The Purifying Fire: A Planeswalker Novel

by Laura Resnick

  “Indeed! The whelp knows he’s nothing without me. If he ever wants total power, I must give it to him and he knows I never will.” The maniacal laughter followed again. “And if I die without passing it to him, another will be born. He will have nothing. So he keeps me here, the next best thing, prolonging my life with blood magic.”

  Silence followed for a few moments, one of the rare lulls in his laughter.

  “If it’s your power, why can’t you use it against him?” asked Chandra.

  “He has cursed me. Imagine that! Cursed me with the help of demons. He thinks he paid with the blood of his family. He thinks he will live forever, but there is more to come, and they will have their payment.”

  “Lovely,” was all Chandra could think to say. The vitriol in the old man’s voice made her skin crawl. There was little doubt for her that this was the king.

  “All lovely things have an ending … ha!” Whatever was funny about this was lost on the two of them.

  “This is how it goes,” said Gideon. “A moment or two of lucidity and then he moves from word to word. If there is a point I don’t see it.”

  “Gideon, things are really looking bad. I mean, I may just be stuck here. He says the two of us will explore the Multiverse together, but he’s going to kill you. Why did you have to come after me when the Fog Riders came?” she asked.

  “You were slung over their saddle like a sack of grain. There was so much blood pouring from your head, I wasn’t sure you’d live.” He gaze went to the healing wound on her temple. “It looks a lot better now.”

  “It is. But why did you fight them for me? You could be on the outside trying to figure something out.”

  “I guess I didn’t think. I thought they were going to kill you. I panicked.”

  “You weren’t thinking?” Chandra asked, despite everything, unable to conceal a hint of enjoyment.

  “You don’t reserve the right to act irrationally, Chandra. Let’s remember I’m the one imprisoned in a dungeon. You’re the one sleeping in a nice bed and being offered a life spent trapsing across the planes of the Multiverse.”

  “I don’t think his offer is reliable,” she said. “He seems a little … cracked.”

  “It seems to run in the family,” Gideon said dryly.

  “Look, we made a deal when you got to Diraden, and you’ve stuck to your part of the bargain, so I’ll stick to mine. We’ll keep working together to get out of here.”

  He looked at her through the barred opening in the door, his gaze impassive. She knew that this was the face he offered to people when he wanted to conceal something. It made her feel impatient with him, even angry. He had nothing to conceal from her, not if they were going to escape.

  “Why did you risk your life twice to steal the scroll on Kephalai?” he asked.

  “You knew the scroll was precious,” she said irritably. “You had it in your possession. Are you trying to tell me you didn’t even look at it?”

  “I looked at it.”

  “And?”

  “And what?” He shrugged, then winced a little as his fresh wounds protested. “A spell written in a text I’m guessing you can’t read—”

  “Can you?”

  “No, I can’t read it. But I know where it is from.”

  “Don’t mess with me Gideon.”

  “It’s old, which explains what it was doing in the Sanctum of Stars. But that doesn’t explain why you want it so badly.”

  “What does anyone want with anything? It’s old, yeah. But it’s unique. There’s nothing else like it in the whole Multiverse, is what I’ve been told. It’s a spell, yeah. But the monks back on Regatha think it could lead to something of immense power. Something way bigger than you or me.” She paused while the king entered into another round of hysterics. “I don’t know, Gideon. I wanted it for the glory. Something to make the Blind Eternities see.”

  “Never rely on the glory of morning, nor on the smile of a mother-in-law. Ah, ha, ha …”

  As they waited for this latest laughing jag to subside, Gideon considered what Chandra had said, the passion she’d showed.

  “It’s from Zendikar,” he said. “A plane of some repute. It is said to be host to some of the most powerful mana sources in the Multiverse, but it is also unpredictable, irratic. Violent and pacific in the same moment.”

  “Have you ever been there?”

  “Never, but in my youth I searched.”

