Up came the shield. With a sound like a thousand nails punching through a hundred tin plates, the pellets reduced Crovax's shield to a sieve. His tunic was shredded, and a score of pea-sized pellets buried themselves in his face.
Scored and blasted, Crovax threw down his ruined shield. He crossed his forearms, fists tightly clenched. A growl rose from his throat. It began low and guttural but grew louder and stronger as he focused his rage and pain. One by one, the flowstone pellets worked themselves out of his body, falling at his feet at a steady rate. Soon the floor around him was covered with hundreds of pellets.
Ertai tried to size up the situation. Volrath was an unknown quantity to him. He'd seen the ex-evincar's quarters, heard commentary from people in the Citadel who knew him. He was cruel, ruthless, shrewd, and a man of unusual appetites. Compared to him, Crovax was a machinesoulless, utterly devoid of guilt or feelings of humanity. Volrath would expect to win because of his superior skills; Crovax thought he could prevail through brute force and a willingness to do anything to win.
The battle would go on and on until sheer survival determined a winner. With his ability to renew himself with the lives of others, Crovax would ultimately win. Nothing Ertai could do would help Volrath. Once the former evincar was out of the way, retribution would inevitably fall on everyone else.
Crovax's two-handed stroke tore the shield from Volrath's grasp. The dented buckler caromed off the wall. Both fighters were reduced to swords alone.
Volrath assumed a sideways stance, the pose of a fencer rather than an infantry soldier. Crovax circled warily, trading occasional cuts and jabs. As he orbited outside of Volrath's reach, he glanced at Ertai and betrayed surprise as seeing the young sorcerer alive.
Volrath sidled forward a step when Crovax's attention strayed. His arm lengthened by two inches, and he carefully bent his elbow to hide the new growth. Volrath started his lunge. His arm straightened, and with the velocity of a striking viper, he drove his blade at the junction of Crovax's right arm and chest.
Crovax's eyes widened in alarm. He tried to backpedal out of danger, but his response was too slow. The nicked, dented blade flew at him. He brought his own sword up in a desperation parry, but the impetus of Volrath's lunge bore his hilt back against his own face. Thirty inches of tempered steel slid along Crovax's arm. Volrath's lunge had succeeded, and the startled usurper seemed paralyzed by the realization of his imminent defeat.
Time stretched out. The normal yellow gleam of the hall lanterns on the bright steel blade became purplish. Volrath's triumphant face fell. An unknown force was playing down the length of his onrushing blade. Someone was tampering with the fight, using old-fashioned magic to deflect his weapon. A horrified look on his face, Volrath watched the tip of his sword fall an inch, two inches, until it passed under Crovax's arm.
Everything came together with a crash. Volrath and Crovax collided chest to chest, Volrath's sword swinging uselessly behind Crovax's back. Crovax's own blade was bent backward over his shoulder by the force of Volrath's attack. He twisted, dumping the over-balanced Volrath and at the same time punching him hard in the face with his free hand. Volrath hit the floor. His sword bounced free and skittered away into the crowd.
Crovax threw himself on Volrath's back. He hooked his left arm around the man's chin and drew his head back, arching Volrath's back as if it were a longbow. The ragged edge of his sword came down to slice Volrath's taut throat. Volrath blocked the blade with his mailed hand.
The wall of courtiers and soldiers dissolved to reveal a captain of the palace guard, backed by a phalanx of his men. The captain's face was streaked with blood.
"My lords! The rebels!" he cried. "They've barricaded themselves in the Dream Halls!"
Belbe was on her feet. She flung a hand at the straining pair of fighters. "Hold!"
They continued to struggle. She appealed to Greven. The Vec warrior did not move.
"Declare a winner, or stand aside, Excellency," he said. "You heard the captain," she said. "We must defend the Citadel!"
"That is the job of the evincar."
It all came down to this moment. Belbe looked from face to face, searching for an answer. Greven was impassive. Ertai smiled weakly, then sagged to the black pavement. Courtiers avoided her, soldiers pretended to be busy readying themselves to fight the rebels.
