Nemesis

CHAPTER 18

Ertai had to give Crovax credit. The man was a remorseless killer, but he did have a certain amount of cold-blooded style. Ertai was feeling generous as he waited to die.

He was imbedded up to his neck in a cube of flowstone eight feet wide. At the rear of the cube a thin pipe stretched back to one of the main flowstone conduits. Little by little, the cube was growing larger, and therein lay Crovax's wicked genius: the cube was balanced atop the flowstone furnace. An endless blue torrent of energy plunged into the crucible, meeting the raw lava rock brought up from below the Citadel. When Crovax and his minions placed him here, Ertai had been at least twelve inches from the edge of the furnace cone. In the past four hours the cube had grown at least eight inches per side. In another six or seven hours the cube would be so large the narrow ledge could not support it. He would topple forward into the works and be disintegrated by the furious energy beam.

It took Crovax only minutes to create the cube. He mentally programmed the nano-machines to retain their shape as the cube grew, and thoughtfully provided Ertai with a cavity in the cube sized exactly to his body. Once the sergeants shifted the cube in place atop the crucible, Crovax stood back and watched for several minutes.

The flowstone also absorbed radiant heat from the energy beam and got hotter all the time.

"Isn't this all a bit too elaborate?" Ertai said.

"Would you tell an artist his painting was too elaborate?" replied Crovax.

"If need be."

"You have no sensitivity, Boy. The beauty of this arrangement is its slowness. You have half a day to contemplate your end. I hope you use it wisely."

"Why kill me at all? I'm no threat to you. I can't even get out of this cube, much less challenge your command of Rath."

"You really do miss the point. You've been an annoyance to me and therefore deserve to die. Also, because of your close ties to the emissary, killing you should be very painful for her."

Ertai called Crovax all the dirty names he had in his considerable vocabulary. Crovax responded by tightening the flow-stone around Ertai's throat until his tongue protruded and his face turned blue. Then, just as suddenly, he relented.

"I'd love to stay and play, but I'm being crowned today," he said. "Duty before pleasure, as they say."

He descended the steps to where his private guard was waiting and never looked back.

Ertai tried to influence the flowstone enough to allow him to escape. He expanded the space around his body slightly, at the expense of enlarging the cube prematurely. It was like wrestling inside a block of cheese. When he concentrated, the stone closest to him softened, but he couldn't influence the outer bulk of the cube. The effort left him gasping, and the growing heat wrung sweat from his every pore.

What a fool he was to agree to this sham. He was a wizard, not a politician or a warlord. All his grandiose plans to escape or become evincar of Rath were the consequences of overweening pride. Now he was paying the price of his folly.

His eyes started to swell shut. He guessed this was from being so close to the blazing energy beam. Such promise, such talent he had. All wasted on this ugly, colorless world, ruled by ugly, colorless people. Was this the ultimate fate of Dominaria, should the Phyrexian invasion succeed? If so, he was glad he would not be alive to see it.

There was Belbe. Why did he care about her? He tried to tell himself he'd seduced her, that his motives were only self-serving. Looking back on it, those hours he spent with her were not just the best ones he'd had on Rath but maybe the best he'd known in his entire short life. He didn't seduce her-he was the one seduced. For the first time Ertai found a woman who didn't ignore him or reject him for his thundering arrogance.

The hole at his neck was just large enough for Ertai to poke a few fingers out. Despite his best efforts, he found he couldn't enlarge the hole. Conjuration was always more sure when the sorcerer could use his hands to gesture, but in this situation he'd have to do without.

Once before he'd searched for Belbe with a magical ferret. Now he summoned up a similar creation, this time a retriever. It was hard evoking anything to appear in the glare of the energy beam, but he managed to create his retriever in the air above his head. It resembled a ghostly ball studded with spikes, like a translucent sea urchin.

"Bring Belbe here," was all he told it. The retriever spun away. Ertai couldn't tell if it survived passing so close to the beam, but it was his last and only chance.

