Anderson, Kevin J - Gamearth 01 (13 page)

Tyrone forced a laugh. "Sounds like you're getting personal, David."

"It is personal. A lot depends on this, you guys. I'm fighting for your lives, too."

The bright blue streak down the center of the map filled Melanie with awe. "And I'm fighting for theirs."

* 5 *

Cyclops Canyon

"By setting forth the Rules in this book, we have attempted to make sense of the way Gamearth works.

"Characters must follow the Rules
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we have no choice. If travelers want to go farther than the allotted number of hexagons per day, or if magic users want to cast more than the allowable number of spells, they
cannot
.

Their feet would refuse to cross the hex-line, their spells would not work."

Even with a brisk pace, the Rules said they could cover only one hex of mountain terrain per day. No matter how fast they walked, they never reached a hex-line before nightfall. Vailret wanted to hurry, to end the quest and get back to the Stronghold and his studies, but they would have to overthrow Gairoth first. Vailret hated to be away from home
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he had so much else to do besides adventuring.

Delrael seemed to know what he was thinking and raised an eyebrow.

"There's some consolation, Vailret. Just trying to rescue Tareah could help us
save
Gamearth. If we give them a good show, the Outsiders might stay interested enough to keep Playing a while longer."

Around him the mountains in the distance were indistinct and blurry.

Though many of the plants had died in Sardun's unnatural winter, he could still see the colors of late spring. "Do you even know where we're going?"

Vailret asked.

"Sure," Delrael said, nonchalantly. "We need to get across the Spectre Mountains, then follow the mountain terrain line down toward the city of Sitnalta. No problem."

Vailret looked around. "Invisible ghosts are supposed to inhabit the Spectre Mountains, you know. No character has ever encountered the ghosts and returned alive." He paused and put a finger on his lips. "But if no one ever returned alive, then how do we know the story?"

Delrael shifted his longbow on his back. The sunlight gleamed on his oiled leather armor. "This section of the map was filled with catacombs and all kinds of wandering monsters. More likely there's a Slac fortress making off with unwary travelers."

Vailret remembered his make-believe encounter with Slac in Drodanis's role-playing game in the weapons storehouse. "Then we'll need to be even more careful."

They followed the rocky trail downhill until it disappeared completely at the sharp hex-line against forested-hill terrain. They stopped for the night. Across the line, a mixed forest of oak and pine abruptly replaced the stone crags.

The three sat around the fire sparked by Bryl's magic. They played a game of dice on a flat patch of rock, but Delrael kept winning and the others grew bored. Vailret tossed a pine cone across the hex-line. It bounced and skittered into the forest debris.

Vailret sighed. "You know, some of the old Sorcerer writings get metaphysical. I remember one that tried to explain how the hex-lines got into the world."

"How else would you have it?" Delrael shrugged. "If the landscape wasn't broken into discrete areas of terrain, the world wouldn't be very orderly, would it? It only makes sense."

Bryl yawned and looked ready to sleep.

"Well, imagine a chaotic world where grassland and forest and hills and mountains are all intermingled, no boundaries, just a constantly changing confusion."

"That's crazy," Delrael said. "It would never work. It's too unstable."

Vailret leaned back and looked at the flickering flames dancing over the wood. He thought of the message stick from Drodanis and the warning from the Rulewoman. "So, who says the Outsiders make sense?"

"Let's get some sleep," Delrael said as he stretched out on the rocky ground. Vailret looked longingly at the softer leaf-cushioned earth only a short distance away across the line. But he could not break the Rules and cross into another hex.

Delrael didn't see the Cyclops until it was almost too late.

They followed a stream that cut itself deeper into a narrow valley; the peaks of the Spectre Mountains remained visible only a hex away. Sandstone walls rose sharp on either side, eaten away by the swift water, dotted with a few valiant pine trees that somehow found rootholds. On the top rim of the gorge the forest grew thicker, dark with pine trees and splashed with the lighter color of oaks. The tall rock walls loomed above them, riddled with notches and caves.

The stream turned into rapids as icy water dashed itself against the strewn boulders. Delrael stopped at the foot of a small waterfall. He tried to follow an individual bead of water as it tripped and crashed against boulders before dropping into space. Bryl leaned forward to splash his fingers in the cool water. Delrael strode back and forth until he found an easy path that led them below the falls.

It all seemed very peaceful, with only ragged birdsong and the sounds of the stream. Delrael's hunter senses suddenly sent him a dozen alarms. He heard a guttural bellow from somewhere above, but when he craned his neck to look, the lowering sun flashed in his eyes.

"Look out! Heads up there!" a voice called from the opposite rim of the canyon.

Delrael turned his head to the cliff above them. His brown hair whipped into his eyes, but he stared in amazement for a moment. Bryl also saw and pointed frantically.

A thirty-foot-tall hulk emerged from behind a squat outcropping of rock, glaring at them with one wide yellow eye set in the center of his forehead. A horn curved up from his brow, looking like a twisted root yanked out of the ground and sharpened to a deadly point. The Cyclops roared again, exposing a jumbled set of fangs, as if someone had haphazardly hammered the teeth into his mouth.

The Cyclops strained his muscles and heaved a boulder over his head.

His fingers ended with obsidian claws that gouged white marks into the stone.

Clods of earth crumbled off the bottom of the rock, dusting the monster's shoulders.

The voice shouted again from the opposite side of the gorge. The Cyclops hurled his boulder across the canyon at the caller, but the rock fell short and plunged into the narrow stream instead.

"Run!" Delrael said, pushing Vailret ahead of him. "Get to some shelter." He smiled as he ran, though
¯
he felt his heart beating, felt his brain working. He'd wondered when they were going to start having adventures again. This section of the map had more than its share of wandering monsters, treasure-filled catacombs to explore, incidental adventures
¯
just like in the golden age of Gamearth.

