Ikoria

by Wizards of the Coast

  Beyond the Second Ring was the secondary wall, an unimpressive name for a truly imposing fortification. It was twenty feet high, broad enough for four men to walk side by side, faced with smooth stone tiles that offered no purchase to claws or talons. In addition to the warning crystals on their high stone minarets, there were turreted ballistae at regular intervals, with their huge, barbed bolts and coils of chain stacked beside them. Patrols were constant, not just ordinary Coppercoats but heavily-armored lancers and mages from the Arcane Corps. The gates were open, a steady stream of carts and other traffic leaving the city, but Lukka knew a spring-loaded counterweight mechanism could slam the massive doors shut in seconds.

  The First Ring had once been the entirety of Drannith’s domain, all the city had been able to protect from the monsters that besieged it. Now it had largely been taken over by sprawling military complexes. Rows of barracks, training fields, and administration buildings spread out between the secondary wall and the city proper, dedicated to instructing and equipping the next generation of Coppercoats. There was industry here, too, forges and foundries, workshops and centers for arcane research.

  Looming over all of it was the city wall, the pride of generations of engineers. Since the moment the first stone had been laid, back in the misty depths of the city’s history, it had never been breached. No matter what monsters came down from the plain, what monstrosities Ikoria sent against it, Drannith the Invincible had persevered, prospering where other sanctuaries had fallen in fire and blood. The stone battlements, bristling with ballistae and other heavy weapons, wreathed in protective magic, rose up over the First Ring like a cliff of stone, barely conceivable as something built by human hands.

  And beyond that, of course, was the city itself. Lukka’s beloved Drannith, with its crystal-topped spires, its straight-backed radial bridges, its winding markets and hole-in-the-wall restaurants and unexpected parks. An oasis of safety at the center of a dangerous world. In the middle of it all was the Citadel, built around the huge shape of the Argalith, the largest crystal ever discovered in Savai. It was the lynchpin of the city’s defense—by studying the flickers in its depths, Coppercoat mages could track the monsters as they approached and direct their resources accordingly.

  It also happened to be the home of the most beautiful woman in the world. Lukka smiled wider and quickened his steps.

  ***

  The most beautiful woman in the world glared at him over the top of her half-moon spectacles.

  “Would you please take this seriously, Lukka?”

  “I am!” Lukka protested. “I told you–”

  Jirina looked down at the paper on her desk. “ ‘It was big and black and wriggled out of a net.’ I think a captain of the Specials can be a bit more informative than that.”

  “It was a nightmare, you know what they’re like. Lots of red eyes, lots of spikes, sort of…off-putting.” Lukka flopped into one of the office chairs. “What does it matter?”

  “Collecting data is one of the keys to our defense,” Jirina said, pen scratching.

  “I’m pretty sure the key to our defense is getting out there and killing the bloody things.”

  “As long as we know how to kill them. And where they’re coming from, and what they like to eat, and the scents that attract them–”

  “All right!” Lukka held up his hands in surrender. “It’s important. I get it. But won’t they tell you all about the thing when they butcher it?”

  “I have to make a presentation to the general before that,” Jirina said. She glanced at a clock on the office wall and made a face. “In fact, I ought to be getting ready for that.”

  She pushed her chair back from her desk and stood up. Tall and slim, with dark skin and black hair primly bound back, Jirina never failed to take Lukka’s breath away, even in the unflattering cut of a formal uniform. He got up as well and intercepted her as she made for the door.

  “That’s it?” he said, grinning at her. “You’re not happy to see me?”

  “Of course I’m happy to see you.” Jirina paused in front of him, her expression softening a little. “I’m always happy to see you, Lukka. I’m glad you’re okay. Right now is just…” She shook her head and dug her fingers in her hair. “You know the general.”

  “I do know the general,” Lukka said. “Let me guess. You’re going to be sitting in a row of forty other officers, and you’ll stand up for two minutes, tell them everything’s fine, and sit back down while they argue for an hour about grain allocations.”

