Planar Chaos

by Timothy Sanders

  “Jhoira,” she said. “But I am no one’s consort.”

  “Ageless?” Venser said.

  Windgrace’s fur bristled. “You and the Zhalfir whelp broke and ran during the Invasion while the rest of us bled defending our homeland,” he said. “What is your business here?”

  “Our common enemies,” Jodah said. “The Weaver King. The unnatural cold. The Phyrexian hordes.”

  “And the hole in the sky that enables them all.” Jhoira and Jodah stood side by side, both unwavering under the panther-god’s fearsome glare. Venser envied their resolve.

  Lord Windgrace paused. His breath rumbled in his throat, not quite a growl. He turned to Venser and said, “These things are all related?”

  Venser nodded. “I suspect so. And if Jhoira believes it, so do I.”

  Windgrace addressed Jhoira. “Where is Teferi Planeswalker?”

  “In Shiv,” Jhoira said. “Though he is planeswalker no more.”

  “Interesting. How did that happen?”

  Jhoira paused to glance at Venser, then at Jodah. “He used up his power sealing the rift over my homeland.” She gestured up to the crackling disc on the horizon. “A phenomenon closely related to that. He saved Shiv but was greatly diminished.”

  “So he lives?”

  “He does. His mind has been dampened along with his magic, but he lives.”

  “I will speak with this diminished planeswalker,” Windgrace said. “Venser, attend me.”

  “What?” Venser gulped as Windgrace’s tail twitched menacingly. “I mean to say—yes, my lord. But why are we—”

  “Lord Windgrace,” Jhoira said. “I have much to tell Teferi, much to ask him. I have also known him for a very long time, and in his current addled state, I may be the only one who can make sense of what he says.”

  Windgrace huffed. “And your point?”

  “If you allow me to accompany you,” she said, “if you bring Jodah and me with you, we may all find the answers we seek.”

  “A worthy suggestion.” Lord Windgrace swiveled his massive head around the clearing. Venser stood ready beside him, praying that the panther-god would forget about him. Jodah and Jhoira stood shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the planeswalker expectantly.

  “No,” Windgrace said. Venser did not have time to draw breath before he felt himself vanishing, slipping away from Urborg and into the nothingness of the void. He couldn’t speak but he tried to send his thoughts directly to Jhoira, to beam them from his brain to hers.

  Help me, he thought. The only thing I can do is make things worse.

  * * *

  —

  Jhoira and Jodah stood alone by the trench.

  “Arrogant bastard, isn’t he?” Jodah shook his head. “I thought for a second there we had convinced him.”

  “We did,” Jhoira said. “But he doesn’t trust us.”

  “He trusted your friend easily enough.”

  “Venser was suitably awed,” Jhoira said. “He’s a native and he grew up hearing the legend of Windgrace.”

  Jodah nodded. “So what do we do?”

  Jhoira tightened the fur coat around her waist. “We follow.” She walked past the end of the trench and up a small rise.

  Jodah was right beside her. “How do we do that?”

  “With Venser’s machine.”

  “Oh? I thought it didn’t work.”

  “It works fine.”

  “It dropped you off in the middle of a frozen swamp and half-buried itself in the mire.”

  “It works fine without Venser. My theory is that Venser’s untapped potential interferes with the ambulator’s function. I made sure to build this one to accommodate that interference.”

  “But it didn’t work.”

  “No. But I think I know why. And how to fix it.”

  “That would be ideal.” They hiked along for a few moments. Jodah said, “Do you know where to find it?”

  “No. That’s why we have to start looking now.”

  “I see. And have you a method for getting past Windgrace’s gladehunters?”

  Jhoira’s pace slowed. “No.”

  “Because I strongly doubt that he left it unguarded. Venser said ‘Windgrace has it,’ not ‘Windgrace wrecked it.’ If the planeswalker kept the machine intact, he must have a use for it.”

  “And if he has a use for it, he values it. And he will make sure to protect that value.” She stopped walking. “I see your point.”

  Jodah shrugged. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

  “Keep thinking then. Do you have any ideas?”

