Ikoria

by Wizards of the Coast

  We’re going down. Jirina felt numb by the speed everything had shifted. Falk was still screaming at his crew, but Vermilion was doomed, her gasbag unable to lift a hundred tons of monstrous snake. Slowly, but with unstoppable momentum, the ship canted toward the earth.

  Jirina raised the spyglass to her eye one more time as sailors fought and died behind her. She aimed it at the Ozolith’s central crystal, where she’d last seen Lukka. And there he was, wreathed in that same orange fire, eyes ablaze with light, staring right back at her.

  Oh, Lukka. What have you done?

  A brown and white blur filled the lens, and she pulled the spyglass away in time to see the winged cat, coming straight for her. Jirina went for her sword, knowing it was too late, and then the thing’s huge paws slammed into her.

  ***

  Power crackled across Lukka, shifting and popping like static electricity whenever he moved. The crystals on his coat glowed a solid orange and bled sparks.

  His mind was abuzz with activity. He could feel the monsters all around him, the nightmares that had torn the hunters to pieces. Some of them were dying, most of them were wounded, but there were more coming, closing in from farther afield. He reached out to the Ozolith, and the Ozolith reached out to them and bent them to his will, that droning chant rising to a crescendo. They converged on the spot where the skyship had crashed, tearing apart the body of the snake and what remained of its crew.

  Jirina. He sent her image to the nightmares. Do not harm her. Bring her to me.

  Ahead of him, the battlefield was littered with broken pieces of ship and patches of nightmare blood. A pool of bubbling ooze marked where the hunter’s bombs had exploded en masse. Vivien and Barrow stood together beside where Abda had fallen, while Brin was on her knees beside her friend, head bowed. Rol nuzzled her gently from behind, while Zeph sat some distance off, licking her wounds. Rigi’s body lay some distance off, in the wreckage of the longboat.

  “Lukka.” Vivien saw him first and raised her head. “What happened? Did you reach the Ozolith?”

  “I did,” Lukka said. “It…something spoke to me.”

  “Spoke to you?” Vivien saw the orange gleam in his crystals, the power crackling around him, and her eyes widened. “What have you done?”

  “What I had to.” Lukka shook his head. “This fixes everything. The Ozolith has power over the monsters, but it was running wild. Now it’s under my control.”

  Barrow frowned. “That is not the goal we agreed on.”

  “No, it’s better!” Lukka spread his arms. “I can do so much more good for Drannith this way. I wanted to get rid of my bond, but I was blind to possibilities it represented. Abda was right.” He looked down at the dead bonder, still fixed to the ground by the ballista bolt. “This is the future. Control of the monsters, to use them for the good of all.”

  “Control?” Brin looked up, her cheeks streaked with tears. “I don’t control Rol. He’s my friend.”

  “Indeed,” Barrow said. “Zeph is my partner, not my slave.”

  “Call it whatever you like,” Lukka said, waving a hand. “They fight beside you. The Ozolith has granted me the same power, but on a larger scale. If I bring Kudro an army of monsters to fight for the city, how can he call me a traitor?” He grinned.

  “This power,” Vivien said quietly. “You used it to control the nightmares and defeat the hunters?”

  “Of course,” Lukka said. “I saw what happened to Abda. I saved you all.”

  “And what about the monsters?” Vivien said.

  “They threw themselves onto the hunter’s blades,” Barrow said. “With no regard for their lives.”

  “Even Rigi,” Brin said, looking at the wreckage of the longboat and the spiked badger’s bloody corpse.

  “They did what I asked them to do,” Lukka said.

  “Asked?” Vivien said. “Or ordered?”

  “Who gives a damn?” Lukka snapped. “They’re monsters. It’s not like we’re going to run out.”

  Barrow took a step back, and Zeph raised her head, a low growl sounding deep in her throat. Brin slowly got to her feet, hugging Rol’s fluffy foreleg.

  “And where is your monster?” Vivien said. “Where is the winged cat?”

