"Here," the goblin said, shoving forward the hilt of a sword. Gerrard's mind was his own-his arm, his fingers. They clutched the pommel. There was no hesitation. He hurled the blade upward, past legs, past gripping thorax, past even the first cut he had made in Tsabo Tavoc's white belly. His blade bit through skin and muscle. It jabbed into gut, slicing it open.
Tsabo Tavoc's words ceased in the air. Her children watched in shocked horror. She jolted and stared down, stupefied.
"For Hanna!" Gerrard shouted. He heaved the sword again into Tsabo Tavoc's belly, ripping it wide.
The spider woman convulsed. Blood gushed hot from her. She gasped, clutching the filthy laceration.
Her minions winced back in shared agony. The leg that held Gerrard shuddered, loosening. "Let death improve you," Gerrard growled. He lanced the tip of the blade into the leg socket that held him.
Wires severed. Sparks flew. The leg went limp, dropping Gerrard. It felt glorious to fall that way, away from the feverish metal, away from the horrid mother of monsters.
He landed atop the book of glass and metal, atop the mirror pedestal.
Tsabo Tavoc hissed. Her three good legs gathered themselves to lunge.
Suddenly, the portal flickered and disappeared. A rock wall stood where once there had been a door to Phyrexia. The monsters that had been marching through that door were cut in half. Hunks of scale and flesh pattered down in a ghastly hail.
Tsabo Tavoc whirled. Her route to Yawgmoth was gone-her legions of demons, her escape. She didn't even have enough limbs left to hold Gerrard and walk.
Gerrard scrambled off the giant book, swinging his sword before him to clear a path.
The portal reappeared. Without even looking back at her quarry, at her armies, Tsabo Tavoc launched herself for the spot.
"Get back on de book!" Squee squealed. "Shut de door!"
Gerrard dived.
Tsabo Tavoc ambled over the corpses of her own troops. She flung herself through the portal.
Gerrard landed on the book.
The gate slammed shut. Only the blank cave wall remained- and the severed right cheek and arm of Tsabo Tavoc. The two hunks of meat flopped to the floor beside a bulbous cross section of her abdomen. The rest of her was on the other side, in Phyrexia.
"She escaped," Gerrard hissed angrily.
The Phyrexians, so long enspelled by their mother's words, now seemed to wake from a standing sleep. She was gone-they knew that first-and wounded and beyond their reach…
But only as long as the portal remained closed…
A wall of hackles, fangs, and claws rose up to tear Gerrard from the book. En masse, the Phyrexians lunged on him.
Chapter 37
Gerrard swung his sword. Four of the beasts flew back from the blow, hurled to the ceiling. Two were impaled on stalactites. Two more were broken by the impact. Before Gerrard could even swing again, another beast slumped forward across the pedestal, its torso shattered as though by some incredible force.
Gabbling, Gerrard raised his eyes to see the incredible force. "Karn!"
Gerrard's oldest friend and longtime guardian answered with a nod. The silver golem swept out his massive arms and clutched five more Phyrexians. He wrapped them in an embrace that broke them like shells in a nutcracker.
As he let their bodies slump sloppily to the floor, he rumbled, "For you, Gerrard, I will kill."
The man on the book nodded back, hacking his blade through beasts. Side by side, Gerrard and Karn fought the minions of Phyrexia.
The prison brigade lifted their swords in a cheer and brought them down in a killing hail. Phyrexians fell in scraps. An elven war cry ululated through the cavern. The Steel Leaf warriors fought with a new vengeance. Metathran blades carved monstrous flesh.
Cut off from their mother and their homeland, Phyrexians died. There were no more reserves. There was no escape. Dominarians marched down from chambers above, and they gave no quarter.
Blood-mantled horns splashed into glistening-oil. Segmented arms twitched in the gore. Stingers pumped venom from severed ducts. Natural spines were hacked in two. Unnatural spines squirmed from dying bodies.
Sisay repaid her hard knocks by lopping the head off a Phyrexian foot soldier. Orim sliced into monsters as though she were hacking cane. Tahngarth whipped his horns in a killing arc. Gerrard spitted a beast through the crown. Karn was a silver tornado, crushing and hurling Phyrexians. In the battle frenzy, Squee wisely clambered onto the golem's shoulders, lest he be mistaken for a monster.
In brutal moments, every scaly back and hackled head fell. One by one, the last Phyrexians died. One by one, swords ceased in the air. There was no flesh left to cleave.
Could it be the battle of Koilos was done? Could it be the battle was won? Dominarian troops flooded down, seeking a foe to slay.
"We did it," Gerrard whispered breathlessly. "Karn, we did it!"
Karn studied bloody hands. "Yes," he said heavily. "It is done."
Sitting astride the golem's shoulders, Squee let out a celebratory cry.
Sisay embraced Orim. "Sometimes the good guys do win."
Tahngarth only stood, gazing grimly at the wreckage all around.
The Steel Leaf elves lifted Eladamri on their shoulders and marched him across the battlefield.
A cavern that, moments before, had echoed with battle suddenly rang with celebration.
It was short-lived. Someone arrived from the caves above, someone whose aura had the same strange power as Tsabo Tavoc's.
Songs and shouts quieted. Everyone in the cavern looked up to see who had come.
It was the blind seer-but somehow, he was changed. His back was straight. The bandage was gone from his eyes, which beamed like twin jewels. His white linty hair had been replaced by spun gold. All the aged decrepitude was gone. In its place, there was a mantle of ancient power. He descended into the cavern along the same route Tsabo Tavoc had passed.
Corpses lay prostrate before him. Living warriors watched in wonder. Reverently, they went to their knees. As the blind seer made his way toward the mirror pedestal, every last creature dropped in obeisance.
Only Gerrard and Karn remained standing. Goldenhaired and white-robed, the great man approached the mirror pedestal.
Even Karn dropped to his knees.
Gerrard, his blood dripping down the glass and metal book, glanced incredulously at the silver golem.
Sword still out, he whispered, "You know him?"
"I know of him. I know-somehow-I know that he created me."
Gerrard stared open mouthed between Karn and the blind seer. "He created you?"
"Yes, I did," the man said. "I created Karn and the rest of your Legacy. I created even you."
Gerrard's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"I am Urza Planeswalker."
"You're what?"
"I am Urza Planeswalker."
"You're Urza Planeswalker?" Gerrard echoed incredulously. He glanced down at Karn, whose head remained bowed.
"Yes. I am the one who started all this. I am the beginning. You are the end. I have made you and your Legacy for this very hour."
Gerrard shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
A strange smile lit the man's face. "I have watched you fight, Gerrard. I have seen you command your ship, your crew. You have been everything I imagined and more. The result is this-victory at Koilos."
"You are the beginning, and I am the end…?"
The shimmering man gestured to the bloody book. "I first opened this portal by removing the powerstone that closed it. Even now, the two halves of that stone reside here, in my skull. They have made me what I am-Urza Planeswalker.