Dragon's Maze

Jace looked down around the sides of the bridge. The fall was a hundred feet or more onto a solid rock floor that glistened with a tangle of slow-trickling, slimy streams.

Directly ahead was the Simic team, and beyond them were soldiers—it was the legionnaire Tajic and the rest of the Boros delegation. Beyond them, filling up the entire width of the bridge, was the hulking form of the troll Varolz. The troll brandished a sword, which looked longer than Jace’s femur, as if it were a knife. The skulls of humanoids hung from his belt.

The Boros priests chanted, the lyrics of their chant beseeching intervention from the heavens. Jace wondered how that was going to work, given that the heavens were blocked off by dozens of feet of sediment and crushed cobblestone—years of Ravnican urban strata.

But the ceiling burst open, raining bricks, and a shaft of sunlight, bright as fire, shone down on Varolz. He roared, consumed by the light, trying to claw the beam itself. His body caught on fire, sending flames a dozen feet in the air, throwing monstrous shadows onto the chamber walls.

Tajic gestured for his troops to follow, and they darted past Varolz’s crouching form. They ran, and disappeared through the gate and into a side tunnel.

The light faded, leaving Varolz burning and crackling. The Simic delegation advanced.

“Quick!” shouted the Simic runner Vorel. “Through the gate!”

But before they could dash past, the troll recovered and lurched to his feet. Jace could see the flames dying down, engulfed by new, knobby warts and fast-growing fungal growths. Tissue piled on tissue, adding to Varolz’s bulk. He stood before the Simic and bellowed hot breath at them, his skin still smoking, scars rapidly replacing burn wounds.

“We should try to get around them,” said Emmara.

Varolz swung his club, and with a breathy crunch, one of the Simic soldiers tumbled over the side of the bridge. Jace peered over the ledge just in time to see the soldier’s body impact with the ground, bounce once, and come to rest in a pile of limbs. A massive, glossy-black, beetle-like monstrosity reared up out of the debris and skittered over to the corpse, lifted it into its jaws, and devoured it on the spot.

“I could summon something with wings,” said Jace, “but it’d be a risky flight. Besides, the flow of mana crosses directly over the bridge, and we can’t stray too far from the path. I think it’s through or nothing.”

Vorel battled the troll. As Vorel began a spell, the troll fist-bashed him in the gut, sending him crashing against the side of the bridge. Vorel lost his balance, and tipped over the side. He grabbed on with one hand, dangling from the edge.

Jace leaped forward and grabbed the man’s sleeve, and got a better grip on his forearm. Vorel looked up at him, wordless in fear, his legs dangling.

The Simic maze-runner had nothing to cling to, and couldn’t muster a spell. Jace’s grip was the only thing holding him there. It was Jace’s choice—he could try to pull the man up, or he could simply release, and there could be one less competitor between Emmara and winning the maze. Given that they were currently dead last, the correct strategy seemed clear, on top of the fact that this was the man who was about to end Emmara’s chances only an hour before.

Jace didn’t even have to read deeply to sense the man’s mental state. He was already trying to glance down to the cavern floor, to see how his end would come. Vorel was mostly ashamed that this would be the way his guild fell out of the competition, falling to his death on the second gate.

With a heave, Jace pulled him up, dragging him up over the low stone railing. The man’s center of gravity tipped over the ledge and he dropped onto the bridge.

“Thank you,” he said. “I underestimated that troll.” The gills on his neck hissed as he breathed.

“I made the same mistake once,” said Jace.

“Shall we work together to get past him now?” Emmara asked. “Or do you not work with obsolete specimens?”

Varolz was beginning to advance across the bridge, toward them. The remaining Simic soldiers retreated, looking back to the mages for guidance.

“What magic do you possess?” asked Jace.

“I am a biomancer,” said Vorel. “I perfect living things.”

“Can you use that to stop him?” asked Jace.

“I am not accustomed to using magic to harm living things.”

“You let your pets do that for you,” said Emmara.

“Yes,” said Jace. “How fast can you summon?”

“Summon what?”

Jace sized up the troll. “Something big. And preferably hungry.”