by Doug Beyer
But in truth, it wasn’t the strife of the colliding worlds that had come between them. Levac was sick with guilt about Vali; he had earned as much blame as Salay put on him.
Once, as the two of them had traveled across Grixis, Levac had seen his son. It was his son’s same tunic, same hat, and the same leather short sword scabbard he had carved—but it was a Valishaped monster wearing them. He didn’t dare tell Salay—it would destroy her. Instead he stalled, every day coming up with any reason he could think of not to make for that glow on the horizon, hoping against hope that there might be some way to reach his son, and somehow get him back.
There was the sound of wings outside the wooden shack. Another one of the sickly-feathered kathari, probably. Levac looked out through a crack in the roof. Strangely, the kathari didn’t have the characteristic bent neck and black feathers—its feathers were a vibrant mottled white and brown, and it wore shining metal armor across its breast. The bird-man circled once, cocking an eye down at their hiding place, and then flew off out of sight.
“What was it?” asked Salay.
Levac picked up his sword. “I’m not sure. Something … new is happening,” he said.
JUND
Kresh put the point of his sword through one of the undead, directly through its ribcage, a little to the side of its sternum. It was just another foe, right? At least it fell just like one, perhaps a little sloppier as it fell off the blade. And the gray ichor that came out of them stung the skin, but that was no different than the spit of a common thrinax that came from his own world. If the undead were the extent of the invasion into Jund, he felt he could probably handle it.
The truly upsetting thing about them was that, despite being dead, lying down seemed difficult for them.
“Kresh, behind you!” yelled the white-furred cat-man.
Kresh whirled blade-first, trusting the white cat implicitly, and sure enough, one of the walking corpses had stood back up after being gutted. The thing had been about to drag its claws down Kresh’s back, and instead got four inches of heavy steel buried in its face. It fell—with the blade still in it. Kresh didn’t bother retrieving his sword, but instead pivoted and elbowed another one of the things in the return motion, breaking its jaw. It didn’t faze the thing. So he charged right into it, catching it in the chest and forcing it back onto the spiny growths of a nearby tukatongue tree. It didn’t stop the undead creature from writhing or moaning, but it bound it up.
The cat-man was fighting with an undead creature whose face was more mouth than anything else, its eyes grafted into its shoulders. He was holding it off, but didn’t see the two others rushing up from behind him.
“Ajani!” Kresh yelled, and ran to tackle one of them, but Ajani’s next attack caused him to reconsider. He dove away just in time, as Ajani held his double-headed axe at the very end, right down by the near axe head, and swung it around above him. He roared, and the axe burst into … something like flame, but searing white. The weapon carved through all three undead creatures, incinerating their flesh like it was paper. They didn’t get back up. Ajani kept swinging his axe, thrashing through the bodies until all the undead creatures had perished. He even finished off the one that was stuck to the tukatongue tree.
The warrior-leader and the nacatl exchanged a look. In other circumstances they might have grinned at each other, but they didn’t quite.
“I like how you fight, white cat,” said Kresh.
“So do I,” said a voice. It came from the forest shadows somewhere up ahead. They all looked to try to discern its origin.
There was a clap of thunder. It rolled across the sky from the direction they had been traveling, up over their heads, and past them. There was the smell of ozone, and a buzzing, moaning sound.
Out of the darkness of the tukatongue wood stepped Rakka.
ESPER GRIXIS FRONTIER
A head the terrain changes again, Knight-General,” said Kaeda, Rafiq’s aven scout.
“All right,” said Rafiq. “What’s your report?”
“You aren’t going to like it.”
Rafiq frowned. “Tell me.”
The aven seemed nervous. Or shaken. It was hard for Rafiq to tell.
“It’s … scabrous. The terrain looks like it’s smelled for the last hour. There are hills of bone and flesh. The whole place is rotting in on itself.”
“Is it some sort of mass grave?”
