Deltora Quest #2: The Lake of Tears (8 page)

J
asmine frowned. “What is Soldeen?” she asked. But Manus could not, or would not, explain.

“Whatever this Soldeen is, we must face it,” growled Barda. “As we must face Thaegan, if she pursues us.”

The Ralads drew together at the mention of Thaegan’s name. Their faces were very grave. Plainly, they thought the travelers did not understand their peril, and that meant that Manus was doomed to die with them, for he was determined to be their guide.

“Do not fear,” Lief said grimly. “We have weapons. If Thaegan tries her tricks on us, we will kill her!”

The people shook their heads and scribbled again. Barda bent, frowning over the lines.

“They say she cannot be killed,” he said at last, reluctantly. “The only way to kill a witch is to draw blood. And Thaegan’s whole body is armored by
magic. Many have tried to pierce it. All have failed, and died.”

Lief glanced at Jasmine. Her eyes were fixed on Kree, who was flying high above them, stretching his wings.

Lief bit his lip and looked back at the Ralads. “Then we will hide from her,” he told them. “We will hide, we will creep, we will do everything we can to avoid her notice. But we must go to the Lake of Tears. We must.”

The tallest of the Ralads, a woman called Simone, stepped forward and scrawled on the ground.

“We cannot tell you why,” said Barda. “But please believe that we do not go into danger out of reckless foolishness. We are pledged to a quest that is for the good of Deltora and all its people.”

Simone looked at him keenly, then slowly nodded. And after that the Ralads stood aside and let the travelers walk down the narrow path that wound away from the village.

Manus led the way, his head high. He did not look back, but Lief did.

The people were standing very still, crowded together, watching them. Their hands were pressed to their hearts. And they did not move until the travelers were out of sight.

By mid-afternoon the way had grown rough and the hills more rugged. Dead trees held bleached, white branches up to the pale sky. The grass crackled under the travelers’ feet, and the low-growing bushes were dusty and dry.

There were scuttlings in the bushes, and rustlings in dark holes beneath the tree roots, but they saw no living creature. The air was heavy and still, and it seemed hard to breathe. They stopped for food and water, but sat only for a short time before moving on. The scuttling sounds were not pleasant, and they had the feeling that they were being watched.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, Manus began to walk more and more slowly, his feet dragging as though he was forcing them to move. His companions trudged behind him in single file, watching the ground which had become treacherous, filled with cracks and holes and littered with stones. They all knew, without being told, that they were nearing the end of their journey.

Finally, they came upon a place where the bases of two steep, rocky hills met, making a narrow “V” shape. Through the gap they could see the red-stained sky and
the fiery ball of the setting sun, glowing like a danger sign.

The Ralad man stumbled to a stop and leaned against one of the rocks. His skin was as grey as dust, his small black eyes were blank with fear.

“Manus, is the Lake —” Lief had not spoken for so long that his voice sounded like a croak. He swallowed, and began again. “Is the Lake just beyond these rocks?”

Manus nodded.

“Then there is no need for you to come any farther,” said Barda. “You have guided us here, and that is all we ask of you. Go home now to your friends. They will be waiting anxiously for your return.”

But Manus firmed his lips and shook his head. He took a stone and wrote on the rock.

This time Lief did not have to wait for Barda to read what the Ralad man had written. He had seen this message before. “You saved me twice from death. My life is yours.”

He, Jasmine, and Barda all began to speak at once, but nothing they could say would change Manus’s mind. In fact, their arguments seemed to strengthen him. His
breathing slowed, his color returned, and his dull eyes began to shine with determination.

At last, he decided to take action. He turned abruptly and almost ran to the gap between the rocks. In moments he had disappeared from view. They had no choice but to run after him.

They stumbled through the narrow passage in single file, keeping as close to the Ralad man, and to one another, as they could. So intent were they on their task that they were not prepared for what they saw when finally they reached the end of the pass.

