Nemesis mtg-2

by Paul B. Thompson

  "It's my purpose," she replied hotly. "It's the reason I exist."

  "I have a notion for you, Belbe. Exist to be yourself! Loyalty is an admirable trait, but you can't cling to it in the face of certain destruction!"

  She stalked across the floor, flattening the flowstone waves with her feet. An inch from his face she stopped.

  "This is why you and your kind will fail-you think only of yourselves, your own petty individual concerns above the welfare of your race! My masters will destroy you and anyone else who stands in their way. It's the law of nature that the efficient shall displace the inefficient…"

  Ertai carefully lifted her hand and clasped it with his own. "You're the same race as I," he said. "You've no common cause with beings whose sole purpose is to force people like us into slavery."

  His touch was firm and warm. Belbe stared at him, at their hands. She dropped Ertai's hand and turned away.

  He put his arms around her. Unlike Crovax, his touch was gentle. "Why do you always turn away at the last moment?" he said.

  "I cannot do what I imagine."

  "Why not? What stops you?"

  Belbe shuddered. "I am not alone and never have been. There is a… device in my body which transmits everything I see and do to my masters on Phyrexia."

  He turned Belbe to face him. "Where is this device?" She took his hand and pressed the tips of his fingers to her breastbone. He felt the curved surface of the Lens imbedded there.

  "Can it be removed?"

  "Perhaps on Phyrexia. Not here."

  He closed his eyes and probed the Lens with his mind. Touching it, even psychically, was like entering a vast empty well, black and bottomless. There seemed no end to it, as it stretched all the way from Rath to the secret plane of her overlords.

  Belbe lowered her head to his shoulder.

  Ertai sighed in awe. "That thing could swallow me whole."

  "Could you break it, or block it?" she murmured. "At least for a little while?"

  "Hmm, maybe. Your masters can't bear the natural lifeforce, right? Perhaps if I send a charge of such energy into this device it will blind them."

  He cupped his palms together over the imbedded orb and summoned all the natural magic he could reach on this unnatural world. Belbe felt a buildup of heat in her chest. It didn't burn, but slowly diffused outward through her neck, arms, and abdomen. Ertai removed his hands.

  "Did it work?" she asked.

  "There's no way to know for certain."

  She draped her arms around his neck. "I don't care anymore. I'm tired of being a lens. I want to be alone with you, if only for a while."

  *****

  After some hours in each other's arms, Ertai was spent and Belbe drained of her stormy emotions. He fell asleep on the chaise. She watched him a while, breathing deeply, his lips just apart. His hair was russet brown now, and next to her pale skin the increasing grayness of his flesh was quite noticeable. He was indeed beginning to resemble a lesser version of Greven il-Vec.

  Belbe got up, careful not to disturb her sleeping lover. She was cold, and though she tried to dispel the goose pimples on her arms and legs, she found she couldn't. This puzzled her until she decided it must be due to Ertai's spell. Her Phyrexian systems weren't meant to handle natural magic, and her loss of metabolic control was probably due to the presence of his magical charge in her system. She glanced back at the naked, sleeping Ertai. It was worth it.

  She wandered through the empty suite, letting her fingers drift across Volrath's strange artwork. She hadn't touched them before, and she discovered some of the statues had latent flow-stone responses to being touched. Though they looked like stone, when caressed the statues became soft as velvet, supple as leather, and warm to the touch. What a strange person the evin-car must have been, wasting his intimacy on inanimate, though responsive, objects.

  In Volrath's bedroom, she paused by the mirror. Her hair was disheveled, her face flushed, and her lips bruised. These were superficial things. Belbe stood closer to the mirror. She traced the line of her face and throat as she had on Volrath's statues. Her skin was cool to the touch, and it didn't change texture as her fingertip passed over it. Why was that? Was she less responsive than flowstone? No one would have said so two hours ago. Now that her passion was spent, was she the same as she was before?

  *****

  Ertai rolled over, empty arms seeking Belbe. Not finding her, he opened his eyes. Across the chamber, in the shadowed recesses of the ceiling, he saw what looked like a suit of black armor hanging by its feet from the ceiling. The armor moved.

