Magic The Gathering - Masquerade Cycle Book 01 - Mercadian Masques by Magic The Gathering

Author:Magic The Gathering [Gathering, Magic The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: OCRed & Converted by Evil Punker, Magic: the Gathering Novel
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

"Fewsteem, I want you to lead the march back up out of the crater."

"Yes, Cap'n."

"I'll bring up the rear." Then, turning back to Ramos, Gerrard said, "We thank you for this gift, great Ramos, and for the chance to prove you wrong."

"I dearly wish you could do so," the dragon engine said.

"Perhaps you can prove yourself wrong. Perhaps you can be united with the Uniter," Gerrard said.

"Perhaps." With that single mournful word, the ancient Phyrexian dragon engine coiled back into his nest. Wings flapped, stirring storms of sand to settle over him.

The crew of Weatherlight turned and started back

across the bowl.

As they ascended the side of the crater, Ramos's

warnings were borne out. One by one, the inner light of

the stones guttered and failed.

Sisay's stone—the Skull of Ramos—flickered tepidly,

its blue gleam disappearing by the time she stepped from the crater.

"It's dead, just as he said," Sisay muttered, sadly shaking her head.

The others gathered, showing similarly dark stones.

Gerrard joined them, staring down.

"Well, that's it," Takara said bleakly. "We've come all this way, chasing a lie."

Gerrard patting her and Sisay on the back. "No. It's not a lie. This morning I would have had doubts but not now.

We'll camp with the dryads tonight. I need a night to

think. The answer lies here somewhere."

Takara sighed angrily. "Well, while you're holding on to hope, I'll hold on to hate." She gestured toward the 267

Mercadian Masques

bloody ground where Ilcaster had died. "We'll be sleeping among the folk that killed your crew, Gerrard. I forgot how skillful you are at burying your friends."

* * * * *

The rest of the day was spent burying the remains of

Ilcaster and holding a memorial for him and Tallakaster.

Gerrard and Weatherlight's crew made their camp in the

dryad glade nearby. All the while, the tree folk watched them, hemming them in lest they should try to escape with the stones.

When night came, the dryads simply faded away into

darkness. Gerrard had a vague impression that somehow

they were absorbed into the trees themselves and remained there until they had renewed their energy. Only the elders of the wood folk remained visible—standing in a line at

the edge of the clearing.

While the rest of the crew bedded down, Gerrard

approached the chief of the dryads. He lifted his hands in a sign of peace and sank to the ground cross-legged. The

chief imitated him, though the others remained standing.

The Benalian took the Heart of Ramos from his breast

pocket. Holding it up, he pointed to it and tapped it

sharply.

The dryad chief stretched out a slender, long-fingered

hand. Gerrard held out the powerstone, and the chief took it. He held it up, closed his eyes, and made a sound that resembled a single, clear note of a bell. The tone resonated until it filled the air. The trees themselves seemed to

vibrate.

The dryad lowered his hand. In its center was the

powerstone, and within its heart there now glowed a

distinct spark of energy.

268

Fancis Lebaron

Gerrard gave a whoop that brought the others running.

The dryad sprang back in alarm.

Weatherlight's commander gestured frantically to the

others. "Sit," he hissed.

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