Nemesis mtg-2

by Paul B. Thompson

  Her footsteps were loud in the stillness. She felt strangely numb.

  Belbe mounted the shallow steps to the dais and sat down on the throne. Her back had just touched the rear of the seat when she heard a voice say, "How does it feel?"

  Crovax walked out of the shadows directly above her.

  "Don't you get tired of walking around upside down?"

  "An amusing trick of the flowstone, sometimes useful," he replied, walking down the wall. "But you didn't answer the question."

  "It's a chair, like any other."

  Crovax stepped down to the floor. "Not so. That's the seat of the Evincar of Rath, the sole arbiter of the lives of millions."

  "I thought the power resided in the ruler, not the furniture."

  "You have so little appreciation of the trappings of power. Anyone who sits there, no matter how base, gets a taste of ruler-ship. That doesn't happen with ordinary bar stools or kitchen chairs."

  "On Phyrexia, such trappings are unnecessary. Power comes from knowledge and control, not flags and furniture. My own master…" her voice trailed off as she remembered the formless mass of Abcal-dro. "He has no need for chairs."

  Crovax descended the dais. "You're here early. Have you come to a decision?"

  "Yes."

  "Care to share it with me?"

  "Not yet."

  "Then why are you here, Excellency?"

  "Haven't you heard? Eladamri's been captured. Greven's bringing him here even as we speak."

  Crovax was electrified. "You jest! No, you never doEladamri captured!" He clapped his hands and smiled broadly. "A fitting prize to begin my new era on Rath!"

  Noise swelled in the antechamber, and the iris doors scissored apart. Leading an enormous crowd was Greven ilVec, still clad in his battle armor. At his heels came ten nondescript soldiers with muddy feet in battered, rusty armor. Next were the palace guards in a box formation, four abreast. In the center of the box walked a lone figure in gray rags, his hands bound by heavy chains. Courtiers in their baroque finery filled the hall behind the guards, and a motley collection of off-duty soldiers, servants, and the odd mogg or two filled out the crowd.

  Belbe craned to see the famous rebel leader, but with Greven and a wall of guards in the way, she couldn't get a clear view of him.

  Greven halted the procession. A few onlookers coughed nervously.

  "Your Excellency!" Greven boomed. "The soldiers of the army of Rath bring you tribute!" He stepped to one side.

  Crovax stood at the foot of the throne, arms folded. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were stillborn when Belbe rose from the evincar's throne and descended the steps.

  The hall grew deathly quiet. Her boots clicked on the mock-marble floor. She felt as though she was confronting a great mystery, a lost wonder of nature.

  *****

  Teynel, Sivi, and the rebel raiders held their breath. They never imagined they would get so close to the seat of the enemy's power. The vast Stronghold impressed them. The flow-stone factory puzzled and frightened them. Rank upon rank of tough, professional soldiers worried them. Now, in the very heart of the Citadel, they were face to face not only with Greven il-Vec and Crovax, but the personal emissary of the dreaded Phyrexian overlords.

  She was a girl. A young elf girl.

  "These are the soldiers who brought in Eladamri," Greven explained.

  Teynel saluted with such force he almost knocked his own helmet off. "C-Corporal Elcaxi of the Fourth Company, Your Excellency."

  "Corporal."

  "This is my second, Private Vertino." Sivi returned Belbe's vacant look with an icy appraisal of her own.

  *****

  The rebels parted ranks to let Belbe pass. When they were clear, she got a better glimpse of Eladamri. He was of moderate height, and the color of his hair meant he was past the prime of life for his race. The lofty palace guards, chosen from the ranks of the regular army for their size and strength, still prevented her from seeing him clearly.

  Greven nodded, and a door of armored warriors drew back.

  Eladamri looked upon her face, and she on his.

  His eyes widened, and a rush of blood flamed in his cheeks. Eladamri let out a roar of perfect rage, and though weighed down with thirty pounds of shackles and chains, he threw himself on Belbe and bore her to the floor.

  She thought time had stopped. Everyone was fixed, like the statues in Volrath's suite-the guards, hampered by their ceremonial garb; the ragged soldiers who'd captured Eladamri gaped; Crovax, hovering on the periphery of the scene, watched and smiled. Greven, who always seemed on the knife's edge of violence, just looked on with curious passivity.

