The Moons of Mirrodin

by Will McDermott

  “What in the flare are you talking about?”

  “Precisely,” said Chunth. “Your flares. They have been unusual, haven’t they?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It is one of the signs of your power,” said the troll. “Tell me about them.”

  Glissa shook her head angrily. “I don’t have time for this. Someone is trying to kill me!”

  “This is important,” said Chunth. “No one can hurt you here. Tell me about your flares. Then I will explain what I can.”

  Glissa sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Lately, they’ve been the same scene each time, but I’ve never seen this place before. I’m in a strange forest that’s both soft and bright. There are no moons, but there is a large … sun—a word I’d never heard until I left the Tangle. My clothes are different. I’m different. My arms and legs are all fleshy.”

  “How does it end?” asked Chunth. He seemed unsurprised by her description. Of course, he had no metal on his body, either, so maybe it wasn’t so strange to him.

  “I’m drawn to a clearing. There is some strange energy glowing in the middle. Elves are all around me, walking toward the energy.”

  “Then it flashes?”

  “Yes,” said Glissa. She stared at the old troll. “How did you know? Trolls don’t have flares.”

  “Those are racial memories, Glissa,” said Chunth. “You are connected to the elves and to the mana of the forest at a primal level. Your flares show you visions not of your own life but of the life of your people … even of their life before the Tangle.”

  “Before the Tangle?” She laughed. “There was nothing before the Tangle.”

  “You know that is not true, don’t you?” said Chunth. “You have seen the green forest, the bright yellow sun, and the vine-covered elves.”

  “So you’ve had these visions as well?”

  “No,” said Chunth. “The memories I have of the time before the Tangle are my own. I was there. I remember my forest. I remember the world of the trolls before the Tangle.”

  Glissa was silent for a moment as she fought to absorb this.

  “And the energy?” she asked. “The flash of white light? Do you remember that?”

  “Yes. It was different for the trolls but the same as well.”

  “Don’t start talking in riddles again, old one,” she scolded. “Speak clearly, or I swear I’ll go live with the goblins.”

  “I do not know what the ball of energy was,” said Chunth, “or how it worked. It changed the world of the trolls. We exchanged our world for his world … this world.”

  Glissa caught the swift change. “His world?” Glissa remembered something Slobad had said about the golems. They were from before the time of elves and goblins. She looked at Chunth. “Do you mean Memnarch’s world?”

  Chunth stared back at Glissa, the cup of water halfway between the table and his mouth. “Where did you hear that name?” he asked at last. “Did it come to you in one of your flares?”

  “No,” said Glissa. She had finally wrested control of the conversation back from the troll and felt an odd sense of triumph at having done so. “The golem said it when he saw this.” She pulled the vial from her boot sheath and placed it on the table. “Who or what is Memnarch? Is that who’s trying to kill me? Whoever made this serum used it to make the nim attack us.”

  Chunth dropped his cup on the floor and picked up the vial of serum. “I never should have let you go into the world alone,” he said softly. “Listen, Glissa. You possess a power—a gift—within you that some wish to use for their own ends. If you are not careful—”

  “Yes, I know,” interrupted Glissa. “End of the world, death to us all. I heard the same thing from an old leonin seer. I expected a more direct answer from you. Why save me from the levelers if all I can bring to this world is death?”

  “Death is not your gift,” said Chunth. “I told you, you are a nexus of power. You must learn to harness that power before the convergence or it may well be the end of the world.”

  “Then teach me, O wise one,” said Glissa. “Show me how to use my power, and I will save the world. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “It is not as easy as that,” said Chunth. An urgency in his voice made Glissa suspend her sarcasm and listen. “You may not know the right thing to do when the time comes. You don’t understand.”

  “Help me understand,” said Glissa softly. “Look, I know you sent me out with this sword to try to save my family. I’m grateful for that. But I need some answers. Who is Memnarch? What is the serum? Who is trying to kill me? How do I stop all of this?”

