Deltora Quest #8: Return to Deltora (10 page)

T
here was a sudden confusion of noise from the windows below him. The newest captives were coming through. Fallow shrieked an order. Guards touched torches to the red cones. The crowd gasped in shock as blinding white light hissed and flared. Light flooded the Place, lighting the faces of the prisoners, banishing every shadow, illuminating the whole of the side of the palace almost to the roof.

Bathing Lief in brilliance.

He shrank back, but there was nowhere to hide. And the people of Del, looking up, could see him. See him clearly. His stomach heaved as he waited for them to call out, pointing and exclaiming. Waited for Fallow to turn, for Fallow’s eyes to follow the pointing fingers, to sight him, to shriek to the Guards …

But there was utter stillness. Utter silence. Lief saw a wide-eyed little child in her mother’s arms began to lift
a hand. But the mother quickly pushed the hand down, murmuring softly, and the child stilled.

Lief stared, holding his breath. The people of Del stared back, their faces intent. Many knew him well — his friends, their parents, those who had visited the forge while he worked with his father. Others knew him only by sight — as a nuisance, a wild boy running with his friends through the city. Some did not know him at all.

But they knew he was one of them. They saw what was in his hands. And none of them was going to give him away.

Fallow had noticed nothing. He was watching as Jasmine, Barda, and Doom, blindfolded with hoods and heavily chained, were dragged to his side.

Lief measured the distance to Jasmine with his eyes. He took the rope in his right hand. Grasped the Belt firmly in his left …

The people watched. Silent. Wishing him well. He felt their thoughts as clearly as if they had shouted them aloud. Flowing through him. Giving him strength.

“Now!” Fallow cried. “Now I show you three traitors who nearly escaped, because a vain and foolish creature, bloated with pride, thinking to be my rival, put his own secret plans into action while I was — occupied with other important duties.”

Grinning, he snatched off Jasmine’s hood. Then Barda’s. But when he saw Doom, the grin vanished. He took a step back, his face a mixture of fear and rage.

Wait
…

Leif saw his father turn, look at Doom. He saw his father’s eyes light with mingled joy and pain. Saw him stretch out a trembling hand to his boyhood friend.

And saw Doom staring back, his ravaged face suddenly blazing with consciousness, with memory. Then turning this way and that, looking around him, searching urgently for someone he could not find.

Searching for me.

“You fools!” Fallow hissed savagely to the Guards who had brought the prisoners. “This is not one of the three! Where is the boy? The
boy
?”

The Guards mumbled in confusion and backed away.

Now!

Lief jumped, Kree screeching above his head. He swung outward, then let go of the rope and landed just beyond Jasmine, stumbling, then regaining his feet. He lunged for her, the Belt in his hand. He saw her face, wild-eyed with shock, heard Barda shouting, the crowd roaring, Fallow screaming to the Guards. And from the tower, a cry of rage that pierced his flesh, melted his bones, forced him to his knees.

Lightning cracked the boiling sky, streaking towards him. He threw himself aside, rolling, stunned, as it struck the place where he had been kneeling. With the shriek of splitting wood, the front of the platform collapsed as though a giant had smashed it with a mighty fist. Its two halves tipped towards one another
like giant slides, and the nearest Guards toppled, scrambling, shrieking, into the yawning gap between, white hot coals spilling after them.

Lightning flashed again, and again. Roaring thunder shook the trembling earth. And out of the thunder swooped the seven Ak-Baba, their unearthly, wailing cries chilling the blood.

Lief clung desperately to the tilting boards. The crowd was screaming now, screaming to him …

But Fallow — Fallow had him. Fallow’s icy hand was on his neck, wrenching him upward. The hated, writhing face was close to his, lips drawn back in a snarl of triumph as Lief struggled to draw his sword.

Then, abruptly, the face jerked backwards, eyes bulging. Lief was hurled backwards once more as the icy hand loosened, flew to the thin throat, and clawed desperately at the strangling chains biting deeply into the flesh.

Did Fallow know who had seized him? Did he know who were behind him now, using the last of their strength to heave him, choking, away from his prey?

The ones he had thought too broken to be a threat. Whose chains he had dropped without a thought.

“Father! Mother! Beware!” Lief screamed, clawing his way up the slope towards them. Fallow was feeling for his dagger. He had found it! Lief lunged forward.

“No, Lief!” his father cried. “The Belt! You —”

His voice was silenced as Fallow struck. He crumpled and fell. Lief’s mother caught him, and together they crashed onto the groaning boards. She flung out a hand and clutched the edge of the platform to hold them both, her scream lost in the raging of the wind, the shrieking of the Ak-Baba.

