Will McDermott - Magic the Gathering - Odyssey Cycle 03 - Judgement

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Judgment

Will McDermott

Magic: the Gathering, Odyssey Cycle, Book 3

2002

Scanned, formatted and proofed by Dreamcity

Ebook version 1.0

Release Date: December, 18, 2003

CHAPTER 1

Kamahl stared at the black spot on the floor where his friend's body had been just moments before.

The spot that had once held a tortured soul now held nothing more than charcoal and dust. Kamahl hadn't

killed his friend, he had merely sent his body on to Fiers. No. Kuberr. That was the god of the Cabal. "Well,

Kuberr. I hope you'll accept a body sent to you by a proper barbarian funeral pyre," grumbled the big

barbarian as he knelt to honor his fallen friend a moment longer. "Chainer, you once wondered if you would

have made a good barbarian. Perhaps I have sent you to Fiers after all, so you can find out. Wouldn't that

be the final irony of our friendship?"

Kamahl scraped his brass-skinned hand through the dust chat once was his friend and clenched a

pinch of the blackened powder in his fist. After wetting the index finger of his other hand, he jabbed it into

the cavity of the fist-into the remains of Chainer in his palm. He then withdrew the finger, now covered in

wet, black dust, and brought it up to the bridge of his nose. Pressing the black paste against his skin, he

drew a line down over his nose to his mouth and then stuck the finger into his mouth to suck off the

remaining dust. Kamahl repeated the process three more times, drawing black, smudgy lines on both cheeks

and across his forehead.

"I send you on to Fiers but keep a part of you with me to guide my way to the Brass Halls, where we

will all remain after the return of the Lady," he intoned. For the first time in his life, Kamahl found himself

hoping that the old dwarven legends were true. "Perhaps you can find peace there, Chainer, even if it does

mean eternal life amongst the dwarves."

As Kamahl rose from the ritual, he glanced once again at the Mirari, still lying on the floor where

Chainer had dropped it right before the end. It seemed like an eternity since he had first seen that accursed

orb. Kamahl was still full of hope at the possibilities that the power of the Mirari could bring, if only he could

gain it for himself.

"Full of hope and full of pride," the barbarian said to his friend's ashes. No. Kamahl hadn't killed

Chainer. His friend had died when he became a slave to that power. The one man who had ever wielded

the power of the Mirari and survived had been consumed by that power in the end. How could Kamahl

ever hope to find the strength to control that much power?

He must try. He had made a promise to a friend. An oath. And death does not revoke an oath, it

forges the bonds of the oath into steel. Standing over the small, fist-sized orb that he had chased across a

continent and back, Kamahl hesitated but a moment before leaning down and swiping it into his hand.

Once he held the Mirari, Kamahl wondered why he had ever hesitated. It was the most beautiful

object in the world. The Mirari drew his gaze down into its sleek, steely depths, down into a world where

rust-colored mountains met cool, azure skies, down into a world where he stood at the top of the tallest

mountain, his huge sword held high with the Mirari attached to its pommel, silver light streaming out from it

in all directions, down into a world where barbarians from every tribe bowed before him, cheering his name.

Holding his sword point down before him, Kamahl smiled as he looked from the Mirari to the great

mountain, from the barbarian throngs at his feet to the cloudless, blue sky above him. His smile faded. For

high in the sky, Kamahl could see the face of a barbarian staring down at him-a face with four coal-black

lines freshly drawn across the nose, cheeks, and forehead. His face.

Kamahl shook his head to clear the vision from his mind. "No! That path leads to madness," said the

tired and inured barbarian as he dropped the orb back into the rubble. "That path leads to destruction."

Kamahl scanned the hall, looking for his sword. "All I need to conquer the mountains is my strength

and my sword. ... If I can find it."

A glint of steel in the comer caught the large barbarian's attention. He walked over, stooped down, and

tossed several cask-sized chunks of rock out of the way to dig out his sword. Kamahl's father had given

him this sword upon his completion of Balthor's Judgment and becoming a man, just as he had gotten it from

his father. The sword had towered over Kamahl at the time. Now the pommel only reached his chest when

he stuck the point into the ground.

Clearing the last of the debris from atop the sword, Kamahl stared at the weapon with a mixture of

wonder and dread. The mighty weapon lie there, gleaming in all its glory, with the Mirari attached to the

pommel.

Kamahl might have stood there all day, staring at what moments ago had been merely a dream,

wondering if his own power or the orb's had caused the fusion, the unmistakable sound of swords being

drawn from scabbards broke his reverie. The brass-skinned man thrust his foot forward and popped the

two-handed sword straight up into the air. Catching the hilt in his right hand, Kamahl whirled around on his

would-be attackers, swinging his sword in a wide arc.

