19 - The Hand of Fate

The island had been battered mercilessly by The Fear’s rage. But the Plumes were singing as their boats carried Lief, Barda, Jasmine and Glock to the shore, skimming over the water like brown leaves swept by the wind.

And as the boats landed, the song rose in joy until it seemed to fill the vast cavern. The words echoed from the glowing walls, rolling in waves of beauty over the scarlet sea.


Above our land the tumult rages

Struggle echoes through the ages

There the strife may never cease

But here below we dwell in peace.

Where timeless tides swamp memory,

Our sunless prison makes us free.

The gem-glow lights our rocky walls,

And dragons guard our shining halls.

‘It is not a song of death, but of life,’ said Jasmine softly as the last, pure notes drifted on the air. ‘I knew it was so.’

Lief and Barda glanced at her curiously, but did not question her. Her eyes were fixed on the boat which Nols herself had guided—the boat in which Glock’s body lay, shrouded in scarlet.

‘So Glock will remain here,’ Jasmine sighed. ‘It seems strange…’

‘Your friend will be honoured among us,’ said Nols, stepping forward and putting her small hand on Jasmine’s arm. ‘He will lie with the Pipers of Plume, and never be forgotten.’

Jasmine thought for a moment, then smiled slightly. ‘Glock would like that,’ she said. ‘He would like to take his place with chiefs.’

Nols bowed. ‘Our debt to him, and to you, can never be repaid. We have little enough to give, but whatever we have is yours. Boats for your journey. Food. Light, as far as we are able to supply it…’ She paused, waiting.

Lief took a deep breath. This was the opportunity he had been hoping for, but now that it had come he almost feared to take it.

‘There is one thing which only you can give us,’ he said slowly. ‘It is a treasure we dearly need—though only for a time. The mouthpiece of the Pirran Pipe.’

Nols stepped back, a stricken look on her face. The people behind her murmured and whispered.

Dismayed, Lief glanced quickly at Barda and Jasmine. Barda was frowning in angry disbelief. Jasmine, who still knew nothing of the Pirran Pipe, was simply confused.

‘I know we ask a great deal,’ Lief said, keeping his voice steady with difficulty. ‘But I beg you to consider our request. If we are to save our people from the Shadow Lord we must make the Pipe whole again. It is the one thing the Shadow Lord fears. The one thing that may give us time to—’

Nols held up her hand to stop him. ‘You do not understand,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘It is not that we will not give you the mouthpiece of the Pipe. It is that we cannot. It was lost long ago.’

It was like a blow to the pit of Lief’s stomach. He stared at Nols, unable to speak.

‘Not lost—stolen!’ said Worron’s sharp voice. He stepped forward, still an imposing figure in the long red robe and scarlet headpiece he had not yet put aside. ‘The symbol of the Piper’s leadership was stolen from the people by the Seven Traitors—the wicked ones who left the safety of our seas for the world above.’

‘It was in ancient times, when the Plumes’ time in the world below the world had not been long,’ said Nols, more quietly. ‘The people of those days were not accustomed to the caverns, as we are. It is written that the rebels planned to find a place of safety, then return and lead the Plumes back into the sun. But they never returned’

She sighed. ‘Doran the Dragonlover told our ancestors that they had all lost their lives. He knew a tale of it. It was an old tale often told, he said, by the members of a savage Longhair tribe called Jalis, whose own ancestors had done the killing.’

‘Yes.’ Worron’s eyes narrowed maliciously. ‘The Seven Traitors were destroyed, and the mouthpiece of the Pipe with them, no doubt. So if the Pipe is what you have come here to seek, Longhairs, your journey, your time, and your friend’s life, have all been wasted.’

Into Lief’s mind came the memory of Glock grinning over a mug of ale. Glock, the last of the Jalis. His eyes suddenly burned with tears, and he looked quickly away.

He saw that Jasmine had taken the little cloth bag from her neck, and was opening it. Plainly she, too, was thinking of Glock.

Lief turned back to Worron. ‘It is our loss, certainly, that the three pieces of the Pipe cannot be joined once more,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. ‘But The Fear is dead, Worron. The Plumes are free of it. So nothing has been wasted.’

‘Indeed it has not,’ said Clef loudly. ‘We—’ He broke off, staring. Lief saw that Nols, too, was staring. And Worron. And all the Plumes crowding behind them.

But they were not staring at him. They were looking at Jasmine—or rather, at the dusty, oddly-shaped piece of wood that Jasmine was holding in the palm of her outstretched hand.

There was a moment’s stunned silence. Then Nols reached out and took the wooden object reverently. Slowly she crouched and dipped it into the water. The dust of centuries loosened and lifted away in a fine cloud. And when she stood up once more, the thing in her hands seemed to glow—a small miracle of shining wood and strange, carved patterns.

‘The mouthpiece of the Pirran Pipe!’ she whispered.