  Ertai bolted from the chaise.

  "Who is it?" he demanded. He raised his hand. "Come down, or I'll knock you down!"

  Lilting laughter was his answer. The intruder dropped from the ceiling, somersaulted, and landed on his feet.

  "Crovax!"

  "Congratulations, Boy," Crovax said. "Met the emissary on equal terms, have you?"

  "How long have you been there?"

  "Long enough. Who would've thought the overlords would send us such a spirited representative?" He sauntered over and picked up a piece of Belbe's discarded clothing. Ertai snatched it from his hand.

  Crovax laughed. "Now you're going to defend her, as any rustic swain would."

  "You're a filthy animal," Ertai said. He was terrified to be found like this by Crovax, his fear compounded by not knowing what Crovax would do to him or Belbe.

  "And you're a stupid boy, today's performance not withstanding." Crovax sat down on the same chaise where Ertai and Belbe had made love. "It's a good trick, though, I'll give you that. Seducing the emissary is bound to be good for your candidacy."

  "That's not what happened!"

  Crovax's dark eyes shone. "Are you going to tell me it's love?"

  "I-I don't know."

  There was a sharp intake of breath. Both men saw Belbe standing in the doorway. Ertai snatched up the first available garment-his doublet-and hurriedly draped it around her.

  "The proper answer was 'yes,'" Crovax said, stretching.

  "Shut up!" Ertai said.

  Crovax stood, hands falling slowly to his sides. "You're welcome to try and make me, Boy."

  "What passed between us was not about human love," Belbe said archly. "I had some curiosity about the practice of copulation, and Ertai was obliging me."

  "So I saw. If all you wanted was experience, you could have done better," Crovax said. "I'm always available for Your Excellency's enlightenment."

  Ertai started forward, but Belbe stopped him.

  "Don't," she said. "He's trying to provoke you. I've seen it before."

  Crovax shrugged and sat down again. "Better listen to her, Boy. I can kill you any time I want." He flung out his hand suddenly. Ertai flinched, affording Crovax a hearty laugh. "You're not a total fool. You're smart enough to be afraid of me."

  "What do you want, Crovax?" said Belbe.

  "I came to tell Your Excellency that order has been restored in the Stronghold cities," he said. "When the army returned, I posted soldiers in every square, tavern, inn, and gathering place in the crater. There'll be no more trouble."

  "Good. You may go."

  "One thing, Excellency. Since Master Ertai has 'obliged' you, don't you think it prejudices you in the matter of his candidacy?"

  "I will choose the new evincar based on total ability, not by military or magical skill-or biological prowess."

  Crovax chuckled and made to leave. He'd gone a few steps when Belbe, moving with blinding speed, rushed up behind him. She uttered a short, sharp cry. Crovax whirled, but his fists met only air. Belbe lashed out with her bare foot. It caught him under the right breast and he flew backwards, his cuirass deeply dented from the blow.

  "Belbe, don't!" Ertai shouted.

  Crovax sprang to his feet, and the flowstone furniture between them coalesced into a solid wall seven feet high and four inches thick. Belbe could not stop her rush in time to avoid slamming into the barrier. Crovax grinned, and the w
all slammed Belbe twice more. He was about to smash her against the wall of the Citadel when she leaped over the ponderous bludgeon and landed a kick squarely on Crovax's forehead. Down he went, but the floor boosted him back to his feet. Crovax had a sword, but he didn't draw it. Instead he willed the floor to hold Belbe by the ankles-but he was too slow. She leaped to a nearby pillar made of natural iron-outside Crovax's influence-and clung there by her fingertips and toes, panting.

  Crovax shucked off his breastplate, wincing from the blows he'd taken.

  "You've made your point, Excellency," he said. "I shouldn't try to bully you. But in the interests of-shall we say, efficiency?-will you set a date at which time you will name the new Evincar of Rath?"

  Belbe remained on the pillar, her hair awry, looking like one of Volrath's exotic statues. She drew a deep breath, swallowed, and said, "I will set a date."

  "When?"

