Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [97]
Before her were thousands of nacatl: Marisi’s army. Marisi himself was nowhere to be seen, if it was truly him, but she knew he would be down there somewhere.
Zaliki approached. The breeze gossiped excitedly through the treetops all around them. Not a soldier moved on either side.
“Marisi!” she cried. “I call you out!”
There was no movement, only row after row of the eyes of her fellow Wild Nacatl.
“Marisi! You and I have a personal matter to settle. That matter is Jazal!”
Banners flapped in the breeze. Only after several long scans of the assembled army did she see movement. Nacatl warriors parted to make way for someone.
Marisi stepped forward. He was in war garb from head to foot, and carried a spear decorated with the teeth of behemoths.
“Hello, child,” Marisi said.
“Do you know who I am?” Zaliki asked.
“Is that you, child? Are you the young shaman of Jazal’s pride?”
“I am.”
“Then you were my servant for an important task.”
Her eyes were cold. “I was.”
“You did the right thing, then. You didn’t realize the enormity of what you had done, but I’m here to tell you now that it pushed the needle of history. Your actions resonated through this entire world—and, I’ve come to realize, much, much more.”
“I was a fool to plant that artifact,” Zaliki cried. “I was a fool to believe in you, and your message of freedom. I was a fool to distrust Jazal, and his belief that the sundering of our race was a mistake. It was worse than a mistake, though, wasn’t it? It was cold calculation. Your lies tore our people apart, Marisi, to spread hate and distrust among us. Today I’m here to stop them from tearing apart our world.”
“Child, you still don’t realize the role you’ve played,” Marisi said. “You don’t know how proud I am of you. Look around you. Two armies, ready to reenact a bloody battle a generation old. It all repeats, child. An escalation of power. A breaking of stone. I know you’re bitter, but you shouldn’t blame yourself. No one succeeds who stands in the way of prophecy.”
“There’s no prophecy, Marisi,” Zaliki said. “This is not going to happen again. Not this time. Not with me here.”
“I respect your bravery, and your misguided attempt to redeem your actions,” Marisi answered. “But it’s not up to you, child. Nor is it up to me. We are but pieces in a grand game. We’re here to play our role today, nothing more. I can say from experience—pretending otherwise only makes it worse.”
“I believed in you, old man,” said Zaliki. “I believed in your name. I believed in your message of freedom, as did my entire generation. How could you betray that trust?”
“Freedom is the luxury of the strong and the powerful,”
said Marisi. “I’m afraid we are neither. Goodbye, young Zaliki.”
With that, Marisi signaled to his Wild Nacatl. Zaliki turned and signaled to the Cloud Nacatl. A terrible roar went up, and the two armies launched at each other.
GRIXIS
He may only have been a glorified messenger, but Kaeda the aven didn’t take his orders lightly. Rafiq himself had given him his mission, to fly back to Bant ahead of them and warn them of the coming of Malfegor’s army. And he was determined to carry them out, no matter what might happen to him.
He outpaced the undead army rather easily. Some casters fired spells at him, and a small flock of diseased, black-feathered aven creatures tried to get in his way. But both attacks failed. He was a military-trained, thrice-decorated soldier of Valeron; they were half-living wretches whose minds were chained to a lord of evil. Furthermore, he found that the vigor of life and the power of his devotion to his cause were by themselves enough to give him an edge against any Grixis combatants he faced. The grim legion was relentless and brutal, but they had no spirit in them to fuel their might.
Kaeda cut a straight line from Grixis to Bant, flying as fast and as true as he could manage. Lightning flashed in the black clouds above him, occasionally buffeting him with booms