  “On how to recover the machine without being eaten by those from Urborg? No, I can’t say that I do.”

  Jhoira paused, her jaws working furiously as she considered her options.

  “What I do have,” Jodah said, “is an alternate means of transport.” He waited for her to absorb this before adding, “It’s not like planeswalking. It’s more like a series of tunnels that I use from time to time.”

  “Can it get us to Shiv?”

  “Almost certainly. It takes some effort to set up the passageway, and I can only take us to preexisting, suitable places. I can’t make us appear exactly where we want to be, but it works by following ley lines and mana channels. If our destination has magic…”

  “It does. Not in abundance, but it exists.”

  “Capital.” Jodah nodded. “If there’s mana, we can go there. Shall I begin?”

  “Please. And if you don’t need my help, I will scout the area for signs of Venser’s machine.”

  “And Urborgian monsters.” Jodah bobbed his head and waved his hand magnanimously. “By all means, scout away. I love having a solid fallback plan.”

  Jhoira nodded, treating the archmage to a confident smile. “Let’s get started.”

  * * *

  —

  Windgrace was rough and impatient, but Venser had no quarrel with the planeswalker’s power. The artificer had endured more than his share of teleportation magic over the past years, and especially in the last few weeks, but his journeys had never been as smooth or efficient as this.

  They were gone from Urborg and standing in Shiv faster than it takes a stiff wind to extinguish a candle. There was none of the stomach-churning discomfort or vertiginous falling sensation that he expected. Guided by a master like Windgrace, Venser completed the trip as easily as closing and reopening his eyes.

  Venser’s memory must have had something to do with their landing site, for they appeared in the exact same place from which the ambulator had departed. The Ghitu elders and craftspeople were no longer assembled there, but a single figure stood patiently waiting as the hot wind fluttered the sleeves of his robe.

  Venser was not surprised to see Teferi standing there. He began to understand Jhoira’s recurring sharpness with the planeswalker—Teferi pretended that he knew more than he did as often as he pretended not to, and it was maddening to have to keep track of his playacting.

  “Welcome back,” Teferi said. He bowed to Lord Windgrace. “And welcome to you, Protector of Urborg.”

  “So it’s true,” Windgrace said. “You have changed since we last met.”

  “Have we met, my lord? I cannot deny that you are familiar, but much of my own mind is still opaque to me.”

  “Spare me your babbling. We are in haste. What goes on here?”

  Teferi arched his brow innocently. “Here, my lord? Nothing. What needed to be done was done. That which still needs to be done has led Venser and Jhoira to your homeland.”

  Windgrace turned to Venser, who quickly spoke up. “Lord Windgrace is asking about the rifts, Teferi. Jhoira thinks the one over the Stronghold is…growing more unstable.”

  “How is Jhoira?”

  “Willful,” Windgrace said. “Short of patience. And possessed of an inflated opinion regarding her opinions.”

  Teferi smiled. “So unchanged then?”

  Windgrace snarled. “I have no time for this. There are oddly evolved Phyrexia
ns marching out of the Stronghold by the score. Winter has come unseasonably early and shows no signs of ending. I know these things are connected. Your Jhoira says the rift is also involved.” He sprang forward and landed lightly on his feet, his nose mere inches from Teferi. To his credit, the erstwhile planeswalker never flinched.

  “There is time magic at work,” Windgrace said, “which has always been the province of Tolarians. I believe you may have useful information. Share it with me. Now.”

  “Any information I have is gone,” Teferi said. “All my insights were lost along with my planeswalking. I am a shell of myself, Lord Windgrace, a hollow man. I can’t help you.”

  The panther-man clenched his sharp teeth. “Won’t. You won’t help.”

  “It’s not a question of desire but of ability.”

  “I can compel you,” Windgrace said. “I can command your desire and your abilities.”

  “Of course you can,” Teferi said. “You are still a planeswalker.”

  “And you are still a child.” He turned to Venser. “This is pointless. Do you have anything to add?”

  Venser watched Teferi’s guileless face. “No, my lord.”

