Future Sight

by John Delaney

  “I’m going to kill you, Warlord.” Jeska was terrible to behold, even to Jhoira’s skewed vision. The Pardic woman’s hair was darker, almost black, and her eyes glittered like stars. “But first I’m going to use you up.”

  Radha’s smile was almost audible. “Come on then.”

  Jhoira strained to clear her mind, to see clearly, to rise despite the pain in her shoulders. Time worked against them, as it always did, but on this occasion everything was at risk. All their lives, all they had done, all they had yet to do. Jhoira continued to struggle even though it was futile, unwilling to let Radha or the noble cause for which they all fought die alone.

  Their game quickly became clear to Jeska. The forest avatar had tricked her, ensorcelled her with his magic to not only make her believe she was in Krosa, but to make her accept without question that she could be in Krosa. She was furious at Multani, at Radha, at Jhoira and the others…but she was mostly furious with herself.

  She had allowed herself to be fooled, allowed herself to be tortured and tormented. Worst of all, they had exposed a vision of her brother that she had never even shown herself. But now that she had seen it she could not deny that it had come from within. No one else knew the things that dream-Kamahl had said to her, no one else could have plumbed the depths of her own private horror so completely.

  Now the Keldon was the only one standing, blustering as usual. Jeska realized she hated Radha, and not only because the Keldon was a shining example of the brutal, base, bloodthirsty animals that gave barbarians a bad name. They had merged in the Zhalfirin rift, viscerally shared their deepest and most private sensations. They did have much in common, but in every instance Radha showed none of the regret or guilt that dogged Jeska’s every step. Part of Jeska longed for that kind of certainty, for the obliviousness of bloodlust and the confidence of untrammeled ego.

  She also respected Radha, or at least, respected her drive and her bravery. Most berserker bullies were cowards at heart, venting their petty anger on those who couldn’t or wouldn’t fight back, but Radha seemed to attack everyone regardless of how weak or strong they were. She had also felt the Keldon’s anguish as they closed the rift, experienced the protective concern she held for her warhost as well as her fanatical devotion to restoring the glory of Keld.

  Respect and partial understanding would not be enough to spare Radha, however, nor were they enough to deter Jeska from her work.

  The warlord was canny enough to keep backing away from Jeska and to circle when Jeska circled. It wasn’t an effective tactic, but it at least showed Radha was not completely mindless.

  “You look different,” Jeska said. It was true, Radha’s omnipresent mantle of fire had grown more colorful, more vibrant.

  “I’ve made new friends, Little One,” Radha said. She nodded at Jeska’s blackened tresses. “What’s your excuse?”

  “New friends? How much did they cost? Or did you just threaten to cut their throats?”

  “Nasty, nasty Little One.” Radha shook her head scoldingly. “You keep talking like that and no one will want to fight you for money anymore.”

  Jeska stopped. She was still enraged and ready to lash out, but she was also tired. Radha had a gift for making her think and act like child, but that didn’t mean Jeska had to play along. “This fight is over, Warlord. It’s not even a fight.

  Radha drew her broken sword and a tear-shaped blade. “It is now.”

  Jeska clenched her jaw. “I can’t kill you yet. And you can’t kill me ever.”

  “Let’s just see about that.”

  Jeska sighed and waved her hand. Radha fought her, heaving and growling until the cords stood out on her neck, but in the end Jeska simply overpowered her. Radha’s hands opened, and her weapons dropped to the ground. Her arms pressed flat against her body, and her legs stiffened.

  “You’re…consistent, Little One.” Radha sweated and strained. “But not very imaginative.”

  “I like to stick with what works.”

  “You’re a coward. Turn me loose and fight me.”

  “No, Warlord. We still have much to do.”

  “I will not be your toy.”

  “You already are.” Jeska tossed her head, and Radha rose into the air. “You are, have been, and will be again. You are mine until I’m done with you.”

  “Kill me or turn me loose.”

  “I’ll do both,” Jeska said. “In time.” She willed herself up beside Radha and guided the Keldon close to the deadfall’s green glow. Radha began to curse her, and Jeska froze her jaws shut.

