Time Spiral

by Scott McGough

  Teferi didn’t answer, occupying himself with gesturing. Since he could actually bring the rest of the group through with barely a thought, he used the extra time gesturing afforded him to closely examine the world around him.

  He was immediately sorry. It was so much worse than he’d feared.

  Keld’s broad, squat mountains were broken and worn, weathered shadows of their former selves. Instead of the proud, sharp summits Teferi expected, nearly every mountain was topped by a broken bowl of cracked stone. Keld’s mountaintops looked to have exploded and collapsed in on themselves. It was similar to a series of large-scale volcanic eruptions, but Keld had not seen a naturally active volcano in all its recorded history. Moreover, there was absolutely no heat or seismic force present, not in any of the calderalike structures. If lava flows had shattered these peaks it had done so eons ago and the aftermath had long since cooled to stone, but if that were true, where were the records of such an event?

  Teferi turned this new evidence over in his mind as he brought the Shivan warriors through. The state of these mountains was dire news for all of Dominaria. Jhoira was correct in that Keld was one of the most potent sources of mountain magic in the world, yet there was almost no mana now, almost no magical energy at all.

  More sparks spun, flared, and danced around the vortex. Jhoira stepped back, shielding her face against the brilliance. Once more harsh white light flashed from inside the cyclone, this time fading to leave four bipedal shapes.

  All were natives of Shiv, taken and preserved long ago with their homeland. Teferi hadn’t been exaggerating earlier—even for a planeswalker it was difficult to bring these warriors out of their phased state and transport them here. Luckily, Jhoira knew exactly which of her fellow Shivans were qualified and interested in joining this humble outing. From that small pool of candidates, only these four had been willing and able to answer her call. “Four is enough,” Jhoira had said, “if I get the right four.”

  This group more than satisfied her requirements. Two were human Ghitu tribe members like Jhoira herself, one male and one female. They were both lean and small in stature and each was dressed in the bright red garb of elite Ghitu warriors. Between them they carried a wide array of hand-tooled weapons.

  The remaining two were viashino, the tenacious lizard people who thrived in parts of Shiv where human beings could not, where the heat and caustic air roasted and dissolved frailer-skinned species in a matter of seconds. These viashino loomed tall behind the Ghitu, larger and far more massive than their human counterparts, though they both carried cudgels and gleaming silver blades that had been smithed in Ghitu forges.

  Teferi could see the comfort Jhoira took from the warriors’ presence. Her own tribemates were well versed in the magics of combat and fire and were also experienced hand-to-hand fighters. The viashino were terribly fast despite their size and bulk and wickedly clever despite their bestial appearance. The lizard warriors were rightly feared for their lightning ambush tactics and the ferocity of their charges. Nothing short of an army would get past these defenders, and if an army showed up, well … Teferi himself would handle that problem when and if it arose.

  “Welcome to Keld,” Teferi said, but his tone was stern. “There’s something interfering with the mana here. It is inadequate for your needs.” He waved his staff horizontally. “Here,” he said. “These mana stars will more than make up for the shortfall.”

  Simple silver chains appeared around each Shivan neck. Jhoira and the others now sported necklaces with vivid, five-pointed star gems that hung down to their collarbones. The multifaceted stones shone with an opalescent glow.

  “Be ready to move in the next ninety seconds.”

  Teferi was relying on the Shivans to conduct themselves with tight military discipline. They were experienced campaigners and had come to do serious work, perhaps even bloody work. They did not need to be flattered or put at ease, so he didn’t bother to smooth-talk them as he would a fellow academic or visiting head of state.

  The thoughts in their minds were less guarded and more available than Jhoira’s, but they were also less comprehensible. Teferi’s brand of telepathy worked best when both the reader and the read cooperated. If not, the experience was painful for the subject and taxing for the telepath. He gathered random flashes of anxiety, hubris, and anticipation from these warriors, but he could have easily gleaned such information from their facial expressions and body language. Teferi both liked and disliked the warrior mindset for precisely this reason: they were reliable, predictable, and not given to imaginative thinking.

