we should be at the golden bubble we saw.”
Koth stared blankly at Venser, who moved his eyes to Elspeth.
“How will we know when we are near the bubble?” Elspeth asked.
Venser gestured grandly at Koth. “We have a geomancer, who is familiar with alloy and true metals. He will begin to taste the gold in the air.”
Koth looked doubtfully at the artificer. “There is no smell in the dark of a tube.”
“Of course there is,” Venser said. “Let us have light and we’ll have a look.”
Venser raised his finger, and the glowing blue wisps crept from it and twirled into the air.
“Guess I’ll be able to see the gold inclusions in the native metal,” Koth grumbled.
They walked the rest of the distance in silence. They stopped where the path came together overhead and peered into the darkness.
“If I were Phyrexian I would lay a trap here,” Elspeth said.
Their guide was squatting and staring ahead. He was very still for some time. Then he stood. “There is no Phyrexian there,” he said.
Venser sent his wisps into the hole. Soon it was bright within. The tunnel was strangely uncluttered and smooth. Venser leaned close and could see the grow lines on the side of it. The lines reminded him of those he’d seen on shells near the ocean. “I don’t know how long it took the tube to grow this distance, but I can’t think it happened slowly.”
“Why?” Elspeth said.
“Neither the old nor the new sections show any oxidation,” Venser said. “But the very old parts, like just here, they show discoloration.” The artificer walked a distance farther and pointed. “These happened a good time ago. Without knowing what type of metal this is, I cannot tell how long it takes to oxidize.”
They entered the hole. Venser went first and Koth came second. Elspeth drew her sword and its glow cast light enough for all to walk. They walked until the air in the tube became oppressive and close. Venser could feel the heat in the tube collecting around his face. Sweat trailed down his neck and forehead. His sleeves were wet by the time he stopped.
“Koth,” he said. “What do you smell?”
“Rust,” Koth said. “And metal.”
“Do you smell gold?”
“No,” he said. “And you know I cannot sniff out metals like a dog, don’t you?”
“How does gold smell?” Elspeth said.
“Sweet, sort of,” Venser said. “Would you mind melting us an escape, Koth?”
The geomancer scrambled over to where Venser pointed. The roof of the small passage was low and twice already Koth had hit his head.
But he did not straighten as he placed his hands on the warm metal of the tube. Soon it began glowing and then it disappeared from around his hands. The dark void of the vast chamber was visible. Koth moved his hands to another part of the metal. Soon there was a rough opening.
“Not there,” Koth said. He moved his hands down and did the same thing. The second hole revealed not the darkness of the cavern, but a bright shine. Koth cleared the edges so the hole was large enough for him to crawl through. The guide stood by the hole and waited as Elspeth and Venser crawled through.
The room they crawled into was large and made out of a golden metal. It shined, and by some power there was light enough to fill the entire room. Cracked orbs floated in the dusty air. At one side of the room was a very large throne of tiny gears and machine works. The walls were covered with crackling images that moved. Blurred moving images of the surface of Mirrodin. Some of the walls were dark. Most were dark. Another panel showed an absolutely vast horde of torn and twisted phyrexianized soldiers with huge metal claws and limbs of snaking metal intertwined with what appeared to be pulsing pink nerve clusters wound into tubes. There were hundreds of them, thousands, all marching across the bleak terrain.
“This must be part of the Panopticon,” Venser said. “Destroyed at the green sun’s ascent. I read about it.”
“What did you just say?” Elspeth said.
“Memnarch, the Father of Machines, the annals on Dominaria say. He had an observation room. This might be where the Father of Machines looked through the eyes of his spies.”
They heard a shuffling sound and spun on their heels. Three forms charged out from behind the throne. They were huffing, with black oil dripping in globs from their mouths and eyes. Their mouths were huge and tooth crammed and their eyes were tiny. Their bodies were covered with runes. In places, the runic metal was peeling away to show the duller metal underneath. Their claws were huge and of pocked, greenish metal. And they wasted not a moment in their attack. They scrambled forward, swinging their claws.
Koth jumped to evade the first troll’s savage cross swing. He stepped in and seized the arm, which went red and fell from the Phyrexian’s body. It all happened quickly, but not quickly enough. The other troll swung at Koth from the side and connected with his chest, sending him flailing, his chest cut wide. The blood came but Venser did not have time to watch before the foe was on him. A second later he blinked away and appeared behind the Phyrexians. Venser rushed forward with the words of power playing on his lips. He took a breath, and with his hands glowing he plunged them up to the elbow through the metal back of the nearest Phyrexian. The mechanized insides of the creature felt odd and alien to his fingers. But he found the metallic organs and conduits and twisted. He took a strong handful and yanked. The creature threw its arms up and then convulsed. It realized what was happening and turned, pulling Venser around like a rag doll. But before the creature could fully turn, it went limp and tumbled into its compatriot, knocking it over. Elspeth was there with her sword to end the Phyrexian’s frenzied stirrings. All three lay dead a moment later.
“Those were trolls,” Koth said, pushing his toe into one of the still bodies.
“Where did they come from?” Venser said.
“They were lying down behind the throne,” Koth said. “I think they wait until prey becomes available.”
Elspeth had a queer look on her face. Venser looked for a wound, a tear in her white robe, but saw nothing. “What is it?” he said.
“I may have discovered something,” Elspeth said.
“Yes?”
“That beast did not notice me until I moved.”
“What do you mean?” Koth said.
“I froze next to you both, and that Phyrexian did not attack me initially. When I drew my weapon I was attacked.”
Venser thought back. He had not noticed that behavior. On Dominaria during the wars against the Phyrexians, they had moved quickly no matter what you did. But that was a different place. Mirrodin’s Phyrexians were different than those he’d observed in other places. That was to be expected, because phyresis incorporated differently. Certain groups took to infection very easily, he suspected. It’s the ones that didn’t take to infection that they needed to find.
“So, you didn’t move and the buggies didn’t bother you?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“This is possible,” Venser said. “I suspect.”
“I don’t want to wait and have one of them tear out my innards because I didn’t move.”
“Well no,” Elspeth said. “And I have not noticed it with the others we encountered.”
“Wouldn’t say you hung back much with those,” Koth said.
“That is true.”
Venser was staring at one of the panels on the wall, the one with all the moving Phyrexians. As he watched, they crammed together surging to move, seething.
“This room amazes me,” Venser said simply. “I can imagine all of these panels showing a different view.”
“Where are they going?” Elspeth said about the clustered Phyrexians on the screen.
“Maybe nowhere,” Venser said.
“Why do they always move?”
“Phyresis affects the nervous system. It fuses all the natural jumps of the body, making the creature very