Legacy of the Darksword (19 page)

I knew then, of course, that the
reports were true. Joram had made another Darksword. He had as good as admitted
it.

Saryon stood to face him. His
cheeks were
flushed,
his voice shook, not with
weakness, but with anger. “I am not here for the sword, Joram. I have stated as
much. You know—or at least you should know—that I would not lie to you.”

Gwendolyn was on her feet, her
hands on Joram’s arm. “Joram, please!” she said softly. “You don’t know what
you’re saying. This is Father Saryon!”

Joram’s fury subsided. He had the
grace to look ashamed of himself and to apologize. But the apology was brief
and it was cold. He returned to his chair. Gwen did not go back to hers, but
remained standing behind Joram, her presence strong and supportive, defending
him, though he had been in the wrong.

Eliza was troubled, confused, and
a little frightened. This was not what she had expected.

Saryon sat back down, looked
gently, grievingly, on Joram. ‘‘My son, do you think this is easy for me? I see
the life you have made for yourself and your family. I see that it is peaceful
and blessed. And I am the one telling you it must end. I wish I could add that
it would be possible to regain such peace back on Earth, but that I cannot
promise. Who knows whether any of us will find peace when we return, or if we
will all be plunged into terrible
war.

“Smythe spoke to you of the Hch’nyv,
the aliens who have one avowed purpose and that is to destroy the human race.
They have no interest in
negotiating,
they refuse all
contact with us. They have slaughtered those we sent to them in hopes of
obtaining a truce. They are closing in on us. Our military forces have pulled
back, in order to make a final stand on Earth. This outpost is the last to be
evacuated.

“I cannot even promise that you
will be safe on Earth,” Saryon admitted, “I can’t promise that any of us will.
But at least there you will have the protection of the combined Earth Forces.
Here, you and Gwen and Eliza would be at the aliens’ mercy. And, from what we
have seen, they have no concept of mercy.”

Joram’s mouth twisted. “And if
you have the Darksword—”

Saryon was shaking his head.

Joram amended his statement,
though the twist of his mouth deepened and his tone was bitter and ironic. “If
someone
has the Darksword, then
someone
could use it to stop these fiendish
aliens and save the world. Still trying to redeem
yourself
,
Father?”

Saryon gazed at him sadly. “You
don’t believe me. You think I am lying to you. I am sorry, my son.
Very sorry.”

“
Joram,” Gwen whispered in gentle
reproof, and placed her hand on his shoulder.

Joram sighed. Reaching up, he
took hold of her hand and rested his cheek against it. He kept fast hold of her
as he talked.

“I do not say you are lying,
Father.” Joram spoke in a softened tone. “I am saying that you have been
tricked. You were always gullible,” he added, and the bitter smile warmed into
one of affection. “You are too good for this world, Father.
Much
too good.
People take advantage of you.”

“I do not know that I am
particularly good,” Saryon said, speaking slowly, earnestly, his words
gathering force as he went, “but I have always tried to do what I believed was
right. This does not mean that I am
weak,
Joram, nor
that I am foolish, though you always equated goodness with weakness. You imply
that these aliens do not exist. I’ve seen the news reports, Joram! I’ve seen
the pictures of the ships attacking and destroying our colonies! I’ve read the
accounts of the terrible slaughter, the senseless butchery.

“No, I have not seen these aliens
with my own eyes. Few men have and lived to tell of it. But I have seen the
anxiety, the concern,
the
fear in the eyes of General
Boris and King Garald. They are afraid, Joram.
Afraid for
you, afraid for all of us.
What do you think this is—an elaborate hoax?
To what purpose?
All to trick you out of
the Darksword?
How is that possible, when you have said yourself that it
was destroyed?”

Joram made no response.

Saryon sighed again. “My son, I
will be honest with you. I will leave nothing hidden, though what I have to
tell will anger you and rightly so. They know you have forged a new Darksword.
The
Duuk-tsarith
have
been watching you—only to
protect you, Joram! Only to protect you from Smythe and his associates! So the
Duuk-tsarith
claim, and I ... I believe them.”

Joram was indeed furious, so
furious that he was choked by his rage and could not speak. And so my master
was able to continue.

“I know why you made the sword,
Joram—to protect yourself and those you love from the magic. And that is why
you cling to it. And, yes, I admit that they want the Darksword and its
secrets, Joram. Bishop Radisovik—you remember him? You know him to be a good,
wise man. Bishop Radisovik received a message which he believes came from the
Almin concerning the Darksword and how it might be used to save our people.
Whether you take the sword to Earth or not is your decision. I will not try to
influence you. I care only for the safety of yourself and your family. Do you
care about the Darksword so much, my son, that you would sacrifice your family
for it?”

Joram rose to his feet. Releasing
Gwen’s hand, he stepped away from her placating touch. His voice was deep with
anger. “How can I trust them? What have I known from these people in the past,
Father? Treachery, deceit, murder—”

“Honor, love, compassion,” Saryon
countered. Joram’s face darkened. He was not accustomed to being contradicted.
I don’t know what he might have said next, but Gwendolyn intervened.

“Father, tell us what King Garald
plans for us,” she said.

Saryon did so. He related how a
ship was waiting for them at the outpost. The ship would take them back to
Earth, where housing had been arranged. He spoke with regret of things left
behind, but there was not enough room on the ship to store many personal
belongings.

“Just room enough for the
Darksword,” Joram said, and sneered.

“The hell with the Darksword!”
Saryon said angrily, losing
patience. “Consign it to perdition! I do not want to see it! I do not want to
hear of it! Leave it! Bury it! Destroy it! I do not care what you do with it.
You,
Joram!
You and your wife and your child.
These are
all that matter to me.”