The surprised Order soldier looked at the severed haft of his own blade and then down at the swath

the huge sword had cut across his chest. With blood streaming down his armor, the soldier crumpled to the

ground next to the top half of his own sword.

Kamahl surveyed the now-crowded hallway. He held his sword, glowing red-hot from cross bar to tip,

firmly in both hands and pointed it at the throng of Order soldiers blocking his path.

"I'm in no mood for you today, Order butchers," growled the barbarian.

The eyes of the stunned soldiers in the front ranks darted back and forth between their fallen comrade

and the angry barbarian as they began to back away.

From behind, a voice rang out, "Hold to, men! He has the orb." The lieutenant stepped forward,

pushing his men out of the way to face Kamahl. "You have done a great service to the Order today,

barbarian," he said, smiling. "The Cabal is finished. We owe you a debt of gratitude. Just give us the Mirari,

and you may leave unharmed."

"Take it," spat Kamahl as he thrust his sword toward the lieutenant's smiling face. The lieutenant dived

underneath the stab and rolled to his feet beside Kamahl. The other Order soldiers advanced, moving in as

Kamahl's balance rocked forward after the missed attack.

Kamahl used his momentum to cany him past the first rank of soldiers, then buried his six-foot-long

sword into the chest of a sergeant in the second rank. The barbarian swung back around to face the

soldiers he left behind, the body of the sergeant still impaled on his sword. He flung the limp body into the

advancing soldiers. All three flew back through the rubble-strewn hall into Chainer's chambers, landing with

a dull thud.

Kamahl shifted his attention back to the lieutenant, whose sword and armor now glowed from

protective enchantments.

"We know who you are, Kamahl," said the lieutenant, stepping forward as he spoke, but Kamahl

noticed a quiver in the man's voice. "You are the Butcher!" he continued. "You destroyed the Citadel, killed

Captain Pianna and Lieutenant Kirtar. Now you have destroyed Cabal City, killing the Cabal First and who

knows how many innocent people. While I applaud the death of any Cabal member, you will pay for every

Order death with your head."

Kamahl knew better than to refute the myths that sprouted up around him, especially to an

indoctrinated member of the Order. "I have no quarrel with you, Order man. 1 have what I came for. Let

me leave, or I will add you to the list of the dead." With that, the barbarian turned on his heels and advanced

on the last two Order soldiers barring his path.

"Face me, Butcher!" screamed the lieutenant. Kamahl could hear the soldier running up behind him.

Without even glancing back, Kamahl whipped his sword up over his head, bringing it straight down behind

him in a fast arc. The tip of the sword met the top of the lieutenant's helmet, and Kamahl's biceps bulged as

he drove the sword down through the officer's skull, chest, and abdomen, never once touching the

enchanted armor or sword. With a screech, Kamahl's sword drove down into the floor, giving the lieutenant

a third leg.

Kamahl released his sword, which stayed perfectly still holding up the frame of the dead lieutenant,

and stared at the two remaining soldiers, privates both.

"Leave. Now," he stated, simply. Glancing first at each other and then briefly at the barbarian and the

carnage behind him, the two privates turned and fled back down the corridor.

Kamahl turned back to the Order lieutenant, who now resembled a scarecrow more than a soldier.

Grasping the hilt of his sword with both hands, the barbarian heaved the sword out of the stone floor and

high up over his head once again, allowing the limp body to crumple to the floor beside his dead soldiers.

"You never told me your name. 1 guess I won't be able to add you to that list after all," muttered

Kamahl as he wiped the blood from his blade on the lieutenant's pants.

Kamahl sheathed his sword, no longer glowing with the power of the orb, slung the sheath over his

shoulders, and trotted down the hallway looking for an exit.

The pit was dark and silent. A single ray of light penetrated the gloom from the hole Kamahl had

blasted in the wall during the battle Chainer had started just an hour earlier. That contest was to decide the

fate of the Mirari but had instead sealed the fate of both Chainer and the Cabal. Picking his way through

the dead bodies and pools of blood, Kamahl glanced one last time at the box where Chainer had presided

over the pit for the first and last time.

"Goodbye my friend," said the barbarian.

The chaotic scene outside the pit was dramatically different from the deathly calm inside. Looters

smashed windows and grabbed goods. Gangs of thugs roamed the streets picking fights. Children stood by

ruined homes and tossed bricks, shards of glass, or broken chunks of mortar at Order patrols, dogs, and any

adult who came too close.

While technically a city of thieves and cutthroats, Cabal City had been, until an hour ago, an orderly

town governed by the power of greed-governed by the Cabal. But then Chainer had used the Mirari to try

to destroy the city, to wipe the Cabal clean so he could rebuild it in his own visage. The Cabal was no

longer here. Orderly greed had been replaced with wanton avarice.

