Chapter 8:

QUEEN'S FLIGHT

"RULE #11. When a character fails in combat, he or she may die. Death is final in the Game ― that character can never play again."

― The Book of Rules

Bryl could not reach the Fire Stone. He had rolled his spell, but the ruby lay untouched and gleaming on the ground. The Anted squeezed its jaws and lifted him into the air.

In a blur, Bryl's hand snatched out the dagger Tallin had given him.

Without pausing to think he struck down, pushing the blade deep into the Anted's compound eye.

The insect let out a shrill scream, gaping its mandibles Bryl dropped to the floor on limp legs, holding both elbows against his ribs where blood from torn skin seeped into his blue cloak. A wet stink came from the Anted's gushing wound. Bryl stumbled backward and grabbed the Fire Stone from the floor.

With more power than he realized he possessed, he blasted the wounded Anted into shards of chitinous armor and dripping tissue. The noise and flash of heat rippled through the tunnels, making him wince and back away.

"Delrael!" he called, but he was so frightened that it made his voice only a hoarse whisper. The other Anteds closed in. He wrung as much out of the spell as he could, roasting another two insects. Burning chitin popped and sputtered.

But Bryl's spell faded away, leaving him defenseless again. He pressed his back against the curved catacomb wall.

Beside him, Tallin lay in a pool of blood.

"Tallin!" Delrael's scream was hoarse, but he expected no answer. And received none. He heard only the scuffle of clawed feet, the sounds of Bryl's fire. The stench of burning Anteds came through the wall opening.

Delrael's shock gave way to rage. Sweat ran into his eyes from his dust-clumped brown hair.

"Journeyman can reshape himself and squeeze through!" Vailret said. "He can help Bryl."

"Go!" Delrael shouted.

In a quick gesture the golem clapped a supportive hand on Delrael's shoulder. "Here's looking at you, kid." Then he elongated himself, stretching the clay into the opening. His feet slithered through and he reshaped himself on the other side, bulging and eager for battle. He balled his clay fists and scrambled into the fray.

Delrael chipped at the wall and listened to the sounds of the fight.

Tallin lay dying on the other side.

He smashed the hilt down against the cement-sand, and a thin fracture line appeared. Smaller pieces of the wall flaked off. He could smell his sweat and the dust; his fingers began to sting and bleed. He and Vailret both grasped the rim of the hole and pulled, bumping into each other to get a better grip. A crumbling chunk broke off, falling with the loose sand to the tunnel floor.

"Come on!" Delrael crawled up through the hole. He scraped his elbows against the rough cement-sand, but he pushed his sword in front of him. He hooked his arms over the other side, then heaved himself through, banging his hip and scuffing his leather armor. He dropped beside Bryl with the grace of an acrobat.

He saw Tallin's twisted body on the floor. The ylvan's blood looked thick and dark in the harsh light angling through the opening overhead. He should have thought ahead, planned better.

"Tallin," Delrael said once more, then set his jaw. Holding the sword like a club in front of him, he strode forward at the Anteds. Delrael's ears pounded with a rushing of blood. He chopped with his sword. Vaguely, he became aware of the golem next to him hammering with his fists.

An Anted lunged at Journeyman, and the golem met it with a tightly clenched fist, splintering the chitin of its head in a rayed pattern like a spiderweb.

"It takes a licking and keeps on ticking!" The Anted flowed to the floor as all six legs went limp. "Hmmm, I guess not."

Delrael noticed the periphery of the battle with only enough awareness to avoid any unexpected threats. Bryl squeezed his eyes shut and rolled the eight-sided ruby again. Vailret had elbowed his own way through the hole and jumped toward one Anted, stretching his short sword out to lop off the insect's antennae. Reeling and disoriented, the Anted did not know how to defend itself, leaving it open to Vailret's stab to the brain.

An Anted lunged at Journeyman, jaws gaping wide like a steel trap. The golem braced himself, catching the pincers with his hands, and he spread the viselike jaws. The insect struggled to back away, but still Journeyman applied his strength. After a loud snapping sound, the golem released his hold to watch the ant fall among the others on the floor.

Delrael searched for another insect as the first ant head tumbled to the floor. The decapitated body struggled awkwardly before crumpling. His mind saw only the red of Tallin's blood.

Three more fell. Another exploded in flames as Bryl succeeded with his fourth spell for the day.

