The air car crept forward, drifting over the white flowers with their heavy, drooping heads. The car came to rest not far from the back door.
“There’s no one here!” Eliza exclaimed, clasping my hand in her excitement. “They didn’t come! Or maybe we’re ahead of them! Open the door, Reuven!”
My hand was on the button.
“They’ve been here,” said Scylla. “They’ve been and gone. It’s over.”
“You’re wrong!” Eliza cried. “How do you know? You can’t know… . Reuven, open this door!”
She was frantic. I hit the button. The door swung open. Eliza slid out. She turned to retrieve the Darksword, which I was still holding.
“You should leave the sword hidden in the car,” Scylla advised, climbing out. “It will be safe here. You’ll need it later—for bargaining.”
“Bargaining …” Eliza repeated the word, licked dry lips.
I slid across the seat, out from under the sword. Even in my worry and fear, I was relieved to be free of its loathsome touch. Eliza stared suspiciously at Scylla, then made a grab for the sword’s hilt.
“If I leave it, you’ll take it!” she said, struggling to lift the Darksword.
Scylla shrugged. “I can take the sword anytime I want.” Hands on her hips, she smiled at us and her smile seemed menacing. “I don’t think you two could do much to stop me.”
Eliza and I looked at each other and reluctantly we acknowledged the truth. Neither of us was in any shape to battle this woman, although, I recalled, I had not seen her carrying a weapon, either on her person or in the air car.
“But I don’t want it,” Scylla continued. She slammed shut the car door on her side. To my astonishment, she tossed me the keys.
“What do you want?” Eliza demanded.
“Ah, now that’s a bit more difficult to explain,” Scylla replied.
Turning on her heel, she walked across the garden, leaving us with keys to the air car. We could do what we pleased with the Darksword.
I drew out rny electronic notepad, typed swiftly. The Technomancers could be waiting for us inside! Leave the sword here.
“Do you trust her?” Eliza asked me, agonized.
Maybe, I hedged. What she said makes sense. She could have taken the sword from us back there on the highway. It would have been like taking candy from two babies.
“I hope you’re right,” Eliza said fervently. She shut the door and I locked it. The Darksword, wrapped in its cloth, lay on the backseat of the air car.
I, for one, was glad to be rid of it. I felt stronger, my weariness eased. I was more hopeful. Eliza also seemed relieved to be rid of the burden. We hastened after Scylla and reached her just as she was entering the door through which I’d come out.
The hallway was dark and silent. Perhaps it was my overwrought imagination, but the silence had a chill feel to it. It was not the blessed silence of a house asleep. It was the silence of a house that is empty. A tinge of smoke hung in the air. We came to my room. The door was partially open and I distinctly remembered having shut it when I left.
I stepped to the door, looked inside, and stood, transfixed.
The bed had been ripped open by what appeared to be giant claws. Long slashes cut through the mattress. Gouts of feathers lay in heaps on the floor. My knapsack had been torn apart, my clothes strewn about the room. My other possessions—shaving kit, comb, brush—were scattered everywhere.
“You see,” said Scylla. “They were searching for the Darksword.”
Despair robbed me of breath. I ran to Saryon’s room. Eliza stood dazed in the hall, staring with disbelief at the destruction.
The door to my master’s room was wide open. His bed had been torn apart as well, his possessions trampled and flung about. He was not there, though whether that was good or bad, I didn’t know.
With a wild and incoherent cry, Eliza ran down the hallway, heading for the main living quarters. I followed after her, adrenaline pumping, sparking my tired legs to exertion.
Scylla, shaking her head in sorrow, followed more slowly behind.
We reached the door leading to the warming room. Eliza gave a moan, as if she’d been struck, and her body sagged. I was there to catch her, hold her, support her, though it was all I could do to support myself. I was sick with horror.
Dawn’s light filtered through the window, filtered through a faint and rapidly dissipating haze of smoke. Recalling the blast, my first thought was that a bomb had exploded. The floor was strewn with the wreckage of shattered, smoldering furniture. The curtains had been torn from the windows; the glass was cracked and broken. Beyond the warming room, in the kitchen, the table had been overturned. Chairs were smashed.
