Gatecrash

Calomir puffed out his chest and crossed his arms.

“That’s not true,” said Emmara. “We haven’t given it a chance, not really, not since the Guildpact. We haven’t let Jace try to reach them …”

“You’ve tried to persuade the mind mage to help in this effort, but as Captain Calomir has said, his loyalties are anything but clear. He will not be part of our response. Do you understand?”

“Yes, guildmaster,” said Emmara.

“On the other hand, we will require you.” The dryads reached their arms out to Emmara. “Your skill with the nature elementals is now required. You will call to them. You will awaken them, to help Captain Calomir assemble the force he needs.”

“No. I won’t. I won’t be party to this. I won’t call a being of nature to an errand of war.”

“The guild is agreed,” said Trostani. “The Conclave has declared it so.”

Emmara started to object, but the words caught in her throat. Her shoulders fell.

“It is the will of all. Are you suggesting that your lone, individual voice should trump those of all the masses?”

“No, Guildmaster. But—”

“Good, then. Proceed. Captain Calomir shall direct your efforts as he sees fit.”

Emmara bowed to her guildmaster. When she turned to Calomir, her teeth were clamped together, as if she were biting words.

“Come with me, Miss Tandris,” said Calomir, offering his hand.

***

Jace tried to remember the last time he had a relaxing, tranquil day, a day at the end of which he could stretch out, knit his fingers behind his head, and sigh contentedly. Having to best a Gruul ogre warlord in single combat was dire enough, but Jace somehow had to accomplish this feat without the use of spells. If he attacked the ogre’s mind in any way, he would suffer the backlash himself. Jace wasn’t sure he even knew how to sigh contentedly.

Compared to Ruric Thar’s muscle and size, Jace had only wit on his side. He had a keen mind, and he was slow to anger. He would have to turn that into victory.

“All right, then,” Jace couldn’t believe he was saying. “We fight.”

The Gruul warriors roared in a bloodthirsty cheer.

Ruric Thar slashed overhand down at Jace with the axe arm. Jace dodged out of the way, narrowly enough to feel the wind of the cutting blade by his cheek. Ruric Thar immediately followed up with a crushing left fist, impacting with the broad side of Jace’s face. It wasn’t enough to break bone, but it sent Jace rolling across the trimmed grass of the city park.

Jace’s vision was blurred. He climbed to his knees and spat something red onto the grass. He tried to feel that he expected a blow like that, to remember that the ogre would inevitably be able to outdo him in raw strength. He felt like letting fly a torrent of the foulest curses he knew in multiple planar languages; this brawl was plainly insane. But his patient mind took over. He took a breath and blew out his anger. The circumstances were unfair, but he had to abide by the rules at hand, and win within them.

He couldn’t assail the mind—minds—of Ruric Thar, but he could observe the minds of the other Gruul warriors. He could almost read them already. They watched him intently, fists clenched in empathy. The Gruul were the underdogs of Ravnica—they felt for him.

He opened himself to it. He let their thoughts and passions flow through his consciousness, to try to study how they thought. Maybe understanding them could give him an edge against Ruric Thar.

Stop analyzing and react, one of the warriors thought.

Don’t think, you damned fool, thought another. Civilization taught you wrong. Let go of it all! Just hit him!

Their thoughts roared in his mind. They were barely even thoughts. Jace felt overrun by a stampede of unstrategic, impulsive, carnivorous instincts. He needed to understand that, to dissect the secret behind it, and use it.

Jace rushed at Ruric Thar. The ogre swung his axe-arm, but the angle was sloppy, and the blade only glanced off of Jace’s shoulder and tore his cloak. Jace’s knuckles slammed into his target, a sensitive spot in the underarm, and then he aimed for the kidney twice. The ogre reacted with an elbow, sending Jace careening.

Jace sat on the park grass again, his wounds thudding.

Stop holding yourself back, thought one of the warriors. Let the roar come out!

Thinking is getting your face mashed in, thought another. Feel! Uncage yourself!

Jace let it all in, combining the minds of all the warriors into a ring of fury with him as its center. His ribcage pounded and his lungs burned. He could hear the urgings of the warriors in his mind. They thought that in order to beat a Gruul warrior, he needed to think like one—or not think like one. They wanted him to surrender his mind, to let the rage wash over him and overwhelm his logic.

But he had a better idea.