Spark of Creation

by obsidian dreamer

The end of what was then was the beginning of what is now, the truth recalled only by those left orphaned outside reality. To restore what was is beyond the ken of mortals; only a desperate plan with the wildest chance can see this path begun. Fortunately for the Multiverse, one blonde ninja has always had a lucky streak...

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Duels of the Planeswalkers

For all their magic, their prowess hand to hand and the ability to traverse the planes of existence planeswalkers were, though few of them would admit it, flawed beings. Born mortal and ascended only by chance, usually a dark or life-threatening one, they were set apart by the spark but despite their connection to mana they were mortal beings who lived, loved and fell prey to the same vices as any other. These weaknesses were seldom tested; few who knew what they were dealing with would berate a planeswalker to their faces even if they were no longer the gods they once had been but, even so, there were flaws there for those who knew how to exploit them.

And of all flaws of the planeswalkers there was never one so common, or so costly, as arrogance.

XXX

Twisting her blade up and around again the shaman of the Revane tribe kept a hard grip on her temper as the human once more evaded a strike that should have split her in two. She had remarkable balance and dexterity, almost that of an elf, and a virtually prenatural knowledge of where she was going to strike, suffering little more than rips in her cloak as she evaded Nissa's constant offence; even the earth couldn't help her as, in close, she couldn't spare an instants' concentration to imbue her mana into the living soil and wood. Sweat trickling down her brow Nissa sped up even more, her lithe form dancing as her spear became a forest of points, each one ringing off the answering web of steel the human wove about herself,

"You're getting closer, almost cut my greave that time," Nissa snarled quietly, jumping back to gain some more room but unable to keep away, the human right behind her as her sword flashed, "not exactly smart to get so close with a spear though – maybe next time you'll know better than to interrupt a civilised conversation."

"There is little humans do I would call civilised."

"Strange coming from a feral elf; no offense," plenty was taken but again Nissas' opponent was her match, speaking even as spear clashed against blade, "your, tribe's not known for, settling down."

"We're also not known for mercy to those who insult us," she riposted, "we leave them as bait for the beasts as even you should remember."

"I do remember," the woman mused, "hence why I had to change Sisna up a bit to make him likeable, though for the record I'm sorry I got the genders wrong. It's, well, I didn't exactly get a time for a good look at either of you; I flipped a coin and called it wrong."

"Apologise in blood," Nissa demanded, a pulse of mana through her feet making the grass under her opponent erupt into thorns, forcing her to jump away and granting the elf time to flick sweat from her brow before it could run down and sting her eyes as another voice, one she'd almost forgotten about, spoke over the lull in the fighting,

"What is your name?"

"Melanie Vynsacher; see Revane, politeness can get you a lot further than brutality can," the elf didn't even waste her breath in a snort of derision as the human focussed on the half-snake, "long time no see, though I never got your name either."

"Yet you have used a form of it; Skraav is Vraska written differently." Melanie smiled sheepishly,

"Okay you got me; I didn't know it when the Azorius came though, I found out later. Even the Golgari don't have many gorgons so it didn't take much digging."

"We are few," Vraska agreed before glancing at her companion, "please do not attack, I am talking." Nissa's ear twitched, the only sign of her aggravation as she spat,

"And I don't care to listen; this thing insulted me and I will have a blood-price."

"You will kill her?"

"Of course."

"Then will you eat her?" The bland question drowned Nissa's trepidation of the other planeswalker under disgusted shock,

"Loathsome beast, I am above such things." Vraska's symbiotes hissed, the elf taking a pace back,

"I am loathsome yet I kill only to eat or defend myself and my close ones; you murder for honour and valour and call yourself civilised? Your logic makes no sense."

"Hear, hear," the gorgon had an unexpected ally, Melanie clapping her hand against her sword arm in applause, "I tried to get that across in the print, how Skraav's nice even to the elf sent to kill her, I hope it came through alright."

"It did, though you are ill-informed about gorgon reproduction, we do not lay eggs contrary to popular belief."

"I know but Skraav had to have a reason for staying put, and anyway the bite you use wouldn't..."

"Enough!" Nissa had gone beyond her limited patience, "You care nothing for what you do or do not have snake-woman but I value the name of my clan and will not tolerate some stranger besmirching it and me. Now stop this pointless babbling and face me!"

Tapping into the earth to fortify her aggressive stance the elf lowered the tip of her spear towards the womans' heart, Melanie not moving for a moment as she appeared shocked at the interruption, shock that would be the death of her as the ground under her feet split asunder, gaping jaws of mud rising up smother her opponent. She noticed too late the flash of mana, a pearlescent blue that shone under the humans' feet before agony exploded in her midriff, folding her up like a punctured bladder-bulb as she was hurled away by the impact, a second agonising slap to the back of her hand making her lose her grip on her spear. She hit the ground hard several feet away but natural agility honed by years of survival from before Zendikars' Calming had her roll to her feet in an eye-blink, pain already fading as the soothing touch of green mana as she beheld her opponent commit sacrilege, the human daring to place her hand on the weapon she had claimed upon surviving her tribes' ritual into adulthood,

"I've had enough of you," the humans' eyes, once sparkling green, were now dull, her ash-grey hair swaying in the wind, "you think we're barbarians and monsters compared to you elves Princess? Fine; hold these Vraska," Nissa was forced to watch in horror as blasphemy was added to insult, her staff thrown to the gorgon along with the humans' sword as the other mage raised her fists, fury burning in her gaze,

"This barbarian is going to give you a beating you'll never forget!"

XXX

Please Ula, Cozi and Emeria I'll do my salutations every day – I found your temple Ula and I'm sorry I swore there, I'll go back and pay homage a hundred times if don't let Gideon get hurt.

The fight was like a Roil storm, so terrible you should look away but too enthralling to even blink from, the two warriors so swift it seemed three gaffs were fending off blazing white lashes without number. She'd seen Gideon practise and half-listened when he told her of mana and how it had to be respected before she could hope to use it – now she wished she'd listened harder, so much harder as the white mage stood like a sea cliff, his whip blurring around him and snapping at the twirling, dancing Kor. The mergirl had seen Gideon fight before, and seen the sural put to other uses such as escaping from temple traps or, if there was money on it, snatching three separate bottles off a bar top and depositing them in front of those who requested them but she'd never seen his full strength, the mana he was unleashing both majestic and fearsome. Jhon'ee was equally as strong, her gaff knocking away the sural's questing heads and sparks of blue flying into most of the white mana structures the hieromancer weaved, destabilising them before they could take effect. Biting her lip, trying to think of some way to help and cursing herself for being so weak that she couldn't, Kiora was too far away to see the small figure that ended the battle before it was too late.

The Kor was a fearsome warrior and skilled, far more skilled than he was at shaping and casting mana, the oceans' strength undermining the formulas of his orthodoxy magic. This battle would be won or lost at close quarters and Jhon'ee was a frustratingly defensive fighter, her fishing gaff able to keep his sural at bay and the Kor herself born to the sand, the loose footing not slowing her down as it did him. Snapping the steel lash and planning his next moves as the crash of an abnormally large wave drowned out his battle psalm the hieromancer was distracted, just for an instant, by a familiar flash of blue-green trying to sneak up behind his opponent, coming in from the Kors' left; Kiora! If he got out of this alive he was going to drown her, he wasn't sure how but he'd figure it out later as he desperately twisted his lash, seeking to goad Jhon'ee into circling away from the merfolk girl.

It was a gambit that failed; in an acrobatic combination she rolled under one head, knocked another away with the butt of her hooked spear and pulled her stomach in to avoid the white blaze the third shot at her, the hindering light earthing harmlessly behind her; damn it! No choice now, Kiora was running straight towards her, looking to tackle her around the knees and Jhon'ee, focussed solely on the fight, would hit her, maybe even kill her without realising she'd done it – he flicked his wrist, sacrificing his defence and sending the last tip of his sural out, the Kor dodging past it and towards him as it hit the running merfolk in the stomach and passed straight through her.

An illusion.

A bastard illusion and he'd fallen right for it!