  “Cold,” said one of the viashino. He was smaller and leaner than his partner and his scales were a far darker green. The keen edges of his diamond-shaped scales glistened in the mist. He sniffed the air. “Ice storm soon. Or snow. It’ll start after sundown.”

  The viashino language itself was little more than a stream of clicks and hisses, but thankfully all the lizard folk Jhoira knew had mastered human speech. Teferi was once more secretly pleased that these viashino voices were not as breathy or sibilant as those of some other reptilian races. He thought of himself as a tolerant person, open to all cultures and customs, but it did get tiresome when a simple “Yes” took a full five seconds to say.

  “Of course you’re cold,” the planeswalker said. “You’re accustomed to the deserts of Shiv. Try to relax and remember to draw mana from the gem, not the land.”

  The viashino’s tail lashed from side to side. It was longer than the warrior was tall, supple and strong. It was ridged with sharp, toothlike scales and its end was a wide, flat crescent with razor sharp edges. The crescent listed back and forth behind the viashino’s head as he turned his rounded snout towards Teferi.

  “Not me,” the viashino said sharply. “This place is cold. The weather. It’s too cold here.”

  “We’re in Keld,” Teferi said patiently. “It’s always cold here.”

  “I know where we are,” the viashino sneered. “I’ve been in Keld before, and it’s not supposed to be this cold.” He rose to his full height and glared down at Teferi, his sharp tongue darting between far sharper teeth. “And friend wizard? Stop talking to me like I’m an idiot child.”

  “Skive is right,” Jhoira called. “This is the end of Keld’s summer. It shouldn’t be this miserable.” She glanced back to the north. “The mountains don’t look right either.”

  “Your pardon,” Teferi spoke to the viashino called Skive. He didn’t want Jhoira to take a closer look at the mountains and come to the same disturbing conclusion he had—not yet, anyway. She could not help but notice them sooner or later, especially since some of the mountain bases were so eroded that Teferi feared they might simply overbalance and fall like a top-heavy toy.

  To Skive, Teferi added, “You are right to be concerned. Things are not exactly as I expected, but that won’t affect our mission here. If you like, I can raise the temperature around us or whistle up some warmer gear for you.” His brown eyes sparkled with blue energy. Teferi smiled. “But we are still moving out in the next sixty seconds.”

  “I need no help.” Skive looked away. “I’m ready to work. Let’s just get this done while my blood is still liquid.”

  Corus, the larger viashino, huffed a ragged laugh. “Cheer up, Skive,” he said. “We’re working with two Ghitu firestarters. We need never be cold again.”

  The female Ghitu smiled, happy to take up the challenge. “My fire will do more than warm you, newt.”

  “Now, Dassene,” the male Ghitu chided. “Don’t be so rude to our comrades. It’s insulting to call such a noble reptile ‘newt.’”

  “Your pardon, Aprem,” Dassene said, mimicking Teferi’s tone and head bob. “What should I call him?”

  “Skink,” Aprem said. He grinned maliciously. “Maybe eft.”

  Corus interlaced his fingers and stretched his long scaly arms out before him. “I’ll ‘eft’ you, little Ghitu,” he said, smiling through a mouth of gleaming white fangs. “Where do
you get off calling us names? I understand the Ghitu word for you match-strikers translates directly as ‘disposable.’ In your own language! It must be inspiring to have your worth as a warrior spelled out in your very rank.”

  The planeswalker watched them for a moment, wondering if this was the sort of tight military discipline that earned Shivans their fierce reputation. Then Jhoira cleared her throat and said, “When you’re through blustering, brothers and sisters, I’d like to move away from this exposed position.”

  The tension broke at the sound of her voice. The soldiers’ bravado cooled and the Shivans shared a guarded chuckle as they moved away from Teferi and Jhoira, readying themselves to move out.

  Jhoira came up next to Teferi, her voice low and calm. “They’ll be fine,” she said. “A little friendly competition among neighbors.” She leaned in close to Teferi and added, “What do you think is happening here? I accept that this is Keld, but it doesn’t feel like Keld. It certainly doesn’t look like Keld.”

