Legacy Of The Darksword Part 13

The Darksword had pa.s.sed out of his life.

Through anger and fear, it had been reforged.

Eliza climbed over the wall. Turning, she held out her hands. I gave the Darksword back to her and the biblical quote about the sins of the fathers came to mind.

We trudged up a long, gra.s.s-covered slope, moving cautiously, keeping watch in all directions for the silver-s.h.i.+ning Techno-mancers. We didn't see any; probably-I said to myself-because they are already nearing their goal. We did not make very good time. Clouds moved in, hiding the stars, thickening the darkness, and making it difficult to find our way.

We reached the crest of the hill. Not far from us, I could barely make out the scattered white rocks which marked the trail. I was already winded and Eliza, keeping up gamely, was breathing heavily from the exertion of climbing and carrying the sword. I gazed at the trail in despair. It had not seemed so steep or so long, coming down. Tired as we were, I wondered how we would manage, even without the sword.

I turned to Eliza and saw my dismay reflected on her pale face. Her shoulders and arms must have been burning with fatigue. The point of the sword dropped to the rocky ground, hitting it with a metallic thunk.

"We have to keep going," she said, and it was not me she was exhorting to further effort but herself.

I was about to offer to take the sword, to give her rest, when a concussive blast rocked the land. The ground shuddered beneath our feet. The blast echoed among the mountains and then finally died away.

"What was that?" Eliza gasped.

I had no idea. Though storms raged in the valley below us, that sound had not been thunder. It was too sharp and I had seen no lightning. I looked up toward the Font, terrified of seeing fire and smoke erupt from the building.

Logic eased my fear. The Technomancers would never destroy the Font if they could not find the sword.

The blast and the concern it brought lent us strength. Eliza and I resumed our climb when, for a second time, a strange sound caused us to halt. This was nearer and more frightening-the sound of footfalls, coming from very close behind us.

We were caught out in the open, with no cover. We lacked the strength to run and would not have been able to run far, in any case, hampered as we were by the heavy sword.

Eliza heard the steps the same moment I did. We both turned, and such are the incongruities of the mind that my first thought was one of relief. At least, if the Technomancers captured us, I wouldn't have to climb that d.a.m.n hill!

The person was a dark shadow against the backdrop of the trees, so dark that I couldn't distinguish features. At least,. I thought, my heart resuming its beat, the person was not not clad in silver. clad in silver.

"Wait there a moment, Reuven and Eliza, will you?" called a clear voice, a woman's voice.

The woman materialized out of the night, and as she came to us she flicked on a flashlight and played it swiftly over us.

We blinked painfully in the harsh light, averted our faces, and she switched the flashlight off us and played it down around her feet.

"What do you want?" Eliza asked, her voice strong and unafraid. "Why do you stop us?"

"Because," answered the woman, "you should not return home. There's nothing you can do to help, and much you might do to harm. By great good fortune, the Darksword has been kept out of their hands. It would be folly to cast away this opportunity."

"Who are you?" Eliza asked coldly, keeping both hands around the sword's blanket-covered hilt.

The woman stood before us, held the light on herself so that we could get a good look at her. Of all the strange sights we'd seen that night, this woman seemed the strangest, the most incongruous.

She was wearing military-style fatigues and a green flight jacket. Her hair was cut very short, almost a crew cut. Her eyes were overlarge, her cheekbones strong, her jaw and chin jutting, her mouth wide. She was tall-over six feet-and muscular and her age was difficult to guess. Older than I was, by perhaps ten years. Nine tiny earrings, in the shape of suns, moons, stars, glittered up and down her left ear. Her nose was pierced and so was her right eyebrow. She could have stepped out of some bar in Soho.

The woman fumbled in a zippered pocket, pulled out something. She flicked the light on it, snapped open a well-worn leather case, and exhibited an ID card. The light was so bright that I couldn't read the card very well and she moved the light off the card again almost immediately. She was an agent of something, or at least that's what I think the card read, but I wasn't clear on what.

"It doesn't matter. You've never heard of the people I work for," she said. "We're a very low-profile organization."

