by Ari Marmell
But that was fine, too. The thought of finishing the fight in person, planeswalker to planeswalker, brought a wolfish grin to the artificer’s face.
Tezzeret took three running steps and leaped. The hall’s surviving cables reached out, propelling him along or yanking sheets of steel from the wall to shield him from the bursting metal and hissing steam. Tucking into a forward roll as he cleared the length of the hall, he began to cast. The artificer landed in a crouch mere feet before his enemy, his etherium hand already darting out to parry the shrapnel Jace had telekinetically hurled at him as he came. In that metal grip Tezzeret clutched a fistful of sand, glowing visibly with prior enchantments and the power of the spell he pumped into it now.
His fist tightened further, and the particles sifted from between his fingers, pouring into the air and swirling around both combatants, an embryonic dust devil that swiftly grew into a raging whirlwind. Long after the initial fistful was expended, the sand continued to flow, to whip about them, until cloak and hair thrashed wildly and all sight of the surrounding hall was obscured.
Jace felt the temperature rise into a baking heat that lay heavily upon him and brought an instant sweat to his skin. Even as he readied a counterspell intended to shield him from the worst of the pounding heat, he felt the rigidity of the metal beneath him give way to the unstable shifting of the desert floor. The sandstorm faded to reveal an endless expanse of wastes, only the very tip of Tezzeret’s tower visible over the distant horizon. Despite the warmth Jace tugged the hood of his cloak over his face, shielding his watering eyes from the brightness of the midday sun.
Fully prepared for the teleportation, Tezzeret was of course far less unsettled by the sudden shift than was his enemy. Even as Jace reeled, blinking away his disorientation, the artificer raised fists of metal and flesh. A wall of molten glass burst from the sands between them, sending Jace tumbling away as it slashed at his flesh and burned away the tips of his hair and the ragged hem of his cloak.
He staggered to his feet, fighting for balance on the shifting dunes, and the desert came alive behind him. A dozen tiny metal orbs rained earthward, bursting as they fell, and from beneath them rose a lumbering giant made of nothing but sand. Its limbs didn’t bend so much as constantly reshape themselves to any desired angle as it glided across the desert to smash the artificer’s foe.
Jace sank swiftly beneath the sands, plummeting through a tunnel burrowed by telekinetic force akin to the spell he’d used to fly, back on Ravnica, and the sand-golem’s fists struck nothing but earth. And then he was flying; Jace burst from the desert floor and soared into the azure sky, arms outstretched and crackling with power. Behind him the air rippled and split, a gulf from elsewhere, from which appeared a pair of winter drakes and the familiar sphinx. The drakes instantly dived upon the beast of sand, struggling to immobilize it into a lifeless statue with bursts of frigid breath, while Jace dropped onto the sphinx’s back and plummeted in a screaming dive toward Tezzeret himself.
Tezzeret let them come, watching, waiting. He hurled a few projectiles, spinning discs that crackled with necromantic energy and would have sucked the life from the sphinx as swiftly as one of Liliana’s spells. The beast avoided them easily, but then he’d expected her to. Only at the last, when her claws were instants from his flesh, when she was rolling back into line after dodging the last of his attacks, did he cast once more.
The sands erupted into jagged blades of glass and stone, teeth sprouted by the earth itself to feed a ravenous hunger. The sphinx shrieked as the barrier tore through fur and flesh, ripping her apart even as it held her fast. Jace tumbled over her head and slammed hard to the ground. He looked up, dazed; and the sphinx stared down, her expression vaguely accusing, before the life drained from her eyes and her body faded slowly away.
Jace tried to rise and failed, toppling over when his arm simply refused to support him. The entire left side of his body was horribly bruised, and he wondered how many bones he might have cracked in the fall. Exhaustion threatened to blind him, and he knew that his reserves were sufficient for only a few more spells.
