There must be something more to them, Anowon said.
And then the sky opened, and it started to rain.
Had it been a quick downpour, everything would have been fine. Nissa would have kept them walking and pulled up the hood of her warthog cloak. The rain would have soaked them through, and they could have made a fire to dry. They could have continued on their way with little or no disturbance. But this was Zendikar, Nissa was careful to remind herself as the fat raindrops fell in arcing sheets. Soon the rain obscured their vision, and the sand beneath their feet turned swampy.
In what direction are we walking? Sorin yelled over the hammering raindrops.
Nissa could not tell. She put her hands over her eyes, and through a tiny slot between her first and index finger she could see the barest image of the sky, which was still dark with rain that showed no sign of abating.
This, Sorin shouted. He pointed up and around in an exasperated sweep. And this.
She felt it too. The rain was falling hard. It drummed at her skull and made thinking all but impossible. It hurt. He head was numb with it. If the rain turned to hail they would be pummeled to death. Their time was fading. She put her hand over her eyes again and peered around. The shadow of the canyon wall was close, and slowly she made her way to it, sloshing through the rising water. The others followed.
There was no cave, only the steep incline of the canyon wall. Still, being so close to the wall of the canyon stopped some of the rain, and they hunched against it.
Nissa looked closely at the canyon wall. He eyes traced upward from between her fingers until she saw, some three heights up, a stunted tree clinging to the bare cliff face. A small rick of branches and dead grass had been swept into the bend of the tree s trunk. A small shelf jutted above the tree. Her eyes stayed on the small tree, and the wedge of plant material swept as if it was moving downward.
Rope she screamed at Anowon. Hurry. The vampire shrugged off his pack and hurried to free the rope. The water in the trench was already up to their shins. If the torrent continued further up in the trench, there would soon be a wall of water pitched down their part of the rock chute. As Anowon worked, Nissa glanced up once again at the dwarfed tree, where the terrific force of the surging water had wedged what it carried between the rock and the trunk. As he uncoiled the rope, she fumbled through the bag. It must be here, she thought. There must be one here.
She found the grappling hook and would have yelled for joy if the rumbling hadn t started. It was low, but as she snatched the end of the rope from Anowon, the low growl increased in volume. Her numb fingers slipped the rope through the eyelet of the hook and fastened it with a quick hitch. In one fluid motion she stepped back and threw the hook with every bit of strength she had. The hook fell short of the shelf above the tree. She tried again, and the same thing happened. The sound from up the canyon was a roar now. Not like this, she thought. Not this way.
Anowon took the hook and leaned back and threw. It fell short.
When Sorin took it and threw, the hook traveled far up but tumbled back down not catching the rock. Nissa had to jump out of the way. On his second throw, the hook s tines caught a bit of rock, and they each scrambled up in turn.
Nissa was the last to climb the rope. When she was half way up, she stopped and turned. With the raindrops stinging her eyes, she watched as a wall of green water crashed by, so high that for a moment it lapped around her ankles.
The wall of water was gone almost as soon as it had passed. They stayed on the shelf, and Nissa wondered if what she d seen had been real. The rain was still falling hard. Perhaps she d only imagined the water touching her feet.
Soon the downpour lessened, then stopped altogether.
Nissa waited until the cloudy sky above their head broke up and patches of pink sunset showed in the clouds of the swatch above their heads. Then she climbed back down.
Well, said Sorin, once he was standing on the soggy sand. I suspect we have heard the last of those scorpions. Surely they Sorin stopped in mid-sentence. He cocked his head to the side. Do you hear that?
Nissa listened. The faint sound of movement echoed off the canyon walls. She could hear something kicking rocks as it moved up the canyon. She glanced at the ledge.
Then the noise stopped. Nothing moved. The very canyon itself seemed to be holding its breath. Sorin sniffed. Well, he said.
Hush. Nissa said, putting up her hand.
After a time she swept her hand down, and they crept forward through the rocks. They moved quietly and passed around a boulder to the left and came face to face with a host of three hundred kor, their strange hooked weapons at the ready.
Robert B. Wintermute
Zendikar: In the Teeth of Akoum
The kor hookmaster was missing an eye. The socket wept yellow globules down the hookmaster s long and thin face, and he wiped the discharge away with the back of a slender hand. The fleshy barbels typical of the kor hung under his chin and almost to his belt. He was crisscrossed with harness works of pockets and loops. His clothes were tanned skins. And tethered with chains to various parts of his body were no fewer than four hooked and bladed climbing tools that Nissa was sure could double as weapons. In his left hand, he held a long, notched sword with a small hook dangling on a chain off its pommel.
All the other kor, males, females, and children, were similarly out fitted. None moved or spoke. In the silence, a rock skittered down the trench wall behind. A snail falcon cried overhead.
Nissa had seen kor fight before. They could be savage, if threatened. The Joraga had always been friendlier with the kor than other elf tribes they respected the kor s avoidance of speech.
Nissa knew the kor to be nomadic, but from the packs they carried on their backs, they looked to be fleeing, their caravan reduced to the things they carried. She noted the signs of battle: Many were bandaged, and some were using jurworrel-wood branches for crutches. And some of their weapons were missing blades, or had only half a blade. They were tired, clearly. Some were stooped so badly with exhaustion that she feared they might fall. How had they survived the flood? she wondered.
Nissa opened her hands and put them palms up the kor greeting.
The lead kor s eye moved from her to Sorin and then to Anowon, where it stayed for a longer time. The vampire stared back. Nissa could almost see him lick his lips. It occurred to her that she didn t know how long it had been since Anowon had fed.
Well, savages? Sorin said. Going for a stroll?
Nissa cringed inwardly. They re refugees. Or are you blind as well as rude?
Sorin said nothing.
Nissa kept her palms out. May we speak? she asked.
The old kor regarded her for a time. In the failing light of the canyon, the quietness of the kor was unnerving. Nissa found herself shifting her weight from foot to foot as she waited for the kor to decide whether or not they would speak.
Finally he nodded.
Nissa waited.
Oh, this is thrilling, Sorin said.
She shot him a glance before turning back to the kor. Please, she said. From where do you come?
When the kor spoke, his voice was unusually deep. It echoed off the near canyon wall. We come from the west, the kor said.
I m glad we ve figured that out, Sorin said. Can we go now?
Nissa ignored him.
What have you found?
We have found those that have woken.
Nissa put her hand in front of her mouth and wiggled her fingers like tentacles.
The kor nodded.