Deltora Quest #8: Return to Deltora (7 page)

C
andles flickered around the walls. Faces — grave, excited, afraid — formed a half circle around the seven. All eyes were on the Belt, lying in shadow, on the table where Lief had set it.

They were standing by Barda’s bed. Jasmine had insisted on that. “In whatever twilight world he is wandering, he may hear us,” she said. “And even if he cannot, it is his right to be present.”

No one argued with her. But it was clear to all that Barda’s long struggle for life was almost done.

Zeean stepped forward. “I, Zeean of Tora, am here,” she said gravely, laying her hand upon the amethyst.

Gla-Thon was next. “And I, Gla-Thon of the Dread Gnomes,” she said, her head held high as she caressed the emerald.

Lief watched, holding himself rigidly, as one by one the others moved forward.

“Fardeep, of the Mere.” Fardeep’s usually hearty voice was shaking. Humbly, he touched the lapis lazuli.

“Steven, of the Plains.” Steven towered over all the rest, his golden hair gleaming as he bent to the opal.

“Manus, for the Ralad people.” Manus brushed the ruby with gentle fingers.

Glock lumbered forward. His face was fierce and proud as he stretched out his huge paw to the diamond. “I am Glock, last of the Jalis,” he growled. And Lief caught his breath as he saw tears spring into the savage eyes.

Then it was his turn. He squeezed Barda’s hand and moved to the Belt. The faces of the watchers in the front row swam before his eyes.

Jasmine, solemn, Filli and Kree on her shoulder. Ailsa, paws clasped to her mouth. Nanion, chief of D’Or, eager. Doom, watchful. Dain, pale and intent.

Lief placed his hand upon the golden topaz. For you, Barda, he thought. For Mother and Father, and all at home. “Lief, of Del,” he said clearly.

He looked down. The Belt was almost hidden by the hands that touched it. Seven hands of every color, every shape, pressed together in one purpose.

Zeean was speaking again, saying the words that had been agreed.

“Together we, representatives of the seven tribes,
renew our ancient vow to unite under the power of the Belt of Deltora, and swear loyalty to Adin’s rightful heir.”

“We swear,” the seven said as one.

And Lief felt the Belt warm under his hand. A thrill ran through him. The topaz was gleaming golden through his fingers. His mind sharpened. The Belt grew hotter, hotter until he was forced, like his companions, to draw his hand away. But by that time, he knew.

The heir was here, in this room.

He looked up. His gaze swept over the people in front of him. Fixed on one. One whose body was trembling, but whose face was shimmering with light as he stepped forward.

Dain.

How could I not have seen? Lief thought, staring in wonder as gasps of shock sighed through the crowd. How could I not have guessed?

Dain, whose very name was a clue, an anagram, made up as it was from the letters that also formed the name “Adin.” Dain, who had grown up on an isolated farm, not far from where they now stood. Who had learned the ancient royal art of archery, and as much as his parents could teach him of Deltora’s history. Dain — who was quiet, obedient, and dutiful like his father, dark and delicate like his Toran mother. The name he had given his mother — Rhans — was only Sharn in another form. Yet no one had seen it.

How well he had kept his great secret! Only once had he come close to revealing it. When he had lain by the cracked stone in Tora’s heart, stunned and broken by shock and despair.

The tension in the room seemed to crackle as Lief picked up the Belt and moved slowly forward.

Dain waited. The trembling had stopped. He was holding his head high, now. A quiet dignity seemed to have settled over his shoulders like a fine cloak. The smooth skin of his face and hands glowed with light.

My father served and protected his father, thought Lief. Now I will serve and protect him.

He stretched out his hands. The Belt hung loosely between his fingers, for the first time catching the light. He felt a strange reluctance to let it go. He glanced at Jasmine. She nodded, her eyes shining.

