Deltora Quest #2: The Lake of Tears (3 page)

H
owling like beasts, the Guards thundered down the path after Lief and Barda. All of them carried slings and a supply of the poisonous bubbles they called “blisters.” All were fitting blisters to their slings as they ran. They knew that as soon as they had clear aim and could hurl the blisters, the running figures ahead of them would fall, helpless and screaming in pain.

Lief and Barda knew it, too. And so, perhaps, did the Ralad man, for he moaned in despair as he bumped on Barda’s shoulder. But the path was winding, so there was no clear aim, and fear gave Lief and Barda’s feet wings. They were staying well ahead.

But Lief knew this could not last. Already, he was panting. Weakened from his ordeal in the chasm, he
did not have the strength he needed to outrun the enemy. Grey Guards could run for days and nights without rest, and could smell out their prey wherever it was hiding.

Far behind he heard thumping, clattering sounds and the angry shouts of falling men. With a thrill of gratitude, he guessed that Jasmine had been following through the trees, dropping dead branches across the path to trip and delay their pursuers.

Be careful, Jasmine, he thought. Do not let them see you.

Jasmine could have remained hidden and safe with Filli. The Guards would never have known that there had been three strangers in the clearing, not just two. But it was not her way to see friends in trouble and do nothing.

With a start, Lief saw her leap lightly to the ground just ahead. He had not realized how close to them she was.

“I have set them an obstacle course,” she said gleefully, as they reached her. “Thorny vine twined round dead branches in six places along the path. That will slow them down!” Her eyes were sparkling with pleasure.

“Keep moving!” grunted Barda. “Their anger will only make them run faster!”

They rounded a bend and to his horror Lief saw that ahead was a long stretch of path with no curves at
all. It seemed to go on and on, straight as an arrow, vanishing into the distance.

The Guards could not ask for clearer aim than this. As soon as they reached this spot, the blisters would start flying, for they would see their enemies clearly, however far ahead they were. Lief’s heart pounded in his aching chest as he fought down despair.

“Off to the side!” hissed Barda, abruptly swerving from the path. “It is our only chance!”

The trees here were slender, with delicate trailing branches — useless for climbing. A carpet of springy grass spread between them, and wild sweetplum bushes were dotted here and there, plump, purple fruits glistening among fresh green leaves.

Lief had never seen sweetplums growing wild before. He had a sudden vision of how pleasant it would have been to wander here peacefully, picking the rich-smelling fruit and eating it straight from the bush. That, no doubt, was what he, Barda, and Jasmine would have done — if they had not met the troop of Guards and their prisoner on the way.

But they
had
met the Guards, and the prisoner. So instead of enjoying the afternoon, they were running for their lives.

Lief glanced at the bundle bobbing on Barda’s shoulder. The Ralad man was no longer groaning, and there was no movement within the folds of the cloak. Perhaps he had fainted. Perhaps he was dead of starvation and terror, and all this had been for nothing.

Abruptly, the ground began to slope away, and Lief saw that their steps were taking them into a little valley that had not been visible from the path. Here the sweetplum bushes were larger, and growing more thickly. The air was filled with their rich perfume.

Jasmine sniffed as she ran. “This is a perfect place to hide!” she muttered excitedly. “The smell of these fruits will mask our scent.”

Lief glanced behind him. Already the grass bent by their running feet had sprung back into place. There was no sign of the way they had taken. For the first time since they left the path he felt a flicker of hope.

He followed Barda and Jasmine to the bottom of the valley. They pushed into the midst of the bushes, which rose above their heads, hiding them completely. In silence, they crept through the dim, green shade. The ground was damp underfoot, and somewhere there was the gurgling of running water. Sweetplums hung everywhere like tiny, glowing lanterns.

They had been under cover for only a few minutes when Jasmine stopped and raised her hand warningly. “I hear them,” she breathed. “They are nearing the place where we left the path.”

Crouching very still, listening carefully, Lief finally heard what her sharper ears had heard before him — the sound of running feet. The sound became louder, louder — and then the feet faltered. The first of the
Guards had come to the straight section of the path. Lief imagined the leaders peering ahead and seeing no one.

There was a moment’s silence. He held his breath at the thought of them sniffing the air, muttering to each other. There was a loud, harsh sound that could have been a laugh or a curse. And then, to his overwhelming relief and joy, he heard an order barked, and the sound of the whole troop turning. In seconds the Guards were marching back the way they had come.

