Other bombs rained down. The sound of explosions was magnified by the cavern until Gerrard felt as if he were being shaken to pieces. Flames leaped upward. Ship after ship twisted in its death agony and fell, amid the cries of those who had been working on them. Some, bearing full payloads of bombs, exploded in white-hot sunbursts. They flung flaming shrapnel out to slice causeways and slay workers and ignite more vessels.

A skiff wound its way upward, turning and twisting to avoid the explosions and fires. It burst from the pit.

Gerrard hurled his last bomb, which caromed off the skiff's side and exploded harmlessly in air beyond. "I'm out."

"Me too."

"Here's where the fun begins."

Kyren dropped from the vessel onto the causeway, accompanied by several Mercadian guards, whose livery smoked and smoldered. Each guard bore a trident and the fiery will to use it.

Gerrard found himself facing a massive Mercadian. Easily seven feet tall, the man had a face streaked with soot and oil. He gave a yell of rage as he brought his trident down on Gerrard. The arms master dodged and parried with his sword. Its blade rang against the trident's metal handle. He drew back his sword for another stroke and was pushed violently from behind. His weapon almost flew from his hand, and he stumbled forward, tearing the skin of his knuckles against the stone floor.

There was a whiz and a thud above his head, and a peculiar choking gurgle. Gerrard looked up. The Mercadian stood stunned. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His hands clutched a trident whose spines were imbedded in his chest. The Mercadian coughed, and more blood came from his mouth. Then he fell backward and lay still.

Sisay had pushed Gerrard out of the way of the thrown trident. Now she came to her feet in a quick roll and swung her sword at the weaponless warrior. His head bounced along the floor as his body collapsed at her feet.

With a roar, Gerrard rejoined the fight. His sword darted like a swooping falcon. Where it sank its tip, bodies went down in spray.

In moments, most of the goblins fell. Three broke away and ran for their lives toward the surface tunnels. Gerrard and Sisay let them go, busy with the guards that remained on their feet.

Gerrard attacked one with a blow so powerful it flung his enemy back against the causeway rail. The guard wavered for a moment on the edge of the pit and then, with a scream, toppled and plunged.

Sisay meanwhile ran another guard through with a single thrust. In the follow-through of that stroke, she bashed the final guard to the ground with her elbow. A quick sword jab ended his struggle.

The battle was over. Thirteen dead Mercadians and Kyren lay in a bloody mess on the causeway. Beyond, explosions and flames were spreading. Most of the ships were burning. A few skiffs maneuvered among them, but flaming vessels plummeted all around. One skiff, packed with refugee goblins, went down beneath the blazing hull of a huge warship. The Kyren were thrown from their craft and fell squealing into oblivion.

"Nice work…" Gerrard said breathlessly, clapping Sisay on the back.

"Let's get… to the ship," Sisay panted.

"That's a plan 1 approve… wholeheartedly."

The cavern rocked with another massive blast. Stones fell from the ceiling and bashed the already burning ships. Cracks spread along the roof. On the far side of the hangar, a tunnel collapsed in a cloud of dust and rubble.

Gerrard and Sisay turned and raced toward Weatherlight. Even as they did, the floor beneath them shivered. Great boulders fell from the ceiling. A crack split the floor, extending from the edge of the pit. Sisay stumbled and almost fell, but Gerrard pulled her to her feet and ran on. They pelted up the passage.

Behind them, a skiff rose from the pit. Goblin faces twisted in grimaces of fear. With a deafening crash, a section of the cavern roof caved in. It fell like a huge hammer atop the skiff, pulverizing Kyren and flattening the top of the craft even as it flung it to the floor. The skiff struck rocky ground, which in turn buckled. The floor dropped into the space below it. The mountain trembled.

Gerrard and Sisay fled up the passageway as the tunnel collapsed in their wake. Up they ran, their legs aching. The way seemed endless, and their shadows leaped wildly in the flickering torchlight.

"Even if we reach the ship… how do we fly it out?" Sisay panted.

"We'll worry about that… if we live long enough…"

All day and all night, a storm had gathered above the city. Its black bulk blotted out moon and star and bore down on the mountain below. Unlike most storms, this one did not hover overhead. It crouched on the shoulders of the people. It gave weight to the ominous musings in every heart. It squeezed every pair of lungs until bitter introspection oozed forth in whispers of dread.

"The Kyren have captured the Uniter."

"They have killed Ramos."

"This storm is his wrath."

"He will crash to earth again-not in fire, but in flood."

Where private dreads mingled, they admixed and became public fury. The storm that mounded itself atop the city awoke a second storm in the streets below-a storm of rage… of revolution.

"The Kyren are parasites!"

"They are apostates!"

"They can kill Ramos, but they cannot kill us!"

"We can kill them!"

Morning light did not come to storm-swathed Mercadia. The sun's rays could not dispel clouds so deep. Nor did peace return to the streets. Tridents were impotent against such rage. Thunderheads rumbled their ominous threats, and mobs shouted their calls to arms. Lightning flicked across the sky in awesome anticipation, and Ramosans marched along the streets in open rebellion.

Lahaime lifted his voice to the heavens: "People of the mountain, arise! You have nothing to lose but your chains!"

The storm broke.

A gigantic fist of water fell from the skies and smashed into the city. The bashing torrents of rain bore among them winged skyscouts, who dropped on soldiers in the street. Water wizards descended, lightning bright, and sent jags of power to blaze through guard towers. Smoking corpses tumbled from parapets. Other Cho-Arrim-warriors and archers-rose from storm drains to join the rebellion. Cho-Manno led them, with the healer Orim at his side.

In the deluge, fountains across the city overflowed. From their deeps rose merfolk. Limned in storm light, they were glorious and horrific. Conch masks streamed rainwater. Iridescent scales gleamed goblin blood. Pearly tridents skewered boar men and cateran enforcers. Fish had become spear-fishers. Rishadan harpooners had joined the vengeful spirits of the sea. Wind-lashed and water-soaked, slim seafarers slew giants and bull-men and monsters.

The markets, too, rebelled. Farmers loosed Jhovalls upon the very soldiers who had extorted money to allow them into the city. Traders dropped tally sheets, and lifted swords, and drove the guard out. Slaves rose from their hypnotic stupor to pull to pieces the caterans who had captured them for sale. At the head of the common army was a most uncommon young man, Atalla of the tousled black hair.

Some who glimpsed these rebel farmers and exotic warriors might have thought this a coup from without, but the main body of rebels were Mercadians themselves- Ramosans and the common folk they had rallied. Scar-faced Lahaime led his marching minions through the streets. They took prisoners wherever they might. They made guards swear loyalty to the people and disavow Kyren rule. Many civilians joined them, and the rebel army grew more mighty as it moved along. Whenever rebels found a Phyrexian, it was borne in chains to one of the dumping stations and hurled from the mountain.