Legacy Of The Darksword Part 26

Frightened and hurting, I tried to end it, tried to s.n.a.t.c.h my hand from Mosiah's arm, but he refused to let me go. The magic leapt between us in a blue arc that twined around his arm and mine.

The flame of the arc crackled out. I was empty, the fire replaced by a sensation of cold that left me numb and shaking. I sank to my knees, my strength sapped.

Eliza knelt and put her arm around me.

"Reuven, are you all right?"

I nodded, though I felt sick and dizzy.

"Blessed Almin," said Scylla, awed. "I've never seen anything like that!"

"I doubt you ever will again," said Mosiah, ma.s.saging his arm. "That was the Life transference of a catalyst to a warlock. We thought such transferences had died with the magic, for it has not been successfully performed since the war ended. Strange," he murmured to himself. "Very strange."

"Not so strange if the magic hasn't died," Scylla observed.

Simkin yawned. "While you all are playing at being magi, I'm off to reconnoiter. Wait for me here. Do you know, I'm quite enjoying this!"

"Wait-d.a.m.n!"

Mosiah clutched empty air. Simkin had vanished.

"Now what do we do?" I signed.

"Hand ourselves over to the Technomancers," Mosiah said bitterly. "We might as well."

"Nonsense," Eliza said crisply. "We'll wait here for him to return. He will will return. I have faith in Ted-Simkin." return. I have faith in Ted-Simkin."

"So did your father," Mosiah said grimly. He glanced around, stiffened. "We're missing someone else."

We could see a short distance down the tunnel by the light reflecting off the rocks. Scylla was nowhere in sight.

"Back!" Mosiah urged, and he started herding Eliza and me down the tunnel. "Back the way we came! We can hold out-"

"Psst! Over here!" came a piercing whisper.

A hand waved at us from the darkness.

An arm attached to the hand appeared and Scylla emerged from the shadows. "I've found another chamber. We can hide in here and keep watch!"

Eliza gave Mosiah a reproachful glance and went to join Scylla. I started after her. Mosiah clamped hold of my arm.

"Do you remember another chamber in the cave the last time we were inside it?"

I shook my head. "But it was dark and confused."

"Wasn't it," Mosiah said coolly.

The chamber Scylla had found was located directly across the tunnel from where we had been standing. It provided a clear view of a small cavern. Two Technomancers, in their silver masks and robes, stood guard outside the entrance.

Long minutes pa.s.sed. Nothing happened, and the thought occurred to me that Simkin had been right about one thing, at least. The Technomancers must have felt their prisoners were secure and that we were far away. Either that or the prisoners were not in there at all. I was wondering if Simkin had led us on a wild-goose chase when one of the Technomancers spoke.

"Time to check on them," he said.

The other nodded and turned on his heel, took a step, and fell headlong, sprawling on the cavern floor.

"Son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h!" the man swore as he picked himself up.

"What the h.e.l.l happened to you?" his companion asked, turning to stare.

"I fell over a rock! That rock!" The Technomancer glared and pointed.

"Well, watch where you're going next time."

The Technomancer stared balefully at the rock. "I'll swear, that wasn't there before."

"You're just clumsy," said the other Technomancer, shrugging.

"No, I'm serious. I've been in and out of this blasted prison cell thirty times today and I'll swear that rock wasn't there!" The Technomancer picked it up. "I'll be d.a.m.ned!" he said, amazed. "This rock has . . . eyes!"

Those of us hunkered down in the chamber exchanged glances. None of us said the word, but we were all thinking it.

Simkin.

"What the devil are you two doing? Standing there discussing a rock," came another voice. I recognized it and so did Mosiah.

"Smythe!" he whispered.

"If you've taken up geology," Smythe continued, "do it on your time. Not mine."

The two Technomancers snapped to attention. Smythe appeared, coming from the direction of the cavern entrance. He was not wearing the business suit in which I'd last seen him, but was dressed in the robes, trimmed in gold, that he'd worn in the hologram. His face was in the light and it was a good thing I had recognized him from his voice. I might not have done so otherwise. The face that had been so handsome and charming was grim and contorted with suppressed rage. Four bodyguards in silver trooped after him.

"But, sir, look at this rock-"

"Is it darkstone?" Smythe demanded impatiently.

"No, sir, it doesn't appear to be. Ordinary limestone, maybe. But it-"

"Darkstone is the only rock in which I'm interested. Toss it in the river."

The Technomancer looked again at the rock and seemed to want to argue. A glance at Smythe's scowling face, and the Technomancer gave a heave, flung the rock into the dark, swiftly flowing water.

I could swear that I heard a faint indignant shriek as the rock sailed through the air. It hit the water with a splash and sank . . . like a rock.

"How are the prisoners?" Smythe asked. "Any change?"

"That Joram's growing worse, sir. He won't be with us long if he doesn't get help."

Eliza, beside me, made a choked sound. "Hus.h.!.+" Scylla breathed.

Mosiah cast them both a warning glance. I found Eliza's hand. Her flesh was chill to the touch. Her fingers tightened convulsively around mine.

"I'm going to talk to Joram," Smythe was saying. "If he's that bad off, he may be willing to cooperate. Two of you come with me. The rest of you wait outside."

Smythe entered the chamber where the prisoners were being held. Two of his guards followed after him. The others took up positions out in the corridor.

There was nothing we could do but wait. Not only would we endanger ourselves if we tried to fight such overwhelming numbers, we would place the prisoners' lives in jeopardy. There was every possibility the Technomancers would kill their prisoners rather than let them be rescued.