Not far below them was a murky lake ringed by banks of thick, grey mud riddled with what looked like worm holes. In its center a slimy rock oozed water which dripped ceaselessly into the pool, causing slow, oily ripples to creep across its surface.

Twisted, barren peaks of clay rose beyond the lake like haunted things. There was not one green, growing thing to be seen. There was no sound but the dripping of water and the faint, squelching movements of mud. There were no smells but damp and decay. It was a place of bitterness, ugliness, misery, and death.

Lief’s stomach churned. The Lake of Tears was well named. This, then, was what the sorceress Thaegan had made of the town of D’Or — the town that Jasmine had said was “like a garden.” He heard Barda cursing softly beside him, and Jasmine hissing to Filli and Kree.

Manus simply stared, shivering, at the horror he had heard of all his life, but never seen. The demonstration of Thaegan’s jealousy and wickedness. The evil that had caused his people to speak out, and receive a terrible punishment.

“Is the Belt warm?” Barda murmured in Lief’s ear. “Does it feel the presence of a gem?”

Lief shook his head. “We must go closer,” he whispered back.

Manus glanced at him curiously. They had spoken in low voices, but he had heard what they had said.

He has come this far with us, Lief thought. We must tell him something of what we are trying to do, at least. He will certainly find out in the end, if we are successful.

“We are searching for a special stone that we believe is hidden here,” he told the Ralad man carefully. “But the matter is a deadly secret. If we find what we seek, you must tell no one, whatever happens.”

Manus nodded, his hand on his heart.

Slowly they scrambled down the last of the rocks until they reached the mud that circled the Lake.

“This mud may not be safe,” murmured Jasmine, remembering the quicksand.

“There is only one way to find out,” Barda said, and stepped forward. He sank to his ankles in the fine, grey ooze, but that was all.

Cautiously, the others joined him. Dropping the bags from their backs, they walked together to the edge
of the Lake, their feet leaving deep holes where they trod. Lief crouched and touched the water with the tips of his fingers.

Immediately, the Belt around his waist warmed. His heart gave a great thud.

“The gem is here,” he said in a low voice. “It must be somewhere under the water.”

His ankle itched and absent-mindedly he put down his hand to scratch it. His fingers touched something that felt like slimy jelly. He glanced down and cried out with disgusted horror. His ankle was covered with huge, pale worms. Already they were swelling and darkening as they sucked his blood. He leapt up and kicked wildly, trying to shake them off.

“Be still!” shouted Jasmine. She sprang forward and caught Lief’s foot in her hand. Her mouth twisted with distaste, she began pulling the squirming things off one by one, flicking them aside.

The swollen bodies scattered onto the grey mud and into the water, and Lief’s stomach heaved as other mouths, other crawling hungers of every shape and size, coiled out of the ooze to snatch them up as they fell.

Suddenly the mud was alive with slimy things twisting, creeping, slithering out of hiding. They fought for the worms, tearing them to shreds, and in seconds were winding around the travelers’ feet and legs, wriggling eagerly upwards to find warm, bare flesh on which to feast.

Jasmine could help Lief no longer. Now his ears
were ringing with her panic-stricken cries, and Barda’s, as well as his own. Manus could not cry out. He was staggering, nearly covered by coiling shapes — shapes with no eyes, shapes that made no sound.

There was no hope. Soon they would be overwhelmed — eaten alive …

Filli screamed piteously. Kree, attacking from the air, tore at the beasts on Jasmine’s arms, fighting as they coiled around his feet and wings, pulling him down.

Then, abruptly, as though on some sort of signal, the creatures froze. In their hundreds they began dropping to the ground and burrowing beneath the surface of the mud. In moments, they had all disappeared.

An eerie silence fell.

Shuddering all over, Jasmine began brushing frantically at her legs, arms, and clothes as if she still felt slimy things crawling over her body.

But Lief stood, dazed. “What happened?” he asked huskily. “Why …?”

