War of the Spark, page 8
Ral unleashed a lightning bolt that took out a couple of the monsters in Beleren and Gideon’s path. The latter nodded to Ral in acknowledgment. Then Gideon spotted something behind Ral and shouted, “Chandra!”
Ral turned. More Planeswalkers were fighting their way from the direction of the Embassy of the Guildpact—or what used to be the embassy. Again he recognized one, a female pyromancer with flaming—literally flaming—red hair, as one of Jace’s associates. She fired off tremendous blasts of fire that reduced the enemy to puddles of molten lazotep. She was accompanied by another female pyromancer, this one with long steel-gray hair; a leonin, whom Ral guessed hailed from the Alara plane; and a massive silver automaton, which Ral normally wouldn’t have considered to be alive, except that his goggles confirmed it indeed had a Spark.
The two groups converged beside Ral, Kaya and the boy. Through the goggles, Ral saw arcs of glorious golden light rising from all but Lavinia. Ten Planeswalkers, together, all ready and willing to fight for Ravnica. Bad as things already were—and despite his well-earned cynicism—Ral actually took some comfort from their presence.
He wasn’t the only one. The one-eyed leonin didn’t need goggles to glory in their united front. He raised his arms toward the heavens and roared. It was a sound of triumph, and though perhaps premature it had its desired effect. For the first time all day, Ral felt something akin to hope.
“Form up!” Gideon shouted.
He’s even more impressive at close range, thought Ral, who followed Gideon’s gaze toward the ruins of the embassy. More of the monsters continued to march and fly out of the portal. Instantly Ral’s feeling of hope turned to ashes in his mouth.
Gideon shouted another command: “The Eternals are still coming! We need to save as many people as possible!”
Ral appreciated the sentiment, the desire to rally his fellow Planeswalkers to save his fellow Ravnicans. But as more of these “Eternals” charged toward them, Ral wasn’t even sure they could save themselves…
Far from Ravnica, on the floating city known as High and Dry on the plane of Ixalan, Quartermaster Amelia, Navigator Malcolm and Deckhand Breeches were all drinking merrily at the Boatswain’s Rear, a famed alehouse.
Breeches, the gregarious goblin, was already three sheets to the wind, shouting “Captain, Captain!” at the top of his lungs every sixteen seconds like clockwork. The near-giantess Amelia and the siren Malcolm, who were both holding steady at two and a half sheets, cheered every time.
The subject of their enthusiasm smiled wanly. It was good to see her crew again, certainly. But Captain Vraska wasn’t really in the mood for celebration. She was nursing her wounds (which were minor) and her bitterness (which was mighty). She could feel the call of Ral Zarek’s Beacon, summoning her and every other Planeswalker to Ravnica, and a part of her hoped that many a hero would answer that call.
But the gorgon Vraska would not be among their number.
For reasons unknown, Breeches ran all the way around the oaken table three times. He then stopped in front of his beloved captain, tilted his head like a child, and asked at high volume, “Jace? Jace?”
Vraska suppressed a groan. Last time she had been on Ixalan, she and Jace had been crewmates—and perhaps something more. But that seemed a lifetime ago. Before she had instructed Jace to remove her memories as part of their brilliant strategy for taking Bolas down.
Best-laid plans and all that…
Instead Vraska’s memories had been restored by another telepath: Xeddick, one of her insectoid kraul allies and the closest thing on Ravnica she had to a friend—before he was killed in her service.
With her memory restored, she had known what Bolas was—had known he was using her—and still she hadn’t been strong enough for that knowledge to matter. Though she had been sincere when she approached Ral and Kaya and Hekara to volunteer her services and her guild in their fight against the dragon, she had ultimately betrayed them…and herself.
She couldn’t control her need for vengeance and had assassinated the Azorius guildmaster, Isperia, as payback for the sufferings of her youth.
Isperia had once ordered her imprisonment for the crime of being Golgari. That incarceration had been a hellish nightmare of overcrowding, starvation and beatings. She didn’t regret Isperia’s death. But killing her when and where she did had destroyed Zarek’s chance of uniting the guilds against Bolas. She had known it would, known killing Isperia was exactly what Bolas wanted. And she had killed Isperia, anyway.