Had his life not been in danger he would have been impressed; as it was years of training from both before and after his ascension let him pull off the only move the tactician before him didn't expect. She was within the sweep of his sural and her gaff was already coming down, whatever he did was going to hurt so he would make sure it hurt her more than him. Dropping the whip he focussed mana into his off-hand, relishing the panic in his opponents' eyes as her blow was too late to stop. Pain shot through his right arm as the hook of her weapon bit into it like a nail, cleanly going in one side of his bicep and out the other but he was used to pain and it didn't stop him reaching forwards and gripping her arm with his left hand. Chains of binding white mana wrapped around her and she was too close to counter him, he held on through the excruciation and snarled as he realised she too had a last-ditch gambit.

Abandoning her weapon she snatched a knife from her belt Gideon, even while concentrating on his spell just able to shift his arm enough that Jhon'ee merely scratched the back of his hand with its tip. Just before the binding completed the hieromancer looked into the Kor's face, her determined but regretful gaze and her mouthing the words 'well won' the last he saw of her before it exiled her within a circle of gold. With his foe vanquished he sagged a little, battle-fever fading and the pain of his wounds catching up, along with an odd tingle from his left hand that he guessed meant nothing good,

"Gideon!" The metal hook in his arm stopped him turning around so he looked over his shoulder, trying to put a brave face on his pain as Kiora came to a dead halt, hand clasped over her mouth,

"Were you always that green?" He quipped lamely, his humour lost on the trembling girl,

"You've got a gaff in your arm!"

"I know, now look away," he braced himself for more pain, forcing his left hand towards the head of the embedded weapon,

"No, it has to go out as it came in," the mergirl shrieked, fear he'd do himself even more damage overcoming revulsion as she stepped closer to him, "I, I'll do it."

"You can't reach."

"Kneel down, or squat," she croaked, reaching for the butt of the weapon and not looking at him, "I've used these for years, I know what I'm doing." Gideon's nod let a lead weight fall into her stomach, his voice resonating like a bell in her head,

"Remember when you have to act, act..."

."..Without pause," Kiora second-guessed him, the saying not hiding the feeling of wood in her palms or quelling the nausea roiling in her gut; it's just like a fish, just a fish – push forwards and up and it slides out; "one, two, three!"

She pushed forwards and up, the hook slid free cleanly and Gideon fell to his knees, left hand clapped across the now-spurting hole as the veins stood out in his neck, a strangled gargle all he allowed himself to express at the white-hot needle coring his muscle. Existence flashed white, then blue, then red, he barely felt the impact into his side until at last the tide of agony receded and he was able to focus on the shivering little bundle now burrowed into his uninjured side,

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry this is my fault; I shouldn't have let you follow me! I'm bad luck, I should have run away!" Trying to staunch the bleeding Gideon managed to drop an elbow on top of her head, looking to stop the recriminations before they could begin,

"Don't be stupid..."

"They should have thrown me to the Roil; I'm cursed, I'm a curse on..."

"Kiora!" He very rarely shouted and she listened when he did, turning her watering gaze onto him as he breathed, in and out, to master his pain and speak calmly, "We don't have time, the others could be in danger. I need you to bandage my arm and what were you talking about, the Roil?" She bit he lip, sniffing hard as she withdrew from under his arm, reaching in to one of the pouches at his belt for the bandages he habitually carried along with flint, tinder and other sundries needed for life,

"A Roil tide came just after I was born, took half my school, my father. I should have been thrown out to appease it but, my mother, outcast because she wouldn't, because of me. We were alone until she told me what she'd done; I left, swam away so she could go back."

"And Ula's temple?"

"I heard drunk landlings saying about it; thought, if I could give her statue to my school, they wouldn't think I was bad luck," she stopped, shivering as he slowly uncovered his injury, the bleeding sluggish but not stopped as she began wrapping the cloth around it, tears coming again as she went on, "Halimar, was trying to get there when I got caught by that bitch! I should have swum away so you..."

."..I," Gideon cut in, his voice strong after he swallowed a lump in his throat; the Tidal Wave was sprung from sorrow – I was truly blessed in my life; "would still have a gaff in my arm if you weren't here, that doesn't sound like bad luck to me."

"It is; she made something look like me and she hurt you and even on Zendikar I was bad, didn't listen. I'm a curse, Roil-spawned; you should hate me," she hissed brokenly before stiffening; Gideon had thrown his numbing left arm around her and in his embrace the Wave of Zendikar trembled even harder, face screwed up to deny tears,

"You are not cursed, you are not bad luck and I will never hate you; every shrine, every trap, every step I took behind you on Zendikar I would take again gladly. I don't want to hear you say anything like that again, promise me."

"But, Jhon'ee..."

"Was a very skilled mage attuned to the sea, I should have expected mirages; now promise me," he demanded, releasing the mergirl only when he heard her murmur her agreement and regarding her as severely as he could, "you know how seriously I take a promise?" At her nod he smiled, grateful to see the expression echoed on her face as his old training resurfaced,

"Good, now we need to get out of here and find the others. Get my sural."

She nodded, quickly dragging the steel lash out of the sand and helping him wrap it around his waist as he couldn't use his arms. The bare trickle of mana he could channel without his hands was enough to keep him on his feet and resolute, the strength of the fields helping numb the poison and the pain as Kiora glanced up at the remnant of his spell,

"What did you do?"

"It's an imprisonment," the hieromancer explained, flexing his left hand and grimacing; I can barely hold a dagger never mind my sural; "while it's in place she can't escape."

"Why didn't you...?"

"Because I didn't need to; I've told you taking a life should be the last resort and I mean it. Besides, she didn't want to kill me," the Kor's face and the truth within it passed in front of him again as he glanced down at the mergirl, Kiora stunned as he explained, "if she wanted me dead she'd have swung for my neck, not my arm. Anyway it's done now, we have to go."

"Right, which way?"

"Inland; we'd see or hear others fighting on the beach but we've no idea where they've been sent." He set off, not seeing the mergirl stoop by the side of his containment spell for a second before catching up, falling in on his right side to catch him if he fell. The beach quickly fell away to rolling bluffs, the two staying low with Kiora ranging ahead due to her size and colouring until a sudden bellow to the left, a long way away, made her rush back to Gideons' side, her fright met with his stoicism as he realised the most likely reason for the rising, echoing roar.

It was the noise a beast might make if enraged, or afraid.

XXX

Who the hell; as she dodged backwards from flensing steel and forced her opponent away with a jet of flame Chandra snatched a breath, grateful her eyewear was designed to not fog up; made this bitch fireproof?

Fortunately a flickering wisp distracted her opponent, Exava leaping after the Guildpact with a frenzied smile and suggestions so lewd the pyromancers' toes curled. Mentally swearing to deliver their champion back to the Rakdos in an urn she paused, heeding an unspoken message; what they were using so far hadn't worked, it was time to get creative.

Exava was different, much more dangerous than they'd ever seen her before, quite an achievement for a Rakdos. Whatever drugs were coursing through her system had her flipping around like a Simic creation in boiling water, damned near impossible to hit and her mental state, precarious to begin with, so degraded Jaces' illusions were having little effect. Aside from tearing open the odd phantasm as it flew towards her she was also surprisingly clinical, sparing little or no effort to dodge the varied spells the two mages were throwing towards her as she appeared immune to them. That shock had cost Chandra as the mad banshee charged through a curtain of flame unharmed, Jaces' bolt of force blasting the blood-witch away before her maimed hand gave her more than a scratch. Fire that would have turned steel to slag seemed to fade around her, negating a lot of Chandra's options but she wasn't conceding; Jace always had a plan,

"Now, while she's distracted."

"On it," evening her breathing the red mage ignored the danger Jace was in to focus her fire into a new shape, a new form birthed with a keening cry. Glad as her phoenix swept over the battlefield Chandra raced after the pair of them, guided by the maddening cackle of their opponent,

"First your fingers, then your nose, then your eyelids, then your toes"; and that's still better than what they played at her club; "I like your face Guildpact, I'll like it even more stuffed and mounted." From the distance she saw Jaces' hand shimmer blue, concentrating as the signal was given,

"Shame, I never liked yours Exava," Jace admitted, a gleaming spiders' web springing up between them but, somehow, split apart by her ever-gripped knife; a manablade of some kind? That's not good; he had no good memories of such weapons and if someone had given this maniac one they had to stop her here, "just as well it's leaving now."