Finally, she looked down at Crovax. He had Volrath down, his head locked and his throat vulnerable. Only four mailed fingers prevented him from cutting Volrath's jugular. "Do
… your… duty!" Crovax gasped. "Behold!" Belbe cried. "Behold, the Evincar of Rath! Crovax!"
The sergeants broke ranks and shouted their master's name. Most of the assembled notables joined in, though a good number quietly fled.
"Let him up," Belbe said above the roar of the crowd. "He must die!" Crovax replied.
"He's lost. His life is forfeit, but your first duty is to quell the rebels in your own fortress."
Crovax agreed. He ordered his men to secure the former evincar and place him under close guard.
"Wrap him in chains of good steel," Crovax said. "Hang him by his feet so that no part of his body touches the structure of the Citadel. Seat ten men with bare swords around him. If the floor so much as trembles, strike off his head!"
Volrath was buried under a pile of sergeants. He didn't resist, but they pressed him hard to the floor and wound chains around his legs. His hands were wrenched behind his back and chained together. A hood was cinched over his head.
By the time Volrath was securely bound, the hall was almost empty. Guards and soldiers under Greven's command had already marched off. The sergeants bore Volrath away.
Crovax turned to Belbe. "Excellency! This is a great day!"
He dropped his sword and enfolded her roughly in his arms. Though she resisted, Crovax kissed her hard, smearing his sweat on her face as she stained him with glistening oil still oozing from her injured hands.
Alone, lying on the floor a few feet away, Ertai smiled.
CHAPTER 21
REUNION
Garnan pressed his ear to the door. "It's quiet out there," he whispered.
Shamus listened too. "They didn't just go away!"
"They're there," Takara said flatly. "A company was left to watch the door while the rest retrieve a battering ram."
Shamus blinked. "Battering ram?"
"Do you think they'll try to starve us out?"
Medd filled the relatively quiet moment by inspecting Eladamri's injuries. He dabbed salve on his burns and rewrapped them in strips of cloth torn from their army cloaks. Eladamri was sitting on the cold black floor, leaning against one of Volrath's monumental pilasters. "Are you in much pain, Brother?" asked Medd. "No."
"The burns are superficial. I fear some of your nails are lost and won't grow back." Eladamri nodded. Medd tied off the last bandage and set the elf's arm gently into a sling. "Do you think we'll leave here alive?"
Eladamri opened his eyes. "I don't know. Are you frightened?"
"Yes."
"I'm not. Live or die, I've made up my mind not to fall into their hands again. I do have regrets, though. So many unfinished tasks…"
Kireno returned from reconnoitering the Dream Halls. Everyone but Shamus gathered around Eladamri to hear the Vec warrior's scouting report.
"This place is huge, but it's basically one big room," Kireno said. "At the far end is a transom, all glass. There don't seem to be any other doors."
"What can you see from the transom?"
"The windows look down upon the prison and map tower, O Eladamri."
"Could we climb down?"
Kireno demolished his idea. "The Citadel is cut away under the Dream Halls, so there's no way to climb down. It would require hundreds of feet of rope just to reach the bridge to the prison tower we just left. To reach the floor of the crater would take thousands of feet."
"What about up?" asked Medd.
Takara snorted. "Climb hundreds of feet up the outside of the Citadel? Are you m
ad?" She shook her cropped head at the rebels' leader. "How is he going to climb any distance up or down with those ruined hands?"
"You've made your point," Eladamri said. "Do you have any useful suggestions, Takara?"
Her eyes glistened. "Write your wills."
From the doors Shamus called, "People coming-lots of them!"
The rebels rushed to the doors, weapons drawn. Takara slumped to the floor in the corner and covered her face with her hands.
The tramp of many feet was plain even through the massive panels. Muffled shouts were heard, and the floor vibrated under their feet.
"Stand back," Eladamri advised his men. He had hardly said so when a tremendous boom reverberated through the hall. The doors shook but remained solidly closed. The impact was repeated again and again.
The noise was punishing.
"If the doors don't break, the noise will break us!" Medd shouted.