  Chunth took a deep breath, settled down into the chair, and closed his eyes. “All right. No more riddles,” he said. “I will tell you what I know. The person behind this must be a vedalken.”

  “Vedalken?”

  “They dwell on the Quicksilver Sea, past the Mephidross. The vedalken harvest the serum you have there. They crave power and are willing to do anything to gain it.”

  “Even kill,” said Glissa.

  “Oh yes,” replied Chunth. His thick lips curled in an unpleasant smile. “The vedalken have killed millions over the years … maybe more. This vial of serum alone cost the lives of a score of blinkmoths.”

  “What are blinkmoths?”

  “They are what you see at night. You imagine they are the stars above and the fireflies that roam the Tangle. They are living creatures, lighting the sky with their serum-filled bodies, raining water down upon the land. For hundreds of cycles the vedalken have harvested them.”

  “Why?”

  “The vedalken drink the serum to gain knowledge of the world and knowledge of Memnarch,” said Chunth. His eyes grew distant. “I, too, drank the serum, once. Long ago, when the Tree of Tales had but a few runes etched into its base, I learned of the blinkmoths and many other secrets of this world. It is an amazing liquid. It unlocks the knowledge of the world, its creation, and its creator. A taste provides visions of the mysteries of the cosmos. A vial such as this can begin a journey toward unlocking those mysteries.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” said Glissa. “Why not use the serum to help us live better lives? We could learn to control the levelers, make it rain more often, begin to master this planet.… Oh! I see.”

  “Yes,” said Chunth. “You see. Where does it end? Even the most altruistic among us would eventually use the power for personal ends. That path inevitably leads to ruin. Power and greed together are always destructive, and the price for the power is too high. The vedalken have murdered blinkmoths by the millions to attain their current stature.”

  “Are these vedalken a tall, robed people with domes for heads?”

  Chunth nodded. “They were not always as you see them now. Their race has evolved far beyond any of the others on Mirrodin.”

  “Because of the serum?”

  Chunth nodded again.

  “But why do the vedalken want me dead?” the elf persisted. “If they have all this power, what do they want with me?

  “That I do not know,” said Chunth. “They are playing at being gods. They have the knowledge of the ancients but not the power to wield it. Perhaps they fear your power. Perhaps they wish to harness it. I do not know.”

  “Or perhaps they just want to stop me from destroying the world,” said Glissa drily. “If Ushanti of the leonin had the power, she would kill me. What of this Memnarch? Is he the leader of the vedalken?”

  Chunth looked weary. His eyes were closed and he was rubbing his temples with his fists. Glissa wasn’t sure he’d even heard her questions. Perhaps she should let the old troll rest and begin again later. At last he spoke.

  “For many hundreds of cycles now, I have tried to keep the elves and trolls safe in the Tangle. I kept knowledge of the blinkmoths a secret to prevent our races from falling victim to the allure of their power. I erased all mention of the old world from the histories so the elves and trolls would not search for their pasts. But you need to know of
Memnarch. You need to know the truth.”

  The metal door scraped across the floor behind Chunth, and the old troll turned. Glissa looked up. Another troll stood in the open doorway. It was not one of the guards. He wore the robes of an elder.

  Chunth barked, “I left instructions not to be disturbed. What is so urgent?”

  The troll in the doorway did not speak. Instead he lifted his metal-clad arm and turned his wrist over. Glissa could see something cupped in his fist—a blue orb that gleamed in the dim light of the gelfruit.

  “What is that?” demanded Chunth. “What are you doing?”

  “She must die,” responded the elder in a faint voice. He opened his fist, and the orb flashed. A bolt of blue lightning streaked across the room. Glissa dived off her chair as Chunth jumped to his feet in front of her. The lightning slammed into the old troll’s chest, knocking him back onto the table.

  He crashed to the floor, taking the table, cups, and gelfruit with him. The vial of serum flew from his hand. Glissa tried to move, but her foot was pinned beneath the broken table. She stared helplessly as the elder in the doorway held the orb out again, his palm facing Glissa.

  Nothing happened.