Twice before, Kamahl had seen the power of the Mirari manifested with disastrous results. The first

time was in the Citadel, capital city of the Order, when Lieutenant Kirtar brought a final and irrevocable

order to the city, freezing all within the orb's extensive radius in the perfection of icy crystals. The second

use Kamahl had only seen from afar but had been able to piece enough information together to know that

the Emperor of the Mer Empire had set off the Mirari for some unknown reason, flooding much of northern

Otaria and destroying the Mer capital in the backwash.

Today, his friend Chainer had succumbed to the power of the Mirari and unleashed the demented

terrors inside his mind upon Cabal City. The blue sky had tuned a mustard color, and the landscape of the

city had been replaced with a kind of hell. Now, the sky was blue once more, the streets were again made

of stone, and the hellish creatures that had spewed forth from Chainer's mind were entombed inside

Chainer's crypt for all time.

But the Cabal was no more, and Cabal City was quickly destroying itself without the control that the

Cabal had given its citizens over their own demons.

"I swear I will not succumb to your seductive power," Kamahl muttered as much to himself as to the

Mirari. "Either I will control you, or I will bury you deep beneath Otaria if I have to. But I will not allow you

to destroy lives again."

Kamahl stood for a moment surveying the riots raging through the streets, watching the ebb and flow

of the chaos swirling around him, looking for an opening that would allow him to discretely leave the pit and

make his way out of the city. Unlike the natural chaos of fire, which obeyed certain rules he had learned

early in his life, human chaos offered too many variables to discern a meaningful pattern.

I could wait for nightfall and slip out amongst the deepening shadows, thought Kamahl, or I could just

try the direct approach. He strode out into the street, keeping a wary eye on the looters, gangs, and

unwanted urchins of Cabal City.

As Kamahl walked down the street, the rioters parted before him as waves part before the prow of a

ship. And like a ship cutting through the waves, Kamahl built up and make of people behind him, as the

citizens of Cabal City, who moments before had no purpose left in their lives but to finish destroying their

own city, found purpose once again in the object that had destroyed their lives.

Kamahl could hear the calls and murmurs coming from his wake.

"He has the orb."

"Challenge him for it."

"I challenge you, barbarian!"

"No, I do!"

The challenges multiplied as more people joined the wake, but Kamahl looked closely at each new

member of his entourage as he passed and felt safe. They were all shop workers, kids, and students. None

of them had the air of a jack, a pit fighter, and none seemed willing to attack.

Order patrols held back as well while the procession moved through the streets. Whether the two

privates Kamahl spared earlier had spread the word of his newfound power, or whether they merely didn't

like their odds against the growing band of angry citizens, Kamahl didn't know and didn't care. He would

much prefer to leave the city without having to wield his orb-empowered sword again.

That hope faded as Kamahl came to the hill leading up to the gate. At the top stood Bullock, a burly

dementia summoner Kamahl had seen in the pits but had never faced.

"Hail, Bullock," called Kamahl as he began up the hill.

"Stop where you are, barbarian," called Bullock. "The orb belongs to us. I challenge you in the name of

the Cabal for the orb."

"But the Cabal is no longer here," replied Kamahl, continuing his ascent up the hill.

"I am here," said Bullock. "That is all you need care about." With that, the cabalist clapped his

gauntleted fists together in front of his face and began murmuring his dementia summons.

Kamahl stopped halfway up the hill and reluctantly drew his sword. He had hoped to get closer to

Bullock before the summoning began, but that couldn't be helped now. Bullock was a devotee of Chainer's

style in the pit. He used his dementia monsters to soften up and distract an opponent, then moved into melee

for the win. But where Chainer manifested chains that he whipped around and flung with deadly accuracy,

Bullock used his fists, with the nasty addition of spikes that grew out of the gauntlets he wore.

Kamahl was more than a match for Bullock on any normal day, but he was exhausted from the fight

with Chainer and couldn't afford to let the large jack wrestle him to the ground. Better to stay at range for

now, thought Kamahl, setting his feet on the incline and holding the massive sword, glowing red-hot again, in

front of him.

Bullock spread his forearms apart in front of his face, creating a dark, roiling cloud of energy. From

that cloud sprung three large, black lions with long tentacles where their manes should be. The monstrous

felines advanced on Kamahl, spreading out to either side, their tentacles whipping back and forth.

Kamahl had seen this ploy before. The cats would encircle the jack and wrap their tentacles around

his limbs, immobilizing the fighter so Bullock could enter the fray unmolested. What Kamahl didn't know

was how long those tentacles were, a fact he learned as the first creature flung several tentacles toward

Kamahl's hands from nearly twenty feet away.

The barbarian slashed down in a circle, cutting the tentacles off at the tip. The strange feline howled,

sounding more like a wolf than a cat. The second black lion leaped high in the air, lashing its tentacles down

at Kamahl as it passed over his head. At the same time, the third creature bounded to Kamahl's left and

whipped its tentacles toward the barbarian's feet.