After many hits, the battering ceased. More muffled voices, and the rebels could hear men scurrying away from the door.
"Take cover!"
Fire sprayed through the narrow space under the door panels and through the gaps at the top and sides. For a few terrifying seconds, the rebels waited to see if the tall doors would topple from their hinges, admitting a horde of Rathi soldiers. The doors stood firm.
"Ha!" Kireno said, slapping a thick black panel. "That's workmanship for you!"
"I guess Volrath didn't want anyone to disturb him in his sanctum," said Eladamri.
Buoyed by the doors' resistance, the rebels prepared for a siege. Medd got out his whetstone and sharpened their swords and knives. Kireno departed on another reconnaissance, this time searching for hidden doors or secret passages. Shamus continued his watch.
Eladamri rummaged through his garments. He found a slip of ragged paper and a blunt charcoal stick, once the property of the Rathi soldier whose uniform this had been. He sat down on the floor and began to write in slow, carefully formed letters. Shamus asked him what he was doing.
"Following Takara's advice," he said. "I'm writing my will."
*****
Crovax left to lead the attack on the cornered rebels, but Belbe had to see to Ertai before she could join the Rathi forces outside the Dream Halls.
She managed to round up four terrified servants and ordered them to carry Ertai to Volrath's laboratory. The men were frightened to be abroad on their own. The whole Citadel was in an uproar, and the air was rife with tales of cut throats and stabs in the back. It was only by considerable bullying that Belbe was able to get them to carry Ertai to the infuser.
She left him on his makeshift stretcher. "These men will get you to the laboratory," she told him. "They know what will happen to them if they fail." The bearers shifted nervously until Belbe frowned them into stillness. "I will go to the rebels. I must speak to Eladamri again."
He took her hand. "And how are you?" he said, fingering her bandaged palm.
"I feel no pain."
"You're a liar."
Belbe slipped her hand free. "When your treatment is done, find someplace quiet to rest. Crovax will come looking for you."
"Speaking of that…" Ertai urged her to come closer. Belbe knelt beside the stretcher. "We must both escape! You have the means-"
"Shh." She covered his mouth with her hand. "When the time comes, the door will open. But there is a part I must play here."
She dismissed the servants and hurried to the Dream Halls. As she neared the entrance, she found the corridors clogged with tense, eager troops. What seemed like the entire garrison was crowded into the outlying passages, and it took some time for her to work her way through the mass of heavily-armed soldiers. By the time Belbe reached the foyer, she found Greven supervising the palace guards in setting up a battering ram. An iron double A-frame had been brought in, and a massive bronze-headed ram hung by chains from the frame.
Kneeling beside Greven was a captured rebel soldier, a young Vec with his arms pinioned behind his back, bleeding from untended side and scalp wounds. Crovax, still in his battle-soiled white outfit, stood nearby with a contingent of fifty guards, ready to storm the Dream Halls once the doors were breached.
At the count of three, the guards swung the battering ram back, then slammed it against the black doors. The ram bounced off, and the rebound threw the battering crew to the floor. Greven ground his teeth in disgust.
"Again!" he bellowed.
Twenty stout men grasped the handles on the ram and drew it back. Prepared for the shock this time, none of them fell down, but the ram made just as little impression on the door as last time.
"Keep going!"
While the guards vainly pounded, Belbe made her way to Greven's side.
In between the dull booming of the ram, she asked him, "What are the doors made of?"
"Some metal of Volrath's making."
"Flowstone?"
"No, Excellency. The lock mechanism is made of flowstone, but the rebels have barred the doors from the inside. Crovax tried to will the doors open, but they are impervious to his commands."
Twenty-six fruitless blows were struck, then Greven ordered the winded guardsmen to stand down. A fresh team formed to take their place, but Crovax had a different idea.
"Would Your Excellency have a go?" he said.
"I'm not strong enough to batter down those doors."
"No," he said, "but you're strong enough to use this."
A soldier passed him the Phyrexian plasma discharger she'd hidden behind the throne. He smiled ironically when she took the weapon from him. Belbe cradled the heavy gun in her arms.
