Time Spiral

by Scott McGough

  Madara no longer provided that kind of endless blue mana. The continent and its outlying islands were almost as threadbare and exhausted as Keld, but the magical resources here had been stronger to start. It wasn’t much to work with, but it was enough for a fight that was bound to end quickly, one way or another.

  Teferi now called the unstoppable urgency of the nearby tide to him, fortifying himself with the ebb and flow of the sea’s endless rhythm. It would take an ocean of power to sweep Bolas aside, but Teferi hoped instead to drown the dragon in a mere bucketfull. His human shell contained the tidal force for an instant, then it expanded to more than ten times its normal size so that he was on equal footing with his gigantic opponent

  Bolas did not react at all to Teferi’s sudden growth beyond tilting his head to follow its progress. The dragon had risen into the air once more, reveling in the physical expression of his might, lost in the joys of his gathering strength.

  Teferi shaped more of the blue mana he’d gathered, holding it in check as he arranged the ritual’s complicated words and motions. The dragon beat his wings and rose higher into the air, drawing lightning to him from the clouds. Jagged energy blasted into his hands and feet and coiled around his wrists and ankles like glittering, barbed wire jewelry.

  Teferi concentrated. Radha’s lack of support was especially irritating, as he intended to apply modified Keldon tactics to this contest. There was no hope of matching his opponent’s strength, but Teferi knew he didn’t have to be faster or stronger than the dragon, just faster and stronger than the dragon expected. None of Bolas’s raw might or magical skill meant much if he never employed them. If Teferi struck preemptively, before the enemy had a chance to bring all his faculties to bear, he could best even a planeswalking elder dragon.

  At the very least he could contain Bolas, possibly even bind him or banish him until after Shiv was safely re-installed.

  The secret, of course, was time. Stopping Bolas where he stood or removing him entirely from the time stream would end the duel as surely as overpowering him would. The dragon would almost certainly deflect or avoid Teferi’s basic phasing spells, which were the simplest way he knew to stop any impending threat, even one of this magnitude. This duel called for something grander, however, something potent enough to restrain the dragon yet subtle enough to slip past his defenses.

  Teferi opted for a straightforward stasis field concealed in a cone of frigid cold. Bolas was a fire dragon, but he was also connected to the blue mana that Teferi used. The dragon would recognize ice magic and might even allow it to strike him, just to show how ineffective it was. Teferi would have him then, for no matter where the cold blast hit, the underlying stasis trap would spring.

  Teferi shaped his spells, weaving them together in his mind until they were indistinguishable. A surge of blue mana swelled up inside him and his feet rose off the ground. Overhead Nicol Bolas beat his wings once more, folded them, then dropped toward Teferi like a falling star.

  Teferi flew upward to meet the dragon head-on. Everything hinged on his convincing Bolas that he intended to trade blows until one of them fell. He had to make this seem like a sheer contest of wills and brute power, making Bolas think Teferi was fighting on the dragon’s terms.

  Now. Teferi stopped short and extended his staff in both hands. He shouted in the liquid, mathematical language of time that he created for himself as blue energy ripped from his eyes and mouth. These azure beams merged with the glow from the tip of his staff, mingled for a moment, then lurched upward. The icy point of the spell’s frozen cone pulsated as it streaked toward its target.

  Bolas took the bait. He saw the incoming blast of ice and light, seeing how its conical point left snowflakes and specks of frost in the air as it passed. The great dragon also stopped, slowing to a hover but making no effort to dodge. Instead he confidently crossed his arms and waited.

  When Teferi’s spell was about to touch him, Bolas disappeared. The tip of the cone ripped through a ghostly after-image of the dragon, but Bolas himself was no longer there.

  Ripping pain shot through Teferi, the same kind he’d felt on the shores of Keld. Bolas had planeswalked out of danger, apparently unaware of the nearby rift’s traumatic effect. Teferi allowed himself a bit of celebration. If the ’walk was agonizing for Teferi, he could only imagine what it was like for the dragon.

