The Darksteel Eye

by Jess Lebow

  She felt Bosh’s hand again, and the top of the pool dropped toward her. She could see the surface clearly now. There were lights, and where they hit the serum, a star formed. There was something else—dark figures moving around the edge of the pool. She couldn’t make out what they were. She squinted, but it was no use. Whatever they were, they slipped from view as her head breached the surface.

  Glissa spat out serum and sucked in a huge breath. Blowing it out, she took another gasp.

  “I didn’t think I’d make it out alive,” she shouted, wiping the serum from her eyes.

  “You won’t,” said someone in a gurgling voice. The words sounded as if they had come from underwater—far away and muffled.

  Dragging her hand over her face once again, Glissa looked out over the edge of the pool.

  A dozen vedalken guards filled the room. Two of them held Slobad by the arms, while another pair pointed their glowing halberds at the wounded Bruenna.

  “Get out of the pool,” said the same far-away voice.

  Glissa couldn’t tell which one was talking because all of them wore heavy helmets filled with what looked like water or blinkmoth serum.

  “I said ‘out,’ ” commanded the voice.

  “All right, all right.” Glissa began pushing herself toward the edge. From underneath, she felt a large pulse, as if a huge bubble rising from below had hit her legs.

  Then she was airborne.

  Serum trailed from her limbs as she rocketed toward the ceiling. Waving her arms in a circle, Glissa managed to keep herself upright. As she reached the apex of her upward arc, she drew her sword from her belt and glanced down at where she had been. Below her, the pool writhed and bubbled, as if a hundred deadly fish were fighting over the carcass of a zombie. Bosh’s head had burst through the surface, and he rose like a piston—climbing to a height with tremendous speed then falling back under the serum.

  Waves lapped over the golem’s shoulders as he slipped back into the pool. The elf came down atop a vedalken guard. Her boot heel smashed through the creature’s face mask, spilling the liquid underneath. The guard dropped his halberd and clutched at his face.

  Glissa turned on the next vedalken guard. This one was ready with his halberd. Angling in, the four-armed warrior brought the head of his weapon down on the elf.

  Glissa just managed to get her blade around in time, blocking the vedalken’s strike. Had she missed, she would now be missing an ear. Twisting away from the blow, the elf stepped in, pulling her sword free.

  The guard was defenseless, unable to bring his long weapon in so close, and he backpedaled, but it was too late. Glissa cut a long gash across his belly, opening his robe and abdomen in the same stroke. Pink and purple blobs of flesh poured from the warrior’s open stomach. Glissa assumed they were vedalken entrails, though she’d never seen the inside of one before.

  The guard went to his knees, scooping up his guts in both arms and trying to stuff them back in. Glissa turned away, sure that he’d cause her no more trouble, at least for the foreseeable future.

  Four halberd blades descended on her at once, blocking each of the cardinal directions.

  “Drop your weapon,” came another gurgling voice.

  Glissa bashed away one of the great spears, dodging through the hole as she did so and coming around behind the circle of guards. As she spun, something caught her foot, and the world spun with her. For the dozenth time in as many minutes, the elf landed on her head and saw stars.

  “Not again.”

  Glissa tried to sit up, but her path was blocked by a trio of spearheads.

  “That’s far enough.”

  Glissa looked up into the eyes of a vedalken guard. His head swam inside a helmet full of serum, making his lips and eyes appear stretched and rubbery. He looked like a cross between a fish and a human—no elf could ever be so grotesque.

  Glissa lay on the ground, panting. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to drop your sword.”

  Up this close, Glissa could see the creature’s lips move as he spoke. Somehow the words seemed to be coming from his neck or the top of his chest.

  The vedalken jabbed his spear into her belly.

  “All right.” Glissa released her blade, and one of the other guards kicked it across the floor, away from her open hand.

  A great splashing sound echoed through the room, and a wave of serum spilled over the sides of the Pool of Knowledge. Bosh’s head and chest rose into the air. The golem lifted himself from the pool, his feet coming down with a thud as he landed on solid ground.

