Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [41]
“This thing feels … strange. Do you feel it?”
Zaliki’s eyes were blank, uncomprehending. “No. What do you mean?” she asked.
She wasn’t feeling it, which was a relief. He didn’t want her to know of his terrifying experiences on the volcanic world. Or maybe he should tell her everything: Jund, the dragons, Sarkhan, being a planeswalker. “I don’t know,” he said. “Never mind. The scales are just … strange.”
“Ajani, I know this experience has been terrible for you. But I hope that one day, you feel like you can move on.”
Ajani just wiped a streak of ash off the bowl. He looked into it and saw his own face, tinged with indigo, stretched across its surface. To find its source, he decided, he would have to travel back to Jund.
“I’ll be able to move on when I know the truth,” he said. “I won’t rest until I know it, and bring justice to the one who caused all this.”
“Well, I’m trying to move on, Ajani. I’m trying to live my life, and you should endeavor to do the same. Leave him be.”
“He needs to be avenged, Zaliki.”
“He doesn’t need anything. He’s gone, all right? He’s gone.”
“I know. But his spirit—”
“His spirit probably just wants you to forget about the whole thing. Jazal loved the pride more than anything, Ajani. Maybe his spirit would just want you to take his place as kha, did you ever think of that? We could use you around here. Think of your responsibilities.”
Ajani suppressed a low, guttural growl.
“Clean yourself up, Ajani. I—I can’t be around you right now.”
She left him alone by the fire pit. As he handled the dragonscale bowl, flakes of ash spun in circles around his face.
Was she right? Should he move on? Jazal was just a smear. Maybe he should just leave it be. He should be using the time to help the pride heal, to prevent Jazal’s work from splintering apart. Maybe dwelling on his death was just obsessive.
He moved a piece of burnt leather armor in the fire pit—again, he couldn’t help himself. His fingers were stained black. It was as if the pride had brought a pottery relic into the center of the village, and smashed it to the ground right in the open square, leaving the pieces where they lay.
“I know who killed you, Jazal,” he said. “Do you now?” said Jazal’s voice. “He’s always wanted to be kha. And he’s always hated me.”
“This is how you’re going to serve my memory?” “You’ll never rest otherwise,” said Ajani. “So neither can I.”
What remained of Jazal’s body lay right there before him in the fire pit, gray and crumbly. He couldn’t let his brother remain like that. He looked side to side, and reached into the fire pit once again, with both hands. He smudged his arms and legs with the ashes, and dribbled them over his mane. Then he sank into the shadows of the forest to find Tenoch.
JUND
The dragon’s silhouette broadened into a black shadow against the tumultuous scarlet cauldron of Jund’s sky. The goblins chittered and scratched themselves excitedly. Sarkhan realized that they weren’t just itching, but rather they were piercing their own skin with their claws.
“What are they doing?” asked Sarkhan.
“They’re preparing themselves,” said Rakka. “Goblins consider it an honor to be devoured by almighty dragons, the greatest predators in the world. The scent of the goblin blood drives dragons into a frenzy. Watch.”
The dragon’s wings blotted out the sky in great sweeps, blasting the mountaintop with gales of grit as he landed. He was immense, longer than any hellkite Sarkhan had ever seen. His scales were lustrous black, but didn’t behave the way he expected such a shine would; they reflected light in odd, distorted colors. The light of Jund’s sky swam across the beast’s body as a greenish gold oil slick instead of the smoky reds it should have. The creature’s feet touched down gently and precisely, a curiously fastidious gesture against the