Crovax fixed her with a stare. "It won't work on me, you know. I can absorb the energy of its blast. That's how I can handle the powerstones bare-handed."
Belbe swung around and fired the discharger at the doors. No one was ready, and the resulting explosion scattered troops in all directions. When the smoke cleared, the doors were not even marred. Crovax seemed impressed.
"A very useful substance," he said. "I wonder if Volrath could be persuaded to share the secret of its composition?"
Belbe tossed the discharger to him. She turned to Greven. "I want you to withdraw your men. Clear an area ten yards out from the doors. Leave the rebel prisoner with me."
He didn't question why she wanted this, he simply obeyed and ordered the soldiers back to the mouths of the converging corridors. The battering ram was dragged clear and abandoned. Belbe helped the semi-conscious Vec warrior to stand. A hard knock on the head had not only laid open his scalp, it dulled his wits. "What's your name?" she asked. "Sivi… Liin Sivi."
"Isn't that a female name?"
She raised her head slightly and peered at Belbe. "You're the first one to notice."
"That's all right. Liin Sivi, you'll soon be reunited with your friends."
Belbe ushered the dazed rebel fighter to Crovax. "Your Highness," she said, using his title for the first time. "Take your storming squad back, too."
"Why?"
"I mean to persuade the rebels to come out," she said. "I'll give them their wounded comrade as a token of trust. But they won't budge if they see your men poised to strike."
"You no longer command here."
Belbe smoothed the hair back from her face. Her arms felt leaden, her fingers were numb. Her healing capacity was reacting poorly to her many accumulated wounds.
"Do this, Crovax. It will cost you nothing. There's no way out of the Dream Halls, as you well know. This Vec woman will be just as much a prisoner inside as she is out here. If I can talk the rebels out, it will save lives and trouble."
He looked past her. "Lives are cheap fodder," he said. "But it would be a shame to ruin those fine doors before I can ask Volrath how they were made… all right, Belbe." He pointedly dropped her title. "You have my leave to try."
The storming squad faced about and marched back to the line of flowbot lifts. Crovax followed, the discharger hanging loosely from one hand.
Belbe and Sivi app
roached the imposing black doors cautiously. Belbe rapped quietly on an ornate panel.
*****
On the other side, Shamus flinched at the unexpectedly civil knock.
"Brother!" he hissed. "Someone's knocking at the door!"
Eladamri shoved the paper scrap in his shirt. He stood close to the panel. "Who's there?"
"Belbe. The emissary."
He flushed with sudden emotion. "What do you want?"
"You're trapped in there. There's no way out. I've come to help you."
Medd, Shamus, and Eladamri exchanged startled expressions. Takara roused herself from her gloom and quietly joined the group at the door.
"Why should you help us?" Eladamri questioned. "Wherever I come from, I'm flesh like you. I no longer believe in my masters' goals. The people of Rath deserve to live in freedom."
Eladamri clutched Shamus's arm. "Find Kireno," he hissed. "Get him here at once!" Shamus dashed away. "Can you hear me? Did you hear what I said?"
"I heard you," said the elf. "What proof do you offer of your sincerity?"
"I've convinced Greven and Crovax to withdraw their men from the door. I have one of your comrades with me. She says her name is Sivi. If you open the door, only the two of us will enter."
There followed a frantic argument among Medd, Takara, and Eladamri. If it meant saving Liin Sivi, the Dal warrior wanted to take the chance the emissary was telling the truth. Takara would have none of it, and Eladamri said nothing but brooded over the face he knew was on the other side of the door.
"How will you save us?" Eladamri asked, once the arguments cooled. "If you're relying on safe conduct grants by Greven and Crovax, forget it. We're not trusting our lives to such faithless villains."
"Greven and Crovax know nothing of what I'm doing. Let me in, and I'll explain."
The rebel fighters came running to Eladamri. He hastily explained the situation.
"Do you trust this woman?" asked Kireno.
"No, but I intend to face her. There's something about her you should know. She's my daughter, you see. Or was."
Nemesis mtg-2 Page 30