The Quillan Games

QUILLAN

Things were happening a little too fast. I hadn’t even caught my breath after having nearly been sliced into sushi, when Nevva Winter revealed to me that she had a Traveler ring. Seeing it gave me such a jolt, I think my brain momentarily froze. What was the deal? Had she taken it from Challenger Yellow after he died in the Tato match? I figured she must have, because how else would she have gotten it? Unless maybe it was her own ring, and she was the Traveler’s acolyte. Or could it be that Challenger Yellow was an acolyte, and Nevva Winter was the Traveler from Quillan? Or maybe it was none of the above. Remember what I wrote before about how great I was at handling myself under pressure? Forget it. I was stunned into a semicoma.

Luckily, Nevva Winter was cooler than I was. She looked over her shoulder to see that Veego and LaBerge were headed our way. “Meet me later, in the octagon,” she whispered.

“The what?” I asked in confusion. I must have sounded like an idiot, because at that moment, I was an idiot.

“Congratulations!” LaBerge said. “No other challenger in the history of Tock was able to figure out how to beat the game so quickly. And believe me, dozens have tried. We’ve lost many a challenger to the blades. Bravo!”

He tried to help me to my feet, but I yanked my arm away. Veego joined us and stood looking at me with her arms folded, appraising me with that superior little smirk.

“What?” I asked angrily. “Wasn’t I good enough for you?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “I am quite impressed. Apparently you have had some training. We don’t often get challengers with that much… experience.”

“Gee, wow,” I said sarcastically. “My day is complete.”

Veego kept her eyes on me but spoke to Nevva. “Miss Winter, please inform the trustees that I intend to meet their increased profit demands this quad. And be sure to thank them for bringing such a talented challenger to our attention. Challenger Red is going to become a valuable member of the Blok family.”

Blok. There was that name again.

“Thank you, Veego,” Nevva said politely. “I’m sure the trustees will be very pleased to hear of your enthusiasm.” She held out the stack of pages that she’d brought in earlier and said, “Now, if you would be so kind as to initial these pages I’ll file them with the-“

“Don’t push it,” Veego snapped harshly. “Unless you’d like to try your luck at a game of Tock yourself.”

Nevva stiffened, cleared her throat, and pulled the papers back. “Thank you, no, ” she said formally. “I’ll report back to the trustees right away.”

“You do that,” Veego said as if she couldn’t care less.

“Thank you for your time, and for the, uh, demonstration,” Nevva Winter added.

“The pleasure was all ours!” LaBerge chirped.

Nevva Winter looked at me and said, “Congratulations, Challenger Red. I will be following your career with great interest.” She looked directly at me and opened her eyes a touch wider. It was a subtle signal that acknowledged that we would talk later. She pulled the pile of papers in tight and strode quickly for the exit. I can’t tell you how badly I wanted to go with her, no matter where she was going. Any place would have been better than the castle. I was at the mercy of two sadistic psychopaths who got their kicks from making up games where people died. I needed somebody on my side. I needed help.

“Are you done torturing me?” I asked Veego, trying to sound as tired as I felt. “If I’ve got to play another one of your stupid games, you might as well just kill me now.”

“We would do no such thing! Not now!” Veego said cheerily. At least it sounded like she was being cheery. I couldn’t tell with her. “Your value has just increased dramatically. Another few matches like that and you will be ready to compete in the Grand X!”

“What exactly is a Grand X?” I asked. I didn’t care anymore if I didn’t sound like I came from that territory. I was too burned out to care about anything except lying down and getting some rest.

Veego and LaBerge gave each other a surprised look. I guess pretty much everybody knew about the Grand X. Everybody but me, that is.

“You’re tired,” LaBerge said. “Let Fourteen take you to your room.”

“No!” I snapped. “I’m not sleeping in that clown room again.”

“You don’t have to,” Veego said. “As we told you, the challengers are treated like royalty during their stay with us. Now that you’ve proven your value, you will be put in much more suitable accommodations.”

“I like the clown room!” LaBerge said, sounding hurt.

“Then you sleep in it,” I said. I saw that Fourteen was standing at the entrance to the arena. I walked away from Veego and LaBerge without saying another word and went right up to the dado. “Are you sure you’re Fourteen?” I asked. “You wouldn’t really be Thirteen and trying to mess with me, would you?”

Fourteen didn’t crack a smile. Robots didn’t have much of a sense of humor. “C’mon, robo boy,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.” I walked past him, out of the gym, and back into the banquet hall.

