That was the problem.
The only place he could get more was Panopticon. But if he went back to the interior, he’d have to report to Memnarch. To do that he needed to have the elf girl.
How could he be expected to concentrate on finding the elf girl if he didn’t get more serum?
Malil repeated this mantra to himself as he and his levelers approached Mephidross.
* * * * *
The open plains stretched out before Bosh, Slobad, Glissa, and Al-Hayat. To the iron golem, the rolling hills, pieced together from huge sheets of colored metals, had always seemed a hospitable and welcoming place. Everything fit together in an overly organized fashion.
Bosh liked that.
Lines made sense to him. It was the curves and the unpredictable creativity of flesh creatures that he didn’t understand. Better that things fit inside a box, made sense, followed strictly designed rules.
Now it no longer worked that way. Once the creator had left-was compelled to leave really-everything went to the nine hells. Now Bosh too was turning to flesh.
Bosh looked out to the East as the group walked. The wind whipping through the tall razor grass made high-pitched whistles that rode off into the distance. In some places, the iron golem recalled, you could hear that sound from miles away. Up close though, when the blades of grass touched each other, you could hear a subtle, tinkling chime. Combined with the whistling, the two sounds together created a noise unlike anything else on Mirrodin-an unintentional music.
The group of friends traveled in the valleys of the sloping hills. This time of year the moons were nearly aligned, so if they weren’t in the sky, they were on the other side of the world, leaving parts of Mirrodin black and cold. The alternative wasn’t much better. When all the moons were overhead, color began to wash out. The metal plates of the plains reflected back black, white, blue, and red, making everything look brown and ugly.
During a convergence, it was hot as well. All those moons-or suns, as the leonine persisted in calling them-pouring light down onto the open ground made a metal golem uncomfortable, especially those parts of him that had become flesh. Now was one of those times. The exposed fleshy bits on Bosh’s arms and torso were turning a bright red, and they tingled.
“Is flesh always so bothersome?” he asked, scratching a patch of skin.
“You get used to it, huh?” replied the goblin, who was riding on his shoulder.
“Does it get easier?”
“Oh yeah.”
“That’s good to know.”
Glissa, riding on the back of Al-Hayat, pushed a finger into the reddened flesh near Bosh’s collar. “We should cover you up. You’re getting moonburn.”
“Moonburn? What is that?”
“It’s when you stay out under the moons too long, and your skin gets too much moonlight.”
“Too much moonlight?”
“Skin isn’t like metal,” explained Glissa.
“I am finding that out.” Bosh held up his bandaged hands.
“Yeah, well, razor vines aren’t the only thing that can damage flesh. Moonlight can too.”
“How?” asked the golem.
“Yes, how?” The wolf sounded curious as well.
Glissa looked up at Slobad.
“Don’t look here, crazy elf. You said it, huh?”
“Well,” the elf grabbed her chin, thinking hard. “You know how when the moons are in convergence, the plates of the plains get hot?”
Bosh nodded. “Yes, my frame can get hot too.”
The elf lifted her finger in the air. “Right. Why is that?”
Bosh shrugged, nearly tossing Slobad from his shoulders. “I do not know.”
Glissa frowned. “Well, I don’t know either, but it happens, right?”
Everyone nodded.
“Well, skin gets hot too, only when it gets hot, it-”
“Expands,” interjected Bosh. “I understand. It is just like metal.”
“Not exactly,” said the elf.
Bosh looked out over a barren patch of plain, where there was no razor grass. The hexagonal plates that formed the ground were bowing up, like bubbles in a swamp. The iron golem pointed to them.
“See,” he said, “just like that.”
Everyone looked.
“What’s happening there?” asked Al-Hayat.
“You not know?” asked Slobad. “Slobad think magical beasts know everything, huh?”
The wolf looked up at the goblin. Glissa thought she detected a sneer on his lips. “I’ve never been out of the Tangle. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Oh,” grunted the goblin. “You just like crazy elf when Slobad find her, huh? Don’t worry.” He hitched his thumb toward his chest. “Goblin teach you everything, huh?”
“It is caused by the convergence,” explained Bosh, ignoring Slobad. “The metal plates expand when they are hot. Since they are joined so tightly, they have no room to move. They bend.” He nodded to the section of plain he had pointed to earlier. “Like that.”
“Oh,” said the wolf.
“Yes, but that’s not what happens to skin.” Glissa seemed frustrated.
“It gets hot,” said Bosh.
“Yes, and when it gets hot, it burns, like fire roasts meat.”
Bosh nodded slowly. “So the moonlight cooks flesh.”
Glissa shrugged. “Well, yes.”
“I do not want to be cooked,” said the golem.
“Golem not taste good anyway, huh?” chirped Slobad.
Al-Hayat let out a low growl. “Maybe not,” he said, lifting his muzzle toward the sky, “but someone is willing to test your theory, goblin.”
Bosh followed Al-Hayat’s nose to a patch of dark blotches in the sky. “What is that?”
Glissa strained her eyes against the glare of the moons.
“It looks like a pack of large plains birds or a group of small dragons.”
“They’re artifact wings with vedalken riders,” answered the wolf.
“Hey,” squealed Slobad, “how you know what vedalken looks like, huh?”
The wolf kept his eyes on the slowly growing forms ahead of them. “I have fought with them before.”
“In the Tangle?” asked Glissa.
The wolf nodded. “But out here, we have no trees for cover.”
Bosh stopped moving and lifted Slobad from his shoulder. “No,” he said, “but they do not have their sea or their fortress.” He turned to look at the wolf. “And they do not know about you.”
CHAPTER 10
Pontifex flexed his fingers. First in his right hand then his left. Between them, he gripped the handle of his hover guard glider. It was a simple device, not unlike the unmanned aerophins. A lightweight, hollow frame was constructed in the shape of a bird’s wings. Between this frame was stretched a fine woven-metal fabric that billowed slightly in the wind. The whole thing was attached to the rider’s back with a set of straps and a buckle.
To Pontifex’s left rode Marek, to his right, Orland. Behind the three followed four dozen of Marek’s finest elite guardsmen.
Pontifex looked to his left. “Do you see them?”
Marek nodded. “The human woman doesn’t appear to be with them.”
“That doesn’t matter now,” replied the vedalken lord. “We’re after the elf girl.”
“The Guardian will be very pleased that we’ve brought her in,” interjected Orland. “The vedalken people will be well rewarded for our service.”
Pontifex smiled. “Yes. Yes indeed.”
“My lord,” said Marek, pointing down at the group of foot travelers. “They have some sort of beast with them.”
Pontifex narrowed his eyes. The reflection of the moons’ light off the metallic plain made it hard to pick up shapes and impossible to distinguish colors. It did, however, appear as if the elf rode atop some large creature. “If she thinks she can outrun us with her mount, she’s mistaken.”
Marek nodded. “What should you have us do?”
Pontifex glanced back at his troops then looked back down on the elf girl and her party.