  Chandra stared at Gideon without seeing him, her mind fixed on what the scroll could lead to.

  She wrapped her fingers around the bars that separated them. “You’re sure the plane exisits?”

  “I can’t be certain, but, yes, reasonably sure.”

  “Do you know what this means, Gideon?” A light burned in Chandra’s eyes. “If we could get to Zendikar and find this thing that the monks talk about? Think of the things we could do. Think of the power! The adventure!”

  “Chandra, you don’t even know what it is. It could be anything. It could be the darkest power you’ve ever known. It could kill you. It could …”

  “You said it, Gideon. It could be anything. And we’ll never know until we find it.”

  After a moment, Gideon looked into Chandra’s eyes. They sparkled with a clarity he had never seen before. There was hope there, to be sure, but there was something more. To say that it was fire would be obvious. To say that it was life would be an understatement.

  “We can’t do anything until we get out of here,” he said in a monotone.

  Chandra hung her head. There was silence in the dungeon.

  “If I may say so,” said the king in a remarkably clear voice. “I believe I can help.”

  The plan was a little crazy. So many things could go wrong, she was sure Gideon would never go for it, preferring instead to sacrifice himself so that she could live, or some ridiculous thing like that. But the king said he could help. He told them he still had some tricks up his sleeve.

  This was how he told them they could beat the prince and escape the shroud that held Diraden in darkness and restricted their connection to mana. The king would need some of Gideon’s blood. Not much, maybe a spoonful and he would offer a similar amount of his own. He would use a bit of childhood magic he’d learned to confound his parents so many centuries ago. He and his siblings had often traded a bit of their blood in order to assume one another’s appearance and so get out of lessons. The king was a bit hard to stop once he started on his reminiscence. Chandra had to be diligent in keeping him focused.

  The king said he could make himself look like Gideon and vice versa. The old man had been alive too long, he said. It was time for him to die, especially if his death were vexing to the ungrateful whelp sitting on his throne. He would go in Gideon’s place to be killed. When the prince mistakenly killed him, the shroud would be lifted. The prince would be powerless before them.

  “But what about this transmutation he hopes to achieve? What if he is able to incorporate your essence?” Gideon asked, still skeptical of the plan.

  “If it were possible, he would have tried. Don’t you think?” asked Chandra. She had been in the dungeon for some time now. She couldn’t rely on the guard to let her stay forever, or even be at the door when she tried to leave.

  “The boy knows nothing. It is impossible,” said the king. “My time has come and he cannot stop it.”

  “I am not filled with confidence,” said Gideon.

  “What else are we going to do?” asked Chandra. “I don’t see a lot of options.”

  “Okay, but how are we going to move the blood between cells?”

  “It must be in the woman’s mouth!” shouted the king before entering into the first round of laughter in quite some time.

  The thought was ridiculous to Chandra. Was this all an old crank’s plan to put his tongue in her mouth? For the first time she moved down the hallway to the cell the king occupied and looked inside. What she saw nearly made her faint. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cel
l, the old man looked so pallid as to be translucent. Light blue veins covered his naked body like the veins of some gelid mineral. He was unbearably thin. He laughed with his toothless mouth wide, his tongue dryly avian. His black eyes were as lusterless as the surrounding stone.

  “Gideon. We have to do this, but I’m not using my mouth.”

  In the hours, perhaps days, following her conspiratorial meeting with Gideon and the king, she thanked that shred of humanity that allowed a cup and pail of water in Gideon’s cell.

  She had ferried the blood back and forth and the the two had both drunk their portion. The king said the effect of the transmogrification would last indefinitely, but once he were killed, the effect would disappear. Putting their faith in the old man was risky, to say the least, but what other choice did they have?

  Velrav had decided that he wanted Chandra present for the ritual. She assumed that was for no better reason than to enjoy her reaction to Gideon’s death.

