Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [102]
Malfegor’s army marched past the mana maelstrom, but the draconic demon stopped. He regarded the storm of mana, letting it whip at his body. It was huge; it filled a depression the size of an inverted mountain. All the naked power swirling before him—it was overwhelmingly seductive. He could just reach out, he thought, and consume it for himself—he was going to do what instead, be Bolas’s errand boy? He had trudged for weeks with thousands of corpses just to pass the thing by? Bolas had promised Malfegor the remains of Alara once he had fed from its energy, but promises were worthless. He felt betrayal behind Bolas’s every word. And with the power contained in that maelstrom, Malfegor could just take the plane for himself.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Bolas.
A dragon-shaped silhouette separated from the black sky over the maelstrom and formed into the elder dragon.
“A childish prank,” said Malfegor. “It’s beneath you.”
“A prudent one,” said Bolas. “Tsk. You thought I wouldn’t be monitoring your corrupt and blackened soul?”
“Watch all you want, master,” said Malfegor, his wings spreading like dark flame. “One word, and this army attacks whatever I say. They could do great violence to an old lizard like you.”
“You took longer to get to this point than I expected. Is this how you survived since Alara’s beginnings? By waiting for temptation to slap you in the face? I’m surprised. I believed you actually had some promise.”
Malfegor stepped forward, imposing in his rage.
“You forget,” said Bolas. “You have plenty to lose here. I may have a rough time with you and your army, but this mana storm is unstable. Without my influence, it might just rupture at any time. I’m a planeswalker, what do I care? If you try to harvest it, and fail miserably as you certainly would, I will just leave. You, however, will have to stay here, and deal with the consequences.”
Malfegor looked into the maelstrom. Spikes of energy lashed out randomly as it swirled in on itself.
“I know it’s hard for a demon to understand consequences,” Bolas said with mock pity. “But it’s true. I leave, and the cataclysm destroys Alara and everything in it. Even if you survived, you’d have no world left to call your own. A demon lord with no kingdom to rule—such a shame!”
Malfegor seethed. “You’ll die someday, planeswalker,” he said. “And somehow, some way, I swear I’ll be there to see it.”
“Doubtful, on both counts,” said Bolas. “But I appreciate the threatening tone—it does suit you. Now, I think you had an errand to run for me? Activating the last obelisk, so that my project can be complete?”
Malfegor’s chest burned with swallowed pride. He turned, and directed his wrath on his minions. “Move!” he roared to the army, marching on to Bant. He cracked his lash, striking across the backs of every one of his generals in turn, each blow more savage than the last.
BANT
As Rafiq of the Many rode over the hill to the ruins of Giltspire Castle, he saw a glorious thing. The castle was gone, but the brilliant white obelisk remained in its place. And in front of the obelisk, facing him, was a line of siege engines, mounted knights, and a sea of thousands upon thousands of foot soldiers. Above them, aven circled in formation, and in the glare of the sun he could even make out the outlines of a few angels.
If only he would see the face of that mightiest archangel, Asha herself, he thought. She must be somewhere. It was the battle that was prophesied in the Prayer of Asha. It wasn’t just going to be a simple battle—it was the demon Malfegor, in the flesh, the very same demon Asha died to destroy at the dawn of their recorded tales. Except he hadn’t been destroyed. He had only hidden out in the dead world of Grixis while the five worlds were separated. With their reunion, the demonic abomination was back. If only Asha could return from death to fight demonic forces once more, just as the Prayer foretold. Doubt and belief struggled for domination in Rafiq’s heart; he knew that Asha’s appearance was the key to winning the war, and that if she didn’t show, all