“No. It’s more like the entire land itself is a grave. I flew for an hour into the interior of the place. It just goes on and on like that.”
What in Asha’s name? Were they marching into hell? “What’s the enemy situation?” asked Rafiq.
“There are swarms of dead creatures, like we’ve seen crossing over into the last region, Esper. They’re definitely originating from the place ahead of us, and they’re definitely an invasion force.”
“An invasion force? What’s their source?”
“We can’t tell from here. We’d need deeper reconnaissance.”
“Leadership?”
“Mages, most of them apparently also undead—clearly powerful. But mainly, some other, larger creatures appear to be in charge.”
“What creatures?”
“I’m not sure I have a word for them, Knight-General. Frankly, they look like demons.”
Demon. The word was archaic to Rafiq’s ears, a tattered remnant from ancient scripture. It was a word found only toward the end of the Prayer of Asha.
“Well, it’s not something we have the forces to fight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gear up, soldiers. We’ve got the materials we needed from Esper, and the information we needed from the world on the other side. Now we’re needed at home. It’s time to return to Bant, and rejoin the main force of Asha’s Army.”
“Sir, there’s one more thing,” said Kaeda.
“What is it?”
“There’s a small shack just past the frontier, just inside the dead lands. There appears to be living humans hiding in it, possibly a small family.”
JUND
As Ajani watched, the human woman stepped out from the shadows between the trees of Jund’s thorny undergrowth, malice swirling in her eyes. She was an older human, wiry-looking but sickly thin; her teeth were blackened points. Her eye sockets were deep, her lips were thin and dry, and her bare arms looked like sticks coming out of her shaman’s tunic. Still, Ajani could feel the power emanating off her. Her hair stood out from her head slightly, as if she were a frightened animal, but she didn’t look frightened. Branching rivers of bluish light played down her bony arms and arced between her fingers.
“You look bad, Rakka,” snarled Kresh. “You’ve been dipping into some wicked magics. And treachery was ugly enough on you.”
Kresh was stepping slowly toward her. He angled his head to pop a joint in his neck, and he collected a sword from a fallen comrade. He was going to kill her, Ajani realized.
“I need her alive, Kresh,” Ajani warned.
“You’re worse than a pawn, Kresh,” Rakka said. “You’re the pawn who thinks he’s the sovereign. That’s of no use to anybody.” She stepped forward toward him, her hands crackling. “If you were smarter, smart enough to understand your stupidity, then there could be a place for you in my master’s world, or in mine. We could find you quite useful. But as it is”—she continued stepping forward—“you’ll serve me much better dead.”
Rakka thrust her arms forward, discharging a bolt of lightning directly into Kresh. The bolt hit him like a charging animal; the impact lifted him off the ground and threw him back two body lengths. He landed on the ground and rolled to a stop, face down.
Ajani rushed over to him and knelt down beside him. The man was alive, but his body trembled and twitched. There was a black mark on his back, from which wafted a wisp of ugly-smelling smoke.
Kresh’s warriors pointed spears straight at Rakka.
“Hold it,” Ajani told them, and they didn’t advance. Ajani looked up at the shama
n. “This ends here,” he said to her. “You’ll stand down, and then you’ll tell me what I need to know.” He knelt there with his hand on Kresh, trying to call upon the sun-drenched glades of Naya as he spoke. “Or I’ll add you to the trail of bodies I’ve left behind me.”
“I’ve not seen your kind, otherworlder,” she said. She folded her hands and looked him up and down. “But I can see the strength in you. You’ve got a deep spirit—it feels a bit like another being I know.”
Ajani’s fingers touched Kresh’s back. He could feel the burn wound ripped inside of him, traveling all the way through the man’s body. He sent a spell into the man, and felt the tissues realigning and the organs mending.
“That’s what I’ve come for, Rakka,” said Ajani. “I want to meet your master, Nicol Bolas.”
