Legacy of the Darksword

by Margaret Weis

  Believing herself unobserved, shrouded in the twilight shadows, she had leaned down and, with one hand, drawn off the blanket from the Darksword. It was dark against darkness.

  Her father had forged the first Darksword. Father Saryon had given it Life. The blood of thousands had consecrated it. Now here was a second, another. Would blood stain its blade as well?

  Her face was so open, so honest, emotions passed across its surface like ripples on still water. I could guess her thoughts. Her words, spoken softly to herself, proved my guess right.

  “Why did he forge it anew? Why did it have to come back into the world? And what should I do with it now?”

  Sighing, she leaned against the seat, her expression sad and troubled.

  And yet, what choice did she have?

  None that I could see. Unable to offer help, I did not intrude on Eliza’s private pain. I reread the notes written by an unnamed adventurer in the land of Thimhallan, notes that King Garald had taken with him into exile.

  Zith-el is a compact city whose major distinction is that it is surrounded by the most wonderful Zoo in all of Thimhallan. Visitors traveling from other cities to see the Zoo’s wonders provide a large portion of Zith-el’s income.

  History: Zith-el —a Finhanish druid of the Vanjnan Clans—was born about 352 YL. He purchased a wife from a fellow clansman, who had captured the woman during a raid on Trandar. The woman, named Tara, was a talented Theldara. Despite a turbulent beginning, the two grew to love each other. Zith-el gave up his wandering ways and promised to settle in one place with his beloved.

  He, his wife, and their family traveled up the Hira River until Tara called a halt. Dismounting from her horse, she investigated the river, the trees, and the lands, and if legend is correct, she sat down on the spot and declared it to be her home.

  The city was built around her.

  Zith-el believed that the ground was sacred and … vowed to the Almin that he would never allow the city to expand beyond its original borders.

  And that was the reason why, as its population grew, Zith-el was forced to build up and down. It could never expand outward.

  I glanced up from my reading. The air car glided forward through the tall grass, which brushed against its sides with an irritating swishing sound. At first, we were able to see the trees of the Zoo above the waving sea of green, but we soon lost sight of them in the gathering gloom of night. The city itself was dark, that once must have glittered with light.

  Moving out of the foothills toward the gate specified—the East Road Gate—we came upon the East Road , a trail once used by overland traders. So packed and rutted was the dirt that not even the tough prairie grasses had yet covered it over. It stretched out before us, visible in the faint afterglow that purpled the sky.

  The stars were coming out. I looked at them and found myself wondering if any of those sparkling points of light were the battle cruisers of the Hch’nyv, bearing down on us. That reminded me forcibly of the time constraint. We had this night, the next day, and the next night before the window of safety slammed shut.

  The moon shone, as well, silvering the ragged storm clouds, which had continued to keep clear of us. About three-quarters full, the moon was faint now, but would brighten as the night darkened. That comforted me, though, when I thought of it, I had no idea why it should.

  Scylla brought the car to a halt. The East Road Gate was built into a small section of the Outer Wall to the west of the city. East Road therefore seemed a misnomer, but the East Road actually took its name as meaning “east road leading away from the Font,” all directions in Thimhallan having been determined from the Font, which was considered the center of the world.

  I went back to my notes.

  There are two walls around the city, the Outer Wall and the City Wall. The City Wall runs along the lines originally laid down by Zith-el (the city’s founder) and marks the place where the city ends and the Zoo begins. The Outer Wall surrounds the Zoo. Completely invisible, it allows a marvelous view of all the creatures, yet keeps them well confined. Its (the Zoo’s) nearest point to the city is some four mila from the City Wall.

  Four gates in both walls provide the only entrances and exits for overland travelers. These gates are one-way only. You step through the open portal, only to find the back sealed shut. Gates leading into the city are located on the east and west sides of the walls, while gates leading out of the city are located on the north and south sides. It is said that all the gates through the City Wall can be deactivated by a word from the Lord of Zith-el in order to keep the city protected from attack.

