If Tolaria was a myth, why did Karn remember its destruction? To save the academy-no, to save Jhoira-he had pushed the time machine to its limits and destroyed it all.
To save his one true friend…
The Phyrexian engineers were dead. Gerrard and the others would be dead too unless Karn shut down the engine. There were countless ways, but as Karn read the configuration of power cells, he knew the main core would always restart itself. There was only one way to shut it down permanently.
Striding along the oil-stained flank of the engine, Karn shoved levers upward. Power mounted. One cell began to whine and then the next. Mana superfluids boiled violently. The rumble crescendoed to an angry wail, then a deafening shriek.
It was enough. Karn turned. He ran back the way he had descended. It was an easy trail, marked with bodies. Seventeen engineers beside the power core, twelve shock troops in the passageway, and there, ahead, where clear sky shown through a hull breach, five vampire hounds.
Behind Karn, the core went critical. White-hot fire engulfed the engine room. It burst the walls outward. It flung the doors from their hinges. Pure energy bounded up the corridor behind Karn.
He ran. His feet clanged on the grating. From heat alone, the vampire hound bodies burst into flame. Their glistening-oil blood made a wall of fire before him. White power behind and red flame before, Karn hurled himself through the hull breech. He roared. His bloodied hands burned as he hurtled through the air.
Perhaps, in destroying it all-even himself-he had saved his only true friends.
Then, like a memory solidifying, Karn felt something in his hands. He held on and was drawn away from the incendiary cloud. Black metal retreated beneath his dangling feet. Urborg appeared below.
Karn clung to the forecastle rail of Weatherlight. Fires snapped and burned around his hands and feet, but he held on.
Above the rail, eyes worried within a shock of black hair. Gerrard smiled.
"Karn, you did it. You made it back. I don't know what I would've done without you."
Chapter 12
The Dragon of Yavimaya
Throughout their flight across the ocean, Rhammidarigaaz had wondered how he would find the second Primeval. Now, as his dragon nations circled above tumbled Yavimaya, he knew.
The Primeval drew him. She lay imprisoned below. Elves had entombed her in the heart of a great tree. For ages of ages, the ancient forest serpent had been a captive to the wood. Magnigoth sap had pasted down her scales. It had permeated her flesh and coursed into her blood and leeched every rebellious impulse from her mind. This dragon, who had breathed forests into being and had flown in a world where mortals were caged birds, this beast was a prisoner of the trees. But not forever.
Bending his fangy mouth down toward the forest canopy, Darigaaz began a long, spiraling dive. His people followed.
The wet heat of Yavimaya streamed across his leathery wings. Beneath the sun and above the treetops, Darigaaz soared. In this time of war and dark revelations, there was too little quiet and beauty. He watched his own lithe shadow as it surged over the canopy. Tree to tree, the image leaped. In its wake came the shadows of the dragon nations. They seemed fish schooling above a reef. Down to Yavimaya they plunged.
She was here, just here, in the massive magnigoth around which they circled. It was a mountain of a tree, three thousand feet tall. Its crown could hold aloft an elven city. Large white blooms spread across the peak and showered gleaming pollen through the air. Gigantic Kavu basked among its branches, letting the sun warm their reptilian blood. Below, foliage spread in four more levels down the huge trunk. Each had its own climate, its own fauna and flora. The base of the tree was a swollen knob of wood that bristled with spikes.
Even glimmering pollen and acrid sap could not cover the sweet, sharp scent of dragon flesh. The magnigoth was powerful and ancient, yes, but less so than its captive.
Darigaaz tucked his wings and plunged through the upper canopy. It was like diving through the algae of a deep pool. Sunlight failed. Wind gave way to stillness. Airy creatures were replaced by giant spiders, staring Kavu, and every skulking thing.
His people descended in a ribbon behind him.
Darigaaz circled the magnigoth trunk. Heat seeped from his skin. Talons dragged through moist murk. Wings brushed the spikes that jutted from the root bulb. There was no true soil here except the humus that ran in a black network among the trees. On that spongy ground, Darigaaz landed. His claws dug in the dirt, and he tucked his wings. With a final flap of leather and a series of soft thuds, the dragon nations of Dominaria landed. They formed a thick ring of flesh around the prison of their ancient lord.