“
To you!”
Joram countered. “And that is why they sent you! To make exactly this plea in
this tone!
To scare us into running.
And when we are
gone, then they will be free to come and search and take what they know I would
die before I give up!”

“You can’t mean this, Father!”
Eliza spoke for the first time. Rising to her feet, she faced him. “What if
they are right? What if the power of the Darksword could save lives? Millions
of lives! You have no right to withhold it. You must give it to them!”

“Daughter,” said Gwendolyn
sharply, “
hold
your tongue! You can’t possibly
understand!”

“I understand that my father is
being selfish and obstinate,” Eliza returned. “And that he doesn’t care about
us! About any of us! He cares only for himself!”

Joram glared darkly at Saryon. “You
have accomplished your task, Father. You have turned my child against me. No
doubt that, too, was part of your plan. She can go with you to Earth, if she
wants. I will not stop her. You may stay the night, you and your accomplice.
But you will be gone in the morning.”

He turned and started to leave
the room.

“Father!”
Eliza pleaded, heartbroken. “I
don’t want to leave! Father, I didn’t mean . . .” She stretched out her hands
to him, but he walked past her without a glance and disappeared into the
darkness.
“Father!”

He did not return.

With a ragged cry, Eliza ran from
the room, into another part of the dwelling. I heard her footsteps and then, in
the distance, a door slam.

Gwendolyn stood alone, drooping
and pale as a cut flower.

Saryon began to stammer out an
apology, though the Almin knows he had nothing for which to apologize.

Gwendolyn lifted her gaze to meet
his. “They are so alike,” she said.
“Flint striking flint.
The sparks fly. And yet they love each other. . . .” Her hand went to her mouth
and then to her eyes. She drew in a shuddering breath. “He will reconsider. He
will think about this through the night. His answer will be different by
morning. He will do what is right. You know him, Father.”

“Yes,” said Saryon gently. “I
know him.”

Perhaps, I thought. But in the
meantime it will be a long night.

Gwendolyn gave Saryon a kiss on
his cheek. She bid me good night. I bowed silently, and she left us.

The fire had died to embers. The
room was dark and growing chill. I was afraid for Saryon, who looked very ill.
I knew how exhausted he must be, for the day had been a tiring one. The evening’s
stressful and unpleasant scene had left him empty and shaken.

“Master,” I signed, going to him,
“come to bed. There is nothing more we can do this night.”

He did not move, nor did he seem
to see my speaking hands. He stared into the glowing coals, and from his words,
spoken to himself, I shared his vision. He was seeing the forge fire, the
making of the sword.

“I gave the first Darksword life,”
he said. “A thing of evil, it sucked the light from the world and changed it
into darkness. He is right. I
am
still searching for redemption.”

He was shivering. I looked around
the room, spotted a woolen throw tossed on a stool near the fireplace. As I
went to retrieve it, my eye caught a tiny flash of orange light, in the corner
between the fireplace and the wall. Thinking it might be a cinder that had
caught the wood on
fire,
I started to brush it off,
intending to stamp it out.

The moment my hand touched it, a
shiver went through my body. Smooth, plastic, it was not of this world. It did
not belong here. I saw again the green glowing listening devices Mosiah had
discovered in our house. Except why should this one glow orange . . . ?

“No reason,” said a furry voice,
near my elbow. “Except that I happen to like orange.”

Teddy sat upon the stool. The
orange glow of the listening device was reflected in his button eyes.

I might have asked how Simkin
knew what such a device was, or even if he
did
know what it was. I might
have asked why he waited to show it to us now, now that it was too late. I might
have asked, but I did not. I think I feared the answer. Perhaps that was a
mistake.

And I did not tell Saryon that
all we had said had been overheard by the Technomancers. Perhaps that, too, was
a mistake, but I was afraid it would only add to his misery.
Whereas,
if Gwen was right—and she should surely know Joram—by morning he would have
reconsidered.
By morning, we would all be gone from this place and the
Technomancers could listen to the silence.

Picking up the throw, I placed it
over Saryon’s shoulders, and rousing him from his bleak reverie, I persuaded
him to go to bed. We walked together down the dark hallway, with only the
lambent light of the stars to guide us. I offered to make his tea for him, but
he said no, he was too tired. He would go straight to bed.

Any doubts I had about concealing
my knowledge of the listening device vanished. It would only worry him to no
purpose, when he needed rest.

And if that was a mistake, then
it was the first of many to be made that night. Still another mistake, and
perhaps the most drastic, was that I neglected to keep an eye on “Teddy.”

“Wrap the sword in these rags. If
anyone stops you, tell them you are carrying a child.
A dead
child.”

JORAM;
FORGING
THE DARKSWORD

I
woke up, thinking I heard a
sound, but unable to place what the sound had been. Lying in bed, trying to
recollect what it was and not making much headway, I heard the creak of hinges,
as of a door being either opened or shut very slowly, so as not to disturb
anyone.

Thinking perhaps it was Saryon
and that he might need me, I left my bed, pulled on my sweater and jeans, and
went out into the hall and down to his room. Listening at the door, I could
hear his gentle snoring. Whoever was up and wandering around in the night, it was
not my master.

“Joram,” I thought, and though I
had been angered by his obduracy and his show of disrespect for Saryon, I felt
sorry for the man. He was being forced to leave a home he loved, a life he had
made.

“Almin give him guidance,” I
prayed, and returned to my room.

Restless, knowing I would not be
able to go back to sleep, I walked to the window and parted the curtains to
look out upon the night.