Her look of confusion was one he'd remember forever as a wake of flame passed overhead, the summoned bird of fire and rage latching onto her shoulders and dragging her aloft, her curses and screams fading slightly as she was pulled into the air. Recovering slightly and focussing to pull a little mana from the distant sea he could feel he suddenly ducked as there was a loud blast above him, scorching warmth on his back as the phoenix detonated. The way she would have wanted to go; the thought made him chuckle grimly as he turned towards the distant figure of his friend, the first true one he'd had in many years, only to squint at her expression – it was hard to tell through her lenses but she looked almost...

"Jace" ...afraid, "that wasn't me!" It took a few seconds to sink in, a few seconds too long as several small dark spheres flew over his head and a shadow fell over him. Spinning, knowing it was already too late, Jace had time for a last regret as the smoking, fire-blackened thing plunged towards him, blade outstretched; I won't be writing any more denouements for you, I'm sorry Chandra.

Unaware of her friends' peril the fire mage was prone on the ground, hands over her ears and mouth open as she'd recognised the small metal containers spinning through the air. The small bombs had been badly-aimed but they hardly needed to be accurate to kill – who the hell was giving that guild explosives? As the earth ceased juddering she threw herself to her feet, vision still sepia through her goggles as a puff of wind blew the smoke away,

"Jace," she called, trying to bank down her rising fear as she remembered the shape falling towards him; if Exava had survived and landed close enough... she couldn't think of it, "Jace, talk to me."

"Chandra," relief hit her like a punch in the guts, "run." That was a punch from a giant, her very core chilled as the smoke blew away. Jace stood ramrod straight with a dagger under his jaw, the Rakdos with her legs scissoring his waist and her chin on his shoulder; it might have been sensual had she not been black with soot and grinning psychotically. Her mouth ran dry, heart palpitating wildly as Exava rubbed her cheek against the mind-mages,

"A legal bind," she cackled madly at her own joke, Jace shivering but otherwise unable to move, his telepathy useless against someone with a mind so base and broken, "let's cut it open and see what falls out."

"No!" Chandra stepped forward,

"Run you idiot!"

"Shut up," she demanded aloud, realising her mistake only when the dagger pushed up harder, puckering the flesh of the mind-mages' jaw as Exava tutted,

"No, no shhhh, I am talking; I hate the pact, the peace, where's the fun without anarchy? So I will break the pact, I will break him."

"And all you have ever known will end if you do," the blood-witch looked up as Chandra lifted her goggles, letting her see the topaz jewels her eyes had become as she delivered her promise, "kill him, hell hurt him and I will return to Ravnica and put the Rakdos to the torch, every club, every riot, every cultist. Your guild will be ashes, its name a hex; you think you've seen fire bitch," suddenly she was ablaze, every blade of grass within thirty feet shrivelling as she regarded her quarry with a glare like the suns' fury,

"Hurt Jace Beleren and I will show you what it means to burn!"

It wasn't for show, not all of it; from what Chandra knew of the Rakdos their champions were thrill-killers, berserkers who cared little if they lived or died as long as they made a good spectacle. By making herself the biggest threat possible she might be able to lure the blood-witch into dropping her captive to hunt her, a plan that half-worked as Exava's glassy eyes focussed for a second. Her fiery form was reflected in their engorged pupils as she licked her lips, then she nuzzled closer to her prisoners' neck, words Chandra couldn't hear taking effect as a trickle of mana flowed into Jaces' ear; she's a caster now! Oh great; this made a bad situation even worse as the cultist dismounted her stolen ride and pushed gently, Jace unable to catch himself as he fell flat on his face,

"Ah, the Guildpact falls, he is hurt," and there was a smear of blood on Jace's chin, cut by a sharp rock as Exava grinned, "show me your fire!"

Chandra did, twin blades of flame flaring in her hands as she rushed forwards, unable to risk her larger spells in case she caught the other planeswalker in the disaster radius. With a wild laugh Exava sprang to meet her, the single knife and her strange protection for the tongues of flame preventing Chandra score a lasting hit but that was never the intention. Kicking out she caught her enemy on the knee, Exava not even feeling the blow that made her stumble but that was immaterial; before she could recover Chandra was where she needed to be, Jace behind her and facing her opponent, smirking,

"Now I've got the Pact."

"Good," it was her smile, cruel and cold as opposed to her usual madcap grin, which made Chandra's skin prickle; when she cast aside part of her robe the firebrands' hair all but stood up; bombs? No; the thought of being outwitted by this madwoman chilled her as Exava pulled a pin with the tip of her fire-melded blade; she wanted us to switch places!;

"Let's play catch!"

XXX

After his first blade had scratched Venser the assassin had ripped the caul from their eyes, their underestimation of him their undoing. Before the trio could even gather mana he was amongst them, quickness and skills they'd never seen or suspected catching them unprepared; Venser had been first tripped and was now strangled by his lashing tail as he skilfully sliced apart a blizzard of paper cranes Tamiyo's scrolls set upon him as she alighted to the air. He snarled after her, keeping the last of the three within his sight as she picked herself up from where she'd fallen as he tightened his grip on his captive,

"Stupid-man dying Moon Sage," he chattered, beckoning the floating soratami with his blade, "you come down, I let him and other go." She didn't move, remaining in the sky with her kami-blessed paper shields about her as she watched the humans' struggles grow weaker, biting her lip – she had no wish to lose her head but at the same time Venser was innocent in this affair and had saved her from the assassin many times before; could she pass into the cloud-gates with his blood on her hands? Even as she wrestled with the karmic question it was answered, another coming forwards who had already suffered too much,

"Leave him alone," Kaguya's voice was soft but determined as she stepped forwards, the nezumi watching her warily, "you don't like killing Splay-Paw-san, you could have killed Tamiyo-san before."

"Was no need, now is," the nezumi replied, brandishing his weapon threateningly, "stay back cloud-gaze." The soratami smiled slightly at his name; he had never been able to meet her changed eyes, thinking them bad luck; and, considering how often I saw him coming, he was right;

"No Splay-Paw-san, I will not," she stepped forwards again, ignoring Tamiyo's calls and Vensers frantic, if feeble, gestures to go back, "if you want to kill her, I must die first."

"Then," the nezumi lowered his blade, looking down before his head snapped up, teeth bared as he lunged forwards, "die-die!"

Tamiyo gasped, her prepared spell slipping from her mind as she saw the other soratami slump, the rat-mans' blade finding its mark. She had never thought, barely even considered their lives were in danger from the inept ninja, now an innocent was dead; she should have gone back to Oboro, hunted down those responsible for sending assassins after her. And I will; though she knew little offensive magic she knew enough to see her friend avenged; I will find them all and slit their throats at their executions myself! I will carve the name Kaguya on the temple of the grandfathers...what?

Only her attunement to the mana of the clouds let her sense it, the faintest tickling of mist gathering atop the back of the now-dead soratami who was changing before them. Her shock was echoed in Venser's purpling face as the nezumi squealed, realising his peril too late; Kaguya's flesh hardened to wood and grew, the mana of the earth and water combining to let branches and tendrils ensnare their foe. As he was caged in living branches the ground beneath the Moon Sage shifted, the real Kaguya emerging and looking severe,

"So you would kill me Splay-Paw-san; so be it," she gestured, mana of a different hue fortifying her creation and the nezumi squealed again, this time in pain as the black mana sprouted thorns in his prison. As he lashed to free himself Venser was at least able to heave himself free of the tail that had nearly killed him, heaving down a breath as scrolls whispered around him, Tamiyo's creations shielding him from reflexive lashes of the appendage as she returned to the earth, looking at the older planeswalker with new respect,

"Kaguya-chan, you have never shown that spell before."

"It is not strictly a spell," she admitted, opening her palm to show a handful of seeds, "I was once a gardener; I have never forgotten my craft." The Moon Sage smiled, bowing deeply from the waist,

"Should you ever wish to return to Oboro all its lands and gardens will be put at your disposal."

"And I'll be the first to visit," Venser added as he stood up, still a little croaky as he rubbed his throat, the vision of the gardener's supposed death making his normally warm gaze cold as he gathered mana into his palm, "now let me get rid of this thing."