It took a long time for Sivi and Medd to work their way down from the airship dock. They were helped by the flood of soldiers entering the palace. They were able to mix with the new men and gradually put some distance between themselves and Predator. By the time the alarm was quelled, the two rebels were within sight of the convocation hall doors.

The antechamber was curiously devoid of troops. As Sivi and Medd entered from the central corridor, they paused to survey the room-nothing. No courtiers, no soldiers, no palace guards.

"When we get out of here, you know what I'm going to do?" Medd said as they proceeded.

"What?"

"I'm going to drink myself into a stupor the likes of which has not been seen before."

Sivi smiled. "Sounds like a good idea. What's your drink?"

"Black Eye." This was a Dal drink made from fermented lichen.

"Never had any," she said. "Why do they call it 'Black Eye?'"

"Oh, it has something to do with the effect. You drink enough, you fall down and wake up the next morning with a black eye."

"That's an old man's tale."

Sivi and Medd whirled. Out of a shadowed alcove in the rear wall came Teynel and Garnan.

"Cousin!" Medd burst out, but Teynel's somber face stilled any further display of joy by the young Dal rebel.

"What have you been doing, Liin Sivi?" said Teynel coldly.

"My duty," she replied.

"You attacked the airship, didn't you?"

She folded her arms. "Isn't that why we came?"

"Did you destroy Predator?"

Sivi chewed her lip. "No."

"Where's the rest of your group?"

"Dead. Where are yours?"

Teynel flipped the mantle back from his shoulders. "Lost or slain, I don't know. By now there must be four companies guarding the airship. We'll never get through to it. All we can do now is find Eladamri and get out of here."

She said nothing. Garnan and Medd walked ahead a few paces while Teynel fell into step beside the Vec woman.

"You disobeyed my orders," he said in a voice for her ears only.

"I had an opportunity and chose to take it."

"And failed." Their boots clacked loudly on the faux marble. "If Eladamri is dead, I'll see you die as well."

She raised a single eyebrow. "I'll make my case to any council or court you can raise."

"I'm not talking about a trial," Teynel explained. "I mean just this-if Eladamri is dead, I'll kill you."

Sivi nodded. "You can try."

Thirty yards outside the prison tower they ran into their first checkpoint. A mix of palace guards and regular soldiers had blocked off the passage with a wall of spears and shields. Teynel stepped in front of Garnan and Medd. Piled against the wall were three dead moggs. Their sword wounds were still oozing blood.

"Halt," said the guardsman at the shield line. "Stand and be recognized!"

Teynel saluted. "Corporal Elcaxi of the Fourth Company. This is my squad. We're supposed to patrol out to the prison and back." He rolled his eyes. "Trouble is, nobody's told us what we're patrolling for."

"Don't I know it," said another guard. "The alarm sounds, we turn out, and what happens? Nothing."

Sivi pointed to the dead moggs. "What's that?"

"Bunch of moggs. Tried to force their way through here." The first guardsman grinned. "They didn't make it." The guards pulled two sets of propped-up shields aside and let the rebels pass.

"These fellows aren't very smart," Garnan observed.

"Don't underestimate them," said Teynel. "There's thousands of troops in the Stronghold, so no one can know them all. This little charade of ours can't succeed much longer. As soon as somebody recognizes you two from Predator, or figures out there is no Corporal Elcaxi, we'll be in the soup."

They passed through another roadblock before reaching the bridge to the prison tower. The bridge itself was empty. Teynel had the others follow him single file to hide their numbers from any oncoming foe. They entered the lower doors of the prison without encountering anyone.

"This is too easy," Sivi said. "Someone should be on guard here."

"It smells bad, I agree." Teynel looked both ways down the curving passage. "I wonder where they're keeping Eladamri?"

"Should we split up and search?" asked Medd.

"Not this time. Stick with me. We may be in for a fight."

Teynel chose to go right. They moved slowly down the hall, checking the doors they passed for noises. Except for some soft shuffling and scraping sounds, they heard nothing.

