The room was small, almost tiny. If Venser had ever imagined what it would be like to be inside a stomach, that would have been what he imagined. It was roughly circular and soft all over. The hole they had all been spit from opened again and pushed out Koth, who lay panting in the goo that covered them all.
“It’s like being born again,” the vulshok said, when he had his breath. Venser could not help but chuckle. Elspeth smiled. The fleshling blinked.
Venser touched the wall. Nothing happened. There were no other doors, just the tiny room. It seemed to get smaller after Venser touched the wall. He went to another side and touched the wall again. A mouth opened. A mouth with teeth.
“Try the other wall,” Koth said.
Venser did, and a toothless mouth creased into existence.
“How is it there are mouths now when there were round, lidded doorways before?” Elspeth said. “When we started this trip.”
Venser shrugged. “I think we are deeper than we were when we started. It seems we travel inside Phyrexians after we pass some point. That would be my guess.”
But the mouth that had carried them out opened. From down its gullet, they heard the struggling cries of many Phyrexians.
“They are coming up after us,” Koth said.
The next mouth appeared the same as the last they had used, and Elspeth went first. Koth followed and then Venser.
The trip was much the same as before, only longer. The mouth dropped them in a small fleshy room with a doorway into another vast cavern, the walls of which were covered in pipes and tubes.
The temperature was noticeably hotter. A glow emanated from far away across the cavern, and they walked that way. The fleshling walked between Elspeth and Koth, with her arms over both of their shoulders. Venser would not get too near the unwashed human.
They walked until Elspeth called a halt. The glow in the room only lit the lower portions, but upper reaches were dark. It was into that darkness that Elspeth pointed.
“What is that?” Elspeth said.
Venser squinted into the darkness. High up in the shadows a small form moved. It appeared to be flapping, but was very small and far away. As his eyes became accustomed to peering into the darkness, another form flapped itself into focus. Still another small thing was flying lower and the artificer made out its general form. It was very small, about as long as the last digit of his thumb. It had fleshy, beige membranes that it flapped, trailing bits of itself behind. Its body was round and oval shaped.
Next to Venser, Koth stared up at the same form. “It can’t be,” he said.
“What?” Elspeth said, looking at the vulshok.
“It’s impossible.”
“Do speak, vulshok,” Venser said, staring at Koth.
“That,” Koth said, “is a blinkmoth, unless I am a fool.”
“I will not comment on whether or not you are a fool,” Venser said, looking back at the strangely saggy little form flying at the edge of the darkness above. He had heard of the elusive creatures, of course, from Karn. He even happened to know that the drink he took to stave off the palsy contained some of their potent distillate.
They were farmed to near extinction long ago, Karn had told him. He had also told him how sad it made him that the only native life-form on Mirrodin had been used so poorly. But looking upon the rare creatures all he could think was how ugly they looked.
“How many are there up there?” Elspeth said.
Koth was beyond words, staring up at the moths.
“Four perhaps,” Venser said. “Should we see? I think we can risk some light.” Without waiting for an answer, Venser snapped a blue wisp into existence. He flung it up. The strand traveled up and up, and up some more. The ceiling was exceedingly high, but soon the wisp stopped. Venser concentrated on it and it began to glow brightly.
“Blazing ore!” Koth hissed.
The entire upper portion of the cavern was thick with the moths, flapping and bumping into one another. Koth looked around the room.
“Was this a farm?” he said. “I did not know they existed underground. They are never found in numbers such as this anymore. Never.” He looked back to the blinkmoths.
“They are the only natives to this place and were made by Karn’s hand,” Venser said. “Therefore, they are living manifestations of his creative essence.”
“Well, they do not fill me with awe,” Elspeth said. She squinted at the other side of the huge space. “They are rather runty little things, in fact.” She kept squinting.
“They were supposed to be gone long ago,” Koth said. “Gone to vedalken harvest.”
“They live, all right,” Elspeth said. “It is us I worry about. I see shapes advancing on us.”
Koth’s eyes instantly turned to where Elspeth was staring. Many dark shapes no larger than the blinkmoths were loping toward them across the wide room.
“They are Phyrexians,” Venser said, still watching the blinkmoths. The more he watched them the more he wanted some of his potion. The more his chin began to shake.
“How do you know?” It was Koth who spoke.
“I can feel their metal feet vibrating the floor.”
The others were quiet as they felt for the vibrations. The floor trembled under their feet.
“There are very many of them,” Koth said.
They were advancing from all sides, and in large numbers. The Phyrexians surged toward the island of blue light cast by Venser’s wisps.
Koth was already as red as an ember. He cracked his neck and stretched his arms behind his back in preparation. Elspeth’s sword was out. She held it loosely at her side watching the howling hoard advance on them. Venser was fighting hard to resist the desire rising in his chest to pull the tiny cork out of his flask and drain the few drops remaining down his throat. The three Planeswalkers had formed a triangle around the fleshling, who stood watching the advancing Phyrexians with a look of resolute detachment.
“How many are their numbers?” Koth asked.
“Plenty for all,” Elspeth hissed.
