Table Of ContentB
LOODLINES
ARTIFACT CYCLE • BOOK IV
Loren L. Coleman
®
Loren L. Coleman
Preface
THE LEGACY
Barrin paused in the classroom's open doorway, his
charitable mood fading.
Barely an hour returned to the Tolarian Academy, the
master mage had decided to walk a quick tour of the main
building before retiring, a habit he formed over his many
years as the academy's chief administrator. Tonight it
possessed the added benefit of giving Rayne a chance to
finish her own unpacking. Her private apartment was not
far down Scholar's Row from his own, and when she
finished, he thought, they might linger over a second
exchange of goodnights
Seeing light spilling down the tiled hallway, Barrin
decided to offer assistance to what was certainly tutors up
late preparing the next day's lessons. Students, of course,
obeyed a strict curfew, and the academy's full scholars
rarely, if ever, required such late-night preparations. Rayne
was likely to be waiting for him—a slight twinge against his
conscience—but he knew that in his place she also would
be checking in to offer advice. Besides, adding his personal
touch helped to keep Barrin in contact with the daily
functions of the academy. This had been, after all, his first
real leave of absence.
The first thing Barrin noticed was that someone had
punched a new door into the classroom. The rough hole in
the previously complete wall stood open, not even framed,
and at odds with the smooth plaster and elegant woodwork
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finishes put on academy facilities. A curiosity turned
slightly alarming when he recognized the room beyond
contained Urza's primary laboratory. That alarm lasted
mere seconds, as Urza himself walked from the back room
followed by the silver golem Karn. Both of them carried
books and scrolls which they added to a growing pile
surrounding the lectern. Barrin frowned over the activity.
His scowl deepened as he realized that Urza was too
distracted to have yet noticed the mage's presence—a fact
which should have been instantly registered by the
planeswalker's preternatural senses. A distracted Urza could
be a most dangerous thing.
The man standing in front of Barrin was known
throughout history as the defiler of Argoth and the
harbinger of the Ice Age, though Urza himself could not—
or would not—admit with one hundred percent certainty
that the global catastrophe resulted from his efforts. Barrin
was inclined to give the planeswalker the benefit of the
doubt, especially since his track record had improved since
coming back to Tolaria after the last major disaster, but
benefit of the doubt was one thing, careless blind faith was
another. The master mage was feeling a bit unnerved by
the sight of the deeply focused Urza. As he approached the
lectern, Barrin recognized in the 'walker's intense stare and
disconnected manner that same fanatical drive that
motivated and created the last set of cataclysmic events.
He knew that Urza was again obsessing on his personal
crusade: Phyrexia.
Those creatures had once been the ancient Dominarian
race of the Thran—who at the height of their
achievements had mastered a level of artifice unknown to
anyone since—save perhaps Urza himself. Then some kind
of war tore the Thran from their advanced ways and sent
them hurtling down a darker path toward wicked
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corruption. They were forced to leave Dominaria for an
artificially created plane—nine spheres nested inside one
another turning blacker and more torturous the closer they
get to the center—and after a time they emerged from their
exile as the twisted, hideous abominations that have
plagued Urza for millennia. For the loss of his brother, for
the death of his one-time traveling companion Xantcha,
for replacing that which was human with corrupted artifice
the realm of Phyrexia had earned its place as Urza's enemy,
one planeswalker against nine nested spheres of malignant,
venomous force. His vendetta had nearly cost him his
life—existence rather—several times over. So far, others
had paid that price for him.
Though obsession was doubly dangerous in a being so
powerful, Barrin could understand Urza's pain and nearly
forgive the planeswalker his costly mistakes. Barrin
believed in Urza's war on Phyrexia, believed that they
would return to Dominaria (had seen them with his own
eyes), and that without Urza and the efforts of the Tolarian
Academy there would be little in the way of stopping them.
For that reason Barrin had helped create the
Weatherlight, the skyship that would presumably be the
ultimate weapon against the day of invasion. Barrin always
doubted the veracity of such an assertion, but Urza had
stood adamant—convinced.