“Get some rest!” LaBerge called. “Big day tomorrow! It will be the best day ever!”

I ignored him. As I passed the banquet table, I grabbed a few of those tribbun things. Who knew when I would eat again? I crunched them down quickly. Fourteen caught up with me and led me on a twisting route through the castle. I could see through the windows that night had fallen. That was good. I needed sleep in the worst way. We climbed the stairs back to the second story, but didn’t head toward the corridor with the clown room, I’m happy to report.

“Isn’t that where the challengers stay?” I asked.

Fourteen spoke in a monotone voice, though it wasn’t as low and gravelly as the dado cops. Fourteen sounded more human. “Only when they first arrive,” he answered. “As their value increases, they are given more comfortable accommodations.”

I’m calling Fourteen “he.” Can a robot actually be a he? Or a she? He looked like a he, but it was a machine. The question didn’t bother me enough to want to go the next step and ask to check his parts. Machine or not, that wouldn’t have been cool.

“What about Challenger Yellow?” I asked. “Did you know him?”

“I did,” Fourteen answered.

“What was his deal?” I asked, hoping to find some clue as to why both he and I ended up as challengers. I figured the answer might point me toward Saint Dane.

“His deal?” Fourteen asked.

“Yeah, how did he end up here? As a challenger, I mean.”

“I am not involved with the decisions that are made concerning the challengers,” he answered. “I have to believe that he came here the same way all the challengers do.”

“And how’s that?” I asked. “Did he get an invitation?”

“I do not understand that question. An invitation implies there is some choice. None of the challengers are here by choice. I do not believe that anyone would accept an invitation to play the games.”

Except for me of course. But I didn’t feel like explaining that to him.

“None of the challengers are here because they want to be?” I asked. “LaBerge and Veego said it’s a great life. Better than on the outside.”

Fourteen looked at me blankly. Of course, it was probably the only look he had. “I am but a dado,” he answered. “I do not have the same concerns as you. But I do not believe a citizen would choose to be here, no matter how comfortable it may be, knowing the high price for that comfort.”

“I know, it’s dangerous. But some do well, right?” I asked. “I mean, aren’t there champions that hang around for a while and then, I don’t know, retire or something?”

Fourteen stopped walking. I think that was his way of showing confusion, dado style. “I regret to inform you of this. Challenger Red,” he said. “Challengers die. They all die. The only question is how long it can be avoided. This is your room.”

He stopped in front of a door that already had the sign challenger red on it. I stood there, letting his last comment sink in.

“They all die?” I finally asked. “Every last one?”

Fourteen didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

“Good night. Challenger Red,” he said. “I hope you have a restful evening.”

Restful evening? After having a death sentence dropped on you? Nighty night! Sleep tight! Yeah, right.

“Oh, hey, do you know where the octagon is?” I asked.

“Yes. It is a small garden across the courtyard from the front entrance to the castle,” he answered.

Wow, that was easy.

“Thanks,” I said. “Good night.” I started to open the door when-

“Remudi,” Fourteen said.

“Huh?” I said, thinking I didn’t understand him.

“Remudi,” Fourteen repeated. “I believe that was the given name of Challenger Yellow.”

Remudi. The name meant nothing and everything to me.

“He appeared to be a talented combatant,” Fourteen added. “Yet he was oddly gentle. I cannot say that of all the challengers.”

I nodded. I knew what he meant. There were a few other Travelers who fit that description.

“Remudi,” I repeated out loud. I had a name for the face.

Fourteen added, “I do not know many of the challengers’ given names. We are instructed to call them by their titles. But he was somehow different. Much like… you.”

The robot sensed that there was something different about us. About the Travelers. I was beginning to think that this dado dude actually had some feelings. Was that possible? I mean, aren’t robots dispassionate machines? Like walking toasters? At least that’s the way it worked in sci-fi stories. I couldn’t know for sure, because before coming to Quillan I hadn’t run into any real robots.

“Did you like Remudi?” I asked.

“Like is not something I am familiar with, though I understand it,” he said. “I regret that he died.”

“What happened to his body?” I asked.

“He was cremated,” Fourteen said. “The ashes were scattered. That is always the way it is done.”

I nodded. Another Traveler turned to ashes.

“If you need anything, no matter what, touch the call light inside your door,” Fourteen said. “I am assigned to you and will make your stay here as comfortable as I possibly can. Would you like me to bring you food, or drink?”

“No, I’m fine,” I said. “I just want to sleep.”

“Very well. Good night. Challenger Red.”

“Pendragon,” I said. “My name is Pendragon.”

