Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [110]
“I would be obliged if you would refresh that memory, Father,” Mosiah said. “Just so that I know what to expect.”
“Well . . .” Father Saryon was nonplussed. “There isn’t much to tell, I suppose. Or rather, there is a lot to tell but we don’t have time for most of it. How those calling themselves the Dark Cultists arrived from Earth. A man named Kevon Smythe drove King Garald from power, almost succeeded in having him assassinated, but Garald was warned in time and escaped.
“How you and King Garald lived the lives of outlaws in the wilderness. You don’t remember that?” Saryon gazed anxiously at Mosiah, who merely smiled and remained silent.
“And then Simkin returned from Earth—”
“Ah,” said Mosiah, and then he again fell silent.
“Simkin returned. He told Garald how the Well of Life had not been destroyed. It had been merely capped—”
At this, which was exactly the theory we had postulated, I made a sign to Mosiah, who made me a sign to keep silent.
“The Dark Cultists had a secret source, however. They were bleeding off the magical Life, using it for themselves. In a daring raid, you, Mosiah, Garald, and his friend James Boris broke open the Well and released the magic back into the world. We were then able to fight Smythe and the Dark Cultists. Smythe fled back to Earth.
“Garald returned to the rulership of Sharakan and also that of Merilon. I traveled to Sharakan to congratulate him and to present to him my wards.” Saryon looked fondly at Eliza and me. “King Garald was struck by Eliza’s beauty and was deeply touched to hear that she was Joram’s daughter. He granted her the right to claim the throne of Merilon, as Joram’s heir.
“Garald made Eliza Queen of Merilon. Reuven traveled to the Font, to enter into his training as a catalyst. Merilon and Sharakan became allies. Cardinal Radisovik was made Bishop, following the death of Vanya. The Bishop was kind enough to appoint me as Eliza’s adviser until she came of age.” Saryon smiled, shook his head. “I considered myself most unsuited to the task, but Radisovik turned all my noes into yes before I truly knew what was happening. Besides, Eliza needed very little advice.”
Eliza reached out, pressed Saryon’s hand gratefully.
“Times are difficult,” Saryon said, sighing. “Magic has been restored, but it is weak. Though the barrier around Thimhallan has been rebuilt, we know that magic is seeping out of it and there doesn’t appear to be anything we can do to stop it. Undoubtedly, Smythe and his Dark Cultists are responsible.
“We are forced to live on a combination of sorcery and steel. The Duuk-tsarith have grown ever more powerful, since they are capable of absorbing more Life than anyone else in the world. Emperor Garald trusts them, but I—” Saryon halted, somewhat confused.
“I understand, Father,” Mosiah said quietly. “Now that you talk, much of my own memory returns. You have good reason not to trust many among the Duuk-tsarith.”
“I trust you, Mosiah,” Saryon said. “And that is what is important. Knights”—he smiled at Scylla—”now guard the realm. Though at first Garald was viewed as a savior, he has come to be reviled. Smythe, in exile on Earth, has his followers upon Thimhallan. They are managing to foment unrest among the lower classes, foretelling the coming of the end of the world unless Smythe is permitted to return to save it.
“You heard about the warning which came to Bishop Radisovik?”
We nodded in silence.
“The Darksword must be returned to the maker of the world. That was the message, though we are not certain what it means. The maker of the world was Merlyn, but he’s been dead and gone these many years . . .”
Not according to Simkin! I thought suddenly and, pondering this, I lost, for a moment, the thread of wha.t Saryon was saying.
“. . . recovered by Joram’s descendant. Emperor Garald came to me in person”—Saryon flushed, embarrassed—”to ask for the Darksword. I agreed, but only if I were permitted to seek it in secret and, in secret, give it directly into the hands of Eliza, Joram’s daughter. The Emperor gave me his word of honor that we would not