Snow Goose’s body arched, and in her furs she seemed not even human, but suddenly and spectacularly Her form momentarily shifted. He saw it, saw the flicker of change. She was flowing, changing, the furs transformed for an instant into white feathers. Her neck was long and elegant, and when she stretched out her arms, she seemed almost to hover, her feet not touching the ground. He felt that trilling again. The torches flickered, and the shadows on the wall took on lives of their own, became the shadows of animals. In that moment the Gamers saw their animal totems in shadow form or sharp relief. Here was a seal, there a walrus, there a great eagle, dark wings stretching and folding, and there, and there And Snow Goose, human again, collapsed onto the ground, foaming, convulsing, hips and shoulders slamming against the ground again and again as if electric shocks were coursing through her.
And then she was still.
For a moment there was no sound.
Max rolled over slowly, examining each round, sweat-streaked face in turn.
Were these really the same people who had been pulled into a Game in an airline terminal a few days before? They looked so different, huddled here in the darkness, protected from the shadows by the flickering of oily torches, faces smudged with smoke and oiled with sweat, eyes that had seen death and destruction, the end of one world and the opening of another.
Snow Goose rose to her feet. She was panting, heaving. “Damn,” she said. “I never believed… ” Max looked at himself. The red was faded, almost gone, and as he watched, it winked out.
“Rise,” Snow Goose said. “You are healed.”
Chapter Thirty
As Max sat up groggily, Eviane threw her arms around him and squeezed until she could hardly breathe.
It didn’t matter that the others laughed. Their little party of ten was almost alone in the world. The survivors would inevitably pair off for mating. She was staking out her territory now, and any woman who trifled with Max was going to be sorrier than she could believe.
Orson and Charlene roused muzzily, and shared a brief, intense hug. Hippogryph’s face darkened. Evidently he didn’t like that much.
She didn’t blame him. She’d seen the way Hippogryph stayed next to Charlene, a subtle but effective barrier between the Moon Maid and the rest since the beginning. He seemed to consider anyone, including Eviane, a potential threat to her. Frankly, she hoped that Orson was slipping into what Hippogryph had considered exclusive territory. Serve him right.
Her man stood, once again strong and firm. It was good to know that Eskimo white magic was as powerful as the dark variety. There were not only evil forces, but forces of light and warmth in this strange new world. It was comforting…
“Hey! Look here!” Hebert cried excitedly. In a corner of the cave, hitherto unnoticed, were what seemed to be a pile of rags and a small stack of boxes.
A quick and feverish inspection revealed the grim truth: the rags were what remained of an Eskimo expedition. Under the rags were human bones, gnawed and broken.
“Jesus Christ,” Orson said. “They must have made a last stand here, been attacked by some of these creatures.”
Max looked at the boxes. They were marked flare grenades. “I’d think we could make use of these..
“And these!” Hebert said. There was a cache of survival chocolate in one of the boxes. Hebert grabbed a handful, peeled wrappers with his teeth, and began to chow down.
“Ah… maybe you’d better go easy on those,” Trianna said nervously.
“Hey. You wait for a bowl of fruit to show up.”
Orson began to inspect the wall carvings. “You know,” he said, “there’s something about these drawings that bugs the hell out of me. I’m not totally sure what it is… Maybe it isn’t anything important, but I think that I’ve seen them somewhere before.”
Charlene stood next to him, six inches taller. “These don’t look like Eskimos.”
“No, not a whole lot. These other things don’t look like any beasties we’ve seen so far.”
The creatures were vaguely star-shaped or octopus-headed. One image set the creature next to what might have been… a brontosaurus?
The creature stood a head higher.
Eviane felt awful pressure behind her eyes, and fought against the darkness. There was an image of an enormous door opening. Something lurked behind it, something unspeakably large and horribly alien.
“Are you all right, hon?” Max said.
She leaned back into him, let him wrap his arms around her. For a moment she lost herself, had the sensation of floating above her own head, watching as she was cuddled safe in the strong arms of a man who cared for her. Some tense, knotted part of her began to relax.
After all, it’s just a Game…
Her head nodded to her. Just a Game…
Thank you, Michelle.
“There’s that Michelle again,” Max said. “Who is this lady?”
“Who? I…” She thought for a moment, then disentangled herself from his arms. “I didn’t realize I was talking. I’m sorry.” She touched her lips to his, and went over to talk with Charlene.
The moon woman rolled her shoulders, and twisted the slender bone-sword around and around in her grip, experimenting with different positions. “Hi,” she said without looking around.
Hippogryph was bristling. Eviane laughed inwardly. What kind of name was Hippogryph, anyway? “We might not get another chance to talk,” she said to Charlene.
“I know that we’re close to the end,” Charlene said. “We haven’t spent much time together. You look like you’ve been enjoying yourself, though.”
“Charlene, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, anything.”
“I know that we knew each other, knew each other somehow before this all happened. But I’m not sure how. I just don’t know.”
Now Charlene turned around. “Boy, you really get into it, don’t you?”
Eviane tried to smile, but the strain was too much. “Please. I know that it sounds strange. Humor me. Maybe I took a little bump back there in the fight. A little amnesia?”
Charlene was ready to laugh again. “You know, I don’t know whether to take you seriously or not, Eviane. You’ve gotten so deeply into the Game.”
Eviane raised a hand. “The Game. I keep hearing everyone talking about the Game. I… need to know what you mean by that.”
“I mean-the whole Fimbulwinter Game,” Charlene said, mystified. “All of this, you know. Monsters. Eskimos. Fighting. Talking swordfish steaks and butterfly-eating ghosts.” Charlene was looking worried now. “It’s a commercial product. Or you could say we’re dreaming somebody else’s dream.”
“Somebody else’s dream.” Something in Eviane’s mind relaxed for a moment. For just that moment, everything seemed clear: it was all a Game, and Charlene was her friend, and they were all in a place called Dream…
Dream Park?
The mists closed in again, but this time they left her feeling unaccountably calm and centered. She stood, brushed herself off in a businesslike fashion, and said, “Well, shall we get on with it?”
“Sure,” Charlene said. She tried to keep her face sober, but another grin broke out. “You know, you’ve really made my vacation.”
Impulsively, Eviane bent over and gave her friend Charlene a quick, affectionate peck on the cheek. It felt