  They're going to let me die, she thought. They're going to let this madman kill me.

  Eladamri had both hands around her neck. Because of her gorget he couldn't throttle her, so he raised her head and slammed it against the floor. It hurt, but only superficially. Her alloy skull could turn an ax blow. As it was, each time her head struck the floor there was a dull metallic thud.

  "Assassin! Murderer!" the elf cried. "Avila! Avila-!"

  The footsore soldiers of the Fourth Company moved first. They grabbed Eladamri by the arms and shoulders and tore him off Belbe. Once they acted, the spell was broken, and the palace guards quickly pinned the rebel leader to the floor with their polearms. Elcaxi and his comrades pushed away the guards' bills and axheads, relying on their bodies to hold the raging Eladamri.

  Someone lifted Belbe to her feet. Her vision cleared, and she saw her benefactor was Crovax.

  "I knew he was crafty, but I never thought Eladamri was insane," Crovax said mildly. "Are you all right, Excellency?"

  Belbe rubbed the back of her head. "No permanent damage."

  "Damned murderers! They did it on purpose! Devils! Monsters! Dear Avila, sweet child, how could they do this-?"

  Belbe was still holding the back of her head. "What is he raving about?" Crovax and Greven were clueless. "You men, let him go," Belbe commanded.

  Sivi and Teynel hesitated but followed orders. "Up," said Teynel, and the rebels scrambled to their feet. Eladamri arched his back and sprang to a crouching position with one flex. Tears streamed down his cheeks. With a second heave, he regained his feet. The palace guards interposed a wall of polearms between him and Belbe.

  "Hold," she said to the troops. "Don't harm him." She turned to Eladamri. "Why do you risk death to lay hands on me? Who is Avila?"

  He advanced a step, breathing heavily. "Does my face mean nothing to you?"

  "I've never seen you before."

  He gripped the polearm shafts barring his path. "Where do you come from, Girl?"

  Greven backhanded Eladamri, sending him sprawling. The crowd let out a collective "Oh!"

  "You do not question the emissary!" Greven barked. Belbe held up a hand to the hulking warrior. "Be still," she said. She pushed through the hedge of polearms and knelt beside the elf. Eladamri pushed himself up on one arm and dabbed the blood from his freshly split lip.

  "Do you attack me because I'm the emissary of your enemy?" said Belbe.

  "I attacked because you're an abomination, a horrible lie," Eladamri said in a low voice. "You should be exterminated, as all unnatural creatures should be."

  "I wouldn't speak too lightly of extermination," Crovax said, shouldering through the press. "From where I stand, the best candidate for extermination is you."

  Eladamri stood. He was weighed down by his chains, but when Belbe tried to assist him, he pulled away from her, glaring hatefully.

  "Remove his shackles," Belbe said. When no one complied with her order she shouted, "Do as I say!"

  Teynel shoved the key in his leader's bonds. He tried to urge Eladamri to be calm with a meaningful glance. The elf did not meet his eyes. He burned holes in Belbe and kept doing so even after his chains fell loudly to the floor.

  "What are your orders, Excellency?" Greven asked.

  "What is the first task of a captor?"

  He bowe
d. "As you command, Excellency." At Greven's order, the box of guards was reformed. Teynel and the rebels kept discreetly to the rear.

  "Don't kill him," Belbe added as the prisoner faced about. "Find out what he knows, but preserve his life. Do you understand?"

  Greven avowed he did.

  Crovax sighed. "So much trouble. I doubt he'll tell us anything. Better to strike off his head now and be done with it. I can have the airship drop it on the rebels in Skyshroud Forest-"

  "Shut up," Belbe commanded.

  Crovax shrugged.

  The massive crowd tried to get out of the way of Eladamri's escort, but there were so many packed in the rear of the hall that it took a few minutes to clear the doorway. Just as everyone's attention was focused on the departing rebel leader, the floor of the hall turned to soft clay, and the dilating doors melded into a solid mass. Everyone was lifting their feet, losing shoes and slippers in the sticky stuff.

