Kissing him, she rose quickly to her feet. “I am ready.”
I was afraid Mosiah would argue or try to dissuade her. He regarded her intently for a moment, then he bowed. “Very well, Your Majesty,” he said. “I will go, and of course Reuven will go as well. I may need my catalyst,” he added.
I was filled with pride, so much that it almost pushed out my fear. Almost. I could not forget the terror of the last time we had faced the Dragon of the Night. The terror and pain of my own death. Worse—the horror of seeing Eliza die. Resolutely, I trampled down the memory. I would never have found the courage to stir a step otherwise.
“Someone must stay with my father,” Eliza said, looking at me. “I had hoped that Reuven—”
“I will stay with Joram,” Scylla volunteered. She grinned at us. The ring in her eyebrow glinted. “You’re on your own now.”
“I do not understand any of this,” Saryon said plaintively.
“You must have faith,” I signed to him.
“And you are impertinent to your teacher,” he said with a wan smile. He gave a bleak sigh. “Come, then. We will go charm this dragon.”
The Dragons of the Night loathe sunlight to such an extent that even though they burrow down into the deepest, darkest parts of Thimhallan they can find, they sleep during the daytime. This dragon was asleep, to judge by its rhythmic breathing, but its sleep appeared restless and shallow. We could hear the gigantic body move, scales scraping against the rock floor. I recalled in that other life what the dragon had said about the presence of the Darksword in its lair, how it had disturbed its rest. Either that, or its waking time was very near.
I remembered the stench from my last visit to this place. The smell seemed worse, this time. We all of us covered our noses and mouths, to keep from retching. We brought no light with us, for fear that even the beam of the flashlight might wake the dragon and arouse its ire. Moving slowly and silently, feeling our way with our hands, we crept along the last few yards of the tunnel. We rounded a corner, and came upon the dragon’s lair.
The diamond embedded in its forehead shone with a cold, sharp brilliance. It did not illuminate. We could not see the dragon. We could see nothing, not even each other, though we stood bunched together, side by side.
The dragon’s breathing reverberated through the tunnel. It shifted its body again as we stood outside its lair, and the floor shook as it flopped over on its side, its tail thrashing against the wall. The diamond lowered, the dragon had settled its head on its side, apparently. We stood in the darkness, immersed in fear and awe.
I could not have ventured inside that cavern. I don’t know where Saryon found the courage to do so. But then, where had he found the courage to suffer himself to be turned into living stone?
“Wait here,” he said to us, his words no more than a breath. “I must do this alone.”
He left us and walked into the cavern. I could not see him, but I could hear his robes rustle and the soft padding of his feet. His figure passed in front of me, blotting from my sight the light of the diamond.
Eliza clasped my hand. I held on to her tightly. Mosiah stood beside us, tense. Sometimes I could hear whispered words and I guessed that he was rehearsing his magic in his mind. Not that it would do us much good. We’d been through that before.
The Duuk-tsarithl Were they here now as they had been here in that other time? Would they try to seize the sword?
Taking hold of Mosiah’s hand, I signed my question with my fingers pressed against his palm. If he could not see my words, at least he could feel them.
“I thought of that myself,” he said back to me, his mouth against my ear. “I have sought my brethren. They are not here.”
At least that was one worry off my mind.
I had not forgotten Saryon. I walked with him in spirit every step of the way. The dragon snuffled and shifted once again. A gleam of pale light beamed from a slit in its eyelids. My heart stopped. Eliza gripped my hand so tightly that she left bruise marks on it, yet I don’t recall feeling any pain at the time.
Saryon halted, held still. The dragon breathed a great sigh, and the eyelids closed. The light vanished. Those of us in the cavern added our sighs to the dragon’s.
Saryon moved forward once more. He must be very close to the dragon’s head now, I thought. I could see the diamond again, since the dragon had changed position. The massive head was lying completely on its side, resting on the jawbone. And then I saw a hand, Saryon’s hand, looking frail and fragile, silhouetted against the diamond’s bright chill light.
The hand hesitated a moment. He must be asking the Almin for strength, as I was praying to the Almin to protect him, protect us all.
