Cavern Of Fear

2 - Dangerous Times

As soon as Lief entered his bed chamber, he sensed that danger lurked within it. He glanced down at the Belt of Deltora. Light from the candle he held flickered on the gems set in their medallions of steel.

The rich red of the great ruby, the glowing green of the emerald, had dimmed. The Belt was warning him.

Lief’s stomach tightened. He drew his sword. His tired eyes searched the shadows.

He saw nothing. The room looked exactly as it had when he left it that morning. The barred windows were bare, and there was no trailing cover on the bed. Everything that could have concealed an enemy had been removed weeks ago.

Yet there was danger. He knew it.

He moved forward cautiously, ears straining for the slightest sound. The moon, sinking in the sky as dawn approached, cast its light into the room. The shadows of the window bars fell darkly across the bed.

Lief set the candle on the bedside cabinet. He stretched out his hand and, with one sharp movement, stripped the blanket from the bed. The white sheets and pillow gleamed unmarked in the moonlight.

‘Show yourself!’ he muttered.

Nothing stirred. He looked around the room again, his thoughts raging. What use was a king who was a prisoner of his own fears? Who could not do what his people most wanted him to do?’

He froze as a faint piping sound, a single note, piercingly sweet, filled his mind. The sound lasted for only a brief moment. Then it was gone.

Lief shook his head to clear it. The sound had come to him before. Once in the library, once here in his bed chamber only a week or two ago.

He had mentioned it to no-one. His mother and friends were already worried enough about him. If he had ringing in his ears, it was because he needed rest. And he could not afford to rest. Not until…

But he could not hide away from the people for too much longer. The calls for an attempt to rescue the Shadowlands slaves were becoming louder. Soon the people would begin to feel that their hidden king cared nothing for them. Slowly their trust in him would grow less, and at last vanish altogether.

Lief knew this as well as he knew his own name. His own father, kept away from the people, had lost their trust. That was how the gems had been stolen from the Belt, and the Shadow Lord had triumphed.

He gripped his sword more tightly. It will not happen to me, he told himself. Why else have I been working day and night, but to find a way out of this trap? Tomorrow…

At the thought of the morrow, he looked longingly at the bed. Perhaps, after all, his nerves had been playing tricks on him.

At that very moment, he heard a tiny scratching, so faint that he was not sure it was real. It seemed to have come from right beside him.

Slowly he slid the point of his sword into the edge of the smooth, white pillow. Gently he tilted the pillow upward.

And there, crouching beneath it, was a Plains scorpion, purple striped with black, and as big as a man’s fist. Alerted by the sudden movement, the scorpion reared up, its deadly stinging tail curved to strike.

With a shout, Lief flicked the pillow out of the way. Feathers exploded from its torn side as he smashed the flat of his sword down onto the bed. The scorpion, half-crushed, still struggled to attack. Panting, shuddering with disgust, Lief hammered it again and again, till finally it was still.

The door flew open and Doom, sword in hand, burst into the room. He stopped, staring at the oozing purple mass that stained the white sheet.

Lief sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Feathers drifted around him, settling on his hair and shoulders. He tried to smile. ‘I had a visitor,’ he said.

‘What is happening?’ Jasmine was standing in the doorway. Kree, the black bird who was her constant companion, fluttered behind her. The small furred creature she called Filli blinked sleepily on her shoulder.

Jasmine’s green eyes were gleaming as brightly as the dagger in her hand. She moved into the room, taking in the situation at a glance.

‘A Plains scorpion,’ she said grimly. ‘That certainly did not come here of its own accord. But how—?’

‘Go back to bed, Jasmine,’ Lief broke in. ‘I am sorry you were woken. All is well.’

‘All is well?’ exclaimed Jasmine. ‘Lief, if you had put your head on that pillow…’

Lief shrugged. ‘Fortunately, I did not.’ He did not say how nearly he had done so.

Jasmine went to the window and tugged at the bars. They came away in her hand.

‘The bars have been sawn through, then replaced!’ she said. ‘So that is how the assassin entered.’ She glanced at the sky and her eyes narrowed.

