Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [89]
“I need her alive, Kresh,” Ajani warned.
“You’re worse than a pawn, Kresh,” Rakka said. “You’re the pawn who thinks he’s the sovereign. That’s of no use to anybody.” She stepped forward toward him, her hands crackling. “If you were smarter, smart enough to understand your stupidity, then there could be a place for you in my master’s world, or in mine. We could find you quite useful. But as it is”—she continued stepping forward—“you’ll serve me much better dead.”
Rakka thrust her arms forward, discharging a bolt of lightning directly into Kresh. The bolt hit him like a charging animal; the impact lifted him off the ground and threw him back two body lengths. He landed on the ground and rolled to a stop, face down.
Ajani rushed over to him and knelt down beside him. The man was alive, but his body trembled and twitched. There was a black mark on his back, from which wafted a wisp of ugly-smelling smoke.
Kresh’s warriors pointed spears straight at Rakka.
“Hold it,” Ajani told them, and they didn’t advance. Ajani looked up at the shaman. “This ends here,” he said to her. “You’ll stand down, and then you’ll tell me what I need to know.” He knelt there with his hand on Kresh, trying to call upon the sun-drenched glades of Naya as he spoke. “Or I’ll add you to the trail of bodies I’ve left behind me.”
“I’ve not seen your kind, otherworlder,” she said. She folded her hands and looked him up and down. “But I can see the strength in you. You’ve got a deep spirit—it feels a bit like another being I know.”
Ajani’s fingers touched Kresh’s back. He could feel the burn wound ripped inside of him, traveling all the way through the man’s body. He sent a spell into the man, and felt the tissues realigning and the organs mending.
“That’s what I’ve come for, Rakka,” said Ajani. “I want to meet your master, Nicol Bolas.”
“Oh, his reputation precedes him, then? That’s good. He’s always looking for powerful recruits, so I think he would like that very much. He’s far away from here, but I could lead you to him.” she said. “But, I’m afraid that’s going to cost you.” She stretched her hands out, drawing a web of electricity between them.
“What do you want?”
She smirked, and nodded to the fallen Kresh. “Him,” she said. Then she gestured with her head to the rest of Kresh’s warriors. “And all of them. Dead. By your hand.”
The warriors murmured angrily.
“Calm down, calm down,” said Ajani. “That’s not going to happen, Rakka. What if I take this axe, and put it to your skinny throat, and just threaten to kill you instead?”
“Killing me won’t get you to my master.” Her voice went grave. “And believe me, I won’t break from threat of pain, or by pain itself. I’ll go insane first.”
Ajani’s eyes narrowed.
“Besides,” she said, twisting threads of lightning between her bony fingers, “I’ve been trying out some new magics recently, new elements from a whole other world. It’s quite powerful; I’m not sure I’m able to handle it. Who knows? I could be liable to kill myself at any moment.” The glow of the energy lit her face from below, shading her eyes.
Ajani’s anger rose. He was almost certain he could destroy the older woman with one swift motion, but he didn’t know anyone else on the plane who could lead him to his goal, to seek revenge on Bolas. Without her, he could never get to the source of the conspiracy. Without her he was lost. She was his last hope.
“Time’s up, brother,” said Jazal’s voice inside his head. “Your vengeance, or your friends. What will it be?”
GRIXIS
Rafiq crashed through the door of the small hermitage. Protective carvings around the door frame blasted blue fire blasted at him, but it only rolled off the wards carved in his armor. In the darkness he saw the points of a sword, and fell into a defensive stance, but relaxed when he saw that, indeed, it was a living human who held the blade.
A bearded man held a sword at Rafiq, and behind him huddled a woman, her hands