War of the Spark Read online

  War of the Spark: Ravnica is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Wizards of the Coast LLC. All Rights Reserved.

  Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  DEL REY and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  WIZARDS OF THE COAST, MAGIC: THE GATHERING, MAGIC, their respective logos, War of the Spark, the planeswalker symbol, all guild names and symbols, and characters’ names are property of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the USA and other countries.

  Hardback ISBN 9781984817457

  Ebook ISBN 9781984817938

  randomhousebooks.com

  Book design by Elizabeth A. D. Eno, adapted for ebook

  Cover art: Magali Villeneuve

  Cover design: Scott Biel

  v5.4

  ep

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dramatis Personae

  Guilds of Ravnica

  Prelude

  Chapter One: Two Dragons

  Act One

  Chapter Two: Teyo Verada

  Chapter Three: Chandra Nalaar

  Chapter Four: Ral Zarek

  Chapter Five: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Six: Teyo Verada

  Chapter Seven: Jace Beleren

  Chapter Eight: Gideon Jura

  Chapter Nine: Dack Fayden

  Chapter Ten: Chandra Nalaar

  Chapter Eleven: Nicol Bolas

  Chapter Twelve: Jace Beleren

  Chapter Thirteen: Gideon Jura

  Chapter Fourteen: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Fifteen: Kaya

  Chapter Sixteen: Ral Zarek

  Chapter Seventeen: Vraska

  Chapter Eighteen: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Nineteen: Teyo Verada

  Chapter Twenty: Dack Fayden

  Chapter Twenty-one: Gideon Jura

  Chapter Twenty-two: Chandra Nalaar

  Chapter Twenty-three: Ral Zarek

  Chapter Twenty-four: Kaya

  Chapter Twenty-five: Jace Beleren

  Chapter Twenty-six: Teyo Verada

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Dack Fayden

  Act Two

  Chapter Twenty-eight: Nicol Bolas

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Kaya

  Chapter Thirty: Jace Beleren

  Chapter Thirty-one: Ral Zarek

  Chapter Thirty-two: Gideon Jura

  Chapter Thirty-three: Kaya

  Chapter Thirty-four: Gideon Jura

  Chapter Thirty-five: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Thirty-six: Teyo Verada

  Chapter Thirty-seven: Ral Zarek

  Chapter Thirty-eight: Teyo Verada

  Chapter Thirty-nine: Dack Fayden

  Chapter Forty: Ral Zarek

  Chapter Forty-one: Dack Fayden

  Chapter Forty-two: Vraska

  Chapter Forty-three: Gideon Jura

  Chapter Forty-four: Chandra Nalaar

  Chapter Forty-five: Dack Fayden

  Chapter Forty-six: Kaya

  Chapter Forty-seven: Jace Beleren

  Chapter Forty-eight: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Forty-nine: Teyo Verada

  Act Three

  Chapter Fifty: Ral Zarek

  Chapter Fifty-one: Chandra Nalaar

  Chapter Fifty-two: Vraska

  Chapter Fifty-three: Chandra Nalaar

  Chapter Fifty-four: Dack Fayden

  Chapter Fifty-five: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Fifty-six: Kaya

  Chapter Fifty-seven: Jace Beleren

  Chapter Fifty-eight: Gideon Jura

  Chapter Fifty-nine: Nicol Bolas

  Chapter Sixty: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Sixty-one: Kytheon Iora

  Chapter Sixty-two: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Sixty-three: Chandra Nalaar

  Chapter Sixty-four: Nicol Bolas

  Chapter Sixty-five: Liliana Vess

  Chapter Sixty-six: Chandra Nalaar

  Chapter Sixty-seven: Teyo Verada

  Chapter Sixty-eight: Jace Beleren

  Coda

  Chapter Sixty-nine: Two Dragons

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  By Greg Weisman

  About the Author

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  Jace Beleren—Planeswalker, Human, Gatewatch Mind-mage.

  Nicol Bolas—Planeswalker, Elder Dragon, Would-Be God-Emperor.

  Dack Fayden—Planeswalker, Human, Self-Proclaimed Greatest Thief in the Multiverse.

  Gideon Jura—Planeswalker, Human, Gatewatch Founder, Hieromancer.

  Kaya—Planeswalker, Human, Orzhov Guildmaster and Ghost-assassin.

  Chandra Nalaar—Planeswalker, Human, Gatewatch Pyromancer.

  Teyo Verada—Planeswalker, Human, Shieldmage Acolyte.

  Liliana Vess—Planeswalker, Human, former Gatewatch Necromancer.

  Vraska—Planeswalker, Gorgon, Golgari Guildmaster and Assassin.

  Ral Zarek—Planeswalker, Human, Izzet Guildmaster and Storm Mage.

  GUILDS OF RAVNICA

  Azorius Senate

  Dedicated to bringing order to the chaos of Ravnica’s streets, the Azorius Senate strives to educate the compliant—and restrain the rebellious.

