Legacy of the Darksword (26 page)

“But you will go,” Scylla said.

“I will go,” Mosiah said, and he
was grim. “As I told you, my friends are being held captive there. Besides, it
doesn’t make much difference to me whether or not my magic is stifled. After
the battle I have little Life left within me. Unless we bump into a catalyst on
the way, I will be good for nothing except throwing rocks. Don’t count on me to
defend you!”

Or defend himself, I thought,
recalling how the Technomancers were hunting him.

“And how do we know we can trust
you?” Eliza asked.

“I will take your oath,” Mosiah
said, “on one condition. I will do all in my power to restore the Darksword to
Joram, its creator. But if we fail, then I claim the right to transport the
Dark-sword back to my king.”

“If we fail, you will have no
king. The Technomancers will see to that,” said Scylla.

Suddenly, astonishingly, she
flung her arms around Mosiah and gave him a hug. She was taller than he was by
a head and far stronger. Her hug squeezed his shoulders together and caved in
his chest. “I like you,” she said. “And I never thought I’d say that to an
Enforcer. If you give me the keys, Reuven, I’ll drive the air car around front.
We’ll need food and blankets. I have water with me.”

Releasing him, she clapped him on
the back and then strode purposefully from the room. I could hear her heavy,
booted footsteps all the way down the hall.

As I went to help Eliza with the
food and blankets, I looked back and saw Mosiah standing in the center of the
empty, decimated room. A gentle breeze from the window stirred his black robes.
His hands were clasped before
him,
he had drawn his
hood over his head. I judged, by the tilt of his hooded head, that he still
stared far off into that distance which was his alone to view. But now he was
searching for someone or something and not finding it, apparently.

“Who the hell are you?
” ,
The words hung like the taint of smoke in the air.

“And then the magic filled me! It
was like the Life of everything around me, pouring into me, surging through me.
I felt a hundred times more alive!”

DOOM
OF THE DARKSWORD

B
y the time Eliza and I had
gathered up bedding and food, Scylla had driven the air car around to the front
of the building. We loaded the bedding and the food into the luggage area in
the back. That done, we stood looking somewhat bemusedly at the air car, which
only seated four—two in the front and two in the back. The Darksword, wrapped
in its blanket, lay across the backseat.

“That should go in the rear,”
said Mosiah.

“No,” Eliza said swiftly. “I want
it where I can see it.”

“Put it on the floor in the
backseat,” suggested Scylla.

Eliza grasped hold of the sword,
tugged the blanket over it more securely, and laid it across the floor of the
backseat. Mosiah took his place in the front, next to Scylla—if Eliza wanted to
keep an eye on the sword, I think Mosiah was determined to keep an eye on
Scylla. That suited me well, however, leaving me to sit in back with Eliza. She
started to climb in beside me.

“Blessed Almin!” she cried
suddenly, straightening and turning to look down the hillside.
“The sheep!
I can’t leave them penned up. I’ll water them
and turn them out to pasture. It won’t take a moment. I’ll be right back.”

She was gone, running down the
hillside.

“We have to stop her!” Scylla
said, starting to climb out of the air car.

“No,” Mosiah countered, his voice
harsh. “Let her see for herself. Then maybe she will understand.”

See what? I didn’t like this.
Jumping out of the air car, I ran after Eliza and soon caught up with her. My
legs were stiff, the muscles starting to tighten after the physical exertion
from last night. I gritted my teeth against the soreness as we dashed down the
hillside toward the sheep pen.

Even from this distance, I could
see something was terribly wrong. I tried to halt Eliza’s wild rush, but she
angrily flung off my restraining hand and plunged ahead. I slowed my pace, to
ease the burning in my legs. There was no need to hurry, nothing we could do.
Nothing anyone could do.

When I arrived, I found Eliza
leaning heavily against the stone fence. Her eyes were wide, the lids stretched
with horror and disbelief.

The sheep were dead. All of them,
slaughtered. Each of them bled from the ears. Pools of blood had formed under
each mouth and nose. Eyes stared, clouded over. Each lay where it had fallen,
with no sign of a struggle. I recalled the blast we had heard. Even from a
distance we’d felt the concussive force. The Technomancers, their power running
low, had used the deaths of these animals to replenish their supply.

Eliza’s head sank to her hands,
but she did not cry. She remained standing, her head bowed, so still and rigid
that I was frightened. I did what I could, in my poor silence, to comfort her,
letting her feel my touch, to know that human warmth and sympathy surrounded
her.

The air car slid soundlessly down
the hill, pulled up in front of us. Scylla climbed out. Mosiah remained in the
car, regarding the slaughter with equanimity.

“Come, Your Majesty,” said
Scylla. “There is nothing we can do.”

“Why?” Eliza asked, in muffled
tones, keeping her head down. “Why did they do this?”

“They feed off death.” Mosiah’s
voice came from the air car. “These are the fiends to whom you are taking the
Darksword, Eliza. Think about it.”

I hated him at that moment. She
could have been spared this. She knew well enough, having seen the destruction
in her own home, what she faced. But I was wrong, as it turned out, and he was
right. He gauged her strength and quality better than I.

She raised her face and she was
composed, almost serene. “I will go alone. I alone will take the sword to them.
The rest of you should not come. It is too dangerous.”

That could not be, as Scylla
pointed out with great practicality, refraining from mentioning anything in
regard to Eliza herself, but talking only of our own needs. Who would drive the
air car? We needed Scylla. As for Reuven, I would not leave Father Saryon to
the Technomancers. And Mosiah would never permit the Darksword to venture far
from his sight. Each of us had our reasons for going.