  He shook the orb, trying to make it work. His eyes strayed to the floor and widened when he saw the vial of serum. Glissa pulled frantically on her foot but could not free it. The elder smiled a toothy grin, scooped up the vial of serum, and turned and fled down the tunnel. Glissa looked from the empty doorway down to Chunth, sprawled atop her leg. A huge hole penetrated his chest, and he was gasping for air.

  “Glissa …” he wheezed. “I must … tell you.…”

  Glissa lifted the old troll’s fleshy head and cradled it in her arms.

  “Don’t speak,” she said. “I’ll get help.” With an agonizing jerk, she pulled her foot free.

  “No time,” he rasped. “You need … to know.”

  “What is it?” said Glissa. She could feel tears on her face.

  “The world,” said Chunth. Blood trickled from his mouth as he spoke. “Not … what it seems. It … is …”

  “What?”

  “Hollow.”

  Chunth’s eyes closed, and his head sagged into Glissa’s arms.

  ASSASSIN

  Glissa laid Chunth’s head down and stood, testing her ankle. Chunth was gone. Another in a growing line of deaths meant for her. There was only one person who could tell her why. She sprinted down the tunnel after the assassin, screaming.

  “Guards, guards,” she shouted. “Chunth has been murdered.”

  When she reached the secret door, guards surrounded her. “Chunth is dead,” she gasped. “An elder with a blue orb … did any of you see him come past you?”

  Glissa turned and looked at the wall, searching for the catch that opened the secret door. Behind her, one of the guards was barking orders.

  “You four, get the elders to safety,” he snapped. “The rest of you escort the elf to her friends.”

  “No,” screamed Glissa as she patted the wall. “We must find the elder. He killed Chunth. I told you. An elder killed Chunth, then ran down here.”

  The guard spun around to face her. “How do we know you didn’t kill Chunth? You have attacked us before.”

  Glissa stared at him. He could have been one of the guards she had locked in Chunth’s room the last time she was here. They all looked alike to her.

  “Because if I had,” she said slowly, “I wouldn’t be screaming about it … and you would all be dead by now.”

  The guard swallowed hard and released her arm. “What did this elder look like?”

  Glissa turned back to the secret door. She found the catch, but the door refused to open. “He was an old troll,” she said over her shoulder. “He was carrying a blue orb that shoots lightning.” She slammed the catch with the butt of her sword and swore. “Flare! Why won’t this open?”

  The guard reached over her shoulder. “The release is jammed.”

  Glissa bashed the hilt of her sword into the catch again, but it didn’t budge. She slammed her shoulder into the door and even tried to slice through the tree with her sword. It was reinforced throughout. Nothing seemed to work.

  “He’s gone through here,” she cried. “I need this open, now!”

  The guard turned to the remaining guards. “Go out the main entrance. Climb the tree and open this door.”

  Glissa felt a scream welling up inside her and fought to keep it down. “That will take too long.” She had a thought. “Where’s the goblin?”

  “A little ways down the tunnel,” replied the guard.

  “Slobad!” Glissa screamed as loudly as she could. “Golem! I need you!”

  After a moment, she heard booming footsteps coming up the tunnel. When the metal man appeared around the bend, Glissa gasped. He was missing an arm.

  “What happened?”

  “That’s what I ask you, huh?” said Slobad. “I cleaning the golem arm, then hear screaming, huh? What do you need? I thought this quiet place. Time for cleaning and sleeping.” He paused and looked at Glissa. She was fuming and her face was stained with tears. “What wrong?”

  “Chunth is dead,” said Glissa quickly. “The assassin went through this door. Now it’s stuck. Open it!”

  The golem moved forward, and Glissa backed up to give him room. The golem walked up to the door, pulled his arm back, and slammed his hand into it. The secret door flew away, landing on the terrace twenty feet away.

  Glissa ran through the door, shouting at the guard. “The goblin will fix it later. Go to the elders. Protect them. Find out which one is missing.”

