Time Spiral

by Scott McGough

  His voice grew louder, more dire, and the ground shook from the sound. There will be no more trees felled in Skyshroud, no more villagers press-ganged into combat. Teferi Planeswalker is the new King of Keld, and any warlord who wants to run a ’host here will do so only with Teferi’s blessing, or he will face Teferi’s wrath.

  Now get out of my sight.

  The Gathans stood motionless, unblinking. The overseer’s whip flicked out again and burst another raider into smoking fragments where he stood. This time those who stood beside the victim did roar, though Radha could not say if it was shock or rage that moved their tongues.

  I said “now.”

  To hammer the point home, the overseer now twirled his whip overhead, creating a huge loop of glowing red in the air above him. When the sound of the lash cutting the air was loud enough to sting Radha’s ears, the overseer’s arm shot straight up. The end of his whip rocketed skyward and cracked, its sharp end aglow and sparkling. The whip’s own weight carried it gently back down, falling through the icy air to land on the overseer’s head. The Gathan commander went up in a loud clap of thunder, a huge cloud of fire, and a ghastly shower of blood.

  The remaining Gathans broke and ran. They abandoned the carts and the slaves, knowing Greht valued those potential ships far more than the lives of the convoy escorts. They would all most likely have their throats cut as soon as they delivered their strange report, but right now their fear of Teferi was more immediate.

  Moments later, Radha was alone in the Gathan camp. No one else was alive, as she didn’t count the draught slaves still huddled in their pen. That state of splendid isolation ended suddenly as Teferi materialized in front of her.

  He was no longer dressed in his yellow and white robes of state and he had abandoned the gaudy hat. He was wearing a smart, well-tailored set of robes that were blue and white with a metallic diagonal checkerboard motif. He didn’t look angry, but neither did he look as jovial and benevolent as he had before. When he spoke, his voice had none of the smug, playful tone Radha had come to expect.

  Teferi extended his hand. “Join me,” he said.

  Radha grunted. She struggled once more to get to her feet but her muscles wouldn’t hold.

  “Dagger,” she said. Her words were clipped and painful and the less she said the less often the world went gray.

  “You have it in your hand.”

  “Other one.”

  Teferi’s eyes flashed as he scanned the area. “It’s not here. One of the Gathans must have pocketed it before he ran off.”

  Radha stared at Teferi through one half-open eye. “Lying?”

  “No.”

  “Bastard.” Radha sagged back onto her seat. Her head rolled to the side, but she jerked it back upright before she overbalanced.

  “Did good,” she said quietly. “With the whip. Thanks.”

  “Radha,” Teferi spoke coolly, sharply. “Join me. Accompany me on my travels, assist me in my endeavors, answer my questions, and obey my commands.”

  Radha rose back up to one knee. “Or?” she said.

  “Or nothing. Literally nothing, Radha of Skyshroud. If I cannot undo what I have done, if I cannot replace what I removed….” Teferi spread his arms out, and as he spoke the things he described appeared as pale blue visions above him. “All of this will spread. The withered mountains, the dying forest, the saprolings, the slivers, the Gathans. All of this slow, lingering death will expand and deepen. Everything will continue to degrade and decline, then it will all collapse in on itself and everything will die.

  “I have seen this, as surely as you see me.” He pushed his hand closer. “I will waste no more time here. What is your answer?”

  Radha inhaled as deeply as she could. She ground her teeth together and slowly, painfully, rose to her feet. When the jagged tingling sensation in her chest and the back of her head receded, she took another breath and said, “Does … does the Book of Keld … tell you why the Gathans are always stronger than I am?”

  Teferi nodded.

  “And you’ll tell me … if I help you.”

  “No bargains, Radha. You either help me or you don’t. Either way you must live with the consequences.”

  “Ahh,” she growled impatiently. “Stuff it. It’ll do for now.”

  Excellent. If you prefer, you may address me this way until we can get your wounds treated.

  Not interested. Radha sheathed her grandfather’s dagger. I am with you for now, but as soon as I learn the secret, I’m bringing it back here to burn Greht’s bones black.