Kamahl reached up at the tentacles above him, letting the ropelike membranes encircle his wrist and

forearm. He pulled down hard and swung his body around, tossing the leaping cat at the creature to his left.

As the two beasts collided, Kamahl raised his sword in his other hand, sighted on the tumbling creatures and

let loose a jet of flame that engulfed both cats in a ball of fire.

The third cat landed its front paws on Kamahl's chest, slamming the barbarian onto his back and

pinning his sword arm against the ground. The barbarian could hear Bullock chuckling as he advanced on

his pinned foe.

"That's two thousand pounds of fury on your chest, barbarian. I doubt even you could lift it from that

position."

Bullock was right. With the massive cat sitting on his chest and his left arm pinned to the ground,

Kamahl could barely move. He tried to lift his head to see how close Bullock was, but the lion beast

clapped its jaws over his neck, slamming his head back down onto the ground.

"I don't want to kill you, Kamahl," said Bullock. "Yield, and I'll just take the orb and let you leave,

escorted by my friends of course."

Kamahl could hear the padding feet of two new beasts coming up beside him.

"I pledged my life to protect the orb," wheezed the barbarian through the pressure on his larynx. "If

you want it, you'll have to kill me."

"If that is what you wish," came the reply.

Kamahl summoned his strength and punched at the beast's ribs with his free hand, trying to topple it.

Just as his blow landed, a searing pain shot through his body as the tentacles from the two new beasts

lashed at him, wrapping themselves around his arms and legs.

As the tentacles tightened their grip, cutting into his exposed flesh, Kamahl felt as if he'd been

punctured by hundreds of tiny needles. Then a sudden wave of nausea almost overtook the barbarian,

causing bile to well up in his throat. The beasts must be injecting poison through their tentacles, thought

Kamahl.

"I do not wish to kill you," said Bullock, "but you give me no other choice. The Mirari belongs to the

Cabal."

Kamahl heard the words, but they echoed inside his head as if his skull were a cavernous tomb. He

had to focus through the pain, through the poisoned barbs, and locate Bullock.

"I told you," Kamahl rasped, barely able to form words. The Cabal is no longer here!"

"And I told you," replied Bullock. "I am here, and that is all you need care about."

This time, Kamahl closed his eyes and concentrated as Bullock spoke, focusing on nothing but the

jack's taunt. Kamahl managed to twisted his left wrist just enough under the weight of the massive beast's

paw to raise the tip of his sword off the ground. With the blackness creeping over him, Kamahl shot a beam

of lightning from the end of his sword.

The bolt streaked up the hill and slammed into the knees of the burly Cabalist, disintegrating the

cartilage that held the kneecaps together and ripping muscle from the bones of his legs. Bullock fell forward

on his face, his legs no longer able to support his large frame, and passed out. His creations immediately

faded.

No longer pinned to the ground but still groggy from the lingering poison, Kamahl slowly pulled himself

to his feet and surveyed the crowd. As a show of strength, he raised the sword level with his shoulders and

turned a complete circle, menacing the gathered spectators with the power of his weapon. None seemed

willing to challenge him anymore, so Kamahl walked as steadily as he could the rest of the way up the hill

before anyone grew brave. Luckily, his lightning beam had continued past Bullock's legs and smashed into

and through the gate. Kamahl stepped through the hole and left Cabal City.

An hour later, as twilight descended upon the plains outside the city and some of his strength had

returned, Kamahl came upon three familiar figures. The barbarian had brought with him several apprentices

to the final battle for the Mirari. He had sent them all packing midway through the battle when he left to

face Chainer. Kamahl was glad to have the company again. He was tired of fighting everyone he met.

"Well met, boys!" called Kamahl as he came up behind the three mountain mages.

The apprentices turned to face their teacher and almost as one, focused upon the Mirari attached to

the end of Kamahl's sword hilt.

"You have it!" the eldest called before the other two could react.

"Yes," sighed the weary barbarian. "Though it cost me the life of my best friend."

"May I have the right to first challenge, Kamahl?" replied the eager student. "Only the strong shall

prevail. It is the way of the mountain."

CHAPTER 2

Laquatas, former mer ambassador to the now-defunct Cabal City, former advisor to the now-dead

Emperor Aboshan, and former failed usurper of the still-ruling Empress Llawan, was not a happy merman.

He floated in a circle around his chamber, looking at velum-coated maps tacked onto sea urchins, flipping

his tail methodically to move precisely from one map to the next.

"Nothing!" roared the angry mer as he ripped a map off the wall and flung it toward the corner of the

room. As the ambassador slumped into his chair, the torn map floated to the floor next to the stoic Burke,

the mer's jack. Burke was a bruise-black lump of a humanoid, with no eyes, no nose, and no mouth.