  “I–” Lukka frowned, looking around. He sent his mind out, in search of the familiar presence, but it was hard to feel anything under the thundering power of the Ozolith. “I don’t know.”

  “Lukka.” Vivien’s voice was gentle. “You can still stop this.”

  “Stop it? This is what I was looking for.” Lukka gestured at the two bonders. “Come with me to Drannith. The more monsters we bring, the better. Once we show Kudro the benefits of this new army, you won’t have to live out in the wild anymore, and I can finally go home.”

  “I will not be going to Drannith with you,” Barrow said. “Or anywhere else. And neither will Zeph.”

  “Rol and I would never want to live in some stinking city,” Brin said and sniffed. “You lied to us.”

  Idiots. Lukka glared at the bonders. Though I suppose I don’t need them for my army. Only their monsters–

  He reached out, and the Ozolith responded, power crackling from the crystal into the sky. Orange light played over Zeph and Rol, as it had engulfed Rigi. This time, though, Lukka felt an unexpected resistance, the two monsters pushing back against the droning compulsion with all the strength they had. Brin screamed, high and piercing, clutching Rol tighter. Barrow’s face was tight with pain.

  “He’s…” the girl gasped. “He’s trying to…”

  “Run,” Vivien said, drawing her bow. “Get away from here.”

  “Vivien–” Lukka began.

  “I thought you were a good man, Lukka,” Vivien said, nocking an arrow. Her voice was utterly calm. “But I see that I was wrong.”

  Lukka gave a shout of rage as she fired. He twisted to one side, but the arrow grew in flight until it was a charging elk, antlers lowered as it pounded toward him. Lukka clawed for his sword but couldn’t reach it before the translucent green animal was on him, the impact throwing him into the air like a rag doll.

  He reached out, this time with the Ozolith’s power. Lukka hit the ground and rolled, coming to a stop with a thump against a half-buried boulder. The elk followed, rearing, ready to charge again. He pulled himself up, grinned, teeth bloody, as the animal lowered its head–

  –and the bat-winged nightmare descended on it, bearing it to the ground with a crunch, teeth ripping at its throat. Gouts of green energy sprayed forth in place of blood, and the thing faded into a spray of sparks.

  Slowly, Lukka struggled to his feet. The nightmare crouched in front of him, its mind open to him, nothing but subservient obedience. As it should be.

  Vivien and the bonders were nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t matter. Lukka extended his mental reach, gathering all the nightmares that had guarded the Ozolith, the great crystal flaring bright as power ran through it. A dozen of them responded to his call. A score. More.

  My army.

  Chapter Six

  Jirina awoke and wished she hadn’t.

  Her whole body hurt, head pounding, arms and legs bruised. When she breathed, she felt a sharp pain in her chest that hinted at a broken rib. She was lying on the grassy earth, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d fallen from Vermilion‘s rail and somehow survived. Not possible. The skyship had been high enough up that going over the side would have reduced her body to paste. So where am I?

  The sky was fading from blue to black, so several hours had passed. Jirina shifted, wincing at a spike of pain from her rib, and propped herself up on her elbows. All at once, her breath froze in her throat.

  The monster was right there, not ten feet away. It was the same winged cat that had nearly killed Lukka, brown and white striped with bat-wings folded against its flanks. They were in the gra
sslands, beside a small, fast-flowing stream, and the cat was kneeling beside the water to drink. Jirina watched in horrified fascination as it bent, huge tongue flicking out, for all the world like a housecat grown to the size of a horse and cart.

  It…knocked me off Vermilion, didn’t it? She’d only gotten a glimpse in the spyglass, but she was sure what she’d seen had been the cat’s brown and white fur. Was it trying to kill me? But if it wanted to kill her, surely it would have simply done it by now. Her battered memory gave a prickle. That’s right. Vermilion was going to crash, that snake was pulling it down. Falk and the crew…

  Did this thing save me?

