Part 13

A Time Honored Tradition

And now, an unconscious Yataeso lied before them.

"Is he… dead?"

"No, he's just sleeping, right?"

"I… look, blood. He must be passed out."

"How?" Denitt asked.

"We can ask him when he wakes up."

Yataeso's robes covered up the stone, the ruby of unimaginable power, in his hand.

No one could see it; the chain wrapped firmly around his arm.

"Let's pick him up. This is… unusual."

"Wasn't he supposed to be on Ravnica, causing trouble?"

"Couldn't say."

The drunken sage, Tagam, reached his arms underneath Yataeso, as did Kuesh and Denitt. "So, what's 'is name then?"

They lifted upward.

"Yataeso, but you-"

Tagam shouted- the hood had come off of Yataeso, revealing his long ears and blue skin. "He must be damn near frozen!" Some measure of sobriety had shocked its way into him. "Or suff'cating!" But not enough.

"Don't mind that," Kuesh said, straining. "That's just what he looks like."

"That's just what he looks like? A damn elemental snowman off the Highspires?"

"Well…"

Tagam sighed. "You know, you really don't make a lot of sense."

"Something I've picked up in my travels."

Denitt looked between the two. He wanted to go somewhere new, to see all of the worlds of the Multiverse. Something to get away from the last several days.

Suddenly Yataeso sputtered to life. "Jelika!" He flailed his arms, and the trio struggled to hold onto him. "Where is she!?" He looked around in rage and fear.

Somewhere else, far away on Tarkir, a man appeared out of thin air. His flowing red cape betrayed his nature of otherworldliness. But he was not here to speak to locals regardless. One of his Chains had been activated. He had to find out who had done it.

The mountain around him was covered in snow and refuse. A small stone pillar, a monument tied around with red ribbon, a commemoration of an ancient battle.

The snow crunched as Bolas walked to it. How strange it was. He hadn't been here in so long. He hadn't needed to- his pawns here were already in place. He sighed and touched the pillar. It crumbled into black and finally to dust. He walked onward down a trail inlaid in the mountain. His mountain.

The trail seemed so long, but it was only a few moment's time before he reached its end- a village. A great palace laid at the end, rising upward in glorious fashion. This was the place his pawn resided- he knew that much. A tendril of aether only Nicol could see came downward and reached him. It floated there lazily, and in it Bolas saw the face of an old man, divining an ancient evil that had come to the village- him.

Yataeso had fallen over and was in the process of thrashing out at nothing. Kuesh had diagnosed his symptom's cause- a nasty blow to the back of the head. The sage Tagam, for his part, had fallen over, clutching his own head.

Denitt watched the divining process firsthand.

"An ancient evil!"

The few people on the street- including those from Tagam's own clan, turned their heads in worry.

"A dragon of immense power! More than all the dragonlords combined!" Tagam continued.

"Father!" Tagam's son had just burst forward from one a building marked "Suret's Tavern".

Tagam grasped for his son, catching onto his massive coat.

"Listen to me, there is a great being here, one from other worlds-"

And here Kuesh audibly gasped. He turned to Denitt before Tagam said another word. "We need to leave, immediately."

Denitt arched a brow. "Leave this vill-"

"The plane. Meet me back at Hopestream."

"Okay."

There was a flash, and there Kuesh stood.

"Uh- Hopestream, right?" Denitt asked. Kuesh hadn't gone anywhere.

"I don't understand," he said.

Tagam continued to shout louder and louder. Kuesh turned his head.

"Evil, evil, it has set its foot here, taking the form of a mere mortal! A king of deceit!"

"We'll figure this out later. We need him on his feet." Kuesh pointed to Tagam.

Another flash. A vampire stepped out of a cloud of vapors to find a world of forest and mountain. He looked around. He was at the summit of an impossibly high steppe. Behind him stretched a snowy plane. In front of him was the cusp of a valley, and below was a village, which, upon a short bloodseeking revealed at least a few thousand inhabitants.

Vurastas walked off the summit, sliding down part of the mountain until he reached another ledge. He scanned the village for anyone. He pulled an etherium flash out of his pocket. He flipped the cap and took a swig of the blood within. By the time he recapped it, he had already found his target- Kuesh and Denitt in the valley below. He had to report this to Hopestream. It was important that Kuesh and Denitt didn't know he had been there.

