"Take us up, Sisay," Multani suggested.

"Up? I thought we wanted to land," she said.

"We do. The best place for us to land is up."

Weatherlight's ravaged bow rose. The ship labored skyward. Above, treetops hovered like green thunderheads. Weatherlight climbed three thousand feet and vaulted through the leaves. Sunlight broke hot and bright across the ship. The canopy fell away in a sea of green.

"Where do we land up here?" Sisay asked.

"There," replied Multani.

The bow swept around, showing a magnigoth tree that was twice the height of those around it. This single tree was a world unto itself, with four separate levels of foliage above the main canopy. Each was a different biosphere, each a different hanging garden of plants and animals. Kavu, the guardians of Yavimaya, clung to the side of the tree and stared querulously at the ship.

"You want us to land in that tree?" Sisay asked incredulously.

"No," Multani replied. "I want that tree to catch us."

"Catch us? Why would it catch us?"

"Because I'll be in it. Besides, the ship came from that tree."

"What are you talking about?"

"That is the Heart of Yavimaya. From its center came a wedge of wood called the Weatherseed. It was that seed that grew into the hull of this ship."

The human members of the crew only stared in astonishment, unsure what to say.

Multani continued, "Just bring us in a spiraling path across the top layer of foliage. Take us low enough that the hull touches the leaves. I'll take care of the rest."

Even as she angled the ship toward the Heart of Yavimaya, Sisay asked, "Well, Commander, what do you think?"

He shrugged, sighing deeply. "Reckless, yes ... Take her in."

Without airfoils, Weatherlight shot like a flaming arrow across the sky. She closed the distance to the Heart of Yavimaya. It grew. Worm holes in the smooth wood swelled into caves and into huge caverns. Bark became a vertical world, with sideways forests of moss. The ship climbed higher, where saprolings covered the upper boughs of the tree. At last, Weatherlight reached the mountainous crown. The air here was cooler, drier than below. Foliage spread in what might have been a mountain meadow above an incredible plunge. The tip of one long branch brushed the ship's keel.

Weatherlight shuddered as Multani went out of her. The hull suddenly rattled. Wind whistled in countless holes. She seemed to be breaking up.

"Spiral inward!" Gerrard ordered. "It'll slow us down."

"It'll tear us apart too," Sisay replied, but followed the order.

Weatherlight banked into a tight turn. A huge bough rose like an arm in front of the ship. Leaves slapped at the prow. Twigs lashed the rails. The bough swayed outward, following the ship's motion. Vines tightened. Weatherlight strained against the dragging weight.

"Cut engines!" Gerrard called.

Immediately, the roar of the power core died away. Weatherlight sloughed forward in a cradle of branches. She sank slowly in green arms and descended amid rustling leaves and crackling twigs.

Heart in his throat, Gerrard breathed a deep, thankful breath. He stood in the traces and lifted a joyous shout. The crew answered. Laughter followed. Relief flooded the deck.

Looking out at the primordial tree, its twisted wood rising to the sky, Gerrard said to himself, "This is a powerful place, a good place. Multani will heal the hull. He'll make it stronger than it ever was."

Slowly, a network of boughs eased Weatherlight down beside a huge arboreal lake in one wide crotch. The ship docked on battered landing spines. She groaned as her riddled bulk settled. At last, Weatherlight was at rest.

Kavu emerged from the undergrowth and formed a solemn circle around the ship. For a moment, Gerrard feared they might attack. Then he saw, on one of their backs, the figure of Multani.

Gerrard smiled to his onetime mentor. Waving, he whispered a.s.surances to himself. "Multani will heal the ship, and we'll fight again at Urborg."

While Multani reworked the hull and Karn reworked the engine, Tahngarth descended from the crowded ship to rework himself. He who had saved a thousand minotaurs was not willing to be among them when they awoke.

Already they were shaking off their stupor. Perhaps Orim's ministrations brought them out. Perhaps it was only the healing magic of minotaur muscle.

The healing magic of minotaur muscle.... Tahngarth snorted. He looked at his own twisted form. That magic was gone from him.

At the lake, he dived. He dived deep. He remained down long. The cold water felt good on his tortured flesh. It washed away the dust of Kaldroom, the sweat of Urborg, the stink of every tormented place.

When he rose again toward the surface, his eyes made out a strange a.s.semblage on the sh.o.r.e. He broke from the water. It streamed from his horns and hair.

Before him, all along the bank, stood minotaur warriors. The line of them stretched back to Weatherlight. More warriors poured down the gangplank. All headed toward the water and the single figure bathing there. All looked at Tahngarth, their eyes grave as they traced his deformations.

Gritting his teeth, Tahngarth strode from the lake. He would not turn from them. He would not skulk away. He would walk through their accusing midst, back to his friends. He only hoped the minotaurs would let him pa.s.s.

They did not. Shoulder to shoulder they stood.

Tahngarth stopped before them. He returned their stares. Words failed him.

