TWO HUNTERS (PART 4, FIN)
Trouvcelot. Source: New York Public Library
Timing
Distance
Reflex
Stance
They spoke in different tongues but of one language. Vorinclex parried an ax thrust and cast Garruk to the ground. Garruk cut out one of the Praetor’s legs for a moment and instantly hacked off several carapace plates before being brought to ground again by a swiping talon.
Vorinclex locked jaws on Garruk’s weapon, but was shocked in being unable to break it under his immense bite pressure. Still towering over the 8-foot-tall human hunter, Vorinclex used his reach, his agility and unnatural (perfected!) form to slash into the meat of his opponent. When the butt of Garruk’s ax came down again and again and again on his back in a moment of weakness, Vorinclex cried with an ecstasy from finding a perfection even greater than the texts and influence of Phyrexia: the perfection of two hunters who have found their truth, their reason, their greatest partner. Vorinclex spun around and buried the top teeth of his great snout into the human’s back. This was joy.
Garruk’s vision was becoming hazy. He knew the oily blood of Phyrexians was a deadly substance that would eventually corrupt any that tasted it. He had been cursed before, and just found his freedom from the aid of the Kenrith twins. He would not lose it again. He would happily make this his final hunt, and lay his life down if it meant dying free.
The praetor’s teeth dug in. Deep under the musculature, Garruk knew that they had hit bone in a couple of places. It was just as well. He had sheared off much of the Praetor’s face, and any matching of equals like this needed blood to mix on the ground. Or in this case, blood and oil.
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Chandrah looked over.
“Teferi - look!”
“Garruk saved me. He drew away the Praetor just as it was about to separate my head from the rest of me.” Teferi enveloped a dozen Phyrexian drones in a bubble that froze them in place, allowing a Zhalfirin arbalest to shatter them into useless parts.
“I think we need them where they are”
“No! Not alone!” Chandrah wished she could do more to back up her words. So many planeswalkers and soldiers and angels and now Zhalfirin war clans had laid down all they had on this field to defy the will of Elesh Norn, but she could not lose another friend on this day. All posturing aside, Garruk was one of the few left alive who could understand what she had been through over the weeks leading up to this day. Somehow, she had to get to him.
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Bone flew into the sky. A Phyrexian arm lay on the ground, fully separated by Garruk’s mighty ax. Neither of them had mortal stamina, but both knew that they still operated under the code of battle: blood needed to be pumped to muscles, organs needed to hold together, and limbs were never ornamental.
Reflex
Garruk smelled the wind and knew a claw was coming for his throat; he pivoted and it glanced off his helm
Distance
A talon lodged itself in the Beast Caller’s shoulder. Through pelts it pierced into the meat of his broad shelf of shoulders. Vorinclex knew when to extend.
Stance
Vorinclex’s body was an amalgam of bone, sinew, joints and teeth. He had perfected himself to hunt; to surprise prey, to move with speed and strength. The ultimate hunter, he could hide reach in his large form, shooting out with talons like tentacles of a lunging Kraken. One swipe found purchase and connected with the human’s head with a crack that sent his helm flying. Now he saw the blazing eyes of humanity’s greatest hunter, unadorned and burning with a joy he knew primally. Garruk took fresh stance.
Vorinclex retreated for a moment. The pain was immense but welcome. The praetor simply needed better angles, and to re-orient.
“You may be a great general of the machine, but you bleed.”
“Simple creatures, you and i.” Vorinclex whispered;
“Simple, pure. Walk the path of compleation and join me. Find a more perfect hunter. Embrace the ultimate bloodlust.”
“Rag doll. You’re a patched toy from scrap parts. Your concept of ‘Truth’ in strength is frail. An abomination. I am happy to end it, and you. This is an honor.”
The Sinews in Vorinclex’s great arms stretched like an Archers bow, and he lunged with all the agility of the great cats in Garruk’s jungle. Distance disappeared between them an claws speared Garruk’s armor plate. The hunter screamed, enraged and hurt, but not slowed.
Vorinclex continued with a bellow. “I remember the last words of countless mortals with endless self confidence. You don’t have much left in you, meat brick.”
Wildspeaker transferred the monster’s great bulk off its legs, carried it over his broad shoulders and launched it into a tree and 20 feet down a sheer drop.
“Beast, i will be the last thing you have a chance to remember.”
The great Beastmaster leapt down and squared against his opponent.
They charged at 40 paces.
At 10 paces, the ax arced high, drawing a line of grace; Vorinclex articulated arms with an unknown number of joints.
At 5 paces, Garruk’s ax left his hand, thrust into the ground.
At 3 paces, he leapt off the butt of the ax. Every muscle screamed out as the hunter launched over the Phyrexian hulk, casting an arm bar that swung him around atop Vorinclex’s skeletal breadth from behind. Garruk locked in with the ferocity and commitment that could outlive his body and outpace his heart. He would rip the beast’s head off.
Vorinclex cried out, enraged by the one move he didn’t telegraph from his opponent. HIs long arms easily gripped Garruk, claws sinking into flesh.
Vorinclex pulled with an otherworldly might.
Garruk held and constricted. The world around him began to waver and flicker under fatigue, strain and blood loss.
Then, with a scream that would boil blood and oil, the Apex hunter of the planes, son of Raklan, caller of Beasts, wrath of the wild, primal force of nature, uncorked the vile master of the tangle and voice of Phyrexia’s hunger.
In the hunt, Timing is everything.
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Chandra leaves Teferi and runs to where she saw Garruk. She sees two masses lying on blood-and-oil soaked Dominarian soil. They both sit for far too long as she runs closer, refusing to consider what she will find.
Only one stirs.
Vorinclex’s head is far too large for Chandra to carry, but she makes do with the unwieldy thing while hoisting her limping, wounded friend.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, friend. Vorinclex was going to wreak havoc on the Warclans and Mirrans. I was distracted with…other things, that we were stretched too thin. Come; I want to bring you to Karn Teferi and the others.”
“The air is heavy here. The feeling of many worlds. Many species of flora laid atop each other. This is strange sorcery.”
“Yes, Garruk; there was a planar bridge; the Phyrexians made a tree to attack many planes. Elspeth ascended to an Archangel and marshaled an army of angels to help us. Norn is gone. So is the blue praetor. I think the Phyrexians killed the black praetor as a charlatan or traitor. I think…I think it is over.
“It is good. The great green Praetor deserved an honorable end. Even with the horrors of their war, and their poisoning voice, he was a true hunter. He had a purity that I doubt his peers could grasp.”
“You always talk this much when you’ve lost a lot of blood? It’s charming.”
“I can’t stay long. We should eat.”
-fin-