Vraska also couldn’t control her need for power and had allowed Bolas to blackmail her into fighting on his side, in order to retain her title as Queen of the Golgari. She had put her faith in the kraul death priest, Mazirek, master of the Erstwhile, the Golgari undead. The kraul and the Erstwhile had been the two pillars of her ascension to guildmaster. But Mazirek had turned out to be another of the dragon’s minions. She could have killed the death priest herself, but she had been too afraid that without Mazirek’s backing—without Bolas’ backing—she’d lose the support of both the kraul and the Erstwhile and be deposed. She had known letting the situation stand would make her a servant of Bolas once again. And she allowed herself to become the dragon’s minion, anyway.
Breeches prompted again: “Jace? Jace?”
She snapped back at him, “Jace isn’t here! He’s never here when you need him!”
That much was true. Jace had promised to return to Ravnica with help. To stand by her side, help her battle Bolas and save her home plane. But he had not come back. Or maybe she had left too soon.
Breeches wasn’t getting the message, but Amelia and Malcolm were hearing their captain loud and clear. They pulled the drunken goblin away, with him still calling out alternately, “Captain, Captain!” and “Jace? Jace?”
Vraska was left alone at the table. Alone in the alehouse, except for a barman, endlessly wiping down his filthy counter with a filthy rag.
In the end, she had done the best she could for the Golgari, freeing her people from Bolas’ last hold upon them.
So why did I continue to work for Bolas? Why did I fight Zarek?
It was a question she could not answer to her own satisfaction. Ral had done her no harm, yet she had been prepared to kill him. Perhaps in self-defense, but more likely because he was a living reminder of her treachery. Or maybe she simply needed to prove to herself that she was truly the monster that her world had always told her she was.
And Ral had been so angry, had felt so betrayed. His final lightning blast would certainly have destroyed her if she had not planeswalked away, if she had not left Ravnica behind. For good.
Because I have no place on my homeworld anymore.
She knew she could not return as the Swarm’s guildmaster. Her support within the Golgari would have evaporated without the Erstwhile and kraul to back her. And she couldn’t expect any help from her former allies after betraying Ral, Kaya and Hekara to Bolas.
Hekara…
Hekara—the last true friend she had—had died trying to save Ravnica from Bolas. From Bolas and from his hench-gorgon Vraska.
Xeddick. Hekara. It’s dangerous to be a gorgon’s friend, isn’t it?
Besides, what if the Beacon finally summoned Jace? How could she face him after what she had done?
No. There’s no place for a monster like Vraska on Ravnica…
So predictable.
Surrounded by Eternal bodyguards, Liliana was crossing the plaza to the Citadel, watching from a distance as Gideon led Jace and the others forward.
They were all stylistically so different. Even the two pyromancers, Chandra and Jaya, had little in common. The former with her massive eruptions of fire, charring two or three Eternals at once; the latter with her precision strikes of flame, taking out one at a time, but with more accuracy and at a faster rate.
Their priority was clearing the plaza, the so-called heroes evacuating the so-called innocents from the path of Bolas’ (of her) oncoming army.
Swordplay, knife-play and fire-play. Time disruption, shields, telekinesis, illusion and sheer strength. Individual Eternals, despite their years of training on Amonkhet, stood little chance with their limited free will and limited agency against these Planeswalkers. Even against Lavinia. It helped that the Eternals also had limited instruction and supervision from Liliana. But she saw no reason to remedy that. Conquering Ravnica was Bolas’ goal, not hers. She had to do just enough to honor their contract. And not a whit more.
She watched this expanded Gatewatch lift urchins into their arms—at one point Gideon was holding three—and ferry them out of harm’s way. She watched them run interference for bystanders too frightened to mount any defenses of their own. She watched them destroy Eternal after Eternal. And she shook her head in pity, if not disgust.
