Legacy of the Darksword (23 page)

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
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 glass 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
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
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.”

“I know a lot about you, too,”
Scylla retorted. “That doesn’t make me
Duuk-tsarith.”

“You’re from the government?”

“In a manner of speaking.
Let’s lay our cards on the
table. I can’t talk about the work I do any more than you can talk about the
work you do. You don’t trust me. I accept that. I’ll work to correct your
mistake. I trust you, but then I’ve read your file.” Scylla regarded him with
increased interest. “You’re much better-looking than your file photo. What
happened here?”

Mosiah appeared somewhat taken
aback by this direct approach, though I could see he wasn’t pleased with that
reference to his file.

“General Boris sent you,” he said.

“I know the General.
A good man.”
Scylla smiled. “What happened?”

“It was all over in a matter of
moments, too fast for me to summon help.” Mosiah’s voice was cold, perhaps to
keep from sounding defensive. “I was
alone,
standing
watch unseen, remaining hidden in the corridors, as was our custom, so as not
to disturb Joram and his family.”

“And where were the rest of the
Duuk-tsarith?”
Scylla asked. “You might have been left alone on guard duty, but I know you
weren’t alone here in the Font.”

Mosiah’s face darkened. He did
not reply. I knew the answer to that question well enough, as I’m sure Eliza
did, though she was only now gradually coming to understand. The other
Duuk-tsarith
had been searching for the Darksword. They knew as well as the
Technomancers that Joram had refused to give it up. I thought of all these
dread forces, with their dread powers, mundane and arcane, searching for the
sword, and of Eliza and me, in our innocence, walking off with it, snatching it
out from under their very noses. A shiver crept over me. I had guessed we might
be in some danger. I had never realized how great. They needed Joram and the
Darksword. The rest of us were expendable.

“And so the other
Duuk-tsarith
were off on a little treasure hunt of
their own,
leaving you alone to stand guard. What made them think—wait! I know.” Scylla
glanced toward Eliza. “The Darksword had been moved. You sensed its absence,
though you could not detect its presence.
Very well.
You were alone. And then the Technomancers came.”

“Yes, they came,” said Mosiah
curtly. “There is not much to tell after that.” He spoke to Eliza, ignored
Scylla pointedly, which seemed to afford her mild amusement. “I never thought I’d
say this, but we have that fool Simkin to thank for giving us as much warning
as we had.”

Eliza and I exchanged glances. “I
knew it,” she said softly, so that only I heard her.

“Joram could not sleep,” Mosiah
continued. “He had been out walking, down by the sheep, and had just returned.
Your mother was waiting up for him. They spoke together. I left them alone,” he
said in answer to Eliza’s accusing look. “I did not intrude on their privacy.
Perhaps, if I had been there . . .” He shrugged.

“It would have made no
difference,” Scylla said quietly.

“I suppose not. I was here in the
warming room when I heard Joram cry out the word
Simkin!
I returned,
still inside the magical Corridors, to find what looked like a watered-down
version of Simkin waving that ridiculous orange scarf of his and going on about
Joram coming under attack from a horde of silver salt-shakers or something
equally nonsensical, although I must admit that pretty well describes the
D’karn-darah.

“I guessed what was happening and
sent out a warning to my brethren. Joram blazed like fire and left the room. I
started to follow, when the
D’karn-darah
stormed the house. It was then
I made a mistake.”

Mosiah gazed at us steadily. “I
thought . . . Well, you’ll see. Joram had left the room. Where else would he
go, but after the Darksword?
The one weapon which would
protect him and Gwendolyn—”

“Oh!”
Eliza gave a smothered cry,
covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh, no!”

“Don’t blame
yourself
,
Eliza,” Scylla said quickly. “There was nothing your father could have done.
They would have captured him and the Darksword and all would have been at an
end. At least now there is hope.”

But Eliza was not comforted.

Mosiah was talking, reliving the
event, as if trying to figure out what had gone wrong. “I
knew
he had
gone after the Darksword! When he came back almost immediately without it, what
was I to think?”

“You thought he was deliberately
keeping it hidden, refusing to use it even in his own defense,” Scylla said.

“Yes!” Mosiah was frustrated,
angry. “I revealed myself to him. He recognized me and he didn’t seem all that
surprised to see me. We didn’t have much time. I could hear the
D’karn-darah
coming. I asked him to give me the Darksword.
Til take it
away!’
I promised him. ‘I’ll keep it safe!’ “

“How could you?” Scylla asked. “Its
null-magic would have destroyed the Corridors.”

“We had designed a special sheath
for it,” Mosiah said. “Once the Darksword was inside this sheath, we could have
transported it easily. Joram refused, of course. He wouldn’t give me the sword.
I thought ... I thought he was being stubborn, as usual. I didn’t know that he
couldn’t
give me the sword. I didn’t know then that he knew or guessed who had taken
it.”

Mosiah raised his head, looked at
Eliza.
“If he had trusted me.
If he had told me the
truth—I know. Why should he? It was obvious at that point that I’d been spying
on him.

“After that, there’s not much to
tell. Within moments
three
D’karn-darah
entered
the bedroom. We could hear more inside the other parts of the house. Then
another came to us, dragging Father Saryon. He was all right,” Mosiah reassured
me, and he smiled slightly. “He is a tough one, Reuven. The first thing the
good father said when he saw us was, ‘Don’t give it to them, Joram!’

“The
D’karn-darah
demanded
the Darksword. Joram refused. They told him to give them the sword or he would
see those he loved suffer. They had seized hold of Gwendolyn. What was Joram to
do? He couldn’t give them the sword even if he had wanted to, because he didn’t
have it.

“ ‘Take
me.’ He tried to bargain with
them. ‘Let my wife and Father Saryon go. Take me and I’ll tell you where the
sword is hidden.’

“I doubt if they would have ever
agreed to such a bargain, not when they held all the cards, but we’ll never
know. At that moment a teddy bear, which had been lying on the bed, flew up and
struck the
D’karn-darah
who was holding Gwen captive.”

“Good old Simkin,” Scylla said,
smiling.

“Yes, good old Simkin,” Mosiah
echoed dryly. “The
D’karn-darah
was taken by surprise, as you can well
imagine. The bear struck the Technomancer on the forehead. The blow was not a
hard one, but it rocked her back on her feet. In her astonishment, she let go
of Gwen. The bear continued to pummel the
D’karn-darah,
smacking her on
the face, buffeting her head, and eventually ended by clamping himself over her
nose and mouth. He appeared to be trying to smother her. At that moment
Gwendolyn disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Eliza repeated,
bewildered. “What do you mean—disappeared? Did my mother run away? What
happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Mosiah said,
angry at himself, at his own impotence. “If I did, I would tell you. She
vanished. One moment Gwen was there. The next she was gone. I thought at first
that perhaps some of my people had taken her into the Corridors, but later
investigation revealed that they knew nothing of what happened to her.

“But Joram thought the worst. He
assumed the
D’karn-darah
had taken Gwen. He went wild with rage, flung
himself barehanded at the
D’karn-darah.
He caught them off guard. They
had not been expecting an attack by a stuffed toy,
nor
one of their hostages to disappear. Joram’s lunge carried two of them to the
floor. I took out the fourth.”

Mosiah smiled grimly. “You’ll
find a charred spot on the bedroom floor. By that time, however, more
D’karn-darah
arrived. They subdued Joram . . . and took him away.”