Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [34]
The dragon hesitated, looking once at Ajani. Then it turned and dived into the valley adjacent to the mountain. It swooped along the chasm floor, then with a series of powerful flaps of its wings, soared up and over the next cliffs and out of sight.
The man helped Ajani up. “I’m Sarkhan Vol,” he said. His accent was strange, thick and guttural, like no human speech Ajani had ever heard.
“Ajani. Ajani Goldmane.”
“You’re a long way from home, Ajani Goldmane.”
“What … place is this?”
“This world is Jund,” said Sarkhan. “A savage, primordial land. It’s my home, for now. And yours, if you’d like it to be.”
“This is not my home,” said Ajani. “I’m from the Qasali Valley, which is—” Ajani broke off and looked around. He didn’t know which direction to look.
“Not on this plane,” Sarkhan finished. “You don’t know, do you?” he asked. Ajani had trouble reading the man’s expression. Was his smirk amused, or devious?
“Know what? What does that mean?”
“It means you’re no longer on Naya. You’ve traveled to an entirely different world, planeswalker.”
The man was making no sense.
“Deal with all that later,” said Sarkhan. “Karrthus won’t stay away for long. Come on.”
Ajani followed Sarkhan around the ledge, climbing higher and higher up the mountain. The heat rose as they went. Should he turn around and leave this strange man’s company? He had no better plan than to follow him, and try to learn what he should do.
“What’s your purpose, planeswalker?” Sarkhan asked him. “What fuels you? What drives you to do more than you ever could?”
Ajani paused. “Revenge.”
Sarkhan laughed vigorously. “That’s about the best answer you could have given. Who wronged you?”
“I don’t know. Someone murdered my brother. I don’t even know if it was real.”
“Your anger is real. Don’t worry. You’ll have ample opportunities to nurture that anger, and eventually, when you find the right target, to express it.”
As they walked, Ajani’s fists shook. “I feel like I could explode.”
Sarkhan stopped and turned back to look at him. “No. That’s not the right road, my friend. It’s not that you want to burst into pieces yourself—what does that get you? This murder, it’s not your fault. It’s the outside world that is the target of your rage. You feel it encroaching on you, pressing down on your identity. What you’re feeling is the need to push the world back.”
“How can I do that?”
“By believing in your own instincts. By letting your ferocity out of its cage of despair and self-doubt. By being the animal you are.” He grinned broadly, showing his teeth. “My destination is ahead. Come, tell me of your story as we walk.”
They walked farther up the mountain pass. The winds were balmy blasts, thick with sulfur and the taste of soot, and Ajani had to wait for pauses in order to speak. He found it odd to tell the stranger of his world and the events that led to his plight, but the human seemed to understand, and with the understanding came a measure of comfort.
The heat became intense as they ascended, and Ajani was struck by the pulsing perception of mana nearby. It was mana of fire, mana of bitter rage, mana of immediacy and freedom and chaos. It was alluring, glorious. Ajani’s heart raced, and his breathing quickened.
As he finished his story, Ajani saw flares of molten lava bursting up above the ridge ahead.
“What the hell are we—”
“This is what I wanted you to see, my friend! This is the Sweltering Cauldron, my favorite source of mana on Jund. I needed to come here to recharge my spirit, and it may inspire you as well.”
The trail ended at the rim of a volcanic caldera, filled almost to the brim with seething red lava. The air above the caldera wobbled and distorted, and the entire front side of Ajani’s body was bathed in almost unbearable heat. The mana that flowed around and through the caldera was abundant and intoxicating. He felt like his fur was burning, but he couldn’t look away.
“You want to know how I pushed Karrthus away?” Sarkhan asked.
Ajani nodded.