  “Then we are done here.”

  “If I may,” Teferi said. His voice was distant and vague, but Windgrace’s ears swiveled eagerly toward the sound. “The Stronghold rift is the result of Phyrexian activity. It does not surprise me that you are finding Phyrexians inside.”

  “These are not the same. These are not the Invasion Phyrexians from which you ran and hid,” Windgrace said.

  “Oh? How so?”

  “These are more refined. They are smaller and more autonomous. And they have been built and bred to fight in the cold.”

  “Yet the dark god who created them and spurred them on is long dead. Or has that changed too?”

  Windgrace stiffened. “The Lord of the Wastes is no more. I am certain. But these new minions act very much like his old legions did.”

  “So we have Phyrexians that don’t fit and an enduring cold that doesn’t fit.” Teferi turned to Venser. “Does anything you’ve seen so far explain this riddle?”

  Venser paused, carefully considering Teferi’s words. “We saw both history and alternate realities through the Stronghold rift. Some showed landscapes dominated by machines and refineries. If one of those alternatives, one of the potential worlds inside the rift, was frozen as well as overrun with artifact monsters…maybe it is spilling out into this world.”

  “Excellent,” Teferi said. He grinned at Windgrace. “He’s very smart, you know.”

  Windgrace huffed impatiently. “If these are invaders from another reality, how do we seal ours off from theirs? How do we keep them out?”

  “I could guess,” Teferi said. “But it would just be a guess. Venser?”

  “Why are you asking me? You’re the one who shut the Shivan rift. Go ahead and guess how you did that if you really want to help.”

  Teferi straightened, his half smile fixed. “With every last shred of magical power I had. Even if I could do it twice, it might not work again. Not with the a time distortion to contend with.”

  “So we need a planeswalker,” Venser said.

  Teferi nodded. “Or a timewalker, someone skilled at moving against the temporal flow.”

  “You?”

  Teferi gracefully bore Windgrace’s scorn. “No, my lord. I can stop time temporarily or remove things from its progression.” He shrugged. “Rather, I used to be able to do those things. But even at my peak I’ve never been able to take myself or anyone else out of the present, not into the past or the future.”

  “Then you are useless to me.” Windgrace backed away from Teferi, but his angry eye lingered on the bald wizard.

  “I almost certainly am,” Teferi said. “But there are others who may be of service.”

  “Stop playing games. Who do you mean?”

  “Freyalise,” Teferi said. “The rift above her Skyshroud Forest is similar to the one over Urborg, as it was also created by Phyrexians during the Invasion. She may be having troubles of her own that mimic yours. And unlike me, she is still whole, her power complete.” Teferi smiled brightly. “You two should collaborate. Two planeswalker heroes of the Invasion united to stop another Phyrexian horde. It has a symmetry that appeals to me.”

  Windgrace glowered. “I would sooner murder an infant in its cradle than I would disturb Freyalise on your say-so.”

  “Is her privacy more important that Urborg’s existence?” Teferi made a quizzical face. Venser expected Windgrace to bristle at Teferi’s words, but if anything the panther-man grew calmer, more serious and still.

  “You are truly Urza’s heir,” Windgrace said.

  Teferi bowed. “Thank you.”

  “It is no compliment.” The planeswalker spoke to Venser. “Come. We will consult with Freyalise.”

  “Good-bye, then,” Teferi said. “I’m glad I was able to help in the end.”

  Windgrace’s ears flattened. “You’re coming too, Tolarian.”

  “What?” For the first time since they arrived, Venser thought Windgrace had Teferi’s full attention.

  “Say no more,” Windgrace said. “I would take it as a grave personal insult if you expected your ploy to work as intended. I am not your dupe.”

  “But I am—”

  “You are playing games. We are not. If you will not work with us willingly, we will pry what we need from you by force.”

  “Freyalise dislikes me,” Teferi said. “She detests me, in fact. If you bring me to her she may well consider you her enemy.”

  “Then I will not bring you to her, nor her to you. We will meet on neutral ground.”