“Perhaps they do not like how we taste,” said Barda, with a shaky laugh. He turned to give his hand to Manus, who had fallen to his knees in the churned mud.

It was then that Lief saw a trail of bubbles moving from the center of the Lake towards them. Moving fast.

“Barda! Jasmine!” he shrieked. But the warnings had no sooner left his mouth than the oily water beside them heaved and a huge, hideous creature rose from the depths.

Slime dripped from its skin. Its gaping mouth, lined with needle-sharp teeth, swirled with water, worms, and mud. Wicked spines sprouted, gleaming, from its back and sides and sprang like narrow spears from the flesh under its eyes, which burned with ravenous, endless hunger.

It lunged for them, throwing its body onto the shore with a hissing roar that chilled Lief’s blood.

He knew that this was Soldeen.

L
ief stumbled back, frantically drawing his sword. Then he saw that Barda and Manus were the monster’s chosen victims. They had fallen, and were frantically scrabbling in the mud, trying to escape. But Soldeen was almost upon them, his terrible jaws snapping shut and opening wide in an instant, like a huge, cruel trap.

Barely knowing what he was doing, Lief darted forward, shouting at the creature, plunging his sword into the vast, spiny neck.

The sword was torn from his hand as Soldeen swung around, the weapon still hanging, quivering, from his slimy hide. The blade was like a thorn to him — no more than a stinging irritation — but he was not used to defiance. He was angry now, as well as hungry.

He lunged at Lief, mouth agape. Lief leapt away — and sprawled heavily over the bags still lying on the mud where they had been dropped only minutes before.

He lay flat on his back, stunned. He heard Barda and Jasmine shrieking to him in terror, screaming at him to get up, to run!

But it was too late to run. And he had no weapon. He had nothing to protect himself from those terrible jaws, those needle teeth. Except …

He twisted and seized two of the bags by their straps. With all his strength he swung and threw them, straight into that gaping mouth, right to the back of the throat.

Soldeen reared back, choking for breath, shaking his great head from side to side. His tail lashed, churning the water to muddy foam. The sword flew out of his neck, turned in the air, and speared into the mud by Lief’s foot.

Lief grasped it, sprang to his feet, and ran, ran for his life, shrieking for his companions to follow. He knew they had only moments to escape. Soldeen would swallow the bags, or cough them up, in no time.

Only when he reached the rocks did he look back. Barda was clambering up beside him with Manus in his arms. Jasmine, Filli, and Kree were close behind.

And Soldeen was sliding back into the Lake of Tears. He was sliding back into the murky depths, and disappearing from sight.

Darkness came. They stayed upon the rocks, unwilling to move away from the Lake, though fearing another attack from the dark water at any moment.

Jasmine’s supplies were gone, and Barda’s also, for by chance it was their packs that Lief had thrown at Soldeen. The four companions huddled miserably together, sharing the blankets that remained and a damp meal that tasted of mud and worms. Slitherings, squelchings, and the sound of dripping water from the weeping rock set their nerves on edge.

As the full moon rose, flooding the Lake with its ghostly light, they tried to talk, to plan, to decide what they should do. If a gem was somewhere in the mud beneath that murky water, how could it ever be found?

They could return to Raladin for the proper tools and try to drain the Lake. But the work would take months, and none of them really believed that they would survive to complete it. Soldeen, the creatures of the mud, and Thaegan herself would see to that.

Two of them could try to lure Soldeen to the water’s edge at one side of the Lake, while the other two dived for the gem on the other side. But in their hearts they all knew that such a scheme was doomed to failure. Soldeen would feel the movement in his waters, turn, and attack.

Gradually, as the hours crept by, they fell silent. Their cause seemed hopeless. The heavy sadness of the place had seeped into their very souls.

Remembering that the topaz was at its strongest at full moon, Lief put his hand upon it. Hope swelled in him as his mind cleared. But no great idea or wonderful knowledge came into his mind — only one fixed thought. They must at all costs fight this sadness. They must fight the feeling that they could never win, or defeat was certain.

