Duel of the Gemini

Trap

The district of Balmora had been built piece by piece from a giant square in the centre out in every direction, each new construction designed to be the last until finally a spiralling maze like a vast catacomb had emerged. The countless dark corners and secluded alleys had become an attraction to criminal activity and the district had descended into a fierce territorial war, which culminated in a call for a purge from the guilds themselves. Barricades were built in the narrow streets to keep authorities out, but were abandoned when the bloodshed got too high. Now, deserted, the district of Balmora like so many others was caught in a war of other kind between the nomadic hunting parties of the Gruul and the reclamation auctions of the Orzhov. One person in particular was drawn to the seclusion and emptiness offered by the forgotten region: the Planeswalker Chandra Nalaar. She had told no one of her presence there, but knew it would not be long before she would have to move again. Power like hers could not be hidden, and this was exactly the information that Rakdos had provided to Sorin and Liliana. That morning, all the force the Cult could bring to bear descended on the once-thriving district.
The Cult members separated into their factions and bomber-parties, groups of about five or ten goblins, trolls and humans: the highest extent of Rakdos command structures. Lyzolda had asked  them to begin searching the decaying buildings for Chandra’s hideout. The chances of them finding it were extremely low, but it was expected that she wouldn’t take too kindly to the intrusion.  The two Planeswalkers gathered with the demon and the blood-witch on a flat rooftop overlooking the square, with a pair of hooded women serving as Lyzolda’s lieutenants. By midday reports started coming in of fights breaking out between the search groups.
“They are not used to working as a team,” Rakdos smirked, clearly approving of the show. “Nor do they like fruitless chases.”
“She is here,” Liliana chided. “We will find her.”
“I hope we’re not too late,” remarked Sorin.
“She will not leave Ravnica as long as she thinks the sword of Ajani is still in the Orzhov vault.”
A ragged-feathered bird flew up to the rooftop and landed on the shoulder of one of the lieutenants. In its beak a piece of paper bore a small burn that served as the Rakdos seal. The officer-witch took the note and read it quickly before speaking.
“They’ve found scorch marks down the west end.”
“We are getting close,” Lyzolda added, smiling.
The sound of an explosion rang out from somewhere to the north-west, followed by a crash as a large building fell to pieces. Shouts followed and several Rakdos starting running back through the alleyways and out into the square.
“She’s coming,” the witch whispered.
From their high vantage, the group could see flames pouring up over the tops of the buildings. The fire was moving, travelling the alleyways. The closer it got to the square the clearer they could see it: a moving inferno, flying around corners, as fast as lighting, decimating everything and everyone in its path. A Rakdos hunting party was running towards the sounds of falling buildings, weapons drawn and yelling war cries. They never even saw the fire stream as it turned the corner and passed straight through, not slowing, leaving ash and charred metal in its wake. By now the remaining Rakdos had gathered in a tight circle in the square, backs to the centre, weapons facing out. The fire was almost upon them, just a few more turns until the shadowy stone walls gave way. There was no time for retreat. The fire reached the point where the west-alleys opened to the central square, and vanished. The Rakdos hunters stayed in formation, scanning all the entrances to the square, some even looking up for an attack from above. Lyzolda was the first to see it.
“Behind you!” she screamed.
The inferno returned as a pillar of living flames which burst up from the middle of the ring of cultists and climbed spectacularly as though it were trying to scorch the sky. Moments later the magic holding the fire in place was abandoned, and the full force of the inferno was released in every direction, obliterating the small army surrounding it. When the smoke cleared, only Chandra Nalaar was left standing in the square.
There was no time to mourn the dead. They had done their part and it would be for nothing if those that remained failed in theirs. The rooftops surrounding the square came alive with the rest of the Rakdos special militia. Lyzolda’s witches dressing in their red and gold robes stood on compass-points, with Lyzolda herself in the lead. The square rang with their voices as they hurried through an incantation. The effect was immediate: the cracked pavement came alive with the red glow of activated magical inscriptions, and a giant sphere of energy descended over the burning Planeswalker, its form strengthened with every word from the chanting blood-witches.
The fire-mage wore mixed expressions of frustration and bemusement, and raised a fist to the nearest wall of her would-be prison. Flames rocketed out like cannon fire from her outstretched arm, hitting the energy wall with all the force of a concentrated explosion, but not damaging it. Her face changed to one of infuriation: she was not known for her patience. The volley ceased as she moved both arms above her head, palms skywards. The ground around her feet ignited on command, the fire burning brightly in circles around its master until it left the ground altogether, chasing her hands in wide spirals. The flames intensified and immediately grew to encompass the entire dome, moving faster and faster as Chandra added more fire. Lyzolda signalled that the dome was complete. Her coven immediately took cover behind the various statues on their rooftops. Rakdos took that as his cue.
“Attack!” His roar reverberated against the ruined buildings like a storm breaking.
