The Forests of Silence

Stunned by what he had just heard, Lief stared at his father. It was as if he were seeing him with new eyes. “You once lived in the palace? You were the king’s friend? You — I cannot believe this! I will not believe it!”

His father smiled grimly. “You must believe it, my son.” His fists clenched. “Why else do you think we have lived so quietly all these years, tamely obeying every order given to us, never rebelling? Many, many times I have been tempted to do otherwise. But I knew that we had to avoid drawing the enemy’s attention to us.”

“But — but why have you never told me before?” Lief stammered.

“We thought it best to keep silent until now, Lief.” It was his mother who had spoken. She stood by the fire looking at him gravely.

“It was so important, you see, that no word reached the ears of the Shadow Lord,” she went on. “And until you were ten your father believed that he himself would be the one who would go to seek the gems of Deltora, when the time came. But then —”

She broke off, glancing at her husband sitting in his armchair, his injured leg stuck stiffly out in front of him.

He smiled grimly. “Then the tree fell, and I had to accept that this could not be,” he finished for her. “I can still work in the forge — enough to earn our bread — but I cannot travel. And so, Lief, the task is left to you. If you are willing.”

Lief’s head was spinning. So much that he had believed had been overturned in one short hour.

“The king was not killed after all,” he mumbled, trying to take it in. “He escaped, with the queen. But why did the Shadow Lord not find them?”

“When we reached the forge the king and queen made themselves look like ordinary working people,” his father said. “In haste we discussed the plan for escape while outside the wind howled and the darkness of the Shadow Lord deepened over the land. And then we parted.”

His face was furrowed with grief and memory. “We knew that we might never meet again. Endon had realized by then that by his foolishness and blindness the people’s last trust in him had been destroyed. The Belt would never again shine for him. All our hopes rested with his unborn child.”

“But — how do you know that the child was born safely and is still alive, Father?” Lief blurted out.

His father heaved himself to his feet. He took off the old brown belt that he always wore at his work. It was strong and heavy, made of two lengths of leather stitched together. He cut the stitching at one end with his knife and pulled out what was hidden inside.

Lief caught his breath. Sliding from the leather tube was a fine steel chain linking seven steel medallions. Even plain and without ornament, it was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He longed to touch it. Eagerly he held out his hands.

“I mended it, making it ready to receive the gems once more, before I hid it away,” his father said, handing it to him. “But so closely is it bound to the blood of Adin that it would have crumbled into pieces if the heir was no more. As you see, it is still whole. So we can be sure that the heir lives.”

In wonder, Lief gazed at the marvelous thing in his hands — the dream Belt made by the great Adin himself. How many times had he read of it in The Belt of Deltora, the small, pale blue book his father had given him to study? He could hardly believe that he was actually holding it.

“If you agree to go on the quest, my son, you must put the Belt on and never let it out of your sight until it is complete,” he heard his mother say. “Are you willing? Think carefully before you answer.”

But Lief had already made his decision. He looked up at his waiting parents, his eyes sparkling.

“I am willing,” he said firmly. Without hesitation he clasped the Belt around his waist, under his shirt. It felt cool against his skin. “Where must I go to find the gems?” he asked.

His father, suddenly drawn and pale, sat down again and stared at the fire. “Preparing for this moment we have listened to many travelers’ tales,” he said at last. “I will tell you what we know. Prandine said that the gems were scattered, hidden in places no one would dare to find them.”

“That means, I suppose, that they lie in places people would be afraid to go,” Lief said.

“So I fear.” His father picked up a parchment from the table beside his chair and began slowly to unfold it. “Seven Ak-Baba were flying together around the palace tower on the day the gems were taken,” he went on. “They separated and flew off in different directions. We believe that each was carrying one of the gems, and each was going to one particular place to hide it. See here. I have drawn a map.”

His heart beating like a drum in his chest, Lief leaned over to look as his father pointed out one name after the other.

“The Lake of Tears,” Lief read. “City of the Rats. The Shifting Sands. Dread Mountain. The Maze of the Beast. The Valley of the Lost. The Forests of Silence …” His voice faltered. The very names filled him with fear, particularly the last.

The terrible tales he had heard of the Forests not far to the east of Del flooded Lief’s mind, and for a moment the map blurred before his eyes.

“Over the years, different travelers have told of seeing a lone Ak-Baba hovering above one or another of these seven places on the day the Shadow Lord came,” his father was saying. “They are where you must search for the gems, we are sure of it. Little is known of them, but all of them have evil reputations. The task will be long and perilous, Lief. Are you still willing?”

Lief’s mouth felt dry. He swallowed, and nodded.

“He is so young!” his mother burst out. She bent her head and hid it in her hands. “Oh, I cannot bear it!”

Lief spun around to her and threw his arm around her neck. “I want to go, Mother!” he exclaimed. “Do not weep for me.”

“You do not know what you are promising!” she cried.

“Perhaps I do not,” Lief admitted. “But I know that I would do anything — anything in my power — to rid our land of the Shadow Lord.”

He turned from her to look back at his father. “Where is the heir?” he demanded excitedly. “That, at least, you know for certain, Father, for you suggested the hiding place.”

“Perhaps I did,” his father said quietly. “But I must not endanger our cause by telling you of it. The heir is powerless without the Belt, and must remain in deepest hiding until it is complete. You are young and impatient, Lief, and the road ahead of you is hard. You might give way to temptation and seek out the heir before your quest is done. I cannot risk that.”

Lief opened his mouth to argue, but his father held up his hand, shaking his head. “When the gems are all in place the Belt will lead you to the heir, my son,” he said firmly. “You must wait until then.”

He half smiled as Lief sighed with frustration. Then he bent down and drew something from under his chair.

“Perhaps this will cheer you,” he said. “It is my birthday gift to you.”

Lief stared at the slender, shining sword in his father’s hand. Never had he expected to own such a blade.

“I made it on our own forge,” his father said, giving the sword to him. “It is the finest work I have ever done. Care for it well, and it will care for you.”

As Lief nodded, spluttering his thanks, he be came aware that his mother, too, was holding out a gift. It was a finely woven cloak — soft, light, and warm. Its color seemed to change as it moved so that it was hard to tell if it was brown, green, or grey. Somewhere between all three, Lief decided at last. Like river-water in autumn.

“This, too, will care for you, wherever you may go,” his mother whispered, pressing the cloak into his hands and kissing him. “The fabric is — special. I used every art I knew in its making, and wove much love and many memories into it, as well as strength and warmth.”

Her husband stood up and put his arm around her. She leaned against him lovingly, but tears shone in her eyes.

Lief looked at them both. “You never doubted that I would agree to go on this quest,” he said quietly.

“We knew you too well to doubt it,” his mother answered, trying to smile. “I was sure, as well, that you would want to start at once. Food and water for the first few days of your journey are already packed and waiting. You can leave within the hour, if you wish.”

“Tonight?” gasped Lief. His stomach turned over. He had not thought it would be so soon. And yet almost immediately he realized that his mother was right. Now that the decision had been made, he wanted nothing more than to begin.

“There is one thing more,” his father said, limping to the door. “You will not be alone on your quest. You will have a companion.”

Lief’s jaw dropped. Were the surprises of this night never to end?

“Who —?” he began.

“A good friend. The one man we know we can trust,” his father answered gruffly. He swung the door open.

And, to Lief’s horror, into the room shuffled Barda, the beggar.