Free Gatecrash: The Secretist, Part Two by Doug Beyer Page B

through Boros territory and into a run-down industrial district that billowed with hellish smoke—a region controlled by the Rakdos.
    “Onward, soldiers of Selesnya!” cried Trostani, spurring forward the great elementals with her magic. Hooves and boots and claws marched into the Rakdos zone, and wings swooped into the thick smoke above. “There, ahead, is our target!”
    Emmara looked into the haze ahead, and saw a private club building marked with the demonic symbol of the Rakdos and the name “The Rough Crowd.”
    “Woodshapers! Elementals! Cavalry!” Trostani called. “Shake it to the foundation!”
    As the Selesnya army neared, Rakdos warriors began pouring out of the club as if it were a barracks. Emmara balled her fists.

    Jace had already fooled the Rakdos with minor illusions. Parlor tricks wouldn’t sway them again. But there was no way he was going to beat an army of demon-worshiping sadists with individual psychic attacks. It was time to unleash major magic.
    Ruric Thar and his band of Gruul brutes were already slicing into the Rakdos, and the war party’s savagery was shocking. Bodies of broken cultists went flying as the Gruul slammed into the horde, swinging great blows of blunt might. But the Rakdos horde kept coming, and they surrounded the Gruul in moments, tearing at them with jagged blades and spiked whips.
    “Look, my pets!” came a crazed female voice. In the middle of the rampaging Rakdos horde, the blood-witch Exava stood atop a war tower, carried aloft by Rakdos minions. She had spied Jace, and pointed him out. “It’s I-Go-By-Berrim!”
    Jace made a show of conjuring a spell. His cloak whipped dramatically, and dark mystical smoke curled off his body as he intoned eldritch syllables. His eyes went black as coal, and he raised his crooked fingers from the ground to the sky, as if dragging up a great weight. The ground split, and great chunks of the street fell away into the hellish light below. Sulfurous fumes emanated from the crack, and a demonic bellow resounded.
    “Ancient lord, I call you!” Jace screamed, and obsidian fire blazed from his hands into the sky.
    To the amazement of the horde, a demonic monstrositythe size of a building climbed out of the fissure in the pavement. It had a great burning pitchfork and a regal rack of horns, and it breathed fire from its nostrils.
    “Lord Rakdos, guide us!” Jace screamed. “Lead us! We do your will!”
    The mighty demon stepped out of the fissure and toward the horde, back in the direction they had come: Rakdos guild territory. The Rakdos cultists roared with praise and delight, clearing out of the demon lord’s way, mesmerized by the street-shaking steps and its fiery weapon. The demon parted the horde, and the horde began to follow it in dark adoration.
    “That is not Rakdos , you freaks!” called Exava, and from across the battle she shot Jace a chilling look.
    Jace knew he was getting some of the details wrong. The massive illusion he was conjuring was a figment drawn from descriptions of the Rakdos leader, influenced by snippets of memories taken from Exava herself. He had never seen the demon guildmaster Rakdos in person—but he wagered that most of the Cult of Rakdos hadn’t, either. As he wove the illusion, he let other illusions of dark mystical energy curl around him for added effect. He had no power to summon demons nor mastery over diabolic magic; he was depending on the general ignorance of the Rakdos rank and file on that score as well.
    Exava had seen through the trick, but she was having a hard time overcoming the awe it inspired in her horde. Jace could see her screaming at them, trying to shake their belief in the demonic delusion. But the only authority they respected over Exava was that of the eponymous Rakdos, and they followed it blindly.
    The witch tried to lash out at Jace instead. Sheblasted out a series of pain spells, but he was ready for that tactic, and he countered and unraveled her spells before