Cavern Of Fear

13 - Gold and Scarlet

Deep, chill water. Holding him down. Up! Up! Breathe! His lungs almost bursting, Lief fought his way to the surface. He floundered there, taking great gulps of air, looking blindly around him through a blur of water

‘Barda!’ he shouted desperately.

Barda… Barda… Barda… Echoes answered him—a thousand echoes, calling and whispering from every direction.

There was a sudden splashing nearby. Dizzy with relief, Lief heard Barda gasping and coughing.

‘Barda! I am here!’ he called, struggling towards the sound.

Here… here… here…

As his eyes began to clear, Lief saw the shape of Barda’s head, dark against water that moved like pale, liquid gold. He saw the soft glow of gold all around him, gold shining from the walls of a vast cavern that seemed to have no beginning and no end.

Gold as the dragon’s eye, as the dragon’s scales. Gold as the great topaz.

This was the cavern through which Alyss fled in ages past. This was the place Jasmine had sought. The beginning of the underground way to the Shadowlands.

But the old tale had not mentioned one important detail. The cavern was flooded. And… Lief’s stomach turned over.

And Jasmine could not swim.

Through a haze of misery he saw Barda’s arm reach out and catch hold of something that was bobbing in the water beside him. For a terrifying moment Lief thought that it was a body. Then he realised that it was only a log of wood.

He looked up. The shimmering roof of the cavern curved high above him like a golden sky. The hole through which he and Barda had fallen was just a small, blurred patch of darkness. He could barely see it. There was no way he and Barda could reach it.

Barda paddled over to him, half leaning on the log. ‘This will keep us afloat for a while at least,’ he panted. ‘Until we find another way out. Or…’

Or what? Lief thought, as his companion’s voice faltered. Until finally the wood grows waterlogged, and sinks? Until we grow too exhausted to hold onto it any longer?

“The water may be more shallow further on,’ he said huskily. ‘Let us try.’

As he spoke, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Something small and dark was wriggling towards them through the rippling water. Lief could hardly believe his eyes when he recognised the tangle of flailing legs and angry red stare for what they were.

‘Fury!’ he exclaimed, as the spider reached the log.

Fury climbed laboriously from the water, still trailing a short length of chain. She reached the top of the log and crouched there glowering, the picture of rage.

Barda shook his head in disbelief. ‘I thought that at least I was rid of you, spider,’ he growled.

All the same, Fury’s appearance had cheered both of them. Supporting themselves on the log, they began to paddle slowly forward.

At first they spoke to one another, marvelling at the mysterious beauty of the place, even joking about Fury’s continued sulking. But as the hours passed the talk grew less, and at last they were silent.

It was the silence of exhaustion, cold, and the gradual disappearance of hope. Lief’s legs were numb. He no longer had the strength to paddle. He put his head down on the log, feeling its strange, spongy softness under his cheek.

‘Lief, hold on! You must not die…’

Barda’s voice seemed very far away. Lief could not answer. His mind was drifting, floating. As he was drifting on this shining water. As his reflection had floated on the surface of the dragon’s eye…

Lief swam slowly up from the depths of a fainting sleep with no idea of how much time had passed. He opened his eyes. And blinked.

The golden light had changed to scarlet. The very air seemed stained with red. He could hear the splashing of water, and had the sense of rapid movement.

Slowly it came to him that he was in the bottom of a boat. Barda was lying beside him. And sitting in the centre of the boat, dipping paddles into the water in fast and perfect time, were two strange-looking creatures.

Their bodies were small, but human. Probably, when they stood up, they would be about as tall as gnomes, though they were far less stockily built. But they seemed totally hairless, and their heads and faces were dog-like, with long muzzles and large pointed ears.

At first Lief thought they were dressed in red, and that their skin was red, too. Then he realised that this was an illusion caused by the scarlet glow. In fact, the creatures’ skin was deathly pale, with the softness common to crawling things that live beneath the earth.

Lief shuddered. These must be goblins, the ugly, spiteful creatures of old tales, though they did not look as he had imagined.

Unwilling to reveal that he had woken, he watched through half-closed eyelids as the goblins paddled silently, their pale eyes staring straight ahead.

It occurred to him that they were hurrying. There was urgency in their movements, in their set faces. It must have taken some time for them to load Lief and Barda into their boat. Now, it seemed, they were late, or in some kind of danger.

It was always said that goblins were creatures of evil will. Yet this pair had saved him and Barda from drowning, even though they could ill afford the delay.

