SUDDEN terror, given time
Displaces all emotions that are mine
Falling long, into shadow
My heart founders, my soul’s aglow
Like the burning sun, the burning star
My soul fights the daemons near and far
Before it dies, before my demise
I shalt take ye with thee, and I shalt despise
Your eyes, those beautiful eyes
* * *
The lament of the Magus was heard by none, his grief and his torment not seen by those most close to him. While he carried out his duties to his employer, the Peddler Jéne E. Ilk, while he protected The Tavern and all those that were within its boundaries, while he stood vigil over his allotted territory even in his sleep, the Magus had grown tired and had grown weary. Such may explain why he lost the battle against his fellow planeswalkers some weeks ago.
Right now he sat in deep meditation in his darkened chamber, allowing the waters of his vision well and the fires of the dream torches to play with images from the past, present, and future. As the images filtered into his mind and the soothing smell of pungent incense permeated the air of the room, the man in the centre of this arrangement inhaled deep, held his breath, then exhaled longingly. Calm returned to his heart.
A bell sounded, ringing its high-pitched chime across the space between the walls. The Magus paused before opening his eyes, allowing mystical bluish energy to escape them. He blinked once to prevent further emission from his eyes, then rose from his cushion and went to the door.
The door was a solid brick wall, immovable and stoic in appearance. To receive his message, the Magus stood in front of the wall and placed a palm against the masonry, accepting the vocal delivery without being seen.
Jéne E.’s voice was heard saying, “It’s show time.”
* * *
It was another sell-out night for Zarin the Entertainer, his cast and crew showered with applause and flowers and a standing ovation. Amongst the audience was Hafiz Naga who dropped by on no important business, still wearing his unusual mask and a handsome smile. Several staff members of The Tavern were given the night off to witness the performance, a marvellous reward for their dedication and contribution to the business.
Standing to one side of the stage was Jéne E. who was marking off articles on a check list. Promotion for The Tavern, done. Buffet dinner, done. Zarin’s five-star performance, done. He scratched his skull with the blunt end of the pencil just as a thundering sound shook the building.
He looked up and whispered, “God have mercy on us all.”
As the clouds parted in hasty retreat, revealing the fleet of airships that crowded the sky, the patrons of The Tavern suspended their activities to gaze in wonder at this unusual display. But there were those that knew what was happening, and among these few, many started to panic.
Zarin went backstage to change into something more comfortable, passing by the spot where Jéne E. once stood. That spot was now empty, and so was the chair that Naga occupied. The two men were walking down the corridors of The Tavern, ultimately reaching a door upon which Jéne E. knocked. It was opened almost immediately by a man whose room was cluttered with machines and inventions, many of them half-built. Jéne E. and Naga pushed their way in and the machinist closed and locked the door after them.
“The airships,” said the machinist. “The airships are my own design! What are they doing here on this world?”
Jéne E. inspected the sheets of schematics the machinist had dumped on his bed. He said, “Simply put, they were stolen and built in secret on this world. I’m assuming they have more firepower than what The Tavern shields are able to absorb.”
On seeing the look of confusion on the machinist’s face, Naga explained, “They have come to take possession of the planeswalking engine. With the engine at their disposal, they can hop to a different world, a world with less military power, and conquer it. From there, they will increase their forces and conquer a second world, then a third, and so forth.”
“Then why are we not planeswalking away?” the machinist asked. “What’s keeping us here?”
The Captain of The Tavern shifted the curtains from the window to see a myriad of colours in the air outside. He beckoned the machinist to come closer before saying, “Planeswalk inhibitor field. As long as the field is active, we can’t move, not even an inch.”
The multicoloured beams of light emanated from the ships in the sky, all of them focused on the building below. Unless they attacked the ships to reduce the light’s concentration, there was little chance of escape.
>Continued in part 2
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