Beyond the nearest dune, the golem of sand had cracked apart beneath the arctic assault, but one of the drakes had given its life, and even as the other raced to aid its master, it flew an erratic path on torn and battered wings. And stalking across the sands came Tezzeret, arcs of power crackling between his mechanical fingers; tireless, relentless, seeming no weaker now for all his spells than he had been the moment Jace attacked.
And Jace knew, even through his burning rage and down to the core of his soul, that this was no longer a fight he could win.
He could, however, survive. He knew where the bastard’s sanctum was, now, and knew as well that he had nobody he could trust on his side. With time to recover, to lick his wounds, to find new weapons, he could come back—he would come back.
Jace focused his attentions on the space around the artificer, and a trio of winter drakes dropped from the sky. That they were merely illusory, for he dared not spend the mana necessary to summon them afresh, was irrelevant. Tezzeret couldn’t afford to ignore them, for among them was the surviving drake, a very real threat. And indeed he halted his advance, casting spells of protection against the cold he knew was coming.
It bought time, that was all, but that was all Jace needed. Distracted as he was by the drakes, Tezzeret could not see his opponent cast a net of illusion over himself, blending in with the desert sands. Then, summoning the last of his reserves, Jace had the long moments he needed to draw together the surrounding threads of mana and begin to walk.
Slowly, too slowly, the curtain of haze materialized before him and Jace stumbled through. His last sight was of Tezzeret standing amid a whirling wall of illusory wings, and removing a dark globe from a pouch on his belt, doubtless a weapon he’d never get to use.
As the chaos of the Eternities pummeled him, Jace breathed a sigh of relief. Even if Tezzeret had seen him go, even if he’d slain the drake the moment Jace vanished, it would take him minutes if not hours to follow, and by then Jace would be long—
Tendrils of entropy and probability rippled, coiling upward and in on themselves, and Tezzeret stood before him, a vicious grin on his face and a vile gleam in his eye. No hesitation, no delay—he was simply there. In all the Blind Eternities, nothing had ever shocked Jace more thoroughly. He stared at the artificer’s soul, an abomination of blood and metal, of hatred and greed, and he could not move.
It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t…
Tezzeret clutched Jace by the collar and shoved, muscles and magic working in tandem to carry them back through the barrier of worlds. They reappeared a dozen feet above the desert floor and crashed painfully to the ground.
Jace, too stunned by the sudden assault even to draw breath, felt the remaining air rush from his lungs, felt fire flash across the back of his head at the impact, and then the blinding light of the desert went mercifully black.
As Jace gradually, awoke, an armada of aches and pains laying siege to his body, his first thought was to wonder if he should be surprised that he still lived. He decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and cracked open his eyelids.
He lay on a pallet of old straw, its needles poking him unpleasantly. He was naked, save for his trousers, and so badly bruised and beaten that he looked as though he’d been rolling in purple paint. One side of his current quarters was a solid wall of metal; thick bars of a matte-gray alloy formed the other three. Other than the pallet and a cracked clay chamber pot, the cell was featureless. He couldn’t even see an obvious door, locked or otherwise.
The place probably smelled, too, but over his own stale sweat, he couldn’t tell.
The cell itself stood at one end of a large metal chamber, equally featureless, with a single heavy door on the far wall. Jace was pretty certain he was somewhere within Tezzeret’s sanctum, but beyond that, he couldn’t be sure of a damn thing.
Staggering to his feet with a series of pained grunts, Jace
wobbled over and tapped a knuckle on a bar. Solid, very solid, but not as cold as he’d have expected. It wasn’t etherium, but neither was it typical iron or steel.
But of course, Tezzeret wouldn’t have been even remotely so stupid as to try to keep a planeswalker in a normal cell, would he?
Just to be sure, and because he felt as though he should at least make the effort, Jace summoned his will, to walk, to cast a spell, to do something.
Nothing. He might as well have harbored no Spark at all, might as well never have heard of magic or mana.
“Ah, excellent. You’re awake!”
The door had slid open without a whisper, and Baltrice stood framed within. She sauntered to the cell, wearing perhaps the cruelest grin Jace could ever recall seeing.