“Pendragon,” Fourteen echoed, as if trying it on for size. He nodded and left.

I was about to enter the room, when I stopped and took a look around. The corridor was wide, with large windows that looked out onto a starry sky. Thick ornate carpets ran the length of the hall, with various sculptures and elaborate lamps lining both walls. It was strange. I was being held captive. If I followed in the footsteps of the other challengers, I would die. This place may have looked like a fancy hotel, but it was death row. Yet my door wasn’t locked. I had to believe that if I tried to leave the castle, I’d have a couple of dados on my butt firing their nasty little golden tranquilizer guns, but could I go wherever I wanted inside? As badly as I wanted to lie down and sleep for a week, my job wasn’t to be a good little challenger and rest up so I could put on a good show for the zookeepers. My job was to find Saint Dane. To do that, I first needed to find Nevva Winter.

I watched as Fourteen walked to the end of the long corridor and disappeared around a corner. I actually liked that bald little robot guy. Mostly because he said some nice things about the Traveler Remudi. But he also treated me like a human instead of a commodity. Still, he worked for Veego and LaBerge. I didn’t want to trust him and have it come back to bite me in the butt.

I walked in the opposite direction from the one Fourteen was going. The idea was to find my way down to the courtyard without running into one of those dado goons. Or a Veego or LaBerge goon, for that matter. I quietly crept along the dimly lit hallway, tuned for any sign of life.

I turned down another corridor and heard faint far-off sounds. I stopped and listened for a moment, and was surprised to realize that what I was hearing sounded like a party. It was muffled, but I definitely heard music. People were talking loudly and laughing. Not that a party is all that strange, but in this twisted death-house castle, the idea of people partying it up didn’t compute. I followed the sound. It grew louder as I got closer. It was definitely a party. I figured it was probably LaBerge getting crazy, which for him wouldn’t be a big stretch. Though I didn’t want to know what kind of people that guy would party with. Probably clowns. Who else would hang with that loser? The thought made my skin crawl.

I approached an open doorway and cautiously took a peek inside. It wasn’t LaBerge and a bunch of clowns, I’m happy to say. It was a full-fledged, raucous party of… challengers. The room looked to be a dining hall. It had long wooden tables and heavy padded chairs. There were plants and paintings and lamps that cast a warm, pleasant glow to the place. The table was heaped with food and drink. It was a feast! Servant dados scurried around, making sure that plates stayed loaded with steaming delicacies and that tankards remained filled with drink. All the servants looked exactly like Fourteen. You’d think they would at least have them wear numbers to tell them apart.

None of what I just described was as interesting as the challengers themselves. There were about twenty of them, all young, all in great shape. They weren’t all guys, either. There were just as many girls. I knew they were challengers because most wore their striped jerseys. But many had the jerseys off and wore T-shirts of the same color. They were laughing and telling stories, and clapping one another on the back and talking too loud and basically having a great time. One guy took a goblet of something and dumped it on the head of another guy. Everybody cheered and whooped like it was a frat party.

The music came from a band that was set up in the far corner. It was made up of more Fourteen clones. Dados. They played a weird tune that was kind of like rock, but had a haunting, loopy undertone. Their instruments were electronic keyboards. The band stood up and played like a regular house band, but it looked like they were standing at computers. Even the drum guy was on a computer. He was good, too. They played a dance tune with a driving beat. They may have been robots, but they could play! Yes, there was dancing. It didn’t look like any couples were together, it was more like a mosh of gyrating, sweating bodies. They were having a blast.

I didn’t get it at first. How could these guys be partying like high school kids when they were in such a bad way? I even recognized the three guys who’d tried to behead me in that gruesome game of Tock. They were dancing and shouting like everybody else. The only sign that they were any worse for wear was the blood stain on the sleeve of Challenger White.

One of the challengers leaped off the dance floor, jumped up onto the table, and held up a goblet, shouting, “To Mr. Pop!”

Everyone screamed in approval, raising their goblets and toasting. A chant started: “Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop…” They stomped on the tables and clapped their hands. The chanting reached a crescendo, everyone cheered, and the party continued.

Mr. Pop. Who was he? To the challengers he was obviously some kind of hero. Was he a challenger himself? No, that couldn’t be, because he wasn’t here, he was out in the city somewhere, hidden. The people who rescued me from the police dados were trying to protect him. The idea that I might have led the dados to Mr. Pop’s secret hiding place was horrifying to them. Whoever he was, he was being protected by people who weren’t on the same side as the dados, which meant they weren’t on the same side as Veego and LaBerge and this mysterious Blok that was run by a group of trustees. Confused? Yeah, me too. I really hoped that Nevva Winter would clear things up… right after she cleared up who the heck she was. Sheesh.