"I guess prisoners don't last long here," said Sivi.

The farther they went, the darker the hall became. Flowstone lamps provided anemic, orange light. Sivi sniffed at them, recalling her failure to ignite Predator with such a lamp. Teynel tried to adjust one for more light. Instead of getting brighter, it went out.

"Let's get out of here," Garnan said suddenly.

"We can't abandon Eladamri," said Teynel.

"You're getting spooked," Medd suggested. "So a light burns out. So what? There's no real danger yet. Let's go on."

Teynel and Sivi were going on regardless. An open door partly blocked the passage in front of them. Teynel waved for everyone to stop. A low, steady light shone from the open door. With hand signals he indicated he wanted Garnan and Medd to stay in the corridor. He and Sivi would investigate the room.

Teynel peered around the heavy door. The cell was set up as a torture chamber-manacles on the wall, pans of hot coals, and all kinds of hideous tools were laid out on a table in the center of the room. A stout chair sat with its back to the open door. Someone was in the chair.

Teynel drew his sword. He slipped in, and Sivi ghosted in behind him, toten-vec in her hand. He carefully circled to the left around the chair while Sivi circled right. More and more of the sitter's face came into view.

"Eladamri!"

Teynel rushed to the chair. The elf was tied hand and foot to the massive chair. His head hung down. Teynel put a hand to his chest and felt a strong heartbeat.

"He lives!" he announced joyfully. Sivi knelt and began cutting the bonds on his legs with the blade of her totenvec. Teynel used his sword to free Eladamri's hands.

"Water," Teynel said. Sivi brought the clay pitcher from the table. Teynel gently splashed some on the elf's face. Eladamri stirred.

"You came," he said weakly.

"I'm sorry, brother. There's been trouble," Teynel said.

"The airship?"

"I tried to destroy it, O Eladamri," Sivi said. "I failed."

Teynel poured water into the elf's cupped hands. Eladamri drank. "Can you stand?" Teynel asked. "We should get out of here as soon as possible."

"Give me a moment."

Sivi leaned her hip on the table. When she did, something cracked under her feet. Flecks of broken pottery

… she picked one up. The shard was yellow boneware with a red glaze on it, just like the water pitcher Teynel held. Someone must have broken an identical jug.

There were sounds of movement in the hall, the scrape of metal on stone.

Medd cried out, "Soldiers coming! Teynel, hurry!"

In a flash Sivi was at the door. She looked past the two Dal fighters and saw at least fifteen palace guards coming down the passage.

"Time to go!"

"Time indeed." Eladamri rose swiftly from the chair, without a trace of pain or injury. Teynel, still kneeling beside the chair, stared in amazement.

"I was beginning to think they'd never get here," the elf said.

"What are you talking about, brother?" said Teynel.

"Your doom, rebel fool."

Teynel stood up, sword in hand. He'd spent many days with Eladamri, and they'd always been of similar heightTeynel was about a hair taller, in fact. The Eladamri with him now was more than six inches taller. Even as he gazed in horror at the familiar face, the bruises and burns were fading from view.

"By the gods," he said. "It can't be!"

"What is it?" Sivi said. To her horror, she saw Teynel raise his sword to strike Eladamri. The surprisingly strong elf caught Teynel's wrist, and with a brutal motion he broke the Dal fighter's arm. Teynel's sword fell to the floor.

Already the two rebels in the corridor were hotly engaged with Citadel guards. The too narrow hall didn't allow the Rathi troops to exploit their superior numbers, giving the rebels a small chance.

The impostor Eladamri, still holding Teynel by the arm, stooped to retrieve the rebel's sword. He examined the hilt briefly, nodded, then with his left hand thrust the blade through Teynel's chest. The Dal rebel gasped.

"Bastard!" Sivi yelled. She flung the toten-vec at the impostor. He tried to dodge, but he was hampered by the dying Teynel. The iron blade caught him on the side of the neck. He snarled with rage and hurled Teynel's lifeless body at the Vec warrior woman. Tearing the blade from his neck, the impostor seemed to swell even larger, distorting his false elven features grotesquely.

