Heart of the Gemini

Herald

As the cloudy night descended over Zendikar the vampires worked with practiced speed on their new camp. They had chosen a large clearing at the forest’s edge for its proximity to the sea, and after five days of travel they had finally arrived. There was to be a week of feasting as all manner of fish and sea life was brought in from the water. For many, it would be their first time eating sea creatures, and the excitement was palpable. Rumour quickly spread of an enormous kraken that was said to be hiding in the depths, but conversation on the topic inevitably degraded into violent argument over what such a thing would taste like. Practiced or not, moving such a large group was always a demanding task – but it was a distraction for which Sorin was grateful.
He had kept a close watch on Liliana, suffering the occasional dark look whenever she caught him. Neither had mentioned the strange events of the morning in the mountains, and still she seemed to be barely sleeping. Once he found her lying perfectly still, wide awake but unmoving. When he called her name she had blinked as she’d done on the clifftop, recognition slowly replacing the emptiness in her eyes. Before long he would have no choice but to confront her directly, he decided.
On the third night, a lieutenant from her private guard appeared before them, speaking Zenkaril.
“Malkirin. Olo klia, a-tel eltorn siaya.”
Liliana had smirked when the vampires first began referring to Sorin as ‘Malkirin.’ It translated directly as ‘consort,’ as the tribe had always been ruled by Queens, and thus this was the role their male companions had traditionally fulfilled. But a decade had now passed, and the word had come to mean something closer to ‘Khan,’ though in truth Sorin exercised very little real authority. Tonight, the lieutenant was reporting a strange creature – a bird, or ‘olo’ – flying around the camp.
“Tel olo magika. Vishia-koa-n.”
All attempts to bring the magical bird to ground had failed. Sorin answered only that the news was understood, as there was no word in Zenkaril for ‘thanks.’ Momentarily pushing his concerns for Liliana aside, he began walking in the direction of a large crowd throwing pointed objects into the air.

Flying in wide circles was a beautiful bird made entirely of blue light. The spears the vampires threw never touched it, merely reflecting soft hews as they passed through. The cries from the crowd were a mixture of competitive cheers and frustrated shouts: some had made a sport of hunting the bird, the rest simply wanted to eat it. The bird continued its journey unhindered, showing no signs it was even aware of their presence. For his part, Sorin was content simply to watch the strange event unfold, and stood quietly until he heard the soft, familiar footfalls of Liliana coming up behind him.
The Queen made no effort to stop the ridiculous performance, though Sorin sensed she did not entirely approve. In any case, the bird was clearly a creature of mana, and as such, could not sustain itself indefinitely. Sooner or later it would run its course, fade, and finally blink into nothingness. The pair shared a knowing look before turning to leave the mass to their pointless entertainment.
All at once the shouts exploded from behind them. Still on their heels they saw the mana-bird dive in their direction. Liliana’s guards appeared in an instant, but the strange creature passed through them like a ghost. It came to rest in a soft landing, on long legs that shone clear like polished glass. It stood perfectly still for a matter of moments, outshining the lights of the torches while the crowd looked on in stunned silence.
Sorin stared at the strange bird. There was something troublingly familiar about it. Its glass-like eye stared back at him, and for a moment he thought he could hear a voice inside his head. It was a woman’s voice, but not one he recognised. He heard her say only his name, and then she was gone.
Finally the bird released a soft call and withdrew into itself, until the very light that formed it collapsed into a tight ball. Briefly it hovered in the still air, before falling gently into the dirt. The nearest guard moved to pick up the orb, then swore in Zenkaril as it vaporised into a plume of blue smoke. The rest of the guards quickly dismissed the rabble, which was still arguing over whether or not strange light-birds were edible. Meanwhile, Liliana reached out to Sorin, who was still watching the blue smoke drift away.
“You know what that was?” she said. She was stating a fact, not asking a question.
“Yes,” he replied. “And that alone is enough to be sure it was meant for me. It was a moon-heron, a magical device… from Innistrad.” Liliana stiffened at the name. They both had their secrets, and while she wore hers in the ring of runes along her neck, his were buried deep on his home plane.
“It’s a beacon,” he continued, “Used by mages to locate someone or something and mark their position for teleporting… but there should be no one on Zendikar who has this magic.”
“A Planeswalker perhaps?”
“I have never heard of the herons being used across planes; but with enough mana, I supposed it’s not impossible.”
A dark look crossed Liliana’s face. “Should we order the camp to be moved?” she asked finally.
“I don’t think that would help. Besides, whoever sent it went to a lot of trouble to find me: I say we wait and see who it is.”
“If you’re sure.” She sounded less than convinced, but the heron was his threat, and therefore his decision. “We’ll wait.”