As I stood there watching the fun, the party began to make sense. These guys were under a death sentence. None of them knew how much longer they’d be around. My guess was that they needed to relieve some of the stress and enjoy what little time they had left. It felt like a victory party. Maybe they were rejoicing in the fact that three challengers made it back alive from the Tock game. Four if you counted me. On the other hand, there wasn’t a whole lot of grieving going on because a challenger had just died. Challenger Yellow. Remudi. Maybe it was because he wasn’t around long enough for anybody to get to know him. Or maybe it was because they were so used to death, grieving wasn’t a part of the equation.

Veego and LaBerge said the challengers were treated like royalty. Judging from this party, they definitely were given the chance to have some fun. These guys were taking advantage of every second of life they had, for none of them knew how long they had left.

I wasn’t in the mood for partying. I had other business. I was about to move on, when something caught my eye. A lone challenger sat at the table. He wasn’t dancing, he wasn’t laughing or telling stories. He sat alone at the end of the table… looking at me. He was the only one in the room who even knew I was there.

I caught my breath. Why did I know this guy? It took only a second to remember. Challenger Green. The champion. The record breaker. The guy who killed Remudi. Challenger Green stared at me and lifted his goblet, as if in a toast for my eyes only. In that moment it all came clear to me. I was being set up. Whatever the Grand X was, if it was as big a deal as they said it was, it would have to involve their champion. Challenger Green. If I was going to be part of it, it meant I would be competing against this guy. He was the all-time doo-da big cheese that nobody could beat. How could I possibly stand a chance against him?

I guess I should have been scared, but you know what? I wasn’t. Just the opposite. The realization actually gave me a feeling of hope. I was going to go up against the guy who killed a Traveler. I would get the chance to avenge his death. I gave the guy a small salute. He drank from his goblet, and I continued on. I knew we would be seeing each other again.

As I made my way cautiously down toward the courtyard, I found that the castle was strangely empty. Once I left the blowout challenger party, everything became eerily quiet. I wondered where Veego and LaBerge lived, but wasn’t curious enough to try to find out. It was tough enough finding my way through the dozens of twisted corridors and intersections to make it down to the courtyard. It was slow going, because I didn’t want to risk being caught. Finding Nevva was too important. So I kept to the shadows and tried to be quiet.

Finally, after twenty minutes of wrong turns and dead ends, I found a side door that led outside to the courtyard. The next part was tricky. I got my bearings by looking out on the wide space and finding the front door, where I had first entered the castle. Looking directly across from that door, I saw a wide archway that seemed to lead into a small garden. According to Fourteen that was the octagon. The trick was to get across the wide open space without being seen. I stayed along one wall, moving quickly, holding my breath. I’m not sure why I held my breath. It didn’t make me invisible. It just seemed like the thing to do. Thirty seconds later I ducked through the archway and into the octagon.

It was a pretty garden that was ringed by, you guessed it, an eight-sided wall. Three of the sections were the outer walls of the castle. The other five were built out from the castle and rose up too high to think about climbing over. It was maybe thirty yards across in all directions… big enough to hide in the trees and bushes. There were lots of flowers, a brook, small flowering trees, and some stone benches. It was the kind of place where you’d see old people hanging out to feed the ducks. The sky was full of stars that were so bright they provided plenty of light to see all this. I wondered briefly if one of them might be Second Earth. I had a quick feeling of homesickness, and forced myself to change gears. I didn’t need to be feeling sorry for myself right then.

Nevva said to meet her there “later.” When was later? An hour? Three hours? A quad? A click? I found a small bench nestled between two flowering bushes, and settled in for I didn’t know how long to wait for her.

“Hello, Pendragon,” came a voice. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

I whipped around to see Nevva standing behind the bench. Phew. “Later” meant now. Good thing. I didn’t like the idea of sitting on a hard bench for long. I was too beat.

“I can’t stay long,” she said. “I wouldn’t know how to explain to Veego and LaBerge why I’m still here.”

Nevva came across as somebody who was Г¤berefficient and buttoned up. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had “to do” lists. I was never like that. I’m more of a “wing it” kind of guy.

“You are everything Press said you would be,” she said.

“You knew my uncle?” I asked. It still surprised me to hear how Uncle Press had covered all the territories before I even knew I was a Traveler. Man, I missed him.