“They have given up,” he breathed. “They think we have outrun them.”

“It may be a trap,” Barda muttered grimly.

The sound of marching feet gradually faded away and though the three companions waited, motionless, for several long minutes, nothing disturbed the silence. Finally, at a whisper from Jasmine, Filli skittered away to the nearest tree and ran up the trunk. In moments he was back, chattering softly.

“All is well,” Jasmine said, standing up and stretching. “Filli cannot see them. They have truly gone.”

Lief stood up beside her, easing his cramped muscles with relief. He pulled a sweetplum from the bush beside him and bit into it, sighing with pleasure as the sweet, delicious juice cooled his parched throat.

“There are better fruits further along,” said Jasmine, pointing ahead.

“First I must see how my poor piece of baggage is faring,” said Barda. He unwrapped the cloak and was soon cradling the Ralad man in his arms.

“Is he dead?” asked Lief quietly.

Barda shook his head. “He is unconscious — and no wonder. The Ralad are a strong people, but no one can resist starvation, exhaustion, and fear forever. Who knows how long our friend has been a prisoner of the Guards, or how far he has walked in heavy chains without being given any food or rest?”

Lief looked at the small man curiously. “I have never seen anyone like him before,” he said. “What was that sign he drew upon the ground?”

“I do not know. When he awakes, we will ask him.” Barda groaned as he lifted the Ralad man up again. “He has caused us some trouble, but still the meeting was fortunate,” he added. “He can guide us from here. The village of Raladin, where he comes from, is very near the Lake of Tears. Let us find a place where we can sit in more comfort and remove these chains.”

They pushed on through the bushes. The further they moved into the little valley, the more enchanting it seemed. Soft moss covered the ground like a thick green carpet and nodding flowers clustered everywhere. Brightly colored butterflies fluttered around the sweetplum bushes, and the sun, filtering through the delicate leaves of the slender trees, shed a gentle, green-gold light over everything it touched.

Never had Lief seen such beauty. He could tell from Barda’s face that he felt the same. Even Jasmine was soon looking around with warm pleasure.

They reached a small clearing and gratefully sank down onto the moss. There Barda used Jasmine’s dagger to cut the tight leather collar from the Ralad man’s neck and break the locks on his chains. As he pulled the chains away he frowned at the rubbed, raw patches on the man’s wrists and ankles.

“They are not so bad.” Jasmine inspected the wounds casually. She pulled a small jar from her pocket and unscrewed the lid. “This is of my own making, from my mother’s recipe,” she said, lightly spreading a pale green cream onto the raw places. “It heals skin quickly. It was often useful … in the Forests of Silence.”

Lief glanced at her. She was looking down, frowning fiercely as she screwed the lid back on the jar.

She is homesick, Lief thought suddenly. She misses Kree, and the Forests, and the life she had there. Just as I miss my home, and my friends, and my mother and father.

Not for the first time he felt a stab in his heart as he thought of all he had left behind in Del. He thought of his room — tiny, but safe and full of his own treasures. He thought of evenings in front of the fire. Running wild in the streets with his friends. Even working with his father at the forge.

Suddenly he longed for a hot, home-cooked meal. He longed for a warm bed and a comforting voice bidding him good night.

He jumped up, furious with himself. How could he be so weak, so childish? “I am going to explore,” he said loudly. “I will collect some sweetplums for us to eat, and wood for a fire.”

He did not wait for an answer from Barda and Jasmine, but strode to the edge of the clearing and through a gap between two trees.

The sweetplum bushes here were even more heavily laden than the ones he had already seen. He walked between them, using his cloak as a pouch to hold the fragrant fruits he picked. There were few dead sticks, but those there were he collected. Even a small fire would be welcome when night came.

His eyes fixed to the ground, he walked on. At last he stumbled on a good piece of flat wood, far bigger than anything else he had seen. It was damp, and moss had grown over it, but he knew it would soon dry and burn once the fire was well alight.

Pleased, he picked it up and, straightening his back, looked around to see where he was. And it was then that he saw something very surprising, right in front of his nose. It was a sign — old, broken, and battered, but plainly made by human hands:

Beside the sign, hanging from a tree branch, was a metal bell.