But when he planeswalked, there was the flash, but he arrived in the exact same place. He tried to planeswalk to Alara. The same happened. Ravnica. Nothing. Innistrad, then. And then it hit him why he couldn't planeswalk.

The caravan began to move. It had only taken a few minutes for the sage's son to gather the rest of the clan.

Kuesh's face had flushed as he began walking.

Denitt looked at him."You're nervous, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Denitt tried to read Kuesh's face, but it betrayed nothing but fear.

"Because Nicol Bolas is here. He is the ancient evil Tagam speaks of."

"How could you possibly know that though? It could-"

Kuesh turned to Denitt. They both stopped. Kuesh lowered his voice. "Certainly, you remember when we arrived on Zendikar.

Denitt nodded, and recognition hit him. "One of those ruby crystals is stopping us from leaving."

"Yes." Kuesh sighed as the caravan entered a forested area.

One of the women up ahead shouted,"ENTERING INTO SULTAI LANDS!" Some of the warriors grumbled.

"We're trapped with one of- if not the- most powerful being in the Multiverse. One that could rend your soul with a single gaze, a single spoken word. Something that has spent its entire existence curating every terrible spell and contortion of the body and aether that exists."

Denitt was silent for a moment contemplating what Kuesh had said. "How-" he said, interrupting his own reticence,"can you hope to defeat a being like that?"

"We haven't been, Dennit. We've kept him silent, working in the wings. He has not been able to work directly on the planes because we are there in greater number. The problem is… the problem is that he doesn't have to work in violence, not with his own hands or mind, anyway. He works in secrecy. He has become much more difficult to track since Sarkhan took away his dragonform. He may be less powerful, but we can't tell where he is on a plane."

"You can track which plane that we walk to?"

"A long time ago a planeswalker named Ral Zarek created a way for his guild on Ravnica to track the going-ins and coming-outs of all otherworldly creatures. His research hit a very major snag, but it's survived. He actually joined one of our Hideouts back in their earliest days, the Firescrolls."

"The Firescrolls?"

The trail narrowed and the caravan had slowed to a crawl.

"Yes, they are composed of followers of red and blue mana. Fiercely intelligent, dangerously impulsi-"

Shouts came from up ahead, and it only took a few moments for news of what had happened to reach the back- there was death ahead, but the caravan was not going to stop for it.

A sage who was not Tagam stood atop a cart loaded with weapons- swords, pikes, and strangely enough, even clubs. The sage yelled to all who would listen.

"Those who follow Silumgar, who detest freedom and hope- villains- lie ahead. Warriors come to ready yourselves, your brethren die so that you may avenge them!"

An incredible shout rose from the surrounding people, and several different creatures began to move around others toward the front- a few humans, an ogre which Denitt had not even noticed, and even an elephant warrior pulling along what Denitt assumed to be their companion- a massive bear that looked more accustomed to eating entire herds of deer that being led on a rope.

"Is this something that we should be worried about?"

"I doubt it. But Bolas will be hot on our tail. It would be best to move forward."

"Into the fray?" Denitt hadn't yet been in combat- and he didn't exactly desire to.

"Whatever it might take to stay away from the Elder."

Vurastas reached down and felt the earth. He had to find Denitt. He had to protect the prophecies. At any cost, as Venser had said.

Venser had demanded that the boy had to be protected. The child had never participated in violence, but that was going to change soon. He was going to have agency over his actions. He had to be on the side of good.

His hand sifted through the rocks of the trail.

He had to destroy that ruby.

He had to find… Denitt. A heartbeat, and Vurastas took off running.

"Take a weapon!"

"ARRGGH! Stay away undead swine!"

"Now now!"

"Do not flee, warrior! Stand and fight!"

The sounds of battle and those of people forcing their way into battle were becoming so mixed that Denitt, wielding a dagger and heirloom-like shield, could not tell them apart. He steadied his hand, but it wouldn't stop shaking. Was he destined to take a life? Did he have to?

"Denitt, whatever happens here, remember the goal. Stay away from Nicol Bolas. Stay safe." And then he paused and looked down. "And if you have to kill to survive, just… know that these people are not worth treating with compassion."

But weren't they?