  Bolas reappeared in precisely the same spot. Though he still wore an overconfident grin his face was strained. Was he too proud to show the harm his dodge had done? Or was he shamming, trying to lure Teferi in? Either way, the trick Freyalise played on Teferi over Skyshroud had not harmed Bolas over Madara.

  Teferi let fly another flashy spell, one designed to paralyze the dragon’s body and mind without affecting the flow of time around him. Bolas exhaled a stream of fire that met Teferi’s shimmering beam halfway between them, where they mingled and baffled one another, each dissolving against the other.

  Now, Teferi thought again, and this time he meant now. He continued to pour mana into his effort against Bolas, but Teferi also reached out to the first spell he’d cast. The icy cone with the long blue trail was still rising, leaving the planeswalker duel behind, but when Teferi called it answered like a well-trained dog.

  The cone curved back on its course. Nicol Bolas was focused on outlasting Teferi, his attention squarely in front of him until Teferi’s concealed stasis spell slammed solidly into his back.

  Teferi swallowed a triumphant yell as Bolas disappeared into a cloud of white light and sparkling blue smoke. He stared hard at the cloud, watching it harden and fall from the sky. It landed with a jarring boom. The rough chunk of opaque white ice cast off waves of white vapor that dropped heavily to the ground. Bolas was inside still, and like the block of ice he was as cold and immobile as stone.

  Teferi exhaled. He had done it. Overconfidence was the only weakness every planeswalker shared, but he had exploited Bolas’s first. Now the dragon was frozen in time as well as space, held fast in the grip of a spell that deflected seconds the way a seal’s coat shed mild summer rain. All of the dragon’s impulses were now suspended, his thoughts, deeds, and spells alike immobilized and stuck fast.

  That was most effective, Nicol Bolas said, but ultimately? Unimpressive.

  A dull boom sounded from within the iceberg. The solid white mass sublimated from ice into a cloud of steam and disappeared on the breeze.

  Teferi’s composure all but vanished as Bolas’ face flew toward him, the titan’s wild-eyed visage swelling to fill Teferi’s view. The wizard tried to throw up a shield, create a decoy, even tried to planeswalk away, but he was caught fast in the jaws of the dragon.

  Overconfidence is the only weakness all planeswalkers share, Bolas hissed mockingly.

  Physical contact with the dragon sent Teferi into an all-out seizure. His mind became scrambled and his body jerked convulsively. His physical essence disintegrated, but Bolas’s dread jaws bore down anyway, crushing Teferi’s spirit as thoroughly as his bones.

  Barely able to form a coherent thought, Teferi tried to delay the end with the only weapon he could muster. How? he sent, his thoughts ragged and weak.

  Bolas replied. There are monuments to me in every corner of the multiverse, he said. Visit one the next time you take the notion to turn me into a statue. Stasis? He spat the word out as if it stung him. You sought to imprison me in the absence of time?

  The dragon’s yellow eyes appeared before Teferi, spewing madness and yellow light. Teferi thanked providence for these few unearned seconds, but he could do little else besides suffer and listen to the dragon’s terrible, triumphant roar.

  Time is a most formidable weapon, he said, and perhaps the only one you use effectively, but time is only as potent as the caster and the mana he uses. Mind and will-power win duels, little wizard, not the scale of your weaponry. You commanded time to stop, to ignore me, and it would have obeyed … but I also spoke to it, and mine is the only voice that matters. Mind and willpower make
the difference, little wizard, and yours are no match for mine.

  A cage of null time. Bolas chuckled. As if that would hinder me. I spent centuries outside existence, separate from time or place. I was alone, adrift, bereft, and utterly forgotten.

  Because I died. I underestimated a canny little insect and I died in a created realm that could not withstand the energies released by my passing. That place ceased to exist even though I did not. Death’s hand opened to claim me, but I am still a dragon. I go only where I please.

  I remained in the ghostly memory of the place where I died, little more than a ghost myself. Mind, body, and spirit alike were all broken and lost, but I am still a dragon, and my indomitable will remained.

  Teferi’s being exploded in agony as Bolas stripped away his conscious mind one layer at a time, eroding his higher functions thought by thought.

