Deltora Quest #5: Dread Mountain (3 page)

A
t length, the gathering of the Kin broke up as each creature moved off to feed on the grass that grew beneath and beyond the trees.

“Grass is all we have here,” Prin’s mother explained to Lief, Barda, and Jasmine as she toiled away with her heavy young one in her pouch. “It is nourishing enough, but we have grown tired of its sweetness and long for the leaves and cones of the Boolong trees. The leaves of the trees in this grove are not fit to eat. They are not truly alive.”

Kree, perched on Jasmine’s arm, squawked in disgust. “Kree always knew the trees were not as they should be,” Jasmine said, shuddering as she looked around her. “No wonder they are silent. It is horrible to think of them standing here, unchanging, for centuries.”

“And it is fortunate for us that we passed the
spring’s test,” said Barda grimly. “Or we would be with them.”

Lief had not spoken for a long time. When the last of the Kin had departed Jasmine turned to him.

“What is the matter?” she demanded. “All is well.”

“All is not well,” Lief muttered. “My mother and father —” He broke off, swallowing desperately to hold back tears.

“Jarred and Anna?” Barda exclaimed, looking alert. “What do you …?” Suddenly his face changed, filling with fear as he understood. “You had a dream!” he exclaimed. “Lief —”

Lief nodded slowly. “The forge is empty,” he said in a low voice. “The Shadow Lord’s brand is on the gate. I think — I think they are dead.”

Stricken with shock and grief, Barda stared at him wildly. Then his mouth firmed. “Very likely they are not dead, but simply taken prisoner,” he said. “We must not give up hope.”

“To be a prisoner of the Shadow Lord is worse than death,” Lief whispered. “Father told me that, many times. He was always warning me …” The words choked in his throat and he covered his face with his hands.

Awkwardly, Jasmine put her arm around him and Filli jumped onto his shoulder, brushing his cheek with soft fur. Kree clucked sorrowfully. But Barda stood apart, struggling with his own fear and sorrow.

Finally Lief looked up. His face was very pale. “I must go back,” he said.

Barda shook his head. “You must not.”

“I must!” Lief insisted angrily. “How can I go on, knowing what I know?”

“You know nothing but that the forge is empty,” Barda said evenly. “Jarred and Anna could be in the dungeons of the palace in Del. They could be in the Shadowlands. They could be in hiding. Or, as you said before, they could be dead. Wherever they are, you cannot help them. Your duty is here.”

“Do not speak to me of duty!” Lief shouted. “They are my parents!”

“They are my friends,” Barda said, still in that same expressionless voice. “My dear and only friends, Lief, since before you were born. I know what they would say to you if they could. They would tell you that our quest is their quest too. They would beg you not to abandon it.”

Lief’s anger died, leaving dull sadness in its place. He searched Barda’s face and saw the pain behind the grim mask.

“You are right,” he mumbled. “I am sorry.”

Barda put a hand on his shoulder. “One thing is clear,” he said. “Time has become of the first importance. We must reach Dread Mountain with all speed.”

“I cannot see that we can move any faster than we have been doing,” Jasmine put in.

“On foot we cannot,” Barda agreed. “But I have a plan.” His face was shadowed with grief, but still he managed a small smile. “Why should the Kin dream of
home, instead of seeing it with their own eyes? Why should we walk, when we can fly?”

Barda talked to the Kin for a very long time. He argued well. But it was not until sunset that three of them finally agreed to carry the companions to Dread Mountain.

The three who agreed were Merin, Ailsa, and Bruna. They were among the largest in the group, and all were female, for only the female Kin had pouches in which to carry passengers.

All three agreed for different reasons: Merin because she was so homesick, Ailsa because she was adventurous, and Bruna because she felt that the Kin owed Lief a debt for trying to save Prin.

“She is very dear to us all,” Bruna explained. “The only young one to be born to us since we moved here from our Mountain.”

“This is because we need the Mountain air and the Boolong trees to thrive,” Merin cried. “Here, we just exist. On our Mountain, we can grow and breed. We should have gone back long ago.”

“Gone back to die? What foolishness you talk, Merin!” snapped the old one, who had been greatly angered by the three’s agreement to go. “If you, Ailsa, and Bruna go back in flesh and blood to Dread Mountain, you will surely be killed. Then there will be three less Kin, and we will have three more deaths to mourn.”

“What is the use of staying here to die slowly?” snapped Ailsa, lifting her great wings. “With no babies
to carry on our line, we have no future. The Kin are finished. I would rather die quickly, in a good cause, than linger here.”

“We have our dreams,” Prin’s mother said quietly.

“I am sick of dreaming!” Ailsa exclaimed.