Still trapped and impaled the nezumi snarled, snapping at the plants entangling him futiley before, in desperation, he curled his tail in and chattered something in a high tone none had heard him speak before. Her research giving her a rough idea of the nezumi tongue Tamiyo realised what he was doing but was too late to stop him, her smothering mist landing just as the assassin seemed to vanish, slipping between shadows and escaping his demise at Venser's hand, the artificer dispersing the mana before it hit Kaguya's simulacrum. Her eyes were already alight, the veins protruding as her blessed vision saw all, trying to locate their escaped aggressor,

"He is beyond my sight."

"We've got time then," Venser said quickly, regarding the now-empty plant the soratami's mana had grown with awe; able to plait together four colours, Kaguya had the greatest breadth of strength he'd ever seen in a planeswalker even if she could only channel it through wood, grass and trees, "what was that?"

"Kanji-magic, shadow spells," Tamiyo explained, eyes on the surrounding area and grateful they weren't in a wood or otherwise shaded area, "he must have written one in blood and activated it to escape."

"Then we should do the same before he comes back; we need the others, I know..." The sojourner was cut off by a sudden gasp from Kaguya, the soratami still with her eyes open as she turned to him,

"Your friends, I see them over there."

"We go," Tamiyo answered for them, kanji flying from her scrolls and branding themselves onto the clothes of her friends, allowing the wind to bear them aloft, "lead the way Kaguya-san, we will find them and if that pestilential assassin returns," she raised her arms and bore them away, her last words left as a challenge,

"He will regret signing that contact for my head."

They were borne away, much faster in the air than over land, the tree nurtured by the soratami gardener quickly left behind and out of sight as, a moment later, a whiskered snout emerged from its shadow, sniffing the air and followed by the rest of the nezumi as he realised they were gone. Tracking their likely progress he paused only to recover his weapon and chew on a sprig of mint-grass, smiling slightly as he made to go after them.

This hunt was far from over.

XXX

"What took you so long?"

Blocking out the Vulshok's grim humour Venser raced across the sand, momentarily forgetting the soratami at his heels as he took in the two prone figures lying conjoined before him. He mapped out the battle while assessing its aftermath; scuffs in the sand indicating tight footwork, blasted and vitrified patches showing the power of geomancy and, worse, the trench Koth had dug as he dragged himself finger-length by agonising finger-length to throw his maimed arm over his friend. Diving onto his knees and grimacing as he saw the Hammer tribe leaders' forearms pierced cleanly, he couldn't help but demand answers,

"What the hell happened?"

"We lost."

"Details; this'll hurt."

"Do it," the Vulshok grimaced, his metallic hair clicking in pain as Venser's mana began slowly repairing the damage his arms had suffered, "it was him Venser, the man from the mists was real."

"But how...?"

"Never mind," just like with the resistance, questions not devoted to warfare could be answered later, "your enemy?" Venser checked over his shoulder, grateful to see his companions at his back with their eyes out for danger,

"Gone for now, don't know how long for though; who was he?"

"Didn't get his name," even through the pain of being partially reforged, Koth somehow managed to laugh gutturally before turning serious, "he knows Venser, he told us the truth about her, about Tiszta."

"Later..."

"No, it broke Elspeth," the Vulshok broke off to glare at the woman partially under him, "she swore she was better, she swore it!"

Venser nodded, glancing at the fallen knight with a heavy heart; more than once during the darkest days of Mirrodin he'd heard crying from her quarters, seen her practice until she could no longer lift her blade and watched her stalk off to be alone for many long hours, trying to outrun some doom that dogged her heels. Following the end of the invasion and the rebuilding beginning she'd been happier than he'd ever seen her, even more so when she'd taken Melira under her wing, but he sensed that even the end of the Phyrexian threat hadn't truly brought her the peace she craved,

"What did he say?" The artificer didn't truly want to know; he was the only one the other two planeswalkers had trusted with the truth of Tiszta's origins and if the truth was enough to shatter a woman as formidable as Elspeth Tirel it was something to be dreaded,

"She's a machine, my fleck is the perfect machine," Koth said, pain lacing his tone as he thought about the little girl waiting with his compound for her father to return, "she's all metal as Melira is all flesh. We knew this but we did not know the rest – she's like us Venser, she bears the aether's mark."

"That's impossible," the mere thought made the artificers' skin crawl in both disbelief and, in a strange way, hope; since his mentor had fallen, the silver golem left hollow and destroyed by the removal of the glistening oil that had finally corrupted him, there were no others like him that bore the spark, "even Karn was made a planeswalker."

"But Karn didn't live, Tiszta does – she eats, sleeps and feels, she cannot be told from flesh," his arms repaired by the artificer Koth brought his hand to his face, "and she was never the dream of Mirrodin."

"Who would..." the Vulshock shifted and Venser stopped dead, seeing the dread brand and remembering for the first time in ages the tales of his homeland, the other name it bore, ."..he lied, he must have; their Father is dead!"

"He has never lied – a machine with a spark, the dream of Yawgmoth himself," Koths' tears were burning as they slid down his face, his voice quiet and choked, "the perfect Phyrexian."

Venser felt dislocated, torn from reality – he wanted to deny it, to shake the Vulshok by the shoulders until he said it wasn't the truth but it was never going to happen; Koth wouldn't lie about his daughter; and he wouldn't be the worst affected;

"Elspeth," as Koth made to sorely stand up, testing the repairs made to his arm the artificer saw her properly for the first time and felt his guts twist. Physically she was well but her eyes were blank, seeing nothing and she didn't react as he held her, limp as a doll with her sword lying in the sand. Following his gaze Koth grimly finished his account of their battles' aftermath,

"He told us as we were fighting just as I told you; when she realised she fell, just, fell. He left her, focussed on me and he was strong; red mana here is weaker, I couldn't stop him with the earth and hand to hand," he glanced at the discoloured metal on his arms, "he's as deadly as she is."

"Where is he now?"

"That way," the voice made them both jump, Kaguya's tread so light they hadn't heard her approach, "travelling inland." A thrill ran up Vensers' spine,

"He's going for the others!"

"And we have to stop him; get her sword," Koth scooped Elspeth up, Kaguya picking the weapon from its sandy tomb gingerly just as a flock of paper flew overhead, Tamiyo joining them and conjuring the same marks as before as she spoke,

"The clouds have shown me where we have been scattered to; those maps should tell the others."

"How far?"; finally; Vensers' relief was palpable; some good news;

"Not very, I saw your enemy Koth-san, I know his likely route," she held out one of the maps she'd hastily scrawled and the Vulshok scrutinised it before jabbing part of it with a metal finger,

"Can you get us there?" The soratami nodded, gesturing her shining kanji to affix to them all, the effort taxing her as they rose,

"I will cloak our passage," Kaguya breathed, a small stream of mist issuing from her sleeves and chilling the air around them, her eyes guiding them where others would be thwarted by their cover as, together in the mist, the planeswalkers moved on to stop one of their enemies.

XXX

One of the effects of the process that had birthed her was that she barely remembered the human woman she had once been; the bite of her sire had changed her mind as well as her body. Because of this Vraska knew a lot of the time she came across as insensitive but what she said was usually justified, hence why she felt no shame as she made her observation about the two-being knot in front of her,

"That looks remarkably painful."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a master of understatement Vraska?" The victor of the fist-fight laughed, pulling backwards on her opponents' arms as, on her knees and kept there by the humans' sandals pressing out the back of them, the elf tensed in agony,

"Once or twice," the gorgon admitted before glancing at the pinned shaman, "you might as well concede, you're just going to hurt yourself more." Nissa snarled and then stiffened, more pressure strangling her retort as Mel spoke for her,

"You're wasting your time; you know what these prideful folk are like Vraska. I'm sure she's got a plan – I mean how could a pitiful human like me beat a great and powerful elf like her, and of the Joraga tribe to boot, the best of the best of the Multiverse? She's probably trying to work out how I cheated as we speak and don't waste your breath asking her to show sense; she'd rather die than admit defeat to someone other than another pointy-ear. We could be here a while unless, of course, I'm wrong; what do you say elf, ready to give in yet?"