Then they were close, the Phyrexians, and Elspeth raised her sword and began running. She crashed into the first line of the enemy at a brisk trot—cutting three down with strikes too fast to see. The Phyrexians in her area trampled one another as they struggled to form a dense clump around her while she moved about her grim work, chopping each and every one of them down. In the red-tinged light, with Venser’s blue wisps overhead, her sword blazed a bright white, and many of the Phyrexians fell back, screaming.
Koth had grown long columns of loosely held rock out of his wrists which he used as whips. With these he was able to crush lines upon lines of Phyrexians.
But still more of the gabbling, dripping abominations pushed forward.
Venser fell back to stand next to the fleshling. When seven Phyrexians got too near, Venser blew out a cloud that caused their metal substructures to turn to the consistency of warm lead, and they fell apart into messes of writhing skin and sinew.
The pile of Phyrexian dead around Elspeth got higher and higher until Venser could not easily see the white warrior. But he could see her bright blade, and unless he was very wrong, it was not swinging as fast as it had been. Koth too was letting his rock whips rest on the floor as he huffed.
Venser watched a force of perhaps twenty Phyrexians break away from the group awaiting Elspeth’s attention and circle around to him and the fleshling. Venser looked past them. He noticed that the darker, far away parts of the huge room were without Phyrexians. He could teleport them there and stage attacks from that relative safety.
With the fleshling’s hand in his, Venser closed his eyes. He mouthed the words of power and felt the pull, then pop that told him he had left. But something was wrong. When he opened his eyes, both he and the fleshling were floating momentarily high above the ground, in the flock of blinkmoths. Far below, Venser saw Elspeth and Koth battling the Phyrexians in two pools of light. A blinkmoth flew into his check and another against his l
eg. The fleshling was convulsing and jerking on the end of his arm and Venser himself felt a tremendous fluttering all through his body like he would vomit three hundred times at once.
Then they began to fall.
He closed his eyes, but found it difficult to find the words that had come so easily before they appeared in the group of blinkmoths. As they picked up speed Venser set his mind on the floor, imaging what it looked like.
They were plummeting downward.
Venser took a last breath. He had only moments, he knew. He forced the words out of his mouth and with a sudden pop they appeared sprawled and dizzy on the hot floor.
Off to their side, Elspeth’s sword flashed and the Phyrexians screamed in the rosy light. Koth’s rock whips boomed on the floor. But Venser knew he could not stand. He lay with all of his limbs trembling so that he could not trust them to move where he told them. His heels banged on the floor rhythmically and his neck was jerking his chin back and forth. A blinkmoth crawled down his neck.
The fleshling was standing above him in the dimness, her eyes glowing a slight blue as she looked down at the artificer. Even in his state, Venser knew that the fleshling’s eyes were not glowing before he had teleported with her. His trembling continued until suddenly it stopped. He lay gasping and exhausted until the last tremors finally left. It had never been that bad, even after that first teleport that caused the whole mess.
Still the fleshling stared down at Venser with her blue eyes glowing impassively. “I can feel the blinkmoths inside me,” the fleshling said. “I can feel them flying in my skull.”
There was a certain calmness to her that put Venser in mind of Karn. She was telling him there were moths in her skull as calmly as she might that she preferred cloudy skies to sunny.
“I feel … different,” she said.
“I also do,” Venser said. It was true. He felt much worse than he had before. Plus, his right hand would not totally stop shaking. Even if he concentrated, it would not stop. Concentration always stopped it in the past.
Venser managed to push himself up off the floor. His head spun and he sat down hard. Still the fleshling watched him. “Help me up,” Venser said.
She bent and took Venser’s hand and helped him to his feet. He felt awful, like his brain was still half-materialized in his head. He knew that each teleport made his condition worse, but it was a drastic worsening of symptoms.
“You are wounded?” the fleshling said, cocking her head to the side as she waited for the answer.
“Yes. Are you?”
“No,” the fleshling said. “I feel every pore in my body.”
“And what do they feel like?”
“They feel like they are dancing.”
Unfortunately, Venser realized exactly what she was describing. He had felt it after he started drinking his potion. He had not felt that strong a reaction since he started depending on it.
Something screamed and they turned in time to see Elspeth hammer her blade down on the head of a large Phyrexian. As they watched, the creature’s two parts peeled apart to the chest, and it fell back, kicking. It was the last of the beasts, and Elspeth put her sword tip down and leaned heavily on it, gasping for air, her shoulders stooped.
Koth was lying on his back with his arms and legs splayed, huffing. The bodies of the fallen enemy lay in stinking piles all around. The far-away glowing side of the cavern flickered.
Venser stood unsteadily.
“We must walk,” the fleshling said. “We must.” She turned and began walking toward the glow. Elspeth nodded and began stumbling after the fleshling, unbelievably dragging her sword behind her. Venser followed. Koth stood up from the floor and ambled after them.
They slept where they fell, each taking turns on watch. When Venser woke he went looking for water pools left from the dripping of the upper levels. He found some shallow pools to drink from. The others woke and Venser showed them the pools and then they all walked on, clanking steps on the metal floor.
Venser’s hand was still shaking, and he kept it out of sight from the others. The fleshling’s eyes were still glowing, and Elspeth and Koth, Venser noticed, did not move too close to her.