One insect circled around behind Delrael, opening its jaws. But Journeyman was there, leaping up and straddling the Anted's back. "Oh, a wise guy, eh? Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!" He grasped the ebony mandibles and pulled backward. His clay muscles rippled, stretching the Anted's neck grotesquely out of its socket until the pale connecting fibers popped apart.

The last of the chirping noises fell silent. Motionless hulks of the dead insects littered the floor, making it slippery with spattered ooze. No other Anteds appeared.

Delrael pushed his way past the fallen insect bodies.

Tallin.

Bryl was already bent over the ylvan. Delrael kneeled, staring, then he reached forward to brush blood away from Tallin's mouth. Delrael was shaking.

He dropped his sword with a clang on the hard floor.

The ylvan's eyes trembled, then flickered open. The pupils were dilated, unfocused. Blood welled up inside them from ruptured capillaries, but still they held a glimmer of life. Tallin's cheeks twitched.

Vailret's voice came over Delrael's shoulder, quiet and compassionate, but also practical. "We need to get out of here, Del, before Ryx sends more Anteds."

Delrael rose to his feet and turned on his cousin with such a terrible expression on his face that Vailret stepped backward, stumbling on the slippery floor. He caught himself against the wall.

Delrael slumped forward, shaking his chest as he contained his words, everything he wanted to say. He'd had many adventures, but he had never faced the death of a companion. Questing had been too much fun to worry about things like that. Rule number one ― always have fun! It seemed like such a ridiculous thing now.

His father Drodanis had watched an ogre murder his brother Cayon.

Vailret was beside Paenar when the blind Scavenger sacrificed himself at the volcano. But Delrael had never looked at death face to face before, never watched as the Outsiders removed a character from the Game permanently.

Delrael swung his fist in the air at some intangible foe. The Outsiders had to be watching. "What sort of Game are you playing with us! Why? Are you having fun?" His shoulders trembled. "Tallin..."

The ylvan's bloody lips parted, forming words like the last wind from a dying storm. Delrael bent his ear close to Tallin's mouth.

"Take my crossbow and ... use it."

Delrael squeezed Tallin's shoulder, trying to impart some energy back to the ylvan. He had been near death once himself, when the Cyclops attacked him near Ledaygen; but Thilane Healer of the khelebar had replaced his mangled leg with one made of kennok wood.

But they had no healers here now, nothing to help Tallin.

"Delrael ... I'm glad I knew ... you."

Something like a sigh escaped Tallin's lips, and Delrael stared intensely into the ylvan's black eyes. He held onto the camouflaged leather of his jerkin. The cap with the single scarlet feather had fallen off, lying on its side against the wall.

Tallin's gaze lifted, filled with tears of pain, and his eyes met Delrael's once before the ylvan departed.

Delrael froze as ice worked its way up from his gut into his veins and muscles. He stared into the ylvan's lifeless eyes before he lifted his hand to brush Tallin's cheek. A smear of blood dried on the back of his hand.

Silence rang in his ears. No one said anything to him. Delrael drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it didn't work. He stood up, brandishing the old Sorcerer sword at anything that could hear him.

"Damn you, Ryx!" He hung his head. "You and all the Outsiders, too."

His words bounced off the sides of the silent tunnel, vanishing into the distance. Bryl had recovered the Fire Stone and cowered beside Journeyman.

The golem stood motionless among the destroyed Anteds, waiting to see what would happen next.

Keeping his eyes lowered to hide his fury from the others, Delrael snatched up Tallin's fallen crossbow and fumbled in the torn quiver. He found one unbroken arrow.

Delrael withdrew it and held it in his trembling hands, watching as two drops of Tallin's blood fell to the floor. Sheathing his sword, he tightened his hand around the arrow and took the crossbow with him. "This is all I'll need to kill Ryx."

Delrael went back to the hole in the wall from which they had come.

Without another word, he pulled himself up.

"What are you doing?" Bryl said. He scrambled to his feet. Vailret looked as if he wanted to grab Delrael and pull him back.

"I'll have to retrace our steps so I can get back to the throne room."

He vanished into the hole and dropped to the other side. "You can come along or not. I don't care."

Delrael fixed his gaze straight ahead, not even glancing at any of the side tunnels. His mouth felt dry and raw, but he used that to increase his anger. The others followed without doubting his skill ― Delrael had been on enough gaming campaigns that he knew instinctively which tunnels they had taken.

Behind him, he heard the harsh whispers of his companions. Bryl complained about going to certain death, Vailret vowed not to let Delrael face it alone, Journeyman wanted to continue his own quest to Scartaris, but he also knew the way Gamearth adventures were done. "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country."