  “I agree,” Teferi said.

  Jhoira peered out into the bay. “Isn’t this the main port of the entire country? Where are the boats? Where are the ships?” She threw her hands out wide. “Where are the Keldons?”

  Teferi nodded but did not reply. It was true: this had been Keld’s busiest population center and one of the few places outsiders could land and do business without being attacked on sight. He’d expected not only a large number of natives, but also a healthy contingent of commerce-bearing ships and foreign traders. Instead, there was nothing. No warships, no merchant vessels. No marina, no docks, no harbormaster … no harbor. Other than the wrecked shack, this Keldon beach had no distinguishing features beyond grim flotsam, an unpleasant breeze, and wet sand.

  “I’ve made a mistake.” Teferi spoke quietly so only Jhoira would hear. “Something’s wrong here, and I don’t know what it is.”

  Jhoira put a hand on his arm. “That’s why we came,” she said, “to find things out. And, that being the case, let me bring us back to it: we’re not here to fix Keld. This a problem and a mystery for another day. We’re here to consult with Freyalise, to study the forest she installed, and then move on.”

  “True,” Teferi said.

  He felt his doubts and anxiety fade as he fixed on something concrete and constructive. His plan was far from detailed or complete, but it began at a very logical point. Before he tried to redraw the map by forcing a significant chunk of territory back into it, he intended to talk to another planeswalker who had already done precisely that.

  Teferi flashed a smile at Jhoira and said, “To Skyshroud then. Freyalise certainly knows we’re here, but I’m sure she won’t leave the forest. She’s going to make us come to her.” His smile tightened. “There’s some sort of interference that’s making it difficult to planeswalk. I think Freyalise the xenophobe has finally figured out a way to keep people like me away.”

  “Which puts you on equal footing with the rest of us,” Jhoira said. “All right, then. If we can’t planeswalk, we simply walk.”

  Teferi’s jovial retort froze in his throat. “Actually,” he said. “We’re probably going to fight first.”

  “Fight? But—” Jhoira stopped as the sensation hit her, too. She searched Teferi’s eyes for an answer that he did not have, then the two of them simultaneously turned inland.

  The fog between the dunes was flowing away from a tall pillar of … something. Distorted waves of force churned along its exterior, causing the pillar to scintillate and throb like a living thing. The rectangular mass was translucent, but the view through it was distorted, bent as if seen through a carelessly ground lens. Instead of the dreary and dead Keldon beach around them, looking through the phenomenon showed a Keldon shoreline that was bright, burning, and hot. In fact, it showed a bustling port complete with many buildings and plenty of ships. Teferi’s eyes narrowed in the harsh light illuminating the scene inside the pillar, where everything that was visible was also on fire.

  “What is that?” Jhoira asked.

  “No idea,” Teferi said, “but we should call our friends away from it.”

  The Shivan warriors were all staring at the phenomenon, but none of them had bothered to retreat. As the pillar and the images it contained began to expand toward them, they tensed for battle.

  “Fall back,” Teferi said urgently.

  Thunder rumbled from the growing shape and violent waves of visual distortion rolled out, warping the beach as they passed. Searing pain blasted through Teferi’s body, shooting up his spine and slamming into his brain like an ice-cold hammer. An awful grating sound tore through his ears as the pillar split in half lengthwise, fouling the air with a dizzying smell and a shower of white-hot sparks.

  A single burly figure fell from the sundered pillar, a broadsword in one hand and a battle-axe in the other. He was almost seven feet tall with thick muscles rippling across every inch of him. His eyes glittered from deep inside their hollow sockets, wide, bulging, and flashing red like the sunset on the edge of a blade. His hair was long and matted, and his jutting brow cast a sinister shadow across his face. The wild man wore leather breeches and wrist gauntlets but no armor. In fact, he was naked to the waist and the damp fog hissed wherever it touched his bare skin.

  As his lips curled into a snarl, the barbarian opened his jaws and hungrily snapped his huge, square teeth.

  There’s going to be a fight, Teferi thought dreamily, but where had this enemy come from? Why was the portal he used causing Teferi pain?