Eliza accepted the logic of all
this quietly, did not argue. She returned to the air car and slid inside. She
glanced once more at the dead sheep and her lips tightened, her hands clasped.
She looked away. I climbed in beside her, as Scylla returned to the driver’s
seat.

The air car skimmed over the
surface of the ground, much smoother than when I had driven a similar vehicle.
I fumbled for something which had struck a strange chord in my mind. Not an
ill-sounding chord. It was pleasant, in fact.
But strange.
I tried to remember what it was.

Your
Majesty,
Scylla had called Eliza twice
now.
Your
Majesty.

How odd.
Yet
how fitting.

The start of our journey was
uneventful. Scylla had brought a map of the land of Thimhallan, obtained from
some archives somewhere—she was vague as to details. Mosiah was both intrigued
by it and suspicious of it, for it was apparently recently drawn, contained
changes in the landscape that had been made by the devastating quakes and
storms following the release of the magic.

The two spent several minutes
arguing over the map. Mosiah claimed it had been drawn by General Boris’s
people, which meant that they had violated the treaty. Scylla countered by
saying that the
Duuk-tsarith
had violated the treaty themselves. Mosiah
had better look to his own sins before he accused others.

I’m not sure how much longer the
bickering would have continued, but Eliza, who had been sitting in the back,
white-faced and silent, asked quietly, “Is the map useful?”

Scylla looked at Mosiah, who
muttered something to the effect that he supposed it was.

“Then I suggest we use it,” Eliza
said. She curled up in the corner of the seat and closed her eyes.

After that, Scylla and Mosiah
spoke to each other only when it was necessary to discuss directions. The air
car soared off down the mountainside, heading for the interior of Thimhallan.

I made certain Eliza was
comfortable, covered her with my jacket, for which consideration I received a
wan smile, but she did not open her eyes. She held Teddy in the crook of her
arm, pressed close to her breast for comfort, as a child might. I was certain
that Teddy had arranged himself in this enviable position, but I dared not move
him for fear of disturbing her rest.

I settled back in my corner,
feeling somewhat cramped in the backseat, which—so far as I could tell—was not
intended for transporting any creature possessed of legs. I knew I should
sleep, for I would need to be well rested to face whatever it was we would face
at the end of our journey.

I closed my eyes, but sleep would
not come. My body was in that state of overfatigue where the nerves twitch and
the mind travels restlessly over past events.

I felt guilty for having
abandoned Father Saryon, although I don’t know what good I could have done had
I been there. And at least I had warned Eliza away from the Technomancers,
although if they had taken the sword then and there, Joram and Gwendolyn and
Father Saryon might not have been abducted.

What’s done is done, I told
myself. You acted for the best.

I spent a few more fruitless
moments worrying about what we were going to do when we arrived at Zith-el, for
I was certain that Mosiah would never permit Eliza to relinquish the Darksword.
Would he try to stop her? Would he try to take the sword? Was he truly devoid
of magical Life or was that a deceit to throw us off guard? Scylla had pledged
her loyalty to Eliza. Would she fight Mosiah, if it came to that? And who was
Scylla anyway?

Was Father Saryon all right?
Would the Technomancers kill him, as they had promised, if we didn’t give up
the sword? Was it wise to give up the sword to these evil people? Was this all
wasted effort, if the Hch’nyv were going to wipe us out?

Eventually, these concerns—over
which admittedly I had no control—so wore out my brain that it gave up and
surrendered to weariness. I slept.

I awoke to darkness, a driving
rainstorm, and an urgent need to relieve my bladder.

There being a distinct lack of
bathroom facilities on Thimhal-lan, I would have to make do with the bushes.
The rain pelting down on top of the air car did not fill me with any great
enthusiasm for going out into the violent storm, but the urgency of my need
gave me little choice.

Eliza slumbered in her corner,
undisturbed by the tumult of the storm. By her placid face and even breathing,
she slept deeply and dreamlessly. Fearful of waking her, I leaned forward as
noiselessly as I could and tapped Scylla on the shoulder.

Scylla glanced around swiftly,
keeping a tight grip on the wheel. Driving the air car must have been
difficult, due to the storm. We were being buffeted by strong
winds,
the windshield wipers could not keep the window clear
of the rain. If it had not been for the radar, with which the air car was
equipped and which provided us with a virtual map of the terrain, we could not
have kept going. As it was, we crept along, with Scylla fixing her gaze on the
radar screen and Mosiah peering out the blurred window.

I made known my request. A bright
burst of lightning nearly blinded us. Thunder cracked overhead, the rumble
shaking the air car.

“Can’t you hold it?” Scylla
asked.

I shook my head. She checked the
radar screen, found a clear place, and lowered the air car down onto the
ground.

“I’ll go with him,” Mosiah
offered. “There are dangers out there for those who don’t know the land.”

I indicated that I would be
grateful for his company, but it wasn’t necessary for him to get drenched on my
account. He shrugged, smiled, and opened the car door.

I opened the door on my side and
started to climb out.

“What? What’s happening?” Eliza
said sleepily, blinking her eyes.

“Pit stop,” said Scylla.

“What?” asked
Eliza.

Embarrassed, I didn’t wait to
hear more.

The wind nearly ripped the door
from my hand, pulling me halfway out of the car. I struggled out the rest of
the way. Rain soaked me to the skin in an instant. I wrestled with the door,
finally managed to slam it shut. The force of the wind blew me several steps
toward the front of the car. Mosiah fought his way around the vehicle, his
black robes sodden and clinging to his body. He had thrown off his hood, which
was ineffectual against the wind and rain. It was at that moment I knew that he
truly was devoid of Life. No wizard with any power left would have subjected
himself to such a wetting.