Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [130]
“Do not look into the eyes!” Mosiah cautioned loudly, loud enough for Saryon to hear.
The dragon spread its wings. I could hear the rustle and the creaking of its tendons, and thousands of tiny, sparkling deadly lights appeared in the cavern’s darkness.
The dragon spoke, the voice vibrated with fury, and I breathed easier.
“You are the master,” it said.
“I am,” Saryon replied, his own voice firm. “You will do as I command.”
“I do so because I am constrained to do so,” the dragon answered. “Take care that you do not lose your hold over me. What is it you want?”
“In your lair is an object which we greatly value. We want to retrieve it safely and take it away with us. After that, we will trouble you no more.”
“I know of that object,” said the dragon. “It is a sword of light. It hurts my eyes, destroys my rest. Take it and be gone.”
“A sword of light?” Eliza whispered wonderingly.
“Eliza,” Saryon called to her, without turning his gaze away from the dragon. “Come and take the Darksword.”
“Go with her, Reuven,” said Mosiah.
I could not have stayed behind. We walked forward, Eliza and I, into the dragon’s lair. The light of the eyes focused on us, flared around us.
Though spellbound and constrained not to harm us, the dragon was tempting us to lift our gaze and meet its eyes, hoping we would fall victim to the madness. The feeling was in my heart that it would almost be worth the madness in exchange for a single glimpse of a creature of such wondrous, cruel beauty.
To banish the temptation, I kept my gaze on Eliza. She looked to the rock cairn that covered the Darksword.
“Make haste, my children,” urged Saryon quietly.
Was he at last recalling that other time? The time in which we were his children? I hoped he was. Though it had ended in tragedy, I wanted him to know the love I bore him flowed from that time, as well as my own. He was my father.
Reaching the rock cairn, Eliza and I began to take it apart. We worked as swiftly as we could, lifting the rocks and tossing them aside. At last, the Darksword came into view. It did not shine, as I had almost expected from the dragon’s words. It did not reflect the moonlight of the dragon’s eyes. It seemed, instead, to reflect the dragon’s darkness. Eliza took hold of the Darksword by the handle and raised it up.
“Cover it!” the dragon shrieked, and the light from its eyes was hooded, plunging us into darkness.
Hastily, Eliza wrapped the Darksword in its blanket, which had been lying near it.
“Take it and get out!” The dragon writhed and thrashed, as if it was in the most terrible pain.
“This way!” Saryon called, his voice alone guiding us, for we could not see.
Clasping hands, finding comfort in each other’s touch, Eliza and I advanced cautiously toward his voice. We tried to hurry, but we were afraid of falling over the rocks, bones, and other debris scattered around. The journey across the dragon’s lair, with the great beast roaring and lashing out so near us, was terrifying. Saryon’s voice, calm and steady, guided us through the nightmare.
“Here, I am here!” Saryon cried, and his hands found us in the darkness, his arms gathered us to him. “My children!” His embrace on us tightened and I knew then that he had seen into that alternate time. “My children!” he repeated.
My heart swelled with love for him, love that enhanced the love I felt for Eliza, expanded that love until it filled me completely, admitted no room for fear. I was no longer afraid of the darkness or the dragon, the Technomancers, or even the Hch’nyv. The future might be filled with horror. I might never see the sunrise, I might be dead by morning. But this moment, with this blessed feeling warm inside me, would be enough.
Saryon’s grip tightened still further. I felt his body tense.
“Be careful,” he warned softly. “Someone is in here.”
“Father,” came Mosiah’s voice at almost the same moment. “Get out of there! Now!”
The dragon had ceased its pain-filled roar. It lay still