Perhaps the goblins’ evil reputation was false. Perhaps the few Deltorans who had seen goblins in past ages had feared them simply because of their strange appearance.

But as the thought came to him, Lief felt for his sword. It was missing. He turned his head and saw that Barda’s sword, too, was gone. Squinting through the soft red light, he caught the glimmer of metal at the goblins’ feet.

He and Barda had been disarmed. Was this just caution on the goblins’ part? Or did it mean something more sinister?

A low, rasping sound, like rock grating on rock, echoed through the cavern. The goblins both paused, their ears quivering, their faces alert.

One murmured to the other. Then they both began paddling even faster. The rippling of the water against the boat grew louder as the craft picked up speed.

The rasping sound came again, there was a distant thundering crash and suddenly, shockingly, the nose of the boat rose sharply then dipped again. Lief gasped as cold water slopped over the sides and poured over him. Barda stirred and groaned.

The goblins glanced at them but did not stop paddling for a second. The boat rose and fell sickeningly once more. And now Lief could see great waves of red water heaving around them, clearly visible over the sides of the boat and becoming larger every moment.

It was as though they were caught in a storm, yet there was no wind. There was only that menacing rasping noise and the dull thundering that was growing louder, and which Lief now recognised as the sound of waves crashing on land.

Land!

He tried to sit up, but fell back again immediately as the boat rose over yet another wave, and slid down the other side. Wallowing in cold, foaming water he struggled to get up again.

‘Be still!’ cried one of the goblins angrily.

He and his companion were almost knee-deep in swirling water, but still they were paddling with the same fierce concentration as before. Huge red waves were towering over the boat on all sides now, but the goblins looked only ahead, their long noses twitching, their pale eyes staring short-sightedly.

And then, quite suddenly, came a sound and a feeling that made Lief shout with relief. The bottom of the boat was scraping on land.

The goblins threw down their paddles, leaped into the water and began dragging the boat out of the waves, calling for help.

Bruised, shaken and shivering, Lief and Barda crawled to their knees. The goblins were pulling the boat onto muddy land that rose out of the swirling water. Other boats were nearby, tied to what at first seemed strangely-shaped trees, but which Lief soon realised were huge, branching scarlet fungus.

Dazed, Lief looked around him, trying to take in what he was seeing. Hills of red and brown fungus trees, a few nearest the water broken or uprooted by the force of the waves. Orderly fields where rows of some sort of crop showed above streaming water. And beyond the mud of the shore, a village. Waves had crashed over the low wall that surrounded it, and the streets were flooded.

Several goblins were running from the village, crying out in relief and welcome. Lief and Barda’s rescuers, whose names seemed to be Clef and Azan, had plainly been anxiously awaited.

But at the sight of Lief and Barda, there was even greater rejoicing, and eager hands helped them out of the boat.

‘Get them to safety, quickly,’ said Azan, bending to retrieve the swords from behind the boat’s seat.

Jostled in the centre of the group, Lief and Barda were hurried towards the village. As they reached the wall the rasping sound came again, this time rising to a high, harsh note that was painful to the ears.

To Lief’s surprise, the goblins slowed, and their tense faces relaxed a little. After a moment, he realised that waves were no longer crashing against the walls. The crisis, it seemed, was over. At least for the moment.

They entered the village and began splashing through empty, flooded streets lined with dwellings.

The houses were all dark red or brown. Many had been damaged by the storm. In other cases, doors had simply burst open, allowing water to stream into the rooms beyond. Brightly painted bowls and pots, small pieces of furniture, even bedding and clothes, drifted in the flood.

Clef peered angrily from side to side as they hurried though street after street. ‘This is worse than ever I have seen it!’ he growled at last. ‘Why has Worron not proceeded with the Giving?’

‘There has not been time,’ the goblin beside him said nervously. ‘The ceremony of preparation had to be begun again for the new Gift, and it is not yet completed.’

‘What does that matter?’ called Azan from behind.

‘That last call was the final warning. Are ceremonies more important than our lives?’

Barda gave a muffled exclamation. Lief glanced at him quickly.

But Barda had not been listening. He was looking over the goblins’ heads, towards an open space at the end of the village where a crowd had gathered.

In the centre of the space, clearly visible as the crowd surged forward to greet the newcomers, was a tall cage. It was backed by a high wall and surrounded by a complicated pattern of red stones.

And standing inside the cage, their hands bound behind their backs, were Glock and Jasmine.