Deltora Quest #2: The Lake of Tears (2 page)

L
ief struggled to free himself. “The question was not fair!” he shouted. “You tricked me! How could I know what Thaegan likes to eat?”

“What you know or do not know is not my concern,” said the guardian of the bridge. He raised the sword higher, till its curved blade was level with Lief’s neck.

“No!” cried Lief. “Wait!” At this moment of terror, his one thought was for the Belt of Deltora and the topaz fixed to it. If he did nothing to prevent it, this golden-eyed giant would surely find the Belt after he was dead, take it from his body — and perhaps give it to Thaegan. Then Deltora would be lost to the Shadow Lord forever.

I must throw the Belt over the cliff, he thought desperately. I must make sure that Barda and Jasmine see me do it. Then they will have some chance of finding it again. If only I can delay him until I can do it …

“You are a trickster and a deceiver!” he cried, slipping his hands under his shirt, feeling for the Belt’s fastening. “No wonder you are doomed to guard this bridge until truth and lies are one!”

As he had hoped, the man paused. Anger brightened his golden eyes.

“My suffering was not justly earned,” he spat. “It was for pure spite that Thaegan took my freedom and cursed me to be tied to this piece of earth. If you are so interested in truth and lies, we will play another game.”

Lief’s fingers froze on the Belt. But the flicker of hope that had flared in his heart faded and died with his enemy’s next words.

“We will play a game to decide which way you will die,” said the man. “You may say one thing, and one thing only. If what you say is true, I will strangle you with my bare hands. If what you say is false, I will cut off your head.”

Lief bent his head, pretending to consider, while his fingers secretly struggled with the Belt’s catch. The fastening was stiff, and would not open. His hand pressed against the topaz — so hard-won, so soon to be lost, if he did not hurry.

“I am waiting,” said the guardian of the bridge. “Make your statement.”

True statement, or false? Was it better to be beheaded or strangled? Better to be neither, thought Lief grimly. And then, in a blinding flash, the most wonderful idea came to him.

He looked up boldly at the waiting man. “My head will be cut off,” he said clearly.

The man hesitated.

“Well?” cried Lief. “Did you not hear my statement? Is it true or false?”

But he knew that his enemy would have no answer. For if the statement was true, the man was bound to strangle him, thus making it false. And if the statement was false, the man was bound to cut off his head, thus making it true.

And even as he wondered how in his panic he had managed to think of this, the tall figure before him gave a deep, shuddering sigh. Then Lief’s eyes widened and he cried out in shock. For the man’s flesh had begun rippling, melting — changing shape.

Brown feathers were sprouting from his skin. His legs were shrinking and his feet were spreading, becoming talons. His powerful arms and shoulders were dissolving and reforming themselves into great wings. His curved sword was becoming a fierce, hooked beak.

And in moments the man was gone, and a huge, proud bird with golden eyes stood on the cliff in his place. With a triumphant cry it spread its wings and soared into the air, joining the other birds swooping and gliding on the wind.

It is my doom to guard this bridge until truth and lies are one.

Lief stared, trembling all over. He could hardly believe what had happened. The guardian of the bridge had been a bird, forced by Thaegan’s magic into human form. It had been bound to the earth by her spite as surely as if it had been chained.

And his trick answer had broken Thaegan’s spell. He had thought only of saving his own life, but he had broken Thaegan’s spell. The bird was free at last.

A sound broke through his racing thoughts. He glanced at the bridge and to his horror saw that it was starting to crumble. Without thinking further, he leapt for it, seizing the rope railings with both hands and running, as he had never imagined he could, over the fearful gap.

He could see Barda and Jasmine standing on the edge of the cliff ahead of him, holding out their arms. He could hear their voices shrieking to him. Behind him, planks rattled together as they slipped from their rope ties and plunged to the river far below.

Soon the rope itself would give way. He knew it. Already it was growing slack. The bridge was sagging, swinging sickeningly as he ran.

All he could think of was to run faster. But he was only halfway across, and he could not run fast enough. Now the planks under his feet were slipping — slipping away! He was stumbling, dropping, the ropes burning his clutching hands. He was dangling in midair, with nowhere to put his feet. And as he hung there,
helpless and buffeted by the wind, the planks in front of him — the planks that were his only pathway to safety — began slithering sideways, falling to the river far below.

Painfully, hand over hand, he began swinging himself along the sagging ropes that were all that remained of the bridge, trying not to think of what was below him, what would happen if he lost his grip.

I am playing a game in Del, he told himself feverishly, ignoring the pain of his straining wrists. There is a muddy ditch just below my feet. My friends are watching me, and will laugh at me if I fall. All I have to do is to keep going — hand over hand —

And then he felt a jolt and knew that the ropes had come loose from the cliff-face behind him. Instantly he was swinging forward, hurtling towards the bare, hard face of the cliff in front. In seconds he would slam against it, his bones shattering on the pink rock. He heard his own scream, and the screams of Barda and Jasmine, floating on the wind. He screwed his eyes shut …

With a rush something huge swooped under him, and the sickening swing stopped as he felt a warm softness on his face, against his arms. He was being lifted up — up — and the beating of mighty wings was louder in his ears than the wind.