This is what we have striven for, Lief thought. This is what was meant to be. He stared at the Belt, taking one last look at the stones that gleamed in the steel medallions. So hard-won, so beautiful …

Then he blinked. The ruby was not red, but palest pink. The emerald was dull as a stone. The amethyst had paled to soft mauve. The blood rushed to Lief’s head, and his heart begin to pound.

“Danger! Evil!” he gasped. “Here —”

A bloodcurdling shriek split the air. Something huge burst, slavering, through the door. Then, with a sound like thunder, a blast of wind tore through the room, blowing out the candles, throwing Lief backwards
into darkness. He scrambled blindly on the hard floor, clutching the Belt, crying out for Jasmine, for Dain. The wind beat in his face. He could hear crashing and thudding as people fell and furniture flew, splintering against the walls.

“Lief! The Belt!” he heard Dain screaming. “To me! Oh, quickly —”

His cry was drowned out by the wind, by screaming, by something roaring with savage fury.

Lief staggered to his feet and began battling through the howling darkness in the direction from which the voice had come. Something flew through the air and hit him in the chest with tremendous force, hurling him back against Barda’s bed. He slumped over it, gasping for breath, struggling to rise.

Then there was a tremendous, rumbling crash from the doorway and the wind stopped, as suddenly as it had begun.

A ghastly silence fell, broken only by the moans and sobs of injured people. His head spinning, Lief pushed himself away from the bed. As he did so, Barda stirred.

“Cold …” Barda whispered. Lief realized that his fall had dragged the blankets from the bed. Feverishly feeling around in the dark, he found them and did his best to spread them over Barda once more. Then, wincing at the pain in his chest, he managed to stand. “Dain!” he heard Doom shouting. “Dain! Answer me!”

But there was no reply.

Someone lit a torch, using the coals of the fire. Glock. Lief caught a glimpse of his brutish face, weirdly lit by flickering light. Glock had a great bruise on his forehead. One of his eyes was swelling and darkening. But still he held the torch high, sweeping it from side to side so that great shadows leaped around the walls.

Lief saw Ailsa, curled on the floor like a great stone; Gla-Thon, staggering from among the remains of the table that had held the belt; Doom, his face smeared with blood; Zeean clutching Manus for support; Jasmine murmuring to Filli. The door was torn from its hinges. The opening was blocked by a mass of collapsed wood and rubble …

And Dain was gone. His dagger was lying on the floor where he had dropped it. Dazed, Lief walked over to it. Then he bent and picked it up. The tip of the blade was stained with blood. Dain had tried to fight his attacker. But he had stood no chance.

Sliding the dagger into his belt, Lief thought of the moment he had hesitated before handing over the Belt of Deltora. Perhaps if he had not given in to that feeling of reluctance — if he had passed the Belt to Dain at once — none of this would have happened. Dain would have been safe. They would all have been safe.

Sick with pain and guilt, he looked down at his hands, and his stomach lurched as he realized he was no longer holding the Belt. He looked around wildly, then realized that, of course, he must have dropped it on
Barda’s chest when he fell against the bed. It was safe there, covered in blankets. He would get it in a moment. When his head had stopped spinning. When he could breathe properly again. When this sickness passed.

He slid to the ground and crouched there, like a wounded animal.

“Dain has been taken!” Fardeep was whispering.

“It was a creature of darkness that did the deed,” snarled Glock. “I saw it, as it burst in. A wolf — huge — with a yellow mouth. Then, it changed to a fiend. Even larger. And slimy red, like blood!”

A terrible thought came to Lief’s mind. He wet his lips, afraid to put it into words.

Glock’s eyes narrowed. He pointed a stubby finger at Lief. “You know something!” he growled. “I see it in your face. What was this thing?”

The words caught in Lief’s throat as he spoke. “It sounds — like …”

“Like the last and most wicked of all the sorceress Thaegan’s children,” Doom finished for him. “The only one of that foul brood that still prowls the northeast. Ichabod.”

“We have been betrayed,” hissed Gla-Thon.