  The Yavimayan rift was not like Zhalfir’s. It was elusive, hidden, peeking out from behind the overwhelming aura of forest magic. It was similar enough for Jeska, however, and she set about testing it before she brought Radha into play. There were powerful unseen forces at work here, a living energy that had infiltrated the rift as surely as the rift had infiltrated Yavimaya. She wondered if she could kill the rift without killing that vital force along with it. She wondered if that would matter when the time came.

  “Tell me,” Jeska said. “Did you have anything to do with that?” She released Radha’s jaw so the Keldon could speak.

  “Haughty cow. Drop dead and rot.”

  Jeska squeezed Radha’s bones together until the Keldon snarled in pain. “Did you have anything to do with that?

  “With what?”

  “With the mind games. With me being tortured just now.”

  “Didn’t look like torture to me,” Radha said. “The mulch-man said he was trying to calm you down, get you to listen. Then you blew him up.”

  Jeska turned away. “He deserved worse.”

  “Oh? Well, here’s your chance.”

  “What—”

  A massive branch swung down and swept Jeska aside. The limb crushed her into the trunk of a thousand-year-old magnigoth tree and folded itself around Jeska without snapping, pinning her in place. Stunned, Jeska felt her hold on Radha evaporate and watched the Keldon drop lightly to her feet.

  “You didn’t think he was dead, did you?” Radha dashed over to the root wall and picked up the wooden form of Multani’s face. “This place is packed to the teeth with healing magic.”

  Jeska strained against the wood holding her, but it was ancient and strong. It was also charged with mana that made it sturdy enough to resist Jeska’s strength and her magic.

  Radha glanced down at Multani’s face and nodded. She flipped the wooden plate aside and loped over to Jhoira, who was still struggling to get to her feet. Over the Ghitu’s weak objections, Radha tossed Jhoira over her shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Repaying a favor. Multani wants them clear in case we all kill each other. Someone has to carry on.” She moved along the wall, bent at the knee, and scooped up the unconscious form of Venser.

  Jeska.

  Multani’s voice infuriated her. Don’t speak to me.

  Listen to me. I did not create those images you saw.

  No? You were the one inside my mind.

  But not the only one. There was someone else, someone who twisted the messages I sent.

  As they talked, Radha took Venser and Jhoira out of sight.

  We are not your enemies, Jeska. We oppose what you’re doing, but we mean you no harm.

  Radha returned and collected Teferi.

  “Too bad,” Jeska said. “Until recently, I felt the same way about you.” She increased her physical strength and pushed against her wooden bonds with both arms and legs. The wood cracked and began to give until Multani strengthened it and cinched it tight once more.

  Jeska teleported. She vanished out from under the thick branch and reappeared directly in front of Radha. The Keldon lashed out with her long right arm, but Jeska caught the blow and teleported herself and Radha to the outer edge of the clearing. Now behind the warlord, Jeska planted her palm between Radha’s shoulder blades and pinned her to the root wall. Radha’s arms and legs flailed as she struggled for purchase. Jeska slowly r
emoved her hand, making sure to keep Radha firmly in place face-first against the wood.

  The Pardic woman bent and retrieved Multani’s face. It felt oddly alive, warm and flexible. She stared at it until the eyes opened and the lips began to move.

  Do not do this, Multani said. No sound came from the wooden face in her hands, but she heard him clearly all the same.

  “I have to. There is no other way.”

  There must be. Let us help you find it. Let us find it together.

  “No,” Jeska said. “No, I think not. But I will grant you this.” She turned her head toward Teferi, who promptly vanished. “Venser and Jhoira are safe too. I’ve sent them all back to the shores where they arrived. Now there is nothing left for you to worry about. Except me.”

  She soared into the air once more, Multani’s face in one hand and Radha trailing after the other. Jeska carried them both up to the deadfall, careful this time to protect herself from surprise attacks.

  With Multani in her grasp, the Yavimayan rift was not so mysterious. He was attuned to the living part of the cancerous mass, the part he and his forest had sent to worm its way into the rift and co-opt it. Multani’s resonance would allow her access to the rift, and Radha’s untapped potential would let her seal it.