Trying to force her mana into the soil but blocked by the blue ribbon the human had wended around her it was all Nissa could do to shake her head; she was bruised and beaten but, even with her arms screaming for relief, she would never concede,

"Fine; bored now – I'm ending this," Nissa's mask of suffering became even more pronounced as the human leant down, more weight on the back of her knees grinding them into the forest floor. Her arms were locked out, she couldn't bend them as the woman reached down and looped one arm around both her captives' elbows, leaving her a hand free. She braced herself for more pain, so much so that the feather-light touches that suddenly raced along her ear made her gasp,

"Oh, sensitive are they? I always wondered about that," Mel admitted freely, continuing to fondle the keen organ as the shaman of the Joraga tribe bit her lip, quivering at the ambivalent sensations of pain and pleasure, "so if I did this," she twisted the tip and Nissa couldn't stop a faint mewl of suffering, "yes, that should work. Tweaky, tweaky; I wonder if I can pull one longer than the other?"

"Enough," Vraska's rasp broke into the conversation, the gorgon taking a decisive step forwards, "there's no need for this Mel Vynsacher; you've won."

"Well two out of three of us figured that much out; listen Vraska I like you and I really mean that; you're not judgemental even to folk who'd damn you in an instant. I know what that's like and that," Nissa hissed, tears clustering at the corner of her eyes as her ear was yanked unmercifully, "is why I can't stand people like Princess here. We've met before haven't we elf; want to tell her what happened, what you tried to do to me just because I was there and I wasn't one of you? Speak or I'll pull your ear off and stab you in the eye with it, on my oath as a warrior I will!"

"You," Nissa managed as the pain at the side of her head finally ebbed, "you were on our lands..."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why was I on your lands?"

"I, I don't know..."

"Exactly, you didn't even ask; I was just there and I wasn't a hoity-toity forest-dweller so the only thing I was good for was worm-bait. I could have been lost, I could have been a messenger – hell I could have been coming to warn you of your forthcoming doom it wouldn't have mattered, you'd have had me for fertiliser anyway. She tried to kill me Vraska, kill me for just existing; you've been there haven't you, people wanting you dead for being what you are – what would you do if you were me now?"

"Beaten her as you have done, but," the gorgon raised a hand, looking between the elf and the girl who had her pinned, "I know humiliation as well as I know hate; I wouldn't have anyone else suffer either. You've beaten her, there's no need for any more."

"You'd stop me?"

"If I must, honour isn't worth dying for."

"I doubt Princess agrees – are you really willing to save someone who hates you?"

"Revane close your eyes." Remembering the legends she did as she was bid, pride abandoned for survival as she heard the hated human speak again,

"You'd really, wow, you're not joking are you? Have you ever used it before, on a person I mean?"

"Four times, each of them regretted but necessary."

"Well let's not strike though that tally-gate here, she's not worth it," Nissa's knees and elbows sobbed in relief as the pressure was lifted, then she was shoved face-first into the dirt, pinned by a sandal as a voice growling in her throbbing ear, "I want you to remember this Princess, remember that a barbarian beat you and a loathsome beast you wouldn't spit on stood up for you. You consider yourself and your fellow elves the pinnacle of the Multiverse, you're not worth the dust on Vraska's feet; her politeness and her defending you are the only reasons you're free, think about that. Toss us my sword please."

"If I throw it over there will you be offended; I would be tempted to leave a scar or scratch."

"So you're not above petty revenge then? Fine, toss it that way, I've got places to be; Spikes, Mr Whiskers and Lady Stabbington are probably going overboard and Uncle Timmy can't be everywhere at once."

None of those names filled Vraska with any confidence so she quickly threw the sheathed blade into the forest, Mel giving her beaten opponents' arm one last twist before scampering after it, quickly lost to sight amid the trees as the gorgon glanced down at the prone elf,

"You're not dead," when this got no response Vraska, running out of patience and worried for her friends, prodded the shaman with the butt of her spear, "get up, we have to find the others."

"Leave me alone," Nissa's voice was flat as she turned her head away, bile swirling in her belly as humiliation burned like a physical wound. Fortunately this pain faded a few seconds later, unfortunately this was because she was being hauled up by the hair, her watering eyes impaled by Vraska's cold stare,

"We don't have time for your self-pity; why did you lose?"

"What?" The question was so unexpected Nissa stopped kicking at the gorgon regarding her,

"Why did you lose; I ask myself that question, or a variant of it, when someone defeats me as my friends often do. How did Melanie beat you – answer me." The reminder of her defeat stung worse than her bruises and both were less painful than her next admission,

"She, she used a spell I didn't see and disarmed me, and..."

"She was faster, stronger and more skilled in brawling than you are?" Vraska supplied helpfully, the elf looking away but, reluctantly, nodding as much as she was able to, "So how will you not lose next time?"

"I," Nissa's jaw worked soundlessly; never before had she been lectured like this, "I, get faster, and stronger, or use my casting?"

"That would be sensible; I'm going to let go now, do not attack me," the gorgon did so and, to Nissas' surprise, offered her back her spear, "you can use this better than me. We must find the others; I do not like the names Melanie gave us assuming they're friends of hers."

Her stave was a comforting weight, the sting of her humiliation dulling a little as Vraskas' words forced her to take stock almost against her will; beaten, but the lesser was more skilled in close-quarters – I, should not have fought her there. But she'd been so sure she would win, so certain she couldn't lose and reality had given her a slap in the face; she could have easily died by either Mels' blade or her hand if not for Vraska stepping in. She was so caught up by her realisation it wasn't until a hissing something passed almost under her chin she snapped back to reality, jumping and unable to stop the reflexive quiver,

"Apologies," there may have been a trice of bitterness in the chafing tone, "I assume you can track?"

"I can and, it is not you."

"What is not?" Nissa swallowed; she was not in the habit of divulging secrets to less... those who weren't elves,

"I was bitten, as a child, I've feared snakes ever since – I know you are not a snake but..."

"You are far from the first to assume that; later, we must move."

"Yes, this way; I hear something," despite Mels' attentions her hearing was as keen as ever, "it sounds like... I don't know the word. Humans use them to celebrate, loud explosions of colour."

"Fireworks, we have them on Ravnica. Lead on Revane, I will follow you."

"Nissa," even as she made to ask the shaman explained, "Revane is my tribe-name – call me Nissa. The noise is this way."

They ran through the forest, the noise getting louder with each step and though Vraska was so sluggish it forced her almost to a jogging pace Nissa didn't let the gorgon fall out of her sight. Though she was a witness to her defeat she wasn't the cause of it, nor had she gloated; she hadn't even asked for payment for, rescuing her. Slowing her pace to let the other being catch up Nissa felt the most pressing question weigh down on her until, as the continual bangs became loud enough to for even... for a human to hear, she dropped to the gorgons' shoulder and asked,

"Why did you step in; I have been, discourteous to you."

"All are equal in the Swarm; that is to say," though she'd been making progress under Chandras' guidance, as a new planeswalker Vraska sometimes forgot not everyone was familiar with Ravnica, "we all rot the same when the time comes. I know what it's like to be treated with scorn, as though I was nothing – it is not something I would wish on anyone."

"I, see; thank you"; the words came surprisingly easily, Nissa left reeling a little; she sounded almost, profound. Despite herself the elf felt a rush of, if not sympathy, then at least understanding towards the other planeswalker; when this was ended, she decided, she would talk more with the gorgon but, as they saw light ahead, she put that aside to focus on the explosions and other noises they could hear. Even at a distance she could see the trio of figures and, from the stiffness in Vraskas' posture and the hissing of her hair, she guessed the gorgon recognised the two she did not,

"Who are the others aside from Jace Beleren?"

"The woman defending him is Chandra Nalaar, my friend; the one she is fighting is Exava."

"You know her?"

"Only by reputation; she is a mad cultist of my plane who hates both of them. We have to help them, I think Jace is injured," that much Nissa agreed with; even humans weren't so foolish as to lie flat when people were throwing dangerous things at them, "Exava is not like Melanie, she will go for the kill. It would be unwise to get close, she is dangerous and those explosives would likely do much damage."

"Then we need a clean kill; your eyes, how far can you cast your gaze?"

"Not that far, and Chandra might be caught by it." Nissa thought for a moment before nodding; it would cost her pride but, as she had already learned in pain, this was a place they could ill-afford it,

"I have an idea; stay here and don't move or this enchantment will break..."