For two further nights ther feasts were carried out without interruption. A thunderous mixture of celebration and argument filled the air, complete with spontaneous duelling and other random acts of violence. For the first time in a long while Liliana seemed to be enjoying herself, and Sorin felt himself start to relax. He had almost forgotten about the mysterious bird entirely when word reached the pair of them in their chamber: a mysteriously light had appeared as if from nowhere inside the great hall.
Sorin was grinning slightly as they made their way across the compound. He had been right to wait, whatever happened next. It was a small victory perhaps, but living amongst vampires one learned to appreciate small victories. Inside however, Sorin was nervous: whoever was coming had been to Innistrad. There they had acquired a means of tracking him which they knew he would recognise. Though countless centuries had past, he once again felt his old secrets rising to destroy his new life. Only one thing he knew for sure: there was much you could kill, but history was not one of them.
The entire population of vampires had gathered in a large circle within the now over-crowded dining hall. In the centre stood a bright white light, the shape of a round doorway, roughly the size of a person. Sorin and Liliana recognised the light immediately: it was a portal, and by the look of it, its occupant would be arriving at any moment.
With the crash of breaking thunder and a brilliant flash of light the portal vanished. In its place stood not one, but two figures. The first, a man, was as tall and as broad as any vampire warrior, and was wearing an exceptional suit of armour forged from silver and gold. Next to him stood a woman, draped in opulent robes of black, white and gold cloth. On her face she wore a featureless ivory mask, hiding her features entirely.
White mana fell from the man in waves, travelling the length of the hall and burning at Sorin’s darker half. The vampires felt it too: many growled low in their throats, gripping their weapons tightly. Liliana could feel the tension rising through the crowd. From the appearance of the moon-herald she had been expecting a Blue mage like Jace Balaren. Unlike Green and White, Blue mages were not natural enemies of the Black-mana vampires. Instead, this White mage represented everything her people had fought against for their entire existence.
The woman was a different matter entirely. Try though he did, Sorin could not feel any magic from her whatsoever. It was not unusual for Planeswalkers to abandon their mana when travelling to a new world, but even then, he would have been able to sense something of her innate magical ability. Instead, he felt nothing. More importantly, she seemed to having trouble standing. The soldier put out his arm to steady her but she waved him away, seeming to catch her breath beneath the mask. Only then did the soldier bother to examine his surroundings.
The man looked casually around the room, barely acknowledging the snarling armada and moving only to brush long hair away from his face. To their surprise, he pulled his arm across his chest and bowed deeply in the direction of the Vampire Queen.
“Liliana Vess,” he said, letting the words slip free carefully as though they were toys he was not yet finished playing with. “It is a unique privilege to stand before the Original of Black. And you…” his eyes moved slowly across, “You must be Sorin Markov. We have indeed come a very long way to meet you.”
Liliana and Sorin needed no introductions. The man standing before them was Gideon Jura: a White Planeswalker, a soldier, and the last person anyone expected to see on this side of Zendikar.
Gideon repeated his proclamation, this time in the language of the Zendikar humans. It was a largely wasted effort, for Sorin and Liliana were already familiar with Ravi, the language of the Ravnican commons in which he had spoken, and the vampires spoke only Zenkaril. Sorin saw a smile settle on the soldier’s face, but he could not tell if it was born of confidence or arrogance, or a combination of both.
“What do you want, Jura?” Liliana’s voice was enough to bring her people to attention, even if they didn’t understand her words. “You have no business here.”
The man’s eyes flew back to the Vampire Queen, his smile gone. “Forgive me, Dark One. I am acting in the service of a group I am sure you are most familiar with: the Orzhov Syndicate! They have charged me with the protection of a very important individual…” Gideon raised his arm to indicate the woman standing next to him.
“The Baroness Teysa Karlov!”