If this weapon was capable of defending Dominaria
from invasion, why was Urza again demonstrating the
distracted intensity which Barrin had learned to recognize
and fear?
Karn noticed the mage's approach first, his deep-set
eyes widening with recognition. The silver golem certainly
would have spoken a greeting if Barrin had not been
prepared and spoke first. Seldom it was that Barrin could
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take Urza by surprise, and usually he learned something
from it—never too old to be a student.
"I had not heard of your return, Urza. Welcome back."
Urza had disappeared six months ago, after helping to
settle the refugees from Serra's Realm across Dominaria
and returning only once with a handful of new students
and three new scholars, including Rayne.
Urza did not bother to turn around. He simply reformed
the patterns of energy which made up his body so that
suddenly he faced Barrin. He was obviously too
preoccupied for the more subtle nuances which gave the
illusion of his still being of normal mortal flesh.
"Barrin," he greeted neutrally, "I expected you back
three days ago."
How are you? How was your leave? Such courtesies
were left as far behind the planeswalker as normal life.
"My chances for time away from the academy come
seldom. We—I decided to take a few extra days at Angel-
wood. It's not difficult to lose track of time on Tolaria."
The planeswalker did not even bother to feign chagrin
at the reference to the island's temporally-shattered areas
where time flowed at different speeds, by-products of the
catastrophic failure of Urza's earlier experiments with time
travel. Angelwood was a moderate slow-time environment
where the enhanced sunlight and frequent but gentle rains
created a paradise of lakes and shaded glades. It was a
favorite among academy staff for sabbaticals, though the
time differential worked against those desiring an extended
term away from work. Meeting Rayne during his vacation
had seemed to shorten it even more, the time passing so
quickly in conversation and shared meals.
She was a rarity in many ways, not the least of which
being that she was one of perhaps a few dozen adult
scholars ever admitted to Tolaria. Phyrexians planted
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sleeper agents all over Dominaria but always as adults—
never children. Security at the academy usually demanded
that new students be admitted when they were in their
young teens. Senior students were promoted to tutors, and
then they could advance to scholars and eventually might
serve as chancellor, one of the eight academy
administrators. Rayne's natural talent for artifice had won
her admission and instant status as a tutor. Four months
later Barrin had signed papers promoting her to full
scholar, but it wasn't until their chance meeting at
Angelwood that the mage had truly learned to appreciate
her. She had long black hair that accented her delicate
features, and she possessed an impressive mind and
commanded a strong yet subtle presence. Barrin couldn't
explain such feelings to the planeswalker. Urza, Barrin
doubted, would not understand. Caught up in his
obsession, the 'walker barely recognized the civilities of
friendship.
Not so Karn.
"It is good to see you again, Master Barrin," the silver
golem rumbled out of his cavernous chest, putting an end
to the awkward pause that followed Urza's lack of response.
To Barrin, Karn still sounded a bit despondent. Ever
since Jhoira's decision to leave Tolaria, the golem had been
unable to hide his melancholy. Jhoira had been the golem's
best friend for several decades, and even though the silver
man claimed to understand why she left, time did not heal
his wounds.
"Did you enjoy Angelwood?" he asked.
Barrin smiled, as much for Karn's courtesy as for the
fond memories of the last few weeks. "Very much, Karn.
Thank you."
"Good," Urza said brusquely, "because we have some
hard work ahead of us, important work." He waved Karn
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off. "I will need several new desks, Karn, and a large
worktable."
The silver golem nodded perfunctorily to Urza, offered
Barrin a grim smile, and then trudged off to fulfill Urza's
request.
"So important that it could not wait for tomorrow?"
asked Barrin, now resigning himself to a long evening.
"We have delayed too long already." Urza glanced
toward the classroom's main sketchboard, covered with a
script Barrin recognized as a meld of ancient Thran and the
modern Argivian used as the Academy standard. "I've
proceeded as far as I am able alone. Completing the Legacy
will require the facilities of the entire academy if we are to
have our defenses readied against the Phyrexian invasion."
