“So what are you suggesting?” Barrow said.
“If we work together, we might be able to reach the Ozolith,” Lukka said. “And then…put a stop to this, somehow.”
“Somehow?” Abda raised an eyebrow. “That’s not much of a plan.”
“May I add something, then?”
Vivien stepped forward and bowed deeply. Abda looked at her skeptically, then glanced at Lukka.
“She’s not one of us,” Abda said. “She your girlfriend or something?”
“We have been working together,” Vivien said. “I am not a ‘bonder’, not in the sense that you three are. I am…a stranger to this place.”
“To which place?” Barrow inquired. “The plains?”
“To your world,” Vivien said. “To Ikoria.” She looked at Lukka and inclined her head. “I apologize for not telling you the truth.”
“You’re not from our…world?” Lukka said.
“What world are you from, then?” Brin said. “Are you from the moon?”
“No,” Vivien said with a chuckle. “I am a Planeswalker. I can step between realities.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Abda snorted.
“Nor have I,” Barrow said, apologetically.
“Research always insisted that other worlds were possible,” Lukka said slowly. “And there are legends in Drannith of…strangers. But we always assumed they were just stories.”
“I do not know if your legends are true,” Vivien said. “But other worlds exist, as do Planeswalkers, and I am not the only one to travel here. I came here to study your world, as I told you, but also because I feared another of my kind had gotten here first. I have not known him long, but it is in his nature to…meddle.”
“Meddle,” Abda said flatly.
“Yes.” Vivien sighed. “I fear the change in the Ozolith is his doing. If it is, I will undo whatever damage he has caused.”
“Why?” Barrow said. “Is he your enemy?”
“My reasons are my own,” Vivien said. There was a flicker of emotion in her normally calm demeanor. “But trust me when I say it will benefit you and everyone on your world. If you help me reach the Ozolith, I can help return it to its natural state.”
There was a long silence. Lukka founded himself holding his breath.
“Well,” Abda said eventually, “it’s a better plan than ‘maybe we’ll think of something.’ But I’m not sure I buy any of this.”
“I buy it,” Brin said. “If the monsters stay in the wild and don’t bother Drannith, it’s better for everyone, right?”
“Monsters attacked Drannith before all this happened,” Abda said.
“But only the mean ones,” Brin said. “Lukka’s monster told Rol that it didn’t want to hurt the humans, but something made it.”
“Zeph has communicated something similar to me,” Barrow said. “He strongly believes we should attempt to reach the Ozolith, and I believe I concur.”
“Hells,” Abda said. “If you two are so convinced, I suppose Rigi and I can pitch in. I wouldn’t want the runt getting hurt.”
“Then it’s decided,” Vivien said. “Thank you. I promise I will be worthy of your trust.”
“When we’re done,” Brin said, “can you take me to the moon?”
Chapter Five
They camped for the evening in the lee of a massive boulder, sheltered from the wind.
Lukka camped, in any event. He was the only one who seemed to care about niceties like a tent and a campfire. Vivien just settled herself against the rock, drawing her cloak tighter around her, while the three bonders huddled up with their monsters for warmth and shelter from the elements.
Lukka eyed the winged cat, who was curled into a ball a little ways off. Her fur did look warm and inviting, but the thought of tucking himself into it still turned his stomach. He couldn’t help but see the fangs and claws, too, and remember the sound of tearing flesh as the cat had ripped out Gedra’s throat, the casual shake with which she had broken Nik’s neck. The Ozolith may have sent her toward Drannith, but she’s still a monster.
He stuck with his tent, a little island of humanity in the midst of the strangeness all around him. Even the trail rations he’d gotten from the outpost—so tough and flavorless there were a dozen marching songs about their awfulness—seemed like a reminder of home. He chewed, patiently, as the color slipped out of the sky and the stars came out, one by one.