We hid in the darkness, straining to hear. The first voice we heard was Father Saryon's. His tone was strong and indignant, which meant that he was well. I closed my eyes and breathed a prayer to the Almin in thankfulness.

"Joram is very ill, as you can see, Mr. Smythe. My friend needs medical attention immediately. I insist that you take him to the outpost. They have a medical facility there-"

"Certainly," said Smythe, and his voice was smooth and eager to please. "We will provide him with the antidote to the poison- as soon as he tells me where to find the Darksword."

"Poison?" Saryon was horrified. "You poisoned him?"

"A slow-acting variety. We use the same to cause the deaths of the organisms in our perpetual generators. Death comes very slowly and very painfully, I am told. Now, my friend. Where is the Darksword? Tell us that, and you will feel much better.".

"He does not know!" Saryon said angrily.

"Ah, but I think he does," said Smythe. "He gave it to his daughter to hide. We saw her in possession of the sword, so you needn't trouble to lie about it. We are on her trail-"

"If you hurt her . . ." The voice was weak, but it was definitely Joram's.

We heard scuffling sounds and a stifled cry.

Eliza turned her head into my shoulder. I held her tightly and the rage I felt toward Smythe at that moment appalled me. I had always thought of myself as a pacifist. Now I knew I had it in me to kill.

"Don't! Leave him alone!" Saryon cried, and we heard a rustling sound, as if he threw himself protectively in front of Joram. "He is weak and ill."

"He will be far more ill if he does not cooperate."

"He can be of no use to you dead!"

"He isn't going to die. At least not yet. As you say, I have need of him. Give him the stimulant. There. That will keep him alive a little longer. He won't feel very good, but he'll live, which is more than I can say for you, Father Saryon. You are of no use to me whatsoever. I have catalysts of my own, prepared to give the Darksword Life, once it is recovered.

"Listen to me, Joram. You have five minutes to reconsider your stubborn refusal to tell me where your daughter is hiding. If you do not, Father Saryon will be flayed alive, a particularly nasty way to die. Bind his feet and his hands."

We four stared, horrified, at each other. We had five minutes to act, five minutes to rescue the hostages, or Father Saryon would most certainly be tortured and murdered. There were six guards, plus Kevon Smythe, and only four of us.

"Scylla, you have your gun," Mosiah began, speaking in a tense whisper. "You-"

"Gun," she said. "I don't have a gun."

Mosiah glared at her. "You don't carry a gun! What kind of agent are you?"

"A smart one," Scylla returned. "From what I've seen, carrying a gun is an open invitation for someone to shoot you."

Mosiah was grim. "We have no choice, I guess. We have to take on all six of the D'karn-darah D'karn-darah-"

"Make that seven," Scylla said.

Another silver-robed Technomancer had apparently entered the cavern. I say "apparently" because I had been watching the cavern entrance and I had not seen anyone come inside. The new arrival glided up behind the two guards waiting at the entrance. Reaching out a silver-gloved hand, the D'karn-darah D'karn-darah tapped one of them on the shoulder. tapped one of them on the shoulder.

It was the Technomancer who had thrown the rock in the river. He jumped, turned. His robes flowed around him like liquid mercury.

"What the devil-who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want? And don't come sneaking up on someone like that. It's bad enough being on this blasted planet, with rocks that have eyes and G.o.d knows what else! What do you want?" he repeated nervously.

"A message from HQ for the master."

"He's inside the prison cell."

"It's urgent," said the D'karn-darah. D'karn-darah.

"I'll go tell him," volunteered the other Technomancer.

"Wait," said the first. His tone was suspicious. "Why didn't they just send the message the usual way-using the seerstones?"

"None of your seerstones are working. Try them."

The first Technomancer put his wrist to his ear. The second did the same. The second looked at the first, who shrugged and jerked his head toward the prison cell. The Technomancer left to report.

Smythe emerged. His choleric face was a fierce red, his brows drawn tight in a vicious scowl.

"What do you mean the seerstones aren't working?" he demanded.

"We don't know, sir," returned the newly arrived Technomancer. "Perhaps it's this cave, blocking the signal. I have an urgent message for you, sir."

"Deliver it!" Smythe snapped.

The silver-hooded head revolved, glanced in the direction of the other D'karn-darah. D'karn-darah. "It is for you alone, Master. We should speak in private. It is most urgent, sir." "It is for you alone, Master. We should speak in private. It is most urgent, sir."

Smythe looked back in frustration toward the prison. His unhealthy choler increased. "Of all the d.a.m.n luck. I just about had, him broken! This better be good!" He turned to one of the guards. "Remind the good father that he has three minutes left. Three minutes."

"Come over here, Master," said the messenger, and he gestured-alarmingly-in the direction of our small hidden cavern.

The two walked toward us. The silver robes of the D'karn-darah D'karn-darah swished about his ankles, revealing his silver-slippered feet, and I suddenly noticed that this Technomancer was wearing orange socks. swished about his ankles, revealing his silver-slippered feet, and I suddenly noticed that this Technomancer was wearing orange socks.

"Simkin!" Mosiah breathed into my ear.

Beyond all reason, it was, it had to be Simkin, disguised as a Technomancer and leading Kevon Smythe straight toward our hiding place.

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Mosiah whispered. "If it's the last thing I do, I'll-"

"Shhh!" Scylla hushed him.

Eliza gripped my hand tightly. We didn't dare move, for fear he'd hear us. We went completely immobile in the darkness, every breath seeming to whistle loud as a cyclone, our heartbeats booming like thunder. Mosiah's body tensed. He was readying his magic for one gigantic, lethal burst.

Desperate, frantic plans rushed through my mind, none of them making any sense, or offering any hope.