Sivi recovered the toten-vec and lunged for the door.

Medd and Garnan were holding off the guards, who seemed strangely reluctant to press their attack. Sivi stood back to back with Medd, watching the door of the interrogation cell. She expected the misshapen Eladamri to emerge, but instead, Greven il-Vec stepped into the hall. She knew it was the same man by the neck wound she'd given him.

"Dread Lord," called the captain of the guards. "Are you all right?"

"Quite all right. Watch out for the pretty one. Her little toy can sting."

"What's happening back there?" Garnan said, desperately parrying concerted sword thrusts.

"Never mind! Keep your eyes front and fight!" Sivi cried.

The Greven impostor did not attack either. He backed away, always keeping his eyes on Sivi. At the first door beyond the open cell, he stopped and put a key in the flowbot lock. Greven stepped farther back, opening the door as he went.

"I'd love to remain and watch the fight, but I have an appointment with Lord Crovax," he said. "In my place I leave you a gellerac."

From the black cell door a single red tentacle writhed out, seeking something to grab. It found its liberator's leg and tried to coil around it, but Greven brought his heel down sharply on the leathery appendage. It retracted a foot or two and changed direction. Two more tentacles appeared, followed by a fat, wallowing torso covered in the same dark red leathery hide.

"Friends," said Sivi. "We're in trouble."

The rebels and the guards stopped fighting to gaze at the monster. More and more of the gellerac oozed out the door. A bulbous upper appendage reached the light. The top was covered with a mass of white miniature tentacles that wriggled and flexed in faster imitation of the lower tentacles. Midway between the thing's neck and animate "hair" was what might be a mouth-an obscene star-shaped orifice rimmed with oily gray skin and drooling pink saliva. The palace guards muttered among themselves and fell back.

"You have only to keep the rebels from escaping," Greven told his troops. "Otherwise you can leave them to the gellerac."

The beast filled the width of the passage, and there was no sign it had fully emerged from its cell. The tentacles gripped the door of the interrogation room, pushing it shut. Liin Sivi wondered if the monster would simply crush them with its disgusting, ponderous bulk. As if in answer, the vile mouth erupted outward, inverting the wet skin to reveal row upon row of conical teeth.

She lashed at the creature four times in quick succession. The blade of her weapon scored deep gashes in the monster's blubbery flesh, but it hardly seemed to notice. A blood-red limb as thick as her arm wrapped around her ankle and jerked her to the floor. The gellerac, moving with astonishing speed, hurled its toothy lips at her.

Medd stepped in and drove his sword through the creature's mouth. Blackish blood poured from the wound, and the gellerac vibrated with pain. It heaved Medd off his feet and threw him against the wall. The respite gave Sivi time to slash the tentacle gripping her leg. It loosened, and she scrambled out of reach with help from Garnan.

The Rathi troops had withdrawn more than six yards.

Sivi got to her feet. "I don't think this monster knows friend from foe-let's see if it likes fighting them as well as us!"

They retreated to the point where the guards had stopped.

Sivi called out, "O Captain! Hear me!"

"What do you want, Rebel?"

"That beast has no eyes-I wonder if your men taste as good to it as mine do?"

"What's your point?"

"I'm just wondering what happens after we're dead? How're you going to stop it?"

More mutterings from the Rathi soldiers, made all the more urgent as the gellerac rolled rapidly down the passage after them. Sivi and comrades ran right at the guards, who lowered their sword points. The gellerac hit the line of guards and caught two in its tentacles. They yelled and hacked at the creature with their swords. Some of their comrades joined in. A few at the rear turned and fled.

"This is no warrior's fight," Sivi said. "Your master cares nothing about your lives!"

The Rathi captain watched, a loathsome look on his face. One of his men vanished underneath the gellerac, his screams muffled by flabby flesh.

"Fall back!" shouted the captain. "Fall back to the bridge!"

