Legacy of the Darksword (33 page)

“You fear the
Duuk-tsarith.
Of
which I am one.”

“True, but you have always been
of an independent nature Mosiah, and were not afraid to go your own way, if you
thought the other way wrong. That was why Her Majesty chose you to accompany
us. You are the only one of her Enforcers she felt she could trust.”

“What is it you fear the
Duuk-tsarith
will do?”

“Why, try to seize the Darks
word, of course,” Scylla responded.

“So that is why we’re here,”
Mosiah said thoughtfully.
“ ‘I
am prepared to take the
responsibility,’ the Queen said. Eliza means to use the Darksword. And Father
Saryon knows where it is.”

“
Certainly.
Didn’t Her Majesty explain this to you before we left?”

“Perhaps Her Majesty does not put
as much faith in me as you do,” Mosiah said wryly.

Scylla sighed. “One can hardly
blame her—after all that’s happened. Emperor Garald believes that the
Duuk-tsarith
are
under his control and will obey his commands.
Certainly, they’ve given him no reason to think otherwise, but still . . .”

“You don’t trust them.”

“The Darksword is a great prize.
It could give them enormous power, especially if they discovered the secret to
making more swords.”

“I don’t see how. No one with
Life can use it. The Darksword would drain them of their magic and leave them
helpless.”

“That bump you took
must
be
severe,” Scylla said. “Or maybe it’s a recurrence of those injuries you
suffered in the collapse of Lord Samuel’s house during the battle. Whatever it
is, you’re obviously not thinking straight. The Dead among the
Duuk-tsarith
would
wield the Darksword.
You
were the one who told me that is why the Dead
were recruited in the first place. And then it’s widely known that the
Duuk-tsarith
don’t believe in the Bishop’s prophecy. Like many others, they think it’s a
political device cooked up by the Emperor and Radisovik to frighten the rebels.”

“My head throbs,” Mosiah said,
and he sounded very plaintive. “Remind me of this prophecy.”

Scylla lowered her voice, spoke
solemnly. “That the Devil himself was raising an army against us. Demons armed
with Hell’s Light would come down on us from the skies and destroy every living
thing in Thimhallan.”

So startled and alarmed was I by
this prophecy that I turned in consternation and stared at Mosiah.

“The Hch’nyv!”
I signed.

“What?” Scylla demanded. “I don’t
understand. What is he talking about?”

“A previous conversation we had.
It is not important.” Mosiah made a swift motion with his hand, counseling me
to keep quiet. “This prophecy . . . when is it to be fulfilled?”

“This time tomorrow, the demons
will launch their attack. Thus Bishop Radisovik was told: ‘Only the Darksword
in the hands of Joram’s heir can save us.’ “

“And who gave the Bishop this
infor—this prophecy?”

“A being of light,” said Scylla,
sounding awed. “An angel sent from the Almin.”

“I can understand how my brethren
in the
Duuk-tsarith
could be skeptical,” Mosiah said. “I must admit I
find it hard to believe.”

Scylla drew in a deep breath,
seeming about to argue or reprimand. Slowly, however, she released it. “This is
not the time for another of our theological debates. Though I do worry about
your soul and pray for you nightly.”

Mosiah appeared considerably
taken aback by this statement and didn’t seem to know what to say. Scylla was
also silent, preoccupied.

I was watching them and listening
as best I could while keeping one eye on the path ahead. He started to speak,
but she interrupted him.

“I wish Her Majesty had discussed
this with you!” she said, then added decisively, “Still, it is only right that
you know. But this must be kept secret. The Emperor sent a message to Earth, to
General Boris.”

Scylla paused, expecting Mosiah
to look shocked. He accepted this news very calmly.

“What is wrong with that? General
Boris and King—I mean Emperor Garald are friends, after all.”

“Hush! Never say such a thing
aloud! Don’t even think it! It would be worth the price of the Emperor’s life
if it were known that he had ties with the enemy.”

“
The enemy.
I see. What did our enemy General Boris have to say about this heavenly
missive?”

“
That the Devil
is indeed coming, though not perhaps in the form we might expect.
Boris
went on to add details about an invasion force that had destroyed Earth’s
outposts and was now rapidly closing in on Earth. He said that Earth Forces
would do what they could to protect Thimhallan, although he added in a closing
note that he feared they fought a losing battle and warned us to ready our
defenses.”

Mosiah and I again exchanged
looks. I turned away with a sigh.
The Hch’nyv.
It had
to be. I had hoped that we had left them behind in that other time, but that apparently
was not the case. They were coming and they were right on schedule. We had less
than forty-eight hours to stop them.

The Darksword in the hands of
Joram’s heir.
The Darksword in Joram’s hands.
How could a sword in
anybody’s hands halt the advance of an alien horde, when neutron bombs, photon
missiles, laser cannons—the most sophisticated, powerful killing machines
humans had ever devised—had not put even a dent in their armor?

I felt suddenly very tired, my
footsteps dragged. This was all so futile! Hopeless! Our feeble struggles were
doing nothing more than alerting the spider to the fact that we were tangled in
its web. I was thinking it would be far better to sit down beneath these lovely
oaks with a couple of bottles of good wine and drink a final toast to humanity,
when a hand smote me between the shoulder blades.

“Cheer up, Lord Father!” Scylla
said, and after nearly knocking me flat, she very kindly assisted me to keep my
balance. “Joram’s heir will soon have the Darksword and then all will be well.”

She strode past me, going to the
front of the line in response to a gesture from Eliza, a gesture that I had not
even seen, so dark were the thoughts surrounding me.

