Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [59]
“Liar,” Ajani roared, raising the axe again.
“It was. Your pride is Wild Nacatl. Let it stay that way. Don’t try to reach out to the Cloud Nacatl, as your brother tried to do. Don’t ask dangerous questions, or try to break down the master’s plans. It’s not about the Coil, it was never about the Coil, it’s …”
“What master? You’d better start making sense in a hurry,” said Ajani.
There was a tremor under their feet. The earth bucked and tossed like a skittish animal, shaking all the trees around them. It stopped as quickly as it had started, but the rumbling sound, a profound snarl deep underground, spread throughout the valley, echoing from hill to hill and on up through the mountains. The procession of elves down in the valley looked distressed.
“Oh, gods, it’s happening,” said Marisi.
“Jazal,” demanded Ajani. “What did you do to Jazal?”
“Kill me, quickly! Before it all happens.”
“Why? Before what happens? Tell me, now!”
Marisi’s eyes flashed with fire. The strings inside his mind were snapping. “It doesn’t matter—even if you don’t kill me, we’ll all be dead soon,” he snarled. “You’ll perish, just like the rest of them. You can’t stop him. The dragon is much too big for you, for me, for this world, for all the worlds. Nicol Bolas will consume us all!”
Another quake hit—far stronger than the first. The earth beneath their feet launched upward, sending Marisi and Ajani into the air. Marisi fell against a tree, knocking the wind out of him. The white-furred nacatl tumbled down the hill trail into the elves’ valley, where the elves themselves were toppled to the ground all around the ancient Relic.
Marisi didn’t wait to see what became of the white cat, or to see what disaster he had wrought in the Valley of Progenitus, or even for his breath to fully return. He took the opportunity to steal away into the mountains.
Perhaps it was a sign, he thought as he climbed into the mists. He would never get out from under the claws of Bolas; he could never be his own person. “Marisi” was nothing but the lies wrapped around his name. But at least he could take pride in one truth—that the lie had power. The lie could still inspire the hearts of warriors, and he could still wield that lie like a sharpened spear.
NAYA
Ajani’s rolling fall was halted by a prone gargantuan, the same beast that Ajani had seen the elves riding before. Its body lay clumsily on the ground as its huge legs tried to find purchase. The beast harrumphed in annoyance through its mouth harness.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” asked a feminine voice.
Ajani looked up and saw that he was surrounded by elves. There were dozens of them, noble smooth-skins with sharp features and elegantly swept-back ears, all in the hand-embroidered robes of ceremony. The one who had spoken, a young elf girl with flowers in her dark hair, appeared to be in charge.
Ajani looked around for Marisi, but the old nacatl had disappeared. Next he checked for his axe. He spotted it nearby, but one of the girl’s attendants stepped on it with his foot, shaking his head, and Ajani didn’t reach for it. Instead he addressed the girl.
“Forgive me for trespassing, elves,” he said. “I am Ajani of the Wild Nacatl. I sought a nacatl near here, but he escaped … when the earth shook. What happened?”
“We do not know,” said the elf girl. Her syllables formed a steady rhythm, not quite a melody, but with a rising and falling tone that sounded like a pulsing heart. “But now you must go. This is a holy place, not meant for your kind, and we have business here.”
Ajani beheld the Relic of Progenitus. He had heard of the place, reported to be the resting place of the elves’ hydra-god, Progenitus. The mound on which the stone disk rested had shifted during the earthquake, and it stood precariously slanted.
“I fear you are in danger here,” Ajani said.
In the underbrush near the Relic, he spied a bowl