Saryon’s hand touched the diamond.
The diamond flashed. The dragon twitched, muscles contracting, a tremor passed through it. In the alternate time the Dragon of the Night had been injured, caught out in full sunlight. This dragon was probably very healthy and it was inside its dark lair. The dragon made a rumbling sound, deep in its chest. Its claws scrabbled against the floor.
“Now!” Mosiah whispered urgently, though Saryon could not hear him. “What is he waiting for? Cast the spell now!”
I cannot imagine what it would have been like to have had my hand on the dragon’s head, to feel that great beast move beneath my fingers. I could not blame my master for faltering at this juncture. His hand jerked back, the fingers clenched.
Mosiah took a step forward. Eliza pressed her cheek against my arm.
The diamond moved. The dragon was raising its head.
Saryon gave a great gasp, that I could hear distinctly, and then his hand pressed down hard against the diamond.
He spoke words that I didn’t understand. Words of power and authority. The dragon ceased to move. It might have melded with the stone around us.
Saryon finished speaking the charm and stepped back, removing his hand from the diamond.
This was the moment when we would know whether we lived or died.
The dragon reared its head up off the cavern floor. The eyes opened and the pale light that was like the light of a gibbous moon bathed us.
“Do not look into the eyes!” Mosiah cautioned loudly, loud enough for Saryon to hear.
The dragon spread its wings. I could hear the rustle and the creaking of its tendons, and thousands of tiny, sparkling deadly lights appeared in the cavern’s darkness.
The dragon spoke, the voice vibrated with fury, and I breathed easier.
“You are the master,” it said.
“I am,” Saryon replied, his own voice firm. “You will do as I command.”
“I do so because I am constrained to do so,” the dragon answered. “Take care that you do not lose your hold over me. What is it you want?”
“In your lair is an object which we greatly value. We want to retrieve it safely and take it away with us. After that, we will trouble you no more.”
“I know of that object,” said the dragon. “It is a sword of light. It hurts my eyes, destroys my rest. Take it and be gone.”
“A sword of light?” Eliza whispered wonderingly.
“Eliza,” Saryon called to her, without turning his gaze away from the dragon. “Come and take the Darksword.”
“Go with her, Reuven,” said Mosiah.
I could not have stayed behind. We walked forward, Eliza and I, into the dragon’s lair. The light of the eyes focused on us, flared around us.
Though spellbound and constrained not to harm us, the dragon was tempting us to lift our gaze and meet its eyes, hoping we would fall victim to the madness. The feeling was in my heart that it would almost be worth the madness in exchange for a single glimpse of a creature of such wondrous, cruel beauty.
To banish the temptation, I kept my gaze on Eliza. She looked to the rock cairn that covered the Darksword.
“Make haste, my children,” urged Saryon quietly.
Was he at last recalling that other time? The time in which we were his childre
n? I hoped he was. Though it had ended in tragedy, I wanted him to know the love I bore him flowed from that time, as well as my own. He was my father.
Reaching the rock cairn, Eliza and I began to take it apart. We worked as swiftly as we could, lifting the rocks and tossing them aside. At last, the Darksword came into view. It did not shine, as I had almost expected from the dragon’s words. It did not reflect the moonlight of the dragon’s eyes. It seemed, instead, to reflect the dragon’s darkness. Eliza took hold of the Darksword by the handle and raised it up.
“Cover it!” the dragon shrieked, and the light from its eyes was hooded, plunging us into darkness.
Hastily, Eliza wrapped the Darksword in its blanket, which had been lying near it.
“Take it and get out!” The dragon writhed and thrashed, as if it was in the most terrible pain.
“This way!” Saryon called, his voice alone guiding us, for we could not see.
Clasping hands, finding comfort in each other’s touch, Eliza and I advanced cautiously toward his voice. We tried to hurry, but we were afraid of falling over the rocks, bones, and other debris scattered around. The journey across the dragon’s lair, with the great beast roaring and lashing out so near us, was terrifying. Saryon’s voice, calm and steady, guided us through the nightmare.
