Tylar saw nothing.
She shooed her fingers at the ground. “Pupp, get away from there.”
Tylar glanced to Kathryn, then Gerrod.
Rogger spoke aloud what they all suddenly understood. “She can see it! Just like her dog creature.”
“ ‘A sword of shadow and light,’ ” Gerrod said. “No wonder it’s never been seen or found.”
“Rivenscryr,” Tylar gasped. “The Godsword.”
Dart frowned at all their reactions. They had to be mistaken. The sword appeared be ordinary dull bronze, even its unadorned hilt. Surely this was no dire weapon to shatter worlds.
But all eyes were upon her. From their expressions, they failed to see what was evident to her. She watched Pupp again nose up to the embedded sword. His bronze form was almost a match to the blade and hilt, except his form glowed with a molten sheen. The sword appeared cold and somehow ancient.
“Can you describe what you see?” Gerrod asked.
She did, knowing they were mistaken. There must be some blessing or curse placed upon the blade, hiding its form, but it could not possibly be the dreaded Godsword. “… and it’s shoved into the dirt, almost to the hilt. A handspan of blade still shows.” She held out her hand, fingers splayed to indicate.
“Are there any markings?” the master asked.
Dart stepped closer to be sure. Everyone else had backed from the space between the pillars. She leaned down. One hand reached out.
“No!” a firm voice commanded.
She yanked her arm back. The order had come from Eylan. Few words had ever been spoken by the Wyr- mistress, but these now had the force of familiar command. She was used to being obeyed.
“She mustn’t touch the Godsword,” Eylan said, her voice dropping slightly upon the others’ sudden attention.
“Why’s that?” Rogger asked.
Eylan’s eyes, black already, darkened further. She turned to Tylar. “The sword is meant only for the god- bearer.”
Tylar frowned. “Me?”
Rogger harrumphed. “It’s a better name than god slayer.”
“What do you know that you’ve not told us?” Tylar asked.
The Wyr-mistress glanced from Dart to Tylar. “We were not sure. When you came to the Wyr, you came with Grace. You came alone. But in the tower, I bore witness to the god inside you. And in the same tower, you found your sheath.”
“I found my what?”
The Wyr-mistress again glanced down to Dart. “She is the sheath.” Eylan faced Tylar again. “And you are the sword.”
Tylar pinched his brows.
Gerrod spoke up. “I believe Wyr-mistress Eylan is referring to Dart’s blood. As the child of two gods, she alone has the ability to whet the sword from shadow to substance. But apparently, you are the one meant to wield the sword.”
“According to whom?” Castellan Vail asked.
Again attention focused to Eylan. Still, Dart’s breathing remained labored. She glanced to Laurelle. Her friend had her arms crossed tightly about her chest. Yaellin guarded over her. Dart dropped back to them, fearing what would be spoken next.
“Who spoke of this sheath and sword?” Tylar asked.
Eylan met his gaze, but nodded toward Dart. “This one’s mother.”
“What?” Dart gasped.
Yaellin bent down to her. “It’s all right, Dart,” he whispered.
She leaned in to him. It was all too much for her. For so many years, she had wondered about her mother and father, fantasized about them, been plagued with questions. But the truth was worse than never knowing. Yaellin held her and wrapped her up in shadow, offering what comfort he could.
Gerrod shifted toward the Wyr-mistress, understanding glowing in his eyes. “It was you who carried the message to Tashijan from the hinterland god, the child’s mother. You were the emissary who told Ser Henri about the child and urged her rescue.”
Eylan did not disagree.
“But there was more that was never told to Ser Henri,” Gerrod said. “Wasn’t there?”
A slow nod answered him. “The god and mother raved. Such creatures are sometimes so flamed by Grace that all moorings to the present are burned away. They travel to the past… and to places yet to come. The god- mother saw the great war of the ancient past… and an even greater war to come to Myrillia.” Eylan stared hard at Tylar. “And they were the same war.”
“What does that mean?” Castellan Vail asked.
It was Gerrod who answered. “Another War of the Gods.”
Eylan turned to the armored master. “No, not another war… the same war. The old enmities still exist, shoved deep into the naether. But they will rise again to bring their ancient war to our soil.”
Tylar took a deep breath. “And it’s already begun.” He touched the black mark on his bare chest.
Dart feared his fingers would fall through that stirring void. Something drew to the surface as his fingers neared. But the man seemed ignorant of it. His fingers found only his own flesh. Dart glanced from Pupp, to the sword, to the stirring darkness centered on Tylar’s chest. They were all the same. Barely connected to this world.
Only she could see them.
Eylan’s words repeated in her head. She is the sheath. And you are the sword. A shiver passed through Dart, rising from places she didn’t know existed inside her.
“Why was all this not told to Ser Henri?” Castellan Vail asked.
“The god-mother forbade it. She saw strings of continuity and lines of force. ‘I am a spider,’ she told me, ‘in a web without end.’ Only certain strings could be enlightened. The rest needed to remain dark. Only the Wyr knew the truth. Because the god-bearer would come to us. And as Tashijan protected the sheath, I must protect the sword.”
“And all that about needing his seed?” Rogger asked. “That was all a ruse?”
Eylan arched a brow at the thief. “No. We will still have his seed. We of the Wyr have our own goals that are independent of great wars. In this one matter here, our thread and the gods’ thread cross.”
“In other words,” Rogger said, “why not take advantage of the situation?”
Eylan shrugged.
Rogger pursed his lips and tugged his beard. “I can respect that.”
Gerrod, though, was not finished with Eylan. “What else did Dart’s mother see in the future? What will happen in this war?”
Eylan shook her head, looking concerned for the first time. “According to the god-mother, too many lines intersected at this moment. ‘A dark tangle of webs, shrouded in mists.’ Details beyond the joining of the sword and sheath are unknown.”
“There’s no hint about what we must do?” Tylar asked. “With Rivenscryr? With ourselves?”
Eylan remained silent for a long breath. Her voice dropped from its stolid demeanor to softer, sadder tones. “The Wyr don’t believe in the preordained. Prophecy is a path walked by fools.”
“Yet here we all are,” Gerrod said. “The sword and the sheath.”
“Yes, but were the words of the god ordained or only supposed? She knew the Godsword still existed. She knew her child bore the blood to wield it. She knew the old enemies still lurked in the naether. Is it so much to suppose a return to war? Is such a thing prophecy?” Eylan’s eyes drifted to Dart. “The Wyr have their own idea why the child was sent into the settled lands.”
“And what idea is that?” Tylar asked.
Eylan kept her gaze fixed to Dart. “We think she was sent here to start the war, a flame set to a very long wick.”
Dart fell back from her words. But Yaellin still held her.