They needed something that would lift them from their despair. Something to give them hope.

He turned to the Ralad man, who was sitting with his head bowed, his hands clasped between his knees.

“Play your flute, Manus,” he begged. “Make us think of times and places other than this.”

Manus looked at him in surprise, then fumbled in his bag and brought out the wooden flute. He hesitated for a moment, then put it to his lips and began to play.

Music rose in lilting waves, filling the dead air with beauty. The flute spoke of crystal-clear water trickling in cool shade, of birds singing in leafy green, of children playing and friends laughing, of flowers lifting their faces to the sun.

Lief felt as if a deadening weight was falling from his shoulders. He saw in the faces of Barda and Jasmine, and even in Manus himself, a dawning hope. Now they remembered what they were fighting for.

He closed his eyes, the better to feel the music. So he did not see the trail of bubbles breaking sluggishly on the surface of the Lake as something surged silently towards the shore.

But then, suddenly, the music stopped. Lief opened his eyes and looked in surprise at Manus. The Ralad man was rigid, the flute still held to his lips. His eyes, wide and glazed with fear, were staring straight ahead. Slowly, Lief turned to see what he was looking at.

It was Soldeen.

Muddy water poured from his back and slime dripped from the holes and lumps in his mottled skin as he slid onto the shore, forcing a great trough in the ooze. He was huge — far larger than they had realized. If he lunged for them now, he could reach them. He could crush them all with one snap of his terrible jaws.

And yet he did not attack. He watched them, waiting.

“Back!” Barda muttered under his breath. “Back away. Slowly …”

“DO NOT MOVE!” the hollow, growling command lashed out at them, freezing them to the spot.

Shocked, terrified, and confused, they stared, unable to believe that it was the monster who had spoken. And yet already he was turning his burning eyes to the trembling Manus, and was speaking again.

“PLAY!” he ordered.

Manus forced his lips and fingers to move. At last, the music began again, hesitating and feeble at first, but gaining in strength.

Soldeen closed his eyes. He was utterly still, poised half in and half out of the water. Like a hideous statue he
faced them, while mingled mud and slime slowly dried on his skin in lumpy streaks.

Lief felt a light touch on his leg. Manus was nudging him with his foot, making signals with his eyes.
This is your chance to escape
, Manus’s eyes were saying.
Climb up the rocks, move back through the pass, while he is distracted.

Lief hesitated. Jasmine jerked her head at him impatiently.
Go!
her frown told him.
You have the Belt. You, at least, must survive, or all is lost.

But it was too late. Soldeen’s eyes had opened once more, and this time they were fixed on Lief.

“Why have you come to this forbidden place?” he growled.

Lief wet his lips. What should he say?

“Do not try to lie,” Soldeen warned. “For I will know if you do, and I will kill you.”

The music of the flute fluttered and stopped as if Manus had suddenly lost his breath.

“PLAY!” roared Soldeen, without moving his gaze from Lief. Tremblingly, the Ralad man obeyed.

Lief made his decision. He lifted his chin. “We have come to seek a certain stone, which has special meaning for us,” he said clearly, over the soft, wavering sound of the flute. “It was dropped from the sky, into this Lake, over sixteen years ago.”

“I know nothing of time,” hissed the beast. “But … I know of the stone. I knew that one day someone would seek it.”

Lief forced himself to continue, though his throat seemed choked. “Do you know where it is?” he asked.

“It is in my keeping,” growled Soldeen. “It is my prize — the only thing in this bitter and lonely place that comforts me in my misery. Do you think that I would let you take it, with nothing in return?”

“Name your price!” called Barda. “If it is within our power, we will pay it. We will go from here and find whatever —”

Soldeen hissed, and seemed to smile. “There is no need for you to search for my price,” he said softly. “I will give you the stone in return for — a companion.” He turned his great head to look at Manus.