Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [77]
Or defend himself, I thought, recalling how the Technomancers were hunting him.
“And how do we know we can trust you?” Eliza asked.
“I will take your oath,” Mosiah said, “on one condition. I will do all in my power to restore the Darksword to Joram, its creator. But if we fail, then I claim the right to transport the Dark-sword back to my king.”
“If we fail, you will have no king. The Technomancers will see to that,” said Scylla.
Suddenly, astonishingly, she flung her arms around Mosiah and gave him a hug. She was taller than he was by a head and far stronger. Her hug squeezed his shoulders together and caved in his chest. “I like you,” she said. “And I never thought I’d say that to an Enforcer. If you give me the keys, Reuven, I’ll drive the air car around front. We’ll need food and blankets. I have water with me.”
Releasing him, she clapped him on the back and then strode purposefully from the room. I could hear her heavy, booted footsteps all the way down the hall.
As I went to help Eliza with the food and blankets, I looked back and saw Mosiah standing in the center of the empty, decimated room. A gentle breeze from the window stirred his black robes. His hands were clasped before him, he had drawn his hood over his head. I judged, by the tilt of his hooded head, that he still stared far off into that distance which was his alone to view. But now he was searching for someone or something and not finding it, apparently.
“Who the hell are you?” , The words hung like the taint of smoke in the air.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“And then the magic filled me! It was like the Life of everything around me, pouring into me, surging through me. I felt a hundred times more alive!”
DOOM OF THE DARKSWORD
By the time Eliza and I had gathered up bedding and food, Scylla had driven the air car around to the front of the building. We loaded the bedding and the food into the luggage area in the back. That done, we stood looking somewhat bemusedly at the air car, which only seated four—two in the front and two in the back. The Darksword, wrapped in its blanket, lay across the backseat.
“That should go in the rear,” said Mosiah.
“No,” Eliza said swiftly. “I want it where I can see it.”
“Put it on the floor in the backseat,” suggested Scylla.
Eliza grasped hold of the sword, tugged the blanket over it more securely, and laid it across the floor of the backseat. Mosiah took his place in the front, next to Scylla—if Eliza wanted to keep an eye on the sword, I think Mosiah was determined to keep an eye on Scylla. That suited me well, however, leaving me to sit in back with Eliza. She started to climb in beside me.
“Blessed Almin!” she cried suddenly, straightening and turning to look down the hillside. “The sheep! I can’t leave them penned up. I’ll water them and turn them out to pasture. It won’t take a moment. I’ll be right back.”
She was gone, running down the hillside.
“We have to stop her!” Scylla said, starting to climb out of the air car.
“No,” Mosiah countered, his voice harsh. “Let her see for herself. Then maybe she will understand.”
See what? I didn’t like this. Jumping out of the air car, I ran after Eliza and soon caught up with her. My legs were stiff, the muscles starting to tighten after the physical exertion from last night. I gritted my teeth against the soreness as we dashed down the hillside toward the sheep pen.
Even from this distance, I could see something was terribly wrong. I tried to halt Eliza’s wild rush, but she angrily flung off my restraining hand and plunged ahead. I slowed my pace, to ease the burning in my legs. There was no need to hurry, nothing we could do. Nothing anyone could do.
When I arrived, I found Eliza leaning heavily against the stone fence. Her eyes were wide, the lids stretched with horror and disbelief.
The sheep were dead. All of them, slaughtered. Each of them bled from the ears. Pools of blood had formed under each mouth and nose. Eyes stared, clouded over. Each lay where it had fallen, with no sign of a struggle. I recalled