Legacy of the Darksword

by Margaret Weis

  “What is it?” she shouted. “What’s happening?”

  “Stay inside!” Mosiah yelled back. “Turn the air car around! Shine the lights on us! Kij vines! They’re all over!”

  He stomped on something with his foot. I was being dragged slowly along the rain-soaked ground, my ringers scrabbling to gain purchase, digging deep trenches in the mud. The pain was intense—the jabbing sensation of a thorn probing for a vein, and then came the sickening ache of the blood being sucked out.

  Mosiah stood above me, peering into the darkness. He spoke a word and pointed with his finger. There was a flash of light, a sizzle, and a snap.

  The vine released me.

  I crawled forward, only to feel other tendrils grab hold of me. Snaking out of the darkness from all directions, they wound around my wrists and my feet. One curled around the calf of my leg.

  The air car had turned. By the car’s headlights, I could see the raindrops glistening off the heart-shaped leaves of the deadly Kij vines, and shining on the terrible, sharp thorns.

  “Damn!” Mosiah swore, and glared in frustration at the vine. He turned and ran back to the air car.

  I thought—I don’t know why—that he had abandoned me. Panic welled up inside me, bringing with it a surge of adrenaline. I will free myself! I determined. I tried not to give way to fear, tried to remain calm and think clearly. With all the strength I possessed and a great deal I did not, I jerked my wrist and actually succeeded in freeing myself from one of the vines.

  But that was only one, and now four more at least had hold of me.

  Eliza was out of the car, ignoring Mosiah’s orders.

  “The Darksword!” Mosiah was saying. “Hand me the Darksword! That’s the only thing that will save him!”

  My face was covered with muck and my hair was in my eyes. I continued to fight the vine, but my strength was failing. The pain of the thorns was debilitating. I felt sick and faint.

  “To me!” Mosiah yelled. “Give it to me! No! Don’t risk—”

  I heard footsteps and the swish of long skirts.

  I shook the hair from my eyes. Eliza stood over me, the Darksword in her hand.

  “Don’t move, Reuven! I don’t want to hit you!”

  I forced myself to lie still, though I could feel the vines tightening, the thorns drinking deep.

  The car lights illuminated her from behind, forming a halo around her dark hair, an aura around her body. The light did not touch the Darksword. Either that or it absorbed the light into itself. Eliza raised the sword and slashed down with it. I heard it slice through the vines, but to my pain-dulled mind, she was fighting the lethal plant with the night itself.

  Suddenly I was free. The plant gave up its hold; the tendrils went limp and lifeless as a hand that has been cut off at the wrist.

  Mosiah and Scylla were there to help me to my feet. I wiped the muck from my face and, with their help, stumbled to the air car. Eliza came after us, holding the Darksword ready in her hand, but the Kij vine had apparently given up the attack. Looking back on it, I saw its leaves withered and curling wherever the Darksword had touched it.

  They assisted me to the car. Fortunately, the rain had all but ceased now.

  “Will he be all right?” Eliza hovered over me. Her obvious concern eased me like a soothing balm.

  “The pain fades quickly,” Mosiah said. “And the thorns are not poisonous. I know from experience.”

  “You were always stumbling into them, as I recall,” offered Teddy from the floor. He sounded peevish. “I warned you against them, time and again—”

  “You did not. You said they were edible,” Mosiah recalled with a half smile.

  “Well, I knew one of us was,” Teddy muttered, then raised his voice in ire. “Is it absolutely necessary for the lot of you to drip all over me?”

  “I’d feed you to the Kij vines,” said Mosiah, reaching inside to pick up Teddy, “but even they must have some taste.” He started to return the bear to the seat, but instead held him, stared at him. “I wonder …”

  “Put me down!” Teddy complained. “You’re pinching me!”

  Mosiah plunked the stuffed bear on the seat beside me.

  “How are you feeling?” Scylla asked.

  “Not well,” said Teddy, groaning.

  “I was talking to Reuven,” Scylla said severely. She rolled up my pants leg and began examining my injuries.