“Father! Mother!” Eliza called.
Coughing in the smoke, she pushed me away and started toward the door opposite, the door which led to her parents’ rooms.
A figure, clad in black robes, took shape and form from the smoke. Eliza halted, appalled and frightened.
“You won’t find them,” he said. “They are gone.”
“What have you done with them?” Eliza cried.
The man cast his hood from his face and I recognized Mosiah. He folded his hands together before him. “I did not take them. I tried to stop the Technomancers, but there were too many of them.” He turned his face to me. “They took Father Saryon as well, Reuven. I am sorry.”
I could make no response. My hands hung limp at my sides. On the floor, near the hem of Mosiah’s black robe, was a smear of blood. I dreaded lest Eliza should see it. Moving close to Mosiah, I shoved a broken chair over the stain. But either I was too late or else Eliza read my thoughts.
“Are they all right?” she demanded, confronting Mosiah. “Were they hurt?”
Mosiah hesitated, before reluctantly replying, “Your father was injured.”
“Very … very badly?” Eliza faltered.
“I am afraid so. But Father Saryon is with him. I don’t think your mother was harmed.”
“You don’t thinkl Don’t you know?” Eliza cried. Her voice broke; she coughed again. The smoke stung our throats, brought tears to the eyes. Both of us were coughing—but not Mosiah.
“No. I do not know for certain what happened to your mother,” he replied. “It was all very confused. At least, they did not find what they sought. They did not find the Darksword. You were wise to take it away.” Mosiah’s gaze went from me to Eliza. His eyes narrowed, his voice softened. “Where is it?”
“Safe,” answered Scylla, emerging from the shadows of the hallway.
Mosiah’s head jerked. “Who the devil are you?”
“Scylla,” she replied, as if that were all anyone needed to know. She strode into the room, glanced around. Again she showed her ID card.
Mosiah took a good look at it. His brow wrinkled. “I’ve never heard of this organization. Are you part of the CIA?”
“If I were, I couldn’t tell you now, could I?” Scylla said, putting away the card. “I thought you Duuk-tsarith were standing guard on Joram. What happened? Take the night off?”
Mosiah was angry. His lips tightened. “We did not expect them to attack Joram. Why should they, when it was probable they were going to get what they wanted?”
“Ah, but they knew they weren’t,” Scylla said. “Kevon Smythe once paid a visit here. He sat in that very chair, or what’s left of it. Does that give you a hint?”
“A listening device! Of course.” Mosiah was grim. “We should have foreseen the possibility. They knew, then, that Joram had refused to relinquish the sword.” He regarded Scylla with suspicion. “You know a lot about the D’karn-darah.”
“I know a lot about you, too,” Scylla retorted. “That doesn’t make me Duuk-tsarith.”
“You’re from the government?”
“In a manner of speaking. Let’s lay our cards on the table. I can’t talk about the work I do any more than you can talk about the work you do. You don’t trust me. I accept that. I’ll work to correct your mistake. I trus
t you, but then I’ve read your file.” Scylla regarded him with increased interest. “You’re much better-looking than your file photo. What happened here?”
Mosiah appeared somewhat taken aback by this direct approach, though I could see he wasn’t pleased with that reference to his file.
“General Boris sent you,” he said.
“I know the General. A good man.” Scylla smiled. “What happened?”
“It was all over in a matter of moments, too fast for me to summon help.” Mosiah’s voice was cold, perhaps to keep from sounding defensive. “I was alone, standing watch unseen, remaining hidden in the corridors, as was our custom, so as not to disturb Joram and his family.”
“And where were the rest of the Duuk-tsarith?” Scylla asked. “You might have been left alone on guard duty, but I know you weren’t alone here in the Font.”