A massive wall of a man walked past, seven feet tall and wielding a sword that could have been a beam in a Ravnican skyscraper. He swung it with a desperate ferocity. A woman sprinted past, gliding around corpses and zombies and their handlers like wind. And another, a hooded mage wielding fire, blasting apart all who stood in their way.

And Denitt looked down to his dagger. Kuesh held his hand in front of Denitt and unsheathed his own weapon- a gnarled and rusted sai. He twirled its clothed hilt around proficiently. "A gift from an old friend."

And he charged into the fray, stabbing and slashing. A zombie with golden chains around a stump that had once likely been a head fell to the ground. Even though the undead looked so decayed that a strong gust of wing should have shattered their remains in a hundred different directions, they stood against some warriors. The wall of a man from before had suffered great injuries- he had a finger torn from his left hand, and a savage bite mark had been etched into one leg. Still he beat the limbs from their owners, living and dead alike.

A masked assassin twirled his blade hungrily from atop a wagon. He surveyed the scene before him, and Denitt seemed to be the only one who noticed him. The assassin turned his eyes to Denitt and saw an easy score- something to warm up. He lept off the top of his perch and spun around in the air, not for any practical reason, Denitt determined, but just because the assassin probably thought it looked cool.

He hit the ground only a few feet from Denitt and straightened up. He smiled a near-perfect smile- the features of a grizzled man with beard and scars and a broken front tooth. Denitt raised his shield against this person who by all rights should have been a decent sort.

Kuesh was off slicing into several mages who were casting dark magics all around, trying to hit Kuesh even as he kicked their arms away.

This was something Denitt supposed he would have to do alone.

Clouds were beginning to swell overhead, and a couple drops reached the ground. Denitt raised his dagger, but the assassin simply laughed.

"Put down your sword and accept a quick death," the man mused.

"N-no." Denitt stood uncertainly and plotted his feet back and forth.

"N-n-n-NO!" the assassin mocked. He laughed again, but this time it was cut short by his rushing forward.

Denitt raised his shield, and the assassin's dagger bounced off lazily. The man didn't stagger at all, but repositioned a second later and struck again, a hit that Denitt barely parried.

"Let's see how you do this then!"

The assassin kicked towards Denitt's feet, sweeping him sideways. Denitt hit the ground hard. The injuries he had sustained at the Jeskai monastery stung once more.

The assassin dashed and lept again, spinning, and landing in front of Denitt, dagger already coming down.

Denitt raised the shield- the dagger did not hit, but debris flew everywhere. Denitt's shield had shattered. The assassin stepped back, preparing to strike again, laughing once more.

Denitt rolled over in pain, and noticed Yataeso on his feet standing closeby at the caravan. The assassin had not even registered the moonfolk.

A flash in Denitt's vision. The assassin lunged but did not hit any targets this time. A fine dust layered Denitt, clumps peppering his face.

Yataeso had his arms splayed before him. Redness covered them, soot falling away. He had burned the assassin.

Denitt rose to his feet almost immediately. "I didn't expect that out of someone like you!" He smiled though his legs were betraying him with every second he kept on them.

Yataeso looked down at his hands in horror. "I should not have This shouldn't have happened."

Then- the darkest laugh Denitt had heard in a week- a sinister chuckle coming from the treelines.

Denitt looked to notice even Kuesh stopping. The mentor looked back at the trees and was caught in the foot by a zombie's club. Kuesh doubled over and shouted something that Denitt could not hear.

Fire shot through the trees, enveloping all but three. People fell over in pain, some immolated, others barely clutching life. Zombies ran aimlessly around, moaning something as they fell over, dead again.

The caravan and its assailants both stopped to see who had committed this atrocity. People gathering over a chasm filled by silence with Kuesh, Denitt and Yataeso in its middle.

The sinister laugh again.

"By this point you might think this was a time honored tradition, you three."

A man robed in gold and red stepped out of the groves. He was jovial, but something was so obviously off. His eyes betrayed a hateful glint.

Yataeso looked at Nicol Bolas.

"I see you've made use of my stone, hm? I'd very much like it back."

"What is he talking about," Denitt asked, stepping back.

"Nothing to concern you, Denitt," Yataeso said.