  Boros Legion

  The zealous Boros Legion is united in pursuit of a peaceful and harmonious Ravnica, no matter how many bodies its forces must step over to achieve it.

  House Dimir

  The agents of House Dimir dwell in the darkest corners of the city, selling their secrets to those who hunger for power, and their steel to those who need enemies silenced.

  Golgari Swarm

  Death brings new life. All life must die. The guildmembers of the Golgari Swarm are guardians of this cycle, feeding the citizens of Ravnica, and preparing them to feed the earth in turn.

  Gruul Clans

  Once, the Gruul Clans ruled over the untamed wilds of Ravnica, but as the city has grown they’ve been forced further and further into exile to escape its crushing weight. They’re ready to crush back.

  Izzet League

  With their endless public works, the genius Izzet League maintains the sprawling splendor of Ravnica…when their experiments aren’t accidentally blowing it up.

  Orzhov Syndicate

  The Orzhov Syndicate is ruthlessly ambitious and endlessly acquisitive. If you owe the Orzhov, they will collect, even after death.

  Cult of Rakdos

  Entertainers and hedonists, the Cultists of the demonic lord Rakdos know that life is short and full of pain. The only thing that matters? Having as much fun as you possibly can, no matter the consequence.

  Selesnya Conclave

  The Selesnya guild is the voice of Mat’Selesnya, the mysterious manifestation of nature itself. They search constantly for more believers to add to their Conclave—and a larger army to defend it.

  Simic Combine

  Nowhere is the balance of nature and civilization more important—or more threatened—than in a city that spans the world. And the Simic Combine stands ready to maintain it…or revise it to their own unique specifications.

  The Spirit Dragon and the dragon spirit were having a little chat.

  “How long can your device there preserve you?” asked the Spirit Dragon.

  “A century or so,” replied the dragon spirit. “I stripped the mind of an Orzhov pontiff to confirm it was compatible. They’re experts on that sort of thing. On ghosts, that is. The tech’s all mine. And it’s brilliant.”
>
  “Of course.” The Spirit Dragon glanced down at the little silver box, with all its delicate filigree, sparking clockwork gears, and shimmering crystals, as it projected the dragon spirit’s essence right above it into the crisp gray dawn. “Nice of Sarkhan Vol to deliver it here.”

  “Nice isn’t the word.”

  “Necessary.”

  “Yes. Necessary.”

  There was a long pause.

  Eventually, the dragon spirit swallowed hard—or in any case, unconsciously mimicked that biological tic—and stated, “Our plan will work. It must work.”

  The Spirit Dragon looked around, at the serene waters, at the carefully manicured ruins his brother had created and curated, at the giant horns rising out of the Pools of Becoming, curving inward on themselves and marking this plane as his twin’s personal retreat. “It can work,” he said at last. “But our strategy is like your mechanism here. All the gears must act in concert. All the players must play their assigned roles. We can count on Sarkhan to play his. But the other Planeswalkers, and all those souls on Ravnica…? If my brother remains invulnerable, all other precautions are useless.”

  “Zarek will do his part. I was tough on him to toughen him up, but I think my lessons will hold.”

  “Like they held with you, little cousin? It seems to me that if you’d learned your lessons, you wouldn’t be half as dead as you currently are. My brother led you around like you had a ring in your snout.”

  The dragon spirit took some umbrage at this, his semi-transparent shoulders rising, his pale-red wings flaring slightly. “No one speaks to me that way.”

  The Spirit Dragon took a little umbrage of his own. “Because you’re accustomed to spending your time around mortals. I am not that.” Then he settled back down, taking on a more conciliatory tone: “But take no offense. I’ve fared no better. And my point was that defeating Nicol Bolas will take more than a good plan. It will take near-perfect timing and damn good luck.”

  “I don’t believe in luck. I believe in preparation.”

  “That won’t be enough. Nicol is prepared to overcome any conceivable opposition. If this struggle was only about preparation, we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Then the Multiverse is doomed,” said the dragon spirit rather bloodlessly.

  “I hope not. We have one advantage. My brother puts too much faith in himself and too little in absolutely anyone else. His well-earned arrogance and unfailing contempt for anybody who isn’t Nicol Bolas presents us with this opportunity.”

  “Which in failure will result in the deaths of thousands.”

  “Millions, more likely. But even in success, the stakes are high. Hundreds will most certainly die today. It’s unfortunate but unavoidable.”

  “As always,” said the dragon spirit. “I’ve been alive for sixteen thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight years, and you’ve lived, what, twice that long, three times?”

  The Spirit Dragon scoffed.

  The dragon spirit rolled his eyes. “My point is we’ve seen it all before. Mortals rise. Mortals fall. The show begins. The show ends. And another performance follows. If I weren’t already dead, I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over one more cataclysm, no matter how devastating the carnage.”

  “It’s worse than that, and I believe you know it. If my brother wins the day, it won’t be just another cataclysm. The show will end, all right, but the next performance will be entitled The Infinite Reign of Nicol Bolas. And no other performer will ever take the stage. And after ‘a century or so’ when that fancy toy of yours ceases to function, will you really be calling for an encore?”