XXX

The earth screamed, he told it to be quiet as he funnelling more mana into the never-ending void levitating just above it. He could barely feel his hands, now sunk deep into the soft sod, hoping both someone friendly and no-one unfriendly heard his call; it was distasteful to ask for help but, given what might happen if he stopped the flow of mana, he could ill-afford to spurn it. Garruk enjoyed his simple life, matching his wits, skills and ferocity against the beasts he hunted, relishing either the kill or binding those he brought to bay. He was a hunter primarily, his use of mana generally restricted to maintaining control of the pack or strengthening his own formidable ferocity but nature was adaptable and thus so was he; and just as well. The stink of blood and corruption was still heavy on the air, the rot-woman was wracked from within by whatever their rival had done and suspended by the cushion of green he was channelling, the life-giving mana consumed by the blanket of darkness about her; without hunting the baloths I'd not know how to heal wounds, mine or others, and that would be the end of us both.

He'd had to keep an eye on both his opponent and his supposed pack-mate as the fight wore on, gut instinct suspecting she'd drown them both in the filth she drew her mana from if she could. However like him she'd had little chance to land a telling blow on the frustrating man; Garruk alone had landed half a dozen strikes that would have felled a stout tree but had somehow been blocked by a copper or steel bottom and he walked out of blizzards of shadow or ghostly green fire with little more than a wistful comment about how things had been different when he was a young man. However when the rot-woman had snapped, calling out a curse on his ancestors and family Timothy had stopped, his look chilling even a hunter like the Wildspeaker,

"My children and theirs eh? Not the first time you've threatened them," his whisper had been deadly and Garruk had paused, not wanting to risk attacking prey that could become potentially enraged, "it's time you learned what happens when you make promises you can't keep!"

Fending off Garruk with a thrown brace of ladles (if nothing else this hunt had taught him the effectiveness of improvised weapons, especially if aimed at the soft bits) he had rushed past him towards the rot-woman, white mana blinding him and neutralising her potent shadow protections. When he recovered his sight he'd expected to see something akin to the last time she had fought with the man, her power choked off by his binding but what had actually occurred was far more worrying. All was obscured by a cloud of dirt, Timothy stalking out of it after a few seconds and nodding at him,

"Do yourself a favour young man; walk away and don't look back." The elder had then followed his own advice, stalking away as Garruk watched on, wary of striking such a dangerous prey in the back and then alerted by the sudden change behind him. As before the runes of the woman were bleeding but this time the mana was beyond her control; before his eyes she was ageing, the dark mana sucking the life from her and instinctively, as he would for any of his pack, he counteracted it with the vitality of the earth, a vitality he was then forced to focus on completely as the hungry nothingness devoured it. It seemed insatiable and all Garruk could do was feed it more; if he stopped now he didn't want to think about what else it could consume in lieu of mana. He'd called for aid when he had the breath though nothing had answered until he heard rushing behind him and glanced over his shoulder, relieved as he recognised those approaching,

"Stay back," he barked in warning, "don't go near her."

"What happened?"

"Don't know," he grunted, sensing them coming closer, "it was the old man; she eats mana now. If I stop it will eat all."

"Damn it, and I can't channel with these arms"; explains the blood-smell; Garruk growled under his breath – knowing a problem didn't solve it, "it's those scribings; she's made dark pacts, at least two."

"Can you stop them?"

"Not without mana; Kiora what...?" Garruk heard quick, light footsteps and stilled his instinct to lash out as something came up on his blindside and squeezed under his arm. A voice talked hurriedly, its owner so small she could stand under his chest even as he knelt,

"What do I have to do?"

"Come back here!"

"It's the only way," the mergirl shouted back, resigning herself to a tongue-lashing later, "you need mana and he can heal you so you can get it – you can heal him right?"

"Yes"; I hope;

"You've not channelled like this before."

"I'll learn fast; what do I have to do Garruk?"

"Feel the earth," glancing down he saw two small webbed hands between his own, "you have it?" Remembering all she could of Gideons' lectures of how to link with mana Kiora breathed in and out, centring herself, feeling a grip beyond her hands reach through the soil to the life within. Gideon had said every planeswalker had their own way to best pull the energy they needed; his was through reciting mental prayers and teachings, hence the excessively long lists he knew and had her write down when she misbehaved and hers, she hoped, was just to bull through. She reached, phantasmal fingers feeling something and seizing it, the weight making her buckle almost at once; she had used the strength of the forests before to help Gideon and her find their way across Zendikar but never like this; it's like he's pulling up a mountain! How strong is he?;

"It's, heavy," she gasped, closing her eyes to concentrate better, "give me, a minute, then help him."

His answer was a grunt as she focussed, feeling more and more of the weight transfer to her as Garruk slowly withdrew his hands from the ground. When he eventually let of the mana completely she held her breath, feeling like her shoulders were being pulled for their sockets as she dredged the power up, her last request a moaning hiss as she felt his earth-shaking footsteps leave,

"Hurry..."

Gideon had already ripped the bandages away with his teeth, holding both arms out to the beastmage as he looked to the source of the corruption, eyes narrowed; no good comes from playing with the dark. He could see runes of binding and evil promise, likely a pledge of her soul if not worse, but there was little to be done for it now; gods forbid they might need the necromancer and even if they didn't Kiora had put herself in danger from whatever was tearing her apart,

"She's brave."

"Not the word I'd use," Gideon grated, seeing the mergirls' tail swish; she does that when she's afraid, or hurting – stupid, foolish girl! He was so caught up watching over her he barely noticed Garruk probing the scratch on his left hand with the tip of his tongue,

"Poison"; the green mage spat into his palm, placing it over the cut and concentrating, his other hand wrapping around half Gideon's arm, the heiromancer not reacting save for the faintest twitch as his broken muscle was reknitted. His focus was on the small, shivering back before him; it was a race between Garruk and his apprentice and, as the levitated woman began to descend slowly, the streamers of green mana bearing her aloft starting to thin, he feared it was a race they might lose.

It's so heavy, I can't – no, I can, I will; but determination didn't stop the ache, the feeling like her back was breaking; I mustn't let go, if I do... Gideon can't run fast enough. Just a second to rest then – no, no rest, if I drop it I'll never pick it up again and the lady might die. I can't let that happen; she forced herself to carry on but her grip over the mana was slipping, fatigue like sweat; I won't give in – the Roil couldn't claim me and neither will this! It's another storm, another temple – this mana-mountain won't stop me, waves break mountains and I'm the wave of Zendikar, I...

...I am the wave...

...Water, there's water in the earth or it'd be dust. Roll, flow, break the earth down – waves don't carry mountains, they build beaches from sand; she took in a punctured gasp, seeing home in her minds' eye, the pitch and spray of the sea and how it shaped the fractious plane. Concentrating hard she imagined the moisture in the soil, clear water to swim through, to play in; until it crashes, the wave will be, ever flowing, ever free. The snippet of memory came unbidden, the old rhyme of her mothers' let her imagine the ocean, focus on it, become it; under her urging the mana of the trapped water span over and over against the mana of the earth, breaking it down and letting her carry it to the surface pinch by pinch. The weight had lessened but it was still so hard, so heavy her head throbbed and she felt sick but a wave in motion couldn't be stopped; she was a finder of the temple of Ula and not all the stupid soil in all the Multiverse was going to beat her.

To save someone she barely knew Kiora of Zendikar; cursed child; Roil-spawn; survivor; planeswalker; whirled through the mana of the earth and water, and found a way.

Since his ascension Gideon Jura had searched for a moment, a single fleeting instant to match that of his sparks' ignition; he had been looking for the wrong thing. Now, as the necromancer bobbed gently on a tide of green and blue mana he knew at last why the man who had taught him had invested so much into preparing him for his gift; as his pupil reached beyond her limits Gideon's memories of his ignition were dimmed forever behind something else, an emotion much stronger. Garruk stepped back, throwing the ball of colourless goo his spell and spit had extracted from the dagger wound far into the distance and he stepped forwards, white mana flowing to him and the spell effortless in his mind.