  “Probably.” Jirina watched him out of the corner of her eye. “So?”

  Lukka slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Jirina leaned against him, her weight warm and comforting. He propped his chin on her shoulder.

  “So skip it,” he said. “You know you want to.”

  “The general–”

  “I think he’ll forgive you.” Lukka pressed his lips to Jirina’s neck and felt her shiver. “What’s the point of being having the most powerful man in Drannith for a father if you don’t get to skip class once in a while?”

  “You’re impossible,” Jirina said. But she didn’t pull away as Lukka kissed his way up her neck towards her ear. “And I assume you have an alternative in mind?”

  “I have four days of leave,” Lukka said. “I can tell you how I’d like to spend them.”

  “Lukka…”

  Lukka pulled her a little tighter against him. “Besides, I got you a present: bloodwine, the real stuff.”

  “Where did you find that?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Probably not.” She sighed. “I suppose Lieutenant Seycho can deliver the report.”

  “Absolutely,” Lukka murmured, sliding his hands along her flanks. “I have absolute faith in Lieutenant Whatshisname.”

  Jirina took firm hold of Lukka’s wandering hands and pulled them apart. “Not in the office, Lukka.”

  “Then let’s get out of the office, shall we?”

  She gave him a stern look. Then her real smile broke through, the smile he’d fallen in love with, broad and genuine and just a little mischievous. It was hard to find, some days, under the armor plating of Captain Jirina, daughter of the great General Kudro, but it was always there, somewhere beneath.

  “You’d better not be teasing about the bloodwine,” she said.

  Lukka put his hand over his heart in a mock salute. “Never.”

  ***

  Jirina’s rooms in the Citadel were a compromise between her official rank and her unofficial position. As a mere staff captain, she rated only a simple two-room suite, not much more space than Lukka had down in the barracks. Because she was the daughter of General Kudro, commander of the Drannith’s entire military, that two-room suite was on the top floor of the Citadel, with broad windows looking out over the city, instead of buried in the depths of the great fortress with only candles for light.

  She also had a nice big bed instead of Lukka’s narrow cot. Not that they’d never managed in the cot, of course, but having room to stretch out made for a much more pleasant night’s sleep. Now, Lukka opened his eyes and yawned, watching the lines of sunlight sneaking past the blinds cut across the floor and savoring the unaccustomed feeling of waking up long after dawn.

  Jirina lay naked beside him, having kicked the sheets to the foot of the bed in her sleep as she nearly always did. She was on her stomach, face squashed against her pillow, brow creased as though deep in thought. He wanted to run a hand down the deep brown curve of her flank, to run his fingers across the taut muscles of her back, but he restrained himself. She deserves to sleep in as much as I do.

  Instead, he got up and wandered into the sitting room, looking for something to drink. The bottle of bloodwine lay toppled over on the table, trailing a trickle of dark red. Lukka found a mug and a pitcher, poured himself some water, and ret
urned to bed to find Jirina sitting up and stretching. Her hair, released from its braid, fell loose and disheveled across her shoulders.

  “Here,” Lukka said, handing her the cup. She drank appreciatively and handed it back. “How do you feel?”

  “Not nearly as hung over as I ought to be,” Jirina said.

  “Told you it was the real stuff,” Lukka said. His own head throbbed, but only a little. “With the best bloodwine, you can drink all night and hardly feel it in the morning.”

  Jirina smiled crookedly, then eyed the sunlight creeping across the floor. “My father’s going to be annoyed when he finds out.”

  “He agreed to let us get engaged,” Lukka said. “So he has only himself to blame.”

  “I didn’t give him much of a choice,” Jirina said.

  “You never told me how you got him to give in.”

  “Persistence,” Jirina said, with another smile.

  “Even your father must take days off, now and then.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Jirina said. “He says the monsters never do.”

  That did sound like General Kudro, Lukka had to agree. The man seemed to be made out of iron, an automaton beyond merely human frailties. It was hard to imagine how he’d ended up with a daughter, in truth, hard to picture him unbending long enough to fall in love and be a father. Maybe he’s gotten harder over the years. Neither Jirina nor the General talked about Jirina’s mother, and all Lukka knew was that she’d died long ago.