"Well, Denitt. We meet again." Bolas turned his cold smile on the boy. "It's a shame this will be the last. I saw potential in you, even if you seem so determined to squander it on such simple minds."

Kuesh stepped forward. "You'll not be touching him, Bolas."

"Ah, the man of metal, the prodigy of the Ruins! Were you not one of the people that searched near Tolaria West for all those ancient spells?"

"We've met, Bolas. Don't pretend we don't know each other."

"Hm. Fair enough." Bolas looked ferocious. His hand lit up in flame. His whole arm. His torso. His whole body, Bolas's entire being had become a conduit for heat. "Let's make this quick then!" His voice echoed and he raised his hand. A slow serpent of fire sprang forth and prepared to strike, coiling back. Kuesh's hand flared blue, preparing to twist the flame to nothing.

If struck, and Kuesh raised his hand. The fire hit a shield of light and dispersed.

So began a sparring match as Yataeso and Denitt looked on. The two traded blows of fire and counterfire.

Denitt noticed Yataeso fiddling with something in his cloak. It looked like some kind of trinket, a watch of some sort, perhaps. But it appeared to be a stone. He looked closer and closer, until the robes fell away, and Denitt say the outline of the object- a stone necklace with a ruby inlaid in the middle. Yataeso was turning it over and over in his hand.

Denitt paused, reeling back- he had just seen through matter. He stumbled and fell backward, his mind spinning in confusion. Flames passed by, and there was shouting. Yataeso came to Denitt's side and yanked him back on his feet.

It was likely that the entire plane could see the duel. Vurastas ran to the canyon, the trail below. Even though the snow had long since passed, the chill bit at his chin. He could still feel temperature, something most of his kind could not. It was the damned rain, no, sleet. Almost snow but not quite eating at him. He pulled his coat further together, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Flaming spirals went upward further and further. Scavenging birds travelled to it regardless, meaning the dead certainly littered the dirt there.

Vurastas drew his channeler, an ancient weapon that they didn't make anymore. He leapt as high as he could, barely maintaining flight. He was gliding towards the ground, but at least he was travelling faster. The two sides were almost in sight.

"Give him to me! Death to you!" Bolas unleashed one barrage after another and it was clear that Kuesh was not going to win. Why wasn't Yataeso helping?

"He… he's going to d-die!" Denitt stammered out.

Yataeso looked down. "Then it will be. I'm not here for him."

Yataeso took the rock out of his pocket.

"When I press this button," the moonfolk said," leave this place."

"Where are you going? Doesn't Hopestream need you?"

"I don't need them anymore."

The ruby began to light up. Denitt looked back to Kuesh, who was falling to his knees at every exertion and channeling of mana.

Bolas cackled. "Old man."

"Not as old as you, slaver."

"Ha, slaver. That's an old one. I've upped my game. I don't take people anymore. I take worlds. You remember Amonkhet? Those… those were great times. Great stories to tell. They were so desperate for gods, so I gave them some. Maybe the same could happen here?"

Bolas stood over Kuesh, not even paying attention to Denitt or Yataeso. The dragon-man's hands lit up again, and he pointed them over Kuesh.

Denitt was helpless to stop it. He could only look away with a tear in his eye.

"Denitt, Kuesh is not going to die. Take these." He pulled a wad of parchment out of his robes that had been scrawled over by several different people. "Tell Kuesh not to come looking for me. Tell Hopestream not to come looking for me."

The ruby clicked, and Yataeso seemed to look deeply into something, and there was a great shimmer. He disappeared.

"LET THIS-" Denitt turned back- "BE. YOUR. LESSON!" An incredible blaze built up above all the heads of everyone watching. If began to fall, dozens of feet reaching terminal velocity- or at least as fast as fire could fall.

And then a great glimmer of light, an arc of light, sailed across the trail and intercepted the fire. The ball split into thousands of little shards that stopped in mid air, flying out like shrapnel, mirrors of heat. Bolas stared around. A vampire stood on a mountain above, the fading sun illuminating him.

"It's a good thing you're tuckered out, sir." The vampire lept down and hit the ground with a painless thump.

The vampire raised a rod of steel tipped in sapphire. "Run."

Bolas looked horrified, and shimmered too. He was gone.

The fire shrapnel fell to the darkening ground, little balls of heat in a freezing landscape.