  “Stop right there,” sputtered one of the guards.

  Glissa felt two pairs of hands reach under her arms, and she was yanked to her feet by a vedalken. To her left, Slobad and Bruenna were being held in the same fashion, their arms pinned back by a pair of guards, blades to their necks.

  “On your knees, golem, or your friends are dead.”

  Bosh looked to Slobad and Bruenna then to Glissa.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  A guard grabbed her by both cheeks, immobilizing her head and jaw. The elf struggled, but it was no use. The vedalken had a good grip, and all she could do was move her eyes in their sockets.

  “On your knees,” repeated the vedalken.

  Slowly, Bosh lowered his head and dropped himself to the ground.

  A pair of four-armed warriors rushed over and pried open a metal plate on his back. Flakes of rust fell to the floor. Bosh flinched at the sound.

  “No,” shouted Slobad. “Don’t turn him off. I just turn him back on, huh?”

  A guard shoved the goblin to the floor and knelt on him.

  Glissa felt a cold chill run down her spine. She’d gone too far. All of this had started because she had vowed revenge for her parents’ death. Along the way Bosh and Slobad had joined her, and this personal quest had turned into something bigger. Now Glissa had dug too deeply, and they were all going to die. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to watch.

  A clank rattled around inside the room, echoing over the pool and the walls. Glissa cringed, remembering how she and Slobad had found the golem, sunk and forgotten, lying in pieces in the Dross, and a tear ran down her cheek.

  There was another clank, and another, followed by the sound of footsteps and shouting.

  Glissa opened her eyes.

  Humans, wizards and soldiers alike were flooding into the room. They all wore blue robes, and most carried wicked hooked staves, ending in jagged points, covered with glowing jewels.

  Half of the vedalken guards holding Glissa broke off, heading to intercept the humans. The elf’s head and jaw were again free.

  “Bosh, get up,” she shouted.

  The iron golem anticipated her command. Standing in a single fluid movement, Bosh brought his hands together—behind him. The clap crushed a vedalken to pulp and shut the golem’s open access door at the same time. Spinning to face the remaining guard, the golem let the vedalken’s limp body fall to the ground.

  Glissa didn’t see any more. With her arms still held firm by two guards, she kicked her legs into the air, flipping over backward and coming down behind the vedalken. Twisting, she got one arm lose. That was all she needed.

  Funneling mana into a spell, the elf willed her body strong as a bear, her skin tough as bark. Her arms grew thick and muscular, and her once-lithe elf frame doubled then tripled. Reveling in her new found power, Glissa scooped up the guard who still had hold of her arm and lifted him over her head. With a feral grunt, she heaved him against the wall of the chamber. His face mask cracked from the impact, leaving a wet streak down the wall as he slid to the ground.

  Turning, Glissa reached for the other guard, but he was gone. A human soldier had the crook of his staff wrapped around the vedalken’s neck, the tip dripping blood as it poked from his throat. The rest of the vedalken guards had suffered similar fates, and as quickly as it had started, the fight was over.

  Bruenna, her arms draped over the shoulders
of two soldiers, hobbled up to the elf.

  “They got here just in time,” she said.

  Glissa looked around. “These are your soldiers?”

  Bruenna chuckled. “You saw the marketplace. Many people from my village work inside Lumengrid.”

  “But they seemed so scared before. Everyone scattered when Pontifex came through.” She scratched her chin. “What makes them so brave now?”

  “There is no love for the vedalken in my village,” replied Bruenna. “When the time comes, we take care of our own.”

  Bosh stepped up beside the women, Slobad on his shoulder. “No time to waste,” he said. “The other vedalken warriors will be coming from the pool any minute.” He ran his huge, glowing eyes over the floor. “I do not think they will be happy to see us.”