How strange, Lief thought. He peered through the bushes beyond the sign and jumped with surprise. Directly ahead was a strip of smooth, bright green lawn. And beyond the lawn, in the distance, was what looked like a small white house. Smoke was drifting from the chimney.

“Barda!” he cried, his voice cracking. “Jasmine!”

He heard them exclaiming and running towards him, but he could not tear his eyes away from the little house. As they reached him, he pointed and they gasped in amazement.

“I never thought to find people living here!” exclaimed Barda. “What a piece of good fortune!”

“A bath!” cried Lief happily. “Hot food! And perhaps a bed for the night!”

“‘Ring and Enter,’” said Jasmine, reading the sign. “Very well, then. Let us obey!”

Lief stretched out his hand and rang the bell. It made a cheery, welcoming sound, and together the friends ran through the bushes and onto the green lawn.

They had taken only a few steps before they realized that something was terribly wrong. Desperately they tried to turn back. But it was too late. Already they were sinking — to their knees … their thighs … their waists …

Beneath the green-covered surface of what they had thought was a fine flat lawn — was quicksand.

F
loundering, terrified, they screamed for help as the quicksand sucked them down. Already they had sunk nearly to their chests. Soon — soon they would disappear under the treacherous green surface that they now knew was simply a thin layer of some slimy water plant.

The fruit and sticks that Lief had been carrying had scattered and sunk without trace, but the big piece of wood he had found was still lying on the surface of the quicksand between the three struggling friends. It floats because it is flat and wide, Lief thought through his panic. It is floating where nothing else will.

There was a shout, and he saw, hurrying from the little white cottage, two plump, grey-haired figures carrying a long pole between them. Help was coming. But by the time it arrived it would be too late. Too late.

Unless …

Lief reached out for the flat piece of wood and just managed to touch its edge with the tips of his fingers.

“Jasmine! Barda!” he shouted. “Hold on to this wood. At the edges. Gently. Try to — to stretch out and spread yourselves flat, as though you were swimming.”

They heard him. They did as he asked. In moments the three companions were spread out around the piece of wood like the petals of a giant flower or the spokes of a wheel. High on Jasmine’s shoulder, Filli chattered with fear, clutching her hair with his tiny hands.

They were no longer sinking. The wood was holding them almost steady. But for how long could their balance last? If one of them panicked — if the wood tipped one way or the other, it would slide under the quicksand and they would go with it and be lost.

“Help is coming!” gasped Lief. “Hold on!”

He did not dare to raise his head to look for the two old people in case the movement disturbed his balance. But he could hear their gasping cries. They were very close now.

Oh, quickly, he begged them in his mind. Please hurry!

He heard them reach the edge of the quicksand. He could not understand their words, because they were speaking in a strange tongue. But their voices were urgent. It was clear that they wanted to help.

“Taem hserf!”
the man was panting.

“Knis ti tel ton od!”
the woman exclaimed in answer.
“Tou ti teg!”

There was a splash. The quicksand surged and rippled. Lief clutched at his piece of wood and cried out. Green slime and sand covered his mouth, his nose … Then he felt something catch him around the back, curving under his arms, holding him up, pulling him forward.

Choking and spluttering, he opened his eyes. Whatever was holding him — a large metal hook, perhaps — was attached to the end of a long wooden pole. Jasmine and Barda had caught hold of the pole itself. Like him, they were being towed slowly towards firm ground by the two old people who heaved together, grunting with the effort.

There was nothing the three friends could do to help themselves. Progress was agonizingly slow. The quicksand sucked at their bodies, holding them back. But the two old people would not give up. Red-faced, they sweated and puffed, pulling at the pole with all their might.

And at last, Lief saw Jasmine and Barda pulled out of the sand’s grip. With a horrible, sucking sound it released them and they flopped together onto dry land — wet, filthy, and covered in slime.

Moments later it was his turn. His body popped from the ooze and onto the bank like a cork from a bottle — so suddenly that the two old people tumbled
backwards and sat down hard. They gasped, clutching each other and laughing.

Lief lay, panting on the ground, gabbling his relief and thanks. Hard against his back was the hook that had saved his life, but he did not care. He found that he was still clutching the piece of wood, and laughed. Rough and rubbishy as it was, it, too, had played its part. He was glad it had not been lost in the sand. He sat up and looked around.

