Jess Lebow - The Darksteel Eye

Glissa shrugged. “Okay.” She paused. “Bruenna, the moons are aligning.”

“Yes, I noticed. It’s very dark, darker than I’ve seen in my lifetime. This Convergence is different.”

“In the Tangle, when the moons align, it marks the coming of a new phase, a time of cleansing and renewal.”

“I’ve heard of the elf rituals.”

“Well, I’ve never been much of a believer in these things,” admitted the elf, “but until I’d seen it with my own eyes, I didn’t believe that Mirrodin was hollow.”

“And now you’re beginning to question yourself.”

Glissa took a deep breath. “Well, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would,” Bruenna opened her eyes, her smile gone. “I am.”

Glissa felt a sudden rush of relief. “I’m frightened, Bruenna.”

“As am I.” Bruenna lowered her hands to her lap and nodded. “But that fear is comforting.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I would be more concerned-about myself as a human-if I felt nothing during a troubling time. It is natural for elves as well to fear things they don’t understand. The question we must ask ourselves is not whether or not that fear is something we should be feeling but how are we going to react to it?”

“You mean, we should be trying to figure out how to stop the moons from aligning?”

Bruenna smiled. “No. There is nothing we can do about the forces of nature.”

Glissa wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand.”

“We have surprisingly little control over our destinies, yet we still manage to accomplish many things in a lifetime. Changing the course of the moons isn’t within our power to control, but how we react to such an event-personally, emotionally, spiritually-we do have some ability to steer. The question we must ask ourselves now is not what we must do, but are we afraid of our own shadows?” Bruenna leaned forward. “Are you going to let the convergence of the moons stop you in your task? Or will you face your challenges-fearful but unstoppable?”

Glissa did not hesitate. “I must go find the trolls again. They’re the ones who started me down this path. They’ll be able to answer my questions, maybe even tell me more about my role in all of this.”

Bruenna nodded. “I have heard that the trolls are very old. They may know a great many things.”

“Will you come with me? I could use the help.”

The wizard shook her head. “I cannot. My leg needs more healing, and my people need my guidance. There will be much to deal with when the vedalken come.”

It was Glissa’s turn to nod.

“I will promise you this, though-when the time comes, we will fight with you. We will help you free this world and fulfill your destiny.”

“Thank you.”

“No, Glissa, it is I who should thank you.”

* * * * *

After several long rotations of travel, the trees of the Tangle rose up tall before Glissa, Bosh, and Slobad.

“It’s good to be home,” said Glissa. “It’s been a long time.”

Bosh lifted the pair off his shoulders and set them gently on the ground. “Where will we find the trolls?”

“In the Tree of Tales,” explained Glissa, “deeper inside the Tangle.”

Elf, goblin, and golem made their way through the metallic forest. As they went, Glissa ran her eyes over familiar ground, bringing back a flood of memories.

She saw clearly her mother, father, and sister, their faces calm and comforting. They drifted away, replaced in her memory by the horror of the leveler attack that had killed them all. She would never forget the terrible sound their scythe blades made. And the blood. Everything was slick with blood.

* * * * *

Her memories faded, replaced by visions of trees-trees with leaves-and of a world with soft things and a sky of deep blue. A wind slipped lazily through the trees, and Glissa looked to the ground. Patches of green wavered in the breeze. She reached down, and her fingers ran over the edges. She pulled her hand away, expecting to see blood where the leaves had cut her flesh to ribbons-but there was nothing, just smooth, soft skin. No cuts. No blood.

She examined her hand more closely. There was no metal. The blades that extended from her knuckles were gone. She checked her shins. They too had no metal. Her whole body had transformed. Everything was flesh: soft, warm, and forgiving.

She was filled with panic. She reached for her sword, but it too was gone. She was defenseless, with no weapons and no claws. A crash made her look up. Two huge trees cracked in half, each falling away from the other, tumbling into the other trees, smashing away limbs and scattering branches as they hurled toward the ground. Between them towered a gigantic construct. Its gleaming metal chest stood out in stark contrast to the forest and soft plants all around. Its head, arms, and legs were a glowing blue, as if they were formed completely from magic.

The creature stared down at Glissa. She felt very small and tried to turn away. She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. The creature took a step toward her, and the ground trembled.

Glissa tried to scream, but no sound came from her mouth. She drew a breath and tried again-still, nothing. The construct took another step then bent down, reaching out. Its huge, glowing fingers wrapped around Glissa’s body, and she was lifted from the ground.

* * * * *

Glissa came to on the ground, Slobad’s face right above hers.

“You okay, huh?”

Glissa nodded. She had these visions from time to time. They were called flares, and she dreaded them. They were flashes really, pictures that ran in her head. All elves had them, but Glissa’s were stronger, more vibrant, than most. No one knew for certain what they were. Glissa thought of them as waking dreams-the possibilities of her mind showing themselves in brilliant colors.

The elders in her tribe had claimed the flares were visions of the future. Most elves did not believe that. Who could really see into the future?

Sometimes the visions blinked in and out, as if she were opening and closing her eyes while she spun in a circle. Each time her eyes focused again, a different scene filled her vision. It was only for a split second, then it was as if her eyes closed again, and she moved on, looking moments later upon something entirely different.

“No golem,” Glissa said.

“No golems?” Bosh seemed concerned. “Are there no golems allowed in the Tree of Tales?”

The elf shook her head, dazed. “Uh … no. That’s not what I was talking about. I’m sure they’ll allow you in.” She stood up. “They’d had better let you in.”

“What you talking about then, crazy elf?” asked Slobad.

“I had another flare.”

Slobad stood upright and looked at her with wide eyes.

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“What did you see?” asked the big golem.

“I saw a different world again. A world without metal.”

“A world without golems?”

“No. There was a golem, or at least what I thought was a golem.” Glissa shook her head, trying to clear it.

“It mean something, huh?”

“I don’t know, but it seemed like a nice place.” She looked at Bosh. “All except the part about the golem. I’m not sure it was a nice golem-” she touched Bosh’s arm-“like you.” She shrugged. “There were soft things there, like the blankets and beds we stayed in at Bruenna’s village. Even the grasses and bushes were soft.”

The goblin gasped. “Soft razor grass?”

“It wasn’t really razor grass. It just looked like it.” She straightened and headed deeper into the Tangle. “It was nothing. Get going.”

The trio walked on in silence for some time. The closer they got to the Tree of Tales, the more memories crept into Glissa’s mind. She thought of Kane, wearing the armor of the Tel-Jilad Chosen. A deep sadness filled her chest. It felt heavy, as if a vorac were standing on her chest. A knot in the bottom of her stomach moved and fluttered as if she’d swallowed a live bird.