Legacy of the Darksword (27 page)

“Watch out!” he shouted, grabbing
hold of my arm. “Kij vines!”

He pointed, and by the lights of
the air car, I could see the deadly vines. I had written about them in my
books, about how the vines wrapped around the limbs of the unwary, dug their
thorns into the flesh, and sucked the blood of their victims, blood upon which
the plants thrived. I had, of course, never seen one. I could have gone much
longer without the pleasure. The heart-shaped leaves shone black in the night,
glistening with rain, the thorns small and sharp. The plant appeared quite
healthy, with gigantic tendrils curling over each other, layer upon layer.

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 the lethal
plant with the night itself.

Suddenly I was free. The plant
gave up its hold; the tendrils went limp and lifeless as a hand that has been
cut off at the wrist.

Mosiah and Scylla were there to
help me to my feet. I wiped the muck from my face and, with their help,
stumbled to the air car. Eliza came after us, holding the Darksword ready in
her hand, but the Kij vine had apparently given up the attack. Looking back on
it, I saw its leaves withered and curling wherever the Darksword had touched
it.

They assisted me to the car.
Fortunately, the rain had all but ceased now.

“Will he be all right?” Eliza
hovered over me. Her obvious concern eased me like a soothing balm.

“The pain fades quickly,” Mosiah
said. “And the thorns are not poisonous. I know from experience.”

“You were always stumbling into
them, as I recall,” offered Teddy from the floor. He sounded peevish. “I warned
you against them, time and again—”

“You did not. You said they were
edible,” Mosiah recalled with a half smile.

“Well, I knew one of us was,”
Teddy muttered, then raised his voice in ire. “Is it absolutely necessary for
the lot of you to drip all over me?”

“I’d feed
you
to the Kij
vines,” said Mosiah, reaching inside to pick up Teddy, “but even they must have
some
taste.” He started to return the bear to the seat, but instead held
him, stared at him. “I wonder . . .”

“Put me down!” Teddy complained. “You’re
pinching me!”

Mosiah plunked the stuffed bear
on the seat beside me.

“How are you feeling?” Scylla
asked.

“Not well,” said Teddy, groaning.

“I was talking to Reuven,” Scylla
said severely. She rolled up my pants leg and began examining my injuries.

I nodded, to indicate I was
better. The pain was fading, as Mosiah had predicted. The horror was not. I
could still feel those tendrils tightening around my legs. I shivered from cold
and reaction to the ordeal.

“You should change out of those
wet clothes,” Eliza said.

“Not here,” Mosiah stated. “Not
now.”

“For once, I agree with the
wizard,” Scylla said. “Get back in the car, all of you. I’ll turn the heat on.
Reuven, take off what clothes you can. Eliza, cover him with as many blankets
as we have. You’ll find a first-aid kit back there. Use the ointment on those
wounds.”

Eliza returned the Darksword to
its place on the floor, sliding it under the blanket, out of sight. She said no
word about what she’d done to save me, and refused to look at me when I tried
to sign my thanks. Instead, she searched for and discovered the first-aid kit,
then busied herself with the blankets, pulling them out of the back
compartment.

The air car rose up from that
ill-fated place and slid smoothly forward, making better time now that the
storm had abated. A watery sun peered down at us, blinking, as the clouds
scudded over its weak eye.

“Mid-afternoon,” Mosiah said,
gazing at the sky.

“As dark as it was, I thought it
was night,” Eliza said.

She began treating my cuts and
wounds with the ointment. Embarrassed at this attention, I had endeavored to
take the tube from her, but she refused to let me. “Lie back and rest,” she
ordered, and helped me peel off my sodden woolen sweater.

She dabbed ointment on the thorn
wounds, which were red and fiery, with dark blood oozing from them. When Eliza
spread the salve over them, the redness vanished, the bleeding stopped,
the
pain eased and was soon completely gone. Eliza’s eyes
widened at the change.

“This is wonderful,” she said,
looking at the small tube. “We have medical supplies sent to us by the Earth
Forces, but nothing like this!”

“Standard government issue,” said
Scylla, with a shrug.

Mosiah twisted around in his
seat, studied the almost healed wounds on my arms and legs. He looked at
Scylla.