Speaking clearly and intoning the runes without a pause the white mage stepped past his apprentice and faced the nihil without fear. Blazing with the strength of the plains he slashed the darkness with his whip, clearing a path to impress a small clay tablet on the woman's sternum, demanding her debts be held until later and by his command it was so. The hungry shroud shrank, new etchings scrawled on his tablet locking both her strength and her arrears in check, dissipating the lingering taint for now. After making sure the tablet wouldn't move he gingerly shifted the comatose woman off her blanket of mana, dried blood flaking from her now-unmarked skin as the tide receded. Looking away he glanced around at movement behind him, seeing Garruk approach guiding a much smaller, stumbling figure; Kiora seemed less than half-awake, barely noticing as he came forwards and thrust his burden out,

"Swap," he said stonily, a mite of command in his voice as Garruk regarded the witch with distaste. He eventually nodded, throwing her over a shoulder as Gideon fell to a knee, trembling arms encircling his neck as he pulled the mergirl close and lifted her off her feet,

"You," his voice cracked; he had to swallow and try again, "you are the most foolish, courageous and infuriating child I have ever met – you could have been torn in two! Why did you do that?"

"You'd have done it."

"I taught you too well," he breathed, skewered by his own code as he stood up, shifting Kioras' small weight enough to cradle her, "are you hurt?"

"My head, a bit," she murmured, curling up in his arms and holding the now-unmarked hand supporting her shoulder, his thumb caressing her cheek, "I'm tired but, we did it?"

"We did, you did; I have never been prouder of anything, or anyone, in my life than I am now." She looked away shyly as a shadow fell over them; Garruk with his passenger held in place by his axe. He regarded them both and smiled, reaching for his wrist and removing one of the charms hanging from it; safe, drowsy and with Gideon's steady heartbeat against her ear Kiora didn't move as the huge man placed it over her head, the little tooth on its thong fitting like a necklace,

"Grow strong small-claw," the Wildspeaker purred respectfully, "I, you and your father will hunt great prey one day." Gideon felt warm ice slosh down his backbone,

"She's, uh, we're..."

Whatever he wanted to say was lost as his burden shifted, Kiora revolved into him and he felt her shake, small hands grip his jerkin hard – he held her closer but dared not look down; if he did he would break and they couldn't afford that. Garruk's look could have filled a library and the hieromancer nodded, just once, before the Wildspeaker stiffened, looking over his head. Dropping behind the beastmage to keep Kiora out of danger Gideon saw his ally snatch something from the air, eyes widened as he caught a scent from it,

"One of the tall ones from the sky," he ripped it opened and scanned it, "a map – this way." Gideon knew better than to doubt the wild mage; out of all casters they were least likely to deceive; so pausing only to make sure he was holding the child; my child, blood be damned; safely he took off on Garruks' heels with Kiora in his arms recovering, a true wave no longer.

A wave was free until it crashed and, though neither of them had known it until now, the Wave of Zendikar had crashed upon Gideon Jura a long time ago.

XXX

Damn it, damn it, damn it – why am I always helpless?; he could feel the insidious spell knotted around his soul and body, cutting him off from the aether and making more than breathing impossible; why am I always watching others fight?

Logically he should be grateful Chandra was protecting him; emotionally it was worse than death. The psychotic Rakdos was lobbing bombs by the handful, Chandra's flames blowing them up in the air but the damned blood-witch seemed to have an endless supply. He wanted so desperately to tell her to run, leave him alone but he dared not upset her concentration, forced to watch her dance along a knife-edge; one mistake could be her last and that Jace couldn't countenance. Smoke was venting from her back and gloves as she kept pace with her mad opponent but if this pace kept up she'd either overheat or snuff out entirely and it would be over. Cursing himself the mind-mage tried to dislodge the ribbon of strange mana that bound him by force of will alone but it remained, cold, unyielding and inevitable as death, his only comfort a vow sworn as he watched the fire mage fight; Chandra had sworn she would make the Rakdos a memory if he was hurt – if the mad guilds' witch harmed her he would erase even that.

"You're warming up little sparkler," Exava crooned, tossing two explosives at once that her opponent met with twin spits of flame, "you'll see the living paper alight."

"Go to hell!"

"Been there, got bored, came back; Rakdos owed me a favour," she ran her tongue along her teeth, bloodying it as she prepared more explosives, "these should be fun for you. They explode into fir-hmm." She fell silent before leaping upwards, dropping the explosive into the jaws that opened beneath her and landing behind as the earth belched smoke, face a mask of fury,

"Who stopped my game, it was you wasn't it?" Jace couldn't see who she was addressing and took his chance, gritting his teeth against the flames of Chandras' mind as he exerted the only influence he could,

"Your armour's glowing – you need to cool down."

"Get out my head."

"No, you can't take her as you are."

"And we can't let her go – damn it Exava leave her alone – I'm the one you want!" Chandra made to follow the screeching witch as she ran away but then stopped; Jace saw her looking back at him and shamed curdled his stomach as he realised why; I can't defend myself. I'm pathetic; he couldn't even look away to hide his shame as her shins came closer, the firebrand looking all around to keep an eye out for danger. Misery roiling in his belly Jace was too busy castigating himself for neglecting his practise, something Chandra had warned him about so often, to hear the firebrand speak until she prodded him with her toe,

"What did she do to you?" It took him a second to focus, the red mages' mind still smouldering with concern as she watched something he couldn't see,

"I don't know, not felt anything like it. Who called the bitch off?

"The elf, Revane; she's making the floor stand up; get her, get, damn it she blew it up – get out of here you dumb knife-ear! She's going for the woods, I'll set them on, no," he would have jumped at her shout had he been able to, "Jace wait here!"

Take your time; the sour thought did little to distract him from his worry as Chandra's boots pounded away, clouds of dust flying behind her as she chased her foe. Suddenly she slewed to a halt and his breath hitched, fearing the worst,

"I don't... Vraska I'd kiss you if you weren't venomous!" Relief flooded through him at Chandra's cheering, though as she shouted praise after the friend he couldn't see she was too excited to hear him until he was all but telepathically yelling in her ear,

"What happened?"

"Vraska," the pyromaster declared breathlessly, running back to him and gabbling quickly, "she was a tree; well, pretending to be one. The elf fell over, Exava dived for her and the tree moved, grabbed her and as soon as she looked bang, got the bitch! Free cuddles on me next time we're plane-hunting!" Jace sagged in relief; one of them fallen and none of ours I know of hurt – that's a blessing but at what cost?;

"Chandra, Chandra," the tone of his mental voice stymied her celebrations somewhat, "if she has problems with, what she's done tell her to see me, no matter what I'm doing."

"What do you...oh," the offer quieted her grandstanding – as far as she knew Vraska had never used her deadly glare before, "I see what you mean Jace. Best do that now if we can, they're coming this way – hopefully Revane can undo whatever that bit... no, look out! Where is she, where the hell did they go?!"

"Who?"

"Revane was about to stick Exava and something exploded; not a bomb, just water I think. I saw someone, I'm sure of it, she grabbed the Rakdos and pulled her under – damn it we had her!"

"We still do unless they can undo Vraska's stare quickly and even if they can we know what she can do now, even she can't carry too many more explosives surely. Uh, Chandra?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you roll me over; there's a really sharp stone right under my chin. Yes, hilarious," judging by the chortling she certainly thought it was, "please, and thank you."

"For what, never said I'd do it; don't count your dragons and all that Jace."

"Not for that," he sighed, mental voice softening, "for saving me."

Her laughter died away and the mind-mage heard her come closer, felt a hand at his shoulder, then he was facing up, the light overhead partially blocked by the curtain of scarlet hair spiralling towards him as Chandra stared down, serious despite being smudged with soot,

"You'd have done the same," she stated with complete certainty, kneeling as his side while still keeping an eye out for danger, "so Liliana, Emmara, Auriea, Lavinia and now the Rakdos cultist; any other women I should know about throwing themselves at you? I can stay in a tavern if you need some private nights you know, it'll be very discreet." Sadly for the memory adept Exava's foul binding didn't extend to his blush response, Chandra snickering as with the danger gone and her mail plinking as it cooled down she had a little fun with her housemate while keeping an eye open,

"Oh come on, you must have known you'd get popular when you became the Guildpact; most powerful man in Ravnica, what girl wouldn't want you? Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase hammered by the law doesn't it?"

"Don't joke about Auriea, it was hard for her to admit that crush. I was sorry to see her go to the Selesnya but it was better for all concerned."

"Yeah, fewer youngsters to hear the law being laid down."

"This isn't fair, you're picking on a helpless man – I can't even cover my ears."

"Pretty sure it's not your ears they want to cover," she pointed out, Jace turning steadily more maroon as she refused to show mercy, "and just think, we can get hold of that von-whoever-he-was and get the sequel put away in record time. Your very own denouement series Jace, you'd be so proud."