  Before Multani could plead or Radha could threaten, Jeska tossed them both toward the rift. As soon as they left her hands, she threw her arms forward and reached through them, out to the phenomenon itself. It was a bit like battlefield surgery, a clumsy grope through a comrade’s innards to find and remove an arrowhead or broken sword tip.

  In her mind’s eye, Jeska pushed aside the last of Yavimaya so that the sickly green rift shone clear and unimpeded. The phenomenon called to her, clutched at her, but it was as blocked by Radha’s inert spark as the Zhalfirin rift had been. Radha did not have the transcendent source of unlimited power the rifts hungered for, so hers was not a spark it could use. But Jeska could.

  She focused her near-omnipotence on the Yavimayan rift, channeling it through Radha and Multani. The Keldon’s body arched, and her scream blistered Jeska’s ears as Multani’s anguished cry speared through her mind. The rift surged toward her, snapping at her like a hungry fish hunting a water strider…but the surface of this pool was beyond its reach, unbreakable.

  Once more the boundaries between Radha and Jeska blurred, but this time there was an extra personality in the combination.

  As a single combined entity, Radha, Jeska, and Multani led a Keldon warhost against a fifty-foot-tall giant whose body seemed to be made of solid ice and snow. The man-shaped creature’s face was a series of sharp, frozen points, from the jagged edges of its protruding brow to the tip of its icy beard. Elves and Keldons alike howled and roared as they dashed themselves against the giant, hacking at its ankles and swiping arms as their leader blasted the monster with Keldon fire.

  The image filled Jeska with savage triumph, but beneath that was a solemn, melancholy ache. They had led the ’host into this battle under false pretenses, under the guise of battling the unnatural cold the time rifts had created in Keld. In truth they had come to Parma for the sole purpose of collecting this frost giant’s heart, of harvesting it and using it to empower the boy. War chiefs routinely decided which of their followers would live and die on the battlefield, but Radha had made this decision calmly and rationally: The boy would survive no matter what the future held and regardless of how many others died to secure his future.

  Next the three gazed up at the Yavimayan rift, fully aware of the forest’s intent and dreading the task before them. The phenomenon would kill the forest if left unchecked, but Multani hesitated to act. Would Yavimaya survive if its avatar were consumed? He was not afraid to risk his own life, his entire sense of self, for the good of the collective, but either logic or self-interest caused him to doubt the wisdom and effectiveness of such a sacrifice. Who would shepherd the hive-mind and represent its interests if Multani were gone?

  No answer came, and the three of them suddenly appeared atop a huge, stone dome. Kamahl was there, advancing on them with his great double-bladed axe at the ready.

  Jeska’s stomach dropped in an odd, slow kind of panic. This memory was hers but not hers. She had never battled her brother atop Averru’s main citadel. Karona had. For the first time Jeska saw directly out from Karona’s eyes, her own mind active and alert within the composite deity. She was unable to act, to command her body’s muscles or magic, but she was able to observe and experience Karona’s actions from within the false goddess’s fractured psyche.

  Nearly all of Jeska’s memories as Karona were flickering, half-glimpsed things, and with Radha and Multani along they were even harder to grasp. Now Jeska felt Karona’s monomania directly, experiencing her absolute conviction in her power, her divinity, and her right to rule. It was far more complicated and profound than the simple single-mindedness Jeska had recently admired in Radha. Where Radha simply didn’t consider anything outside her own immediate goals, Karona had considered every possible permutation and ramification of her actions and gone on in spite of them. Karona saw herself as the most wondrous and exalted creature that had ever lived, and as such the world’s future was hers to choose.

  Jeska hardened her resolve and painfully twisted free of the vision, using the jarring presence of Radha and Multani as a tether to pull herself back to the task at hand. Her vision fogged, and her stomach lurched, but as her equilibrium returned, Jeska found herself once more in the rotting deadfall that had half-permeated the Yavimayan rift.