I’ll make it back. There has to be a way. They were moving quickly, at least. By tomorrow, according to Brin, they’d reach the Ozolith. Lukka was increasingly certain he could feel the crystal formation, or at least sense it through his connection to the winged cat. It was like a voice at the back of his mind, too quiet to make out but never entirely silent.
Whether it was this supernatural distraction or simple nerves, he found it difficult to sleep. After an hour or so of fitfully tossing and turning in his tent, Lukka kicked off his blanket and pulled on his boots. Maybe a walk will quiet my mind.
The fire had long since burned to embers, and a river of stars wheeled overhead. The four monsters were mounds of shadow, sides rising and falling with their breath. They were quiet, but Lukka didn’t fool himself that he was unobserved. Ears twitched at his footsteps, and a huge, slit-pupil eye eased open a fraction.
More surprising was the fact that Vivien wasn’t in the rocky nook where he’d left her. Lukka glanced around and eventually spotted her slim silhouette atop the boulder, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the stars. He climbed up after her, boots scraping on the stone, and she turned to him as he shuffled over beside her.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she said.
“No.” Lukka looked up at the sky, the fine diamond dust of stars broken here and there by dark clouds. “Are they the same?”
“Hmm?”
“The stars. Are they the same on every plane?”
“Oh, no.” Vivien chuckled. “Sometimes they’re colored like a rainbow. Sometimes they move, every night, as though they were giant fireflies.”
“You’re making fun of me,” Lukka said.
“I’m not,” Vivien said, solemnly. She sat up and crossed her legs. “You’re angry I didn’t tell you the truth from the start.”
“I understand,” Lukka said. “I don’t know if I would have believed you.”
“You do now?”
He nodded. “The way you talked, as though you’d come from a place without monsters. I don’t think there is such a place on my plane.”
“Probably not.” Vivien sighed. “There are monsters everywhere. Just in different forms.”
“So…” Lukka hesitated. “What are you doing here?”
“I was curious about your plane. That wasn’t a lie. And, as I said, when one of my kind abuses their power–”
“But why do you care?” Lukka said. “I don’t pretend to understand what’s out there, where you could go, but there has to be something better than this. Sleeping on a rock, on our way to fight a bunch of nightmares. Why would you do it?”
“You don’t trust me?” Vivien said.
“I trust you,” Lukka said. “I suppose I’m just curious.”
There was a long silence, long enough that Lukka worried he’d offended her. He shifted awkwardly, but before he could speak Vivien cleared her throat.
“My home…was…called Skalla. Before I knew I was a Planeswalker, I trained as a ranger and fought to protect the wilds against those who would despoil them. It was a long battle, a losing battle, even before Bolas came.”
“Bolas?” Lukka said.
“A Planeswalker. A monster.” Vivien’s hands gripped one another tightly. “He destroyed Skalla. I would have died there, but my Planeswalker talent, what we call the spark, manifested in time for me to escape. Now all that is left of my home is me, my bow, and the memories
stored within it.” She touched the weapon, as though for reassurance.
“I’m sorry,” Lukka said. “I didn’t mean to call up bad memories.”
“It’s all right.” Vivien let out a breath. “I swore to destroy Bolas. What else could I do? And for years that was what drove me, from place to place, plane to plane.”
“What happened?”
“I succeeded.” The ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Along with many others. There was a great battle, and in the end we won. Bolas’s evil is gone, from all the planes. There was a moment, afterward, when I felt…whole. And then…”
She spread her arms. “Then I woke up the next morning. Bolas is dead and Skalla is still gone. I still have no home to return to.”
Lukka was silent.
“I have been…in contemplation, since then,” Vivien went on. “What I have, the spark, is given to so few. We have an obligation to use it wisely, but what does that mean?” She shrugged. “I don’t pretend to know. But when I hear of someone abusing their spark, it makes me think of Skalla.”
There was a long pause.
“Well,” Lukka said. “We’re grateful for your help. I’m grateful. Without you I’d probably have been executed by now. And if we can stop whatever’s happening at the Ozolith–”
“Leave it for tomorrow,” Vivien said gently. “You should rest.”