“And I cannot dream at all!” squeaked Prin. She ran over to Ailsa and clasped her paws. “Take me with you to the Mountain, Ailsa,” she begged. “Then I too will have seen it. Then I can go with you when you dream.”

Ailsa shook her head. “You cannot come, Little One. You are too precious. But think of this: you can dream of us. Then you will see where we are, and what we are doing. Will that not be just as good as travelling yourself?”

Plainly, Prin did not think so, for she began to wail and cry, paying no attention to her mother’s orders and pleadings. At last her mother hurried her away, but even when they were out of sight, the sound of their arguing voices floated back through the trees. The other Kin looked distressed.

The old one frowned. “You see what you have done?” he mumbled to Barda, Lief, and Jasmine. “We were peaceful and happy here, before you came. Now there is anger between us and Little One is unhappy.”

“It is not fair to blame the strangers, Crenn,” Bruna objected. “Merin, Ailsa, and I have agreed to go to the Mountain of our own free will.”

“That is true,” said Merin gently. “And Little One is only saying what she has been saying these past few
years, Crenn. The older she grows, the more she will say it. Her life here, with no companions of her own age, is too quiet for her. She is very like Ailsa — lively and adventurous.”

“And she does not have dreams to lull her, as I have had,” Ailsa put in. Her bright eyes turned to Jasmine, Lief, and Barda. “I think I must thank the strangers for disturbing my peace,” she added. “This day has made me feel that I am alive again.”

Crenn sat very upright. His old face, the whiskers white, the eyes faded and full of longing, was turned to the Mountain. The sun had dipped below the horizon when at last he spoke.

“Of course you speak the truth, all of you,” he said reluctantly. “And if this must be, it must be. I only pray that you will be safe, and beg you to take care, and return to us with all speed.”

“We will,” Ailsa promised. She smiled around. “I will drink from the spring now, but not again this night. Then I will sleep only lightly. One of us must be awake to call the others tomorrow morning. We must leave before dawn.”

T
hat night, Lief dreamed again. He had planned for it, drinking deeply from the spring and thinking of his father and mother while he did so. If they are dead, then it is better to face it, he told himself. If they are alive, this is my chance to find out where they are.

As he and his companions prepared for sleep, the thought of what he was about to find out made him silent and tense. He said nothing to Barda and Jasmine but perhaps they guessed what he was planning, for they were equally silent, bidding each other good night, then saying no more. Lief was grateful. This was something he had to face alone, and speaking of it would not help.

Sleep did not come quickly. For a long time he lay awake, staring up at the sky. But at last the drowsiness caused by the spring water overcame him.

This time, the dream began almost at once.

The smell was what he noticed first — the smell of damp and decay. Then there were sounds — people groaning and crying somewhere not far away, their muffled voices echoing and ghostly. It was very dark.

I am in a tomb, he thought, with a thrill of terror. But then his eyes became used to the darkness and he saw that he was in a dungeon. A figure, head bowed, was sitting on the floor in a corner.

It was his father.

Completely forgetting that he was in the cell only in spirit, Lief called out, ran over to the slumped figure, and seized its arm. His hands went straight through the solid flesh. His father remained bowed in misery, plainly hearing and feeling nothing. Hot tears springing into his eyes, Lief called again. This time, his father stirred and raised his head. He looked straight at Lief, a slight, puzzled frown on his face.

“Yes, Father, yes! It is me!” Lief cried. “Oh, try to hear me! What has happened? Where is this place? Is Mother —?”

But his father was sighing deeply and bowing his head again. “Dreaming,” he murmured to himself.

“It is not a dream!” shouted Lief. “I am here! Father —”

His father’s head jerked up. A key was grating in the lock of the cell door. Lief swung around as the door creaked open. Three figures stood there — a tall, thin
man in long robes backed by two huge guards holding flaming torches. For a moment Lief was panic-stricken, convinced that his cries had been heard. But immediately he realized that the newcomers were as unaware of him as his father was.

“So, Jarred!” The man in the long robes took a torch from one of the guards and moved into the center of the cell. Lit by the flickering light of the flame, his face was sharp, the cheekbones deeply shadowed, the thin mouth cruel.

“Prandine!” breathed Lief’s father.

Lief’s heart thudded. Prandine? King Endon’s chief advisor, the secret servant of the Shadow Lord? But surely he was dead? Surely —

The man smiled. “Not Prandine, blacksmith,” he jeered. “The one called Prandine fell to his death from the tower of this very palace over sixteen years ago, on the day the Master claimed his kingdom. Prandine was careless — or unlucky. Perhaps you know something about that?”

“I know nothing.”

“We shall see. But where one dies, there is always another to take his place. The Master likes this face and form. He chose to repeat it in me. My name is Fallow.”

“Where is my wife?”

Lief caught his breath. The thin man sneered.