Glock bared his teeth and glared around the room. His eyes fixed on Manus. “You came from the northeast, Ralad man,” he snarled, clenching his fists. “You led the monster here! Admit it!”

Quaking, too shocked and afraid to speak, Manus shook his head. Nanion of D’Or moved to stand beside
him. “If we were followed, we were unaware of it,” he said sternly. “Keep your insults to yourself, Jalis.”

“Do … not … fight.” The words were soft, mumbled. But they broke the angry silence like a shout. For it was Barda who had spoken — Barda, struggling to sit up, to look around him. Jasmine shrieked piercingly and flew to his side, her hair wildly tangled, her small face pale in the glow of the lantern she had coaxed to life.

“Fighting … will profit us nothing!” Barda said, his voice growing stronger.

“It is a miracle!” Zeean breathed, staring.

It is the Belt, Lief thought. The Belt. It must be.

But already Doom was striding towards the door. “We must dig our way out of this place and give chase,” he snapped. “Every moment we delay means that Dain is closer to death!”

“He is dead already,” Glock growled. “The monster will by now have torn him limb from limb.”

Doom’s head jerked up, as though he had just remembered something. “Where is Steven?” he asked sharply.

In the silence that followed, they heard a faint sound. A scratching sound, coming from the rubble that blocked the doorway.

“Steven!” Doom shouted.

“Yes!” a voice answered weakly. “I am here. Trapped. The building collapsed upon us as we tried to give chase. Even Nevets could not free us. Doom — it was Ichabod. Ichabod has Dain!”

“We thought as much,” said Doom grimly.

“I could see nothing, but I could hear him laughing as he ran away,” the faint voice called. “Laughing at Dain. He was saying — that if Dain was king, it was only right that he take him to where the king belonged. To Del.”

H
ad Ichabod been under orders to capture the heir? Or had it been his own idea to snatch Dain? There was no way of knowing. But of one thing Lief could be sure. He and his companions had done exactly what they had sworn not to do. They had led the Shadow Lord to the heir.

And another thing is certain, Lief thought, as he and the others dug their way out of the shelter that had become their prison. If Dain is being taken to Del, we must follow — alone, if necessary.

But there was no doubt in anyone’s mind. The seven tribes would remain united. At dawn, a party left for Del, Ailsa farewelling them tearfully. Doom had made his plans without delay.

“We will travel in small groups, far enough away from one another not to be seen,” he said. “This is our best chance of reaching Del unnoticed.”

“We will not reach it unnoticed if there is a spy within our ranks,” muttered Gla-Thon.

Doom’s face hardened. “No one is to be left alone for an instant, except for Steven, who will drive the caravan,” he snapped. “Does anyone wish to question Steven’s loyalty?”

Not surprisingly, no one dared do that.

The caravan went first, with Barda hidden inside. He was still weak, but he had refused to be left behind. On the right flank moved Manus and Nanion. On the left flank were Gla-Thon and Fardeep. Bringing up the rear were Doom, Zeean, and Glock. And in the center walked Lief and Jasmine, with Filli and Kree.

Lief still carried Dain’s dagger. It had been precious to Dain. It would be returned to him — that, Lief had sworn. The point of its blade was deeply stained. No matter what Lief did, it would not come clean.

Steven’s voice sounded as jolly as if he really was just a simple pedlar. But his message was clear. He could see the outskirts of Del. He was stopping to rest.

“Why must we stop?” Jasmine muttered crossly.

Lief glanced at her. “Because it was agreed we would,” he murmured. “Because we want to arrive in Del after dark. And we are tired. You sleep first.”

They had been moving by the road’s edge, where thick bushes gave plenty of cover. Lief watched as Jasmine settled herself for rest. He knew she would be asleep in moments. That was her way, no matter how uncomfortable the place, or how dangerous the time.

He sat with his back to a tree and touched the Belt, once again fastened around his waist. The Belt had halted Barda’s slow drift towards death. But how? Surely none of the gems had the power to cure weakness due to blood loss. Perhaps the diamond …

Quietly, he drew out
The Belt of Deltora
and found the section on the powers of the diamond.