Time meant nothing in the dim cave, lit from the far-off glow. Without a sun or a moon it was impossible to keep track of time. But to Venser it seemed as though they walked for hours, perhaps days. Twice they stopped their march to sleep. Once they found a small pool rippling with warm, stagnant water which they fell on. The fleshling could not bend her back well. She drank out of Venser’s helmet. As she was drinking Venser could not help but imagine what water out of his filthy helmet would taste like. He would never find out, that much he could guarantee.
By what might have been day four—or perhaps only ten hours—the glow had become noticeably brighter. They could easily see the expressions on one another’s faces. Koth’s face was smiling. There was the particular stench of sulfur in the air.
“I know raw metal when I smell it,” Koth said.
He was correct. They kept walking and found a river of rosy material flowing along a wall of pipes, which were sweating in the sweltering heat. The flow of molten material ran along the side of the wall for a time before making an abrupt turn left and passing through a hole.
“Do we follow the river?” Elspeth whispered to Venser.
“What did you say?” Koth said.
“I only inquired if he thinks we should follow the lava.”
“That is not lava,” Koth said. “That’s ore.”
“Why is it here?” Venser said.
Koth shrugged and looked back at the river, smiling. After watching it move for a time the vulshok turned back.
“I will lead us from here,” he said, casually. “I will bring us up to the surface.”
“What is the furnace layer?” Venser said.
“Must be the area under the Red Lacunae, under Kuldotha.”
“Can you take us there?” Venser said.
“Maybe. If I choose.”
“Well, choose to take us there,” Venser said. “Lead the way. That Tezzeret said the Phyrexians in the furnace layer are different than the others.”
Koth grunted and looked away, the smile still large on his face.
They walked on with Koth strutting at the lead. For a time they followed as close to the river as the heat would allow. But when it disappeared they walked along the wall. Koth looked closely at the wall as they walked. Every so often he would stop and touch the wall. Venser, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the floor. In the light from the molten ore he could clearly see a part of the wall coming up with many scuffs, some of them deep, leading to a section of the wall.
When they reached that part of the wall, Koth continued walking. Venser stopped. He carefully shrugged out from under the fleshling’s arm. He went to the part of the wall that the scuffs seemed to move to. The pipes were mostly rigid there. But after some feeling around and moving some of the more pliable conduit aside, he must have touched a trigger because a doorway opened. Koth walked back.
“Excellent,” he said. But he did not look pleased, Venser thought. The smile he had earlier turned into a frown. “I would have found that eventually.”
They gazed into the doorway. Inside was a largish, brightly lit room with no apparent ceiling. On the other side of the room were a set of metal stairs against the wall. They extended up and up until they were lost to the light in the room.
But the room was not empty. Two large Phyrexians were standing against the wall. The dark iron of their long claws was corroded, as were the plates on their backs and shoulders. But their helmets were off and thrown to the side. Their tiny white heads, which looked like stitched-together bone, bobbed as they made guttural sounds to each other. Other pieces of their metal coverings were cast aside in the swelter of the room. Venser could see their chests and necks, where tattered metal met chafed flesh.
They watched a writhing lump of something on the floor. It seemed a partially phyrexiani
zed elf. It still had the ears of an elf, but plates of bloody, patinated copper pushed out of its skin and wove in with a darker metal to make a musclelike sheathing. The transformation was far from complete, and the elf convulsed on the floor, staring with eyes as black as oil at the dark ceiling.
But the Phyrexians seemed utterly absorbed in the process. As Venser watched, one of them lumbered up and pulled one of its claws across the elf’s bare neck. The blood that flowed out was mostly black. By the time the Phyrexian had moved back to its original spot, more of the copper and dark metal sheathing had wound itself up the elf’s arm and to the slice, covering it.
Venser felt a shiver of disgust move up his spine at the sight of the elf’s flesh turning to metal. But anger replaced that feeling. The fleshling shifted her weight to his shoulder as Elspeth detached herself. She stepped into the room and drew her sword quietly from its sheath. The Phyrexians did not notice her at first, and by the time they did Elspeth had gained the middle ground and was upon them. Venser had seen her many times use her sword ability to strike from every angle at once. Elspeth took exactly two swipes with the glittering blade. The first separated the Phyrexian’s neck and arm from its body and sent it caterwauling away, and the second was a downward strike that split the other’s head and shoulder from the neck offering up a virtual geyser of black, frothy material from the cut.
The smell of the material that poured from the thrashing Phyrexians’ bodies put Venser in mind of the acrid reek of a crushed bug.
Elspeth moved to the elf next. The wretch watched her approach with black ichor clouding her eyes. With a flick of her wrist, the white warrior knocked the elf’s head away.
Elspeth stared down at the headless body jerking around on the floor. She turned and went back to the fleshling, who put her arm over Elspeth’s shoulder.
Venser made it light when he blew out a puff of wispy shapes that danced and flickered blue before their eyes. In the ghostly light Koth looked at Elspeth and Venser and spat. They were reeking and sweating, with a crazed look about them.
Scars of Mirrodin: The Quest for Karn Page 13