“Oh, his reputation precedes him, then? That’s good. He’s always looking for powerful recruits, so I think he would like that very much. He’s far away from here, but I could lead you to him.” she said. “But, I’m afraid that’s going to cost you.” She stretched her hands out, drawing a web of electricity between them.
“What do you want?”
She smirked, and nodded to the fallen Kresh. “Him,” she said. Then she gestured with her head to the rest of Kresh’s warriors. “And all of them. Dead. By your hand.”
The warriors murmured angrily.
“Calm down, calm down,” said Ajani. “That’s not going to happen, Rakka. What if I take this axe, and put it to your skinny throat, and just threaten to kill you instead?”
“Killing me won’t get you to my master.” Her voice went grave. “And believe me, I won’t break from threat of pain, or by pain itself. I’ll go insane first.”
Ajani’s eyes narrowed.
“Besides,” she said, twisting threads of lightning between her bony fingers, “I’ve been trying out some new magics recently, new elements from a whole other world. It’s quite powerful; I’m not sure I’m able to handle it. Who knows? I could be liable to kill myself at any moment.” The glow of the energy lit her face from below, shading her eyes.
Ajani’s anger rose. He was almost certain he could destroy the older woman with one swift motion, but he didn’t know anyone else on the plane who could lead him to his goal, to seek revenge on Bolas. Without her, he could never get to the source of the conspiracy. Without her he was lost. She was his last hope.
“Time’s up, brother,” said Jazal’s voice inside his head. “Your vengeance, or your friends. What will it be?”
GRIXIS
Rafiq crashed through the door of the small hermitage. Protective carvings around the door frame blasted blue fire blasted at him, but it only rolled off the wards carved in his armor. In the darkness he saw the points of a sword, and fell into a defensive stance, but relaxed when he saw that, indeed, it was a living human who held the blade.
A bearded man held a sword at Rafiq, and behind him huddled a woman, her hands on her abdomen: another on the way, and soon. Their faces were gaunt and smeared with grime.
The man waggled his sword at Rafiq. “Begone, demons!” he said.
“We’re not demons,” said Rafiq. “Listen, there isn’t much time. Come with us. We’re human, like you.”
“Demons wear the faces of friends, and speak their words,” said the man. “Or you might be necromancers—our wards attacked you. I warn you, if you take another step, I’ll run you through.”
Behind him, the woman was sucking in breaths through her mouth.
“We have to go,” said Rafiq. “I am from another land, a world called Bant. We came here to rescue you from your … demons. I do not know this word ‘necromancer,’ but I assure you I’m not one to fear. Your ward-spells probably didn’t recognize me as one of your own, but I am an honest man, one whom you can trust. Come, now.”
The woman moaned and clutched her swollen belly.
“My wife is heavy with child,” said the man.
Rafiq considered. “Are these protection wards still active?”
“No. They are spent now. A mage would have to reactivate them before another attack.”
Rafiq wondered how they had survived for so long.
“Then I’m sorry,” he said, “but we’ll have to move. We’re heading out of here, and you’re coming with us.”
“My wife will not be able to travel!” protested the man.
“Yes, I will, Levac,” said the woman. “Help me up.”
Rafiq nodded at her respectfully. “I’ll bring the cart around. When I give you the signal, you run to the vehicle drawn by the large lions.”
The man and the woman exchanged a glance. Then the man spoke. “Before we go, I have … one small request.”
JUND
Ajani looked over the fallen form of Kresh, and Kresh’s warriors, and back to Rakka. She would give him exactly what he needed—the location of her master, the one who ruled the darkened world on the other side of Alara, and the key to who killed Jazal—but only at the cost of the humans.
But that’s all they were, right? thought Ajani. Some humans? They were the same bloodthirsty species that had chased him down and almost killed him, just for being a cat that matched some shaky prophecy. He owed them for that. Ajani felt heat in the veins behind his eyes. His heart churned with lava.
