Jess Lebow - The Darksteel Eye

Glissa was confused. “You sound as if you’ve given up on your own kind.”

“Not given up,” replied the wolf. “I merely accept a likely eventuality. I understand that one day there may be no more wolves on Mirrodin.”

Glissa tried to put herself in the wolf’s place, She shuddered at the thought of all the elves being extinct. What if she were the only one left?

“That’s a horrible thing to live with.”

Al-Hayat smiled. “No one said it was easy being a wolf. But you’re right, and that is why I came to you. I tire of hiding, of waiting for the inevitable end. Better to do something, even if I fail, than simply sit still. That’s no way to live-alive but without hope or options.” The great beast let his head fall back to the ground, blowing out air through his nostrils and sending up a plume of dust. “I no longer wish to be afraid.”

“So I just happened through your part of the Tangle in the moment when you decided to end your hiding?” Glissa scratched her head. “Maybe my luck is changing.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said the wolf.

A chill ran down Glissa’s spine, and she drew her sword, spinning around to scan the area.

Al-Hayat laughed so hard he tossed Slobad into the air. The sleeping goblin awoke mid-flight, landing in the soft fur only to be tossed back up again.

“Hey,” screamed the groggy goblin, “stop that.”

Glissa scowled. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” replied the wolf, “I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

Glissa looked around cautiously, glancing up at Bosh.

The iron golem shook his head. “I see nothing.”

Certain that there were no levelers or unfriendly beasts around, the elf turned back to the wolf. “So what then?”

“I merely meant that you shouldn’t take my appearance as luck,” said Al-Hayat, still chuckling. “I have been stalking you since you arrived in the Tangle.”

Glissa sat down hard on the ground. “Why is it that everyone knows where I am and what I’m doing?” The elf picked up a pile of metal shavings and tossed them at a tree. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. I wish someone would tell me where he gets his information. At least then I’d know if I’m on the right track.”

Slobad climbed off of Al-Hayat and sat down beside her. “Slobad think you on right track, huh?” he said.

Glissa looked own at the bruised goblin. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Al-Hayat stood up and lowered his face to Glissa’s. “I too think you are on the right path. That is why I am here. That’s why I joined you.”

Glissa shook her head. “How did I get here? One day everything was fine. I had parents, lived in a village with other elves, had friends.” She threw another pile of metal shavings. “Now I’m on the run, following some destiny that I’m not even fully aware of, looking for the creature responsible for my family’s death, talking to a creature who those same parents had told me was nothing more than the creation of an overactive imagination.”

“And you have friends,” boomed Bosh.

“Yes,” added the goblin.

Glissa looked up at the wolf. “You too?”

Al-Hayat smiled. “I’d be honored to be your friend.”

* * * * *

Malil sat atop his leveler. The wind whipped around his head. Arrayed before him, traversing the plains of Mirrodin, was the remainder of his leveler squad.

They were headed to Mephidross.

What a dark, dank place that was. Malil didn’t know when he started feeling this way about the swamp. He didn’t remember having any opinion of the place at all when he’d been introduced to it.

Things had changed.

Not in Mephidross but inside Malil. Things were different now. He couldn’t say for certain exactly how, but they were. It wasn’t so much that there were specific obstacles he faced, things that made his life more difficult. No, it seemed to him that everything looked the same, felt the same, but now the edges were blurred.

Before, he had known exactly where his loyalties lay. He had been created by Memnarch. He owed his life and his allegiance to his creator, and simply serving the Guardian had been enough. Now, though, Malil felt … well, he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt, but he knew it was different.

Things seemed clearer than before. He understood how the world and the systems within it functioned as a unity. But with this new knowledge came more confusion. He didn’t understand his own place within Mirrodin. Would he forever remain the servant to Memnarch? Was that the entire purpose of his life? Or was there … something more.

For all his new-found clarity, Malil felt more confused. Maybe with more serum, he’d be able to figure all this out. The dose he’d taken had only scratched the surface-cleared away enough of the debris to capture his interest. But now the glimpse of the bigger picture he’d been given was driving him mad. He needed more.

That was the problem.

The only place he could get more was Panopticon. But if he went back to the interior, he’d have to report to Memnarch. To do that he needed to have the elf girl.

How could he be expected to concentrate on finding the elf girl if he didn’t get more serum?

Malil repeated this mantra to himself as he and his levelers approached Mephidross.

* * * * *

The open plains stretched out before Bosh, Slobad, Glissa, and Al-Hayat. To the iron golem, the rolling hills, pieced together from huge sheets of colored metals, had always seemed a hospitable and welcoming place. Everything fit together in an overly organized fashion.

Bosh liked that.

Lines made sense to him. It was the curves and the unpredictable creativity of flesh creatures that he didn’t understand. Better that things fit inside a box, made sense, followed strictly designed rules.

Now it no longer worked that way. Once the creator had left-was compelled to leave really-everything went to the nine hells. Now Bosh too was turning to flesh.

Bosh looked out to the East as the group walked. The wind whipping through the tall razor grass made high-pitched whistles that rode off into the distance. In some places, the iron golem recalled, you could hear that sound from miles away. Up close though, when the blades of grass touched each other, you could hear a subtle, tinkling chime. Combined with the whistling, the two sounds together created a noise unlike anything else on Mirrodin-an unintentional music.

The group of friends traveled in the valleys of the sloping hills. This time of year the moons were nearly aligned, so if they weren’t in the sky, they were on the other side of the world, leaving parts of Mirrodin black and cold. The alternative wasn’t much better. When all the moons were overhead, color began to wash out. The metal plates of the plains reflected back black, white, blue, and red, making everything look brown and ugly.

During a convergence, it was hot as well. All those moons-or suns, as the leonine persisted in calling them-pouring light down onto the open ground made a metal golem uncomfortable, especially those parts of him that had become flesh. Now was one of those times. The exposed fleshy bits on Bosh’s arms and torso were turning a bright red, and they tingled.

“Is flesh always so bothersome?” he asked, scratching a patch of skin.

“You get used to it, huh?” replied the goblin, who was riding on his shoulder.

“Does it get easier?”

“Oh yeah.”

“That’s good to know.”

Glissa, riding on the back of Al-Hayat, pushed a finger into the reddened flesh near Bosh’s collar. “We should cover you up. You’re getting moonburn.”

“Moonburn? What is that?”

“It’s when you stay out under the moons too long, and your skin gets too much moonlight.”