  This silenced the dragon spirit for a few minutes. When he spoke again, his voice was flat, clinical. “So what do we do now?”

  “Now? We wait for the curtain to rise, Niv-Mizzet. We wait for the curtain to rise…”

  His pack heavy on his shoulders, Teyo Verada trudged through the sands beneath his world’s twin suns, along the edge of the dune, trying to ignore the farting carry-beast in front of him as he daydreamed of the miracle…of the lavatory.

  Born in a tiny village nineteen years ago, Teyo was now returning from what had been his first visit to a big town like Oasis. Much to Abbot Barrez’s chagrin, the keeper of Oasis’ only inn had refused to house the acolytes in her stables. Honored to have actual shieldmages in her establishment, she had insisted on lodging them in guest rooms for the same cost as a straw-filled stall. The abbot attempted to explain that acolytes were not yet shieldmages and deserved no such luxury. But for once, the voice of his absolute authority fell on deaf ears.

  So it had been two acolytes to a room twice the size of Teyo’s cell back at the monastery, which he normally shared with Arturo, Peran and Theo. But that wasn’t the real wonder of the place. There were no chamber pots. No latrines. No washbasins that required refilling from a jug, which required refilling from a pump a hundred yards away. Water was piped right into a small lavatory down the hall for drinking, washing, bathing and, well, waste. And said waste was then piped away somehow to somewhere that wasn’t just outside your window, causing a stink worse than the carry-beast’s gases. It was a kind of miracle to Teyo, and his mind just wouldn’t, couldn’t let it go.

  But Oasis was two leagues back, and now, laden with a year’s worth of supplies, the party was headed for home in single file, crossing the sand dunes of Gobakhan, the abbot in the lead, followed by a carry-beast, followed by acolytes, followed by another carry-beast, followed by more acolytes, followed by a last carry-beast, followed by Teyo Verada, lowliest of the low, least talented of all Abbot Barrez’s students (as the abbot was so fond of telling him).

  He daydreamed of becoming an accomplished monk of the Shieldmage Order, assigned to a big town like Oasis, where one’s own worse stink was carried far away as if by magic.

  Maybe that’s a magic I could master, he thought ruefully. What’d the innkeeper call it? “Plumming”?

  He wasn’t sure what the running water had to do with plums, but he had always liked plums. They were sweet and juicy and the acolytes were each given two on Solstice morning. Teyo sighed audibly and trudged on, knowing that his meager skills with a shield wouldn’t earn him a place in Oasis or anywhere like it. He’d be lucky to land a village the size of the unnamed place he’d been born, and later orphaned, during his first—

  Suddenly someone grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him into the moment. “By the Storm,” the abbot shouted over the rising wind, “are you deaf as well as blind? Take off your pack and prepare! We’re in for it! Now!”

  Teyo scrambled to comply, shedding his pack, as sand from the Eastern Cloud sliced past his bare cheeks. Squinting, he raised his hands, tried to focus, and began chanting the geometric lore of the shieldmage.

  Barrez moved forward. “Shields up!” he shouted, his voice enhanced by magic to be heard over the now roaring wind.

  Teyo concentrated. A triangle of shimmering white light formed across the palm of each hand. Then second triangles formed at offset angles from the first two. Third triangles. And on his strong left hand, a fourth. But three-point shapes wouldn’t do, and he knew it. He needed diamonds to thwart diamonds. And Acolyte Verada was not particularly good at four-pointers. Not particularly good, particularly when under pressure. Like when the abbot harangued him during morning exercises. Like when a diamondstorm was imminent.

  His shields were off balance. His left hand, his eastern vertex, had always been much stronger than his right. He turned in profile toward the coming storm to compensate while summoning up a perfect glowing white circle beneath his right ear in an attempt to even the mana scales. It worked, more or less.

  Teyo knew the drill and willed himself to follow it.

  Four points. Four points. Four points. Four points.

  Concentric circles formed above, below, and to the left and right of his two sets of triangular shields.

  Form the lines.

  He joined each set of four circles to the others with bright
white lines of sharpened thought.

  Fill the shapes.

  He expanded his western and eastern vertices to create two overlapping diamond-shaped shields. He’d be protected now. He could take a breath. But the job was only half done.

  As the abbot taught, if all a shieldmage could protect was himself, he was a pretty poor shieldmage.

  Teyo was at the end of the line, but at minimum he needed to enlarge his shields to safeguard the hunkering, lowing carry-beast and the supplies on its leathery back.

  He took a half step forward, leaning into the sand and wind, which was already sparkling. Had he been a second slower, micrograins of diamond would already be shredding his clothes and skin. They were already lodging themselves into the thick hide of the beast, which groaned mournfully at the pinpricks of pain. Teyo used the wind as a vertical platform upon which to expand his shields. It wasn’t orthodoxy.