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D. J. MacHale

The Quillan Games

QUILLAN

I like to play games.

Always have. It doesn’t matter if it’s a simple game of checkers or something more brainy, like chess. I like board games like Stratego or Risk, and pretty much every team sport that exists. I like playing computer games and card games and charades and Scrabble, and when I was a kid, I was known to play a killer game of red rover. I like to win, too. Doesn’t everybody? But I’m not one of those guys who has to win constantly or I get all cranky. Why bother? When I lose, I’ll be upset for about half a second, then move on. For me, playing a game is all about the fun of the contest and seeing the best player win, whoever that may be.

At least that’s the way I used to think.

What I found here on the territory of Quillan is that games are a very big part of the culture. All kinds of games. So given the fact that I like games so much, you’d think hanging out here would be pretty cool, right?

Wrong. Really, really wrong. Games are about being challenged and plotting and developing skills and finding strategy and having fun. That’s all true on Quillan… except for the fun part. There’s nothing fun about what goes on here. On this territory games are deadly serious. When you play on Quillan, you had better win, because the price of defeat is too high. I’ve seen what happens when people lose. It’s not pretty. Or fun. I’m only beginning to learn about this new and strange territory, but there’s one thing that’s already been seared into my brain: Whatever happens, don’t lose. It’s as simple as that. Do not lose. Better advice would be to not play at all, but that doesn’t seem to be an option here on Quillan. When you live here, you play.

As ominous as that sounds, I’ve got to accept it because I know these games will somehow factor into the battle against Saint Dane. He’s here. This is the next territory he’s after. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. He sent me a big-old invitation. I already told you about that in my last journal. But there’s more-something I didn’t write last time. You see, another Traveler was here before me. I’m not talking about the Traveler from Quillan. I mean someone from another territory. I don’t want to tell you much more about it until I reach that point in this journal. My story should play out on these pages as it happened. The way I saw it. But I will say this much: I’m angry. Angrier than I’ve ever been since becoming a Traveler. If Saint Dane thinks challenging me to playing games is the best way to bring down Quillan, he’s in for a big surprise. He picked the wrong battleground, because I like to play games. I’m good. And I’m mad. Bring it on.

Mark, Courtney, the last time I wrote to you guys was from a fairytale-like castle here on Quillan. There was way more I wanted to write in that journal, but I didn’t think I had the time to get it all down. Besides, the information I gave you in my last journal was pretty intense all by itself. I needed to write all of that down while it was still fresh in my memory. I’m not sure why I was so worried. There’s no chance I could ever forget what happened during my last few minutes on Zadaa. No matter how many different ways I look at it, or try to understand it, or search for a reasonable explanation for what happened, I keep coming back to the same undeniable fact: