Planar Chaos

by Timothy Sanders

  Her old friend had scarcely recovered from the events at the Shivan rift. He was still distracted and withdrawn, barely interested in maintaining a conversation. He no longer seemed woozy or dazed, but neither was he lucid. While Venser and the Ghitu built a working ambulator, Teferi had simply sat nearby, always facing away, looking up into the sky. This was how she found him now, sitting quietly on a sandy ridge just outside the Ghitu village.

  Teferi’s godlike power was also gone, perhaps burned out forever by his all-out effort to seal the Shivan rift. Since then he had shown none of his former magic, and of late he had not even tried to cast a spell or planeswalk from one place to another. His body was not a solid projection of his mind’s devising but a gross physical object that was subject to the same threats and consequences as the rest of the mortal beings around him.

  It pained Jhoira to see him like this, so diminished and unlike his gregarious self. It pained her that Teferi always intended to abandon her after the Shivan rift was sealed. He planned for her to take up the mantle of saving the universe, and now he was making sure she had no choice but to follow that plan.

  Jhoira strode forward, her purpose renewed. Teferi had intended to die in the Shivan rift. He had put them on this course and left her the rudder. He had set this all in motion, and so he would have to accept where it took him.

  “Teferi,” she said.

  Her friend’s bald head twitched as he started from a daydream. He looked up at her and smiled, though his eyes were wide and sad. “Jhoira. How fares the venture?”

  “We’re getting ready to leave,” she said. “Two more days, maybe three. I need to know a few things before we go.”

  Teferi slowly rose to his feet. He dusted off his robes and bowed slightly. “I am at your service.”

  Ten sharp rejoinders collided in Jhoira’s throat, and the logjam prevented any single one from emerging. She regained her composure and said, “What is your condition?”

  Teferi cocked his head quizzically. “As you see me,” he said.

  Jhoira nodded. “Do you remember anything after you closed the Shivan rift?”

  The planeswalker shook his head. He shrugged. “There was a rock.”

  “Yes. You mentioned mana surges. Can you still sense them?”

  Teferi paused, concentrating. “No,” he said. “I remember what they felt like….I sometimes remember what everything felt like. But I don’t anymore.”

  “You don’t what?”

  “I don’t feel the mana surges.” Teferi’s tone grew tired and irritable. “I don’t feel mana, honestly.”

  “I see. Do you feel anything?”

  “How do you mean?’

  “Can you sense the rifts anymore? Can you help us find them? Do you remember anything about them, any thoughts you thought when you were nigh-omniscient and almost omnipotent?”

  Teferi chuckled. “No. I don’t truly understand the question, but I’m sure the answer is no.”

  “What did you see when Venser found the basilisk?”

  “I’d say it was more like the basilisk found him.” Teferi tilted his head back, smiling as he searched for the memory. “Venser teleported, in a sense. Much as his machine did.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. He’s never cast anything before.” Teferi was more alert now, more focused. “But, he did build the machine. Maybe building it became a ritual, a kind of spell. He built it so often with his hands that now he can build it in his head and make it real.”

  “And this new-found magic,” Jhoira said, “is connected to the rift?”

  Teferi’s clear eyes clouded over. “Not sure.”

  “Very well. Thank you, Teferi.” Jhoira took Teferi by the shoulders and held him until he made eye contact. Her voice was low, stern, and ominous. “How much power do you have left?” she said.

  Teferi’s face was vacant, as usual, but his voice was clear and strong. “I don’t know.”

  Jhoira released him. “I believe you.” She let her arms fall but stayed where she was, her face inches from her old friend’s. “Are you able to help us seal the remaining rifts?”

  Teferi nodded. “I am.”

  “Are you willing to help us seal the remaining rifts?”

  “Of course. Tell me what I can do.”

  “I would if I knew. If anyone knew.” Jhoira stopped herself, exhaled, then continued. “You can listen,” she said. “I’ve come to the conclusion you wanted me to: We must enlist other planeswalkers to help.”

  Teferi nodded. “Karn?”

  Jhoira started, caught off guard by Teferi’s prescience. The golem Karn was one of their oldest allies, a highly advanced silver golem who had achieved both independent thought and the ability to planeswalk. Karn had been one of their fellows at the Tolarian Academy. In fact, he had known Jhoira and called her “friend” even longer than Teferi had.

  “Karn is not here,” she said. “And he’s notoriously difficult to reach. The last report we have says he went on an extended tour of the multiverse with another ’walker as his traveling companion. They haven’t been seen or heard from in centuries.

  “No, I think we have to work with what’s here. Two of the rifts we’ve seen have planeswalkers living nearby. I intend to use Venser’s machine to take us back to Urborg, then to Skyshroud. Windgrace is Urborg’s protector, so he may be swayed by the threat to his homeland. Freyalise will require more convincing. I’ll consider that problem later.”

  “You sound a bit like I used to.” The planeswalker grinned. “It’s not so easy to provide answers when you don’t have them, eh?”

  Jhoira stared at him coldly. “So, to Urborg. Windgrace first, then Freyalise.”

  “A sound stratagem.”

  Jhoira watched him carefully. “Unless you can take us there. We’ve made some crucial changes to the ambulator, but it’s still Venser’s machine. It didn’t work reliably last time we used it.”

  “I do recall.” Teferi nodded. “So I share your concern.”

  “But you’re not up to the challenge.”

  “No.”

  Jhoira sighed. “Teferi, we need you. We need your knowledge about the rifts, we need your insight into planar mechanics. Do you have that to offer?”

  Teferi swelled up and stood resolute. “I will give whatever I can.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask, or expect. Now,” Jhoira said, leaning forward slightly, “what happened to Corus?”

  Teferi’s scowled slightly. “Corus.” He mused, running his tongue over his upper teeth behind closed lips. “Corus ruptured the mana star.”

  “If that were true, you’d be a cinder. Or frozen ten feet down in a lake of molten quartz. Damaging a powerstone that size releases enough energy to take down a small mountain.”

  Teferi’s features went slack. “Corus ruptured the mana star,” he said.

  “I believe he did. But I also believe he tried to kill you first.”

  Teferi did not reply.

  “Didn’t he?”

  The wizard’s face twisted in anger and confusion. “He did. But I protected myself. Then he broke the arm off the star. And I protected myself again.” Teferi crossed his arms defiantly.

  Jhoira regarded him for a few moments. She said, “When Venser tests the machine…when we take our first trip on the new ambulator, you will stay behind.”

  “But I—”

  Jhoira held up her hand. “You have to. To limit the variables. If you yourself don’t know the state of your own magic, we can’t risk it affecting the machine. I do not want a repeat of what happened in Urborg. No more wild cascades across history’s greatest cataclysms. I won’t risk it. So you stay behind.

  “If we make the trip successfully, we will return to collect you. If everything works as planned, you won’t be waiting more than a few minutes.”

  “But Venser can teleport.” Now Teferi grabbed Jhoira’s shoulder, clamping on tight with his right hand. “All on his own, without study. He’s the key to this. H
e and Radha and the others like them. I can help him. I can teach him how to use it for us—”

  Jhoira pried Teferi’s hand loose. She held it as she said, “Venser has nothing to learn from you. I would actually prefer that he not learn from you, as you have too many bad habits that he’s better off without. And he will help us because he wants to, not because you trick him into it.” She released Teferi’s hand. “You stay behind. We will return for you.”

  Teferi’s eyes welled up with tears, which he quickly blinked away. “Jhoira,” he said, “I want to do more. I still want to make it right.”

  “Don’t,” she said. “Do this instead: If you want to help, help. Assist me. Follow my lead.” She arched her brow. “Unless you want to stay on this hillside and keep wondering why you’re not dead. You’re alive, Teferi, and your work is far from over. You left it to me, but I can’t do it by myself. We need you. I need you.”

  Teferi closed his eyes, squeezing two more tears that disappeared into the Shivan sand. He bowed gracefully and said, “Thank you, my friend.” He rose, his eyes clear, bright, and dry. “When does the test flight begin? Assuming I’m allowed to observe, that is.”

  “You are. From a safe distance.” Jhoira did not smile. She extended her hand, which Teferi quickly clasped in his own.

  “We are partners again?” he said.

  “Allies,” Jhoira said, “working toward the same goal.”

  Teferi beamed. “I relish the opportunity.”

  As Jhoira turned away and Teferi followed, she wondered which of the many Teferis she had seen over the years was scuffling through the sand behind her.

  The final tests were complete, and the last-minute preparations were all in place. Every bearing, seal, and joint had been checked and rechecked, tolerances set with razor-keen precision. Venser’s twin powerstones were in place, the control rig was resting awkwardly on his shoulders, and he sat ready at the center of his glorious machine.

  It was still his ambulator. Jhoira had said so many times during the construction, and Venser knew it was true. His designs had progressed more in the last a few weeks than they had for years back home. He had never imagined collaboration would be so easy or so productive, and he was humbled by the Ghitu’s skill and grace in the workshop. Even the damnable rig she saddled him with was proving useful, even preferable to what he was used to. Controlling the machine was now as easy as writing his name, or calculating a column of numbers—he barely needed to concentrate before his practiced fingers were dancing over the controls.

  But it was still his ambulator. Jhoira had said so, and he knew it was true.

  The Ghitu team she had assembled stood nearby, as did several members of the elder council. Jhoira was on the dais to Venser’s right, keeping one eye on the flow of light across the machine’s interior surface and the other on Teferi.

  Venser did not know what to make of the planeswalker’s nonparticipation in the device’s construction any more than he did Teferi’s presence at this inaugural jaunt. Teferi was as mysterious as he had ever been, if not more so. Venser was happy to let Jhoira interact with him, except that there was an obvious distance between them now, a coldness that hadn’t been there before. Venser accepted the obvious rationale they offered, that Teferi’s planeswalking power posed a threat to the machine’s central function. He knew there was far more to his friends’ complicated relationship, however, and far more to this current disharmony between them.

  Not that Jhoira had allowed him much time to reflect on anything but the ambulator. Neither had she given him the chance to ask her about it. The work had gone exceedingly fast, even faster than their best estimations, but every second strengthened the network of time rifts, allowed them to extend and deepen and continue their disruptive effects on the world. The machine had been completed in a dead rush, and now that it was functional they were forced to rush on.

  Urborg was the destination of this first journey. It was Venser’s home, the place he knew the best and identified with most strongly. All of his life experiences were there, all of his material possessions, so if he was able to teleport anywhere successfully, it would be there.

  Urborg was also the site of the Phyrexian Stronghold and the Stronghold’s attendant rift. According to Jhoira, this fissure had been created when a dark god’s machinery transported the mountain fortress across planar barriers, forcing it from one sphere of existence into another. Such events had happened with alarming frequency in Dominaria’s history, and while all of them left some mark on the fabric of the multiverse, only the grandest and most violent created phenomena like the Stronghold rift. Like the one Teferi had closed in Shiv, the Stronghold rift drained the local mana and weakened the fabric of time and space itself.

  Even if they managed to seal the rift in Urborg, Venser knew there were at least three more that were large enough and dangerous enough to warrant the direct action of a godlike planeswalker. That such a being was always active in Urborg became another reason to visit Venser’s home first. Lord Windgrace had been patron and protector of the swamps for generations, though there was no guarantee the fabled panther-warrior would receive them, or that he would do what Teferi had done.

  “Are you ready?” Jhoira said.

  “No,” Venser muttered. Then, more loudly, “But I’m eager to get home. Let’s see what happens.”

  Jhoira rested her hand on Venser’s shoulder, and he again cursed the metal rig, this time for keeping Jhoira’s hand from actually touching him. He needed all the reassurance he could get.

  “Stand clear,” he said. His fingers flew and the ambulator began to hum.

  “This will work,” Jhoira said, leaning in close to Venser’s ear. “I have no doubts because you have earned this success.”