Completely featureless, he looked like nothing more than an unfinished statue standing in the corner.

Yet at a mental command from Laquatas, Burke stooped over, retrieved a crumpled-up map from

behind him, swam effortlessly to the wall, and tacked the map onto the urchins.

Laquatas watched Burke and thought hack to the day that Chainer had created the jack for him, back

before the Mirari destroyed the young dementia summoner, and with him the ambassador's chance to take

over Llawan's throne. On that fateful day, just weeks earlier, Chainer had dispatched dementia creatures to

aid in the ambassador's civil war, but those reinforcements disappeared at a crucial moment. Laquatas had

felt the surge of power and subsequent shift in the Mirari from Chainer to Kamahl and had deduced what

had happened to his mercenaries.

Now I am stranded in this damnable chasm by that sea witch's trickery, thought Laquatas as he

slammed his fists on the table, dislodging the snails that held yet another map spread out before him. That

was what galled the ambassador the most. He had been outmaneuvered, outwitted, and outsmarted by the

Empress-a cephalid. A female cephalid!

"I will kill her!" screamed Laquatas as he slammed his fist down on the nearest snail, smashing it into

powder and sludge.

Now the ambassador spent most of his days in this chamber, waiting for word from one of his

subordinates that somebody had found a way to get his armies past the magical barriers that Llawan's

sorcerers had created to trap him in this large, worthless, underwater prison.

Laquatas altered his tail into two long legs with a thought and plopped his legs up on the table. He

began contemplating the horrible tortures he would inflict upon Llawan once he had tracked down and killed

that brutish barbarian and taken the Mirari from his cold, dead hands. A knock at the door broke Laquatas

out of his favorite reverie. "Come," yelled the ambassador, looking up at the door.

The door slid open slowly, and a crablike creature scuttled into the room. "I have news for you, sir,

from your royal mages."

As soon as Laquatas saw the crab enter the room, he knew she bore bad news. Her name was

Simone, a minor bureaucrat who had joined his rebellion only when it looked as if he would win. Nothing

more than a bean counter during her days in the empire, she had no real value in the chasm.

Laquatas only remembered her name because she had the annoying habit of wearing her abacus on a

long chain on her back. The fact that his senior advisors had sent Simone in to deliver the news told

Laquatas to expect the worst. He wasn't disappointed.

"The council of mages has determined that levitation is not a viable alternative. The constant winds

that assail the cliffs of Onara are simply too treacherous, and they cannot control the ascent long enough to

reach the top...." Her voice trailed off as Laquatas flipped his legs off the table, transformed them back into

a tail, and floated up from the chair.

"Go on," smiled Laquatas. "I'm sure you have more to report."

Simone scuttled back a step before continuing. "The mages say they have lost fully two dozen subjects

in their trials, and they are hesitant to continue the experiments lest they severely deplete our forces."

"Is that all?" asked Laquatas, gliding toward the back of the room.

"N-no, sir," replied Simone, her voice quivering even more.

"I didn't think so," said Laquatas, smiling once again at the crab. "Please, tell me everything. I need to

know."

"Your mages have also finished their research on the portals that have sealed us in the chasm,"

continued the crab. "They report that it is impossible to destroy the portals from inside the chasm, and that

even if we had some way to escape, they would not have enough power to destroy the portal generators,

even from the outside."

Laquatas flipped his tail violently, spinning around to face the chittering crab. "How am I to destroy an

empire when 1 can barely get a frog out of this prison alive, let alone unleash my army on Mer City?"

bellowed the mer as the silver-tipped horns on his head began to glow.

Simone tried to scuttle out the door, hut before she even got a claw on the latch, the water around her

began to seethe and roil as the liquid's temperature rose sharply. The water around Simone reached a boil,

and bubbles appeared all over her reddening shell. They floated up to the ceiling where they created a

growing pocket of air. Simone turned to face the ambassador, her face contorted by the pain of being boiled

alive. Before she could speak again, her heart burst from the heat, and her claws sagged.

Laquatas continued to boil the crab for several minutes, watching her body tumble in the heated water.

Some of the heat made its way to the back of the room where the ambassador floated, but he had enjoyed

saunas during his decadent days amongst the land walkers in Cabal City and knew his limits. He ended the

spell long before he was in any danger.

The report finished and his anger soothed for the moment, the ambassador decided to return to his

maps once again to look for some means of escape. As he turned, Laquatas noticed the torn map still on

the floor near Burke, and his horns flashed again as the anger welled up at the incompetence surrounding

him. The lanky mer quelled his temper quickly, though, for he knew of no way to actually punish a creature

that had no bones he could break or organs he could boil. So he simply picked up the map, intending to put it

back himself. But as the ambassador turned toward the wall, he noticed that where there should have been

a bare space, there was, in fact, a map.