“Here, I am here!” Saryon cried, and his hands found us in the darkness, his arms gathered us to him. “My children!” His embrace on us tightened and I knew then that he had seen into that alternate time. “My children!” he repeated.
My heart swelled with love for him, love that enhanced the love I felt for Eliza, expanded that love until it filled me completely, admitted no room for fear. I was no longer afraid of the darkness or the dragon, the Technomancers, or even the Hch’nyv. The future might be filled with horror. I might never see the sunrise, I might be dead by morning. But this moment, with this blessed feeling warm inside me, would be enough.
Saryon’s grip tightened still further. I felt his body tense.
“Be careful,” he warned softly. “Someone is in here.”
“Father,” came Mosiah’s voice at almost the same moment. “Get out of there! Now!”
The dragon had ceased its pain-filled roar. It lay still on the cavern floor, its eyes hooded, so that only a slit of pale light shone from them. I could still sense its hatred of us, but that hatred was now tempered with fear.
“Father!” Mosiah’s call was urgent.
“Wait,” said Saryon quietly.
A figure stood before us in the middle of the dragon’s lair. Calm and relaxed, she might have been standing in our living room back home. She took no notice of the dragon, who had pressed its body back up against the wall, as far from her as it could manage.
“Mother!” Eliza breathed.
Mosiah was beside us. “It could be another trick!”
My first thought was that the Technomancers must be very brave or very desperate to enact a charade before such a dreadful audience as the Dragon of the Night. Then I realized that desperate was an apt description of Kevon Smythe as we had last seen him.
Gwendolyn looked exactly as I had seen her when we first met, except that the lines of care and worry had been smoothed from her face. Her expression was serene. She had eyes for only her daughter, and no Interrogator could have mimicked the love and pride with which she gazed upon Eliza.
“It is my mother,” Eliza said, her voice aching with longing. “I am sure of it.”
“Wait,” Mosiah counseled. “Don’t go near. Not yet.”
Remembering the horror of the last meeting with the Interrogator, Eliza remained standing beside Saryon. She wanted this to be real. Yet how could it? From where had Gwendolyn come? And why had she come to us now, in the middle of the dragon’s lair?
“I want you to meet someone, Daughter,” Gwen said.
She reached out her hand, reached into the darkness, and another figure appeared, shimmering into view at Gwendolyn’s side. I was reminded of Simkin, for this second figure had the same watercolor, transparent look to it that Simkin had exhibited when he wasn’t playing at being stuffed. Gwen led the figure by the hand, drew the figure close to us.
And then I recognized the person. I gasped and looked wildly at Eliza. I even reached out and touched her, to make certain she was real. Eliza stood beside me and Eliza stood before me, both at the same time or, rather, one in one time and one in another. The one before me I recognized as Queen Eliza. She wore the same blue riding habit, the same circlet of gold glinted in her dark hair.
Mosiah sucked in his breath. Saryon smiled wistfully, sadly. He kept his arm around Eliza, supporting her.
“What … what is this?” Eliza, my true Eliza, cried brokenly. She stared at her reflection in time’s mirror. “Who is this?”
“You, my daughter,” said Gwendolyn. “You as you might have been in another time. She cannot speak to you, for in her time she is dead. I alone can understand her words. She wanted to prove to you, to all of you”—her gaze swept over every one of us, lingered longest on Mosiah—”that everything you have experienced has been real. That I am real.”
“I don’t understand!” Eliza faltered.
“Look at yourself, Eliza. Look at yourself and open your mind to the impossible.”
Eliza stared long at the shimmering figure and then she suddenly looked around at Saryon, who smiled and nodded yes to her unspoken question. She next looked wildly at me and I signed, “I am as you remember, in this time and the other.”
Her lips parted, her eyes glistened. Her gaze next went to Mosiah, who grudgingly and reluctantly inclined his hooded head.
“I am your Enforcer, Your Majesty,” he said, a hint of irony in his voice.
“Your Majesty. So Scylla called me. I never even noticed that until now. So some part of me did know, even then,” Eliza said softly, wonderingly, to herself.
