Return to Ravnica

Ral reached out to the elemental, from blocks away, and it responded. Its voice was a hurricane roar and its limbs were tornadic winds. Ral sliced his arm across the sky, pointing to the Azorius aerie. The storm elemental responded again, acknowledging the command with a peal of thunder. It rumbled down out of the sky toward the Azorius building. Gales chopped the air. Ral could see young griffins taking wing into the storm, and tumbling away like flung toys.

The other Izzet mages yelled to Ral, but he couldn’t hear them over the rushing winds.

At Ral’s command, the storm elemental descended on the spire. The creature snapped open its jaws, releasing a bolt of lightning that snaked down to the building with a flash. The top of the structure exploded with a blossom of sparks. Over the thunder and wind, Ral could hear the shrieks of griffins.

The side of the tower blew out, hurling chunks of masonry out into the plaza. People ran, covering their heads from the falling wreckage.

A phalanx of hussars appeared, gleaming weapons at the ready. They flanked an administrator, some sort of subminister or legislatocrat, who began reading a list of grievances and bylaws which they claimed Ral had broken. This struck Ral as extraordinarily funny.

Above them, the storm elemental raked at the tower with claws of lightning, leaving slashes in the stone and scattering all the remaining griffin mounts in every direction. The elemental cast its electric gaze down, and Ral looked up and beckoned it to him. It thundered a reply, and floated down, blanketing the plaza in a chaos of wind shot through with wild magical currents.

The subminster read her list of demands dutifully until the winds blew her scroll into the air and lightning blasted it to ash. All the Azorius faces wore grimaces. One by one, they withdrew.

Once the plaza was empty but for the Izzet mages, Ral squeezed his fist and opened it. The storm elemental whisked itself away into the sky, dissipating into mist. Thunder rolled in the distance, somewhere far beyond the horizon.

“Guildmage—er, Zarek, sir,” said the young mage, after the storm had subsided.

Ral didn’t turn.

“You were right. The mana braid continues up into the air from the trail we had followed. It passes through the tower, and then proceeds at an angle down to an adjacent rooftop.”

“We move on, then,” said Ral.

“There’s something else, sir. Researcher Klama died while fighting the Azorius, sir. She was trapped in one of their detention spells. When we, uh, dispersed the lawmages, she couldn’t get out. She suffocated.”

“We have much more to do,” said Ral. “Let’s not let the trail go cold again.”

***

The Golgari guild symbol was painted in white across the troll’s face like an albino insect mask. He was tall enough that Jace looked him straight in the chest. A bloom of shelf mushrooms grew across the hulking creature’s back and shoulders. His muscled body was crisscrossed with scar tissue—a burn scar on his shoulder, a jagged slash wound down his thigh, the scar of some kind of puncture on the side of his head—all healed over in rough, rigid scars. It was clear this troll got himself in a lot of fights, and it looked like his body was very good at healing damage, even if not prettily.

Judging by the way that the troll walked straight toward Jace without acknowledging him, it seemed that the mind-cloaking spell was doing its job. Jace kept his breath as silent as possible and tried to formulate a plan to exit before he was discovered, but the way out was blocked by the formidable troll.

The troll sniffed the air, huffing great breaths in through his nostrils. His biceps flexed as he swung his club back and forth in the dim tunnel, tearing through finger-thick strands of spider webbing. Jace remained as still as he could. He knew he should try to remain calm, so that he wouldn’t perspire and spread his scent around the chamber, and so that the thudding of his heartbeat wouldn’t give him away. Any evidence he revealed of himself might weaken his diverting illusion and let the troll notice him. But his body seemed to think this would be a good time to flood with panic. A beetle the size of Jace’s fist clambered up his leg, content to treat him as any other immobile obstacle. If the troll noticed, he didn’t give any indication.

Then without warning, the troll slammed his club into the wall of the tunnel, smashing another giant beetle to pulp. He grabbed the greenish remains that oozed from its shattered exoskeleton and wiped it on his tongue. He swallowed and smacked his lips indelicately. Jace pressed his hand to his mouth, but couldn’t quite stifle a groan.

The troll whirled around. “Who goes?” it roared. “Come out, darkling. I can smell the meat in you.”