Fallow was dragged down with them, caught by the chains wound around his neck. He pulled himself free, writhing on the tipping boards, struggling for breath, struggling to rise. Then he saw the red cone of light sliding slowly towards him. He grabbed for it, seized its base, then saw his danger.

Too late. Slowly, slowly, the cone tipped. Burning white liquid light poured over him, covering him, sizzling, sizzling as he screamed.

There was a roaring, rushing sound above. Lief looked up. Red smoke was gushing from the tower. Red smoke, thick and edged with grey, heavy with menace. Grey light circled and swirled in its depths. And in its center a huge shape was forming. Hands, reaching. Eyes, hungry for revenge.

Lief spun around. He saw Jasmine and Barda face-down on the other side of the platform, clinging on for dear life as the planks tipped more and more steeply. Above them flapped an Ak-Baba, talons outstretched. Kree was darting at the monster’s head, yellow eyes flashing as he pecked again and again. The Ak-Baba was screeching in fury, twisting its neck, trying to rid itself of its attacker.

Lief gritted his teeth. Prepared for the jump of his life. Could he do it? Jump that yawning gap and climb up those steep, slippery boards? With the sword in one hand, the Belt of Deltora clutched in the other?

Once, he would have tried it. Now, he had learned wisdom. Steadying himself, he sheathed his sword. He clasped the Belt around his waist …

And — time seemed to stand still.

What
…?

A rush of heat swept through Lief’s body. There was a strange, crackling sound. Then the Belt seemed to explode with light.

A furious roar shook the palace to its core. Red smoke recoiled, hissing, into the boiling clouds. But the gems of the Belt of Deltora blazed like fire, their rainbow brilliance streaming outward, filling the air, banishing the night, dancing on the faces of the cheering, weeping people. And in the center of the light stood Lief. Lief, the true heir of Deltora, revealed at last.

Shrieking, panic-stricken, the Ak-Baba wheeled away, soared upward to the tower. But the tower was empty. And already the red clouds were rolling back to the Shadowlands, a raging malice growling in their depths. A malice that would not die, but which knew that this battle, at least, it could not win.

Astounded, Lief looked around him. Saw his mother smling, sobbing, cradling his father’s head in her lap, and Doom kneeling beside them. Saw Jasmine and Barda, clinging together, their faces wild with joy and relief
while Kree screeched above them and Filli danced on Jasmine’s shoulder. Looked behind him at the shrieking, cheering Manus, Gla-Thon, Nanion, and Fardeep. Saw Zeean raising her head, her eyes shining. And Glock — Glock! — grinning all over his face.

They are safe, Lief thought, his heart swelling. All will be safe now.

The remaining Guards were tearing blisters by the dozen from the boxes and hurling them into the celebrating crowd. But the people had already learned that water and Boolong sap were not harmful. Soon, the Guards would realize their own danger.

For they had been ruthlessly abandoned. As had the Ols, who, their source of power withdrawn, lay with burst and shrivelled hearts in the market square, where at last Steven was climbing from the pit. As had Ichabod, sprawled like a drained sack of red skin over the gnawed bones of his last meal.

And so it would be now, all over the land. As the radiance of the Belt filled Lief, his eyes seemed to pierce darkness and distance. From Raladin to Rithmere, from Dread Mountain to the Valley of the Lost, from Broad River to Withick Mire, fear was vanishing.

Throughout Deltora people were seeing their enemies falling, the clouds of evil in flight. The people were throwing down their weapons in joy, creeping from hiding, embracing their loved ones, and looking up at the
sky. Knowing that suddenly, amazingly, a miracle had occurred. And at last they were free.

Lief knew all this. He knew, he accepted, that he was the heir to Deltora. The Belt had proved it beyond doubt. But how? How could this be?

D
azed, Lief climbed to his parents’ side. As he knelt, embracing his mother and bending to his father, he met Doom’s eyes. Doom’s mouth twitched into a ghost of his old, mocking smile. Do you not yet understand? the smile seemed to ask.

Lief shook his head. Dimly he heard the crowd cheering still. He felt Jasmine and Barda, freed from their chains, sinking down beside him. But he could not move. He could not speak. He could only stare at Doom, his eyes filled with questions.

“The perfect hiding place,” Doom murmured. “Was it not? For whoever would suspect? Whoever would suspect that the man and woman who ran from Del that night nearly seventeen years ago were laying a false trail? That they were not the king and queen at all?”

His eyes warmed as he looked at Lief’s parents. “Who would suspect that the king of Deltora could live as a blacksmith? And a queen, a fine lady of Toran blood, could grow vegetables, and spin common yarn? Yet, what was Adin, but a blacksmith?