The Gatewatch had clearly lost sight of the big picture. Gideon probably never comprehended it in the first place, but even Jace was completely distracted by the business of rescuing one foolish straggler at a time. They had literally done nothing to contain the overall threat. For the Eternals, as per the command of Bolas (of Liliana Vess), were already leaving the plaza and spreading out across the city. Meanwhile, more Eternals emerged from the portal every second. While the Gatewatch succeeded in rescuing individuals, they were most certainly failing at saving the city, at saving Ravnica.
And stopping Bolas?
That didn’t even seem to be on the agenda anymore.
No wonder the dragon always wins. Though he’s already revealed nine-tenths of his plans, Bolas still runs circles around these completely predictable fools.
How had she ever thought they stood a chance?
She found herself nodding. She had made the right call, counting on her own craft, her own wiles, to bide her time, giving her the chance to bring Nicol Bolas down. If she’d even attempted to maintain her alliance with Jace, Gideon, Chandra and the others, she’d already be dead, and they’d still be busy digging their own graves. There was no denying it. It was simply fact.
So why did she still feel like crying?
Teyo was exhausted. On his heaviest day of acolyte training, even during the worst diamondstorm of last summer, he had never erected so many light shields in such a short period of time.
But here he was, using his geometry over and over and over again to protect men, women, children and…other things—and not from forces of nature, diamond and sand, but from undead warriors—these Eternals, as Jace Beleren called them—who attacked with mindless fury. (Yet not quite mindless enough for his tastes.) Acolyte Verada chanted up a three-pointer here, a four-pointer there, using them to block sword strikes and mace blows.
Pressure?
The abbot at his most ornery had never put this much pressure on Teyo. If his shields fell, people would die. Rat would die.
I’d die!
He knew he didn’t belong here. It wasn’t just the danger or that this wasn’t his fight or even his world. It was that he didn’t feel worthy to stand among these strangers and champions. Why had he been chosen to make this journey? How many times had Abbot Barrez shaken his head over his poorest student? Once a day, at least. Any one of his fellow acolytes could do better.
By the Storm, why not one of them? Or one of the vested monks? Or the abbot himself?
Out of nowhere, Rat leaned over and said, “Aw, you’re doing all right.”
Swallowing hard, he nodded to her and put up another shield, a circle that expanded over his outstretched eastern vertex, giving two small elven children the cover they needed to run away from the mineral-covered—or lazotep-covered, as Gideon Jura called it—Eternal that had been chasing them. Teyo’s shield held for now, blocking the Eternal from its prey, but a shield couldn’t destroy these creatures.
The ghost killer Kaya did that with her glowing blades. The lightning man Ral did it with his bolts of power. Even Rat scurried right up to one Eternal after another and stabbed her little knives through their eyes, deep into whatever was left of their brains. She’d already done it four or five times. The first time, Teyo thought he’d retch, but he was even growing used to that.
There had been quick introductions. He had met Ral and Kaya. Jaya and Chandra. (Or was it Ral and Jaya, and Kaya and Chandra?) Jace and Gideon. Teferi and Lavinia. Ajani and Karn. Plus Teyo and Rat—though everyone seemed to ignore Rat, perhaps because she wasn’t one of these Planeswalkers that, preposterous as it seemed, he himself was. Teyo had never seen anyone like either Ajani or Karn before. The former was a kind of minotaur, except with the head of a big one-eyed cat instead of a bull. The latter was a creature of solid, yet malleable, metal. These were wonders to behold, wonders to put Oasis and anything he’d ever heard of on Gobakhan to shame, yet he had barely been given time to register a bit of it. He could hear the abbot shouting: “By the Western Cloud, child, there are shields to form!”
There were shields to form. The Eternal smashed at his circle over and over again with a bronze flail. Teyo felt each blow all the way up his arm to the shoulder. And though each attack rocked him, he actually felt a bit relieved. There was a rhythm to the blows and a pause between each. Diamonds of the storm weren’t half so polite. They might not hit quite so hard, but they came in multiples and with no interval. Plus the sand kept an acolyte from seeing anything. But now Teyo could see each swing of the flail incoming. He found he could lean into every strike, catching it just before the apex of the swing, dulling each blow.
