Cory Herndon - The Fifth Dawn

Another explosion sent a wave of heat washing over Glissa, and she involuntarily glanced down to see what had happened.

One of the quake beasts had stopped pounding on the mountainside and had the bright idea to instead attack the massive goblin cannon. The attack had knocked the weapon’s barrel at an odd angle and it had fired against the side of Krark-Home itself.

“All right,” Glissa said through clenched teeth. “One more delay, and that’s it.”

The elf girl’s nerves almost hummed in the proximity of so many artifact creatures. Glissa didn’t know the limits of her destructive power, or if what she had in mind would exhaust it before the final battle, when she might need it most. At the moment, she didn’t care. She wheeled in the sky and reached out to touch the Tangle energies. The familiar buzz crackled on her outstretched arms, and she envisioned green fire forcing the massive quake-beasts apart at the seams.

Two rays of blazing jade shot from her clasped hands and struck each gigantic construct squarely in the center of its ovoid body. Glissa willed the power to keep flowing, and the energy obliged, leaping from one quake-beast to another and back again. Finally, they erupted with a pair of successive mushroom explosions that rocked the mountain and sent a visible shock wave of smoke and debris over the battlefield.

The elf girl smelled smoke and realized it was coming from her own body, but she felt no pain. She checked on the Miracore, still tucked safely in her jerkin. The talisman was unharmed-in fact, it was cool to the touch. Glissa was drained and the Tangle energies already felt distant, but it had been worth the effort.

She nearly collided with a tall, familiar humanoid figure covered in mottled silver that rose to block her path. Malil stood astride a larger version of the typical vedalken flyer that bristled with the same iron tubes she’d seen mounted on the noses of aerophins.

“Hello, elf girl,” Malil said. “Having fun?”

“Flare!” Glissa muttered, drawing her sword. She hoped that flight spell wouldn’t give out any time soon.

“No need for that,” Malil replied. “I’m not here to fight.”

“Then why are you here? I’m busy,” Glissa said.

“I just need this,” Malil said, and before Glissa could react, he kicked the flyer into gear and zipped behind her, hooked one finger through the heavy chain supporting the Miracore, and lifted it over her head. Without another word, Malil spun the flyer in mid-air and zoomed off in the direction of the Tangle.

“Flare!” Glissa cursed.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Glissa muttered. No matter how fast she pushed her borrowed flight power, she couldn’t gain on Malil.

The elf girl had dropped her guard, thinking she had the whole sky to herself.

Stupid.

Glissa poured on as much speed as she could, but the tiny silver shape of Malil’s flyer remained as distant as ever. He had been following the ragged line of the Oxidda range for half an hour, and now the Tangle loomed-wild, powerful, and calling to Glissa’s soul like an old friend. An old friend that had undergone a growth spurt in her five-year absence.

The Tangle had not spread, like the Dross, but the diffusion of magic five years ago had led to an explosion of plant life. The oldest trees now rose like sentinels above the canopy, joined in their vigil by several of the omnipresent silver spires that seemed to be everywhere on the surface of Mirrodin.

Malil made a wide turn as he passed a circular break in the forest canopy-a venue into the thick foliage that could only be the lacuna. The metal man was heading straight back to his master with the prize. If Memnarch were to come into possession of the Miracore, what could she do? Though willing to try, Glissa didn’t really think she could take the Guardian in a straight fight, even if he weren’t protected by all the other bizarre constructs she’d seen before. The ones he was obviously still creating at a breakneck pace. Malil looped once and dove straight down into the hole in the side of the world. Glissa followed, closing the distance for the first time since the chase began.

The lacuna was tangled with vines and roots all around the edges, but still provided ample room to maneuver as long as Glissa stayed clear of the sides. Malil, however, stuck close to lacuna walls, diving around and through the snarl of vegetation. Glissa gained a little more. Why was Malil allowing himself to slow down?

Something flashed far away down the long tunnel, something silver that was out of place in the midst of the vibrant vegetation. As soon as she saw the glint of metal it disappeared.

She must have imagined it. The only silver thing in the lacuna was Malil, and if she didn’t do something soon he was going to get away.

As Malil passed by the spot where Glissa thought she had seen a flash, the foliage exploded. A long-haired figure in tattered black clothing vaulted off the side of the lacuna and caught the metal man in a flying tackle. The blow knocked Malil cleanly from the flyer, which spun out of control, rudderless, and exploded against the inner wall far below. Both figures tumbled into open space, and slowly Malil and Glissa’s mysterious ally dropped downward. The metal man kicked and flailed, but his attacker clutched him around the waist, refusing to let go. Within seconds, she’d caught up to the pair and was able to get a good look at the man in black.

The man in black wasn’t a man at all. He was leonin.

Raksha Golden Cub flashed Glissa a toothy smile. “You’re here! You’re alive!” The leonin let out a long laugh that bordered on maniacal, and added, “I don’t know how much longer I can hold onto this creature! Do something!”

Malil screamed as Glissa raised her sword, but couldn’t get his feet or fists to connect with anything. In one smooth stroke, the elf girl brought her blade down on the metal man’s neck and out the other side. Arterial spray fanned into the air, but subsided within seconds as Malil bled out. Strange, when she’d tried that five years ago, the wound had healed instantly in a swirl of quicksilver. Flesh had almost consumed the metal man. Glissa slipped the Miracore from Malil’s headless shoulders, then Raksha released the body and gave it a shove. The mottled silver corpse crashed into the spiky vegetation that lined the lacuna, where it hung suspended by thorns and vines.

The elf girl slipped the Miracore over her head then grabbed the leonin under the armpits and gradually slowed their descent. Shifting Raksha in her arms to make sure she wouldn’t drop him, Glissa floated over to the side of the lacuna and felt the odd sideways turn of gravity. She set the leonin down gently amongst the vines and moss. At that exact moment, her flight spell finally gave out.

Glissa fell sideways and flopped onto the greenery next to Raksha, drawing breath and happy to be alive, happier still that she’d found her friend again-and at such an opportune time. The elf girl had grown accustomed to the constant pull of exhaustion, and the opportunity to just lie there was too much to resist. The relief at regaining the Miracore was palpable. Malil’s sudden theft of the talisman had almost looked like the end. Just a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt.

Finally, Glissa broke the silence. “So … you’re alive, then?”

Raksha snorted, and burst into that same odd laughter she’d heard before. Apparently, three years in the Tangle had wrought changes in the Golden Cub, both physical and mental. Had the others been right? Had he really gone mad?

The physical changes in the former Kha shocked her. Raksha’s black vorrac-leather tunic and trousers were ragged and ripped. A leonin longknife, the hilt worn smooth from use, was tucked sheathless into a knotted cablevine he wore around his waist. Little of his silver armor remained, but he still wore a chest plate carved with deep gouges, one battered pauldron on his left shoulder, and dented iron bracers that were caked with rust. Despite the conditions of his garments, Raksha appeared to have stayed in relatively good shape, if a little underfed. That much was obvious from the way he’d tackled Malil.