Mapmaking

The first thing I felt was the cool, hard floor against my check. The second was a sharp pain at the base of my skull. As I became aware of my own consciousness, I opened my eyes to take in the surroundings. A pale orange glow dimly lit the room. As the mist of sleep lifted from my vision, I became aware that I was not free to move. Bound by rope, my feet and hands were tied together behind my back, like a captured beast. I tried to free myself, teasing the rope with both foot and hand. At first, I thought I may get somewhere, but all my work yielded me were burns from the rope digging into my skin. Frustrated, I tried a different route. I swung back and forth in an attempt to sit up; I manage to go from side to stomach. Riding on the wave of that small success, I tried to get erect, but couldn’t. After what seemed like the thousandth time, I resigned to my position on my stomach, stopping to catch my breath and think.

I took inventory of my surroundings as my eyes adjusted to the poor lighting, wiggling and rolling around to take in the entire room. It was a small stone room, with only one entrance. The wooden door that guarded it was rotted and cracked, barely a door at all. The only other furnishings, other than cobwebs in the corners, were a table, stool, and two burning torches on opposing walls. The stool was made of the same class of wood as the door, rotten through. The table, however, was different. It was plain, just a slate of wood on four legs, but it looked like it was just built. The wood was perfect, without any sign of rot, even within the damp cell. I thought nothing of it until I saw a rat that skittered to the cracks avoid it, preferring to walk closer to me than the table. They were afraid. I couldn’t see from my seat on the floor, but I became aware of the danger. Only one thing could teach fear to vermin. Dark Magic.

When my gaze dropped from the table, I saw a dark blemish on the floor. I quickly rolled to my side, thinking that it was blood, but then I saw that it wasn’t a blot. It was a series of lines that traced the floor, more purple than red. It drew out symbols that were past my comprehension. After looking at the room, I laid back down in the most comfortable position I could manage and tried to deal with a headache cause by the hit to the head. I forced myself to clear my head and breath. After a while of this exercise, the dull throb subsided, leaving me free to think once more. My memories were still hazy, and I had no idea how I got here, so I started from the beginning.

A year ago, Zendikar was as it had always been. It had its heroes and its villains, with awesome wonders and dangerous beasts. Then, the world awoke. The ground began to rumble as mountains and ravines were formed in a matter of minutes. Great cities and forest alike tumbled down. Land and sea were torn asunder, and the balance of the land with it. It was then that the great angel Iona and the Kor council convened. They decided that to deal with this cataclysm, they needed to know what they were dealing with. For that, they needed new maps. That’s where I came in. As part of the cartography guild, I had dedicated my life to the art of mapmaking, and now it was time to put my skills to use. I was sent to the great Elvish Forrest, a place older than words themselves. The Elves and the Kor had always been on friendly terms, and when I reached the fringes of their territory, I found no trouble in requiting guides to lead me through their forest.

Once, where I could be led by worn maps and trails, only a skilled guide could direct me. The earth had been uprooted, deformed under the sheer weight of the event. I saw trees the size of towns thrown from their roots, leaving gaping holes in their place. I now had only carnage to follow. The land was wrinkled, with deep valleys and jagged peaks, all leading up to one great mount. Before, the largest tree in Zendikar rested there, taking up a tenth of the forest in its massive canopy, but it had been shattered, along with the magic it contained. Shards of tree and root floated above the air, tethered to the ground by the vines that once hung from their branches. Where the great tree once stood, there was an abyss, its bottom hidden by its depths.

It was the greatest destruction I had ever seen, something so powerful that it molded the landscape itself like a child with clay. Something was awakening, shattering the moral realm in the process. Drawing by candle light at night, and with the help of some Elvish scouts, I managed to remap the great forest. From there, I had to go to the Marsh. It was one of the few places in the world where both swamp and forest coincided in harmony. The result was water that normal creatures could not live off of. No outside animal could survive long; nothing outside the marsh could eat from it. Some would only make you sick, while others could kill Kor within the blink of an eye. A place of poison.

The land there had also stirred, but on a much smaller scale and with greater number. When I got there, I saw the land spotted with miniature versions of the great forest, some forming on the mud floor and others in the murky water, dotting the land. I had to be careful, however, even excluding the wildlife. The marsh was close to the tribal Vampires, a race at war with the Kor for generations. They would kill me for food and hate, and I was not looking to die.

My progress was slow. The land itself seemed eager to devour me as its bogs swallowed each footstep. After a hard day of trudging through puddle after puddle, I finally found a large enough rocky area to make camp. I lit a fire, and set out to work on my map, tracking my progress against maps made years before. I was lost in thought, staring at a chart made years ago when I felt a sharp pain on my neck. I was conscious just long enough to saw “Ouch”.