  It seemed absurd. Monsters didn’t rescue humans. At best they were indifferent, at worst actively hostile. But she couldn’t think of another way she could have gotten safely from the deck of the airship to the ground. And, since the Ozolith was no longer in sight, the cat must have carried her quite a ways.

  And it brought me here? Why here? The monster finished drinking and turned to her with big, feline eyes. It blinked, slowly, then looked down at the stream. Back to her, then back to the stream.

  The meaning of the gesture could hardly be clearer. It wants me to drink. And she found that she did need water—she hadn’t been carrying a canteen, and it had been hours. Her lips were cracked and dry.

  But–

  The monster gestured again. Jirina pulled herself up to her knees, groaning.

  “All right,” she said. “All right. I’ll drink. Just…give me a minute.”

  She shuffled to the edge of the stream and dipped her shaking hands into the water. It was clear and cold and tasted finer than wine. Jirina sucked it down from her cupped palms, always keeping one eye on the looming presence of the cat.

  Let’s think about this logically. Monsters didn’t help humans. But this one was…connected to Lukka. He communicated with it. Father said that other humans had bonded with monsters, ‘allied’ with them. It couldn’t be coincidence.

  When she’d drunk her fill, she sat back on her heels and met the thing’s enormous, yellow-eyed gaze.

  “Did Lukka…send you to help me?” she asked it. “Is that what’s happening here?”

  The thing gave no sign of understanding her words. Of course it didn’t. But it didn’t attack her, either, or simply fly off. Instead, it glanced at the creek again, then back at her.

  “Thank you,” Jirina said, feeling absurd. “I’ve had all the water I need.”

  She shuffled away from the creek, and that seemed to spur the monster to action. Her heart double-thumped as it came forward, but it merely bent down, ears flat, offering one huge forepaw. It’s like it wants me to…climb up? Can that be right?

  “Lukka did send you,” Jirina whispered. She’d seen him, just as Vermilion was crashing. “Whatever he’s doing, he wanted to help me, so he sent you to keep me safe.”

  A low, sonorous rumble filled the air. The winged cat, Jirina realized, was purring.

  She had no proof that her half-assed deduction was correct. For all she knew, the thing was just playing a particularly cruel game before it killed and ate her. But there’s nothing to lose. To put it bluntly, she was dead—alone and injured, with no idea where she was and no supplies, in the remotest part of the plains. The chances of finding another human before running into a less polite monster were close to zero, and she certainly couldn’t walk back to Drannith.

  Still, it took considerable willpower before she was able to step forward. Everything she’d ever been taught told her that to be this close to a monster without a weapon in hand was death, but the winged cat held perfectly still, even when Jirina stepped onto the back of its paw and took hold of its fur. With a grunt of pain, she hoisted herself onto its shoulder, then crawled to the small of its back, lying as flat as she could.

  Only when she’d stopped moving did the winged cat rise. Jirina guessed what was about to happen, but she was still unprepared for the power of the thing’s leap, hurling itself skyward with absurd strength. Its wings snapped open, catching the air, and it glided for a few moments before starting slow, powerful flaps that took it higher and higher into the air.

  Jirina held on for dear life, gripping the cat’s fur tightly, but in truth after the initial ascent her position felt secure, even comfortable. She gathered enough courage to raise her head and saw the plains spread out around her like a map, just as they had been from the deck of Vermilion. Somehow here, though, the sensation of flight was more visceral—she could feel the winged cat’s muscles working to keep them in the air. Wind blasted her face, and she put her head down again, burying herself in the monster’s long fur.

  ***

  Jirina even managed to get some sleep, though she kept waking up with a start, convinced she was about to slip off the cat’s back and fall screaming to the ground below. It never happened, though, and they flew on through the night, stopping only once at another stream for her to drink and relieve herself.

  By the time the sun rose in the east, it painted a landscape Jirina recognized. The sheepfolds and forests of the Fourth Ring of Drannith slid underneath, with logging roads leading back into the Third Ring. Ahead, in the distance, she could see the city’s spires rising, with the green spike of the Argalith rising highest of all over the Citadel.