The two old people were picking themselves up, chattering excitedly to one another.

“Efas era yeht!”
cried the old woman.

“Egamad on!”
her companion agreed.

“What are they talking about?” muttered Jasmine. “I cannot understand a word they say.”

Lief glanced at her. Her face was thunderous.

“Do not frown at them so, Jasmine,” he whispered urgently. “They saved our lives!”

“They nearly
took
our lives, with their foolish ‘Ring and Enter’ sign,” she snapped. “I do not see why I should be grateful to them!”

“They may not have put the sign there,” Barda pointed out calmly. “It may have been here longer than they have. It looked very old — broken and battered.”

Suddenly, Lief had a terrible thought. He looked down at the piece of wood he held in his hand. It, too, looked very old. And it, too, had a jagged edge, as though it had been broken away from something larger, a long time ago.

Slowly he rubbed away the moss that still clung to one side. His face began to burn as faded words and letters became visible.

In his mind’s eye he fitted this piece of wood to the sign on the other side of the quicksand.

Silently, he held up the piece of wood so that Jasmine and Barda could see the words. Their eyes widened and they groaned as they realized how they had made the mistake that had nearly been their death.

The two old people were bustling up to them. When they in their turn saw the piece of broken sign, they exclaimed and looked shocked.

“Ti was yeht!”
cried the woman.

“Ti wonk ton did yeht. Sloof!”
growled the man. He took the piece of sign from Lief’s hand and shook his head. Then he pointed across to the other side of the quicksand and made breaking movements with his hands.

Lief nodded. “Yes, the warning sign was broken,” he said, though he knew they could not understand him. “We were fools for not realizing that, and for rushing forward as we did.”

“The sign has been broken for years!” muttered Jasmine, still angry. “The piece that has fallen off is covered in moss. They must have known. And why is there a bell hanging from the tree?”

“If a ring of quicksand surrounds their land, perhaps they rarely leave it,” Barda murmured. “If that is so, how could they know what is beyond?”

The old woman smiled at Lief. Her smile was sweet and merry. She was pink-cheeked, with twinkling blue eyes, and she was wearing a long blue dress. Her apron was white and her grey hair was tied in a knot on the back of her neck.

Lief smiled back at her. She reminded him of a picture in one of the old storybooks in the bookshelf at home. It made him feel warm and safe just looking at her. The old man was also comforting to look at. He had a kind, cheery face, a fringe of grey hair around a bald patch on his head, and a bushy white mustache.

“Nij,”
the woman said, patting her chest and bowing slightly. Then she pulled the old man forward.
“Doj,”
she said, tapping him.

Lief realized that she was telling him their names. “Lief,” he said in return, pointing at himself. Then he held out his hand to Jasmine and Barda and said their names as well.

With each introduction, Nij and Doj bowed and smiled. Then they pointed to the little white house, mimed washing and drinking, and looked at the three companions questioningly.

“Certainly,” beamed Barda, nodding vigorously. “Thank you. You are kind.”

“Yrgnuh era ew,”
said Doj, patting him on the back. He and Nij both roared with laughter as if at some great joke, and began walking together towards the house.

“Are you forgetting the Ralad man?” asked Jasmine in a low voice, as the three companions followed. “He will wake and find us gone. He may look for us. What if he falls into the quicksand, too?”

Barda shrugged. “I doubt that he will try to find us,” he said comfortably. “He will be too eager to make his way home again. Though Ralads have always
traveled to do their building work, they hate to be away from Raladin for too long.”

As the girl lingered, looking back over her shoulder, his voice sharpened. “Come along, Jasmine!” he complained. “Anyone would think that you enjoyed being wet and covered in slime!”

Lief was hardly listening. His feet were quickening as he approached the little white house with the smoking chimney and the flower gardens.
Home
, his heart was telling him.
Friends. Here you can rest. Here you will be safe.

Barda strode beside him, as eager as Lief was to reach the welcoming house and to enjoy the comforts inside.

Jasmine trailed behind, with Filli nestled against her hair. She was still frowning. If either Lief or Barda had paid attention to her, had listened to her doubts and suspicions, they might have slowed their steps.

But neither of them did. And they did not realize their mistake until long after the green door had shut behind them.