And here I was, sprawled on the floor, my legs and arms bound by coarse rope. Coming back to the present, I realized how hungry I was, and tried once again to free myself, once again to no avail. It just caused the rope to dig further into my skin, so I decided against any more pointless struggling. I fell back into the most comfortable position I could manage and waited for an opening. What seemed like hours past as I slipped in and out of a fevered sleep. After my third attempt at restful sleep, however, I heard creaking from behind me.

Someone was opening the door hidden behind me and I had a second to decide whether or not I wanted to be awake or not. I choose not. I let my limbs fall loose, forcing my breathing to replicate sleep. Squinting out of the eye not flat on the floor, I saw her. I knew instantly that she was a vampire; I had seen enough of them on my travels to pick them out. They all had a particular aura about them that was the similar, yet opposite of angels. They were both the brightest things in any room, but while angels illuminated a room, vampires sucked the light out, making the world around them darker. I could see the glow of the torches fade away in front of her person. Raven tendrils of hair cascaded down from head to hip, covering most of her slimming black attire. Her feet were bare and covered in red runic lines, crawling up her leg and disappearing under her tunic. Even from the floor, she seemed small, but experience told me that she was dangerous enough.

I couldn’t see her face or front as she faced away from me. She was at the table, as the clanking of mortal on pestle indicated that she was mixing something, giving me the sudden feeling of terror about the runes on the floor. Her work dragged on as she fiddled with her mixture when the door opened again, this time slamming into the wall accompanied by a gust of air. She turned around and I saw her face. It was traced with lines, just as her legs were, and made figures I did not understand. Her pale skin highlighted the dullness of her eyes.

“Hexmage,” a voice boomed. I could see a twinge of fear in her dead purple eyes. “How goes the sacrifice?” That was never a good word. I forced myself to stay calm, making sure my breathing didn’t give me away.

“All goes well Master Anowon,” vampire replied, giving a stiff bow. Damn, this is not good. Anowon was a vampire that even Iona and her band of Lightkeepers feared. Stories of his deeds were told to scare children, but this wasn’t a story.

“Good,” the voice curtly replied. “Here is the last ingredient needed for the Ritual of the Rise.” A sack sailed over me as the Hexmage reach out to catch it. She drew the string and looked inside.

“What is it?”

“It is a sliver that Lord Sorin gathered. It is similar enough to the Eldrazi found in Zendikar.” Eldrazi! I had to draw a sharp breath to stop myself from crying out in shock. They were the race of gods of old. Lore told that the only force that rivaled the clan was Zendikar itself, and one day, a hero rose to champion against them. He sealed the race in the bowls of the land, never to awaken again. But that was just a story. That had to be true. It had to. “Get to it woman.” The door slammed behind him, leaving the Hexmage to her work.

She lifted the creature out of the bag, an orange worm of sorts, smaller than a wurm, but larger than any snake on Zendikar. Its head was lined with scales of silver, mimicking a blade on its head, drawing it to a point at the nose. Two limp blades hung on each side, serving as arms. The bottom fanned out into two tails, with dark fluid dripping off each. The Hexmage held it for a minute, giving a strange look of both fascination and repulsion, turning it over to take in the strange shape. After holding it out in front of here, she faced back around, bring the creature with her, putting it on the table. She worked, but unlike before, she started to chant, a dull mummer at first, but rising to a point where I thought my struggle wouldn’t grab her attention.

Anowon. Eldrazi. It was too much, I had to get out. I started to strain against my bonds, praying that I just need to tease it a little more to gain my freedom. I had no idea how I would escape with vampires stalking the halls, but that came second. I would get out and then strangle her from behind, taking the sharpest tool for my weapon. My breathing increased from stress as I felt the tie around my left hand starting to give. I started to focus my efforts there when the chanting stopped with her turning to me with a chilling smile.

“Struggling will bear you no fruit, Kor.” In her left hand was a crude knife, more of a sharpened metal lashed to a wooden handle than a proper weapon. I looked at her, asking for mercy with my eyes. I found no reply in her dead eyes, as she tilted the bowl over, letting the dark liquid fall to the floor like syrup. I pooled for a second before it was sucked into the runes, causing them to glow. The room started to hum as the Hexmage joined it. My heart raced as I frantically tugged at my bonds, pulling hard enough to tear my skin as the rope moved. Finally, as her chant rose to a guttural screaming, I managed to get the rope over the thickest part of my hand as it fell free.

I did it. My life was mine again. I thought I would live, but as I placed my hand on the ground to rise up, I felt the cold steel my back. It pushed me back to the floor, tearing through me on the way. It hurt, as the vampire pulled it out, only to drive it back in, again and again. I screamed at first, tears streaming down my face, but I soon lost my voice as my vision gave away. Not even the brightness of the floor could fight the darkness. As I closed my eyes for good, words flashed before the darkness. “Infinite, Butcher, Thorns.” Those were my last thoughts before I was cast off into the void.