Then the beasts before Tahngarth moved. They dropped to their knees and bowed low. So too did the warriors behind. One by one, the minotaurs of Kaldroom knelt before the n.o.ble warrior who had saved them.

Chapter 20.

The Dragon of New Argive.

At the head of the dragon nations flew Rhammidarigaaz of Shiv and Rith of Yavimaya. She flew in glory, the unquestioned ruler of the serpentine races. At her side, Darigaaz was but a doubtful shadow.

Was he a murderer? Was he a tyrant? Rokun had not been a traitor, not really. He had defied Darigaaz, but before that moment, Darigaaz had suffered defiance. Something had snapped in him. He had killed Rokun and hurled him against the root bulb. He had destroyed the dragon nations' faith and replaced it with fear. He had sacrificed Rokun to gain power.

Fear and power-they were halves of a whole. The more the dragons feared him, the more powerful he became. The more powerful he became, the more he feared himself.

There was but one antidote for fear-rage-and when Darigaaz glimpsed the ruins of New Argive, he had plenty of rage.

Not a building stood. The white glories of the ages were shattered eggsh.e.l.ls. Not a soul survived, only bodies- bodies and soulless Phyrexians. Monsters scuttled among smashed walls and collapsed roofs. They feasted on bodies and pillaged metals and burned books. They killed living Argivians and obliterated the knowledge of the dead.

And you wondered why you needed such power, Rith said, speaking directly into his mind. And you wondered why you needed Primevak. Before he could answer, she tilted in a steep dive.

Darigaaz followed. His wings tucked. He plunged. The ruined city roared up to meet him. The dragon nations stooped into the dive as well. They headed for the central thoroughfare, flooded with Phyrexians. Dragon shadows swept over scaly heads.

Monsters looked up. Into their eyes poured death.

Rith's teeth parted. Green spores roared from her mouth. Where they struck, they rooted and grew. Parasitic plants drank Phyrexian blood. Vines coiled about arms. Tendrils cracked joints. Monsters dropped beneath rampant gardens.

Darigaaz breathed fire-a simpler but no less certain death. Flame bled from him. It baked brains and fried muscle and burned oil.

More attacks poured down on them. White serpents keened a sound that cut like knives, separating flesh from bone. Black dragons belched acidic sludge that ate scale and metal. Blue lizards breathed winds that dashed creatures to cobbles. The dragon nations strafed New Argive like a fivefold plague.

Rhammidarigaaz and dragon lords, come with me, Rith said into the minds of the dragons. The rest of you, fan out and destroy Phyrexians.

Without hesitation, the dragon nations peeled away from the main column. They hurled their killing breath into every alley, every ruin, every plaza.

Darigaaz watched them go, proud of their power.

Before him, Rith soared down to a huge ruined structure. Once it had risen multiple stories. Now it was a rubble pile. Sections of marble column lay among shattered friezes. Terra cotta bosses and torn tapestries and mosaic tiles and bodies-plenty of bodies in bloodstained robes.

A temple? Darigaaz wondered.

A kind of temple. A temple to knowledge. This was once the single greatest library on the face of Dominaria, replied Rith grimly.

Rhammidarigaaz studied the wreckage. A library? Where are the books?

Rith nodded her head toward the street. Huge black circles showed where numerous bonfires had burned.

The greatest library on the face of Dominaria ... and they destroyed every lost book.

Yes, but they did not find the library's greatest treasure, Rith said as she settled down atop the rubble pile.

Furling his wings, Rhammidarigaaz landed beside the green dragon. Four more beasts came to ground with him, including the resentful black dragon who had replaced Rokun.

Darigaaz turned a level stare on her. He would have to watch her. Swamp dragons were natural traitors. He shook the thought away. Already, he was thinking the way Rith did.

"Dig," Rith said simply, interrupting his reverie. "All of you, dig."

Rhammidarigaaz stooped, grabbing hunks of stone in his ma.s.sive claws and hurling them aside. The black beast lashed her tail once, and then she set to work with a vengeance. So too did the rest, even Rith.

Darigaaz ignored the others, lost in his own thoughts. With each cornice he grasped, he imagined the walls it had once joined. With each shattered shelf, he read the books that once loaded it. With each body, he lived lives lost.

Rith had awakened something primal in him- something that stretched back beyond his own millennium of life. At first, he had thought it only instinct, but this was more than race memory. This was a longing for former days, when the world was young and humans were only scurrying rats. Then dragons had ruled. In that half-feral mind, Rith's words made utter sense.

The dragons uncovered a wide marble stairway that plunged away through more piles of rubble. They followed it down into darkness. The library had fallen into its bas.e.m.e.nt, but there was a subbas.e.m.e.nt below it. In only a few places had its ceiling given way. Rith drove them on. They dug deeper. At the fourth turn of the stair, they reached the end of the debris. Another sub-bas.e.m.e.nt lay below. With wings tucked, the dragons slithered down through the darkness. More turns revealed a third and fourth level. At last they reached a deep vault.