  She glanced at a timepiece on the wall. The Phyrexian numerals dissolved into simplified Rathi ones.

  "Two days from now. At midday exactly."

  Crovax slung his dented armor over one shoulder and bowed slightly. "I await Your Excellency's wise decision."

  When he was gone, Belbe dropped to the floor. Ertai hurried to her, thinking to comfort her. He found her shaking from head to foot.

  "It's all right," he said. "He won't hurt you. He dares not, at least until you choose the next evincar."

  Belbe wasn't shaking from fear. "That was wonderful!" she declared. "I want to demolish him with my bare hands!"

  Ertai dropped his comforting arms. Without another word, he retrieved his discarded clothes and hurriedly dressed. Belbe was so overcome with excitement she didn't even notice him until, half-dressed, he started to leave.

  "Where are you going?" she asked.

  "To the library," he replied coldly. "I've a lot of reading to do. My final examination is in two days, is it not?"

  He slammed the ornate flowstone door behind him.

  *****

  Sergeant Nasser, bathed and attired in a fresh uniform, waited on Crovax's pleasure in the evincar's council room.

  "I have my account of the army's march back to the Stronghold, my lord," Nasser said, holding up a slim scroll. When Crovax did not reply, he laid it on the star-shaped table before him.

  "Where is Greven il-Vec?" asked Crovax.

  "Called away to the airship. Something about an intruder on the east plain."

  "I see. Let him chase as many wanderers as he likes. In two days, the overlords' emissary will convene a special assembly. Her purpose is to name the new Evincar of Rath."

  "The choice is clear, my lord."

  "So you say, but our esteemed emissary is under all sorts of pressures and influences. In such circumstances, she may not make the correct decision. We can't let that happen."

  "No, my lord."

  "Tomorrow, I want the Corps of Sergeants to return to the Citadel-all of them. Every man is to bring his sword, shield, helmet, and dagger."

  "The palace guards won't allow armed troops inside," Nasser protested.

  "Then smuggle the arms in! Use your imagination." Crovax glowered. "The ceremony will be at midday two days from now. At midday less two hours I want the Corps of Sergeants to gather in the evincar's antechamber. Arrive in twos and threes-don't come in a body. Be fully armed."

  Nasser nodded. He knew what Crovax intended, but part of the price of his complicity was making his new lord and master admit it out loud.

  "What do you intend, lord?"

  "The succession cannot be left to the whims of a hotblooded girl," Crovax said. He drew his dagger, held it point up for a second, then drove it into the table to the hilt. "Before you and all the sergeants, the emissary will name me evincar or die on the spot. Her paramour, the boy Ertai, will die regardless."

  Nasser folded his arms. "It shall be done, my lord."

  CHAPTER 13

  TRAITOR

  Beset and bewildered, Belbe escaped the intrigues of the palace by retreating to the factory. No one else could stand the noise and crackling atmosphere of the flowstone works for long, so it was an ideal place to hide-no, sequester herself. Amid the intake jets, centrifugal distributors, and flow regulators she found a measure of serenity.

  Or so she thought. Even under the faceted dome of the control center Belbe was haunted by memories and choices she didn't want. Her life, her total existence she owed to Abcal-dro and Phyrexia. There was no disputing that. But did she have the right, as Ertai suggested, to exist for her own sake? She had never considered what would happen to her once her task on Rath was done. Would she be recalled to Phyrexia? Life there would be severely circumscribed by her need for an unpolluted environment. Could she live under Abcal-dro's dome like one of Volrath's experimental animals, always under the eye of her polymorphous master?

  Clearly no, if it was up to her.

  Could she remain on Rath? This option had positive and negative aspects. Once an evincar was chosen, she'd no longer have any role to play. Belbe might stay on as advisor to the new governor, but tolerance for her position seemed doubtful. Perhaps she could find some minor role in the Citadel-maintaining the flowstone production facility, for example.

  No, even that job was destined to be short-lived. The conjunction of Rath and Dominaria was not far off. The final invasion would begin then, and she'd be lost in the tidal wave of the Phyrexian onslaught.