“And now, my daughter,” Gwendolyn said, “you must heed my instructions and obey them. You must take the Darksword to Merlyn’s tomb. Now. This moment. It must be lying on Merlyn’s tomb at midnight.”
“Merlyn!” Eliza was amazed. “Teddy kept talking about Merlyn. He said something about giving the sword to Merlyn—”
“Oh, Blessed Almin!” Mosiah snorted in disgust.
“But … Father. You don’t know, Mother!” Eliza went back to her point of main concern. “They’ve poisoned him! I must give them the sword or Father will die.”
“Take the sword to Merlyn’s tomb,” Gwen repeated.
“Why?” Mosiah asked harshly. “Why take it there?”
“Trust me, Daughter,” said Gwendolyn, ignoring Mosiah. “Trust yourself. Follow your heart.”
A cry shattered the darkness. From back in the tunnel, where she was guarding Joram, Scylla shouted, “Mosiah! They’re coming! Look out! I can’t stop—” Her voice was cut short.
We heard scuffling sounds and then the tramping of many pairs of booted feet. The dragon lifted its head, anger rumbled in its chest. The eyes opened wider, the light that drove men to madness gleamed more brightly.
Gwendolyn was gone and so was the image of Eliza.
“Father!” Eliza cried.
“No time!” Mosiah said urgently, catching hold of her. “We have to find a way out. Simkin said there was another exit. Father Saryon! The dragon! It must know another way. You must command it to show us.”
“What? Oh, dear, no!” Saryon was alarmed and appalled. He cast the dragon a sidelong glance and shuddered. “Not again. The spell is slipping. I can feel it.”
“Father Saryon,” Eliza pleaded. She held the Darksword, wrapped in the blanket. “Mosiah is right. This is our only chance. How else can we take the sword to the tomb in time?”
Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead. “I could never deny you anything. Reuven used to complain that I spoiled you. But then, you two were all I had.”
Saryon left us. He walked over to stand, once more, in front of the dragon. He kept his eyes lowered.
>
“Make certain the sword is hidden,” Mosiah said to Eliza. “You remember what happened the last time.”
Then it had been the Duuk-tsarith who had attacked us. Then Eliza had wielded the Darksword and its power had broken the spell. Outside, in this time, I could hear the footsteps coming nearer. I wondered what had happened to Scylla and hoped with all my heart that she was safe. I trusted that they would not hurt Joram any more than he’d been hurt already. They needed him alive still, so long as his daughter was in possession of the Darksword.
“Dragon,” said Saryon. “I command you. We are in danger. Help us to escape those who pursue us.”
“You are in danger, old man,” said the dragon, its lip curling to reveal hideous, yellowed, and bloodstained fangs. “Your danger lies ahead of you, not behind.”
The diamond’s light was rapidly dimming. As Saryon had warned, the spell was slipping. The dragon started to crawl toward us. It began to lift the night-dark wings. I could see the sparkle of the deadly stars.
Saryon drew himself up tall. I saw in him now what I had seen in him before, in our living room, facing a king, a general, and the dread leader of the Dark Cultists. His inner strength, his love for us, his faith in his Creator shone brighter than the dragon’s hideous light.
“Dragon, you will obey me,” said Saryon.
The diamond on the dragon’s head flared, glittered with brilliance. The dragon glared at him balefully, but it was constrained by the charm’s unseen force to lower its head. The Dragon of the Night bowed before Saryon. The pale eyes were slits of enmity, but the dragon kept them hooded.
“If you dare, old man, climb upon my back.”
“Quickly, children!” Saryon urged. “Mosiah?”
“I will stay behind to cover your escape,” Mosiah said.
“But they’ll kill you!” Saryon cried.
“Come with them, Duuk-tsarith,’“ the dragon said, its voice grating. “I will deal with those who pursue you. I feel the need to kill something!”
Mosiah did not wait to be asked twice. I now trusted him. He was loyal to his word and would have defended us to the death, but he still had hopes of obtaining the Darksword and was loath to let it out of his sight.
Legacy of the Darksword Page 30