Game Play (37 page)

Delrael squirmed in
the grip of the bat-creature. His own blood poured from gashes in his leather
armor where the claws sank into him. The pain sent fire through his chest.

Scartaris's grotto
lay closer than ever now. The hex-line broke the last section of desolation
from the rocky, mountain terrain.

He didn't know what
was happening, where the creature was taking him.

But when it drifted
over the sharp air currents when the terrain changed from flatland to
mountains, he saw the rocks below like spears pointed up at him.

He felt the
bat-creature tighten its knobby claws just for a moment -and then Delrael knew
what it intended. The creature had taken him high aloft ... now it was going to
drop him.

Delrael ignored the
daggers of pain in his shoulder. He winced, but knew what he had to do. He
lunged upward with his free hand, grabbing onto the bat-creature's leg just as
it released its claws. He gripped hard, digging his fingernails into the rough
hide. The sharp rocks seemed a long, long drop below.

The bat-creature
flapped its wings in surprise and screamed a high-pitched noise. Its claws extended
and retracted as it tried to grab onto something to fight back. Delrael would
not let go. The bat-creature hissed and bobbed its sharp head down, but the
fighter was out of its reach.

Feeling as if he
were lifting a gigantic weight, Delrael heaved his sword up with one hand and
thrust it through the thin membrane of a wing, ripping a gash. He had to get
down. Air whistled through the cut, and the bat-creature flailed but it could
not get away.

The flying creature
dropped lower. Delrael poked with the sword again.

As the creature
beat its immense wings, the wind and the air ripped the gash wider.

The ground rushed
up at them. He had caused too much damage. They would crash and both be killed.

But then the
bat-creature pumped its wings with renewed strength. It spun in a tight circle
as one wing drove harder than the other, but still ascended.

Delrael grew dizzy.
The ground below him spun with the crazy spiral flight. Hot tears of pain
streamed down Delrael's cheeks. The strain of holding on with one hand, holding
his entire weight against the long drop drove nails into the wounds in his
shoulders.

He had to get down.
He wanted to scream.

Delrael reached up
with the sword one more time and chopped at the other wing. The creature
dropped again, hissing, but Delrael would not let go.

The ground rushed
up.

He tried to swing
the bat-creature's body around, to direct it toward a clear spot in the
foothills of the mountain terrain, but he didn't know how.

The creature's
fangs glistened in the starlight, and it bore a vicious expression behind the
pupilless eyes. Once they struck the ground, it would attack him.

The rocks came
closer
―
Delrael could survive now, though the fall might hurt
him. He swung the sword up awkwardly. He hit the main strut of the creature's
wing, chopping at its shoulder.

The rocks came up.
He stabbed the creature in the abdomen and then let go, dropping the last ten
feet to the ground.

The bat-creature
crashed next to him. Delrael heard the dry-wood
snap
of the bones in its
wings as it fell. The creature lay on the rocks, flapping and hissing, trying
to get at him. It elbowed forward on the jagged splinters of its wings, but
Delrael slipped in past the hissing mouth. He struck the arrow-shaped head with
his sword. The creature's wings flopped and twitched, then lay still.

Blood streamed down
Delrael's shoulders
―
his own blood
―
and he took ten
steps away from the dead creature, up the path toward the grotto of Scartaris.

Delrael slumped
down to rest on a boulder. Everything grew fuzzy. His pain, exhaustion, and
hopelessness welled up. He could not find the strength to stand.

The bat-creature
had carried him over most of the army. The monster hordes lay below him,
fighting against Bryl's illusion soldiers. Ahead and to the right, a curved
spike of rock swept up from the main mountainous mass, one of the horns
bracketing Scartaris's grotto.

Delrael breathed
the cool night air and saw mist rising inside the giant mouthlike opening in
the mountain. Strange lights flashed, many different colors. It seemed close to
him, but now he felt all alone. He didn't know where Mindar was, or Vailret or
Journeyman. He had come this far.

But he couldn't
make the last effort.

"You must move
on," the voice of the Earthspirits said from his belt.

He felt a throb of
energy creep up his spine, a warmth filling his veins like molten sunshine. The
pain in his shoulders lessened.

Delrael stood up,
feeling vibrant. He could function now. Then an ominous thought crossed his
mind. "I hope you'll still have enough energy now to defeat
Scartaris."

The long pause made
him feel uncomfortable even before the Earthspirits answered. "We have
never
had enough energy to defeat Scartaris."

He stumbled
backward. His ears burned, and he stared at the turmoil of battle below him.
All they had done, the characters who had died ... Sadic, Tallin, the entire
city of Taire
―
"What do you mean?"

"Scartaris is
too powerful. That is one of the other reasons we had you carry us across the
map. Physical travel is ...
difficult
for us, now that we are only marginally
connected with the map of Gamearth. We can move
you
, like a player moving a
piece on a gameboard. But the hex-lines are great stumbling blocks for us. We
are outside the Rules, and yet trapped by them."

The silver belt
felt cold and tingling at his waist. Delrael didn't want to touch it. The
Spirits continued.

"But still,
according to those same Rules, when an evil adversary threatens, good
characters must do their best to fight. Regardless of their chances. Therefore,
we will fight. Though Scartaris is much more powerful, nothing is absolute on
Gamearth. We must hold on to that chance."

"You mean, you
hope that Mindar's Stranger Unlooked-For shows up?"

Delrael tried to
keep the scorn out of his voice.

"We know
nothing of that. We must fight and do our best
―
as
you
must,
Delrael. And your sworn quest is to take us to Scartaris. Now finish your
quest!"

His heart felt like
a lead brick inside him, but he plodded toward the grotto. If the Earthspirits
couldn't destroy Scartaris, maybe they could at least weaken him, buy time for
the magic of Gamearth to find another way on its own.