  Glissa leaned back onto a comfortable bed and pulled her boots from her feet. Quicksilver rushed onto the floor. As Bruenna had said, it had been an easy thing to catch a vedalken transport from Lumengrid. The humans far outnumbered the blue-skinned, four-armed creatures. Once the group had hit the lower levels, they disappeared in the crowd of human workers.

  Now she was safely inside the human settlement of Medev. Bruenna had been immediately carted off to a healer. Glissa, Slobad, and Bosh had been shown to a large metal building, not unlike Bruenna’s own home. Three well-made beds with soft cloth coverings greeted them inside. Slobad lounged on one of them now. Bosh sat beside another, his body much too large to fit on the frame.

  “I’ve never seen a bed like this before,” said Glissa, as she dried the remainder of her body. “In the Tangle, there isn’t much cloth. The leaves and thorns tear it to shreds pretty quick. My mother had a shawl, but …” Glissa felt something stick in her throat, and tears welled up in her eyes.

  Slobad sat up on the bed, leaning toward the elf. Glissa smiled at him then looked away. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from running down her cheeks and took a deep breath. Behind her, the bed sagged under the goblin’s feet.

  Slobad put his arm around Glissa’s shoulder.

  “I miss them,” she said.

  Slobad sat down. “Yes.”

  “I think about them every day.” Glissa tried to hold back her emotions, but they were too overpowering, and she let out a sob.

  “I know.”

  The elf looked up at the goblin, puzzled. “How could you know that?”

  The goblin shrugged. “What? Think goblins got no feelings too? Slobad hear you talk ’bout parents, sister, friend Kane. Slobad lose friends too.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I know you have feelings.”

  Slobad smiled.

  Glissa wiped away a tear. “Will you tell me about some of the friends you lost?”

  Slobad nodded. “When Slobad little goblin, go with other goblins to hunt squirrels.” His head drooped as he spoke. “Little goblins surprised by two clockwork dragons.”

  “Clockwork dragons? I thought they were just a myth.”

  “Think Slobad make something up, huh?” snorted the goblin. “They real, you bet. Kill all the goblins.” He nodded. “Except Slobad.”

  “What happened?”

  “One minute Slobad deep in crevasse, poking for squirrels. Then screaming. Slobad hit head.” The goblin rubbed his scalp, as if he was remembering the pain.

  “Someone was holding you?” Glissa scratched her head. “You mean like with a rope?”

  “No. Crazy elf. By ankles. Never catch squirrels before, huh?”

  “What?” Glissa shifted to face the goblin. “By the ankles? I’ve hunted a lot of things but never that way.”

  “ ’Course,” said Slobad, he held up both arms. “How you think goblin get really good squirrels, huh?”

  Glissa laughed. “That’s a good question.” She settled back into her place on the bed. “I guess I hadn’t thought of that. Anyway, what happened next?”

  “Slobad climb back up, nothing of other goblins but bloody bones and bits.” Slobad cringed.

  “That’s terrible.”

  The elf and the goblin sat silently for a while, looking at the floor. Glissa massaged her forehead and eye lids, feeling the wetness from her tears cover her fingertips.

  “Do you still think about your friends?”

  The goblin nodded.

  “Every day?”

  The goblin nodded again.

  “Does it ever get any better? I mean, does thinking about them hurt less?”

  At this, Slobad lowered his eyes. “Depends. Sometimes, not so bad, huh? Other times … not so good.”

  Glissa nodded. She wiped the rest of the tears off of her face and looked at Bosh still sitting at the foot of his bed.

  “How about you?” she asked. “Now that you have your memory back is there anything you miss?”

  “Yes,” replied the golem, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I miss being all metal.” Bosh lifted his arm up to reveal a large tear near his elbow. A thick red and black liquid dripped from the opening.

  Glissa jumped up from the bed. “You’re bleeding.” Crouching down beside the golem, she examined the wound.

  A large patch right above his elbow had changed from a dark gray to a lighter peach color that resembled the complexion of human skin. Up close, it looked as if part of Bosh’s forearm had simply transformed from metal into flesh.