  I nodded, to indicate I was better. The pain was fading, as Mosiah had predicted. The horror was not. I could still feel those tendrils tightening around my legs. I shivered from cold and reaction to the ordeal.

  “You should change out of those wet clothes,” Eliza said.

  “Not here,” Mosiah stated. “Not now.”

  “For once, I agree with the wizard,” Scylla said. “Get back in the car, all of you. I’ll turn the heat on. Reuven, take off what clothes you can. Eliza, cover him with as many blankets as we have. You’ll find a first-aid kit back there. Use the ointment on those wounds.”

  Eliza returned the Darksword to its place on the floor, sliding it under the blanket, out of sight. She said no word about what she’d done to save me, and refused to look at me when I tried to sign my thanks. Instead, she searched for and discovered the first-aid kit, then busied herself with the blankets, pulling them out of the back compartment.

  The air car rose up from that illfated place and slid smoothly forward, making better time now that the storm had abated. A watery sun peered down at us, blinking, as the clouds scudded over its weak eye.

  “Mid-afternoon,” Mosiah said, gazing at the sky.

  “As dark as it was, I thought it was night,” Eliza said.

  She began treating my cuts and wounds with the ointment. Embarrassed at this attention, I had endeavored to take the tube from her, but she refused to let me. “Lie back and rest,” she ordered, and helped me peel off my sodden woolen sweater.

  She dabbed ointment on the thorn wounds, which were red and fiery, with dark blood oozing from them. When Eliza spread the salve over them, the redness vanished, the bleeding stopped, the pain eased and was soon completely gone. Eliza’s eyes widened at the change.

  “This is wonderful,” she said, looking at the small tube. “We have medical supplies sent to us by the Earth Forces, but nothing like this!”

  “Standard government issue,” said Scylla, with a shrug.

  Mosiah twisted around in his seat, studied the almost healed wounds on my arms and legs. He looked at Scylla.

  “What government issues miracles these days?” he asked.

  She glanced at him and grinned. “And where did you find that thunderbolt you launched, Enforcer? Just happen to have one up your sleeve? I thought you said your magic was depleted. No Life.” She shook her head in mock sorrow, and continued on. “And you asking for the Darksword. Quick thinking. Yet what would you have done with it, I wonder?”

  “Used it to free Reuven,” Mosiah replied. “Then I would have changed myself into a bat and flown away with it, of course. Or did you think I’d take it and try to run with it, through this godforsaken wilderness, and you with an air car to catch me!”

  He sat hunched and huddled in his robes, which were as wet as my clothes. He held his shoulders rigid, to keep from revealing that he was shivering.

  “I thought the sword too heavy for Eliza to wield,” he added coldly. “I see now that I was wrong.”

  Scylla made no reply, but from the faint flush I could see rising up the back of her neck, I believe that she was ashamed of having made the accusation. He had given his word to help us and we had no reason to doubt him. If he had a small reserve of Life left to him, that was only sensible. No wizard depleted himself utterly, if he could help it. He had voluntarily gone out into the drenching rainstorm to guard me, and if he hadn’t warned me of the Kij vines, I might well have floundered in among them so deeply that not even the Darksword could have saved me.

  Eliza offered him a blanket, which he refused with a curt s
hake of his head. She said nothing; her face was calm and smooth. She still did not trust him and she made no apology for it. She tucked the blanket around me, made certain I was comfortable. She repacked the first-aid kit, then asked if there was anything else she could do for me. She offered me the electronic notepad, in case I wanted to write anything.

  I indicated no, smiling, to show her that I was much better. And, indeed, I was. The horror was starting to recede. The air car was warming up rapidly. My shivering ceased, the pain was gone. The ointment deserved some credit, undoubtedly, but no salve can heal the terrors of the soul. Eliza’s touch had been the true cure.

  Some emotions need no words. Eliza saw in my eyes what I could not speak. A slight flush mantled her cheeks and she lookedaway from me, to the notepad in her hand. The pad provided her an excuse to change the subject.

