Kaldros flew through the air, ignoring the cold and looking down at the mass of colourful auras that made up Sarashak – he couldn't see his twin's familiar Red glow, but as he focussed past the distracting glows and saw deeper into the city, he could see an undertone of absolute darkness swallowing everything, like Sarashak was plunging into a black abyss from which there was no escape. Kaldros concluded that Jakhan must be at the heart of it, and so located the point where the darkness was the thickest, and plunged down from the sky towards it.
He could see small blotches of White mana being pressed back by the Black – some of the Abzan must have become aware of the canker under the city, but it would take far too long for the unstoppable clan to react fully, and they wouldn't have the numbers to combat the unknown threat alone. Kaldros landed next to a sewer grate in a back-alleyway, cracking the ancient stone as protective White mana absorbed the impact of his fall. A few street urchins scampered away from him, but apart from them the alley was unoccupied and quiet.
Kaldros waited for a moment as the presence he felt caught up with him. Meja leapt from a nearby rooftop and gracefully landed next to the albino, breathing heavily but otherwise not tired by his journey across the city. Kaldros admired the Jeskai's endurance, wondering just how much the Mardu could learn if they were not so blinded by their unrelenting need for warfare.
"Can you feel that, Meja?" he inquired, gesturing towards the grate and moving to take it off, reserving his magic for the inevitable battle that Jakhan must have got himself into. The Jeskai grabbed hold of it as well, and together they hauled the rusting metal clear.
"It's the Sultai," Meja replied, closing his eyes and sensing the cloying blackness emanating from the undercity, Kaldros looking back confused.
"There are Sultai here? I'd always assumed that they stuck to their jungles thanks to the stories the older warriors used to tell us about them."
"They have always been a part of Sarashak, occupying the lowest layers and supplying a workforce of undead to extend the construction of the undercity, while their Panjasi traders dazzle the noble families of the city with huge amounts of wealth and potential pleasures," his voice took on a tone of disgust as Meja continued, "Master Shintan and some of the other Jeskai have often objected to the fact that they have influence here, constantly warning the stupid council about the dangers of the Sultai,"
"It sounds like the council are being manipulated by the prospect of wealth," Kaldros mused, dreading the thought of having to go into the tunnels. The mage was quite claustrophobic, but it was more than that – the darkness would blind him, clogging his magical vision which had just been restored.
"We have to rescue Arethe and Jakhan!" Meja declared, and swung into the tunnels, jumping down the grate and ignoring the rungs that should be used to climb down. Kaldros hesitated for a few seconds, knowing that it was certainly a trap but thinking that there was no other way to save the two and stop the mysterious darkness from spreading. He leapt down after the impetuous Jeskai.
.*.*.*.
Zurgo eyed the fallen challenger with contempt, the last in a long line that wanted the position of Khan for themselves. The orc had professed that Zurgo had no right to rule the clan after his failure against the Temur, and challenged the terrifying ruler to single combat. It had taken one blow to crush the upstart. He knelt down next to the disembowelled challenger and decapitated him, his large, unnamed blade slicing through the tendons of the orc's neck. Zurgo ripped the head free and roared at the crowd that had gathered to watch the duel, or more aptly, the slaughter.
The white orc pushed the head onto a pike next to his gargantuan throne, where it joined many other skulls that had shared the same fate – quite a few were recent additions that were still in the midst of decomposition. The Khan's rage was obvious to see, the orc being the third challenger since the battle against the Temur. There were rumours of a cult springing up in his clan – they called themselves the Three Butchers and paid homage to the young softheel that had saved them on the battlefield.
Zurgo had personally led parties of loyal warriors to eliminate these dissenters, but every time he slaughtered a group of them more would spring up, like a many-headed hydra that just refused to stay dead. He sat down on his dragon-skull throne, focussing his rage and thinking of how to deal with the cult, when a breathless scout ran past his guards and straight towards him. One of the warriors pulled back his bow, an arrow notched, but Zurgo held his hand up, eager to hear what the runner had to say.