  Glissa poked at the wound with her finger. The flesh was primarily just on the surface. She could feel the metal underneath. Only near his elbow did it feel more like the deep, meaty flesh of an elf or a goblin.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  “Hurt?”

  “Can you feel my finger touching you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does it feel bad?”

  “Yes.”

  She and Slobad spoke at the same time. “It hurts.”

  Glissa examined the golem more extensively. In several other places, the dark metal seemed paler. She turned and looked at Slobad.

  “How could this be happening? I mean every flesh creature has some metal in her body—” she held up her own arm as proof—“but I’ve never seen a metal creature become flesh.”

  This was true. Every organic creature on Mirrodin had some metal attached or growing from its body. The only completely flesh creature she’d met had been the troll Chunth, but he was very old. Everyone else, Slobad, her parents, even the other trolls, had bits of metal on their bodies. Glissa’s own forearms and shins were covered in metallic scales and claws.

  Slobad jumped down off the bed and padded over to his two friends. He leaned in close, looking at the fleshy patches on Bosh’s arm and abdomen. The goblin climbed up the golem’s shoulder, made a fist, and knocked on Bosh’s head.

  Bong … Bong … Bong.

  “Feel that?” asked the goblin.

  “No, but I can hear it.”

  The goblin grabbed a piece of peach-colored flesh between two fingers. “How ’bout this, huh?” He pinched Bosh.

  The golem flinched, tossing Slobad from his shoulder. “Yes.”

  The goblin landed hard on the bed behind the golem. The frame creaked, the mattress sagged then rebounded, and Slobad was tossed back into the air, bouncing twice on the soft bed before finally coming to rest.

  “Please,” said Bosh, “stop touching me. It feels very strange.”

  “I’m sorry, Bosh,” Glissa said. “We’re only trying to help.”

  “I know,” replied the golem, hanging his head.

  “It makes me sad to see you this way, Bosh.” Glissa touched his arm lightly. “I wish I knew what was happening.”

  Bosh nodded.

  “Until we figure it out, you’re going to have to be more careful about what you smash into.”

  “Crazy elf is right,” agreed the goblin. “Slobad can fix broken golem, not broken person, huh?”

  Bosh poked at the wound on his arm. “I am still a golem.”

  “Yes, you’re still a golem, but now you are …” Glissa fished around for the right word.
<
br />   “Fleshy,” finished the goblin.

  Glissa glared at rumpled green creature. “You’re not helping, Slobad.” She turned back to Bosh, watching the metal man poke and prod at the blotch of skin that was now part of his frame. She took a deep breath and threw her arms in the air. “Now you’re just more like me.”

  Bosh stopped his examination and turned his attention on the elf. “Like you?”

  “I guess so. I mean, I’m mostly flesh, but look.” She held up her leg, tracing the line between where her shin stopped and the metal plate that grew from her skin began. “We live in a metal world. The ground, the trees, even the grass is made of the stuff.”

  “So are golems,” interjected Bosh.

  “Yes, and so are golems. Even so, with everything else made of metal, maybe it’s not so bad to be a little ‘fleshy.’ ”

  * * * * *

  “Damn this flesh body.” Memnarch lifted himself from his serum infusion device. “Why is Memnarch cursed with such imperfection?”

  Malil stood by the door, waiting out another of his master’s tirades.

  “But with the elf, yes, with the elf, Memnarch will be metal again.” He crossed to the scrying pool. “No. Memnarch will not be metal. Memnarch will be better than metal.” The guardian shuffled across the floor of his laboratory, shaking his head. “No. No. That is foolish. There is no such thing. Is not that right, Malil?”

  “What’s right, Master?”

  Memnarch lifted himself away from the scrying pool, turning his whole body toward his servant. “Have you not been following what we have been telling you? How do you expect to learn if you do not listen to us?”

  “I have been listening, Master, but I must confess, I do not completely understand.”

  “Memnarch understands enough for the both of us.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “The Creator understands enough for all three of us and worlds beyond.”

  “The Creator, Master?”