Rakka was beaming. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find the fire in you. It’s gratifying to see.” Her face darkened. “Now let’s see you let it out.”
Ajani turned and looked into the face of one of Kresh’s warriors. She was a young woman, sinewy and agile, with ceremonial stripes of yellow and jade stained into her muscular arms and thighs. She met his gaze and held her spear steady.
“You won’t live through this,” Ajani heard himself say.
“I’m not afraid to die,” she said.
There was a sanguine haze over Ajani’s vision. He saw blood dripping down her forehead and down her hands. Humans: useless vermin who only brought death. His fist constricted around the handle of his double-headed axe, as if it were trying to squeeze a delicate throat.
No, he thought. It was wrong.
But if he didn’t do it, he would never avenge Jazal. His spirit would coil forever in agony.
But that wasn’t her fault, he thought. Not that one woman standing there.
“We don’t have to do it this way,” Ajani said. “You’re allowed to run.”
“Never,” the woman scoffed.
“But I … I have to do it. It’s my only way out. It’s for my brother.”
She held her ground. “Do what you have to do, white cat. I’m not leaving until my Tol there is fully alive—and she is fully dead.” She cocked her head toward Rakka.
Rakka chortled.
“But I can’t get through you,” the warrior continued. “So it’s your move.”
Ajani stepped evenly over to the woman. The other warriors watched him carefully, but didn’t advance on him. He put his hand up under her jaw, so that the points of his claws curved around to just touch her cheeks on either side.
He glanced at Rakka. She was smiling. She nodded.
It would be so easy just to squeeze, Ajani thought. One squeeze, and he could end his torment and Jazal’s. One squeeze, and he could channel all his rage, and crush his troubles inside of a fist.
With his claw, he turned the woman’s head to Rakka as he himself turned his own head to the shaman. The warrior was going to want to see it.
Ajani willed a bolt of rage and force at Rakka, and in a flash it manifested from Ajani’s body and smashed into her. The elementalist crashed head over heels, breaking through the spiny trunks of two tukatongue trees, her body landing somewhere out of sight. At the impact, a blinding cascade of lightning burst from where she landed, pent-up magic released by her death. A crack of thunder followed an instant later, echoing in the woods around them.
Ajani released the woman’s face and stepped back, taking and releasing a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
<
br /> “I thought she was your only way out,” said the warrior, angling an eyebrow.
“I’ll figure something out,” said Ajani.
“You were tempted, I could tell,” she said.
“Let’s get Kresh on his feet,” said Ajani. “We have a murderer to find.”
GRIXIS
Ready?” whispered Rafiq.
Both the human survivor Levac and the aven Kaeda nodded in unison.
The plan was all stealth and speed, with no fighting if they could help it. From their hiding place behind a stack of huge bones, Rafiq could see the vastness of the undead army to which the boy belonged. Fighting was not going to be a viable option. If it didn’t work, they would just have to abandon the boy and head back to Bant without him. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He re-checked the boy’s position in the army, and then tested the knots on the net and the line. It was as good as it was going to get.
“Let’s do it,” said Rafiq.
He and Levac rushed out from their hiding place, remaining as huddled and as quiet as they could. They ran to the edge of the marching swarm of undead, carrying the net between them. Behind them dangled the line that was attached to the net, leading back to their hiding place.
They managed to get the net around Vali with the first throw. It knocked the boy down, and he snarled and drooled a noxious ichor, thrashing around in the net. Rafiq instantly turned around and started running—but stopped when he saw that Levac hadn’t.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” he said.
But Levac’s eyes were locked on the rotting visage of his son, and he wouldn’t budge. The other undead turned to face them, scraping moaning sounds out of their dead lungs.
Kaeda flew straight up from behind their hiding place, the rope in his talons. He had doffed his heavy armor to lighten his load. Soon the line was taut, and he yanked the net, thrashing boy and all, into the air.