Darigaaz took a deep breath and eyed the tree. It was indeed a mountain. How could he bring this creature out? How could he hope to free a Primeval?
You know how, spoke a voice in Darigaaz's mind. It was a purring voice, feminine and powerful.
Abstracted, the elder dragon reached up to the talismans at his wattle.
No, the answer does not tie there. That is new magic, a distillation of colors. We lived before all that. We lived when power was raw and elemental. You must tap the primeval power, Rhammidarigaaz.
Tap the primeval power? How?
You have been a servant to mortals too long. You have forgotten what it means to be a dragon. To be a king.
Darigaaz bristled. He was the elder dragon of Shiv. He was the lord of the dragon nations. He had not forgotten what it was to be a dragon king.
You're no king. You're a diplomat, a negotiator. You must rule yourself before you can rule these folk. What of volcanic desire? What of volcanic power?
"Have you brought us here merely to stand and stare?" asked the lord of the black dragons.
Darigaaz shook off his reverie. Only then did he notice that Lord Rokun coiled before him.
Rokun was a coal-black beast cast in the very likeness of Tevash Szat, the dragon god who had begun this whole escapade. Rokun's tongue was also the equal of Szat's.
"Did we fly across the ocean only to land here without plan or purpose?"
Yes? Did you?
The fire kindled in Darigaaz's belly grew only hotter. "Our purpose is to raise the second Primeval before the Phyrexians can destroy her. Our plan is to join the strength of the dragon nations to tap ancient power."
Feigning credulity, Rokun said, "Oh, yes. Let's all join in a circle and hold hands-"
Don't coddle him. He is not your child. He is your subject.
"Would you be silent?" Darigaaz snapped, uncertain whether he addressed Rokun or the voice in his head.
"No, I will not," snarled Rokun. His tail lashed. His claws gripped the black soil as he circled the dragon elder.
"I kept my silence while many of us were slaughtered at Koilos-and for what, a hunk of sand that is now in Phyrexian hands?"
You fight for men, not for dragons.
"The permanent portal was destroyed. That was the purpose of the Battle of Koilos-"
"I kept my silence as you led us to what little remained of your homeland, to fight for nose-picking goblins and runty Viashino. I kept my silence even as you led us across the world to find this oversized scratching post, but I will keep silent no longer."
Lash out. If you let him speak that way to you, he will rebel.
Darigaaz lifted claws to his ears. "I'm through listening to you."
"No, you aren't. I'm taking control of the dragon nations. We will follow you no longer!"
Lash out! Are you too docile to save your own people?
Darigaaz's claws raked down from his ears and seized the black, hackled throat of the upstart. "You will not take command of this army. Not while I live." He hurled Rokun away from him, into a crowd of black dragons that eagerly watched the confrontation. They reeled back, clearing the way.
Rokun rose menacingly. In the dark forest, his plate armor seemed more insectoid than reptilian.
Through gleaming fangs, he hissed, "Oh, Rhammidarigaaz the Elder, I have l
onged for this moment." He launched himself at his foe.
Black power scintillated across his horns and coalesced down his arms. Rokun's claws grew preternaturally outward like lines of ink drawn on the air. Those lines intersected Darigaaz's stomach and cut deep parallel furrows through the scales.
The elder dragon reeled back.
At least one of you remembers how to fight.
Darigaaz did not heed the voice, busy remembering something else-the volcanoes of Shiv. He drew the power to him and formed it into a red-hot column of force that poured from his clawtips. He roared and lunged. His talons clenched the black dragon's throat. Incendiary heat ripped through the monster's neck. From the holes torn by his claws gushed a tarry liquid. The acid burned Darigaaz's flesh. More sprayed between the black dragon's clenched teeth. Where it spattered Darigaaz, his own scales dissolved. It burned wounds across his neck and shoulders. Darigaaz reeled back.
Use your native power…
Like a well-stoked furnace, Darigaaz drew a hissing breath. Within his chest, breath transformed. It coalesced into pure energy and roared out. Flame blazed from his mouth. It ate the air between the dragons. A ball of fire broke over Rokun.