Scartaris had few
defenses this far behind the ranks, probably to show his overconfidence.
Several minor demons wandered among the rocks where they had fled. They fought
without enthusiasm, and Delrael defeated them or chased them away. He still
felt new energy from the Earthspirits, along with a growing anger at the
futility of it all. He stalked toward the opening and the many-colored lights
inside.

Rocks crunched
under his boots as he climbed up the slope. Jagged boulders stood beside the
opening that led deep into the mountain. He could not see the source of the
lights, but weird shadows played on the wall and spilled out onto the
quest-path.

Weariness crept up
on him as he approached the end of the journey. He needed only to get to
Scartaris, throw down the silver belt.

Panting, he strode
up to the opening and he saw a figure inside, backlit against the grotto. She
stood staring, looking devastated. The
S
-scar on her forehead glowed with its
own bloody light. She slumped against one of the tall rocks beside the opening.

"Mindar!"
Delrael said. "You're safe."

He saw a flicker of
happiness when she looked at him, but that too was swallowed by the gulf of
despair behind her eyes. "Of course I survived. I had to. Scartaris won't
let me die." Her misery seemed to be tearing her apart.

"What's wrong?
We're almost there. We can destroy Scartaris!" The lie came out, but he
had to say it for her.

She glared at him
with a wasteland of expression. The rippled sword rested against her leg,
stained with dark blood. Her entire body trembled.

"I'm the only
thing left to stop you, Delrael."

He took a step
back; his thoughts churned. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes averted. He
couldn't imagine she would do anything to harm him. "What are you talking
about?"

Mindar hung her
head. "I lied to you."

A black shadow-form
oozed out of the dark rocks beside the opening and stood silhouetted next to
her. Its silver claws gleamed from the reflected light.

"I didn't know
until now, but it's true," Mindar said. "
I
am the Cailee!"

Chapter 21:

THRESHOLD OF
SCARTARIS

"Do you enjoy
these battles, these Wars? Are they fun? Look what they have cost you!"

―
Stilvess Peacemaker
Delrael's heart stumbled a beat, and his breath came in ragged gasps.

He wanted to reach
out for Mindar, to take her arm, but he felt stunned.

"Scartaris
kept the truth from me. The Cailee is my shadow, a darker part of me than I
knew I had," Mindar said. A sigh hissed through her teeth .

"It splits
from me each night to cause its harm. We cannot live without each other. And Scartaris
won't let us die. It was part of his Game. He made me hate the Cailee, despise
it
―
but I was only hating myself! Scartaris thinks of it as
fun!"

She bit back an
outcry as something forced her to take a lurching step toward the Cailee. The
shadow thing moved closer to her, blotting out the flickering light from the
grotto. They touched each other, overlapping.

The darkness of the
Cailee flooded over Mindar's body like a blanket of tar. Long silver claws hung
down from her fingers, wrapped around the hilt of her rippled sword. Shadows
masked her face, but Delrael could see her features silhouetted
―
the high cheekbones, the angry mouth. Mindar's eyes became misty yellow and
pupilless. The red S-scar burned through.

Delrael stood
transfixed. This was too much. The Cailee took one step, powerful and deadly,
blocking the way. But it was Mindar, too. When the hybrid woman/shadow spoke,
her voice had grown huskier.

"We know of
your quest, Delrael. Scartaris is
―
" Mindar/Cailee tossed her
head, as if fighting with herself. Something snapped inside, and she let out a
strangled roar, lunging with her rippled sword.

Delrael gave a yelp
of surprise and sprang back ward, exhausted but still tense with battle
reflexes. Mindar/Cailee slashed at him, rippled sword in one hand and silver
claws in the other. He tried to back away, unwilling to fight her, but she
struck again. He stumbled on a loose rock and slid away from her blade.

"Mindar!"
he said, but her eyes remained pupilless. The Cailee held her entirely now,
though Delrael saw flickers of something behind her gaze.

He staggered back
to his feet and swung his own sword, but it was only to deflect her.
Mindar/Cailee defended herself, and Delrael ran around and pushed past into the
uncertain light of Scartaris's grotto.

Mindar/Cailee
bounded after him. Delrael had to stop, panting. His arms and legs ached. He
could barely move. She slashed out, and Delrael brought up his blade to block
the blow. The force knocked his arm aside, clanging his sword against the rock
wall of the cave.

He pleaded with the
woman trapped within the Cailee. "Mindar, listen to me! Can't you see
Scartaris wants this?" He wheezed his words, but the angered Cailee drove
at him with renewed force.

"Mindar
―
you've turned into the thing you hate the most! You're a creature of
Scartaris!"

Delrael fought
against Mindar/Cailee's growing fury. His arms felt like stone, heavy and
unresponsive. He managed to fend off the blows that flashed at him, but his
body trembled with exhaustion. He had used up all his adrenaline.

"Mindar,
remember your daughter. Remember the tannery. Remember Taire!"

His throat was raw.

Delrael gazed into
the Cailee's yellow eyes. Dark pupils flickered on the verge of appearing.
Mindar/ Cailee hesitated, wincing her silhouetted features and struggling with
herself. "We're inseparable now," she gasped.

Then the Cailee
howled and slashed at the air with a fistful of silver claws.

Her pupils faded
again.

She struck and
slashed in a storm of blows with the rippled sword.

Delrael's arm
seared with pain. He stumbled as he fought with the last of his strength. His
sword sliced up and nicked Mindar/Cailee's arm, drawing a strange mixture of
shadow-smoke and bright blood.

The Cailee howled
and surged back at him with such vehemence that Delrael had no hope of de
fending himself. She knocked his arm aside, smashing his wrist against the rock
wall. His own sword clattered to the floor.