The Stronghold troops broke and ran. The captain tried to corral the rebels, but Sivi warned him off with lightning cracks of the toten-vec. The gellerac had slowed its advance while digesting its first catch.

Sivi, Medd, and Garnan backed down the left hand passage.

"You can't escape," the Rathi captain said. "Surrender to me, and I'll protect you from the monster!"

"You'd better worry about your own hide, O Captain," Sivi said. "We'll take our chances elsewhere!" She slapped Medd on the back and they ran down the open passage.

Halfway around the tower, they waited and listened. The heavy sliding noise of the gellerac wasn't evident.

"Liin, what happened to Teynel?" Garnan asked. In few words, she described the bizarre trap they'd fallen into, and Teynel's death. Garnan covered his face and wept quietly.

Medd looked to Sivi. "When did Greven il-Vec become a shapeshifter?"

"Why ask me? Anything seems possible in this mad fortress!" Soft scraping sounds filtered down the dim corridor. "Time to move on."

They arrived at the opposite side of the tower and noticed another gate. It was standing open, so they reconnoitered carefully before going through. There was no sign of Greven or anyone else.

Medd examined the gate. "This lock's been forced."

"Why would the Rathi force their own lock?" said Garnan.

Sivi narrowed her eyes. "They wouldn't. Come."

They burst onto the bridge. Two Rathi soldiers stood guard halfway along to the next tower. When Sivi, Garnan, and Medd appeared, the sentries drew swords and blocked the path.

"Wait," muttered Sivi under her breath. "We're still friendly soldiers until somebody tells them otherwise."

They approached slowly. The sentries had the visors down on their helmets.

At a distance of six paces, one of them shouted, "Halt!"

Sivi saluted sloppily. "Greetings."

"What's the watchword?" said the sentry.

"Eh?"

The sentry flung out his arm, pointing his sword at Sivi. "What is the watchword?"

Sivi glanced helplessly at Medd and Garnan. They dropped their hands to their sword hilts.

"Tell this stupid soldier the watchword!" the sentry barked.

The second sentry replied, "Tant Jova!"

Tant Jova? "Who are you?" Sivi demanded. Up went the visors. "Kireno! Shamus!"

There was much back slapping as the rebels were reunited at last. Sivi cut short the celebration,

"Teynel and the rest are dead, and our presence is known."

"We heard the alarm," Shamus said.

"We came to find Eladamri, but we didn't."

"He's with us," Kireno said. "He got himself out, and rescued another prisoner from the cells. They're hiding in the map room, yonder."

"Take me there," Sivi said. "I have much to tell him."

The hall filled with dignitaries, court functionaries, and idlers. The array of banners was still in place, but so great was the demand for space, the flags were pushed back to the walls by the steadily growing crowd.

Belbe stood on the dais beside the empty throne, watching people arrive. Still in her Phyrexian armor, she fixed the rococo emblem of the Hidden One in the plume holder of her helmet. She'd been unable to find Ertai all morning, and a cold clutch of fear gripped her inside. She could think of nothing else to do but hide the plasma discharger behind the vacant throne. A fresh powerstone glowed within it.

It was an hour past midday. The incoming crowd thinned. From beyond the open doors came the tramp of men marching in parade step. Onlookers scampered out of the way as a column of men in bright steel armor and white mantles, four abreast, marched straight into the convocation hall. It was the Corps of

Sergeants, two hundred strong. In accordance with tradition, their scabbards were empty, but Belbe knew the two hundred toughest men in the army of Rath didn't need swords to intimidate their opposition.

The leading sergeants, led by Nasser, halted the column at the foot of the throne. No orders were shouted, but the outer two files of men made quarter turns to the right and left respectively. The assembly shrank from the line of sergeants, who thus formed a glittering lane through the crowd.

Nasser bowed to Belbe. "Excellency, my lord Crovax is coming," he said. Belbe did not reply. She nudged the Phyrexian weapon with her toe and felt its reassuring weight.

