Mosiah ignored her, continued speaking to Eliza, his tone growing softer. “I am Joram’s friend. If I thought surrendering the Darksword would free him, I would be the first to advocate such a venture. But it won’t. It can’t possibly. Surely you can see that?”
“What you say makes sense, Mosiah,” Eliza agreed. “But the Darksword is not mine and so any decisions concerning it are not mine to make. I am taking the sword back to my father. I will make that clear to this Smythe. My father will make the decision as to what to do with the sword.”
“Place the Darksword in the hand of its gloomy and doomy creator, and you might be surprised at what happens,” advised a sepulchral voice from underneath my stool. “Personally, I think he should give it to my friend Merlyn. I did mention that I knew Merlyn, didn’t I? You’ll find him hanging around down by that moldy old tomb of his. Quite a depressing place. I can’t think what he sees in it. Merlyn’s been looking for a sword for a number of years now. Some dolt tossed his into a lake. This isn’t it, but the old boy’s a bit dotty now and he probably wouldn’t know the difference.”
We had forgotten Teddy.
I fished him out, dusty and indignant, but otherwise unharmed.
I signed, “Simkin has a point. Not about Merlyn,” I added hastily. “About Joram. Once the Darksword is in Joram’s hand, it might be used to defeat the Technomancers.”
“Have you forgotten that this Darksword is not magically enhanced? No catalyst has given it Life. The Darksword stands no chance of getting anywhere near Joram’s hand,” Mosiah stated bitterly. “Kevon Smythe will take hold of it and that will be an end. We go upon a fool’s journey.”
“Just like old times,” Teddy remarked with a nostalgic sigh.
“YowYe not coming!” Mosiah said firmly.
“I wouldn’t leave me behind,” Teddy warned us. “I can’t be trusted. Not in the slightest. Much better to have me where you can keep an eye on me as the Duchess of Winifred said regarding the table where she kept her eyeball collection. She had one for every day of the year, different colors. Used to pop them out after breakfast. I recall the day one got loose and rolled across the marble floor. The house catalyst mistakenly trod upon it. You can’t imagine the squi—”
“I’ll take him,” Eliza said hurriedly. Snatching Teddy from me, she tucked him securely into the pocket of her skirt. “He can stay with me.”
Mosiah glared around at all of us. “Are you determined to do this? Reuven?”
I nodded. My duty was to Father Saryon. And even if it had not been, I would go wherever Eliza went, support her in whatever she did.
“I go with Eliza,” said Scylla.
“And I am going to Zith-el,” said Eliza.
“If you are resolved on this, we should leave. You said you have an air car?” Mosiah looked at Scylla. His expression was not friendly.
“You’re coming with us?” she asked, delighted.
“Of course. I will not leave Joram and his wife and Father Saryon in the hands of the Technomancers.”
“You will not leave the Darksword in our hands, isn’t that what you mean?” Scylla said with a sly grin.
“Take my words however you want,” Mosiah returned. “I am tired of arguing with the lot of you. Well, are you coming? Even with the air car, we will be lucky to arrive in Zith-el before dark.”
“And will your friends, the rest of the Duuk-tsarith, be joining us there?” Scylla asked, raising the eyebrow that was pierced with the tiny gold ring.
Mosiah stared out the window, into the distance, a far distance, that only he could see. “There is no Life in Zith-el,” he said softly. “Only death. Countless of our people died there when the quakes struck and the ground shifted, toppling the buildings. They lie unburied, their spirits troubled, demanding to know the reason why they died. No, the Duuk-tsarith will not go to Zith-el. There they would suffocate and their magic would be stifled, smothered.”
“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 Darksword 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.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“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
By 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 c
ould 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 Thimhallan, 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 s
hut. 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.
“Watch out!” he shouted, grabbing hold of my arm. “Kij vines!”
He pointed, and by the lights of the air car, I could see the deadly vines. I had written about them in my books, about how the vines wrapped around the limbs of the unwary, dug their thorns into the flesh, and sucked the blood of their victims, blood upon which the plants thrived. I had, of course, never seen one. I could have gone much longer without the pleasure. The heart-shaped leaves shone black in the night, glistening with rain, the thorns small and sharp. The plant appeared quite healthy, with gigantic tendrils curling over each other, layer upon layer.
Making certain to keep clear of the entangling vines, I finished my business as quickly as possible. Mosiah stood near me, keeping watch in all directions, and I was glad for his presence. Zipping up my jeans, I started back for the car. Mosiah walked at my side. The storm actually seemed to be abating; the rain was a windswept shower now instead of a torrent. I was looking forward to climbing into the warm interior of the air car when I felt something like wire wrap around my ankle.
The Kij vine! Frantically, I lurched forward, trying to break its hold. Its grip was strong. The tendril pulled my foot out from under me and began dragging me back into the main body of the plant! I gave a strangled cry and dug my fingers into the mud, trying to brace myself.
Needle-sharp thorns pierced the flesh of my leg, sliding easily through my blue jeans and heavy socks. The pain was excruciating.
At my cry, Mosiah sprang to help me. Scylla had seen me fall and was opening the car door.
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