"I have to go back," Eliza said, her gaze going up the mountainside, straining to see her home through the darkness. "My father and mother and Father Saryon are there alone. And without the sword, they're in danger."

"They'd be in worse danger with with the sword. There's nothing you can do, Eliza," said the woman quietly. the sword. There's nothing you can do, Eliza," said the woman quietly.

"How do you know my name?" Eliza regarded the woman with suspicion. "And Reuven's. You knew his name, too."

"Our agency has files on both of you. Don't be upset. We have files on everyone. My name's Scylla," the woman continued.

CIA, I thought, or maybe Interpol. FBI or Her Majesty's Secret Service. Some sort of government agency. It's strange, for I had always been extremely cynical about the government, but as we stood in the darkness the thought that some immense and powerful organization was looking after us was rather comforting.

"Look, do we really have time for all this?" Scylla was saying. "You should take the sword to a place of safety."

"Yes," said Eliza. "A place of safety. That's with my father. I'm going home." She lifted the sword, or at least tried to lift it. It appeared heavier than ever.

Scylla gazed at Eliza, measuring her, perhaps; trying to determine if she was serious. A glance at Eliza's pale, rigid, and resolute face could leave no doubt, as Scylla herself must have seen.

"Look, if you're set on this, my air car's not far back," she said. "I'll drive you there. It will be faster."

Eliza was tempted. I don't think she could have carried that sword another three feet, though she would have made the attempt until she dropped down on top of it. And she was desperate to reach her father and mother. I was desperate to reach Father Saryon. I nodded my head.

"Very well," Eliza answered grudgingly.

Scylla gave me an approving clap on my shoulder that knocked me two or three paces back down the hillside. I had the feeling she had done that deliberately, to prove her strength, to intimidate us. She turned and left, running at an easy lope toward the highway, her flashlight guiding her steps.

Eliza and I stood alone in the darkness that was beginning to lighten. It was near dawn, I realized in amazement.

"We could leave, before she comes back," Eliza said.

It was a statement of fact, nothing more. Yes, we could leave. But we wouldn't. We were both too tired, the sword was too heavy, our fear and anxiety too great. We didn't have long to wait. The air car appeared, a blot against the night.

The car soared over the wall, over the trees alongside the highway. It slid quiet as a whisper through the air toward us. When it was near us, Scylla lowered the car to the ground.

"Climb in," she said, twisting around to open the back door.

We did so, bringing the Darksword with us. Settled in the backseat, Eliza placed the sword across both our knees and held on to it, to keep it from sliding off. I was uncomfortable, holding the sword. The touch of it was disquieting, unnerving, as if there were a leech on my skin, sucking out my blood. I had the feeling it was drawing something out of me, something that, before now, I wasn't even aware I possessed. I wanted to be rid of the sword, yet I could not cast it off, not without losing Eliza's trust and respect. If she could bear its incubus touch, then so could I, for her sake.

Scylla sent the air car into a steep climb and we sped up the hill, traveling smooth and fleet as the wind. Eliza stared fixedly out the front window, straining to see her home.

We approached the garden, then the building came in sight. Scylla cut the air car's engines. It hovered noiselessly above the garden wall near the spot where I'd fallen while trying to climb over.

I don't know what I'd expected-anything from the building surrounded by Technomancers to flames leaping from the roof. What I had not expected was to find the building dark and quiet and seemingly as peaceful as when I'd left.

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 b.u.t.ton.

"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 b.u.t.ton. 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 do you want?" Eliza demanded. 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. The Technomancers could be waiting for us inside! Leave the sword here.

"Do you trust her?" Eliza asked me, agonized.

Maybe, I hedged. 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. 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 Dark-sword."

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 not there, though whether that was good or bad, I didn't know. 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 gla.s.s 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 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. 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 Duuk-tsarith were standing guard on Joram. What happened? Take the night off?" 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." D'karn-darah."

"I know a lot about you, too," Scylla retorted. "That doesn't make me Duuk-tsarith." Duuk-tsarith."

"You're from the government?"