Duel of the Gemini

Returns

The Rakdos cultists worked late into the night clearing away the debris and the injured. Little was done about the half-destroyed dome in the centre of the district, or about any of the damage they had caused for that matter. It was a lost district to begin with, and widespread destruction was all but inevitable wherever the Rakdos were involved. The demon himself was among the first to leave, eager to return before word of his failure to capture Chandra spread. But capture had never been Sorin’s or Liliana’s intention, they had achieved what they’d come for and decided to spend the night in celebration, wandering Ravnica’s more touristable districts, trading the lava-filled caves for more comfortable quarters in the city. Lyzolda would need time to work with her device, after all.
The clouds were clear and the mutual reflections of the sky and water bathed the entire city in a deep blue in the dull evening light. Sorin had his left arm back under his cloak, grateful for the fact that there didn’t seem to be any fresh harm done by the harpoon-weapon. Few of the other cultists who had used the weapons had survived the experience, and those that had lived would never use their arms again. Liliana explained solemnly that for a Rakdos cultist, such an injury was in itself was a sentence to exile, or death. A large river flowed behind her as she talked, travelling between carved concrete banks bearing the seals of Azorius work orders. The glowing runes that had appeared on her body during the battle had faded: at first Sorin had assumed they were a product of the barrier-spell, but now, with the chaos of battle behind him, something was troubling him. In his mind he recalled the stories he’d once known by heart, the tales of dark pacts with demonic forces, the price of which would be visible only when the Black Original used her great powers. Such was the beginning of the title ‘Demon-Born’.
“Those runes…” he began to say, then stopped himself. Liliana stiffened visibly, but said nothing for a short time. Finally she spoke with carefully chosen words.
“We all make… sacrifices, in order to survive.” Sorin pulled the sleeve of his cloak tighter around his damaged arm as the words hit home. They talked through the night, but said nothing more on the subject. At one time she offered to explain to him some of the language of her people. It was complicated, despite its primitive appearance.
“It’s called Zenkaril,” she said. “It means ‘tongue of the first world’. That’s what Zendikar is to my people, the first and only world. On no other plane will you find creatures like them: even here, on Ravnica, vampires are cruel, sadistic creatures that hunt humans for pleasure. My people don’t feed on humans, and hunt animals only for food.” Suddenly she paused, as though something unpleasant had entered her mind.
“There is something you need to know, about the White Planeswalker you met in the vault.” Her words were slow, calculated. “His name, Eldranis, it is a Zenkaril word, but one I had not heard in some time before he arrived. It is similar to ‘Eldrazi,’ only it does not refer to a group, like the monsters we are facing. ‘Eldranis’ is used to talk about one person, but instead of Bringer of Fire, it has the meaning ‘Bringer of Death’.” Sorin was silent as he considered why the mysterious Planeswalker had chosen such a dark title, and from the language of a group of creatures so fiercely tied to Black mana. Again he recalled those eyes, black like his own. So many things did not make sense.
Arriving back at the caverns just before dawn they found the blood-witch in a state of excited exasperation. Apparently Lyzolda had worked through the night to contain the power her machine had collected. As the Planeswalkers entered she approached holding in outstretched arms a large, heavy canister, which she seemed pleased to be rid off. It was adorned with a carved stone skull, similar to the larger ones decorating the caves. When he was near enough Sorin felt the mana in the skull softly pulsing, a familiar sensation he felt from other magic artefacts. The skull was a seal, like the star-shaped one Eldranis had broken in Orzhova.
“That is just a sample of what we collected” she explained hurriedly. “There’s enough energy left in the device to power the whole city for a year, probably longer!” It was clear to everyone that that would most likely never happen: the witch doubtlessly had hundreds of experiments lined up which could benefit from a near-limitless source of magical power. Examining the canister, Liliana’s excitement matched Lyzolda’s.
“This is it!” she cried aloud. “We must return to Zendikar at once!”
Sorin turned to the witch in shock: “It’s a weapon?!”
“The most powerful one I have ever seen!” she answered quickly. “It is released when the seal is broken. Just don’t be anywhere near it when it is broken… another world would be good.” She finished with a smirk.
Sorin made a resigned face before looking back at Liliana: all thoughts of Eldranis and the Sword of Ajani seemed very far from her mind now. Again he found himself wondering what his actual role in these struggles between demi-gods would be. Meanwhile Lyzolda seemed to have regained some composure.
“Your portals have been prepared,” she said calmly. “I have not seen to them myself but we have very good enchanters here. You will have very smooth journeys.”
Sorin voted to avoid Rakdos, thinking of his left arm and not expecting the demon’s mood to be entirely favourable. Both women agreed quickly. They walked hurriedly to the cavern which had been set aside for their Planeswalks. Liliana placed the capsule safely in the leather pouch beside her dagger, took only a moment to thank Lyzolda for all her help and stepped through her portal. Checking the straps on his own scabbard, which still held the golden sword he had used in the fight against Rakdos, he stepped into his own. Once through the portal, Sorin felt the cold, empty embrace of the Void Realms overcome him, breaking down his body, his mind, and absorbing him. Within moments his consciousness too would fade, awaiting its rebirth on a distant world.