“Teyonraht, push that one this way!” It was Gideon. He and most of the others thought Teyonraht was Teyo’s name. (A nervous Teyo had slurred his words when introducing himself and Rat, and they had thought he was only naming himself.)
“It’s just Teyo,” he squeaked while attempting to obey. Creating a small circle for balance beneath his right ear, he pushed his lore through his eastern vertex to expand his left-hand shield while transforming its geometry from a circle to a four-pointer. It was a complicated move by his standards, but he managed. Succeeded. Buoyed by that victory, he tried another advanced move: Using both hands, he added dimension to the diamond shield and walked it forward.
Be the geometry!
The Eternal’s flail bounced off the odd angle, throwing the monster off balance. Teyo leaned in and shoved. The Eternal stumbled back, and Gideon cut off its head.
“Good,” Gideon barked before turning away to attack another of the creatures.
Teyo found himself smiling.
More praise than I ever got from Abbot Barrez.
Again he heard the abbot’s voice in his head: “This is no time for grinning, acolyte! One success does not a shieldmage make!” Teyo quickly shook off the smile and turned his shield to protect Jaya’s back.
Or is it Kaya?
Jace, their unacknowledged leader, shouted, “We need to summon the guilds! Bring them into the fight!”
Ral blasted another Eternal and shouted back, “I’m not sure that’s possible! I can command the Izzet into the field—and maybe Kaya could do the same with the Orzhov.” He glanced toward the dark-skinned woman with the halo of curly black hair, finally confirming for Teyo which Planeswalker was which.
Lavinia finished Ral’s thought: “The rest of the guilds have retreated to shore up their own territories, more suspicious of one another than of Bolas.”
Kaya said, “And that’s not even counting the guilds that already serve Bolas. Golgari and Azorius. Maybe Gruul, too.”
Teyo saw Lavinia frown at the mention of Azorius. He guessed that was her guild and briefly wondered what each guild represented.
At least with the Carpenters’ Guild in Oasis, you knew what was what.
Back-to-back with Kaya as she parried blows with an Eternal, Teyo saw Rat slide in between them. She leaned over and whispered to Kaya, “Call Hekara. She’ll bring the whole Cult.”
Kaya stabbed her Eternal, then paused to shake her head sorrowfully. “Hekara’s dead.”
Ral Zarek snapped, “Don’t you think I know that!”
For the first time since he had met her, Teyo saw Rat lose her smile. “Hekara was my friend,” she said. “She knew me. She saw me.”
Teyo didn’t know what to do. Pushing his geometry off onto his left hand, he reached out with his right and gave her arm a little reassuring squeeze. Or he tried to make it reassuring, anyway.
Rat responded with a sad but grateful smile.
Ral shouted, “We may have something better than the guilds. Planeswalkers.”
Lavinia said, “I told them about the Beacon.”
“It should summon every Planeswalker in the Multiverse to Ravnica. More are coming now. Look!”
Teyo looked toward where Ral was pointing. A burst of flames signaled the arrival of a substantial minotaur, wielding a fiery iron chain. The creature was caught off guard by his surroundings and the Eternals, and barely managed to defend himself. But soon his chain was swinging in wide arcs around him, shattering any Eternal that came too close.
“I think his name’s Angrath,” Jace said. “And there’s Kiora and Tamiyo, and there’s the girl from Amonkhet…”
“Samut,” Gideon called out. “Her name’s Samut.”
Again Teyo turned to follow Jace’s gaze. He saw four women running toward them.
“Who’s the fourth?” Ral said.
“Don’t know her,” Jace replied.
“She’s a Planeswalker.”
“How can you be sure?”
“His goggles,” Kaya called out from behind Teyo.
Karn said, “Let me see those,” and grabbed them right off Ral’s head.
“Hey, stop!” For a second it looked as if Ral was going to strike Karn with lightning.
Teyo had just enough time to wonder if that would even hurt the metal man before Karn said, “I see what you’ve done here.” He handed the goggles back to Ral and cast some kind of spell by circling his clublike left hand in the air. Teyo watched as streams of golden light streaked off the golem’s silver hand.