  “I don’t want to disturb you, Reuven, if you’re tired—”

  I shook my head. She could never disturb me, nor could I ever be too tired to do anything she might ask of me.

  “I would like to learn sign language,” she said, almost shyly. “Would you mind teaching me?”

  Would I mind! I knew she was doing this only out of kindness, to take my mind off the terrible experience I had suffered. I agreed, of course, hoping it might take her mind off her own horrors. She moved closer to me. I began by teaching her the alphabet, spelling out her name. She understood immediately. She was a quick student, and within a very short time she had the entire alphabet and could run through it, hand and fingers flashing.

  The air car soared over rain-soaked grasslands, lifted and climbed up over treetops. We were traveling very fast now, though I wondered if our speed would make up for the time we had lost in the storm. Mosiah maintained his cool, offended silence.

  The sun continued to shine, though it was often hidden by racing clouds. Scylla turned down the heat in the air car, which— with the wet clothes—was beginning to resemble a sauna.

  “Those Kij vines,” she said abruptly. “They behaved rather oddly, don’t you think?”

  Mosiah looked at her, and though I was busy with Eliza, I saw a glint of interest flicker in his eyes. “Perhaps,” was all he said noncommittally. “What do you mean?”

  “They came after Reuven,” Scylla said. “Did you ever know the vines to be that aggressive? And those vines had grown tall and thick. Isn’t that unusual?”

  Mosiah shrugged. “The Finhanish are no longer around to keep them thinned out. The Sif-Hanar are no longer here to control the weather. Of course, left alone, the Kij vines would thrive.”

  “Plants born of magic,” Scylla mused. “Created by magic. One would think that when the magic in this land was depleted, the plants would lose their source of sustenance and they would die off. Not grow more abundantly.”

  “Born of magic?” Eliza interrupted our lesson to ask. “What do you mean? We grow corn and carrots and wheat and there’s nothing magic about them.”

  “But there is about the Kij vine,” Mosiah replied. “It was created at the end of the Iron Wars, when some of the D’karn-duuk—the warlocks and war masters—saw the battle ending with themselves on the losing side. They had already used their magic to turn humans into giants, or twist humans into a combination of beast and man, which became the centaur. The warlocks perverted plant life, developing the Kij vine and other deadly vegetation, used them to ambush the unwary.

  “When the wars ended, the ranks of the D’karn-duuk were depleted. They could no longer control their own creations, and so the giants and the centaur and the Kij vines were left on their own, to do what they could to survive.”

  “I heard stories about the centaur,” Eliza said. “They captured my father once and nearly killed him. He said they were cruel and loved to inflict pain, but that this came out of their own great anger and suffering.”

  “I have to work very hard to feel sympathy for the centaur,” Mosiah said dryly, “but I suppose this is true. Or should I say it was true, for they must have died when the magic died.”

  “Like the Kij vines,” said Scylla, her pierced eyebrow arching. “And certain bears of my acquaintance.” She glanced back at Teddy, who smirked at her and winked.

  “Here’s a thought,” she said. “What if the first Darksword did not destroy the Well of Life, as everyone has always supposed. What if, instead, the Darksword capped it?”

  “Impossible. The magic was released into the universe,” Mosiah stated.

  “The magic of Thimhallan was released, and perhaps a gush of magic from the Well. Then the Well was sealed. And ever since, the magic has been building beneath the surface… .”

  “Well, really!” Simkin cried suddenly. “I won’t stay to be insulted.”

  With that and a flash of orange scarf, Teddy vanished.

  “What was all that about?” Eliza asked, bewildered. “Where did he go?”

  “I wonder.” Mosiah glanced sidelong at Scylla. “I wonder about a lot of things.”

  So did I. If Scylla’s theory was right and the magic had been building beneath Thimhallan all these years … what would happen? One effect was most obvious. Magic—strong and powerful—was available to whoever might be able to use it.

  But surely, I argued with myself, if that were true, then certainly the Duuk-tsarith would have discovered it long ago.

  Perhaps they had. Perhaps that is why they are so desperate to attain the Darksword. Not only could it destroy the Life that might be building beneath the Well, but if the new Darksword were to be given this powerful Life, its own power might be increased.