“I should.” Lukka inclined his head. “Thank you.”
He clambered carefully back down the rock, past the embers of the fire and into his little tent. In the dark, he fumbled with the laces on his boots.
What would it be like, to lose your whole plane? He couldn’t begin to imagine it. Drannith was the only thing he’d ever cared about, Drannith and Jirina. My city and my love. As things stood, he had a very good chance of not seeing either one again.
No. Lukka’s hands tightened into fists. I won’t let that happen. Whatever it takes, I will get back to Drannith. I will find Jirina again. He thought of the pain in Vivien’s voice and shuddered. I will not lose my home.
***
None of the other monsters could fly, so the five humans all crowded onto the winged cat, keeping aloft and ahead of the other monsters. If the weight bothered her, the cat didn’t show it, strong wings beating at the air. Brin clung to her neck, making excited noises, while Abda and Barrow sat beside Vivien. To Lukka’s annoyance, they all looked more comfortable than he was, though he supposed they’d all spent more time on monster-back.
The weird voice was more insistent, down at the edge of hearing, words that almost made sense. Lukka could tell that the cat felt it as well and was similarly bothered. It was the Ozolith, for certain—Lukka caught a fragment of memory from his monster, of approaching the great crystal the first time and hearing that voice grow until it engulfed the world.
Hopefully that’s not likely to happen again. The winged cat gave a pulse of revulsion at the thought.
By mid-morning, flying over the dusty plain with the other three monsters bounding along below, they’d come into sight of the edges of the crystal formation. Unlike the Argalith, which lay at the center of Drannith’s defenses, the Ozolith wasn’t a single huge crystal but a whole field of them, growing in long, serpentine patterns, swirling in a great spiral around a central hub. The hub crystals were the largest, bright orange in color, but patterns of reflected light glittered throughout, spraying twisted rainbows onto the ground. The outermost rings were small enough that Lukka could have stepped over them, but the crystal growths became larger and more intimidating toward the center, until the hub was the size of a building.
“There,” Brin called. “That’s one of them. See the eyes?”
Something moved in the interstices of the crystal pattern—a huge, dark shape, spiked and scaled, with bat-like webbing between its limbs and a broad, flat head with six glowing red eyes. A few spirals over, Lukka spotted another nightmare, this one long and sinuous with no eyes at all. Other distant shadows moved among the flickering crystals on the far side of the structure.
“You weren’t kidding,” Lukka muttered.
“Still eager to try this?” Abda said.
Lukka closed his eyes, listening to the almost-voice in his head. It was strong enough now that he could pinpoint the central crystal of the Ozolith without looking. “I haven’t got any better ideas.”
“I would fight beside Zeph,” Barrow said. “Can you set us down?”
Lukka sent a request to the winged cat, who acknowledged with a pulse of satisfaction and began a spiraling descent. Roland, Rigi, and Zeph had halted at a safe distance from the Ozolith, the mammoth shape of the horned cat dwarfing the other two monsters. When they were low enough, Brin slid off, dropping onto Rol’s fuzzy backside and bouncing off with a laugh. The others waited until they landed, dry grass swirling in the backwash from the cat’s wings.
“Stay there,” Vivien said, when Lukka moved to follow. “I propose that our strategy should be for Lukka to go to the center of the Ozolith. He broke its control over his monster, and it’s possible that he will be able to undo whatever has been done to the crystal.”
“It makes tactical sense,” Barrow said. “His monster can get there the fastest.”
Abda nodded. “Hold back until the nightmares come out to play, then go for the goal. Simple enough?”
“Simple enough,” Lukka acknowledged, suddenly feeling uncertain. “But I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do when I get there.”
“That remains to be seen,” Vivien said. “If you fail, we will retreat and explore a different option. But bonder magic seems to operate mostly by instinct.”
Instinct. Right. Lukka was used to relying on training rather than instinct. He rubbed his knuckles on the hilt of his sword. “Okay. I’ll be ready.”