A chorus of cheers and battle-cries accompanied the next wave. Every rooftop overlooking the burning square with the contained inferno at its centre came alive with berserk Rakdos cultists, organised loosely into small groups. Each group was carrying a heavy-looking ballista armed with a compliment of strange harpoons. The cultists positioned their weapons on the edges of the buildings with practiced efficiency before aiming them at the swirling vortex of fire. The enchanted runes glowed on the first of the harpoons as it was fired into the magical barrier. It passed through the magical dome unhindered, and was immediately lost in the inferno. The cheering redoubled and more groups began firing: a dozen of the sinister flying spears with glowing runes and thick chains connecting the inferno to the rooftops.
The witches reappeared and resumed chanting. Lyzolda did not join in, merely instructing the two Planeswalkers to watch closely the chains. Sorin and Liliana could both see the nearest chain being to glow, identical in colour to the barrier sphere. The glow got brighter as the chants continued and before long seemed to pulse.
The plan was working: Chandra’s legendary fire was being absorbed by the united forces of the Cult of Rakdos. For a moment it seemed as though they could actually defeat the Original of Fire. The swirling flames began to coalesce on a specific section of the dome, near the top but facing one of the rooftops. The force behind the small space grew relentlessly until finally the barrier was split apart, as though a seam had been torn with a knife. Fire poured out like endless cannon fire directly at the nearest Rakdos harpoon-gang, obliterating the rooftop.
Lyzolda called out to her coven, getting them back into synchronisation, and began to lead the chant herself. The rift healed within seconds and the process began again. Minutes passed before Chandra broke the barrier for a second time, this time near the stone-covered ground, the escaping fire writhing desperately in an attempt to sever as many of the chains as possible. Again the witches worked furiously to close the rift. The severed chains were quickly discarded, and new harpoons loaded to replace them. All but one hit its mark: the last was hit by the third barrier breach. Sorin and Liliana watched as the column of fire struck the rooftop which had until moments ago supported not only a harpoon-gang, but one of Lyzolda’s witches as well. For a brief moment they glanced at each other. Then black smoke filled the spaces where they’d stood and they were gone, off to the battered rooftop.
Arriving among the debris, Sorin wasted no time re-mounting the harpoon-launcher. Liliana had a different role to fill. Standing on the edge of the roof, she fell in line with the chants from the remaining witches. Across her face and arms runes like the ones on the chains themselves began to glow. Sorin could feel Black mana surging around them. With the power of a Planeswalker behind it, the barrier strength was redoubled, and the rift was sealed immediately. In the distance he could hear Lyzolda cackling wildly.
The crude weapon in front of him, like all Rakdos equipment, it looked exceedingly dangerous, not just to the target, but to the user. Magic was not needed to fire it, but there was something sadistic about the design: to utilise its power-draining capabilities, one needed a living conduit. An adjustable brace the size of an arm ran the length of the barrel and Sorin knew immediately that the technology would only work if he volunteered his limb to it. With a sick feeling he suddenly understood why it took an entire group of cultists to operate such a simple weapon.
He removed his still largely immobile left arm from the sleave inside his coat and put the hardened flesh into the brace. He took a moment to appreciate the renewed live-saving properties of the debilitating backlash from his fateful-hour enchantment, and fired the weapon. The bolt travelled the length of the square in an instant and entered the energy field. Immediately Chandra’s magic began to flow up the chain and through his left arm. It was only then that he noticed additional chains running from behind the cannon and down into the ruined buildings.
The battle afforded no time to think any further on the subject of the mysterious chains. With Liliana’s help the breaches on the barrier had ceased, and inside her prison Chandra’s fury was growing. The fire began to beat heavily against the wall in waves, rocking back and forth between the dome and the seal on the floor beneath her, producing tremors on the level of earthquakes. Sorin looked up to see Liliana slouching forward, hands resting on the raised stonework. Sweat had begun to appear down her forehead. He was sure the other witches would be in a similar state: the greater the assault on the dome, the more intensely they had to work to sustain their magic. After several minutes the damage began to show. The witch on the south side of the plaza collapsed where she stood, saved from failing off the rooftop by the nearest cultist. The dome reflected the loss immediately, and began to crack like the century old stonework below. Columns of fire shot out from holes all over the barrier, some hitting buildings, others flying harmlessly into the air.
Rakdos let out an angry yell: he was not ready for his trap to be broken yet. His great wings unfurled to their full potential, tripling his size. Taking to the air, he hurled himself into the plaza, landing next to the failing dome. With the fury of millennia, he put both his clawed hands on the wall of energy and roared out a command seal. The solidifying enchantment, not-unlike the one Sorin had used on his arm, reached out from where the demon stood, encompassing the entire dome, severing every chain as it passed. The assault was over; this was Rakdos’ final stand. The harpoon-gangs reacted with a mix of victory cheers and angry shouts on the subject of not getting to fight longer. Others simply collapsed with exhaustion. The remaining witches exchanged weary glances and vanished into the night. Sorin and Liliana just stood down and waited for the conclusion.
The demon’s new enchantment barrier would not last long. The same cracks which had characterised the final moments of the energy dome reappeared on the rock surface. Within seconds a rage of hellfire burst free and with all the fury of a volcano Chandra was loosed from her prison. The fires took on the well-known form of Chandra’s phoenix, a brilliant silhouette of flame in the form of the mythical bird, and carried the fire-mage’s body and soul in its elemental form away from the battle site.