  She’d been passing the time unwillingly in her room, where she could remain unshackled, waiting. She didn’t think she had ever been this anxious. She went over all sorts of scenarios even when she had no idea what to expect. The image of the laughing king burned into her mind so that every time she closed her eyes, she saw him there, like a malevolent idol.

  It was a relief when one of the nameless castle guards finally came to escort her to a wing of the castle she had never seen. He led her into an oval room without appointment save a long stone table at one end. The plane of the table slanted toward the middle of the oval at a sharp angle. Four straps were positioned at the corners, presumably to hold something, or somebody, in place. She was placed at the opposite end of the room and made to stand in a slight depression covered with a metal grate.

  Her wrists and feet shackled, Chandra stood wondering what she was supposed to do as the guard went around the room lighting sconces. Next Gideon—she hoped it was the king—was escorted into the room by two guards. He was hunched slightly and his hair hung over his face; his naked torso, criss-crossed with wounds and mottled with bruises, was deathly pale. She hadn’t noticed some of the wounds before. Were the bruises new? The guards picked him up, turned him upside down and strapped him to the table so that he faced up, his head pointing toward the floor. He offered no resistance. When his hair fell away from his face Chandra could see that he wore the stony expression, the impassive look she had come to know from him.

  Chandra felt a little relief. At least they had gotten this far. But just then, another set of guards entered the room, carrying the king’s body into the room. What was Gideon doing here? Did Velrav know the truth? The guards placed Gideon equidistant between Chandra and the king, at the wall so that the three of them formed a triangle, and left the room. Chandra was worried by this latest development, but there was nothing she could do.

  And in walked Velrav. As tense as she felt, Chandra had to keep herself from laughing. He was wearing a lush and obviously expensive cloak, but he also wore a long conical hat with a broad brim and chin strap. The effect, though doubtlessly intended to make him look imposing, made him look like a fool, a sad minstrel imitating the pomp of royalty.

  Velrav turned to Chandra. “I believe you know my father, the king? Are you surprised? No, of course not. Could you believe that I wouldn’t know about your little clandestine visit? I thought I would let you visit your bounty hunter one last time.”

  Chandra couldn’t respond. Her mind was racing. The whole situation was getting really annoying. Not a single thing had gone right since she got to this forsaken plane, and by now it was really going wrong. She could feel her skin begin to flush, all the familiar feelings of anger and frustration, but there was something missing. The bloom at the base of her skull, that power that she normally felt coursing down her spine and into her limbs wasn’t there—but her blood was moving and that, at least, felt good.

  “I brought him to bear witness to his only living son’s transformation.”

  The old man began to laugh, that unmistakable laugh. Chandra balled her fists and clenched her jaw. Her mind raced uncontrollably. She tried to calm her mind down, tried to breathe, but she couldn’t do it. Everything she knew, everything she’d done, nothing mattered. She felt it all fall away from her as the rage took control.

  “I’m sorry, Chandra. He knows,” said Gideon, from the table. “He came soon after you left and beat me within an inch of my life. With the body of the old man, I couldn’t do a thing to defend myself.”

  The old man laughed still, rocking back and forth.

  “Quiet, you old fool!” shouted Velrav as he pulled Gideon’s sural from beneath his cloak and whipped at him clumsily, but it did nothing to stop the laughing. If anything, it only served to make the king laugh harder.

  The fire in the sconce burned more brightly as Velrav kept whipping his laughing father, and Chandra felt it. She felt the mountain inside her. She was the volcano.

  Everything slowed down when she got this way. She felt like she was moving outside of time as the power bloomed in the base of her skull, as the fierce flower she’d been missing filled her head and her hair became a raging halo of fire. Her fists became torches, her feet lit with alchemical intensity. She spread her arms wide, her shackles a molten puddle on the floor beneath her as she began to levitate.

  Velrav turned to look at her, his mouth agape. The king’s laugh raised to a fever pitch, his eyes gaining life as he reveled in Chandra’s inferno.