Mosiah’s face darkened. He did not reply. I knew the answer to that question well enough, as I’m sure Eliza did, though she was only now gradually coming to understand. The other Duuk-tsarith had been searching for the Darksword. They knew as well as the Technomancers that Joram had refused to give it up. I thought of all these dread forces, with their dread powers, mundane and arcane, searching for the sword, and of Eliza and me, in our innocence, walking off with it, snatching it out from under their very noses. A shiver crept over me. I had guessed we might be in some danger. I had never realized how great. They needed Joram and the Darksword. The rest of us were expendable.
“And so the other Duuk-tsarith were off on a little treasure hunt of their own, leaving you alone to stand guard. What made them think—wait! I know.” Scylla glanced toward Eliza. “The Darksword had been moved. You sensed its absence, though you could not detect its presence. Very well. You were alone. And then the Technomancers came.”
“Yes, they came,” said Mosiah curtly. “There is not much to tell after that.” He spoke to Eliza, ignored Scylla pointedly, which seemed to afford her mild amusement. “I never thought I’d say this, but we have that fool Simkin to thank for giving us as much warning as we had.”
Eliza and I exchanged glances. “I knew it,” she said softly, so that only I heard her.
“Joram could not sleep,” Mosiah continued. “He had been out walking, down by the sheep, and had just returned. Your mother was waiting up for him. They spoke together. I left them alone,” he said in answer to Eliza’s accusing look. “I did not intrude on their privacy. Perhaps, if I had been there …” He shrugged.
“It would have made no difference,” Scylla said quietly.
“I suppose not. I was here in the warming room when I heard Joram cry out the word Simkin! I returned, still inside the magical Corridors, to find what looked like a watered-down version of Simkin waving that ridiculous orange scarf of his and going on about Joram coming under attack from a horde of silver salt-shakers or something equally nonsensical, although I must admit that pretty well describes the D’karn-darah.
“I guessed what was happening and sent out a warning to my brethren. Joram blazed like fire and left the room. I started to follow, when the D’karn-darah stormed the house. It was then I made a mistake.”
Mosiah gazed at us steadily. “I thought … Well, you’ll see. Joram had left the room. Where else would he go, but after the Darksword? The one weapon which would protect him and Gwendolyn—”
“Oh!” Eliza gave a smothered cry, covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no!”
“Don’t blame yourself, Eliza,” Scylla said quickly. “There was nothing your father could have done. They would have captured him and the Darksword and all would have been at an end. At least now there is hope.”
But Eliza was not comforted.
Mosiah was talking, reliving the event, as if trying to figure out what had gone wrong. “I knew he had gone after the Darksword! When he came back almost immediately without it, what was I to think?”
“You thought he was deliberately keeping it hidden, refusing to use it even in his own defense,” Scylla said.
“Yes!” Mosiah was frustrated, angry. “I revealed myself to him. He recognized me and he didn’t seem all that surprised to see me. We didn’t have much time. I could hear the D’karn-darah coming. I asked him to give me the Darksword. Til take it away!’ I promised him. ‘I’ll keep it safe!’ “
“How could you?” Scylla asked. “Its null-magic would have destroyed the Corridors.”
“We had designed a special sheath for it,” Mosiah said. “Once the Darksword was inside this sheath, we could have transported it easily. Joram refused, of course. He wouldn’t give me the sword. I thought … I thought he was being stubborn, as usual. I didn’t know that he couldn’t give me the sword. I didn’t know then that he knew or guessed who had taken it.”
Mosiah raised his head, looked at Eliza. “If he had trusted me. If he had told me the truth—I know. Why should he? It was obvious at that point that I’d been spying on him.
“After that, there’s not much to tell. Within moments three D’karn-darah entered the bedroom. We could hear more inside the other parts of the house. Then another came to us, dragging Father Saryon. He was all right,” Mosiah reassured me, and he smiled slightly. “He is a tough one, Reuven. The first thing the good father said when he saw us was, ‘Don’t give it to them, Joram!’
“The D’karn-darah demanded the Darksword. Joram refused. They told him to give them the sword or he would see those he loved suffer. They had seized hold of Gwendolyn. What was Joram to do? He couldn’t give them the sword even if he had wanted to, because he didn’t have it.