Then he was being clutched by eager hands, and tumbled onto the dust of solid ground. His ears
were ringing. He could hear shouting, laughing voices that seemed very far away. But when he opened his eyes he saw that Jasmine and Barda were leaning over him, and it was they who were shouting, with relief and joy.

He sat up, weak and dizzy, clutching at the ground. His eyes met the golden eyes of the great bird that, but for him, would still be the earthbound guardian of the bridge.

You gave me back my life
, the eyes seemed to say.
Now I have returned yours. My debt to you is paid.
Before he could speak, the bird nodded once, spread its wings, and soared away. Lief watched as it joined its companions once more and flew with them, wheeling and shrieking, away along the chasm, into the distance and out of sight.

“You knew that he was a bird,” Lief said to Jasmine later, as they moved slowly on. Though he still felt sore and weak, he had refused to rest for long. The very sight of the cliffs made him feel ill. He wanted to get away from them as fast as he could.

Jasmine nodded, glancing at Kree, who was perched on her shoulder with Filli. “I felt it,” she said. “And I felt such pity for him when I saw the pain and longing in his eyes.”

“In torment he may have been,” snorted Barda. “But he would have killed us, without question.”

The girl frowned. “He cannot be blamed for that. He was doomed to carry out Thaegan’s will. And Thaegan — is a monster.”

Her eyes were dark with loathing. And, remembering the riddle that had almost led to his death, Lief thought that now he knew why. He waited until Barda had moved ahead, then spoke to Jasmine again.

“You are not afraid of Thaegan for yourself, but for Kree,” he said softly. “Is that not so?”

“Yes,” she said, staring straight ahead. “Kree fled to the Forests of Silence after he escaped from her long ago. He was just out of the nest when she took his family. So, in a way, he is like me. I, too, was very young when the Grey Guards took my mother and father.”

Her lips tightened. “Kree and I have been together for many years. But I think it is time for us to part. I am leading him into danger. Perhaps to the terrible death he fears more than any other. I cannot bear it.”

Kree made a low, trilling sound, and she lifted her arm to him, taking him onto her wrist.

“I know you are willing, Kree,” she said. “But I am not. We have talked of this. Now I have truly made up my mind. Please go home to the Forests. If I survive, I will come back for you. If I do not — at least you will be safe.”

She stopped, lifted her wrist into the air, and shook it slightly. “Go!” she ordered. “Go home!”

Flapping his wings to steady himself, Kree squawked protestingly.

“Go!” shouted Jasmine. She jerked her hand roughly and Kree was shaken off her wrist. He soared screeching into the air, circled above them once, then flew away.

Jasmine bit her lip and strode on without looking back, Filli chittering miserably on her shoulder.

Lief searched for something comforting to say, but could not find it.

They reached a grove of trees and began following a narrow path that led through the green shade.

“Thaegan hates anything that is beautiful, alive, and free,” Jasmine said at last, as they entered a clearing where green ferns clustered and the branches of the trees arched overhead. “The birds say that in the land around the Lake of Tears there was once a town called D’Or — a town like a garden, with golden towers, happy people, and lush flowers and trees. Now it is a dead, sad place.”

She waved her hand around her. “As will be all this, when Thaegan and her children have finished their evil work.”

Again, there was silence between them, and in the silence they became aware of the rustling of the trees around the clearing.

Jasmine stiffened. “Enemies!” she hissed. “Enemies approach!”

Lief could hear nothing, but by now he knew better than to ignore one of Jasmine’s warnings. The trees
here were strange to her, but still she understood their whispering.

He sprinted ahead and caught Barda’s arm. Barda stopped and looked around in surprise.

Jasmine’s face was pale. “Grey Guards,” she whispered. “A whole troop of them. Coming this way.”

L
ief and Barda followed Jasmine up into the trees. After their experience in the Forests of Silence it seemed natural to hide above the ground. They climbed as high as they could, while the sound of tramping feet at last came to their ears. They found a safe, comfortable place to cling as the sound grew louder. Wrapped in Lief’s disguising cloak, and further hidden by a thick canopy of leaves, they watched as grey-clad figures began marching into the clearing.

They held themselves very still, flattened against the branches. They thought it would be for only a little time, while the Guards passed. So their hearts sank as they saw the men below them halt, drop their weapons, and throw themselves to the ground.

The troop had chosen the clearing as a resting place it seemed. The three companions exchanged despairing
glances. What ill fortune! Now they would have to remain where they were — perhaps for hours.

More and more Guards entered the clearing. Soon it was crowded with grey uniforms and ringing with harsh voices. And then, as the last of the troop came into view, there was the clinking sound of chains to go with the sound of marching boots.

The Guards were escorting a prisoner.

Lief craned his neck to look. The captive looked very different from anyone he had ever seen before. He was very small, with wrinkled blue-grey skin, thin legs and arms, small black eyes like buttons, and a tuft of red hair sticking up from the top of his head. There was a tight leather collar around his neck, with a fastening for a chain or rope dangling from it. He looked exhausted, and the chains that weighed down his wrists and ankles had made raw marks on his skin.

