The Lake of Tears

Floundering, 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.