Hunting the Visitor
Author's Note: Sorin the furry and this story are mine. Sorin Markov and other themes related to MTG are owned by Wizards. Nothing is used for profit.
"Wrong." A sudden blast of dark energy cut through the air and I lost all feeling in my right hand. The cry of pain that boiled in my lungs stuck in my throat. If I allowed myself to scream, he would only cut off the other hand.
Without looking down, I focused on the energy floating around me and channeled it into my arm. The muscle and bone began to reform and stretch. The process of regrowth was another painful event, but I didn't allow myself to cry.
"You will do it again," Markov said with no compassion. He knew the kind of pain I was in. That was the very reason he did this.
Part of me wondered how much of this was for training and how much was simply for his sick and twisted pleasure. If he wanted, he could have killed me with barely a thought. He'd done it before. The first "lesson" had started with Markov killing me and promptly bringing me back. But Markov liked to toy with things before he killed them.
I pushed all of that from my mind and focused on the energies again. The mana was dark and foreboding, which was understandable considering we were standing in Markov's mansion within the largest swamp on all of Zendikar not 20 miles from the Crypt of Agadeem. All mana that you didn't summon yourself was black here.
But that was the only mana I needed at the moment. So I accepted it, willed it into my body into a more malleable form that would serve my purpose. It manifested as dark droplets that curled down my arm and congealed in my palm. When enough of it had gathered, the very light from around my arm began to vanish. There was a black haze of simple nothingness focused around my hand.
It seemed right. The mana was flowing well. It was forming in the proper manner. It didn't seem too strong.
Another blade of dark energy cut through the air in front of me and my hand fell to the floor, bouncing on top of the former seven. Another cry tore at my throat, begging for just a single moment of release to relieve some of the pain. But that was exactly what he wanted me to do. He wanted an excuse to abuse me. I wouldn't give it to him. I remained silent.
"Again. Do it faster this time."
A sudden jarring brings me out of the dreams. I open my eyes and glance around. The others in the plane are collecting their bags for the departure, so I do likewise.
The dreams are starting to progress. I am thinking of my master too much. But why? I still do not know what it all means.
A few minutes later, I step out of the terminal into the crisp mountain air of South America. Small cars bustle about, mostly taxis looking for people to ferry for cash. Instead of taking one, I simply turn and begin walking. My destination is not in the city; it is in the mountain forests.
As I walk along the walk towards the city's edge, my mind rethinks what I am here to do. The multiverse fabric had opened a few days ago. The ripples originated from the mountains somewhere around this city. I don't know what it is, but something crossed over, so now I must send it back.
For a moment, I contemplate the people around me. They all look, but don't speak. Everyone gives me a wide birth. I don't blame them. When I was like them, a grayish fox in a perfectly black coat had appeared disturbing.
It's probably just a goblin or elf. They are known to accidentally cross into rifts and spit out somewhere else. Some believed that was how most of the species arrived in Zendikar long before the time of the gods. But it's all speculation. Simple evolution.
But what it is is not the disturbing part. What concerns me is that it simply is happening. This plane, which I have long called Earth simply for ease, has remained completely isolated except for my first run-in with Markov. And now, something crosses over again.
I decide that my actions with this will be no different from my actions on any other hunt. I will go in, find the target, and remove it, either by death or by forcing it back to where it came. More than likely the former.
A road to my right leads up towards the mountain overlooking the city. That is where the ripples are come from, so I turn. With a glance over my shoulder, I check that no one is coming before I lean forward and begin to run. It is a low, lean pace that very few could keep up with for short distances. I kept the pace all the way to the dense woods.
Half an hour later, I look out over the city. It would be a lovely view if I didn't have a job to do. The sun is setting in the distance and casts a reddish light through the trees and brush.
I admire my luck at finding the clearing. The space here is rippling with afterflows of the rift. That's surprising consider the jump is days old. But the fact that it is here tells me things.
For one, there are no claw marks on the trees. That tells me it is not a goblin. It could be a merfolk, but there is no residue that one would see from an aquatic jump. No report of death tells me that it is not a foul black beast. That means it is either a creature of light or a forest dweller.
With all of the trees around, I know how to tell which it is. I walk over to a low brush and grab the top. My foot swings around and cuts through the main trunk with a loud crack. The sound resonates and echoes through the trees for a moment and I walk to a low tree, repeating the action on a low branch.
I'm on my seventh branch when the leaves rustle behind me. "Who dares come to my wood and disturb it?"
I look back over my shoulder and see a tall, lean creature kneeling on a branch. Its skin is smooth and pale; long pointed ears stick out from under perfectly black hair. It's a Llanowar elf.
My lips curl into a smile and I turn. "Of course. Always expect a treehugger to come running at the slightest crack."
The elf leans forward and falls to the ground, using branches as handholds to slow its descent. When it lands, it draws out a long curved sword. "You shall die, unholy one."
I touch the mana around me. It is mostly red and green since we are currently standing in a forest on a mountain range, but I find enough black for my purposes. "You are trespassing in this plane."
"And you are trespassing in my wood." He takes a step to the side with his eyes casting, searching.
I mirror his steps to keep an equal distance. The energy fills my arms slowly. "These aren't your wood. This isn't even your world." The power is not building as fast as I'd like. I'll have to be careful with it.
"I will have this wood. If for nothing else than to save it from foul demons such as you." He drops into a sprint. My hand tilts and releases a small bead of energy into the earth.
When he's a few paces away, he begins to spin. His hair and cloak whip outwards, creating a strange illusion of distance, supposedly so that I cannot anticipate his strike. But before he is even in range, I feel the ground beneath me change. I press into it and fall into the sweet embrace of the muck.
From below, I see the elf stop and glance around in sheer confusion. "What is this foul magic?" he asks. His feet are already starting to become slick with mud.
"Contaminated Ground," I answer simply. To him, it would sound as if the voice is coming from the entirety of the quickly expanding swamp. It is a spell that took me years to perfect so well, but it is one of my most invaluable. "You are in my home now, elf. Will you yield and return to your home?"
The stubborn elf turns, searching for me with blade held ready. "I will never yield."
"Very well." In a moment, I'm on the other side of the swamp with black mana coursing through my arm. I swing and a black slash tears silently through the air. It passes through his neck. The head and the body fall to the mud in small splashes.
I release the energy and the mud dissipates into the earth. With a solemn look, I step over to and kneel beside the elf. After placing its head at least close to where it should be, I lay a hand over his chest and recite the elvish Prayer of Safe Passing. I do not like harming such souls, but it is an evil I must endure. "May your courage find you blessings in the next life."
With the prayer complete, I force open a pit in the earth and gently lay him inside.
On the walk back to the city, I look up at the moon dissatisfied. The elf had no reason to perish. If I am lucky, the city will be a corrupt one and I can hunt again.
Author's Note: So I'm thinking of continuing this set. At least slowly. I want to flesh out more of Sorin's background. Even without that, I hope you all enjoyed this little piece of action. Let me know your thoughts.
Thanks for reading.