  Teferi nodded. He extended his hand again. Radha stared at it for a moment, then into Teferi’s eyes. He held her gaze without wavering.

  Radha took his hand. She felt the sensation of slipping sideways through the world, and then she was gone.

  Teferi took Radha back to the Skyshroud valley. Freyalise’s advice about ’walking carefully near the rift was well-taken, but he was slowly coming to grips with it. It was akin to steering a ship through dangerous reefs while fighting a high wind and a strong current—dangerous and unpredictable but manageable if you paid careful attention to every detail.

  Jhoira and the Shivan warriors were waiting. It was clear from the look on Jhoira’s face that she would be asking things soon, and she wouldn’t be satisfied with flip half-answers.

  “We have returned,” Teferi called, though it was completely unnecessary.

  Jhoira and the others were already crossing the valley to meet them. The Shivans seemed suspicious of Radha, especially the viashino, but the Keldon elf was so calm and tranquil that Teferi stole a glance to make sure she was still conscious.

  She was, but she was also still very badly injured, bleeding from her side and cradling her injured ribs. Radha watched the Shivans approach with a smile so placid that Teferi found it somewhat disturbing.

  “Is she friendly now?” Aprem asked.

  He and Dassene came within ten feet of Radha and stopped, but the viashino came much closer. They stepped out and stood on either side of the recently arrived pair, their vertical pupils opened wide and fixed on Radha. Corus bore a rough bandage on his scaly throat. He hissed at Radha. She smiled.

  “She is,” Teferi said. “And she has agreed to join my service, the same as you four. If anyone bears grudges, now is the time to air them or put them aside. Either way, they are not to interfere with work from this point on. I want no more blood shed among ourselves.”

  “I have a grudge,” Corus said. “And it won’t be settled until I take a chunk out of her as big as the one she took out of me.”

  “You’re alone there,” Dassene said. She held up her bandaged hand that had lost two fingers to a Gathan blade. “She saved my behind back there. I’m her friend for life.”

  Radha flashed her teeth at Dassene. Then she turned to Corus and tilted her chin back. As she exposed her throat, Radha also put her hand on the remaining kukri dagger in her belt.

  “Come on then, scaly,” she said. “Take a bite.”

  Skive laughed. “Run through, half bled-out, and she still wants to fight.” His needle-sharp teeth glistened as his lips pulled back into a smile. “She looks like an elf but acts like a Keldon.”

  Radha lowered her chin. “A Keldon like no other.” She continued to hold her square-toothed grin at Corus.

  The big viashino crossed his arms, his sharp tongue flickering in and out. “Never mind. Just stop calling me ‘scaly’ and we’ll call it even.”

  Radha nodded. “Done. What shall I call you?” She looked around at the Shivans. “Who are you people, anyway?”

  Aprem bowed and introduced himself, but Dassene pushed past him and loudly swore a Ghitu oath of battlefield gratitude. The viashino still held back. Teferi was looking forward to seeing how the warriors sorted all this out. Jhoira stepped in front of him.

  “Hello, my friend,” he said. “Believe it or not, we’re making progress.”

  “You said we should air all grudges here and now. I have one.”r />
  “I thought you might.”

  Jhoira shook her head to cut short his frivolous banter before it built up any momentum. “Who is she?”

  “She is Radha. By blood she is both Keldon and Skyshroud elf. She believes her grandfather was the great warlord Astor, a hero of the Phyrexian Invasion.”

  Jhoira looked skeptical. “True?”

  “Who can say? I never met the man personally. Radha definitely has Keldon blood, so it might as well be Astor’s.”

  “Hmm. And you recruited her why?”

  “Because she is necessary. She is the only being we’ve seen so far who has a strong and reliable supply of mana. Not even Freyalise can draw much from the land here, nor I, and that’s largely because it simply doesn’t exist. Keld is as dead and dry as a fallow field, and Skyshroud barely survives because of its patron, but Radha has all the mana she needs, and more, whenever she wants it.”

  “That makes her unique,” Jhoira said, “not necessary.”

  Teferi hesitated. He didn’t want to speculate until he had more time to observe Radha, but something about Jhoira’s quiet intensity told him an educated guess was better than a witty rejoinder.