Humans could not have seen anything in that dank s.p.a.ce, but dragons saw the cold air that dragged away from musty walls. They glimpsed the chill drafts that danced like dark spirits across the floor. And in the center of the s.p.a.ce, at the precise junction of the building's transepts, they saw that the floor glowed with unnatural warmth.

"What is it?" asked Darigaaz.

"Who is it, you mean," replied Rith. On all fours, she stalked slowly toward the spot. "Everything that mortals have, they stole from us. First, they stole dominion over fire, which they used to capture the Primeval of Shiv. Next, they stole dominion over plants-what they call agriculture. With that power, they imprisoned me in Yavimaya. Their greatest weapon they gained next, dominion over words. Stories, histories, sciences-writing is the magic that allows the dead to instruct the living. Books are no less than the memory of the world. Once mortals tapped that memory, they knew exactly how to trap the third Primeval." Her voice was quiet but imbued with a barely contained rage. "She is Treva, and she lies pinioned beneath the foundation drums of this library."

Darigaaz had crept near enough now to make out the shape of the warm silhouette on the floor-unmistakably that of a dragon.

She was buried deep within the lime mortar of the floor. She had been crucified. Her forelegs were stretched out unnaturally beneath a pair of ma.s.sive pillars. Her hind legs were similarly splayed. Her tail formed a large curve beneath the feet of the dragon lords. Her head jutted into the apse beyond. A pair of wide, graceful wings swept into each transept.

Darigaaz glanced up to the sweating ceiling. "This level is older than what lies above."

Rith smiled in the darkness. "Perceptive. Yes, this level is the first library, in fact a monastery, no larger than these crossed transepts. It was leveled and rebuilt in the time of the Thran. That library was destroyed in the cataclysm of Yawgmoth. A university then took this site, only to be destroyed in the Argoth event. So have pa.s.sed the ages. Knowledge comes and goes, but the foundation of knowledge-" she spread her claws toward the warm silhouette-"remains."

Staring at the shape, Rhammidarigaaz said, "Yes, but how do we free her? You escaped your prison only after Rokun was-only after I slew Rokun. I am not willing to make such a sacrifice again."

There was murmured agreement among the other dragon lords.

Rith purred casually, "Oh, you needn't worry about sacrifices. I know the ancient sorceries." Her teeth glinted in the murk. "Even so, I need your help. The spell requires black mana, to break the grip of death, and then green, white, and blue mana to restore life. You, the dragon lords of swamp and forest, plain and sea, must tap the magical power of your homelands and bring it here, into this place.

Then Rhammidarigaaz will unleash a red-mana spell to cut through the floor beneath us. Once Treva is revealed, I will channel the mana you have drawn to awaken her."

"That much power could bring the ceiling down on us," Darigaaz objected.

"The other four may stand safely clear, beside the pillars, in case the ceiling comes down. You, though, Rhammidarigaaz, must stand beside me, risking all."

The black creature snickered. "Rhammidarigaaz would risk anything for the good of the dragon nations."

Darigaaz scowled. Rith was singling him out, perhaps intending to use his life force to power the spell.

A hiss came from the black dragon. "Or is Darigaaz willing to require the ultimate sacrifice of Rokun, only to shrink from danger himself?"

"No," Darigaaz replied levelly. He strode toward Rith. The floor felt hot beneath his claws. Treva's power seeped up his legs and into his heart, bringing a fierce longing for ancient times. "I will do it."

Rith extended a welcoming claw toward him. She gripped his talon. Small sparks leaped between their fingers.

"Good. You can trust me, Rhammidarigaaz. Do you feel the power between us? It will be sufficient." Raising her voice, she spoke to the others. "Spread out equally around us, facing forward, and remain in line of sight."

Hissing happily, the black dragon withdrew beside one of the four drums that held up the vault. The three other dragon lords took their places beside the other drums.

"Excellent," Rith said. "Now, to begin the spell, you must tap the power of your homelands. Concentrate. Draw the mana into you."

The air in the chamber changed. There came a smell of lightning. Power crackled. Beside the four pillars, the dragon lords glowed. Energy cascaded through their blood and lined out their arteries. It limned every scale. It shimmered across horns and teeth and even poured from eyes. Visions of deep forests and deeper oceans mixed with scenes of fetid murk and fecund field.

"Cast your spell, Rhammidarigaaz," Rith said quietly.

The power mounting in him lashed downward. Crimson rays surged from his splayed claws. They struck the floor and burned through. With precise lines and jags, Darigaaz traced the heat-silhouette beneath his feet. The beams bit deep. Lime mortar cracked over the silent form.

Rith bowed, pulling up hunks of the loose material and flinging them away. Piece by piece, the Primeval was uncovered. Her wings were manifold, formed of featherlike scales. Her limbs and belly plate were as white as chalk. Her throat and forehead were mantled in gleaming pinions.

Last of all, Rith drew back the shard that covered the dragon's face. The slim snout beneath bristled with teeth, and eyes glowed with beaming magic.