Jess Lebow - The Darksteel Eye

His head breached the surface as he reached the inner sanctum inside Lumengrid.

“What in the name of the Creator happened here?”

Lieutenant Marek stepped to the edge of the pool and extended his hand. “The human warriors from Medev, Lord Pontifex.”

Pontifex reached up and took hold of Marek’s hand, lifting himself from the pool in a practiced motion. “The humans happened?”

“No,” replied the lieutenant. “A fight happened. The humans caused it.”

Pontifex looked straight into Marek’s helmet. “What happened to you?”

Marek put his hand to his face shield, partially covering a crack in the glass. “It’s … It’s nothing.”

“I didn’t ask you what it was, I asked you what happened. I’m not playing word games here, Marek, I’m trying to ascertain what went on in my absence.”

“Of course, my lord.” Marek stood to his full height, straightening his back. “We encountered the elf and her companions in the lacuna, but they managed to pass us.” He pointed to the crack in his helmet. “This is a result of that encounter.”

The halberd in Pontifex’s hand glowed a deep blue, and the vedalken lord blew out a breath, forming bubbles inside his face mask. After a moment, he began pacing, tapping the end of his weapon on the floor as he walked.

“You can give me the details later, but tell me this: How long ago did they get away, and have you sent someone after them already?”

“When I arrived, they were already gone. That was nearly an hour ago.” Marek lifted his chin. “I formed a sky glider team, and they will be leaving in pursuit shortly.”

Pontifex tapped his fingers on the glass of his face mask. “Call back the gliders.”

“My lord?”

“Call them back,” snapped Pontifex. “We will go after her in due time.”

Marek nodded. “As you command.”

Pontifex smiled. “Good, Marek.” He placed a finger on the crack in the lieutenant’s mask. “I’m glad you’re all right. Give the orders then go get this fixed up and meet me in my chambers. I have something I would care to discuss with you.”

* * * * *

Pontifex paced in his chambers. The damn elf had gotten away from him, but it was no matter. He would get her. He would find her, and he would deliver her to Memnarch. For now, there were other matters to take care of, matters a little closer to home.

A knock came at the door.

“Enter.”

The door to Pontifex’s private chamber slid open, and Marek entered. The commander of the vedalken elite guardsmen had removed his helmet and was now dressed in simple, functional robes. A sterile-looking bandage covered his forehead-an almost imperceptible dot of blue blood staining its surface-but otherwise the warrior appeared unfazed by his earlier ordeal.

Marek went down to one knee, bowing his head.

“Lord Pontifex.”

The vedalken leader admired the supine warrior’s neck.

“Rise, Marek. Do you have word of the Synod? Have they managed to enact a ‘Special Assembly’?”

“I do not mean to be presumptuous, Lord Pontifex, but wouldn’t you rather hear about the elf girl?”

Pontifex smiled. “All in good time, Marek, all in good time. Right now, I’m more concerned with the other council members. They will not be pleased that a human, the elf, and her companions marched into our fortress-into our holiest shrine, and entered the Pool of Knowledge.” Pontifex crossed the room, his woven metallic robes grinding against the polished floor. “They will try to hold me responsible.”

“My lord, you are the head of the Synod. Surely you can convince them that you-that we did our best to capture the elf and-”

Pontifex cut him off with a wave of his hand. “What you say makes sense, Marek, but I’m afraid there is much you have to learn about the politics of rulership.” He touched the warrior on the arm. “Despite our best efforts, there are those who will point to this event as evidence that I am not fit to rule the Synod. They will try to use it to their advantage. This ‘Special Assembly’ the other councilors are calling is nothing more than a grab for power. Anything they perceive as a weapon, including the escape of the elf girl, will be used.” He looked into Marek’s eyes, nodding his head. “Power has just shifted hands. At no time after this will my grip on the Synod be less secure. The other councilors are smart enough to recognize this, and they will not hesitate to make a move with whatever means are at their disposal. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.” Marek bowed his head.

Pontifex ran his hand over Marek’s scalp, tracing the edge of his fresh bandage with his index finger.

“Good, Marek.”

Glissa stood alone outside a large building on the edge of a rushing river. The sky was black. None of Mirrodin’s four moons shone overhead, a rarity. Glissa had seen times when more than one of the moons seemed to occupy the same place in the sky. One would cover the other, bathing the Tangle in an inescapable blinding light. Strange things occurred at these times, and it was always one of these convergences that marked the time before a festival or ritual.

Now times of darkness were fewer and far between. If one side of the plane was in darkness, it meant all the moons were on the other side-at the same time. Glissa knew what it meant when two of the moons were in alignment. It was time for the rebuking ceremony, time for all elves to give up their memories. It had been this ceremony that had caused her the most trouble while she had been in the Tangle. Giving up on all the things she’d experienced in this lifetime seemed like such a waste. It had been her decision to forego the Rebuking that had touched off the strange series of events that led her to her present situation.

This darkness was deeper than others she’d seen. This was no simple Convergence. Numerous Rebuking ceremonies had come and gone since she was a child. This time, however, all the moons were lining up-something that had never happened in her lifetime. If the runes on the Tree of Tales could be trusted, it was something that had only happened four times in the history of the world.

That was why she’d come to see Bruenna.

Glissa knocked on the door of the wizard’s tin home, but there was no answer. Pushing aside the chromelike curtain, the elf slipped inside the square building. The entryway was dark, but she could see a faint blue glow coming from a room deeper in the house. Following the light, she made her way to the place where she had first seen Bruenna looking over a series of maps spread out over a large table.

The room was still quite dark, lit by a magically glowing stone that hovered in the air. It cast a perfect circle of light on the floor, throwing the rest of the room into long, deep shadows. Below the glowing stone, Bruenna sat cross-legged, her hands pressed together as if in prayer, and her eyes closed.

Glissa stepped quietly inside the room.

“Hello, Glissa,” said Bruenna, not opening her eyes. “Please, come join me.”

Glissa crossed to the female wizard, circling around the long table still covered in rolled maps. She sat down facing Bruenna.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Bruenna smiled but still didn’t open her eyes. “You’re not disturbing me. I’m doing a meditative exercise my people call mulla bunda . It’s a practice to still the mind and heal the body.”

Glissa was a little uncomfortable. She’d never seen anybody sit that still. It seemed like a luxury-and boring.

“I’ll try to be quiet,” she said.

Bruenna’s smile widened. “There is no need. Part of the exercise is to focus while confronted with distraction. Please, talk to me. Tell me what you need.”