The Barsoom Project

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 right.

The shadows of the tilted slabs offered shelter from prying, inhuman eyes, but not enough to make Max comfortable.

They had lost two! That realization hit him hard. They had been living in a fool’s paradise. Death waited around every corner…

The island fortress had the appearance of a city partially destroyed by an earthquake. Great slabs of rubble lay toppled everywhere. He had the disturbing impression that a gigantic, insane child had striven to build a city, and then, tired of its accomplishment, had destroyed it in a fit of pique.

And there were… things moving in the rubble. Things that had no analog in the world that he knew, creatures grotesque beyond his imaginings. Creatures on the hunt.

He didn’t have to be told what they were hunting for.

Johnny Welsh crawled up through the shadow to crouch next to Max. They were in an enclave formed by the shadow of two slabs joined together in a steeple shape. From their perch they could look down on the Cabal’s meeting place.

The cave was ringed with broken statuary. Once again, the statues seemed not of Inuit derivation. They portrayed strange, alien shapes, hideous shapes, and Max felt a little ill just examining them from a distance.

But there was worse going on down there. Although the line of shambling Eskimo zombies had disappeared, a ceremony continued in full swing. They could hear it, and through the dark, heavily veined chanting, they could hear a familiar voice screaming in agony.

“That’s Robin,” Johnny said. “They’ve got him, and I don’t know what the hell they’re doing with him, but we’ve got to stop them.”

Just ahead of Max, Yarnall agreed. “All right. Now listen-I think we can work our way around above the place they’ve taken Robin.” He pointed. “See that stream of smoke? I think there’s a vent hole there. We can spy.”

“Let’s be careful,” Max said. “That terrain looks rough. Last thing in the world we need is a twisted ankle.”

The three of them crawled backward along the narrow tunnel until they’d reached the other Adventurers. “All right,” Yarnall said. He scanned each anxious face in turn. “We have to mount a rescue operation for Robin. We’ve got to work our way to the other side of the clearing. I need volunteers.”

Charlene raised her hand, and then Hippogryph, and Max. Eviane’s shot up an instant later.

“All right. Here’s the plan-”

“Ah-just a second, Yarnall,” Hebert interjected. “Who died and made you king?”

“If you’ve got a plan, now would be a terrific time to share it.” Yarnall was smiling indulgently. “Otherwise, I would suggest that we proceed.”

Hebert reluctantly agreed.

Yarnall was warming to his task. “All right. Two groups. Volunteer group, how are you at climbing?”

Charlene was most enthusiastic. “I can do that. I’ve been feeling stronger every day.”