Worron’s mouth was opening and closing like the mouth of a fish. ‘Where—? Where—?’ he stuttered.

‘Glock had it all the time,’ Jasmine said calmly. ‘It was part of the talisman passed down to him by his family. He had no idea it was anything more than a lucky charm. Neither did I, until a few moments ago—and even then I only suspected the truth.’

Wisely, she said no more. She wanted Glock buried in state with the Pipers of Plume. She knew better than to admit how his ancestors had come by the object that the crowd was pressing forward to see.

Nols’ face was alight with joy. ‘It is a miracle!’ she cried. ‘Our treasure has been returned to us. Now we can pay our debt to you.’

Lief, looking down at her beaming face and at the joyous faces clustered around her, wondered how he ever could have thought these people were ugly. He wondered, too, at the chance that had brought the mouthpiece of the Pirran Pipe back to its rightful owners.

And, finally, he wondered if it was not chance at all, but something else.

He turned to Barda, who was still staring at the gleaming mouthpiece in amazement. ‘We have reached our first goal, Barda,’ he murmured. ‘And the way is open to our second. According to the map, the island of Auron is next.’

Barda shook his head slowly. ‘First we must find our way back to Del. Doom is waiting for us there, with supplies, fighters—’

‘No!’ cried Jasmine fiercely. ‘There can be no delay! Time is running out! We must—’

She broke off as Lief and Barda turned to her.

‘Why do you say this, Jasmine?’ Barda demanded.

Jasmine wet her lips. ‘I heard… heard that the Shadow Lord was going to kill the prisoners. Very soon.’

‘Birds told you this?’ Lief asked sharply.

Jasmine hesitated. It was not in her nature to lie. But she did not want Lief to know that she had entered the sealed room, that she had spoken to the sister he had tried to keep from her.

She knew she could not bear to see the look on his face as he tried to deny, or explain, his deceit and betrayal of trust. She preferred to put it out of her mind. To focus on the task at hand. To lose her thoughts in action.

So she pressed her lips together, and nodded.

‘Then we must go on—the three of us,’ said Lief instantly.

‘No!’ Barda growled. ‘You, at least, cannot—’

‘I can,’ said Lief firmly. ‘And I think it was always meant that I should.’

‘But you are Deltora’s king!’ cried Jasmine. Lief was saying just what she had wanted him to say. Yet, suddenly, she found herself filled with doubt.

Lief met her anxious gaze squarely. ‘I have thought of this long and hard,’ he said. ‘I am the king, but I am still Lief. I must do what I must do.’

‘No!’ Barda protested, but Lief shook his head.

‘I cannot be a prisoner,’ he said. ‘That is what happened to the kings and queens of our past, and it was their ruin. It was not what Adin intended when he created the Belt of Deltora. He—’

Feeling a light touch on his arm, he turned to see Nols looking up at him.

‘I asked Azan to arrange sleeping quarters for you, on the high ground, where it is still dry,’ Nols said. ‘Your wounds must be tended, and you must rest. Ah, Azan!’ She smiled welcome at the young Plume who was running, panting, towards her. ‘Is all well?’

Azan shook his head, his face furrowed with anxiety. ‘No! I fear—I fear all is not well,’ he stammered. ‘The only dry sleeping quarters have been overtaken by two hideous monsters, the like of which I have never seen before.’

Nols looked alarmed. Azan looked piteously at Lief, Barda and Jasmine. ‘They are fearsome—as large as my head, with huge fangs, eight legs, and red eyes. And they are fighting with one another savagely, as though they will never stop!’ ‘

The companions glanced at one another. ‘I think we are familiar with the beasts,’ Barda said reluctantly. ‘Leave them to us.’

Azan’s face broke into a relieved smile. ‘I will take you to the house!’ he said eagerly, darting away.

‘Ah, what it is to have heroes among us!’ beamed Nols.

‘Indeed,’ said Lief glumly as he, Barda and Jasmine, with Kree fluttering overhead, trudged after Azan. ‘And if we can defeat The Fear, surely we can control Fury and Flash.’

‘I would not count on it,’ Barda muttered.

Jasmine turned to Lief. ‘What were you telling us, when Nols interrupted you?’ she asked.

Lief hesitated. He had thought again about what, in his excitement, he had been about to say. ‘Whatever it was, it does not matter,’ he lied. ‘If we three survived the quest to restore the gems to the Belt of Deltora, why should we not survive this?’

This will end in the Shadowlands,’ said Barda gravely. ‘And all depends on the Pirran Pipe. We have its first part by a miracle. What of the second and third?’

Lief turned to look back at The Glimmer, shining across the scarlet sea. What perils lay beyond that mysterious gateway? That he could not know. But as he looked, he heard again in his mind that clear, sweet music, beckoning him.

‘They are waiting for us,’ he said simply. ‘I know it. All we have to do—is find them.’

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