“Would it please you to know? Perhaps I will tell you — if you answer my questions.”

“What questions? Why have we been brought here? We have done nothing wrong.”

Fallow turned to the door, where the guards stood watching. “Leave us!” he ordered. “I will question the prisoner alone.”

The guards nodded, and withdrew.

As soon as the door was firmly closed, the thin man took something from the folds of his robe. A small pale blue book.

It was
The Belt of Deltora
, the book Jarred had found hidden in the palace library. The book Lief himself had so often studied as he grew up, and which had taught him so much about the power of the Belt and its gems.

Lief squirmed to see it in this man’s hands. He longed to snatch it away from Fallow, save his father from this cruel taunting. But he was powerless. All he could do was stand and watch.

“This book was found in your house, Jarred,” Fallow was saying. “How did it come there?”

“I do not remember.”

“Perhaps I can help you. It is known to us. It came from the palace library.”

“As a young man I lived in the palace. I may have taken it away with me when I left. It was many years ago. I do not know.”

Fallow tapped the book with bony fingers. The cruel smile never left his face.

“The Master thinks you have deceived us, Jarred,” he said. “He thinks you kept in contact with your foolish young friend, King Endon, and at the last helped him, his idiot bride, and their unborn brat to escape.”

Lief’s father shook his head. “Endon was fool enough to believe me a traitor,” he said in a low, even voice. “Endon would never have turned to me for help, nor would I have given it to him.”

“So we thought. But now we are not so sure. Strange things have been occurring in the kingdom, blacksmith. Things my Master does not like.”

Lief saw a sudden flash of hope in his father’s downturned eyes. He glanced quickly at Fallow. Had he seen it too?

He had. His own eyes were gleaming coldly as he went on.

“Certain allies, valued by the Master, have been viciously killed. Certain — goods — also valued by the Master have been stolen,” Fallow went on. “We suspect that King Endon is still alive. We suspect that he is making some last, useless effort to reclaim his kingdom. What do you know about that?”

“Nothing. Like everyone else in Del, I believe that Endon is dead. That is what we were told.”

“Indeed.” Fallow paused. Then he leaned forward so that his face and the lighted torch were very close to the man on the floor. “Where is your son, Jarred?” he spat.

Lief’s mouth went dry. He watched as his father looked up. His heart ached as he saw the deep lines of exhaustion, pain, and grief on the well-loved face that was so like his own.

“Lief left our house months ago. The blacksmith’s trade bored him. He preferred running wild with his friends in the city. We do not know where he is. Why do you ask about him? He broke his mother’s heart, and mine.”

Lief’s own heart swelled at his father’s courage. The voice was high and complaining — the voice of an injured parent, no more. His father, always so truthful, was lying as though he had been born to it, determined to protect his son, and his cause, at all costs.

Fallow was examining the despairing face closely. Was he deceived or not?

“It is said that a boy of about your son’s age is one of the three criminals who are roving the land, trying to overturn the Master’s plans,” he said slowly. “With him are a girl and a grown man. A black bird flies with them.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The man on the floor moved restlessly. He seemed to be merely impatient. But Lief, who knew him so well, could see that he had been listening intently. No doubt he was wondering furiously about this mention of a girl and a black bird. He knew nothing of Jasmine and Kree, or what had happened in the Forests of Silence.

“This boy,” Fallow went on, “could be your son. You are crippled, and may have sent him on some useless quest in your place. The man — could be Endon.”

Lief’s father laughed. The laugh sounded completely natural. As of course it would, Lief thought. It was absurd to think of Barda being mistaken for the delicate, cautious King Endon.

Fallow’s thin lips set in a hard line. He lowered the flame of the torch till it flickered dangerously in front of the laughing man’s eyes.

“Take good care, Jarred,” he snarled. “Do not try my patience too far. Your life is in my hands. And not only yours.”

The laughing stopped. Lief ground his teeth as he saw his father once again bow his head.

Fallow walked to the door. “I will be back,” he said in a low voice. “Think over what I have said. The next time I come to see you, I will come expecting answers. If you have done what we suspect, mere pain will not make you tell the truth. But perhaps the pain of one you love will be more persuasive.”

He lifted a fist and thumped on the door. It opened and he went through, banging it behind him. The key turned in the lock.

“Father!” Lief cried to the figure slumped against the wall. “Father, do not despair. We have four of the gems. And now we are going to Dread Mountain to find the fifth. We are moving as fast as we can!”

But his father sat motionless, staring unseeing into the darkness. “They are alive,” he whispered. “Alive, and succeeding!”

His eyes glowed. Chains rattled as he clenched his fists. “Oh, Lief, Barda — good fortune! I am fighting my fight here, as best I can. You must fight yours. My hopes and prayers go with you!”