Then he turned back to Lief, and raised an eyebrow. “And what should be more fitting than that the heir to Deltora be brought up as a common boy, learning without trying the ways of his world, and its people?”

Then, in wonder, Lief saw it. Saw the plan in all its simplicity. A plan based on sacrifice. Based, also, on the confusion and chaos that Del had become. When neighbor lost sight of neighbor, friend lost touch with friend, and no face was familiar.

Doom’s plan … Doom, who was not Endon, but Jarred. Jarred who, with his beloved wife, had given his identity, his home, and his life to his friend, for the sake of the land they loved. Jarred, who had fled Del that dark night, with the little rhyme that had led him into the palace still in his pocket. No wonder Jasmine was as she was, with parents such as these!

“You had the idea of decoys once before, then, Doom?” he murmured.

Doom nodded. “So it seems. Though I did not know it, when I sent our Toran friends to the west. It is good to think that they, also, are safe.” He glanced behind him, and Lief heard the sound of fighting in the palace.

“The Resistance has arrived,” Doom said casually. “They will take care of the last of the Guards. Like Barda and Steven, I thought it wise to make a special plan, known to no one else. There is a certain drain-tunnel in Del, that leads to the palace kitchens …”

“I think I know it,” Lief muttered. “I found it once. On my birthday …”

His mother squeezed his hand.

His mother. Not Anna of the Forge, practical and wise in the ways of herbs and growing things. But Sharn, of Tora. The one who could weave like a miracle. The one whose wit and courage had taught him so much.

Lief looked down at his father, the tender, soft-spoken man whose name, he now knew, was not Jarred, but Endon. How could he have not guessed?

How could his gentle father have done the things Jarred was said to have done? Why would the true Jarred have been so bitter about Endon’s foolishness?

The face seemed smoothed, softened. It was very calm. The eyes were warm and peaceful. The mouth curved into a smile. Lief heard Barda’s quickly indrawn breath, and felt his own eyes burn with tears.

“Do not weep for me,” his father murmured. “I am happy. My life is fulfilled. Here, now, at the moment of my death, I have what I have longed for. The knowledge that the evil caused by my fault has been undone. The knowledge that, with my dear wife, I have raised a son who can lead his people wisely, know their hearts.”

“Why did you not tell me, Father?” murmured Lief. “Why did you not tell me who I was?”

“While you did not know, you were safe,” his father whispered. “And — you had to learn — to love and know the people, and be one of them. That — I had sworn.”

“But … Barda?” Lief glanced at the big man kneeling so silently beside him.

His mother shook his head. “Barda did not know the truth. He had seen Jarred and Anna leave. He thought they were the king and queen, for that is what we told him. At the palace he had only ever seen us from a distance, dressed and painted in palace fashion. We never told him the secret. We had sworn to keep the plan between the four of us. And when you went on your quest — why, we thought that as soon as the Belt was complete, there would be no need for explanation. We thought it would shine! We did not know …”

“We did not know that the order of the gems was important,” Doom finished. “How could we? The book told nothing of that.”

“It did,” Lief said quietly. “But it told it in riddles.”

Endon smiled. “That is fitting,” he said. “For all along, Lief, this has been a story where nothing is as it seems. I have always liked such tales. For such tales usually have happy endings…. As does this one.”

His eye closed. Lief clasped his mother’s hand, and bowed his head.

Lief, Jasmine, and Barda stood together, looking out into the dawn.

“I am glad it was you, Lief,” Jasmine said. “So glad.”

Lief looked at her. Her face was smudged with mud. Her hair was tangled. Her mouth was set in a strong, straight line.

“Why?” he asked.

“I could have offered the people nothing,” she said, moving away from him. “How could I be a queen? What am I but a wild girl, quick-tempered and troublesome, more at home in a forest than a walled garden?” She tossed her head. “Besides, I cannot stay here. This city is hideous to me. And the palace — a prison!”

“Prison walls can fall,” Lief said softly. “Gardens can become forests. Del can be beautiful once more. And as for what you can offer, Jasmine …” For a moment, his voice failed him. This was so important. He had to choose his words carefully. But whatever he said must be the truth. Not the whole truth, perhaps, but at least part of it.

“Well?” Jasmine demanded, her shoulders rigid.

“There is much to do,” Lief said simply. “So much to do, Jasmine. All over Deltora. Barda, Doom, and I cannot do it alone. We need your courage and your strength. We need you, exactly as you are.”

“Indeed,” said Barda gruffly.

Jasmine glanced at them over her shoulder. Filli chattered in her ear. Kree screeched on her arm.

“Then, I suppose I will stay — for a while,” she said, after a moment. “For, certainly, you need me. As your father needed my father. To get things done.”

Lief smiled, and, for once, did not argue.

He was well satisfied.