"My Khan!" he shouted, kneeling before the orc and panting for breath – he was only young, probably only recently earning his War-name.
"The Sultai invade us! Endless armies of zombies come from the west. We have already lost several outposts, and Screamreach has also been captured!"
Zurgo absorbed the information silently, and replied with: "You survived a battle,"
"Yes, my lord," the messenger answered, "I was at Screamreach. We were overwhelmed by a tide of undead led by a monstrous brute that could kill ogres in one hit,"
"You being here means that you fled the battle," Zurgo announced grimly, putting on a show of anger whilst in reality he was delighted with the turn of events.
"Yes, I left so that I could warn you of-" the scout was cut off when the orc slashed his blade into his chest, eviscerating the youth.
"Mardu do not flee!" the Khan roared, loud enough that Azal had to cover his ears to prevent being deafened by the bellow. "Muster the army. We take the fight to them!" he shouted, holding his bloody sword above him.
So Sidisi has finally made her move, Azal thought.
.*.*.*.
Vasjai slithered through the tunnels, followed by his staggering undead sibsig that carried the two repulsive humans deeper into the sewers. He had enjoyed humiliating the Mardu brat, and while his hatred of the creatures was not as deep as his sister Ethlashi's, the naga still felt great pleasure in causing them pain.
After a few minutes of progressing through the dark tunnels, Vasjai had brought the humans to their destination: a deep pit that surrounded a huge necropolis that had been there before the collapse of the ancient Sultai empire – a reminder of their power in ancient times, when the clans were all ruled under one banner. What Vasjai was doing here was one of the many schemes that would help restore the Sultai's rightful dominion over Tarkir.
The naga slid past hulking reanimated ogres that were covered in gold chains, ignoring their blank stares as the undead recognised their master. The interior of the necropolis comprised of two halves – the first were modelled like the pleasure palace of Qarsi, with most of it built upon prehistoric waterways that had always existed underneath Sarashak – the city itself was founded upon a bygone dominion of the imperial Sultai. This half of the territory entertained intoxicated noble guests of the council families in dazzling treasure cruises – they were blissfully unaware of the place's significance.
It was covered in tropical plants that were cultivated through unnatural means, as the climate of the place was not normally hot enough to sustain such organisms. Vasjai passed massive excavations filled with bloated crocodiles, the dead reptiles snapping their powerful jaws as they sensed the living flesh being carried past them.
"Soon, my pretties, soon you will feed," the naga soothed, his sibilant voice calming the eternally ravenous creatures. He continued through the decadent and opulent first half of the palace and moved into the second, more sinister section. While the part of Sultai territory in Sarashak that was open to the public was an imitation of Qarsi Palace, the second was more like the Ukud Necropolis – this was the domain of the necromancers and far worse.
Vasjai entered a central cavern that contained a large brown ziggurat surrounded by chanting figures wearing in dark robes and swathed in dark magic. The naga paid no attention to the humans and grabbed his two captives off of his decrepit retinue who slunk back into the shadows, awaiting further insturctions.
The Sultai dragged the youths up to the summit of the ziggurat on his own, feeling a slight sensation of fear as he reached the central dais. Sat on a golden throne surrounded by a cascade of glittering coins, the unfathomably evil rakshasa named Khemet purred at Vasjai's arrival. The cat-demon had white fur that was occasionally striped with black, and wore archaic and ostentatious golden plate that covered his furred body. He had a matching helm that had two holes that left the huge curling horns of Khemet unobstructed. The rakshasa's eyes were piercing slits of cruelty that had seen the extinction of civilisations and thoroughly enjoyed it.
"Ah, my dear Vasjai, you have brought the captives," he murmured, his deep voice alluring but also full of murderous potential, and although the naga and demons had been allies for many years, Vasjai was still put on edge by Khemet's presence.
"Yes," he hissed, "This is only the beginning, but soon the Sultai empire will be restored!"
Jakhan woke with a start, thrashing in the iron grip of the naga – Khemet laughed, the hideous sound splitting the air with a mixture of malice and temptation that hurt and seduced Jakhan in the same instant.