  Over the decades, my mind returned. My power followed, slowly, until I was complete in every sense but the most obvious: I was incorporeal. The body that had linked me to Madara was gone, blasted to ashes. I could not return here, nor could I escape into the Blind Eternities. I had been removed from everything real and imagined and could only haunt this wretched beach as I watched those wretched cats take half my empire.

  Teferi felt his essence being torn in two, a wrenching experience that left him sundered in both body and mind. Each half of his consciousness so longed for the missing half that he was completely consumed by the ache, unable to focus on anything but his own divided self.

  Now I have returned. In my exile I had occasion to study the time rift that pierces the Talon Gates. I could sense and gauge the effect it had on this world. I could imagine how it affected all the other worlds it touches. I became its keeper, familiar with every ephemeral speck and spark of its substance. That is how I found you.

  Teferi’s mind began to break down under Bolas’ casual abuse. Sensing his victim was about to shut off, Bolas changed tactics. Physical pain assailed Teferi, though he had no physicality left. He felt his body stretching beyond its limits in all directions, his bones splintering and muscles tearing as he was flattened into a two-dimensional shape without depth or mass.

  Your spark is familiar to me, Teferi Time-Chaser, but useless. If a spark could have returned me here, I would have used my own, but the Keldon and the artificer … did you sense their connection to the rifts when you pulled them in behind you? No matter. I was able to use their abilities even if they cannot and you will not … openly.

  Teferi felt himself slipping away. The dragon’s voice grew faint and though the constant agony did not relent, it stopped growing infinitely worse with each passing second.

  This is very disappointing, Bolas said. You have absolutely no talent for combat. Still, that is not unexpected.

  Teferi was suddenly whole again, back in the human shape and size he routinely wore. He caught a glimpse of Jhoira and Radha and the others before sharp, cutting pain ripped across both shoulders, then both elbows, then in turn across his neck, waist, knees, and hips.

  The world tumbled crazily before his wide, staring eyes. He landed with one cheek pressed tight against the ground, peering up at Jhoira’s horrified face. He tried to shut his eyelids, but he was as helpless and immobile as he’d tried to make the dragon.

  Despite the pain, the failure, and the ruinous mistakes he continued to make, Teferi could still think. He would like to take back many of the things he had said and done over the past day. He should have skipped Urborg and gone straight to Shiv, as Jhoira had expected; he should have played to his strengths and used diplomacy or deflection to avoid a duel with the multiverse’s oldest planeswalker; he should have enlisted more help at the outset of this endeavor, perhaps recruited Windgrace and even Freyalise. Together they could have gathered information simultaneously from the different sites, and when Shiv finally returned there would be multiple planeswalkers there to ensure its safe installation.

  Teferi tried to blink, but even this was beyond his power at present. He found that his priorities had realigned with his current ability to achieve them, so he wished only for something that was possible, a minor boon from fortune’s wheel.

  He knew what was coming next, and if he could change but one thing about his current situation, it was for him to be facing away from Jhoira and the others when Nicol Bolas turned his attentions to them.

  It was childish and selfish, he knew, but the truth was he’d rather not have to watch.

  Radha stood between the dragon and the Shivans. It all seemed to happen so quickly, beginning and ending before she really even understood the stakes.

  Giant Teferi had blasted the big scaly bugger and froze him solid, but it didn’t seem to take. The dragon then snatched Teferi up in his jaws and they both disappeared. A few seconds later, Bolas returned with normal-sized Teferi’s slack body in his outstretched hand. The dragon’s claws left streaks of jagged black light in their wake, and when he opened his hand, Teferi fell from it in pieces. The bald wizard’s head, arms, and legs all dropped off his trunk, which was then slashed in two across the middle.

  As before, there was no blood. The pieces of Teferi’s body tumbled like well-chopped firewood and the planeswalker’s head landed facing Jhoira. If she hadn’t warned Teferi not to pick this fight, Radha might have felt sorry for him.

  “Now then,” Bolas said. “We have unfinished business.”