"What is this?" asked Laquatas as he swam over to the wall. The map Burke had retrieved showed

little more than a large, blackened-in representation of the chasm.

"Veza's map," sneered the ambassador. "Her little joke come back to haunt me again."

The black map had materialized within the barrier only a few days after his defeat, along with a

message from the empress's pet mer, Veza. Laquatas had tried to turn her against Llawan, but in the end,

the mer bitch had turned on Laquatas. This was her final barb: a blackened-in survey map of the trench

with the words "Loqar's Folly" scrawled across the top. Laquatas had crumpled the map and tossed it into

the comer of the room, vowing vengeance against Veza and her cephalid ruler.

Laquatas looked back at where Simone floated by the door. "You see this he said to Simone. "She is

the one I should boil. She and her precious empress. The gall of that mermaid to help trap me here and then

send me a featureless map as a present."

Laquatas ripped the map off the wall and floated over to show it to the dead crab.

"A picture of my prison, you see?" he said. "I squirm in this black hole like a tuna enveloped in squid's

ink while they sit out there, in my throne room, and laugh at me."

Laquatas stared at the map as the anger welled up inside him again. Completely featureless, just like

the huge prison cell he had been tricked into, the map was useless except to fuel his anger.

"Not like these other maps, no!" ranted the mer as he turned to survey the room. "These show me

everything and nothing at the same time. They show me a prison that I can leave anytime I wish, for I have

the power to escape by myself, just not the power to destroy the walls and unleash my army."

Turning back to Simone, Laquatas tossed the map onto the crab's still-hot shell.

"And what is a ruler without his army?" he asked jetting around the room and preaching to the walls.

"I'll tell you-a dead ruler. So here I stay, a prisoner of my own making in a cold, black cell."

As the map lay on Simone's heated shell, an inky cloud began to rise, turning the water above the crab

black. Irritated that the blasted map would not go away, Laquatas swam back over to rip it to shreds and be

done with it once and for all. But as he swished his hand through the cloud to clear the water, Laquatas

noticed that the black ink covering the map was liquefying from the heat and lifting off the velum, showing

details underneath the inkblot.

The mer began to rub the map lightly to clean away the black area. Underneath was a complete

topographical survey map of the chasm and the surrounding area, just as Veza had promised in her note.

Whether by design or by accident, the empress's mer had given Laquatas a more detailed map of the trench

than even his own squid engineers had been able to produce.

Laquatas scanned the survey lines closely. Much of the detail was lost on the mer, for he was no

cartographer. But one feature-a system of underground canals marked on the inland portions of the map-he

instantly recognized.

The mer empire had long used subterranean canals to spy upon and stage raids within the towns of the

dry landers. Some of these water-filled canals went as far inland as the foothills of the Pardic Mountains.

Laquatas had never seen the canals shown on Veza's map before. They must be long forgotten and rarely

used, although it appeared they connected to the entire subterranean system. More importantly, one of the

canals marked on Veza's map came quite close to the cliffs of Onara.

"Loqar's Folly?" muttered Laquatas. "I would call this Veza's Folly, for you have given me the key to

my cell, you stupid girl. The key to my ultimate victory over you and your empress."

Turning to the door, the ambassador yelled, "Talbot!" The door opened, and a merman swam into the

room. Not as tall as the former ambassador, and with horns and scales tinted a metallic greenish-blue

instead of Laquatas's more regal silvery-blue, Talbot was, nevertheless, one of the few noble mermen left in

the seas surrounding Otaria. He had come to the rebellion very early on and had risen quickly to sit at

Laquatas's right hand.

"Yes, Lord Laquatas."

'Talbot," said Laquatas as he pointed at the canals on the map, "I believe your old friend Veza has

given us a valuable gift-a permanent route out of this Norda-forsaken pit."

"Really?" said Talbot, cocking his head to look both at the map and at Laquatas. "That is very unlike

her." "I agree," said the mer, smiling. "And we shall definitely repay her for her many kindnesses as soon as

we find a way to access the canals on this map. I want you to take the map and a team of squid engineers

out to the cliffs of Onara to determine if we can open up a tunnel to the canals."

"Yes, my lord," replied Talbot as he took the map and rolled it up. "Shall I dispose of this refuse for you

as well, sir?"

"Simone?" asked Laquatas. "Heavens no. We owe this fine subject our debt of gratitude. She has

shown us the route to freedom. No. Simone will be my guest for dinner tonight as a reward for her loyal

support."

As Talbot left the room, Laquatas grabbed the chain draped across Simone's shell and pulled her

lifeless body over to his table, letting it settle onto the map. Changing form into a legged mer once again,

Laquatas sat in his chair and mentally called for Burke. As commanded, the strong, yet viscous creature

extended and slid an arm up into Simone's shell, breaking open the carapace, so Laquatas could feast on the

succulent pink flesh underneath.