Ah, you do remember about volcanic heat! You do remember that you are a dragon and a king!
Rokun thrashed in the searing fire. His wings burned away in an acrid whoosh. His scales curled upward like mud drying beneath the sun. He staggered, going to his knees. Even the acid that dripped from his wounded throat burned.
Still, Darigaaz did not relent. Feral flame poured out of him and laved the rebel lord.
Yes, Rhammidarigaaz! Kill him, and the others will fall in line!
As if awakening from a nightmare, the elder dragon shuddered. His eyes grew wide. Fire ceased in his throat. The last of the flames dribbled between his fangs. Rhammidarigaaz stared in horror at the smoldering figure.
Rokun struggled to rise from the blackened ground where he lay. It was no good. His scales were as fragile as dry leaves. The vital fluids of his being drained whitely from every pore. He would die-that much was certain- but he was not dead yet.
Staggering numbly toward his foe-his victim- Darigaaz called out, "Summon the white dragons! Summon the healers!"
"Don't bother!" rasped out Rokun. "They can only prolong it now. You have slain me, Rhammidarigaaz. You have slain me because I dared to oppose you."
Yes, Rhammidarigaaz, purred the voice in his head. That is what you have done. That is what you had to do.
Staring feverishly at the ravaged figure, Darigaaz said, "You would have slain me-"
"I would have slain you… to save our people from worthless wars and old myths," gasped Rokun. "I would have slain you to save the dragon nations… from being the tool of planeswalkers."
"Better the tool of planeswalkers than the tool of Phyrexians."
Through smoke-whitened eyes, Rokun looked up past Darigaaz to the other dragons. "Break from him… Escape the doom he brings…"
You must finish him before he turns your people away!
"This quest will destroy you… and all of us…"
"Silence, Rokun! You are defeated. Be silent!"
"You cannot silence me… They will rebel against you…"
A self-fulfilling prophecy!
"I said, silence!"
"Rise against him, dragon nations! Rise!"
You must finish him!
Rhammidarigaaz reached down, grabbing the scorched body. Scales shattered beneath his claws. He hoisted the creature overhead. Fury surged through him. Lifting Rokun high, he hurled him through the air. The ravaged body arced outward. Enough life remained in it that Rokun struggled to right himself. His claws and tail lashed.
Rokun crashed atop the root bulb. Nine spikes ripped through his seared flesh, impaling him. The body slumped on those spikes. Air left him in a long, gurgling hiss.
Darigaaz watched, heart pounding in his throat. He looked down at his claws, black from the deed. He looked up at the dragon nations. In their eyes, he saw his mad figure.
Speak to them, Rhammidarigaaz. Threaten them. You are on the verge of losing them.
"Any other traitors-" Darigaaz began, even before he was sure what was coming from his mouth- "will die the same way."
It had been the wrong thing to say. The beasts visible recoiled from him.
It didn't matter. A transformation had begun.
The dead dragon spilled acid and blood onto the magnigoth's bark. The humors did not drip down but up, drawn skyward. They sank into a crevice and pried it apart. The caustic liquids ate through bark into the quick of the tree. The seam peeled back. Year by year, century by century, millennium by millennium, the rings were exposed.
"What's happening?" wondered Darigaaz aloud.
You did it. You remembered what it was to rule your nation. You awoke your volcanic fury and united your kindred. It is enough. You have awakened me.
Rokun had been a sacrifice, Darigaaz realized. To free the Primeval, Darigaaz had to sacrifice a mortal dragon on the tree.
The sorcery that split the tree had reached to its very core. Instead of deep darkness, the space shone sunlike. From it rolled the scent of dragon life essence. The air seemed liquor-stinging and numbing and intoxicating. It poured out and bathed the dragon nations. They could not remain standing but fell to their haunches and bowed their heads.
Only Rhammidarigaaz kept his feet. He stared with bald eyes at the creature returning to the world.
