in the middle of the night to defend them all against the Slave of
the Serpent.

Darkness fell, and
young Romm lit several torches in the courtyard. The villagers stood around,
not certain what to do after the ceremony. They seemed leaderless and
disoriented without the bald veteran. Tareah did not blame them
―
she was new, she had no experience with quests or adventuring. Why should they
trust her to lead them?

She had spent her
entire life isolated in the Ice Palace with her father, and when the dragon had
kidnaped her, she merely waited for some adventurer to come rescue her.
Regardless of her Water Stone or how much magic she could use, Tareah still had
much to learn.

Vailret's mother
Siya stood beside her, looking tired and withdrawn.

She wore clean but
drab clothes highlighted by a flashing emerald brooch. Siya told Tareah that
Cayon had given it to her, stolen from a Slac treasure pit he once raided. Now
Siya's face seemed old, and she tied her hair back in a severe bun. Since her
son and Delrael had gone on their quest to Scartaris, Siya acted angry and
lonely, with nothing more to hold onto.

The stars came out.
Night birds made sounds in the forest. Tareah looked up to see the green smear
of Lady Maire's Veil across the sky. That made her think of how Tarne must have
seen his own death there
―
yet, even knowing that, he still went
to face the Slave of the Serpent.

The outbuildings
stood shadowy and empty now, with Delrael, Vailret, and Bryl gone, and Tarne
dead. The main hall of the Stronghold echoed with silence. They had no students
at the Stronghold for battle exercises or role-playing games. The place was
deserted, big and frightening. It reminded Tareah of the Ice Palace and the
empty vaults full of relics, now buried under crumbled ice and snow.