“Be ready to retreat,” Vivien said. “And do not concern yourself with me, whatever happens. I have means of escape, should it come to that.”
“All riiiiiight,” Brin said, bouncing on Rol’s head. “Let’s go already!”
“As you wish.” Vivien inclined her head. “Good hunting.”
She nocked an arrow to her bow, aimed high into the air, and fired. Green energy started to crackle almost as soon as it left the string, taking the form of a huge bird of prey, a hawk big enough to snatch up a horse. It gave a piercing cry as it flapped even higher, winging over the battlefield.
Lukka sent to the winged cat, telling her what he wanted to do. That was getting easier, exchanging emotions and images without words, communicating without the impediment of language. The cat responded with a surge of approval. Clearly, she was happy about their place in the plan. She jumped into the air, wings snapping out and beating hard, fighting for altitude.
The nightmares were already responding. The snake-like thing was the first to arrive, as long as a city block and jet-black, with an array of cruel-looking spikes running down its body and a vicious stinger in its tail. Its eyeless head wove back and forth, tongue licking out to taste the air. Behind it, another creature that Lukka hadn’t noticed vaulted over the lines of crystals, a six-limbed insectoid thing like an enormous flea, smaller than the snake but prodigiously fast.
Brin jumped off of her monster, rolling in the grass as the fat raccoon sprinted forward with surprising speed. As soon as she was clear, Rol curled in his head and tail, converting himself into something closer to a sphere and spinning forward with unchecked momentum. The flea-thing landed in front of him with a thump, but Rol didn’t even slow, slamming into it like a bowling ball. He rebounded as though he were made of rubber, sending the flea stumbling sideways.
Zeph and Rigi, meanwhile, engaged the snake. The huge white cat took it head on, slashing at the nightmare’s head with claws as long as swords. The nightmare lashed out, fangs flashing, but the cat dodged nimbly out of range. The great black body of the nightmare coiled around, tail-stinger coming in
, but Rigi and Abda intercepted it. Rigi, the spikes on her head and flanks rigid with anger, dove for the end of the snake’s tail, getting her jaws into the nightmare’s tough scales. Abda herself, with her two-pronged spear, guarded her monster’s back; when the stinger tried to curl past Rigi’s protective spines, Abda caught it in the cleft of the spear, twisting it harmlessly aside.
Brin was fighting alongside her monster, too, using a weapon like a giant slingshot to deliver precisely aimed sharpened stones. They did little damage to something the size of the nightmare flea, but each impact sent it off balance, allowing Rol to get in another bruising impact. Barrow, for his part, stood with his hands outstretched, watching crackling energy arc between Zeph’s horns. When it had built to sufficient fury, he reached out, and an arc of electrical power connected them. Glowing with energy, Barrow released it in a series of explosive bursts, detonating around the snake’s head and driving it back long enough for Zeph to get his jaw around its throat.
They’re used to fighting together. Like the members of Lukka’s old squad, each bonder worked in perfect synchronicity with their monstrous companion. It brought him a powerful sense of longing to watch that easy grace, and his hands tightened on the winged cat’s fur. I had partners, until the monsters took them from me.
The cat’s feelings came to him, uncertainty and fear, responding to the anger leaking out of his mind. Lukka did his best to calm himself.
“Nearly there.” He sent an image of the Ozolith’s core. Let’s go.
The cat spread her wings and started to dive, winging down toward the crystal. With a screech, the bat-thing unfolded itself, four-winged and eight-eyed. As it lurched into the air, Vivien’s hawk came slashing down in a screaming dive, ripping a great rent in one of the nightmare’s wing membranes. It staggered sideways, clawing for altitude.
At Lukka’s urging, the cat folded her wings, turning her dive into a headlong plummet. He held on for dear life as they hit the nightmare bat, claws first, tearing great bloody chunks out of its hide. The cat’s wings snapped open at the last moment, killing her speed only a few feet off the ground, her weight driving the squirming bat into the turf.
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