  “Well,” he said, skating over the awkward moment. “Fortunately, you and I aren’t solely responsible for defending Drannith from the ravening hordes. I think the rest of the Coppercoats can pick up the slack for a couple of days.”

  “I don’t know, Lukka,” Jirina said with a sigh. “I should at least check in. There might be something–”

  There was a sharp rap at the sitting room door. Lukka and Jirina looked at one another and finished together.

  “Important.”

  ***

  The First Specials were not happy at having their bender interrupted and told Lukka so as soon as he entered the small briefing room.

  “Four days, Captain,” Nik fulminated. “You told us four days! You can’t drag us out now. That’s worse than when a bouncer yanks you out of the bar before you’ve got properly drunk.”

  “You know that doesn’t happen if you pay your tab,” Gedra said.

  “What would you know about paying your tab?” said Gox.

  “We always arm-wrestle for it, fair and square,” Gedra said, grinning at her twin. “It’s not my fault you’re a wimp.”

  “Squad reporting as ordered,” Epha said. Her eyes were bloodshot, but her back was still straight and her salute was crisp.

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” Lukka cleared his throat and raised his voice. “That’s enough moaning. This one’s hot and we’re already behind.” He pointed to the table, where a map was laid out. “Something flew into the Second Ring last night. It went to ground after dodging a few ballista bolts and holed up in a small farmstead. Sector command sent twenty swords in after it, and only two of them came back.”

  That quieted everyone down. Epha raised her hand, and Lukka nodded to her.

  “Did those two have anything to say about what we’re dealing with?”

  “Definitely a cat,” Lukka said. “A big one, and a flyer, obviously. Nothing beyond that. They’ve been keeping eyes on the farm from the wall, and it hasn’t gone anywhere.”

  “Probably gorging,” Nik said. “Cats love to eat one big meal and then spend days sleeping it off.”

  “Whatever it’s doing, we’re going in after it,” Lukka said. “Meet at the Citadel gate in a quarter of an hour, with all your gear.”

  He had to give them credit. Hangovers or not, they did as they were ordered, and the First Specials headed out no more than twenty minutes later, taking one of the elevated bridges built to help the military bypass crowded city streets. By noon they were through the gate in the secondary wall and into the Second Ring, taking a curving path that forked off from the main highway and ran between rippling fields of late-summer grain.

  “What’s our approach, Captain?” Epha said.

  “Close-up again,” Lukka said. “Has to be.”

  This time, not even Nik put in her usual objection. The sniper might prefer to engage at long range, but that was too dangerous with flyers. Give it the opportunity to get airborne, and there’s no telling what it might do. Trying to pin down a swooping, clawing monster was bad enough; too many creatures could spit acid, breathe fire, throw spikes, or otherwise threaten from beyond sword’s reach. Better to start up close and keep it that way.

  “There’s the farm,” Gedra said. “Looks intact from here.”

  “I don’t like it,” Gox muttered. “Even a big cat will have a lot of places to hide.”

  Lukka nodded in agreement. The farmstead coming into view comprised three buildings: a two-story house, squat and thick-walled with heavily shuttered windows, plus a long, covered processing area and a tall, slate-roofed barn. All three were large enough to conceal a monster, and the grain was tall enough that it could conceivably be hiding almost anywhere.

  “Blades out,” Lukka said. “Stay behind me.”

  The road widened, joining the wide circle of churned dirt that surrounded the farmstead’s buildings. A farm cart lay on its side in front of the barn, with a dead horse still tangled in its traces, its blood pooled in a muddy slick. Coppercoat bodies dotted the ground, torn open or curled up around the wounds that had killed them. Here and there a ripped uniform flapped as the wind tugged at it, but otherwise the yard was still.