  Belbe gazed through the many-paned dome at the energy beam pouring through the heart of the artificial crater. Beyond it, like an azure-tinged ghost, was the pinnacle of the palace, topped by Predator's high landing dock.

  The Accelerator broke into her daydreaming. "Output flow is sub-maximum," it bleated. "Increasing output to 114 percent."

  Absently, Belbe dialed the output meter down to 86 percent and recalibrated it to read 100. The entire factory shifted with the fluctuation in production.

  The Accelerator accepted the doctored information with a flat, "Increasing output to 114 percent."

  Her hand was on the dial. What did that suggest?

  She had only a moderate knowledge of planar mechanics, but she knew enough to know Rath and Dominaria were slowly coming into the same planar coordinates. When they matched, the worlds would interlock and become one. Rath would overlay on top of Dominaria and be the bridgehead for invading Phyrexian forces.

  She looked over the mosaic of dials and switches, and the image of the massacred hostages filled her sight. All those people, those innocent, loyal subjects, killed to gratify the vengeful hunger of one man. How is it different, her remorselessly logical mind went on, to allow the Hidden One to slake his hunger for power with the lives of innocent Dominarians?

  How is it different? How?

  "There is no difference," she declared out loud.

  The critical factor in the congruence of Rath and Dominaria was mass. The two worlds actually occupied the same interspatial niche, but Rath had insufficient mass to affect a hold on the older, naturally created world. The greater Rath's mass, the slower its vibrational rate became, until at last it resonated at the same rate as Dominaria. That's why the flowstone factory had the highest priority for resources on Rath-each layer of nano-machines, no matter how thin they appeared to be, increased the mass of Rath and hastened the day when the two worlds would be joined.

  What if it didn't happen? What if Rath lacked sufficient mass to permanently overlay Dominaria?

  Belbe's hand still rested on the output meter. She could make a choice-the choice-for Rath. If the final conjunction failed to take place, Rath could be changed. The absolute rule of the evincar could be dispelled. Negotiations with the rebels could put an end to the guerrilla war. Law and reason could take the place of rule by fiat. The overlords would surely strike back, but before that could happen, the energy imbalance on Rath could be reversed, resulting in a toxic environment for any potential Phyrexian invaders. Ertai knew enough about magic to help make this possible.

  Unfortunately, for
all his talents, Ertai was no match for Crovax. She could not depend on him alone to alter the course of Rath's destiny. Greven was more capable, but his control rod prevented him from openly opposing Crovax. Dorian and the court were useless. The real subversive power to change things lay in her hands alone.

  Belbe touched the Lens lightly. Ertai claimed he had blinded the implant. Did she dare believe it?

  She had to. Belbe could not face the balance of her life, no matter how short it might be, knowing she was responsible for the destruction of two worlds and the deaths of millions.

  She adjusted the output meter to 50 percent. Warning lights flashed throughout the factory until she curtly ordered them stopped. Belbe quickly recalibrated the meter to read 100. If she could maintain the sub-normal flow until the predicted time of conjunction, the mass of Rath would be too low to overlay on Dominaria.

  She was confident no one in the Citadel would notice her tampering. The meter would have to be adjusted daily if the reduced output was to be maintained, otherwise the selfregulating factory would compare flowstone production to past rates and correct its output. Belbe regularly visited the factory anyway, so no one would suspect her if she made daily trips to the control center.

  As she was permanently disabling the alarm system, Predator entered the crater, passing several thousand yards over the control center. The dome vibrated as the powerful airship circled around the energy beam. Belbe watched the vessel glide smoothly to the upper dock and moor there, wings folding back against the hull. She finished her alterations and left the dome.

  She'd just reached the central corridor of the palace when Greven il-Vec and the airship crew arrived on their way down from the dock. Belbe noticed among the usual crew a tall figure, wrapped in a floor-length brown cape and hood. No one else in the crew was so attired. She used her infrared vision to peer through the disguise, but discovered she couldn't penetrate the apparently simple cloth wrap. What was going on here? Curious, she changed her path to intersect Greven's. They met at the foot of the staircase that led to the grand convocation room.