“Fascinating, don’t you think?” she said, tapping on the bars with Jace’s manablade before replacing the weapon at her own waist. “Another little secret we, um, borrowed from the Church of the Incarnate Soul. The bars are enchanted to absorb mana, Beleren. Inside, for all practical purposes, magic doesn’t exist.”
He sneered at her, crossing his arms over his bare chest. She chuckled and aimed a finger toward the wall at his left. The metal shimmered, flickered, and Tezzeret’s face appeared.
“Why am I alive?” Jace asked bluntly, refusing to give the bastard a moment to gloat.
Tezzeret merely lapsed into a thoughtful expression. “I believe I’ve explained to you on past occasions how poorly I take betrayal, have I not?”
Jace rolled his eyes.
“You are alive,” the artificer said, “partly because I want to give you some time to truly comprehend the depths of my disappointment—but mostly because I require a few months to complete my arrangements for you. You see, Beleren, since I’ve actually managed to take you alive, I’ve decided your talents are too valuable to waste. Mind-reading is a precious commodity indeed.
“So if I cannot trust an agent to perform such tasks for me, I’ll simply have to construct a device to do so. An artifact that will preserve and manipulate the portions of your brain that allow for such wonders.”
Despite himself, Jace felt the urge to fall back from the image on the wall.
“I should think,” the artificer said with an oily grin, “that if I build the device just right, I can retain enough of your persona that you’ll remain conscious and aware of what’s happened to you, without the slightest ability to do anything about it.”
Baltrice leaned in toward the bars, enjoying her captive’s fear, no matter how hard he sought to mask it.
“You’ll try to escape, of course,” Tezzeret said matter-of-factly, as though it were a foregone conclusion. “And you’ll fail. Even if you somehow find a way past the bars, I’ve poisoned you while you were unconscious. It’s an eldritch toxin, dormant for now, thanks to the lack of magic in that cell. Step beyond the bars, though, and you’ll be so sick as to be nearly dead in a matter of minutes.” The image shrugged. “It’ll metabolize out of your system in a few months, but I imagine I’ll have your new accommodations ready by then.”
He nodded to Baltrice, and the image faded from the wall. She grinned in anticipation, overjoyed as Jace began to tremble openly. “In the meantime,” she exulted, “the boss has told me that until he’s ready to cut you apart, as long as I cause no permanent damage—you’re mine!”
Flames erupted on the three open sides of the cell, inches beyond the enchanted bars, and if magic couldn’t penetrate the claustrophobic prison, the heat and the smoke could. Jace fell back, arms thrown up to protect his face. His skin blistered, his lungs cried out for air, but he swore, he swore, that he would not scream.
It was an oath he succeeded in keeping for almost a minute.
He lost track of time, there in that manmade purgatory. How long at a stretch was he left alone, filthy and starving, wondering if the next time that door opened would be the last? How many times did he flinch when the door did open, before he knew if it was some servant come with gruel and water, or Baltrice eager for another of their “sessions”?
The lights in the chamber neither dimmed nor brightened. The consistency of the food never changed. Jace slept fitfully, never knowing how long, never knowing if he’d wake up again, or even if he wanted to. His hair was brittle and uneven where the edges had burned away, his skin charred in spots and patches, some of which might never fully heal.
And Jace endured, for what else could he do?
It might have been days, then, or possibly weeks, when the door to the outside world opened once more, and it was neither Baltrice nor a food-toting servant who stood within.
“Hello, Jace.”
“Get out of here,” Jace demanded, his voice made hoarse by smoke and screams.
Liliana allowed the door to slide shut behind her. Tentatively, as though each step pained her, she moved through the room until she stood barely more than an arm’s reach from the bars.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she told him, her voice quiet. “I told Tezzeret that I was trying to deliver you to him, but it took him some time to even start to trust me, even after his damned truth elixirs. As it is, he’s ‘letting me stay’ while we discuss my future place in the Consortium mostly so he can keep an eye on me.”