  “Radha was born on the Skyshroud rift,” he said.

  He gestured behind him and the jagged tear in reality over the forest became visible to mortal eyes, soaring high into the sunless afternoon sky. The phenomenon straddled the transplanted forest so that Skyshroud appeared ready to fall into a vast canyon of solid smoke.

  Nearby, Radha had moved back to the edge of the forest. The spell that protected Freyalise’s children was already beginning to heal her injuries, but it was an accelerated natural process rather than instant-results magic. She was slowly regaining her strength as her wounds closed and her bones knit. Dassene and Skive accompanied her, but all of the warriors fell silent as the rift appeared overhead … even Radha stared at the display in open-mouthed wonder.

  Teferi shifted from words to thoughts in order to keep his conversation with Jhoira private. Freyalise says the rift draws all of the local mana into itself, leeching it from the surrounding environment. I believe Radha gets her mana from that rift, drawing from it the way it draws from Keld. She wasn’t even born when the rift formed, but she is bound to it the way Keldons are bound to Keld, or Shivans to Shiv. The rift is her true home. It is her anchor to this world and the source of her magic.

  Jhoira turned this over in her head for a moment then said, “How does this tie back to Shiv’s return?”

  Teferi winced a little at the sound of her voice. There is almost certainly a similar rift over Shiv and Zhalfir, as well as several other places around the world where global-scale magic was employed or transplanar events took place. This time rift problem may be even more extensive than we thought. It’s entirely possible that every planeswalk to and from Dominaria since the dawn of time has created a miniature version of the phenomenon we see here. There could be millions of these time rifts throughout the multiverse. I plan to start with the larger ones and work my way down.

  “You make it sound like the entire universe has become structurally unsound.”

  I’m glad to hear it. That’s what I truly think has happened.

  “Shiv’s return will be the nudge that pushes everything past the breaking point.”

  At this point, that’s one of the only things I am completely sure of.

  Jhoira nodded. She replied with her thoughts this time. So you’re finally ready to take us home?

  Not quite. Not just yet. Jhoira opened her mouth to speak, but Teferi quickly added, We must first make one more stop along the way at the Burning Isles. The Phyrexians sent their mountain Stronghold there just as they sent the Skyshroud forest. There was no planeswalker to divert the Stronghold, however, so it landed on target.

  Jhoira did not look pleased. In Urborg, you mean.

  Yes. In Urborg.

  Hardly “on the way” to Shiv.

  Everywhere is “on the way” when you travel with a planeswalker. Unable to help himself, Teferi winked. Besides, it’s also on the way if you go by boat … and you go the long way around.

  Jhoira’s face remained impassive. What do you expect to find in Urborg when we reach the Stronghold?

  I expect to find a phenomenon like this one. I also expect to find the Urborg equivalent of her, he turned and pointed to Radha, a native who is connected to the Stronghold rift and can draw mana from it.

  Realization dawned on Jhoira’s face, but it was accompanied by a lingering shadow of doubt. There could be a Shivan equivalent as well, someone who was born on the section we left behind with an innate connection to the Shivan rift. She paused. Assuming it exists and that any of these rifts have any degree of commonality.

  Exactly. Teferi smiled, grateful for Jhoira’s quick grasp of the situation.

  But then … why not go directly to Shiv and examine the rift there? And the people, for that matter?

  Because the Phyrexians moved Skyshroud and the Stronghold. They helped make the rift that fuels Radha. We should look at the other rifts they made to find commonalities.

  Jhoira’s face darkened. The Phyrexians made rifts all over Dominaria. Will Shiv have to wait until you’ve searched every one?

  Absolutely not. Urborg is our final detour. I promise you: whatever we find at the Stronghold, we will continue directly to Shiv.

  Jhoira nodded, somewhat mollified. How long do we have?

  Teferi’s smile tightened. A matter of days.

  Days? I thought weeks.

  You were right, but there were variables that I had no way of knowing about…. He thought of Karona and the sudden absence and abrupt return of Dominaria’s magic.