"Go, Vasjai, muster the legions and see to the coming Abzan. I will tend our current and future guests," Khemet commanded, and the naga dumped the humans on the floor of the dais and slithered away, glaring maliciously at the Mardu warrior.
Jakhan could barely move as the cat demon slowly pace towards him, the overwhelming sweet scent of the being filling his mind with visions – unlike the Butcher's brutish images of violence that spoke to his inner anger, the rakshasa's aura showed Jakhan dreams that reflected his ambition. He shook off the images of conquest and glory, spitting: "I know of your kind, demon. I will not fall prey to your seductions and lies!"
"Oh?" purred Khemet, "I wasn't even trying. I couldn't be less interested in you – you are simply a tool that I will use to entice my true prize." The demonic feline looked upwards and laughed: "He should be here very soon. I can feel his power,"
.*.*.*.
Meja suddenly stopped running, and Kaldros bumped into him, confused as to why the Jeskai had halted.
"Why-" his question was muffled as the older boy quickly placed one hand around the albino's mouth and the other putting a finger to his own lips.
"Shush," he whispered, pointing towards a group of undead led by a muscular human that shouted impatiently at the staggering corpses in a section of the sewers below them. He released Kaldros, and pulled out a strange ribbon-like piece of fabric.
"I will attack from the front, and then you can follow up when they are distracted-" Meja blinked in surprise as Kaldros leapt down from their vantage point and into the midst of the attackers.
The young boy released a blast of incandescent flame that the Jeskai student recognised as being a mixture of soul- and bloodfire and incinerated the Sultai undead. The human raised a shield of counter-magic that deflected some of the blistering inferno, and was about to fire a missile of poisonous energy at the Mardu, but was interrupted when Meja's cloth-blade arced down into him, gracefully slicing through the offending arm. He whipped it back across the Sultai's face before he had even landed, the weapon killing the man almost instantly. The second Meja landed, the explosion of blood from his two strikes erupted from the man, and he elegantly sheathed the weapon before grabbing Kaldros.
"That was incredibly reckless," he admonished, trying and failing to sound stern when in actual fact he was awed at the speed of the magic, and the younger boy smiled back at him.
"We have no time to waste. Besides, I knew you would back me up," Kaldros replied, swiftly turning and shooting off down the tunnel. Now that he was in the miasma of darkness that clogged his magical sight, the young mage couldn't sense anything but the location of his twin, which he set off towards. Kaldros felt incredibly vulnerable in his half-naked state, and wished that he had taken the time to put some more clothes on before impetuously setting off.
Meja ran to catch up with him, quickly outpacing the smaller teen and skidding round a corner. He could hear the echoing sound of battle unfolding, shouted war-cries coupling with the clash of blades and the moaning of the dead. The Jeskai ran into a gigantic passageway, and at the end of it a large engagement was taking place.
He could see phalanxes of scale-armoured warriors clashing with a mass of writhing sibsig backed up by howling apes that swung from the pipes and into the fray. In the centre of the battle, a human mage that summoned ancestor spirits duelled with an emerald naga wielding a heavily-enchanted golden bow. The Abzan were slowly being overwhelmed by the unrelenting tide of dead, and Meja yanked Kaldros back to him as the young mage ran past, shouting: "We have to help them!"
Kaldros shook his head grimly, and Meja's mouth gaped open in shock. It was anathema for Jeskai to leave anyone in need of help, and Meja was surprised at the young mage's abject lack of compassion.
"Feel free to stop and help them, but I have to save Jakhan, I can't be delayed any more," Kaldros replied urgently, shaking off the Jeskai who placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"May the Eye guide you," he intoned, making the symbol above the Mardu's forehead with his hand. Kaldros grinned back, making a pair of wings with outstretched palms.
"May the Wings carry you to safety," he replied, and turned around without another word, running down a side passageway and bypassing the desperate engagement. Meja shook his head dolefully, sad at the fact he had to leave the young mage on his own, and leapt into the battle.