Urza paused, nodded as if agreeing with himself, and
then turned away from Barrin and the conversation. He
picked up a large roll of plans and moved to the wall,
unrolling and pinning them up against a fresh sponge-wood
board. They described an apparatus of titanic size and
complexity.
"I will annex this room until the new labs are built." He
studied the plans with a critical eye. "I wish I could find
Serra and ask her some more questions."
Thrown off by the abrupt changes of topic, Barrin
stared at the planeswalker for a moment, then just shook
his head. "New labs?" he asked. "Urza, why should we—"
The planeswalker interrupted without turning. "The
existing ones are fine and will certainly be utilized, but
cannot accommodate the needs of the Lens and Matrix."
So much for clarification.
"Urza?" Barrin began but was again cut off.
"I know that the auxiliary lenses will capture ambient
mana." Urza traced a long finger over one area of the plans
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he studied. "Filters, perhaps? To separate the mana before
focusing?"
"Urza."
"Filters, yes certainly. She must have used them. Even
Serra's Realm was not purely white mana. She mentioned
that total purity was not possible. The question is can the
Matrix focus one source of mana in alteration of the more
basic—"
"Urza!"
In the large open classroom, designed with an ear
toward acoustics, Barrin's shout rang out like a
thunderclap. Urza turned slowly from the board and his
new plans, whatever they were for, to face the mage. The
planeswalker's eyes sparked with fire, and Barrin recognized
them as the twin powerstones over which Urza had fought
his brother over three millennia ago. They surfaced in
times of weakness or intensity (when the planeswalker was
too distracted to maintain the illusion of normal eyes).
Barrin possessed no doubts that this was one of the latter.
"The Weatherlight," Barrin said simply, naming the sky-
borne vessel the academy had worked so hard to create, a
warship capable of traveling between the planes of the
multiverse. "The Weatherlight was supposed to be your
ultimate weapon. It is the core of our defense, the one
thing that the Phyrexians will be hard-pressed to match."
Urza smiled, a bit sadly. "I was overconfident," he said.
"The Weatherlight can inspire hope with the wondrous
feats already at its command, and it will hurt Phyrexia
badly in limited engagements, but it will not win the war
on its own." He paused, his eyes regaining their illusion of
being still human. "Barrin, you were there—in Serra's
Realm. That was one battle, and we nearly lost it. Alone,
the Weatherlight would have fallen. We still have work to
do."
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"It was under powered," the mage said, playing at
contrariness and defending the Weatherlight to keep Urza
talking.
"It was inadequate," Urza said with great weight,
putting an end to the argument. "The Weatherlight is the
core of the Legacy, not its entirety. Indeed, it may buy us
the time we need to complete our defense. As you once
pointed out, we cannot assume I will always be present to
direct the battle against Phyrexia. The Phyrexians still
hunt me with their negators. Other planeswalkers present a
threat as well, and there are always unforeseen .. .
occurrences." Urza possibly alluded to the years he spent as
a prisoner of Yavimaya. "Fate might yet intervene, and
though I tend to believe that even fate will not dare
gainsay my claim to oppose this evil, I will not rely on that
fact. Plans must be set down against the future to finish the
Weatherlight."
Barrin considered the Weatherlight as she already
sailed. The airship had fantastic speed, powerful
armaments, and the ability to travel between planes. What
more was there? True, Barrin concentrated on magic over
artifice, but in the decades he had spent with Urza he'd
picked up a feeling for the craft. The Weatherlight was, in
his opinion, already the ultimate artifact, with design
mated to purpose. Perhaps they could add a few
trappings—install some minor features. Wouldn't it be
better to begin looking elsewhere for answers?
When he put those thoughts into words, Urza readily
disillusioned him. "The Weatherlight is more than any
regular artifact, defined by its purpose and static in its
function. It lives." As if realizing the implication of his
words, he quickly amended the concept. "Not as you live,
of course, nor even Karn, but it shares one thing in
common with you both—the ability to evolve, to grow
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