"Don't forget who my first co-star was!"

"Eh, I'm not famous."

"Yet – I can make it happen Chandra; I am the Guildpact after all. Hey, quit that; I was joking."

"So am I," the fire mage said, tapping his forehead persistently as he glared up at her,

"That's really irritating."

"Thought it might be."

"You're not going to stop are you?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"As soon as I get my body and mana back and we're out of this mess I'm going to, to do something you'll regret!"

"Ohh, scary," she told him, prodding the tip of his nose instead, "tell me more Guildpact; what are your plans?"

"Getting more ominous with every tap," he promised darkly, relieved as she finally ceased and stood up, waving to someone he couldn't see,

"Hi Vraska, Revane, thanks for that; Exava's a real bitch. Wow, what happened to you, I thought you were walking funny."

"Just call me Nissa"; oh that's not fair; remembering the hoops he'd had to jump through to find out the shaman's name Jace could only fume as she gave it away freely, "our opponent was skilled hand-to-hand. What happened to Beleren?"

"Well he's a bit shy, doesn't get out the library much... she flashed him, fatal"; that's it – spiders, lots and lots of spiders; "can either of you break this sort of magic; I might crisp him by mistake."

"I can," Jace heard Vraskas' husking tone and the chafing of her scales, then felt a sudden spike of fear, "even mana rots."

By the time he thought his concern it was too late; a horrible fusion and green and black mana, life and death landed on his chest, sinking through his flesh like treacle. His only saving grace was that he couldn't cringe and accidentally offend the gorgon as her spell ate through the mana binding him; he could feel it loosen until with a rush it broke, Jace sitting up and half-coughing, half-belching out the residue,

"Urgh, that was worse than her tossed salad."

"You promised you'd never mention that!"

"No, I promised I'd never mention what you put in it," he clarified at Chandra's betrayed horror, recalling with a shudder the time she'd tried to surprise him and not realised what he'd hung around the kitchen to dry weren't vegetables but a selection of somewhat esoteric potion ingredients; still it was a surprise for the plumbing; "are you both all, oh," he cut off as he saw Nissa's face, "whoever did this will suffer for their slight against..."

"No," the elf held up a hand, grateful to have her spear back in it after leaving it with Vraska to make her fleeing-deer act a more alluring bait, "there's no honour here; we're all equal in this."

"Too right, equally hunted," Chandra bit in, "who was the girl who rescued Exava, one of them?"

"Her name is Melanie Vynsacher; she is a brawler but skilled with blue and green mana, she escaped us using the technique you just saw," Vraska explained, shooting Nissa a sidelong glance. The elf was confused for an instant then understood, another reason to be grateful to the gorgon as Jace stood up, his mind on the problem facing them,

"So her, Exava and that Timothy von Pomperduke; three casters, two of whom we've seen can use translocomotion magic. Not good news, there should be six of them in total if one wrote each book."

"Against thirteen of us; odds should be in our favour but," that word was all-important as the pyromancer scowled, "we're scattered and they know some of our spells. I would have turned the blood-witch to charcoal but she was immune to fire somehow, and how did she learn to cast mana, least of all from the plains."

"What?"

"You didn't know," Jace's horrified expression convinced her he didn't, "there was definitely a tinge of white in what you just got rid of, she shouldn't be able to weave that."

"No, it takes calm to hold it and she doesn't have any," despite having only been chased by the shrieking woman for a minute or so Nissa was confident that was true, "we need to find the others. Whoever these people are they've split us up for a reason."

"So let's undo that reason," Chandra declared, thinking and glad to have had a chance to cool down; but for their intervention she might well have been in serious trouble, "I know a few spells for finding things but they're not so good for people." Nissa smiled,

"Tracking is what I do; let me gather my mana."

"No need," the fourth member of their group cut in, Vraska having been facing away from them, "I have a map."

As she unfolded the small bird of paper the rest were already there, poring over it as Jace asked,

"Where did it come from?"

"It flew here on its own, from that way." Jace sagged in relief,

"Good, it must be from a blue mage; leave this to me, I should be able to see the mana stream and talk to them, find out what's going on."

"We can read upside-down," Nissa assured him and he sat back, sinking into a trance as he called on his mostly-untouched mana to see beyond the paper, back through the spell that had sent this small bird to the brush that had penned the small map, to the hand that had held the brush and the mind behind the hand, calmer and more patient than any humans but a mind nevertheless...

XXX

Tamiyo twitched, a movement so small none but a soratami would have seen it; that was strange, I thought I heard...;

"Hello," her eyes widened, "are you the map-maker?"

"Who are you?"

"Keep speaking, I hear your words through your own ears. My name is Jace Beleren from the council called by Liliana Vess – we have your map, it was sent to us as a flying bird. You use blue mana and drew the flight enchantment in an invisible mark on the bottom left corner of the parchment." Staying behind cover the Moon Sage let out a low breath – only one as adept as her with the strength of the sea would have been able to tell so much about her spell from a glance,

"I am Tamiyo; how many are you?"

"Tamiyo-san"; she quickly waved her fellow moonfolk quiet in time to hear his tenuous response,

"Four and we can all fight; our enemies have fled."

"We have a strong enemy coming, a blade master; he has already defeated his quarry. We are preparing to ambush him but another foe escaped, an assassin. Wait," her eyes widened, a thought occurring to her as she realised how he must have been communicating with her, "you are skilled with the mind?"

"Yes, why?"

"Focus your mana, as much as you can; Venser-san, Venser," the man stood over his injured friend, though reluctant to abandon his post, eventually came over at her insistence, "channel your mana. Jace-san, my friend will follow the thread connecting us, another here needs your aid."

"Tamiyo-san what...?" She quickly cut Venser off, holding her hand towards his glowing one,

"Do not argue, there is no time," she could feel the very thin thread connecting them to this hope fading with every heartbeat; her palm was small compared to the artificers but she channelled the contact to her friend, speaking as she did, "this voice belongs to Jace Beleren. We have to find him; he may be able to help Elspeth-san." The name of the broken knight focussed his mind sharply,

"He'll be found," he quickly sent his mana through the thread, tracking it to its source and nodding, "tell him to stand back, this is going to be loud." Tamiyo nodded, whispering to herself and closing her eyes as with a rumbling crack and a pulse of brightness he was gone.

Fortunately Jace managed to pass the message on just in time and the artificer arrived to find a spear poking him in the belly rather than spearing through it. Slowing down his palpitating heart he nodded at the elf who'd almost disembowelled him as the redheaded woman appraising him whistled lowly,

"Neat trick."

"Thanks – Jace Beleren I assume?"

"Yes," the Ravnican said shortly, recovering from the long-range telepathic conversation, "what's happening; your friend said someone was injured."

"She is, in her mind and the one who harmed her is closing in on us. He's powerful and he knows things, and the nezumi bastard's likely still after us too."

"Nezumi?"

"Half-rat, half-man and a lot more dangerous than he looks, keep your eyes on the shadows," Venser said warningly, satisfying Vraskas' curiosity as he gathered himself again; one more jump will likely be my limit – I have to make it count for Elspeths' sake!; " sorry but we need you now Jace, my friend is suffering."

"Take me as well," Chandra said suddenly, "can you do that?" Venser did some calculations and nodded, bracing himself,

"It'll be all I can do but yes." The pyromaster nodded, looking at the map again,

"Vras, Nissa find the other groups; shouldn't be too hard, Gideon's got feet like an elephant. The more of us there are together the less chance they'll have to pick us off." Nissa was already concentrating, the grass about her feet swaying as the gorgon nodded for them both,

"We'll see it done; be careful Chandra, Jace."

"I'm always careful," the firebrand said jokingly, though she met the symbiote her friend offered forwards with her cheek, a sincere farewell amongst Vraska's kind, "look after yourselves, we will get through this."

"We will," the gorgon echoed, looking away as the shaman's eyes opened and she indicated a direction with her spear,

"That way, though they're running into trouble."

"That'd be Jura all right – ready ah, Vensar?"

"Yes, sorry if this jolts."

They vanished in a clap of thunder, the light of the teleportation illuminating the other two running towards the rest of the scattered planeswalkers, ready to lend spear and gaze to whatever battles lay ahead.