All during this conversation, our
path had been veering downward at a gentle slope. The oaks gave way to poplar
and aspen, these gave way to willows. I had long heard the sounds of rushing
water, and rounding a bend, we came in sight of a narrow, swift-flowing river.
The Hira River , or so I recalled from my research; it cuts right through the
heart of Zith-el. Like the inhabitants of Zith-el, the Hira was tame and placid
when it was inside the city, but became rough and dangerous and wild when it
entered the Zoo.

The sun shone bright on the
water, its light warm on my face. Looking into the heavens, I saw the white
wisps of clouds drawn like flimsy veils over the blue sky. Cotton from the
cottonwoods drifted down around us, a summer snowstorm.

The water was green where it ran
smooth, foaming white where it leapt over rocks, black where it ran beneath the
overhanging limbs of the trees lining the bank. Some distance from us was one
enormous willow, which leaned far out over the river, its arms gracefully
outstretched, its leaves trailing through the water. Its exposed roots were
gnarled and huge, like knuckles on a boxer, from the effort of keeping fast
hold on the soil.

“There.” Father Saryon pointed. “That
is our destination.”

We walked along the bank,
approaching the willow, and none of us said a word. I do not know what the
others were thinking, but in my mind I saw the river red with blood, the willow
withering in flame, the blue sky gray with smoke. But whereas before I had been
despairing, now I was angry.

We would fight to save this: the
sun, the sky, the clouds,
the
willow. Hopeless though
it might be, though no one would be left alive to tell of it, we would fight to
the very end.

Father Saryon pointed at
something else downstream from our position and said something; I couldn’t hear
what, due to the bubbling of the water. I moved closer, coming level with
Scylla and Eliza. Mosiah did not immediately join us. When I looked back for
him, I saw him kneeling down on the path, in apparent conversation with an
enormous raven with bristling black feathers, which gave it a hunchbacked appearance.

The
Duuk-tsarith
often
used ravens as an extension of the Enforcer’s ears and eyes.

“—not far,” Saryon was saying. “There
at the bend. Be careful. The path along the riverbank is muddy and very
slippery.”

There was a slight drop-off from
the path in the woods to the path along the riverbank, caused by the churning
of the water in a small pool below us, which had eroded the bank. Saryon was
about to make a clumsy descent. I interceded, offering to go first and stand
ready to assist those who came after.

Scylla remained on the highest
part of the path, her hand on her sword hilt, keeping watch all around us. I
gathered up the skirts of my robes and half jumped, half slid down to the river
trail. Once I had regained my feet, I turned and reached out my arms to Eliza.
She did not hesitate, but made the jump with skill. She did not really need my
help, but she ended up in my arms anyway.

For a brief moment we held fast
to each other. She looked up into my eyes and I gazed down into hers. She loved
me! I knew then that she loved me, as I loved her. My joy was bright as the
sunshine on the water, but the next moment the joy flowed into a shallow,
stagnant pool, dark and dismal.

Our love could never come to
anything. She was Queen of Merilon and I was her house catalyst, a mute
catalyst at that. She had duties and responsibilities to her people, duties in
which I could assist her, in my humble calling, but only in my humble calling.
She was betrothed. I knew her future husband well; he was the son of Emperor Garald
and was much younger than Eliza. They were waiting for the boy to come of age.
The marriage would strengthen the Empire, forever bonding the kingdoms of
Merilon and Sharakan.

Provided, of course, that the Hch’nyv
did not kill us all first.

Eliza slipped out of my grasp. “You
help Father Saryon now, Reuven,” she said softly, and walking a slight distance
from me, she turned away from me and stared out across the glistening water. I
watched her a moment, saw her hand reach up to her eyes, but the movement was
swift and was not repeated.

She had accepted her duty and was
resigned to it. Could I do less, with her brave example before me?

I held out my hand to Father
Saryon, and helped him safely to the bank below.

“It wasn’t
this difficult
twenty
years ago,” he
said.
“At least not that I remember. I managed by myself
without any trouble at all. I was much younger then, of course.” He came level
with me and looked at me intently. “Are you all right, Reuven?”

“Yes, sir, I am,” I signed.

He looked from me to Eliza, who
remained standing with her back to us all, and his expression grew sad and
sorrowful. I saw that he
knew,
that he must have known
for some time.

“I am sorry, my son,” he said. “I
wish—”

But I was never to know what he
wished, for he was unable to express it. Shaking his head, he went to Eliza and
rested his hand gently upon her arm.

Scylla jumped and landed beside
me, with a rattle of armor and a thud that shook the ground. She brushed off
brusquely my attempt at assistance.

“Where is the Enforcer?” she
asked impatiently, and turned back to peer up the bank.

Mosiah stood above us, a dark and
ominous figure in his black robes, which fluttered in the wind. The raven
hopped on the ground at his side.

“Father Saryon,” he called. “Where
are you bound?”

Saryon gazed up at him. “There is
a cave in the bend of the river—”

“No, Father,” said Mosiah, and
his voice was deep and stern. “You must find some other path. We dare not go
near that cave. The raven has warned me. That cave is the dwelling of a Dragon
of the Night.”

Scylla looked alarmed. Eliza
paled and her eyes widened. Father Saryon was not the least bit disconcerted by
this news. He nodded and smiled. “Yes, I know.”

“You know!” Mosiah leapt from the
bank. His black robes billowed around him. He drifted like a sooty wisp of
cottonwood to the bank and landed in front of Saryon. The raven, taking wing,
flapped and fluttered at his shoulder. “You know and you will go anyway?”

“Do you realize, Father,” Scylla
added, “the risk we run? An army of warlocks could not win a battle against a
Dragon of the Night, should it awake and attack us.”

“I know the risk well,” Saryon
said, with a flash of his old spirit. “I ran that risk myself, all alone,
twenty years ago. Not out of choice, mind you, but out of desperation. I don’t
need you three to remind me.”