Zendikar opened up in front of him before his mind had fully collected. He was aware only of the bright light in the darkness and the faint smells in the wind, though he could not yet feel the air. He always liked this part, which he referred to as the anticipation. One by one his senses gathered to their former owner, sight, smell, sound and… pain! Incredible waves of pain shot through his body as he was still reforming. Unable to defend himself, unable to think, Sorin tried to comprehend what kind of enemy could be assaulting him within a Walk. To his knowledge not even the Originals could perform such attacks. The smells disappeared and the images in front of him became a blur. Through the pain he got the sense he was moving – not drifting through the void but rather being somehow pulled with great force. Without warning the images refocused and Zendikar appeared from nowhere as if oblivion were welcoming him. He was still moving, but no longer being pulled: he was falling! The Planeswalk had dropped him out of the sky! Sorin had seconds to summon the mana needed for a vanish. He saw the topmost branches of the forest fly past his face and knew he was out of time. The spell was cast and he reappeared a few feet above the ground, landing with a heavy crash. He lay there for several minutes cursing whatever mindless Rakdos magic had caused such a near fatal journey.
Slowly the bruised Planeswalker rose to his feet and began to examine his surroundings. It was a section of forest that was somehow unusual, but familiar. He remembered seeing some of the nearby landmarks when he had flown over with the vampire hunting party. Turning around, he felt the breath fly out of his chest. Two feet from where he stood the tree-line ended, not onto a grassy field but onto a stretch of black, burned wasteland that carried on into the distance from the north to south, flanked by forest on either side.
It was more than a day’s walk back to the village. Usually, the very forests of the plane were capable enough to devour any unwanted guests, making such a journey by land next to impossible. Sorin despaired at the irony that whatever destructive force had caused the great scar-like track down the centre of the forest had also sent any hunting creatures very, very far away, thus granting him safe passage for possibly the first and only time in the history of Zendikar.
Eventually he arrived at the swampland that should have been the home to a thriving community of nomadic vampires waiting for the return of their Queen. What he saw instead was little more than the piles of ash from the great bonfires. Every tent, weapon and supply had been packed and moved. Only one structure remained: the lookout tower from which Liliana had shown him his first glimpse of the Eldrazi. A fire burned at its peak, bidding Sorin forward. He took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the heavy door leading to the balcony. There, staring out towards the north, was a man he recognised as belonging to Liliana’s court. At the time of their meeting, he had been the only vampire not holding a weapon. The talismans he wore and apparent pacifism marked him as an advisor, rather than a warrior, though the scars on his skin indicated that this had not always been the case. He spoke without turning around, as though something important might appear on the empty horizon at any moment, and he would not dare miss it.
“Just as I am preparing to give up hope, you arrive.” The vampire spoke the language of the Ravnica commons, though heavily accented, no doubt taught to him by Liliana herself. “My name is Anowon,” he continued. “I am the personal advisor to our Queen. At least, I was…”
Sorin felt immediately short of breath. Gathering his thoughts he tried to find the most important questions to ask first. “Where is Liliana Vess?” he finally asked.
Whatever potential visage had thus far held the advisor’s gaze was suddenly less important than their conversation. When he turned, Sorin saw the fierce, powerful eyes of an ancient being, though his vampire blood kept the years from appearing on his face.
“That is precisely the question I have been waiting all this time to ask you.”
Planeswalkers are not immune to fear, and fear gripped him now, primal and deep. Worse than an enemy like Rakdos or the Eldrazi, this was fear of the unexpected, of their unknown, and of the potential for the worst.
“She stepped through the portal moments before I did. We should have arrived together…”
“And yet, you didn’t!” Anowon’s voice was desperate now, as though there were an urgency he was struggling to communicate. “She arrived more than a week ago. By then, the Eldrazi had set their sights upon the forests. Whether they knew we were in hiding here or not it did not matter. Without the weapon, we stood defenceless.”
“She had a weapon, the power of the Original of Fire, Chandra!”
“Yes, yes, this she said to us.” Anowon was shaking his head now, as if trying to collect himself. “There was great cheer, and many brave warriors offered their lives to help destroy the Eldrazi.”
Confusion raged in Sorin, like a whirlwind that hid at its core some reason why he should have arrived more than a week behind her, causing him to fall through the Void while here on Zendikar a tragedy he did not yet understand unfolded. The vampire continued unbidden:
“Liliana chose two riders who had not mates, nor young, and sent them with the strongest mounts. At dawn they took the weapon to where the destruction was loudest, to kill the Eldrazi.” His voice lowered as despair overcame him. “We waited but the fire was never released. That night the Eldrazi moved into the forests, burning the great trees as though they were saps!”
“What about Liliana?!” Only she could make sense of any of this, he thought.
“At the first light of the next day, she left with two priestesses. She said she would find the riders, and trigger the weapon herself.” Sorin made to speak, but Anowon waved him down.
“Again we waited, but again there is no fire. This time I give the order to pack the village and leave. I chose to stay behind to wait for her. As I watch, the Eldrazi burn through the forest, up towards the goblin mountains. They move slowly where there is great life – it takes many days. Then you arrive.”
Finding support on the rail of the balcony, Sorin looked out on the red mountains in the distance, and for the first time saw them alighted with the burning glow that had raged in the fields on his last arrival to Zendikar. He stood silent, struggling to find the words to make sense of Anowon’s story.
The vampire village was deserted, the forest was being burned piece by piece and Liliana was missing. Worst of all was the knowledge that, had he arrived when he had meant to, there would likely have been nothing he could have done to change any of it. Stubbornly he tried to push this thought from his mind, to tell himself that he still had some part to play in finding out what had happened to Liliana and to help her however she needed. It was then that the sound of hard shoes on the stairs below rang out in the tower. The pair of them turned with shock at the man emerging slowly from the doorway. He was dressed in blue, with a large hood coving the top of his face, which he kept low as he spoke.
“Hello Sorin. It’s good to see you again.”