  I turned the question upside down and inside out in my mind and never came to a satisfactory answer. It didn’t seem to me that there could ever be an answer. Within forty-eight hours, we would flee this place, most likely never to return.

  Mosiah said nothing more. Scylla appeared lost in thought. The two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. I continued my lesson with Eliza.

  I was relieved that Teddy was gone, until I remembered my master’s warning—that it was always better to know where Simkin was than where he wasn’t.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “It takes nerves of stone to enter Zith-el in this manner.”

  DARKSWORD ADVENTURES

  We reached Zith-el not long after sunset. The afterglow— bright beneath gray storm clouds—tinged the sky with a lurid red that tipped the snow-covered mountains of the Ekard range with blood. It was an ominous sign and one that was not lost on my companions.

  “Of all the cities on Thimhallan, Zith-el was the one that suffered the most damage when the Well of Life was destroyed,” Mosiah told us. “The buildings of Zith-el soared countless stories into the air. The people also tunneled deep into the ground in search of living space. When the magic was withdrawn and the fearsome quakes shook the land, the buildings fell, the tunnels collapsed. Thousands died, crushed to death, trapped in the rubble, or buried alive beneath the ground.”

  The air car slowed. Zith-el’s Outer Wall, which had protected the city from invasion, had been a wall of magic, completely invisible, much like what we on Earth know as a force field. The wall should have been destroyed.

  Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn’t.

  We had no way of knowing, and after the Kij vines we could no longer assume that magic on Thimhallan was as depleted as we had once thought. I remembered what the Technomancers had said about “residual pockets.”

  All that could be seen inside the city was the thick forest, which had been part of the marvelous Zoo, for which Zith-el was known. Oddly, if the wall was gone, the forest had not encroached onto the grasslands.

  “Were there any survivors in Zith-el?” Eliza asked. Her voice was strained. Mosiah said no word of blame, but the daughter of the man who had caused the downfall of Thimhallan must feel defensive.

  “Yes,” Mosiah answered, “and they were the most unfortunate of all. When the magic was weakened, the creatures of the Zoo were set free and took their revenge on those who h
ad kept them prisoner.”

  Eliza gazed on the city that had once teemed with life, whose walls now encompassed nothing but death. She knew the history of her father and what he had done and why he had done it. Joram was honest, brutally honest, and I do not believe that he would have spared himself in the telling. In all probability he had judged himself more harshly than even his detractors.

  But sealed up, safe and secure, inside the Font, Eliza had never been brought face-to-face with the knowledge of what her father had done to this world and to its people. Father Saryon and I had disturbed Eliza’s tranquillity by bringing her visions of a different world. The Technomancers had shattered her happy life, her innocent pleasure in her home and her family. Mosiah’s words and the crumbled walls of Zith-el shook her faith in her father, the worst and most painful shock of all.

  The air car had slowed. Scylla lowered it into the tall stands of grass that surrounded the city. The shadows of the mountains had brought dusk to us on the plains, though the sky was still bright behind them. She kept the lights off.

  She and Mosiah discussed how best to proceed, arguing over whether it would be better to remain in the air car or leave it outside the city and enter Zith-el on foot.

  “The Technomancers know we are here,” Mosiah observed. “With their sensor equipment, they’ve probably been following us since we left the Font.”

  “Yes, but they don’t know how many we are or if we have the Darksword,” Scylla argued.

  “We’re here, aren’t we?” Mosiah returned bluntly. “Why else would we come?”

  Scylla admitted that he had a valid point, but she urged stealth as opposed to driving right up to the gate. “At the least, we should not turn over the Darksword until we are assured of the hostages’ safety.”

  Mosiah shook his head.

  I left that decision to them. With four of us facing an army of Technomancers, it didn’t seem to me to make the slightest bit of difference what we did. Pulling out my electronic notebook, I began looking up some reference material I had acquired on Zith-el, thinking to let Eliza read my notes.

  When I found them, I started to show them to her, then checked myself.