  The gates have a second and highly startling function. Upon entering the gate in the Outer Wall, the traveler must pass through the Zoo that surrounds the city in order to enter the city proper. Since it would disturb the sensibilities of those touring the Zoo to see other humans like themselves wandering about, the gates temporarily transform the unsuspecting entrant into the illusion of some animal.

  We might all turn into Teddies, I thought.

  Scylla shut off the engine to the air car. It settled down upon the road and we sat in darkness and in silence, watching the gate.

  Nothing, no one appeared.

  “They are waiting for us to show ourselves,” Mosiah said, his voice harsh and overloud in the stillness. “Let’s get this over with.”

  He drew his hood up over his head and put his hand on the door. Scylla reached out, clasped hold of his arm, halting him.

  “You should not go. The Technomancers have no reason to harm any of the three of us. But you …” She leaned near him, said softly, “We are close to the Borderland. Stay hidden in the car. When the Technomancers are gone, return to the base. Go back to Earth and prepare King Garald and General Boris. They have to face the fact that the Technomancers will soon be in possession of the Darksword. They need to be forewarned, to make what plans they can.”

  He regarded her in silence for long moments, such profound silence that I could hear his breath come and go. I could hear Scylla’s breathing, hear Eliza’s, hear my own. I could hear my own heart beating.

  “I wish I knew,” Mosiah said at last, “whether you were just trying to get rid of me or whether you truly cared about”— pausing, he then said, somewhat lamely—”about King Garald and the Darksword.”

  Scylla grinned. I could see her face in the lambent light of stars and moon and the setting sun. Her eyes flashed with laughter and that cheered me, too, as had the moonglow.

  “I care,” she said, and her grasp on his arm tightened.

  “About the people of Earth, I meant,” he said gruffly.

  “Them, too,” Scylla responded, her grin widening.

  He regarded her in frowning perplexity, for he thought she was teasing him and this was certainly no time for kidding around.

  “All right, Mosiah, so I was wrong about you at the beginning,” Scylla said, shrugging. “You’re not your typical Enforcer, probably because you weren’t born to it. And, as I said, you’re much better-looking than your file photos. Return to Earth. There’s nothing you can do here and you’ll only put yourself in danger and maybe us along with you.”

  “Very well,” he agreed, after another moment’s thought. “I will remain inside the car. But leave the Darksword here with me, at least until you have proof that the hostages are alive. If the Technomancers try to seize it, they will find me guarding it; something they might not expect.”

  “A fine guard,” Scylla scoffed. “You with no Life and no other weapon.”

  Mosiah smiled, for the first time since I’d met him. “The Technomancers don’t know that.”

  Scylla looked startled, then she chuckled. “You have a point, Mosiah. If your plan is okay with Eliza, it’s okay with me.”

  Eliza did not answer. I wasn’t certain she had even heard, but then she nodded, once, slowly.

  “The Almin go with you,” Mosiah said.

  “And with you,” said Scylla, and she clapped him in bois^er-ous good h
umor on the shoulder. “Ready?” We might have been going to a carnival, for her ebullient spirits.

  Eliza’s face glimmered pale in the darkness. It seemed as if I were sitting beside a ghost. She stretched out her hand, to touch either Scylla or Mosiah, but she hesitated, then rested her hand on the back of the front seat.

  “Did my father do the right thing?” she asked, and my heart ached for the agony in her voice. “All those people dying … I never realized … I need to know.”

  Mosiah turned his face away. He stared out the front of the car window, toward the city that had become a tomb.

  Scylla’s grin vanished. Her expression somber, she rested her hand on Eliza’s, and the touch that had been so brash was now gentle.

  “How can we ever know, Eliza? Toss a pebble in the lake. The ripples spread out far beyond the entry point, continue long after the pebble sinks to the bottom. Each and every action we take, from the smallest to the largest, has ramifications that we will never see. We can only do what we believe is best and right at the time. Your father did that, Eliza. Given the circumstances, he made the best decision—perhaps the only decision—he could.”