  Belbe's frustration was written on her face. "What are you doing, Crovax? Restore the door and floor."

  Crovax was seated on the throne. He looked very natural and comfortable in the tall black chair. Leaning back, he propped his chin on his hands and waited until everyone was looking at him to respond.

  "The noon hour is not far off, Excellency. Why not take advantage of these splendid witnesses and announce your choice for the next Evincar of Rath?"

  She looked around. "Ertai is not here."

  "Should he be?"

  "He is under consideration for the post."

  Crovax flexed his fingers. Four flowstone rods, like the ones he had used to slaughter the hostages, erupted from the floor around Belbe. Secondary spikes jutted from the footthick shafts, isolating her in a ring of artificial thorns.

  Belbe glared. "I tire of your displays."

  His right eyelid twitched. A fifth rod formed between her feet. It rose slowly to knee level and held there, the tip bending backward to caress her leg like some inquisitive tentacle.

  "Name your choice," Crovax said quietly.

  "Not yet."

  The fifth rod leaped up to her chin. Limp pseudopodia emerged from it and delicately probed the joints of her armor. She knew that with a single thought he could convert them to steel-hard spikes.

  "If you kill me, you'll never be named evincar," Belbe said. "Knowing that, do you think you can frighten me into a decision?"

  Crovax burst out laughing. It was hard, unfriendly mirth, but the cage of spikes sank into the floor. The rest of the crowd found their footing had firmed up. Their exodus accelerated now that many of them had seen Crovax's talents for the first time.

  "I defer my decision until tomorrow morning. By then I will know more about the rebels' plans and can act accordingly."

  With that, Belbe strode from the hall. Eladamri's eyes hatefully followed her out of the room.

  CHAPTER 15

  PAWN

  Ertai awoke slowly. The room was pitch black and so hot that sweat from his brow had pooled on the tabletop, matting together several old manuscripts. There was a vile taste in his mouth. Coughing, he sat up and realized he'd chewed on a scroll in his sleep. That explained the awful flavor of ink.

  He thought the lamp into working. It flashed to life, first red, then orange, gradually brightening to a soft yellow glow. He had no idea what time it was or how long he'd been in the dusty, arid annex.

  Trampling through piles of open scrolls, he reached the door and threw back the bolt. Air poured in like a cool waterfall. He held out his arms and drank it in gratefully. These Citadel rooms were all but airtight with their doors closed. It was a wonder he hadn't suffocated in this booklined tomb.

  Sweaty and with sleep-swollen features, Ertai sauntered down the corridor. From the amount of light coming from outside, it seemed like late morning or early afternoon. Rath had no proper day or night, but diurnal variations in the great energy beam approximated two halves of a day. He wanted a cool drink, some decent food, and a bath. Thoughts of bathing made him smile. He'd use the fancy tub in the evincar's quarters again. Maybe this time Belbe would join him. It would be a good place to spring his plan about the two of them leaving Rath forever.

  The side hall connected to a major corridor that was surprisingly full of people. The Citadel hadn't been this lively since he'd arrived. Now the place bustled with servants and elaborately dressed courtiers, some hastening from point to point, others lingering in handy alcoves, conversing in loud, theatrical whispers. "Pardon me, but what's the stir?" he asked a trio of gaudy loafers.

  "Have you not heard? We've captured Eladamri!" The fat courtier, who bowed under a headdress loaded with gems, didn't look like he'd ever captured anything but a free meal. "Are you certain? When did this happen?" "I saw him myself in the convocation hall, not half an hour ago," said the fellow haughtily. "He's a savage, no doubt about it. He tried to kill the emissary in front of the whole court!"

  He tugged on the courtier's copious sleeve. "Is Belbe all right?"

  Lord Widewaist removed his gold embroidered sleeve from Ertai's ink-stained fingers. "No harm came to Her Excellency," he sniffed.

  Ertai made a slight alteration to the flowstone around the courtier's feet, uttered a brief thanks, and hurried on. A few moments later he was rewarded by the sound of the bloated courtier falling flat on his face. Ertai had locked his slippers to the floor.