  No, Lukka thought, I don’t like it one bit. Go in there, and it was more than likely the monster would ambush them, instead of the other way around. We’ve got to get it in the open, on our terms. He glanced over his shoulder. Not much cover, though.

  “All right,” he said aloud. “Epha, do you have enough tripwire to cover the gap between the shed and the barn?”

  The sergeant nodded. “It’ll be thinner, but I can do it.”

  “We’ll be a little more spread out than usual, but it’ll have to do. Gedra, Gox, you take cover there.” He indicated the near walls of the two buildings, which faced one another across the corpse-strewn yard. “Nik, can you manage in the grain?”

  “If I lie down,” Nik said. “It’ll give me a good shot, but reloading is going to be slow.”

  “If you’re as good as usual, we won’t need more than one,” Lukka said. “I’ll be right about here”—he stamped his foot in the dirt—“so try not to hit me.”

  “No promises, Captain,” Nik said. She grinned, but it faded when she looked back at the dead Coppercoats. “Let’s slaughter this thing and get home.”

  Epha was already setting up her traps. Nik cranked her crossbow and nocked a bolt, covering the sergeant while she worked, while Gedra and Gox crouched against the walls of the outbuildings. There was still no movement in the yard, no sign that the creature had noticed them. Hopefully Gedra’s right, and it’s sleeping off a big meal. That would make it slower, and Lukka was happy to accept any advantage.

  After a few minutes, Epha gave him a thumbs up, then picked her way through the tripwires to join him. She rooted through her pack and came up with a jar of greenish liquid.

  “This one’s brand new,” she said. “Research guarantees no cat can resist it.”

  “Let’s see if they know what they’re talking about,” Lukka said. He unscrewed the top of the jar and winced at the sharp scent that emerged. “Get to cover.”

  Epha saluted and scurried over to crouch beside Gedra. Lukka looked over the corpse-strewn field, rubbed his knuckles on the hilt of his sword, and waited.

  ***

  “Well,” Gox muttered, “I guess this settles whether Research knows what they’re
talking about.”

  “Quiet,” Lukka hissed.

  The air was full of the rank scent of the bait. It had to have diffused all over the farmstead by now, but they’d been waiting nearly an hour and there was no sign of the monster.

  Maybe it really is asleep. That would be inconvenient—if they went inside looking for it and ended up in a fight in close quarters, somebody was going to get killed. It’ll have to come out eventually. Or…

  He stretched, shoulder popping, then froze. There had been a soft noise, down at the edge of hearing—a scrape, claw against wood. Nothing had moved, but…

  “Stay sharp,” Lukka muttered. “I think it’s close.”

  The wall beside Gox shattered. Unlike the fortified farmhouse, the shed was made of flimsy boards, which burst outward in a splintery crash as the monster’s paw came through. It was enormous, bigger than a man’s head, with foot-long claws extended. Gox had time to give a startled yelp as it raked him across the midsection, the razor tips of its talons slicing easily through leather, skin, and muscle. Gox dropped to his knees, clutching at the wound, skeins of shredded guts slipping past his fingers in a torrent of blood.

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Gedra screamed an oath and drew her sword, and Lukka went for his own weapon. The monster’s paw withdrew, and there was a warning creak of wood. Then it exploded through the roof of the processing shed in a single prodigious leap.

  The thing was huge, half again the size of the nightmare they’d killed two nights before, easily taller than Lukka and longer than a cart. Its basic form was cat-like, with thick white fur cut by light brown stripes, forelegs and muzzle spattered with blood. Fangs glistened in its gaping mouth, including two long incisors that protruded beyond its lower lip like a pair of swords. At the top of its leap, it snapped open leathery wings, gliding easily in spite of its size.

  It aimed itself right at Gedra and Epha. Gedra had her hooked greatsword out and drew back for a swing as the thing closed. At the last moment, though, it pulled its wings in and dove, and the massive blade whistled over its head. Before Gedra could recover, it pounced, forepaws slamming into her chest and knocking her to the ground. Her scream cut off abruptly as the monster closed its jaw on her throat and tore, unleashing a spray of blood.