Will McDermott - The Moons of Mirrodin

Glissa’s vorrac-hide jerkin was gone as well. She was now covered by strands of brown vines woven through green petals to create a flowing blouse and skirt. She ran her fleshy, clawless hands over the skirt, feeling the softness of the petals against the warmth of her new hands. A word came to her mind unbidden .

“Leaves,” she said .

There were no such things in the Tangle, only metal-copper covered by molder, the dull green growth that tarnished all within the forest .

Glissa surveyed the strange forest, trying to find some landmark she could recognize, but there was a remarkable sameness to this place. Every brown tree grew straight up toward the sky and branched out into myriad leaf-covered limbs in every direction. No terraces swept high in the air; no curved spires marked one’s way; no luminous gelfruit hung from the trees to light the way home. There were leaves and that bright yellow light straight overhead .

Then she saw it-an odd glow coming through the trees. At first Glissa thought it was the light of the blue moon, but the light was too white, and the blue moon was never that bright so low in the sky. Staring at the glowing light, Glissa began to walk toward it. She didn’t even realize she was moving until she had passed several of the weird, brown trees and the glow had gotten larger. She willed her legs to stop but no longer had control over her body. She stumbled forward through the forest, moving ever closer to the strange light .

Glissa tried to grab onto a passing tree or branch, but their rough surfaces stung her soft flesh and cut into her palms as her legs pulled her onward. The glow loomed ahead of her. It now seemed to stretch to the tops of the strange trees. Frustrated, Glissa raised her arms up toward the golden light streaming from the sky and screamed. As if in response, tendrils of green energy, brighter than a gelfruit, enveloped her hands and began to run up her arms. Glissa shook her hands, trying to fling the energy away, but it continued to grow and branch, just like the limbs of the trees around her. They consumed her arms and reached up her neck toward her face. Glissa screamed again .

* * * * *

Glissa was back in the Tangle. She lay at the edge of the terrace, the squirming vorrac’s leg still in her hands. She could still hear herself screaming even though her mouth was closed. Glissa looked down at the wounded beast and saw green tendrils of energy coursing over her clawed fingertips. She gasped and pulled away, dropping the vorrac, which plummeted to the ground far below. The tendrils of energy remained for a moment on her claws, then discharged into the terrace. She felt a small charge of electricity run through her body. When she looked up, Kane was kneeling beside her, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Had he seen the energy, too? She dared not even ask.

“I’m fine,” she said to the unasked question.

“Did you have another flare?” asked Kane as he offered his hand.

Glissa nodded and grabbed Kane’s arm to pull herself up, but then stared at their entwined limbs as if seeing them for the first time. Her flare had felt so real that the sight of metal growing into flesh and flesh fused into metal seemed somehow unreal. Their arms glinted as the dim light from the moons reflected off the dull, supple metal. Kane’s metallic skin stretched as his elbow bent and his muscles flexed. The metal melted naturally into the soft, pale flesh of the elf’s shoulder-the same skin Glissa had seen covering her whole body.

Why should it seem so odd now to see her metallic parts move that way? Why did the vision in the flare seem more … normal?

“They’ve been coming more often lately,” she said, finally, to cover up the awkward pause. She tried to avoid Kane’s eyes, but was it the strange flare she’d had or the extra tingle she had felt when she and Kane touched that kept her silent?

“They always do as we get closer to the rebuking ceremony,” he replied. Apparently unaffected, Kane led the way along the terrace. “I nearly fell over on duty in front of the Tree of Tales this morning. One of the troll elders had to catch me as he entered the Tree.” Kane must have seen the concern on her face, because he continued. “They’re nothing to worry about. Flares are just old memories resurfacing. The rebuking ceremony will take care of them.”

“That’s what worries me,” she blurted out. “The flares I’ve had can’t be memories. I’m always in this weird forest with a bright yellow moon above and … and …”

Her voice trailed off as she stared down at her body. It was real; the flare body wasn’t. How could fleshy arms and legs be natural? And what about that energy? That had never happened before.

“And what?” asked Kane.

Glissa leaped up and grabbed the higher terrace, digging her long claws easily into the jagged metal as she thought about telling Kane the rest of it-the strange, fleshy body, the magical glow, the tendrils of energy. She shook her head. Kane had been her best friend for over a hundred cycles-her only friend to come back to her after the last rebuking ceremony, Glissa reminded herself.

She’d believed at the time that the ceremony was a conspiracy by the trolls to control the elves by denying them their past and had made the mistake of urging her friends to stay away from the ceremony. In the end, she had gone through the next ceremony just to rid herself of that memory. Most of her old friends, angry over their loss of rebuking, had shunned her-all but Kane.

She made her decision. This time she would keep her thoughts to herself.

“Nothing,” said Glissa after standing up on the higher terrace. “It was nothing. Just a stupid flare, a weird, stupid flare.”

Internally, she continued to press for answers. If flares were old memories overflowing from the rebuked parts of the mind, why did she see a world that wasn’t this one? Why did she keep seeing herself as a pale, fleshy creature in a soft-hued woods? She had lived her entire life in the Tangle and had never seen anything like that world. There was definitely something the trolls weren’t telling elves, but she would pursue that truth alone this time.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get that vorrac before someone else claims our kill.”

“He won’t be good for much but stew now,” said Kane. “Your mother won’t even need to grind up the meat.”

As the two warriors worked their way down to the vorrac carcass, Glissa thought about the upcoming rebuking ceremony and her decision to avoid it. She knew it was the right thing to do. She needed to retain her memories if she was ever to find the truth about the trolls. Memories were important. Why couldn’t the rest of the elves see that? But if she was going to refrain from the rebuking she needed to learn to suppress the physical aspect of the flares. It would be a long hundred cycles if she fell down every time she had a flare.

Glissa looked at Kane as they dressed the vorrac. Perhaps she should tell him of her plans, though not of the content of the flares. Maybe he could help. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he would even join her and skip the ceremony. On the other hand, he was a Tel-Jilad Chosen-protector of the trolls and Tel-Jilad, the Tree of Tales. What if he informed the troll elders of her plan? They might force her into the ceremony. She would just have to risk it, she decided. She needed to tell someone, and Kane was her only friend. She needed him by her side.

“Why don’t you come over for the stew this evening?” she asked as casually as she could.

Kane pulled his dagger out from the ribs of the vorrac and smiled at Glissa. “Sounds good,” he said. “I’m on duty all night. Some hot vorrac stew will help keep me warm.”