  Teferi suddenly spoke aloud. “Time flowed differently in your workshop,” he said. “While we were there, a magical catastrophe happened in a place called Otaria.”

  Jhoira stood and stared. Teferi knew she was waiting for him to continue, but the words were flattening his tongue.

  “We’ve been gone three hundred years,” he said at last. “There was a second world-wide magical war barely a century or so after the Phyrexian Invasion. Ultimately, that war and the extra time we missed are the reasons Dominaria is so haggard and Shiv is coming back on its own.”

  His friend said nothing for a while. She looked off, away from Teferi and the forest behind him. Her lips twitched, a sure sign that she was running figures in her head.

  “I see,” she said, “so we go quickly to Urborg and then on to Shiv. Are you certain you can ’walk us there safely?”

  “I am.”

  “Then we should go.” Jhoira turned and strode toward the warriors at the treeline.

  “Jhoira,” Teferi called. He floated to her side and landed just in front of her. “I’m trying to keep you informed, I truly am, but there’s so much happening that I can’t tell what’s important. Please,” he said, “I don’t mean to keep secrets. I’ll tell you all I know if you’ll tell me what’s important.”

  Jhoira appraised his earnest expression and heartfelt words with a cold, clinical eye. She glanced over Teferi’s shoulder at the Shivans and said quietly, “Why are you wearing Tolarian robes?”

  Teferi shrugged as if nothing could be less important. “I was dealing with berserkers,” he said. “Playing the glib diplomat was getting me nowhere. I opted for the more practical, goal-oriented look.” He smiled guiltily. “Plus, Radha embarrassed me. I felt I was being made a fool of, so I reverted back to my academy days, when I was the one who did the fool-making.”

  Jhoira frowned. “You opted for a look that echoed Gatha’s. You dressed yourself as a Tolarian scholar in the hope it would impress or intimidate the raiders he helped create.”

  “That did cross my mind,” he said, “but it didn’t work. They didn’t even see me.”

  “But I can, and I don’t like it. Teferi the court mage is devious and secretive, but Teferi the academic is just plain reckless.”

  “Is that all?”

&
nbsp; The air around Teferi shimmered. When it cleared, he was not dressed as a goal-oriented academic or a glad-handing court mage, but as a simple Zhalfirin wizard in fine white linen with blue accents. He wore a square headdress that covered his bald pate and his shoulders and once more he carried the curved, spinelike staff.

  Jhoira did not comment on the change. Instead she looked once more past Teferi to the edge of the forest. Radha was there, standing tall once more, her arms both hanging freely at her sides.

  “Your necessary addition to the party seems fully healed,” Jhoira said.

  “Excellent. Then we can go—”

  “I want to talk to her,” Jhoira said.

  “Oh?” Teferi’s interest was piqued. “Why?”

  “Because she’s a Keldon. Because she’s already injured one of us.”

  “Corus very graciously let that pass.”

  “That’s Corus satisfied then. My name is Jhoira.”

  “Please,” Teferi said. He felt his smile growing strained. “I have extracted a vow of loyalty from her. It was a very trying and laborious process. You must trust me to—”

  “Must I? Then we have problem, old friend.” She stopped and looked at him coldly. “This isn’t about the rifts, or Radha, or the missing time. It’s about you keeping your hidden agenda hidden from me, because that’s the unpredictable element here that’s going to get us all killed.”

  Teferi stopped, his face a perfect study in forlorn regret. Jhoira didn’t see it, however, as she had already begun crossing the valley without glancing back.

  Jhoira marched up behind Aprem and Dassene, who were facing Radha.

  “Warrior,” she said to the Keldon elf, “we need to prepare you for the journey.”

  Radha rolled her neck. “Shoo, child. Adults are talking. Go back to your lessons and your long-winded mentor.”

  Jhoira’s cheeks flushed. She tapped each Ghitu warrior on the shoulder and said, “Step aside, please.”

  Aprem moved back without a word, but Dassene hesitated. “Ma’am,” Dassene started.

  “I said step aside.” Dassene did, and Jhoira stood almost face to face with Radha. The Keldon elf was far larger than she was, taller, broader, and longer. Jhoira stood staring up at Radha, their eyes locked.