The blinding cleft widened, taking on a distinctly draconic shape. Long wings raked upward. Talons gripped the wood that once had gripped them. A tail lashed with new life. Scales glimmered like prisms. The creature strode from the wood. As it emerged, the tree closed. The dragon dimmed. It went from white-hot to red-hot, and then to its native color-green.
She was beautiful. Her scales shone like jade. She was powerful. Her claws and legs and wings and tail all spoke of brute strength. She was brilliant. Within her gleaming eyes were stored millennia that modern creatures could only guess at. She approached Darigaaz.
His heart pounded. The enervation of the fight was gone. Bathed in this creature's glow, Darigaaz felt as beautiful and powerful and brilliant as she.
When she spoke, her voice was just as it had been in his mind. "You found your fury, Rhammidarigaaz. You found your dragon's soul, and you awakened me. I am Rith, Primeval of Yavimaya."
He could only nod in response.
"The circle is begun again. It is but a short arc now. When it is complete, no one will be able to stand before the nation of dragons."
* * * * *
The dragons did not remain long. They followed the gleaming green Primeval skyward. The last of them lifted off before the forest's defenders could rally.
En masse, Kavu bounded down the three-thousand-foot trunk of the magnigoth tree. They reached the root bulb below. Massive and horn studded, the great lizards circled the tree and sniffed the air. Dragon stench lingered. It stung their eyes. Nictitating membranes drew across them. Nostrils pinched shut.
These dragons had been foes as surely as had the Phyrexians. They had stolen one of Yavimaya's most ancient treasures. The Kavu had defended the forest against Phyrexians, but they would have to marshal greater defenders to reclaim the lost serpent.
Circling the wounded magnigoth, the Kavu placed their claws on its root bulb. They threw back their heads and filled their wattles with air. From fangy mouths emerged a deep, mournful bellow. The song resonated among millennial trees.
In time, the magnigoth guardian awoke. With terrific motion, it drew its roots up from the tangle of others. The cleft that once had held Rith split into an enormous pair of legs. A mouth gaped open beneath pitlike eyes. Most important of all, though, was the great canopy of leaves overhead. They nourished the beast, and through billions of stomas, they sniffed the air.
The Kavu ceased their song. Their message had been conveyed. Rith had escaped. The treefolk lord must lead its people to bring her
back.
The magnigoth guardian drew in air all across its dome of leaves. Ah, Rith had headed out across the sea. It would follow her scent trail, the unmistakable smell of draconic power.
The treefolk lord strode from its spot in the forest of Yavimaya. Kavu in their hundreds climbed onto it. They too would go seek Rith. Even if they must hibernate beneath chill oceans, they would go. They were not the only ones. As the treefolk lord went, it awoke others of its kind. In the scent language of plants, it conveyed the news. Rith had escaped. She had headed over the sea.
By the time the magnigoth guardian had reached the shores of Yavimaya, a hundred of its kin followed. Kavu filled their boughs. The Yavimayan army strode out to sea. Their roots churned the sandy shallows. Faster than any sailing ship, they pursued their lost Primeval.
Chapter 13
The Warrior's Feast
How like Thaddeus he is, this Lich Lord Dralnu, thought Agnate. He hefted his torch and glanced sidelong. Yes, he could almost be him-Thaddeus's face, his eyes, his hands. More than anything else, it was Thaddeus's voice. These were his words.
"When I lived, I was as you- a great warrior. It is the province of men to make war, to kill, as it is the province of women to make life."
Agnate and Dralnu descended through a black and twisting cave. Their companies followed-the five hundred Metathran who had fallen into the quicksand and the five hundred undead who had saved them. Boots and bones pattered in a stream at the base of the cave.
"I suffered a likely enough death for a warrior-slain by a greater foe," Dralnu continued. "That is when my story became unlikely. At that time, there was a lich lady in Urborg who collected fallen warriors. She raised them and restored their armor, their clothing, their very flesh. She raised me and put me in her collection."
Agnate nodded. "Not a fate worthy of a great warrior." "No indeed. The ultimate sacrifice should not have been so meanly repaid," Lord Dralnu said. "I should have been burned or buried or left to rot in the swamp. I should not have been raised to dance on wires, but I bided my time.
PLANESHIFT mtg-2 Page 10