Lief exchanged glances with Doom. They both knew what Jasmine was thinking, now that her first alarm had passed. What had Lief been doing all night, that he should come to his bed chamber for the first time as dawn approached?

‘I have been wakeful, but I feel tired now,’ Lief said. That, at least, was true, he thought ruefully. He ached for sleep. He pulled the stained sheet from the bed. He would lie on the bare mattress and be glad of it.

‘We will leave you in peace, then,’ said Doom, moving to the door.

Jasmine knew the words were meant for her. The man they all still called Doom was her father, but over the past weeks he had become as hard to talk to as Lief himself. Every day he was surrounded by people. Every night he disappeared on mysterious business of which Jasmine knew nothing.

He left the room, but Jasmine made no move to follow. This was the first time she had seen Lief alone in weeks. She was determined to speak to him.

But Lief would not look at her. He began to unlace his boots. ‘I must have a few hours rest, Jasmine,’ he said pointedly. ‘We leave for Tora in the morning.’

‘Tora?’ Jasmine stared at him, thunderstruck. ‘Lief, you cannot leave Del now! People are clamouring to see you. You cannot run away!’

‘I do only what I must,’ Lief muttered. ‘If you choose to think of it as running away, I cannot stop you.’

Filled with unbelieving rage, Jasmine stormed out of the room. She heard the door close behind her, and the key turn in the lock.

The hallway was deserted. Doom had returned to his bed chamber, and no-one else had stirred.

Suddenly Jasmine felt suffocated. She longed for the open air.

She hurried to the great staircase and began to run down, her bare feet making no sound on the cool marble of the floor. If only she had someone to talk to! But she did not.

Barda had taken troops to the city of Noradz, to free the people from their cruel leaders, the Ra-Kacharz, and to collect food for the hungry of Del. Jasmine would have gone with him, but the Noradz people feared Filli, and she could not leave Filli behind. So she had stayed.

Sharn and Doom were always busy. And Lief seemed to have lost all trust in her. He kept secrets he would not share. And now he was running away altogether, to Tora, the great city of the west.

Certainly, he would be safe there. No evil could survive in Tora, which was guarded by its own magic. But surely he did not believe he could hide forever?

Or perhaps he did. Lief had changed. The old Lief, the Lief Jasmine knew, was brave, and eager for action. She was not sure that she liked the new Lief—the secretive, prudent, kingly one—at all.

She reached the ground floor, and the burly guards at the bottom of the stairs moved aside to let her pass. If they thought it odd that she was up so early, they did not say so. In truth, Jasmine thought grimly, they probably expected her to act strangely.

Many tales were told of Jasmine. How she was a fearless fighter who had grown up alone in the dreaded Forests of Silence and could speak to trees and birds. How her mother had died in the Shadowlands. How her father had been injured so badly as to lose his memory, but had escaped to return to Deltora and become Doom, the feared leader of the Resistance.

Uncomfortably aware of the guards’ curious eyes upon her, Jasmine threaded her way between the huddled bodies of the hundreds of people who slept on the floor of the vast entrance hall.

The people came seeking help and, above all, hope. All day they waited patiently in line to see Sharn and her helpers. When night came they slept where they had been standing, so as not to lose their places. Many had been there for weeks.

Jasmine moved carefully, hoping that no-one would wake. She dreaded meeting the eyes of those whose loved ones were in the Shadowlands. What could she say to them?

I am sorry. The king says we can do nothing.

The thought of the slaves filled Jasmine with shuddering horror. The loss of freedom was to her worse than death.

With relief she reached the huge entrance doors and slipped outside into the dawn. A lone horseman was approaching the palace at a gallop. As he came closer, Jasmine saw, to her surprise and joy, that it was Barda.

She ran to greet him as he pulled the horse to a halt, but stopped short when she saw the grim lines creasing his tired face.

‘Barda, what is wrong?’ she exclaimed.

‘I bring bad news,’ Barda said shortly. ‘Noradz is empty. The food has been destroyed. And all the people have been taken—to the Shadowlands.’