†
Diamonds … give courage and strength, protect from pestilence, and help the cause of true love.

Still Lief was unsatisfied. Restlessly, he skimmed the pages, glancing at phrases here and there. A few he had forgotten. Most were very familiar to him.

†
The amethyst … calms and soothes. It changes color in the presence of illness, loses color near poisoned food or drink …

†
The topaz protects its wearer from the terrors of the night. It has the power to open doors into the spirit world. It strengthens and clears the mind …

† The emerald … dulls in the presence of evil, and when a vow is broken. It is a remedy for sores and ulcers, and an antidote to poison.

†
The great ruby … grows pale in the presence of evil, or when misfortune threatens its wearer. It wards off evil spirits, and is an antidote to snake venom.

† The opal … has the power to give glimpses of the future, and to aid those with weak sight … The opal has a special relationship with the lapis lazuli, the heavenly stone, a powerful talisman.

Suddenly impatient, Lief snapped the book closed. Jasmine stirred, then abruptly her eyes opened.

“I am sorry —” Lief began. But she shook her head.

“Something is coming,” she hissed, sitting up. “A horse-drawn wagon. Travelling away from Del.”

Soon Lief himself could hear the sound of plodding hooves and rumbling wheels. He peered through the bushes and, to his amazement, saw Steven’s caravan trundling towards them. There was no jingling sound, for the bells had been taken from the horse’s reins.

Steven was singing, but very, very softly. No one but people very near the road could have heard him. As he came closer, Lief could hear that he was crooning the same verse over and over again.

“It could be a trap,” Jasmine breathed. “He could be Ol.”

“I do not think so,” Lief whispered back. “He is calling us by the false names we used in Rithmere. Barda must have given them to him.”

“Glock knows them also!” Jasmine hissed. But already Lief was crawling out from the bushes. She sighed and clambered after him.

Steven saw them, smiled broadly, and stopped the caravan. “So there you are,” he said in a low voice, climbing down. “Into the back with Barda, quickly.”

“But this is not the plan!” Lief objected. “We are to meet with the others in the grove of trees outside the Del wall, just after dark. If we go with you now, we will arrive before sunset, and alone.”

“Indeed,” Steve nodded. “Barda will explain all to you. He and I have been talking. I opened a fresh jar of honey for him before we began our journey, and it seems to have done him good. See here!”

He flung the caravan doors wide. And there was Barda, sitting up and grinning.

“Barda! You are well!” Jasmine exclaimed.

Barda shrugged. “Not completely. I would not relish a fight with an Ol.” His grin broadened. “But I could certainly give a small pirate something to think about. Now, get in, quickly. We must be off.”

“Why?” demanded Lief, as he and Jasmine reluctantly obeyed.

“If we reach Del before sunset, Steven can drive straight in. He will look like any pedlar hurrying to reach home before the laws against being on the streets at night come into force,” Barda explained rapidly. “The gates are always crowded at that hour. The Guards will not bother to search the caravan. And standing with the other carts in the yard beside the market square, it will not be noticed. When it is dark, we can slip away.”

“But why change the plan?” Lief was confused.

A rueful expression crossed Barda’s face. “First, because the important thing is to get the Belt to Dain, wherever he may be imprisoned. The three of us, I believe, can do this better alone. Second —” He broke off.

“Second,” said Steven quietly, “we are both certain that there is a spy in our party. That spy may have a secret way of communicating with the Shadow Lord — a way no one would suspect. If so, our plan could already be known in Del. We could be moving into a trap. We cannot risk that. We cannot risk losing the Belt.”

“So we decided to go our own way,” said Barda. “Without telling another soul.”

“Not even Doom?” asked Jasmine, wide-eyed.

Again, Steven and Barda exchanged glances. “No,” said Steven soberly, closing the doors. “Not even Doom.”