As Vailret and Bryl hurried toward the canyon wall, Delrael paused to search for the source of the voice. In the lengthening shadows on the rock face, he could discern another creature, a hybrid man/animal with the body of a panther and the head and upper body of a man. The panther-man held a long sword that seemed to be carved from heavy oak wood and varnished with hardened pine pitch. The panther-man thrust the sword in a scabbard strapped to his back before he started down into the gorge, scrambling for footholds on the knobby sandstone wall.

"Don't just stand there and gawk!" Vailret shouted back at Delrael.

"Find some cover!"

The Cyclops bellowed as he uprooted another boulder.

"Oh, no," Bryl said.

Vailret's words startled Delrael, making him realize how unprotected he was on the canyon floor. He charged toward the stream. Delrael didn't care why the Cyclops had attacked them or why the panther-man was there
¯
this was an incidental adventure on their quest, and they had to play along. It wouldn't affect their main goal, but it might be amusing along the way.

Another thrown boulder crashed near Delrael. He made a running leap to dive across the stream. His boots slipped on the mud of the opposite bank, and he sprawled flat on his stomach. He struck his head against the bank. The wind gushed out of his lungs. He gasped, trying to take a breath, but his chest seemed to be locked tight.

He saw blood smeared on the palms of his hands, mud down the front of his leather armor. He hoped he had not smashed his hunting bow. He scrambled to his feet, then fell back roughly, in pain. His ankle felt as if it had been twisted full circle.
Typical!
he thought, ready to curse his luck. His ankle felt like a thunderstorm turned inside out.

The Cyclops had seen, and picked his target.

"Look out!" the panther-man cried from his perch halfway down the canyon wall. With splayed paws, he searched for a way to climb the rest of the way down.

Delrael saw the boulder coming at him. He
knew
it would hit him. Damn it, had he used all of his luck on dice games the night before? A harsh breath whistled through his teeth as he rolled to escape the rock. He saw Vailret and Bryl, but they were moving too slowly. Too slowly. Delrael thought he could hear thunder up in the sky, the sound of the Outsiders rolling their master dice.

He wrenched his body backward, twisting his chest an extra finger-width out of the path of the boulder. It crashed to the ground, spewing up earth and plowing over Delrael's left leg instead. A ton of stone crushed down, splintering bone and destroying flesh and muscle.

Delrael screamed, but then his voice fled. Horrible seconds passed before the pain mercifully shut down the connections in his brain. He floated half-conscious in a sea of exploding splotches of color and shrieking nerves.

Blood roared in his ears and spilled out of his shattered leg, making thick mud in the turf.

The Cyclops sprawled out on the rock face and lowered himself down, dropping his huge body from one jagged sandstone ledge to the next. As his obsidian claws scraped against the stone, sparks showered into the air.

Vailret and Bryl rushed to Delrael.

The panther-man leaped to the canyon floor from the last ledge and sprinted across the ground. His muscles bunched and rippled as he charged toward the descending monster.

The Cyclops dropped to the floor of the gorge and reeled to get his balance, intent on his fallen prey. The panther-man gave a loud whoop and plunged toward the Cyclops, swinging his wooden sword. Sunlight gleamed from the varnish on the blade's surface.

The panther-man slashed at his legs, and the Cyclops bellowed loud enough to shake rocks loose from the canyon walls. He fumbled with unwieldy clawed fingers, trying to grab his attacker. The panther-man sprang from side to side, weaving around the monster's bulky legs.

The brute looked up and fixed his glowing yellow eye on Delrael's motionless form. He swatted at the panther man and ignored him as he thundered toward his victim.

Vailret knelt down heavily on the muddy ground next to Delrael's mangled body. His face became the color of old cheese at the sight of all the blood, but then he turned to grab the half-Sorcerer's shoulders. "Dammit, Bryl
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use the Water Stone!"

Bryl was already grabbing the gem. "I know!" He touched the flat blue facets, rubbing his fingers along the surface of the sapphire, and then plunged his mind into the mental keyhole, unlocking the power trapped within.

He rolled the Water Stone on the ground. "Come on!" The gem came to rest with the number "4" facing up. Bryl curled his lips against his teeth.

Vailret hoped he really did know how to use the stone.

The Cyclops bellowed as a thick cloud appeared like a glove over his towering head. He tried to dodge it, to run
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but the mist followed him, covering his face and blinding him. The tip of his veined horn protruded from the cloud. Groping around in circles, the Cyclops stumbled on boulders and tripped across the stream as he staggered toward the towering sandstone cliff face. He stubbed a cabbage-sized toe on a boulder and howled, but the thickening cloud-stuff muffled the sound.

Bryl glanced at Delrael helpless on the turf with his leg mangled and bleeding. A fury of lightning bolts burst from the hanging cloud. The Cyclops yowled, launching himself forward to flee the storm
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ramming headlong into the rock face with a crunch that reverberated through the canyon.

Bryl let the cloud dissolve, and the Cyclops collapsed to the rocky ground. The monster grunted once and lay still.

Vailret stared at Delrael lying on the ground. He trembled, amazed at all the blood. Sweat made Vailret's blond hair stick to the sides of his head, but his face grew stormy with anger. He bent down to unfasten the ancient sword from Delrael's side. The injured man whimpered when Vailret moved him.

Vailret pulled the sword out of its scabbard and held it awkwardly. If he tried to use a sword in battle, the odds against him would be so great as to make it not worth the attempt. But this was not battle. The Cyclops lay unconscious. This would just be revenge. He took a determined step toward the monster.

"No. That would be needless killing." The panther man padded up to him.

"I will not let you kill even the Cyclops when it is unnecessary."