D. MacHale - The Quillan Games

Well, it was. I felt as though at any moment I’d get thrown into another one of their wicked games. Like with that Hook game, I feared that whenever I turned a corner or walked by a closed door, I’d be rudely sucked in and my life would be on the line. It’s not a good way to live. The challenger party I saw was making all sorts of sense to me. They were blowing off steam and believe me, no matter how sweet the place was, steam built up. It was like being on death row, not knowing when the executioner would come knocking at your door.

I guess it shouldn’t have felt all that odd to me. In many ways it was exactly how I’d been living my life for nearly three years. Ever since I left home with Uncle Press, I’ve had to live with the fact that any moment might be my last. Usually there’s so much going on that I don’t think about it, which is a good thing. I’d have gone out of my mind long ago.

But hanging around that castle, bored, wondering where Nevva was, and waiting for something to happen-man, it was slowly driving me insane. Bored and scared aren’t a good combination. When you’re bored, your mind wanders. I ended up worrying about things that I normally try not to stress about. I guess on the top of the list was the constant question of how I ended up here. I’m not talking about Quillan. I mean the whole Traveler gig in general. Why me? How come I was the lucky one who got to be the lead Traveler and match wits with Saint Dane? I’m not proud to admit this, but lately when my mind goes there, I get angry. Where before I’d been confused, frustrated, and scared, I now had to add anger to that list. I’m not even sure who to be angry at, which makes me even angrier! Who put me in this spot? Uncle Press? He definitely started me on the journey, but was it his choice to make me the lead Traveler? Or was he just following orders? That’s the big question. Who started this whole thing? Gunny’s theory is that there’s some big cheese out there who selected the Travelers and is running the show. I guess that’s possible, but I have no idea who it might be or how it could work.

I’ve wondered about all this for a long time, of course, but like I said, lately the thought has been making me mad. Sure, I know that stopping Saint Dane is huge. There’s no question. But who the hell is he? How did he get those powers? Where is he from? Since it’s my job to stop him, I think I deserve some answers. Right? Am I being unreasonable? I put my life in danger every day, but nobody has explained any of these things to me. I think that’s just wrong, and it’s starting to piss me off.

What if I decided to give up? I could do it, you know. I could jump into the flume, head home to Second Earth, and never look back. I could start a new life. I’ve learned enough about getting along to do that. What would happen if I did? If I’m really as important as everybody seems to think, then maybe I’d force somebody’s hand so they’d have to step up and give me some answers. I’ve thought a lot about doing that. I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s time to start playing a little hardball and force the issue.

Those are the kinds of thoughts that bounced around in my head while I was hanging out in that castle waiting for… something. The more I thought about them, the more worked up I would get, and I’d have to calm myself down and focus on reality. As much as I’d like to, I can’t go home. Saint Dane cannot be left to do whatever he wants, no matter how unfair it is to me or how angry I get. The only thing I can do is not let it get to me. Being angry doesn’t help. It only makes me feel bad. I have to put those feelings aside, now and forever. That was the way it was meant to be, whether I like it or not.

Thanks for letting me vent, by the way.

To keep my mind off things while I waited for Nevva to come back, I spent a lot of time working out. That’s a great way to burn off energy… and anger. I’d go for runs through the dense forest around the castle. A few times I got as far as the high wall that surrounded the place. But whenever I got too close, a couple of those goon dados would appear from out of nowhere and stare at me as if to say, “Don’t even think about it, red boy.”

The castle had a pretty cool gym, too. I worked out with free-weights and did stretching and even worked out on a couple of odd machines where the base moved and rubber arms swung at you. It was a device to help build agility and reflexes. It was fun, once I got the hang of it and stopped getting thwacked in the head, that is. I was in pretty good shape too, I’m proud to say. The training that Loor and Alder gave me on Zadaa had stuck. No, better, I built on it. I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I was getting pretty confident in my abilities as a warrior. That sounds so weird to say. Warrior. I’m still Bobby, and if I had the choice, I’d never raise a weapon again. But I know as long as I am a Traveler, I have to. Given that, I was pretty confident that I could handle myself in most any situation. Though it was kind of chilling to realize the reason they had all this gym stuff was to keep the challengers in peak physical condition, so they could put on a good show while trying to kill one another. That kind of took the edge off the “fun” part.

I tried to meet the other challengers, but that wasn’t easy. They mostly kept to themselves. I’d pass one in the corridor of the castle and try to start a conversation, but they would just nod and keep moving. I guess you’d call it a polite blow off. I asked Fourteen about it. He came for a run with me one day, and I took the opportunity to pump him for some information.

“I don’t get the other challengers,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Fourteen said. It bugged me that he wasn’t short of breath, even after running for a couple of miles. I was pushing it, getting my heart rate up and building a sweat. Fourteen cruised along calmly like he wasn’t being stressed at all. Which he wasn’t. He was a robot. Duh. Still, it bugged me.

“We’re all in this together,” I said. “You’d think they’d like to open up a little bit, I mean, if only to complain.”

“I cannot say for sure,” Fourteen said. “But from what I have heard, they do not wish to know their opponents. They fear it would be difficult if they entered into a friendship with someone they might have to kill.”

Oh. I guess that made sense. It was scary, but made sense.

“Where do most of them come from?” I asked. “From the city? What’s it called? Rune?”

“Some do,” Fourteen answered. “But Veego spreads her net wide in looking for worthy competitors.”

“How does she get them to come here if they know it means death?” I asked.

“They do not have a choice,” Fourteen said. “Once a candidate is found, dados are sent to retrieve them.”

“Retrieve,” I repeated. “Like cattle being rounded up for slaughter.”

“I do not know what that means,” Fourteen said.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said quickly. “So they come here and train and get chosen for events and as long as they win, they stay alive.”

“That describes it,” Fourteen said. “We try to make them as comfortable as possible during their final days.”

“And what do the challengers get in return?” I asked. “Besides death?”

“Their families are paid a handsome sum when they win,” Fourteen answered.

“And if they lose?”

Fourteen hesitated, then he said softly, “Their families are given the ashes.”

Life on Quillan was turning out to be cruel.

“So what about the party?” I asked. “If the challengers don’t hang out with one another, what about the party I saw the other night?”

“That is an exception,” the dado answered. ‘After a competition there is always a celebration. Like a reward. It is the one time that the challengers socialize with one another, though they never discuss the games. They talk about their former lives and their homes and families, but never about the games. For that very short time they allow themselves to be… how would you put it? Normal.”