Robert Wintermute - Zendikar - In the Teeth of Akoum

Where had her life left her? She was standing in a clearing in the Turntimber Forest, outnumbered and about to perish. Yes, she had traveled to a couple of filthy planes that had neither the beauty, nor the power of Zendikar, and were full of big-nosed humans and beings as nasty as any she could imagine. She glanced at the creatures ambling forward. Beings like those outlanders, she said to herself.

She could planeswalk away, at that moment, and nobody would be the wiser for it. Her squad was dead Hiba included. But if she ran, she would be running for the rest of her life, alone and wandering a shadow out of the jungles of Bala Ged. Nissa drew a deep breath and released it slowly. She was a Joraga, and she would die as such. She scanned the ranks of the creatures, close enough for her to smell their mushroomy skin. She could take perhaps forty of them with her. She raised her sword and prepared to charge.

Suddenly, something caught the creatures attention, and they all turned to the right to look. Nissa turned as well.

A lone figure stepped out of the forest: a human, by his height, dressed in black leathers, with shiny silver plates on his shoulder and a small silver breast plate. His hair was white and brushed back long off his forehead. A great sword on his belt clattered as he walked forward and clapped his hands together.

What have we here, the stranger said in an accent that she d never heard before. Yet another barong, Nissa thought.

Have you all slipped your chains already? the strange man asked as he walked. I am lost and looking for the Eye of Ugin.

The creatures stood stock still, only their tentacles writhed back and forth between Nissa and the strange new addition. The man walked toward their side and flank. She could sense the creatures dilemma. What they didn t want was to be flanked. I d attack if I were them, Nissa thought. Attack.

And they did. With no obvious signal, the creatures began to charge. Nissa looked at the man. He raised his arms, and in a moment she could feel the air rushing past her ears, drawn toward him. Rivulets of dim energy condensed on the orbs suddenly blooming around each of his hands. And then he began to speak in the most booming, deep voice she had ever heard, but in a language she had never heard. The air between the stranger and the charging horde refracted and bent, and then each of the creatures fell to the ground in a lump, simply falling into a rotted mass.

As amazing as that spell was and it was one of the most amazing and disturbing things Nissa had ever seen still more startling was the reaction by the remaining creatures. Perhaps six of them were, apparently, out of the range of the man s spell. With their compatriots lying at their feet, the creatures continued charging at the dark-clad man. He said a few more grim words, and the remaining creatures fell.

Nissa wasted no time. She turned and started running back into the forest to the tree. Once there, she glanced up and confirmed her worst fear. She climbed the trunk in seconds.

Her wall of vines was still in one piece, and it was with no small amount of pride that she counted nineteen dead creatures hanging from it, with arrows bristling out of them. But when she looked behind the wall, her heart caught in her throat. Some of the bodies of her raiding party were still there, torn into parts in the dappled light. Naarl flies the size of Nissa s fingers buzzed over the bright red meat. More parts were thrown into the branches around her. The buzz of the flies was suddenly too loud in her ears. When she turned to leave, the face of a decapitated elf was lodged in the crotch of a branch, looking out at her with fixed eyes.

She found him on the forest floor. His right arm was crushed flat, and both his legs too, but he was breathing. His left hand still held the grip of his bow, and she could not pry it free from his fingers, no matter what she did.

Hiba, she whispered in his ear. Hiba, I thought you were dead. Take a deep breath. She put her arms under his neck and under his buttocks and brought him, screaming, into the clearing. She put him down as carefully as she could.

The stranger was walking among the dead creatures shaking his head. He turned when Nissa approached and he watched her put the stricken elf down. The way he stared made her uneasy, but she busied herself by making Hiba as comfortable as she could. She tried to forget the spell she d just seen the stranger cast as she cupped her hands around her mouth and turned to him.

Do you have water? she yelled. She made the drinking gesture. Water?

He walked over to where she sat. Up close he was taller than she d thought and his gold-flecked eyes gave his pale face a curious intensity. He took only a casual glance at Hiba. His eyes sat on her.

This one will die shortly, he said without looking down at Hiba, in a voice that echoed from deep in his throat.

This one is already dead.

She couldn t be absolutely sure if the stranger was talking about Hiba, or one of the creatures on the ground.

Who are you? she asked.

He looked out over the clearing. I am called Sorin.

Sorin turned back and settled his golden eyes on Nissa again. Hiba moaned.

And you are a Joraga elf, I should think, he said.

Nissa Revane, she said, placing her right hand on her heart and bowing slightly, as was the elf custom.

Something moved in the middle of the clearing. An arm flopped. Sorin followed her eyes. A vampire slave apparently lives, he said.

Vampires, Nissa said. She had not meant to, but her lip curled.

The strangers watched her for an extra second before a slow smile stretched his pale lips. Yes, he said. Quite.

Sorin turned and walked to the middle of the clearing. He bent down and seized the vampire and lifted him by the wrist as easily as he might lift a water skin. He dragged the creature back to where Nissa was standing and dumped him unceremoniously next to Hiba. Nissa inadvertently took a step back.

Sorin chuckled. Your home of Bala Ged is near Guul Draz. Is it not?

It is, she said. And we fight to keep these from our borders.

The creature at her feet was different from the other vampires she d fought. His hair was not in his eyes, for one. It was pulled into a tight, long braid. His skin was just as pale and bluish, however; and he was painted: a red line extended up his bare chest to his chin, then continued from his forehead to the top of his head through a shaved channel. He had the same vestigial horns extending in black curls from his shoulders and elbows.

Where s his bampha? she asked.

Sorin s face remained blank. Oh, he said.

You mean its weapon. The brood lineage took it, I suspect.

Bampha. Nissa shuddered at the thought of their long, two-handed weapons of sharpened bone. Long elegant weapons left long elegant slashes. She had the scars to prove it.

What did you call these things? Nissa asked, toeing a dead creature s tentacle.

These are brood lineage.

Brood lineage, she said, licking her lips.

Lineage of what?

Her words hung in the air.

They have been slumbering all these years, the slave vampire said suddenly. Abed in the stones of Akoum.

A bellowing growl echoed across the clearing. Sorin seemed not to notice the sound. He was looking down at the vampire, who was looking up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Those eyes, Nissa thought. Those black, iridescent eyes.

How do you know of the lineage? Sorin barked.

Sorin s voice had a certain sharpness to it. The slave vampire winced with each word as he struggled up and carefully stood. There were numerous metal cylinders dangling from his belt. His hair braid, as thick as a man s forearm, reached almost to the ground. He wasn t nearly as tall as Sorin, but just as slim and lithe. He felt for each of the metal cylinders before continuing.