“Of course,” Nevva answered. “He came to Quillan a long time ago to tell me of my true destiny, and to give me this.” She pulled out the ring that dangled from her dark beaded necklace. When she spoke it was quickly and precisely. She seemed to know exactly what was going on. I, on the other hand, was floundering.

“Your true destiny,” I repeated. “What exactly is your true destiny? Who are you?”

“I’m the Traveler from Quillan of course,” she said as if she didn’t understand how I didn’t know that.

I stared at her for a long moment. I think my brain went back into the deep-freeze again. Nevva was the Traveler from Quillan. Then who was Remudi? Here I was looking for answers, and everything she said only led to more questions.

She continued, “I’ve been receiving journals from acolytes all over Halla, detailing your encounters with Saint Dane.”

“Acolytes send you journals?” I asked dumbly, trying to keep my head above water and make sense of all this.

“Yes,” she said. “Many yet to hear from your acolytes, Mark Dimond and Courtney Chetwynde.”

“I don’t think they know they’re supposed to be writing,” I said.

Are you guys writing journals? Are you communicating with other acolytes? I have no idea.

“I haven’t chosen an acolyte myself yet,” she said. “I simply haven’t had time. In fact, I may not choose one. I can operate more efficiently on my own.”

“Whoa, wait wait, slow down,” I said. “If you’re the Traveler from Quillan, wasn’t Remudi your acolyte? He had a ring, didn’t he?”

Nevva frowned. “That should never have happened. I tried to stop him from competing, but I have no power. You saw how Veego and LaBerge treat me. I am only an assistant to the trustees. Remudi was a brave and talented soldier, but he wasn’t ready to compete. I’m heartsick that we’ve lost another Traveler. Perhaps if he’d had more time…”

“What?” I shouted. “You just said that you’re the Traveler from Quillan! Was Remudi the Traveler before you?”

“No,” Nevva snapped. She sounded irked that I didn’t know the whole story, but she softened quickly. I think she finally realized that there was no way I could know the whole story. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what!” I insisted.

“Remudi was the Traveler from Ibara,” she said.

For the third time that day I stared at Nevva Winter as my brain left to go on vacation somewhere. She had just dumped a truckload of information on me that I wasn’t even close to expecting.

“Ibara?” I croaked. “That’s another territory?” “Well, of course,” Nevva said with surprise. It was if I had just said, “United States? Is that a country?”

“How did a Traveler from another territory end up here on Quillan?” I asked. “No, how did a Traveler from another territory end up dead here on Quillan?”

Before Nevva could answer, we heard a car pull into the courtyard. Nevva grabbed me and pulled me down into the bushes.

“Remudi is the least of it,” she whispered hurriedly. “There is so much to tell. You need to see it all. Quickly.” Yeah, no kidding.

“Who is Mr. Pop?” I asked. I couldn’t get the questions out fast enough. “And who are the trustees? And what is Blok?”

I heard voices coming from the courtyard. It sounded like Veego. She was barking orders to somebody.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “You will learn it all tomorrow. That’s why I needed to see you tonight, to give you this.” She handed me a small silver clip that looked like a thick staple.

“And this is…?”

“A blocking diode,” she explained. “Keep it with you, but don’t let anyone know you have it. And don’t use it unless it’s absolutely necessary. You can only use it once. After that they’ll know you have it.”

“O… kay,” I said skeptically. “It would help a little if I knew what it did.”

“Clip it onto your loop,” she said. “It blocks the signal. They won’t be able to track you.”

Oh. Cool.

“I’d rather just take the loop off,” I said. “No,” she said. “They’ll know if it’s off.” “How come you don’t have one?” I asked. “Because I don’t wager,” she answered. “And I’m not a challenger.”

I heard the sound of dado voices outside. More were arriving.

“I have to go,” Nevva said. “Don’t lose that; it might save your life.”

She didn’t have to tell me that twice. Nevva moved to leave, but I grabbed her arm.

“You can’t leave!” I said. “I have to know what’s going on! A Traveler is dead!”

“You will,” she said. “It would take too long to explain now, and if I’m caught, two more might join him.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“All right,” I said with resignation. “Let’s hope I don’t get killed before then.”

“You won’t be,” she said. “Just do as they say and you will be fine.”

Nevva started away again, and I said, “Wait, you gotta tell me one thing. Have you found Saint Dane? Why did he leave these challenger clothes at the flume?”

“He didn’t,” Nevva said. “I did.”

With that, she was gone.

(CONTINUED)