Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [80]
Making certain to keep clear of the entangling vines, I finished my business as quickly as possible. Mosiah stood near me, keeping watch in all directions, and I was glad for his presence. Zipping up my jeans, I started back for the car. Mosiah walked at my side. The storm actually seemed to be abating; the rain was a windswept shower now instead of a torrent. I was looking forward to climbing into the warm interior of the air car when I felt something like wire wrap around my ankle.
The Kij vine! Frantically, I lurched forward, trying to break its hold. Its grip was strong. The tendril pulled my foot out from under me and began dragging me back into the main body of the plant! I gave a strangled cry and dug my fingers into the mud, trying to brace myself.
Needle-sharp thorns pierced the flesh of my leg, sliding easily through my blue jeans and heavy socks. The pain was excruciating.
At my cry, Mosiah sprang to help me. Scylla had seen me fall and was opening the car door.
“What is it?” she shouted. “What’s happening?”
“Stay inside!” Mosiah yelled back. “Turn the air car around! Shine the lights on us! Kij vines! They’re all over!”
He stomped on something with his foot. I was being dragged slowly along the rain-soaked ground, my ringers scrabbling to gain purchase, digging deep trenches in the mud. The pain was intense—the jabbing sensation of a thorn probing for a vein, and then came the sickening ache of the blood being sucked out.
Mosiah stood above me, peering into the darkness. He spoke a word and pointed with his finger. There was a flash of light, a sizzle, and a snap.
The vine released me.
I crawled forward, only to feel other tendrils grab hold of me. Snaking out of the darkness from all directions, they wound around my wrists and my feet. One curled around the calf of my leg.
The air car had turned. By the car’s headlights, I could see the raindrops glistening off the heart-shaped leaves of the deadly Kij vines, and shining on the terrible, sharp thorns.
“Damn!” Mosiah swore, and glared in frustration at the vine. He turned and ran back to the air car.
I thought—I don’t know why—that he had abandoned me. Panic welled up inside me, bringing with it a surge of adrenaline. I will free myself! I determined. I tried not to give way to fear, tried to remain calm and think clearly. With all the strength I possessed and a great deal I did not, I jerked my wrist and actually succeeded in freeing myself from one of the vines.
But that was only one, and now four more at least had hold of me.
Eliza was out of the car, ignoring Mosiah’s orders.
“The Darksword!” Mosiah was saying. “Hand me the Dark-sword! That’s the only thing that will save him!”
My face was covered with muck and my hair was in my eyes. I continued to fight the vine, but my strength was failing. The pain of the thorns was debilitating. I felt sick and faint.
“To me!” Mosiah yelled. “Give it to me! No! Don’t risk—”
I heard footsteps and the swish of long skirts.
I shook the hair from my eyes. Eliza stood over me, the Dark-sword in her hand.
“Don’t move, Reuven! I don’t want to hit you!”
I forced myself to lie still, though I could feel the vines tightening, the thorns drinking deep.
The car lights illuminated her from behind, forming a halo around her dark hair, an aura around her body. The light did not touch the Darksword. Either that or it absorbed the light into itself. Eliza raised the sword and slashed down with it. I heard it slice through the vines, but to my pain-dulled mind, she was fighting