Delrael retraced their convoluted flight through the catacombs. He did not care about escaping. He only wanted Ryx. His revenge had a clear target.

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.

"I'll bash your head in, Delroth! BAM!"

Gairoth charged across the desolation before night could take his quarry from him.

 

INTERLUDE: OUTSIDE

 

Melanie turned her head to blink her eyes furiously. The tears stung.

She walked into Tyrone's kitchen before anyone could see the wet tracks on her cheeks. She clinked the ice cubes in her glass to emphasize that she was really just going to get more soda.

The others remained quiet, exhausted from the game. No one else seemed to get so close to their characters. David sat flushed from his victory.

Melanie could still feel where the sharp corners of the dice had bit into her palms. Damn!, she kept thinking. All that rolling for combat, engagement after engagement. She had saved four of them.

But Tallin had died.

"Sorry, Mel," Scott said. She turned around to look at him, reacting a little too quickly. Behind Scott's glasses she could see concern in his eyes.

He alone had not taken part in the Anted battle, preferring to set up the details for his own turn.

"Wow, wasn't that a great combat!" Tyrone grinned from ear to ear, excited Then he noticed the wounded look on Melanie's face. "What's the matter? Don't be pissed off just because one of your characters got killed."

Melanie glared at him with such intensity that Tyrone shrugged and lowered his voice. "Well, we could always change the rules if you want. Plenty of game systems let you bring characters back after they've been killed once ― "

"No!" David snapped. He remained at the table, studying the map and his notes, as if he didn't want to take a break between turns. "We decided against that a long time ago. We're not going to change the rules just because she wants to pout. Besides, Tallin was the second character Melanie introduced tonight. It was fair combat, and I won."

"We won," Tyrone said. "I played, too."

"David is right," Melanie said. Her voice was so quiet she couldn't believe she was agreeing with him. "I don't want complete power over life and death. We played by the rules. My character lost his combat rolls." She swallowed, but found her hands shaking as she filled the glass.

Just because one of your characters got killed, Tyrone had said.

Melanie kept her lips pressed together. That's all it was to them -disposable characters, names and scores they rolled. Puppets to fight and find treasure and get killed. No wonder David found it boring. He had no emotional stake. He didn't care about anything but ending the game. Melanie cared about the rest of it.

The death of Tallin was a sharp ache in her.

"At least I learned what Melanie's trying to do with her characters and her secret quest," David said. He smiled and leaned back in the chair. "But hiding the Earthspirits in a belt? Don't know where you came up with that idea, Mel, but it isn't going to work. I'm not sure we should even allow it."

He took off his black denim jacket and draped it over the arm rest, then reached forward to scoop up more of Tyrone's dip.

"If it won't work anyway, then why bother complaining about it?" Scott said with a half smile. "You're the one who keeps wishing the game would get more interesting ― let Mel take a few more risks."

"Sounds like fun to me," Tyrone said. David scowled, trapped by his own complaints.

Melanie stopped herself from saying that she had nothing to do with the Earthspirits in Delrael's belt ― any more than she had conjured up the Deathspirits to stop Enrod.

It was the game playing itself again.

That sent a thrill up her spine, pushing aside some of her sadness at Tallin's death. She knew something strange was happening with Gamearth. They all knew it. The characters were doing things with their lives outside of the Sunday gaming sessions.

Melanie made a smile of her own, hard and businesslike. She sat back down at the table. "Your characters don't know about the Earthspirits, David, so you can't do anything about it. Ryx is the only one who knew, and she's dead."

"Good point." Scott joined them, slouching down in his chair.

"In fact, David, you can't even prepare for my characters, because you officially don't know about their quest. Because of Tarne, Scartaris thinks Delrael is dead and the Fire Stone is still hidden somewhere at the Stronghold."

David drummed his fingers on the table. "I have so many armies camped around Scartaris that nothing could ever get through. I've gathered all the Slac, I've teamed up all the wandering monsters, stirred up some old antagonisms. There's a larger pool of monster fighters here ― " he tapped the painted map over the mountains of Scartaris, "than we ever brought together for the old Sorcerer wars."

He cracked his knuckles. "Your characters will never get through, Mel.

I have no doubt of that."

Melanie glared at him, but to her surprise Scott was the one who made a comment. "Well, David, we'll just have to wait and see. We've got other characters in this game, you know, not just the ones Melanie's playing."

He picked up the dice and pointed at one of the hexagonal map sections near the city of Sitnalta. "I'm starting there. It's my turn."