"Where are we?" Eladamri asked.
"Below the courtiers' apartments," Takara said. "Over there are the Dream Halls."
Reduced to just four, the rebels hurried on. The passages already echoed with the sound of massed soldiers. The sweat on Eladamri's neck began to go cold. This was the sort of end he feared most-hunted, dying by inches, like a beast at bay. Compared to this, even the torture chamber was preferable. He'd resigned himself to death the moment Greven and his moggs had chained him to the wall. That he survived was a great victory, and for a while he allowed himself to hope they might escape. Now the coils of Rathi power were slowly enveloping them. His brave fighters were dying one by one, and the end seemed inevitable.
Like an animate hedge of spears, a wall of guards blocked the passage in front of them. Refusing several calls to surrender, the rebels retraced their steps to the top of the spiral ramp. Even as they reached the landing, they could see a stream of armed men surging up the ramp from below.
"Not good, not good," Medd kept repeating.
"We need another place to go-now," said Kireno.
Takara pointed. "The only place left is the Dream Halls, but the doors are sealed, and only the evincar can open them!"
Eladamri urged his friends to follow. "If I'm to die, I'd rather do so in a place called the Dream Halls than in a common, crowded corridor like this."
Shamus, the fastest of the group, overtook the elf chieftain and reached the enormous double doors first. He slammed his shoulder against the right panel, and to his surprise, the door yielded.
Two hundred soldiers and guards pursued the rebels to the very doors of the Dream Halls. Some paused to cast spears at the fleeing party, but all missed. Kireno, Medd, Takara, and Eladamri slipped through the open door. When their leader was through, the warriors threw themselves against the door. When it was shut, Medd slammed the massive foot bolt into the floor, locking it. Shamus and Takara slid a huge horizontal bolt into place as well.
Kireno and Medd laughed at their near escape. Shamus paced back and forth in front of the doors. Takara slumped to the floor.
Eladamri alone walked deeper into the Dream Halls. The vast dimensions, the frowning pilasters decorated with busts of Volrath-it all somehow reminded him of a strange forest clearing lined with lofty black trees.
He fingered the wooden fetish hanging from his neck. His instincts were right again. This would be a good place to die.
CHAPTER 20
She vanished in the wink of an eye. Even against the constant stabbing brightness of the energy stream, the flash of Crovax's departure with Belbe was intense. Ertai felt the displaced air and excess power lap over him, a whisper against a roar.
He rolled onto his hands and knees and began to crawl. It was a long way from the edge of death to the theater of the living.
The crowd did not dare leave the convocation hall. Restless but also afraid of what might happen to them if they didn't bear witness to the ascension of Crovax, they remained in the hall, sweating and itching in their uncomfortable finery. An hour passed, then another, and a third was underway when a silent stroke of lightning blinded everyone, and a hot wind stirred the robes and gowns of the assembled court. Crovax had returned with Belbe in his arms.
The Corps of Sergeants, who had been at ease, snapped to attention. Courtiers old and young struggled to their feet or smoothed their heavy ceremonial robes. Without a word of explanation, Crovax sat down on the throne. The emissary of the overlords leaned on the arm of the great chair, a hand over her tightly shut eyes.
"Excellency, we're here," said Crovax. "Do your duty," he insisted.
She inhaled. "People of Rath," she began in a small voice. "I ask you all to forgive my weakness. The overlords set me the task of finding a new ruler for Rath, and with due diligence I tried to find the best candidate. I didn't realize until this moment the search was a sham, that the choice had already been made by the overlords even as I was being dispatched on my mission to Rath."
"Say what you came to say," said Crovax, growing impatient.
Belbe faced the audience. "I regret what I am compelled to say now. I give you the new evincar-"
"Stop!"
Crovax leaped to his feet. "Who dares interrupt?"
Two figures cleaved through the crowd-Greven il-Vec and the Kor chief, Furah.
"Greven, I'll have your head in an iron cage for this. I'll roast your brains over a slow fire, and even then I won't let you die-"
"Save your threats, my lord," said Greven. "There are more important matters to deal with."
The sergeants tried to bar his way, but Greven easily broke their linked arms apart. More of the Corps broke formation to box the hulking warrior in, but Crovax ordered them to let Greven and the Kor through.
"Why aren't you writhing on the floor?" Crovax demanded. "Your spine should be smoking by now."
"You're not the only one who commands the control rod," Greven said. "What you order, another can countermand."
"Nonsense! No one dares interfere with my will!"
Furah stepped forward. He bowed slightly and smiled, showing long, feline teeth.
"I've long looked forward to meeting you," he said. "Greven has told me of your activities."
"Who are you?" demanded Crovax.
"I am the one that chair belongs to. You, Crovax of Urborg, are a usurper."
Crovax lowered his head. The flowstone around Furah's feet rippled in a series of tiny points, but none grew more than an inch, and none came close to harming him. The Kor chief, in his turn, spread his hands wide. A stream of flowstone balls, the size of Greven's head, burst from the walls and pounded Crovax. The last and largest ball struck him hard in the chest and drove Crovax backward over the arms of the throne. Belbe leaped aside, staring at Furah in utter disbelief.
The crowd jostled and elbowed each other for a better look at this unexpected challenge to Crovax. Those in front regretted their eagerness when the pavement beneath their feet erupted in a hedge of spikes. Dozens were impaled where they stood, and the ring of spikes completely walled off Furah and Greven from the rest of the room. Crovax appeared from behind the throne. Blood from a cut lip flecked his once spotless white tunic.
"You command flowstone well," Crovax said, descending the shallow steps. "Who are you?"
"I thought you would've guessed by now. Greven said you lacked imagination for anything but killing, but I'd hoped he was mistaken." He glanced at his giant companion. "Greven's a stout fighter, but he sometimes lacks discernment. Not in this case, it seems."
"Enough chatter. Explain yourself!" Crovax stared hatefully at the Kor man.
Rather than a spoken reply, Furah began to change. His shoulders expanded; his legs and arms lengthened. His skull widened, and his features swelled and disappeared.
In place of the pale, slender Kor now stood a man with a sculpted body of impossibly perfect proportions. Taller by a head than Crovax, he exuded grace and power. His face was carved in such a way as to suggest wisdom and strength. The crowd spoke his name. "Volrath!" Belbe was impressed. To simpler folk, Volrath might appear to be a god. Even as she thought this, many of the court went down on their knees and bowed their faces to the floor in abject reverence of their evincar.
"So, you've come back," Crovax said. "Why?" "To reclaim what is mine," said Volrath. "You forfeited the throne when you abandoned it. I am the new evincar." He turned to Belbe. "Tell him, Excellency."
Belbe lowered her eyes and said, "I am the emissary of the overlords of Phyrexia. I was sent here to appoint your successor."