“They have captured a Ralad,” breathed Barda, moving to see more clearly.

“What is a Ralad?” asked Lief. He thought he had heard or read the name before, but could not think where.

“The Ralads are a race of builders. They were beloved of Adin and all the kings and queens of Deltora’s early times,” Barda whispered back. “Their buildings were famous for their strength and cleverness.”

Now Lief remembered where he had seen the name — in
The Belt of Deltora
, the little blue book his parents had made him study. He gazed in fascination at
the drooping figure below them. “It was the Ralads who built the palace of Del,” he murmured. “But he is so small!”

“An ant is tiny,” muttered Barda. “Yet an ant can carry twenty times its own weight. It is not size that is important, but heart.”

“Be silent!” hissed Jasmine. “The Guards will hear you! As it is, they may catch our scent at any time.”

But the Guards had plainly walked a long way, and were tired. They were interested in nothing but the food and drink now being unpacked from baskets the leaders had placed in the middle of the clearing.

Two of them pushed the prisoner roughly to the ground at the side of the clearing and threw him a bottle of water. Then they turned their attention to their meal.

Jasmine stared with disgust as the guards tore at their food and splashed drink into their mouths so that it ran down their chins and spilt on the ground.

But Lief was watching the Ralad man, whose eyes were fixed on the scraps of food that were being scattered on the grass of the clearing. Clearly, he was starving.

“The scrag is hungry!” sniggered one of the Guards, pointing a half-gnawed bone in the Ralad man’s direction. “Here, scrag!”

He crawled across to where the prisoner was sitting and held out the bone. The starving man cringed, then, unable to resist the food, leaned forward. The
Guard hit him hard on the nose with the bone and snatched it away. The other Guards roared with laughter.

“Beasts!” hissed Jasmine, completely forgetting, in her anger, her own warning about being heard.

“Be still,” whispered Barda grimly. “There are too many of them. There is nothing we can do. Yet.”

The Guards ate and drank till they could eat and drink no more. Then, sprawled carelessly together like a mass of grey grubs, they lay back, closed their eyes, and began to snore.

As quietly as they could, the three companions climbed from branch to branch until they were directly above the Ralad prisoner. He was sitting perfectly still, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed.

Was he, too, asleep? They knew they could not risk startling him awake. If he cried out, all was lost.

Jasmine dug into her pocket and brought out a stem of dried berries. Carefully she leaned out from the tree and threw the stem so that it fell just in front of the motionless captive.

They heard him take a sharp breath. He looked up to the clear sky above where the stem lay, but, of course, saw nothing. His long grey fingers stretched out cautiously and grabbed the prize. He glanced around to make sure that this was not another Guards’ cruel joke, then crushed the stem to his mouth and began tearing at the berries ravenously.

His chains clinked faintly, but the snoring figures around him did not stir.

“Very well,” Jasmine breathed. Taking careful aim, she dropped another stem of berries squarely into the prisoner’s lap. This time he looked straight up, and his button eyes widened with shock as he saw the three faces looking down at him.

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine quickly pressed their fingers to their lips, warning him to be silent. He did not make a sound and crammed berries into his mouth as he watched the strangers edging carefully down the tree towards him.

They already knew that they had no chance of freeing him from his chains without waking the Guards. They had another plan. It was dangerous, but it would have to do. Jasmine and Lief had refused to leave the prisoner to the mercy of his captors, and Barda had not needed much persuading. He was the only one of them who knew of the Ralad people, and the thought of one being held prisoner by the Grey Guards was horrible to him.

While Jasmine kept watch from the tree, Lief and Barda slipped to the ground beside the little man and made signs to him not to fear. Trembling, the prisoner nodded. Then he did something surprising. With the tip of one thin finger he made a strange mark upon the ground and looked up at them inquiringly.

Baffled, Lief and Barda glanced at one another, and then back to him. He saw that they did not understand his meaning. His black eyes grew fearful and he quickly brushed the mark away. But still he seemed to trust the newcomers — or perhaps he thought that no situation could be worse than the one he was in. As the Guards slept on, snoring like beasts, he allowed himself to be quickly and quietly wrapped in Lief’s cloak.

They had decided that their only hope was to carry him away, chains and all. They hoped that the tightly wrapped cloak would stop the chains from clinking together, alerting his enemies.

The chains made the little man heavier than he would otherwise have been, but Barda had no difficulty in picking him up and putting him over one shoulder. They knew that to return to the trees, carrying such a burden, would be clumsy and dangerous. But the prisoner had been lying very near the mouth of the path. All they had to do was reach it and creep silently away.

It was a risk they were all prepared to take. And all would have been well if one of the Guards, dreaming, perhaps, had not, right at that moment, rolled over and flung out his arm, hitting his neighbor on the chin.

The Guard who had been struck woke with a roar, looked wildly around to see who had hit him, and caught sight of Lief and Barda running away down the path.

He shouted the alarm. In seconds, the clearing was alive with angry Guards, roused from their sleep and furious to find their prisoner gone.