  Venser smiled weakly. He signaled the Ghitu technicians and they released the last of the couplings that tethered the machine to the ground.

  “Good-bye, brothers and sisters,” Jhoira called. Venser had picked up quite a bit of the Ghitu language after working so closely with them, and he followed her short farewell address with ease. “We thank you as guests and as peers. You have done a great service to us. You have helped Venser realize his dream. We are going to Urborg”—she raised her hand high—“and we are coming back.”

  The Ghitu assembly silently returned Jhoira’s gesture. As the Shivans all lowered their arms, Jhoira called out to Teferi. “Watch us,” she told him. “Observe. If anything goes wrong, learn from our mistake. And carry on.” She held her old friend’s eyes fiercely, almost challenging him to respond, but the planeswalker simply stared, his face an inscrutable mask.

  Now fully annoyed, Jhoira turned back to Venser and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Venser nodded. He gulped. His fingers danced across the panel as blue and yellow lights flashed across his shoulders. The machine whined and revved ever higher.

  Rest now….

  “What?” Venser did not stop what he was doing, but the soft voice had him distracted. Who was speaking? Why did he feel so cold?

  Don’t struggle. Rest now. It’s so much easier if you rest….

  “Do you hear that?” he shouted. The soft, giddy voice was similar to the one he had heard when the basilisk attacked him.

  Jhoira shook her head and motioned to her ears. She couldn’t hear him, but she seemed to understand what he said. She opened wide and carefully mouthed, “Nothing. What did you hear?”

  Venser tried to abort, tried to reverse the ignition process. The machine did not respond, no matter how fast his fingers flew. Panicking, Venser glanced up at Jhoira, then out among the Ghitu, but his eye was quickly drawn to Teferi. The wizard’s hands were in motion, his mouth was moving. Was he bidding them farewell? Or was he casting a spell?

  “I can’t stop it,” Venser said.

  Yes, that’s it. Come to me now. Come to me and rest. Don’t struggle….

  Jhoira crouched down beside him and shouted back, “Don’t try. It’s too late.”

&nbs
p; The ghostly voice dissolved into hysterical giggles, cackling and howling like a rabid harlequin. The sound stopped, and when the voice spoke again it was hungry, cruel, and confident.

  Got you.

  Then the world went away, vanishing behind a curtain of sizzling energy. The curtain spread and swallowed Jhoira. It rushed out over the ambulator platform, eclipsing the Ghitu and even Teferi Planeswalker himself.

  Venser followed them into that flash of yellow-white lightning and fell into an endless void of searing white light. His body was gone, his mind was racing, and all he could feel was a frigid breeze blowing through him as manic laughter rang in his mind.

  * * *

  —

  Karn floated in the Blind Eternities, barely touching the outer edges of Mirrodin. The all-metal plane was a place of his own devising, a test of his abilities and his intentions that had not ended well. Now it was a peaceful place, but Karn always returned to it regularly to make sure that the seeds he planted did not bring forth poison fruit.

  Beside him was his planeswalking companion Jeska, once a Pardic barbarian from the continent of Otaria. Jeska had led a strange life both before and after she ascended, and it was Karn’s pleasure to serve as her mentor and partner as they explored the widest ranges of the multiverse.

  Karn enjoyed the company. He had always been unique among his peers no matter who or what they were. Initially created as a silver golem for Urza’s first time travel experiments, Karn was built for independent thought and exploration. His self-determination derived from a Phyrexian heartstone that Urza himself had harvested from the breeding vats in Phyrexia, and Karn had since incorporated some of the most powerful artifacts ever built into his manufactured body. Amalgamated by circumstance and integrated by his own will, Karn’s being contained worlds, along with both the power and the mechanisms to move himself and others from plane to plane. He had not ascended to planeswalker status as others did, from an essential innate spark that flared under duress, but he had ascended and was functionally identical to (and perhaps more powerful than) other, more organic godlike beings. He had access to titanic amounts of mana, his body changed to suit his moods and his needs, and he could step from one frame of existence to another as easily as rising from a chair.