  Eliza was not speaking only of her father. She was speaking for herself. In returning the sword to the Technomancers, was she making the right decision? Would the ripples from her action fade into the placid smoothness of time’s lake or build into a crushing tidal wave?

  Eliza drew in a deep breath. She had made her decision.

  “I am ready,” she said. She drew the blanket over the Darksword.

  We opened the doors of the air car and climbed out, all except Mosiah, who hunkered down in the front seat. We left the Darksword on the floor in the back.

  Scylla had brought with her a pair of infrared binoculars. With these, she scanned the strange forest, a forest which had remained inside boundaries that were supposedly no longer there. Ahead of us was the East Road Gate—at least that’s what I assumed it was. An invisible gate in an invisible wall is not easy to find.

  “No one,” Scylla said, lowering the binoculars.

  “I feel as if someone was watching me,” said Eliza, shivering, though the night wind was warm.

  “Yes,” Scylla agreed. “So do I.” She kept her gaze forward, shifting, seeking, searching.

  “What do we do?” Eliza demanded. Her voice cracked. The strain was starting to wear her down. “Why is no one here?”

  “Patience,” counseled Scylla. “This is their game. We have to play by their rules. Remember—we must see for ourselves that the hostages are alive and well. Look inside the gate. Do you see anything?”

  I recalled what I had read. In the past, anyone who entered the gate was immediately transformed into the likeness of one of the inmates of the Zoo—a daunting possibility. For if the Kan-Hanar, the gatekeepers, discovered that you had been erroneously admitted, you might become a permanent resident of the Zoo.

  This edict maintained the integrity of the Zoo. The sight of fat tradesmen tramping through the hunting grounds of the fierce centaurs would spoil the effect. To say nothing of the fact that the centaurs—who were not illusion, but very real—might decide to feast on a fat tradesman. And so the tradesmen were transformed into images of centaurs and thus—if they kept to the path— passed through the Zoo swiftly and safely.

  Of course, the elite magi who either lived in Zith-el or had business there entered that city by way of the Corridors, and so did not have to go through the demeaning process of entering the gate. This experience was reserved for peasants, students, peddlers, field magi, and the lower ranks of the catalysts.

  “I see nothing inside the gate,” Eliza said. “Nothing at all. That’s very strange. It’s as if there were a huge hole cut out of the forest.”

  I nodded, to indicate that my view was the same.

  “And yet the magic is supposed to be gone,” Scylla murmured.

  “Not according to your theory,” I signed.

  I have no idea whether she understood me or not, it being difficult to read sign language in near darkness.

  “Are we . . , are we supposed to meet them inside there?” Eliza asked, daunted at the prospect of entering the dark maw which gaped before us.

  “No,” said Scylla reassuringly. “They said to meet outside the East Road Gate. If the Technomancers are in Zith-el, my guess is that they found some means of entering that did not involve passing through the Zoo.”

  I could well believe that the Technomancers would be reluctant to enter. Standing before the gate was like standing in the mouth of a cave, feeling the chill air that comes from deep underground touch your skin with clammy fingers. A strange smell emanated from the Zoo, drifting only occasionally to the nostrils, then vanishing. It was the smell of living things, of excrement and rotten food, mingled with the odor of verdure and loam, and, underneath it, decay.

  We stood waiting for perhaps fifteen minutes, our uneasiness growing. If the Technomancers meant to unnerve us, they succeeded, at least with Eliza and myself. I’m not sure what it would have taken to unnerve Scylla, who stood beside us, arms folded across her chest, a slight smile on her lips.

  Eliza shivered again. I offered to go back to the car for her wrap, but Scylla stopped me.

  “Look!” she said softly, and pointed.

  A figure was moving toward us, on our side of the invisible wall. It did not walk, but glided over the ground. It was alone and was, by its dress, a woman. Eliza gasped and clasped her hands.

  “Mother!” she whispered.

  The figure was Gwendolyn, coming toward us, drifting over the ground. I recalled then that she was one of the magi, that she could float where the mundane were forced to walk. But I also recalled that I had not once seen her use her magic when we were at her home. Perhaps that was out of respect for Joram.