  Boom! Chandra brought her hands together in a thunderous clap as her feet returned to the floor, and a blade of fire rose from her hands. She turned to her right, spinning and swinging the flaming blade in order to carry through with all her momentum. When she came full circle she struck the prince in the neck, cleaving his head and opposite shoulder from his body. The cauterized flesh smoldered as the body fell to the side and Velrav’s right arm and head landed in the laughing king’s lap. It did nothing to quiet him.

  The king patted the face of his son, and moved the head to the floor. He stood and crossed to Chandra, who was beginning to register what she had just done. Her flaming sword still burning brightly, and the old man only stopped laughing when he grabbed the blade. His flesh sizzled and burned immediately, the hideous hissing sound of the water in his body boiling away. With amazing resolve he impaled himself on the blade, even as Chandra tried to pull it back, but her shock made her too slow. The flames died, but not before the king. His body slumped on top of his son’s.

  Chandra turned to Gideon, who still lay upside-down on the table, blood coloring his once-pale face.

  “Help me off,” he said.

  She turned and went to him. “Can you feel it? Mana!”

  “Yes, I can feel it.”

  She wanted to revel in the flow of red mana that was suddenly there, had been there. She felt giddy, almost lightheaded. She undid the straps holding him to the table and helped him off it.

  “Let’s leave. I’m sure I can planeswalk. Can you?” she asked him.

  “I think I can, yes.” He was looking at her in astonishment. “Chandra, what was that?”

  “It was a blade of fire. I’ve never done that before.”

  “But how? I thought you were going to incinerate all of us. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  She thought about it for a moment, then laughed with pleasure. “I feel strong.” Her gaze wandered over his damaged, haggard appearance. “What about you?”

  He looked down at his wounded, blood-streaked body. “I’ve been better.” Gideon’s eyes were wary, as though he was witnessing magic for the first time.

  “We’ve got to get out of here, before someone comes, things are sure to be getting different out there,” she said.

  “You’re right.” His face resumed the confident calm she knew. “We need to planeswalk.”

  “Regatha?”

  “I’m following you,” said Gideon as he went and gathered his weapon.

  After several minutes of conc
entration they left Diraden.

  They entered Regatha gently, landing on soft grass in a sunlit meadow.

  Chandra lay on her back in the grass, looking up into the familiar sky. Gideon was stretched beside her. The sun came peeking through the lush trees at the edge of the meadow at an angle.

  She touched his wounded, bloody chest. “Does it hurt very badly?”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Does what hurt?”

  The trees overhead …

  Chandra suddenly sat up.

  Shoved aside, he lay looking up at her quizzically. “Is something wrong?”

  “We’re in the Great Western Wood,” she said. “I’m, uh, not sure I should be here.”

  He sat up, too, and looked around. “Ah.”

  “We should go,” Chandra said.

  And then she realized she wasn’t sure what to do with Gideon. She wanted to take him with her … but she thought it likely that the Keralians, though generally tolerant, would object to her bringing a mage with Gideon’s particular talent. Especially given how tense things were between Keral Keep and the Order.

  Chandra stood up, looked around, and got her bearings … and then realized where she could take Gideon.

  “A friend of mine lives near here,” she said. “We’ll go to his home.”

  Samir would be distressed to see her in the forest, but she was confident he would nonetheless welcome them with sincere warmth and hospitality.

  “This way,” she said to Gideon, leading him toward Samir’s nearby compound in the lush, green woodlands.

  “Actually, Chandra, there’s something …”

  His voice trailed off and they both stood still, listening intently.

  Chandra heard the rustle of a bush, then the crackling of a twig underfoot.

  “Someone’s coming,” she whispered unnecessarily.

  Oufes rarely made that much noise when moving through the forest, but she felt tense until she saw who it was. When a lithe, familiar figure came out of the dense greenery a few moments later, Chandra relaxed.