Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [112]
I, too, embraced him in the name of father. It was right, eminently right.
He asked the Almin’s blessing on us all and he alone entered the chamber.
We waited in the tunnel, ears strained to hear the slightest sound. I was so tense, I no longer noticed the stench.
“Dragon of the Night,” came Saryon’s voice from the darkness. “You know me. You know who I am.”
Scraping sounds, as of a massive head sliding along the rock floor, a gigantic body shifting position. And then a pale, cold white light lit the chamber.
We could see Saryon, a stark black silhouette against that white light. We could not see the dragon, for its head was far, far above Saryon, out of our view. I remembered that I was not to look directly into the dragon’s eyes.
We held our breath for the answer, which might be instant death. Eliza and I clasped each other by the hand.
“I know you,” said the Dragon of Night, hating him. “Why have you come to disturb my rest?”
We breathed again. The charm had held! Impulsively, Eliza hugged me. I put my arm around her.
Mosiah flashed us a stern, reproving glance. Neither he nor Scylla had lowered their guard. She stood with the torch held high in one hand, her sword in the other. He had his hands clenched, magic spells in his mind and on his lips. He reminded us silently that there was still great danger.
Accepting the rebuke, Eliza and I drew apart, yet our hands again found each other’s in the darkness.
“I come to relieve you of your burden,” Saryon said. “And to free you of the charm. This young woman is Joram’s heir.”
“I am here,” Eliza called.
Releasing my hand, she walked into the chamber. Scylla and I both would have followed, but Mosiah held out his arms, blocking the way.
“Neither of you were mentioned in the charming!” he said swiftly. “You could break it!”
His caution was sensible. He certainly knew more about charms and spells than I did. I was forced to stay behind, though it took every ounce of self-control I possessed to remain there in the tunnel and watch Eliza walk away from me, walk into deadly peril.
Scylla was pale, her eyes dark and huge. She, too, understood the wisdom of Mosiah’s words, yet she was in agony at the thought of her charge going where her knight could not follow. Sweat beaded on the knight’s brow. She bit her nether lip.
We could do nothing but wait.
Eliza and Saryon stood in silhouette before the dragon, bathed in that pale, white light, which did not illuminate, but turned all it touched a ghostly gray.
“She is Dead,” said the dragon. And then, in a terrible voice, the dragon repeated the Prophecy. “ ‘There will be born to the Royal House one who is dead yet will live, who will die again and live again. And when he returns, he will hold in his hand the destruction of the world.’ “
“That was spoken of my father,” said Eliza, proudly, calmly.
“You are indeed what you claim. Take that which is yours. Remove it from my lair. It has troubled my sleep these past twenty years.”
The two walked to a large mound of rocks, which stood just to the left of our line of sight. With Eliza’s help, Saryon began to shift the rocks, working swiftly. Neither wanted to stay in there any longer than they had to. The three of us, waiting for them, dared not stir. Though we could not see the dragon, we knew that it was aware of our presence. Its hatred and loathing were almost palpable. It longed to slaughter us, not for food, but for revenge. The charm held it back, but just barely.
And then the work was finished. Saryon and Eliza stood above the cairn. She saw for the first time her father’s creation. Repulsed, her courage failed her. Then, jaw tightening, she reached down and picked up the Darksword.
Without warning, black-robed figures materialized out of the darkness. Five surrounded us. More appeared in the dragon’s lair, their black robes and hoods standing out in stark contrast to the white light.
“Keep still!” Mosiah warned softly, urgently. “Go quickly before it is too late! You will destroy us all!”
“Silence, traitor.”
One of the Duuk-tsarith