  * * * * *

  The elf looked around the terrace. Trolls were great climbers, but they weren’t as agile as elves. Glissa was sure the elder wouldn’t have jumped as she had so many nights ago. He either climbed onto the next terrace or took to the trunk. She checked the trunk first.

  Recent claw marks led off the terrace around the trunk. Glissa curled her fingers and dug her claws into the tree, pulling herself around the tree as best she could. She was a decent climber but had never scaled the Tree of Tales before. She leaned in and sniffed the claw marks left behind by the elder to get his scent. She might not be as good a climber as a troll, but she was the best hunter in the Tangle.

  Halfway around the tree, Glissa lost the scent. There were no claw marks above her, so the troll elder must have descended. The elf pulled her feet away from the tree and pressed in with her claws. They couldn’t hold her weight, and she began to slide down the tree. Glissa dropped her head to see where she was going. It was a straight drop all the way down the tree. No terraces or spires impeded her path to the floor of the Tangle.

  How unusual, thought Glissa. A troll escape route, perhaps?

  She pulled her claws halfway from the grooves they were making and sped up. Nobody in the Tangle but me would be stupid enough to try this, she thought wryly.

  As the elf neared the ground, she was nearly free-falling. The trunk was a blur as it flew past her. Glissa waited as long as she could, then dug her claws back in and slammed the soles of her boots into the trunk to slow her descent. Twenty feet from impact, she kicked off hard and released her claws to send her body flying away from the tree.

  She timed the kick perfectly and flew straight toward the end of a curving spire. She grabbed, dug in her claws, and twirled around the tapering spire several times to bleed off momentum. She dropped the last ten feet to the Tangle floor and looked around for movement.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, and she twirled, drew her sword, and swung. Kane dropped to the ground before he lost his head.

  “Fine way to greet your best friend.” He tried to turn over and get up, but his slagwurm-plate uniform made it impossible for him to bend at the waist.

  “Kane, what are you doing here?” cried Glissa. She sheathed her sword and helped him to his feet.

  “I was on guard duty at the main entrance. What are you doing here, and what in the flare is goi
ng on inside the Tree?”

  “No time to explain, but I’m glad you’re here. Did you see an elder pass by in the last few minutes?”

  “Yes,” said Kane calmly. “It was High Priest Strang.”

  Glissa looked at Kane. “How do you tell them apart?” she asked, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Help me find him.”

  “He was headed toward the Radix.”

  “Follow me,” said Glissa. She trotted off toward the center of the Tangle. “We can’t let him get away.”

  Kane ran to catch up with Glissa. “Why? What happened?”

  “Strang killed Chunth,” said Glissa, “and he stole something from me that I want back.”

  “Chunth?” gasped Kane, running beside his friend. “I thought he was a myth. The troll elite guards speak of him sometimes, but I’ve never seen him.”

  “How do you know Strang?” asked Glissa.

  “I’ve been assigned to him a few times during rituals. It’s a great honor to serve the High Priest. Strang practically runs Tel-Jilad.”

  Glissa and Kane dodged around either side of a rain barrel. Kane continued, “I can’t believe Strang would kill anyone! He’s the most respected elder in the Tree. He presides over the most important rituals. Why would he kill Chunth?”

  “I don’t know,” said Glissa as they neared the Radix. She said nothing to Kane of Strang’s attempt to kill her as well. The orb he had used made her neck tingle just like the spy-birds’ attacks. Was Strang, like Geth, working for the vedalken? Chunth said he had kept the serum a secret from the trolls and the elves. How did Strang know about it? She turned these questions over in her mind as they ran.

  “Power,” she said at last. “It always comes down to power. Chunth had it and Strang wanted it.”

  * * * * *

  Glissa stopped. They were at the edge of the Radix. She dodged behind a Tangle tree, pulling Kane close to her. She breathed in his musky scent as his face came close her hers. She had forgotten how good he smelled.

  “Kane,” she whispered, “I need your help. If Strang sees me, he’ll run. Go in there and distract him. I’ll take care of the rest.”