“What government issues miracles
these days?” he asked.

She glanced at him and grinned. “And
where did
you
find that thunderbolt you launched, Enforcer? Just happen
to have one up your sleeve? I thought you said your magic was depleted. No
Life.” She shook her head in mock sorrow, and continued on. “And
you asking
for the Darksword.
Quick
thinking.
Yet what would you have done with it, I wonder?”

“Used it to free Reuven,” Mosiah
replied. “Then I would have changed myself into a bat and flown away with it,
of course. Or did you think I’d take it and try to run with it, through this
godforsaken wilderness, and you with an air car to catch me!”

He sat hunched and huddled in his
robes, which were as wet as my clothes. He held his shoulders rigid, to keep
from revealing that he was shivering.

“I thought the sword too heavy
for Eliza to wield,” he added coldly. “I see now that I was wrong.”

Scylla made no reply, but from
the faint flush I could see rising up the back of her neck, I believe that she
was ashamed of having made the accusation. He had given his word to help us and
we had no reason to doubt him. If he had a small reserve of Life left to
him, that
was only sensible. No wizard depleted himself
utterly, if he could help it. He had voluntarily gone out into the drenching
rainstorm to guard me, and if he hadn’t warned me of the Kij vines, I might
well have floundered in among them so deeply that not even the Darksword could
have saved me.

Eliza offered him a blanket,
which he refused with a curt shake of his head. She said nothing; her face was
calm and smooth. She still did not trust him and she made no apology for it.
She tucked the blanket around me, made certain I was comfortable. She repacked
the first-aid kit,
then
asked if there was anything
else she could do for me. She offered me the electronic notepad, in case I
wanted to write anything.

I indicated no, smiling, to show
her that I was much better. And, indeed, I was. The horror was starting to
recede. The air car was warming up rapidly. My shivering ceased, the pain was
gone. The ointment deserved some credit, undoubtedly, but no salve can heal the
terrors of the soul. Eliza’s touch had been the true cure.

Some emotions need no words.
Eliza saw in my eyes what I could not speak. A slight flush mantled her cheeks
and she looked
away from me, to the notepad in her hand. The pad
provided her an excuse to change the subject.

“I don’t want to disturb you,
Reuven, if you’re tired—”

I shook my head. She could never
disturb me, nor could I ever be too tired to do anything she might ask of me.

“I would like to learn sign
language,” she said, almost shyly. “Would you mind teaching me?”

Would I mind! I knew she was
doing this only out of kindness, to take my mind off the terrible experience I
had suffered. I agreed, of course, hoping it might take her mind off her own
horrors. She moved closer to me. I began by teaching her the alphabet, spelling
out her name. She understood immediately. She was a quick student, and within a
very short time she had the entire alphabet and could run through it, hand and
fingers flashing.

The air car soared over
rain-soaked grasslands, lifted and climbed up over treetops. We were traveling
very fast now, though I wondered if our speed would make up for the time we had
lost in the storm. Mosiah maintained his cool, offended silence.

The sun continued to shine,
though it was often hidden by racing clouds. Scylla turned down the heat in the
air car, which— with the wet clothes—was beginning to resemble a sauna.

“Those Kij vines,” she said
abruptly. “They behaved rather oddly, don’t you think?”

Mosiah looked at her, and though
I was busy with Eliza, I saw a glint of interest flicker in his eyes. “Perhaps,”
was all he said
noncommittally.
“What do you mean?”

“They came after Reuven,” Scylla
said. “Did you ever know the vines to be that aggressive? And those vines had
grown tall and thick. Isn’t that unusual?”

Mosiah shrugged. “The
Finhanish
are no longer around to keep them thinned out. The
Sif-Hanar
are
no longer here to control the weather. Of course, left
alone, the Kij vines would thrive.”

“Plants born of magic,” Scylla
mused.
“Created by magic.
One would think that when
the magic in this land was depleted, the plants would lose their source of
sustenance and they would die off.
Not
grow more abundantly.”

“Born of magic?” Eliza
interrupted our lesson to ask. “What do you mean? We grow corn and carrots and
wheat and there’s nothing magic about them.”