  Gwen floated toward us, her gaze focused lovingly on her daughter.

  “Mother?” Eliza repeated, perplexed, hopeful, afraid.

  Gwendolyn dropped gracefully to the ground and held out her arms. “My child,” she said in choked tones. “How frightened you must have been!”

  Eliza held back. “Mother, why are you here? Did you escape them? Where is Papa?”

  Gwendolyn took a step toward her daughter. “Are you all right, love?” Reaching out, she took one of Eliza’s hands.

  Eliza flinched, but then, seeing her mother’s worried, loving face so near, she seemed to melt.

  “I’m fine, Mother. Only so worried about you and Papa! I heard he was hurt. How is he?”

  “Eliza, have you brought the Darksword?” Gwendolyn asked, smoothing her daughter’s black curls.

  “Yes,” said Eliza. “But Papa! Is he well? And Father Saryon? Is he all right?”

  “Of course, child. I would not have come to you otherwise,” Gwendolyn replied, with a reassuring smile. “Your father is angry with you for taking the Darksword, but if you return it, he will forgive you.”

  “Mother, I’m frightened for Papa. I saw the blood! And they killed the sheep. All the sheep are dead, Mother!”

  “You know how hot-tempered your father is.” Gwen sighed. “He was caught off guard when the Technomancers entered our house. Their leader admits that they acted rashly and he has apologized. Your father suffered a slight injury. Nothing serious. His greatest hurt lies with you, Eliza. He believes you have betrayed him!”

  “I didn’t mean to betray him,” Eliza said, her voice quavering. “I thought if I gave them the sword, they would go away and leave us alone and we could be happy again! That’s all I meant to do.”

  “I understand, daughter, and so will your father. Come and tell him this yourself. My pet!” Gwendolyn extended her hand. “We have so little time! Give me the Darksword and our family will be reunited.”

  I looked at Scylla, wondering if she would remind Eliza of the admonition to see for herself that the hostages were alive and well. Not that I didn’t trust Gwendolyn, but the thought came to me that perhaps she was acting under duress.<
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  Eliza gave a deep sigh, as if she were throwing off a heavy burden. “Yes, Mother. I will give you the Darksword.”

  Turning, she walked back to the car. Gwendolyn remained standing near the wall. Her fond gaze never left her daughter.

  I thought Scylla would make some protest, but she kept silent. It was Eliza’s decision to make, after all.

  Returning to the car, she opened the back door and bent down to pick up the sword. I think Mosiah tried arguing with her, but—if so—their conversation was brief. Eliza slammed the door irritably and started to walk back to us. She carried with her the Darksword, both hands clasped around the hilt, the sword’s blade pointed down.

  Mosiah climbed out of the car, following after her, moving swiftly, silently.

  Eliza had her back turned to him. She was facing her mother. She did not see him or hear him and Gwendolyn had eyes only for her daughter. Mosiah, in his black robes, was difficult to distinguish in the half-light. I saw him because I had been expecting him to do something like this. I had no doubt at all in my mind that he had deceived us, that he was going to try to take the Darksword by force. Scylla saw him, but she only stood, watching, that same slight smile on her lips.

  Well, she had as good as admitted that she was attracted to him. But what about her pledge to Eliza? I could trust neither of these two apparently. Perhaps they were in league with each other.

  It was up to me.

  If I could have, I would have shouted a warning to Eliza. I could not, however, and so, with an inarticulate cry, I pointed toward Mosiah.

  At the strange sound of my cry, Eliza looked at me, alarmed and startled.

  I pointed again, frantically.

  She was just starting to turn when Mosiah reached her. He grabbed hold of the Darksword.

  Taken by surprise, she tried valiantly to keep hold of the weapon, but Mosiah was strong and wrested it from her with ease. Then, to my intense astonishment, he turned and, with all his strength, flung the Darksword as far from him as he could manage. He flung it directly into the gate.

  The sword disappeared as if it had become one with the darkness.