A tall figure came walking across the antechamber. Belbe's pulse throbbed hard until she recognized the broad shoulders and towering height of Greven il-Vec. He bowed to her from the doorway, then tried to find a way outside the human aisle. In the end, he pushed his way through the crowd and took a place at the wall, on Belbe's right.

Someone else approached, a smaller person this time-too small to be Crovax. Belbe made out his face at a long distance. It was the Kor, Furah, garbed in gray leather. He moved with sinuous grace between the stern, unmoving sergeants. He took his place beside Greven and never took his eyes off the young emissary.

The timepiece behind Belbe silently flickered through some abstruse Phyrexian equation, then displayed Rathi time: one hour, one minute past midday.

She saw him a hundred yards away, striding confidently down the central corridor toward the antechamber. He was wearing his white ensemble again, the one Belbe would forever associate with the hostage massacre. Her recognition must have shown on her face, for the entire hall fell hushed long before Crovax reached the outer chamber.

His footsteps were loud against the hard walls. Belbe licked her lips and tried to swallow.

When Crovax reached the top of the steps, Nasser raised his right foot and stamped down hard.

Steel and stone rang together as he cried, "Lord Crovax!"

"Crovax!" shouted the sergeants.

With the skill of an actor, Crovax waited at the door until his men stopped cheering. Then, in utter silence, he ascended the aisle, his gold-trimmed mantle rippling with the wind of his passage. Greven switched his gaze to Crovax, but Belbe noticed Furah was still watching her. Crovax halted at the foot of the throne.

"Your Excellency sent for me?"

She nodded, slowly. Crovax turned and faced the hall.

"People of Rath," she began. "I, the emissary of the overlords, the Lens of Abcal-dro, the chosen representative of the Hidden One, greet you."

"All power to the Hidden One!" Crovax exclaimed.

"All power to the Hidden One," answered the crowd.

"Since arriving here, it has been my mission to find a new governor of Rath. I was charged by our masters to put the crown on the head of the strongest candidate, to insure the rule of Rath was given to the most powerful, most intelligent, and most loyal servant of the Hidden One."

Belbe lowered her hand behind the throne, feeling for the tip of the plasma discharger. She found the smooth prongs, but before she could finish her ritual declaration or pick up the weapon, a small disturbance broke out at the rear of the hall.

She stepped away from the throne. A small, bright object, about the size of an apple, flew into the room. People at the back shrank from it or swiped at it with their hats. In neither case did anyone touch it.

Crovax was livid. Without moving, he tried to snare the flying object with flowstone pincers called up from the floor or nearby columns. The spiny sphere easily dodged the clumsy claws, and the only ones caught by them were unfortunate courtiers near the center of the crowd.

The object danced down the aisle. The sergeants watched it, but they were unsure whether to break ranks and seize it or not. The ball flew past Crovax's head and hovered in front of Belbe.

"A friend of yours?" asked Crovax icily.

She held out her hand, charmed by the playful sphere. It ran its soft spikes gently over her palm, and she was seized with a desire to have this object and keep it with her always.

It darted away, and Belbe ran after it. The crowd dissolved in frantic gossip. Crovax grabbed Belbe's arm as she passed.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I must have it…"

"What about the ceremony?"

"I'll come back-I will-as soon as I catch this thing."

He shook her, none too gently, saying, "You can't leave until you discharge your duty! Say the words, you stupid little-"

Greven interrupted. "She cannot say anything now, my lord. She's under a magical compulsion."

"What! Who dares-?" He must have answered his own question, and he shut his mouth. Releasing Belbe, he spoke in Nasser's ear. Crovax went to the steps leading up to the throne and sat down, casually crossing his legs.

Nasser shouted for quiet. "People of Rath!" he said. "There will be a minor delay in the ceremony. Lord Crovax has asked that no one leave the hall until the emissary returns."

To make sure of it, the sergeants locked arms to keep people away from the doors. Belbe ran out, chasing the glowing ball. Nasser spoke hastily to the seated Crovax, then hurried after her.