  Nearby, the barbarian pulled himself free of the sand. He threw his head back and let out a throaty battle roar. More of the wild-eyed fiends fell from the fissure behind him as he howled, and every one joined in the war cry as soon as they found their footing and drew their own vicious weapons. Soon there were almost a dozen of them, each roaring through a nightmarish expression of feral bloodlust.

  Teferi felt his grasp of the situation slipping away. So little of this made sense and what did was crowded out of his mind by the angry, jagged, red-hot thoughts of the incoming Keldons. Teferi tried not to read their minds, to shutter them out, but their thoughts still peppered him like grapeshot from a catapult. The Keldons’ thoughts were raw, violent, incoherent things, and Teferi felt himself grow nauseated as they burned and stabbed into his mind.

  Were they truly even Keldons? These berserkers were a good deal paler than expected. Oh, they were big enough, but instead of the imposing slate gray color that typified fighting Keldons, this lot was a sallow, sickly shade of gray … more ashes and smoke than stone. Like the drab landscape around them, these barbarians seemed drained, leeched of something vital—perhaps even desperate to reclaim it.

  Of course, this subtle cosmetic difference didn’t make the raiders any less intimidating or dangerous, and he saw that the Shivan warriors shared this conclusion. Corus had extended his claws and Skive’s tail curled up over his own head like a scorpion’s. Aprem had already produced a six-balled bolas and began whirling it while Dassene drew two polished batons of hard wood from her belt. She held each stick firmly in the center as the ends burst into flame.

  “So,” Aprem called back to Jhoira, his tone bright, “we start the day in battle against a real Keldon war party.” As he spoke, the ends of each weighted bolas ignited, wreathing the air above him in a halo of fire. The mana stars flared crimson each time the Ghitu cast their spells.

  “No,” Jhoira said. She fixed her eyes on Teferi. “These aren’t Keldons, are they? At least, not Keldons that anyone has seen for over five hundred years.”

  Teferi did not meet Jhoira’s eyes. She was right, and what’s more, she had just voiced the conclusion he could not bring himself to reach. These were not the Keldons of his era, or any era since. They were throwbacks, echoes from a dark era long since passed, when the warlike tribe used a dire mix of magic and science to enhance their strength and ferocity.

  “They should not exist,” he admitted. The planeswalker did not move, doing nothing to add
ress the mounting danger in front of them. He felt dazed with his attention split between the physical threat of the Keldons and the metaphysical threat of the rift that brought them.

  There were now almost two dozen berserkers on the beach. The first to emerge stepped forward, eyeing the small party of visitors, and spat contemptuously. The brute turned and called out in the guttural common language of Keld, “Kill them all.”

  “They do act like Keldons,” Teferi said.

  “But they’re not. They’re not supposed to exist anymore.” Jhoira’s voice was rising to a yell. “How did they get here?”

  “Who cares?” Skive said. His sharp-edged tail whipped through the fog around him. “They’re here and they’re coming fast.”

  Jhoira turned to Teferi and said, “Stop this.” He barely heard her as he stared fixedly at the source of their attackers. The rift in time and space lingered over the dismal patch of shoreline, but no more berserkers fell from it.

  Jhoira continued to shout. “Teferi, do not let this continue, not until we know more, until we understand more.”

  Skive and Corus were not waiting for the barbarians to come to them or for Teferi’s paralysis to break. Lighter and faster, Skive led the way, but both viashino were little more than twin blurs as they met the barbarians head-on. Only a few paces behind, Aprem and Dassene joined in the counterattack, gems aglow, leaving ropes of fire in the wake of their weapons.

  Jhoira stepped up to Teferi and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Do not let this happen,” she said, shoving her face close to his. His eyes felt far away, and his expression was blank. “Make it stop.”

  “Stop.” Teferi blinked. “Yes. Forgive me, Jhoira, I was lost in thought. And thank you.” He glanced up at the rift, the sight of the strange phenomenon reviving the pain in Teferi’s head and spine. He brushed this sensation aside, defiantly staring deep into the heart of the disruption.