  The hall leading to the convocation antechamber widened. Ertai broke into a trot. He dodged around slow moving loiterers then bumped into the broad back of a man who wasn't moving at all.

  "Out of the way," he said. "This is a public hall, not a public house."

  The big man turned around.

  "I know you," Ertai said. "You're a soldier-Sergeant Some-body-or-other."

  "Nasser's my name." Another sinewy fellow moved in behind Ertai. "This is Sergeant Valmoral."

  The sweat turned cold on Ertai's neck. "How d'you do?" They were both in cloth jerkins and trews, so he said, "Is this your day off, Boys?"

  "A sergeant's work is never done," Nasser replied. The one called Valmoral poked the tip of a short but very sharp knife in the small of Ertai's back. "We know you're a tricky fellow, so chose your next act carefully."

  "You have my full attention."

  "You'll come with us," Valmoral said.

  "You really think you can abduct me, here, in front of all these people?"

  "You'll come," said Nasser. "The life of the emissary is at stake."

  "Belbe?" Ertai's eyes narrowed. He could, with a little effort, send simultaneous psychokinetic bursts from each hand and repel these two roughnecks. But then what? For all he knew, Belbe was already in their hands. He relaxed, letting his shoulders sag.

  "Good thinking," Nasser said. "This way."

  They moved slowly against the general flow of the crowd. The soldiers stood on either side, steering him with nudges from their broad shoulders. He thought fast and hard.

  "At least tell me where we're going," he said out of the side of his mouth.

  "To a place of calm reflection," Nasser replied.

  "I could use some calm reflection… ah!" Valmoral pricked him with the point of his knife.

  "You chatter like a percher. Be silent."

  They turned off the main corridor to a small side hall, losing most of the foot traffic as they did. They went on quite a ways and turned off again, this time into a passage just wide enough for two men to walk abreast.

  "Fourth door on the right," Nasser said.

  He slowed his pace until Valmoral reached out to shove him forward. As soon as Ertai shuffled forward out of arm's reach, he commanded the flowstone walls to narrow. Two bulges formed in front of the sergeants, blocking their way. Ertai ran.

  "Hold, You!"

  He skidded to a stop at the fourth door and glanced back at the trapped men. One was shouting dire threats, the other was trying to worm past the obstruction. Ertai put a hand on the door handle. It swung inward.

  He looked into the smiling face
of Crovax.

  "Having fun, Boy?" he said. "Good. I'm in the mood for some fun, too."

  *****

  Teynel, Sivi, and the rebels cautiously trailed behind Eladamri and his escort of palace guards. It was easy to follow them, even through the crowds because Greven il-Vec overtopped everyone in sight. As long as they kept the warrior's towering frame in view, they knew where their leader was.

  Except for Sivi's toten-vec, they were unarmed. Even as Rathi soldiers, they had to surrender their weapons when they entered the palace. Eladamri had been preternaturally calm through all the danger until he laid eyes on the emissary. His subsequent murderous, implacable rage was something none of them had ever seen in him before.

  "The emissary looks like an elf," Sivi noted as they shadowed their captive leader. "Is that what angered him?"

  "I don't know," said Teynel, "but I have a bad feeling about it. I wasn't expecting her, and I don't think Eladamri was either. I didn't think they would act so quickly to interrogate him."

  "We can't let them torture him!" Sivi said.

  Teynel turned back abruptly, coming nose to nose with Liin Sivi, "We have a mission to perform. If you aren't happy with the way I'm leading it, you're free to leave!" Her hostile glare softened, so he added, "I don't intend to lose Eladamri, but he may have to endure some hardship before we can retrieve him. He understood that before we left Skyshroud-didn't you?"

  Eladamri and his captors halted near the mouth of a gilded bridge that led out into the open crater. A short way down, a large conical building extended well below the line of the bridge.

  They heard Greven speak. "Take a last look," he said, his inflection oddly respectful. "You may not see daylight again."

  Eladamri inhaled deeply. "I will know the light far longer than you, Butcher."

  Any trace of compassion left Greven's voice. "Forward!" he barked. The guards locked their shields together. Eladamri was now closed inside a living cage. Head held high, he strode in perfect step with the escort.