  If we try to get that far, though, we’ll never make it. Drannith’s wall was equipped with dozens of ballistae and protected by the magic of the Arcane Corps, specifically to prevent flying monsters from making it anywhere near the city. If the cat doesn’t understand that, we’re both going to get skewered.

  She wasn’t entirely certain how to get its attention. In the end she crawled forward onto its shoulder and grabbed one of its ears, which earned her a subdued yowl of protest. When it looked back her way, she pointed toward the ground with both hands.

  “Down,” she said, as though speaking to a small child. “Come on. Dooooown. We have to land.” They were already over the Third Ring and its forts. Beyond that was the secondary wall, not as formidable as the main defenses but still equipped with ballistae and crossbow troops. “Come on, please. I don’t want anybody to get shot here. Down.”

  She doubted it understood her words, but something about the frantic gestures seemed to get across. The cat started losing altitude, but slowly, too slowly. She could see the secondary wall, and the soldiers there had certainly seen her. Tiny figures scrambled.

  Oh, hells. They were going to open fire. Of course they were. Firing on monsters is what the defenses were for.

  “Down!” she screamed at the cat. “Let me off! Now!”

  A ballista fired with a distant crack. The cat veered sideways, and the missile hurtled past well wide. The monster went into a dive, gaining speed, and suddenly the ground and the wall were approaching at shocking speed. Another ballista cracked but far too late. Jirina was more worried about the troops, who lined the wall with weapons cocked, waiting for the cat to come into range. The smaller bolts wouldn’t do much damage to the monster, but they could certainly be deadly to her.

  “Hey!” she screamed, as loudly as she could. Whatever was broken in her chest gave her a spike of pain. She gritted her teeth and waved her arms. “Hold fire! Hold your bloody fire!”

  The cat was going for a landing on the wall. Gods above. It flared its wings, killing most of its speed, and making itself a perfect target.

  Two dozen crossbows thrummed. Jirina pressed herself low, knowing it wouldn’t be enough, and then found herself sliding across the cat’s fur as it twisted in midair, putting the bulk of its body between her and the shooters. She heard the thunk of bolts hitting flesh, and the cat flapped its wings desperately to stabilize itself. Too late—she’d overbalanced, and her grip on its fur wasn’t strong enough to keep her from sliding off its back entirely. For a moment she dangled against its flank, then two hanks of fur came away in her hands and she was falling.
<
br />   It wasn’t a long fall, in the scheme of things, but she took it badly, coming down hard on her back against the unforgiving stone of the wall. Something shifted in her chest, and she felt like someone had slipped a knife into her, leaving it where it cut with every breath. She coughed, and a mist of blood sprayed from her lips. Behind her, the winged cat made an ungainly landing, thrown off by the mid-air maneuver that had saved her life. Its side and belly were stuck full of crossbow bolts.

  “Don’t…fire.” Jirina rolled over, pulled her knees under her, tried to rise. “Don’t kill it. Don’t. I am Captain Jirina, daughter of General Kudro.” She coughed again. “Capture this monster. Don’t…kill…”

  “Captain?” someone said. The voice was distant.

  Jirina tried to get to her feet, but something gave way inside her, and blood gouted from her mouth, splashing on the stone. Her strength vanished, and she slumped forward. The last thing she heard as darkness took her was the sound of booted footsteps.

  ***

  “Captain?” The voice was calm. “Can you hear me?”

  Jirina opened her eyes again.

  She was in the Citadel infirmary. Not the same room where Lukka had been, where all this had started, but another just like it, with a single bed for an important patient. A doctor whose robe bore the insignia of the Arcane Corps stood beside her, watching her eyes.

  “Jirina?” he repeated. “Just nod.”

  She nodded, blearily. Her pain had gone, replaced with a numbness that somehow felt even worse. The doctor smiled.

  “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “You had quite an adventure, apparently. Broken ribs, punctured lung, a few other bits and pieces out of place. But we’ll sort it all out, don’t worry.”