  “No.” Radha took another step forward, increasing the distance between her and the others. “We’re done.”

  She was not worried about getting too close to the monster—he had proven his reach was longer than the distance between them—but Radha did hope to minimize any damage to the others if he lashed out at her.

  Bolas insouciantly turned his head toward Radha. “Manners, young lady. I was speaking to the command element of your unit, to Jhoira of the Ghitu.”

  “I am here, Sensei.” Jhoira came up alongside Radha, her expression placid. She motioned for Radha to step back.

  “Young?” Radha stood fast and spoke to the dragon. “I’m eighty years old this winter. I haven’t been young in a long time.”

  “Eighty years,” Bolas said. “Adolescence for an elf. A blink for me.”

  Radha’s grip tightened around the handle of Astor’s dagger. “My grandmother was two hundred and sixty before she stopped calling herself ‘middle-aged,’” Radha said. “My mother declared herself old and shriveled at one hundred and fourteen. How many years did you swallow before you no longer felt young?”

  The dragon’s scaly lips pulled back in a predatory smile. He huffed out a cloud of dark smoke and a throaty chuckle. “I like you, my dear. I apprehended the Keldons were a quarrelsome people, but you are downright convivial.”

  “We are a quarrelsome people.”

  “Yet you haven’t bragged or bullied at all. You certainly haven’t begged. You’ve no idea how refreshing that is.”

  Radha nodded. “And you haven’t destroyed me, as you clearly can. Why not?”

  Bolas shrugged. “You interest me. You and the artificer. Surely your captain”—he motioned to the pile of Teferi’s pieces—“told you about the remarkable thing you two have in common.”

  “I have very little in common with that sallow, shrinking worm.”

  The dragon’s calm ease darkened and grew sharp. “Shall I take him, then? Shall I leave you and the others be and savor his flesh between my teeth? I may find what I need from him by straining through his remains, but then again, I may not.”

  “Don’t,” Jhoira said. Radha looked at Venser, who was sweating.

  “It’s all one to me,” she said.

  “Is it, now?” Bolas’s eyes sparkled. Once more they began radiating waves of force. “If I extend my hand for him now, your disinterest will hold? You will let me have him … and also discourage that foolish little man with the weapon made of rocks and string?” The dragon craned his huge head, looking over Radha’s shoulder. She knew Aprem was standing there but did not fol
low the dragon’s stare.

  “Ghitu,” she said. “Don’t do it. Don’t even think about it.”

  Aprem stepped forward. Radha’s teeth clenched when she saw the bolas ready in his hand.

  “Venser is under our protection,” Aprem said, his pale face betraying his brave words.

  “Indeed,” Bolas said, “and what will you do to those who mean Venser harm? Will you strike me down? Will you ignite your awesome weapon and vanquish me with it? I believe you can do it. Do you believe?”

  Aprem croaked, “I do.”

  “Aprem,” Radha said. “Shut up.”

  “And stand down,” Jhoira added.

  The dragon’s tongue flashed. “Then do it,” he said.

  The Ghitu man sneered at them, his face feverish and distracted. He spun his bolas vertically alongside himself so that it whistled a bare inch above the ground and an inch above his head. On the third revolution, the multiple weights burst into flame.

  Now Jhoira and Dassene both moved forward, calling out to Aprem. Instead of acknowledging their pleas, Aprem kept glancing down at Teferi’s body, his face growing slacker and paler as the cold sweat ran down from his forehead.

  Bolas frowned. He spoke casually, his tone jaded and bored. “Teferi used paralysis magic to counter my fire,” he said, “but there are better ways to deal with an overabundance of heat.” He glanced over to Radha. “Thus.”

  “Don’t bother,” Radha said, but Bolas already turned back to Aprem and lifted one eyebrow.

  Something surged invisibly between them and Aprem cried out. The Ghitu staggered back and dropped his flaming bolas. His eyes widened as if perhaps he understood what was happening to him. Then the red-garbed warrior sagged inside his skin, his body sliding and contracting grotesquely as gravity pulled his now-fluid muscles and tendons away from his bones.