  “How will we do that? Freyalise will not leave Skyshroud.”

  “It is truly pitiful how far you have fallen,” Windgrace said. “I have no need to explain myself. Make ready, both of you. We’re leaving.”

  Teferi tried to say something else, but Venser knew better. Before the first breath had even entered Teferi’s body, the Ghitu launch platform was full of blinding light.

  * * *

  —

  Jhoira sat watching Jodah as the archmage prepared his transport tunnel. It was not a flashy affair. In fact, it was little more than an existing hole in the ground with a shimmering skin of liquid rippling over it. Jodah had spent most of his time finding the hole. The magic was almost an afterthought.

  The longer it took the more Jhoira worried that they’d arrive too late. Windgrace was not likely to stay in Shiv for long, and it would be just her luck to pass by him as he was planeswalking Venser back to Urborg. She had no idea how much longer Jodah’s preparations would take, but she was starting to think they’d be better served simply to sit and wait.

  She had found no trace of the ambulator. There were strange tracks that told her it had been dragged from the trench and moved into the deep woods, but she was unable to follow the trail past the tree line. It was encouraging that the gladehunters hadn’t simply pulverized the machine where it fell, but the fact that it still existed was small comfort when she didn’t know where it was.

  The layer of liquid over Jodah’s tunnel undulated and the archmage yelped. “Stand back,” he said. “Something’s headed here.”

  “Planeswalker?”

  Jodah paused, scolding Jhoira with his eyes. But he said, “Yes. This time you are correct.”

  Windgrace, Venser, and Teferi shimmered into view opposite Jodah and the tunnel. Jhoira regarded the trio with different levels of concern—Venser seemed about to drop from exhaustion, Teferi looked as chastened as she’d ever seen him, and Windgrace was larger, wilder, and more agitated than ever.

  “You there,” Windgrace said to Jodah. “You are a longtime ally of Freyalise.”

  Jodah glanced at Jhoira. “Actually, no,” he said.

  “Nonsense. You were instrumental in her casting of the World Spell.”

  Jodah shrugged. “I have had extensive dealings with Freyalise in the past.
But I would not call us allies and neither would she.”

  Windgrace grew slightly larger and a great deal more imposing. “But you are on cordial terms?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Windgrace looked from Jodah to Jhoira to Teferi and said, “Why is everything so difficult with you people?” He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. “Venser.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Does Freyalise hate you?”

  “No, my lord. I’ve never had any dealings with her at all.”

  “That’s something. All of you stand ready.”

  “But Lord Windgrace,” Jodah said, “Freyalise does hate me.”

  “And me,” Teferi said.

  Jodah nodded. “Perhaps it would be best to leave us out of it?”

  Windgrace’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said. “At the very least I can hand you two over to her and enjoy it as she chastises you. Think of yourselves as a peace offering.”

  Jhoira stepped forward. “And me?”

  “I know of you,” Windgrace said. He pointed to Teferi. “And I know you’re in league with this one and so probably know as much as he does. If Freyalise kills him, we may need you to provide our answers.” The panther flexed his muscles and shook himself angrily. “And I have no more interest in debating this.”

  Jodah had sidled up to Venser, and Jhoira heard him mutter, “I don’t want to go to Skyshroud.”

  Venser nodded sympathetically. “It’s probably no consolation,” he said, “but we’re not going to Skyshroud.”

  “Oh.” Jodah considered. “Is there any chance—”

  The archmage never finished his thought. Windgrace didn’t simply ’walk them away this time, he stretched out his arms and encircled them all in a sparkling stream of glittering, green-white pine needles. Outside the ring, Urborg faded away and was replaced by a strange, endless void. Distant stars and planets twinkled against a black sky that was dotted with vast clouds of dust and flashes of fire.

  “Freyalise,” Windgrace said. “I would speak with you.”

  Jodah looked miserable. Venser looked miserable. Only Teferi seemed sanguine, his face open and alert. Even so, from his expression Jhoira knew that Teferi did not fully appreciate the gravity of the situation—or at least he pretended not to.