“ ‘Take me.’ He tried to bargain with them. ‘Let my wife and Father Saryon go. Take me and I’ll tell you where the sword is hidden.’
“I doubt if they would have ever agreed to such a bargain, not when they held all the cards, but we’ll never know. At that moment a teddy bear, which had been lying on the bed, flew up and struck the D’karn-darah who was holding Gwen captive.”
“Good old Simkin,” Scylla said, smiling.
“Yes, good old Simkin,” Mosiah echoed dryly. “The D’karn-darah was taken by surprise, as you can well imagine. The bear struck the Technomancer on the forehead. The blow was not a hard one, but it rocked her back on her feet. In her astonishment, she let go of Gwen. The bear continued to pummel the D’karn-darah, smacking her on the face, buffeting her head, and eventually ended by clamping himself over her nose and mouth. He appeared to be trying to smother her. At that moment Gwendolyn disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Eliza repeated, bewildered. “What do you mean—disappeared? Did my mother run away? What happened to her?”
“I don’t know,” Mosiah said, angry at himself, at his own impotence. “If I did, I would tell you. She vanished. One moment Gwen was there. The next she was gone. I thought at first that perhaps some of my people had taken her into the Corridors, but later investigation revealed that they knew nothing of what happened to her.
“But Joram thought the worst. He assumed the D’karn-darah had taken Gwen. He went wild with rage, flung himself barehanded at the D’karn-darah. He caught them off guard. They had not been expecting an attack by a stuffed toy, nor one of their hostages to disappear. Joram’s lunge carried two of them to the floor. I took out the fourth.”
Mosiah smiled grimly. “You’ll find a charred spot on the bedroom floor. By that time, however, more D’karn-darah arrived. They subdued Joram … and took him away.”
“Subdued him,” Eliza said, noting that Mosiah had averted his gaze once more. “How? Tell me. What did they do to my father?”
“Tell her,” Scylla said. “She needs to understand the nature of the enemy against which we fight.”
Mosiah shrugged. “Very well. They struck Joram over the head, dazing him. Then they inserted the needles. You may have read of a practice known as acupuncture. Needles are inserted into specific areas of the body to produce regional anesthesia. The D’karn-darah have developed the reverse. Each needle is charged with elect
romagic. The stimulus it produces in the body is extraordinarily painful and debilitating. The pain is only temporary, however, and goes away when the needles are removed. But until then, a person is reduced to a state of helpless agony. When Joram was sufficiently subdued, they took him away. Father Saryon demanded to be allowed to accompany him, and of course, they were grateful to have an extra hostage.”
“You escaped,” said Scylla.
“There was nothing I could do,” Mosiah returned coldly. “I risked being captured myself and they have no reason to keep me alive. I deemed that I could be more useful surviving to fight them than throwing away my life needlessly.”
Eliza had gone very pale during the description of her father’s torment, but she stood strong and quiet. “What happened to my mother?” she asked, her voice quavering only slightly. She was fighting hard to remain under control.
“I don’t know,” Mosiah confessed. “If I had to guess, I would say that the D’karn-darah took her. But, if so …”He appeared thoughtful, then shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”
“Do you know?” Eliza turned to Scylla.
“Me? How could I know?” Scylla demanded, astonished that she was even asked. “I wasn’t there. I wish I had been, though.” She looked quite grim.
“Well, what do we do now?” Eliza was calm, very calm, much too calm. Her hands were clenched together, the fingers twined tightly, the knuckles white.
“We wait,” said Mosiah.
“Wait! Wait for what?”
“We must wait for them to contact us,” said Mosiah.
“To tell us where to bring the Darksword,” Scylla added. “To make the exchange. The Darksword for your father’s life.”
“And I will give it to them,” Eliza said.
“No,” said Mosiah. “You will not.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Now the game begins in earnest.”
FORGING THE DARKSWORD
“I will give it to them,” Eliza countered. “You won’t stop me. I should never have taken the Darksword in the first place. What they do with it doesn’t matter—”
Legacy of the Darksword Page 16