*****

"In honor of the great service you have given to us, Veza, we would like to give you a little gift,"

purred Empress Llawan as her tentacles undulated around the arms of her throne.

That is not necessary, my Empress," replied Veza kneeling before the throne, her legs covered by a

long, shimmering gown. The tailless mermaid could almost feel the stares of the nobles in the gallery upon

her. Try as she might, she had been unable to change back into her tailed form since Burke had broken her

ankle during the battle, and she knew she had become the talk of the court.

Now, surrounded by the denizens of the deep-the cephalids, the crabs, the prawns, the sharks-all the

noble houses of Empress Llawan's underwater kingdom, she felt very much alone. Not only was she the

lone mer in the empire, but she wasn't a proper mer at all. She had no tail! Polite applause from the

gathered nobles startled Veza from her reverie.

"Veza?" called Llawan.

"Yes, Empress?" asked Veza, still kneeling.

"I said, 'You may rise, Ambassador Veza.' " repeated the empress.

"Thank you, Empress," replied Veza as she regained her feet. Ambassador, thought Veza? What just

happened here? Veza followed the empress's entourage out of the royal hall, down a luminescent, shell-like

corridor, and into the royal dining room.

"Sit next to me, and we shall discuss your first assignment, Ambassador," called the empress from the

head of the procession.

"Yes, Empress," replied Veza automatically. But her mind was already racing ahead, trying to deduce

the meaning behind her appointment as ambassador. It's obvious, actually, thought Veza. I am to be outcast

once again. Emperor Aboshan sent all of the mer away out of distrust, or fear, or loathing. That's how

Laquatas became an ambassador to that backwater Cabal City, and that's how I ended up as a lowly

harbor master.

Veza took her seat next to the empress and continued pondering as she worked her way through the

kelp salad and krill sauce. The empress came to me because I was an outsider to both courts, thought

Veza. She knew she could trust me. I had no power base of my own. Now that the civil war is over and

Laquatas's forces are imprisoned, Llawan has no need for my loyalty, so she's sending me away again.

"I suppose you are wondering why we have made you an ambassador, Veza," began Llawan as her

attendants cleared the salad orbs to ready for the main course.

"The question had crossed my mind," replied Veza.

"Yes, we could tell you were lost in thought," remarked the empress. "You do tend to chew on your

lower lip when you are pondering a difficult problem. I'm surprised you have any skin left on that lip after all

the problems you have solved for us."

Thank you, Empress. You are too kind," said Veza as she thought to herself, here it comes. Damn

with faint praise to soften the blow, and then lower the boom.

"We have a very important mission, actually two very important missions for you. But, unfortunately,

to accomplish these missions, you will have to leave us ... for a time," continued Llawan. "I need you go to

Aphetto and be my ambassador to the southern Cabal. You leave tomorrow."

"Another mer ambassador to the Cabal, Empress?" said Veza as she took a sip of jellyfish wine from

her bulb to bolster her courage. "Aren't you afraid that I will turn on you as Laquatas turned on Aboshan?

Are you that ashamed of my presence here that you would risk that?"

"My dear, we would keep you by our side always if we could. Yours is the best counsel we receive.

This is not a punishment. We need your loyalty again, Veza. We need you to be our eyes and ears within

the Cabal. We hope that the First does look upon you as another Laquatas. For if he does, he will greatly

underestimate you."

Into the awkward silence that followed, the attendants brought forth the main course for Veza's

farewell banquet, stuffed sea cucumbers and steamed anemones.

"Veza," began Llawan again after taking a few bites of the twin delicacies. "My dear friend, Veza.

We ... I need you in Aphetto now. But you will return and stay by my side when all this it finished."

"Yes, Empress. But must I leave so soon? I am still having some trouble with my ... ankle."

"Yes, Veza," replied the empress. "Laquatas's forces will not remain trapped in the prison we have

fashioned for him forever. We know him too well. And when he does escape, he will try to reestablish his

contacts in the Cabal. It is vitally important that we get there first."

*****

Laquatas once again floated near his desk, scanning the map that lay there. Only this time it was a

map of all Otaria.

"We are nearly there, Burke," the ambassador said to his stoic companion. Laquatas knew Burke

would not answer- could not answer. He had neither vocal cords nor lungs to push air past them. But that

made Burke the perfect companion. Burke listened to all of the ambassador's ideas and never once

contradicted his master.

"The engineers should break through today, and then we will be free," continued Laquatas. "But what

is freedom without power, hmmm? The canals will give me access to the mainland, but I cannot launch my

attack on the empress until I can destroy her portals."

The ambassador pointed to a lobster claw placed in the middle of the map. "There is where the power

is," said the mer. "I can feel the Mirari moving toward the mountains in the hands of that blasted barbarian.

With that power, my mages can destroy the portals, and I can seek my revenge on those who imprisoned

us." A knock came at the door.