  She had done this before. She knew the size and shape and scope of it. She had the will, the knowledge, and the power to do it, and with the Keldon firmly in hand, she also had the means. Straining through the resistance of Radha, Multani, and the rift, Jeska reached out, magically encircling the Yavimayan rift within the bounds of her own transcendent power.

  Jeska drew off the largest portion of the rift’s arcane substance that Radha could contain, then flooded the Keldon’s body with her own limitless strength. Alone, Jeska versus the rift would have been an even contest. Working through Radha and Multani, the Pardic woman was able to completely overwhelm the rift, choking it, burying it, and forcing it back upon itself to consume its own substance until there was nothing left.

  As in Zhalfir, a searing, white ring expanded from Radha’s body, stretching out beyond the edges of the deadfall and the clearing. The halo of arcane energy reached its limit and collapsed, squeezing every living thing within it into a fluid kaleidoscope of living tissue and vibrant color. The ring contracted, swiftly dragging its contents toward Radha until they disappeared into the warlord’s body.

  Jeska exhaled, letting the stress and strain dissipate. Thus she was unprepared for the unexpected burst of green mana that rushed back out of Radha and scattered itself over the empty acreage like a winter cloudburst. Jeska was buffeted back and hurled across the clearing, landing with a thud just shy of the wooden wall. Dazed but uninjured, the planeswalker took some small pride in the fact that she had not released Multani or Radha—the wooden face was still in her hand, and the warlord had been carried along by the same explosive rush.

  Radha was unconscious, or so drained that she appeared unconscious, but as long as the Keldon couldn’t talk it was an acceptable state of affairs. Multani was another story. The wooden face in her hands was now precisely that, a wooden face. There was no magic in it, no animation, and no sign of the green man. Jeska’s fingers creaked as she opened them and let the face slide to the ground.

  Nearly exhausted, Jeska looked up and was gratified to see the Yavimayan rift gone, along with the diseased deadfall that had housed it. She had not lost an entire civilization this time but only a single forest avatar who should have known better than to abuse a visiting planeswalker. It was a lesson she was happy to teach, though the teaching rendered her pupil incapable of applying what he had learned.

  She smiled to herself, both from the grim humor of her situation and her own lack of co
ncern. The Pardic people were not forgiving, and Multani had offended her to her very core.

  Jeska stood and dusted herself off. Progress, she thought. She had sealed two rifts in two days and was still fully capable of doing more. Teferi and Jhoira may have been at this longer than she, but she was better at it than they.

  She paused to bow her head over Multani’s lifeless face. Jeska collected Radha’s limp form and teleported away.

  * * *

  —

  Jhoira fought through the pain in her head and back and got to her feet. Teferi was awake but silent and motionless, and Venser was just starting to come around. The ambulator stood where they’d left it, safely nestled between the sea and the hedge of thorns.

  A hateful, awful sound ripped through the forest and washed over Jhoira like a wave. She jerked her head back toward the center of Yavimaya, but an agonizing bolt of pain shot through her neck and shoulders.

  The crippling sting paled in comparison to the despair she felt when she saw the dreadful, white halo expanding outward from the rift’s location.

  “Multani,” she muttered, knowing that she might never learn the avatar’s fate. At the peak of his power, Multani was almost impossible to kill, especially here in Yavimaya. Multani was far from his peak, and Jhoira had no idea how much of his strength had been sapped by the rift.

  “She did it.” Venser spoke from where he sat on the ground. “After all.”

  “The Yavimayan rift is sealed,” Teferi said. “And we have failed again.”

  Jhoira stood, listening intently. She was hoping for a glimmer, for the slightest trace of Multani to show.

  “Venser,” she said, “are you able to teleport back to the clearing?”

  “I think so. But what would be the point? Jeska didn’t stick around long after Zhalfir. She’s probably long gone, and Radha with her.” He paused. “If Radha’s still alive.”

  “It won’t take long,” Jhoira said. “Please.” She extended her hand. Venser stood on wobbly legs, found his balance, and came forward. As the artificer took hold, Jhoira turned to Teferi. The double catastrophe in Zhalfir and Yavimaya had broken his spirit, and she decided to leave him where he was to collect himself. “Stay put,” she said. “We’ll return shortly.”