“Either go away,” the prisoner growled, flexing his fingers, “or take a step closer.”
“Damn it, Jace! They’re going to kill you!”
“So I’m told. You came to watch?”
“I came to get you out, you idiot!”
For the first time in who knew how long, Jace laughed, laughed until his battered lungs could take no more and he collapsed against the bars in a fit of choking.
“Of course,” he gasped, when he could finally speak once more. “Because you’ve helped me so much to this point.”
“I have!” she insisted, her face distraught. “How many times have we saved each other’s lives, Jace? How many times would you be dead now, if not for me?”
“For all the good it’s done me,” he muttered, but he couldn’t deny the point. “You really want to help me escape?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to see you go through what they’re planning to do to you.”
Jace shook his head. “No. No, Liliana, you don’t get to play that card any more.”
“Even if it’s true?”
“No. I want the truth. All of it. I want to know why—not just why you want to help me escape, but why all of it.” Jace crossed his arms and stepped back from the bars. “Otherwise, I see no reason to depart this delightful establishment.”
Liliana’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking!”
“No, I’m not.” His tone left no doubt, no doubt at all, that he meant it. “This hell I’m in, Liliana? It’s nothing compared to the one you put me through. So if you expect me to trust you even so far as getting me out, to believe that this isn’t another trick, you’re going to have to convince me.” He glanced meaningfully at the door behind her, then at the wall where Tezzeret’s image had appeared. “And I’m guessing,” he continued, “that you don’t have indefinite time.”
She sighed. “No, but I have some. Tezzeret and Baltrice are off-world, and the guards outside the door are possessed. Once I release them, they won’t remember me being here at all.
“All right, Jace.” She lowered herself to the floor, sitting cross-legged before the cell. After a moment, Jace did the same, waiting expectantly.
“I never did anything,” she started softly, staring down at the floor, “that I didn’t have to do.”
Again Jace found himself laughing, and laughing harder still at the hurt expression that flashed across her face. “Where do betrayal and murder fall on the list of necessities, Liliana?” he asked her.
“What do you know?” she snapped at him, her whole body tensing. “It’s all come so easily to you, Jace! When did you work for anything? Your mind-reading? You just discovered you could do that. Your mon
ey? You blackmailed rich idiots until Tezzeret dropped an opportunity in your lap! Some of us have had to struggle a very long time for what we’ve gained.”
“Oh, please,” Jace scoffed. “You’re, what, maybe a year or two older than me? You haven’t had a very long time to struggle.”
“You’re off,” Liliana whispered, “by about a hundred years.”
Jace opened his mouth to deny the possibility, and then froze at the expression on her face. “How?” he demanded in a hoarse whisper. “Even archmages age, and you’re no archmage!”
“Someone made me a better offer.” Her lips twisted in a faint, self-mocking grin.
And with that, Jace knew. “You made a deal with something,” Jace breathed, shaken to the core of being. “Damn, Liliana, I’ve done some stupid things in my life, but you … !” He shook his head. “A demon?” he asked, remembering her reaction on Grixis.
“Four of them,” she told him. “Four demons, four deals. Jace, you can’t imagine what they offered in …” She consciously unclenched her fists, which had risen of their own accord as she spoke. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Who they were, why I did it. The point is, I was young, I was stupid, and I did it.”
“And let me guess,” Jace said, mind racing. “Payment’s due.”
“Not quite yet. Soon, though.” She shuddered. “You have no idea the terrible things they’ll demand of me, in order to keep my magics—and my soul.”
“Terrible things?” Jace scoffed. “Worse than, oh, say, betraying the man you claim to love, and then conspiring to slaughter his friends?”
“Yes,” she told him without hesitation.
Jace stood and paced the cell, the singed straw crunching and crumbling beneath his bare feet. She watched him in silence.
“What’s this got to do with me?” he finally demanded. “What did it ever have to do with me?”
“The Consortium,” she said simply. “I need a way out, and the Consortium’s got the resources to help me find it—if I’m in control. Or if I have enough influence over the one who is.”