"Come," called the ambassador. The door opened, and Talbot floated into the room.

Ah, good news at last, thought Laquatas, seeing his senior advisor enter.

"My lord," said Talbot. "The squids have broken through to the canals. The chief engineer reports it

will take several days to shore up the tunnel, but we have access to the mainland at last!"

"Excellent news, Talbot," exclaimed Laquatas. "Now it is time to retake that which is rightfully ours."

"But, sire, our forces are still no match for the empress's army!" cried Talbot, cringing immediately as

he realized what he had said. -

"Relax Talbot," smiled Laquatas. "I do understand the need for more power before we can challenge

the empress. But I have a plan." Laquatas gestured to Talbot to come closer. "Take a look at this map."

As Talbot swam closer, the ambassador pointed to the red claw again. "Here is the Mirari headed for

the Pardic Mountains. You will notice that our canals do not reach past the foothills. A problem? No. An

opportunity."

Laquatas traced his webbed hand southeast from the mountains to a small square printed on the map

that Laquatas had surrounded with black pearls.

"This is Aphetto, site of the southern pits. If we can trust what little information we have been able to

gather, we know that the Cabal First was exiled there. By now, he will have cemented a power base that

we can use to launch an attack on the mountains."

"I see," grinned Talbot. "You will use the Cabal to get the Mirari out of the mountains. A cunning plan,

Sire.""Not quite cunning enough, I'm afraid, Talbot," replied Laquatas. "The First is a powerful ally but also a

chaotic and fearsome enemy. He will want the Mirari back as the prize in his new arena, and I cannot just

take it from him. For that, I will need the help of a more orderly and less powerful ally."

The ambassador traced his fingers north, past the Pardic Mountains, past the Krosan forest, to a large

rectangle-the Order Citadel-surrounded by a circle of white pearls.

Laquatas swam around the desk to Talbot. "You will go to

phetto as my ambassador to the Cabal. Request an immediate audience with the First, and take a

scrying mirror with you so that 1 may lay out my plans to him personally."

"But wouldn't a personal visit carry more weight with the First?" asked Talbot.

"Perhaps," replied the ambassador, "but it cannot be helped. 1 must set the rest of my plan into motion

as well, and that 1 must do in person. You know how the Order loathes the use of artifacts."

The ambassador ushered Talbot to the door. "Now, go!" he said. "This must be done with all due

haste. The empress may be a cephalid, but she is not stupid. She will eventually establish a relationship with

the Cabal to further cement her power base. It is vitally important that we get there first."

CHAPTER 3

Laquatas knew his way through the tunnels that led to the Citadel. He'd swum them before in his

pursuit of the Mirari. Yes, he knew these damnable tunnels all too well, but this time they would be his

salvation.

"Perhaps when 1 am emperor, I will rename them 'the Northern Laquatas tunnels,' " mused the former

ambassador.

As before, Laquatas opened the portal to the surface well outside the walls of the Citadel for himself

and his new jack, Burke.

"Mustn't alarm the locals," he told Burke. "If the land dwellers knew about our little system of tunnels

beneath their precious continent, they would find it hard to sleep at night. And we want them asleep when

we finally do attack."

Taking a moment to change to his legged form, Laquatas urged Burke through the portal to scout

ahead. Laquatas could no longer smell the odors or feel the sensations of his jack, as he could with Turg,

for Burke had no sensory organs. But he could still see through the eyeless face atop the bruise-black lump

of matter that made up the body of Laquatas's bodyguard and enforcer.

All was still on the plains above him. The first streaks of light were seeping into the air at the horizon

as dawn crept across the land.

"Perfect," said Laquatas. At this hour, no one would be about and he could reach the gates of the

Citadel by midmorning, claiming to have camped in the plains during the night. A moment later, Laquatas

slid through the pool of liquid mana, his horns gleaming in the first light of morning, his long legs dripping

water onto the portal, where it disappeared back beneath the ground.

By the time Laquatas reached the Citadel, he was once again in a foul mood. The two hours it took to

reach the gates were torture to his muscles, which had not needed to support his body's weight in quite

some time. In addition, his beautiful, luminescent skin had quickly dehydrated and begun to crack in the dry

air of the plains. So, when he was challenged by Order guards at the gates to the city, Laquatas's rage

boiled over.

A quick mental command to Burke, and the jack extended his forearms past the merman to grab both

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JudgmentWillMcDermottMagic:theGathering,OdysseyCycle,Book32002Scanned,formattedandproofedbyDreamcityEbookversion1.0ReleaseDate:December,18,2003CHAPTER1Kamahlstaredattheblackspotonthefloorwherehisfriend'sbodyhadbeenjustmomentsbefore.Thespotthathadonceheldatorturedsoulnowheldnothingmorethancharcoaland...

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