The Forests of Silence

It was dim inside the circle. The golden arrowheads of the budding Lilies were the only glimmer of warm color. Everything else was dark brown, or dull green.

Lief and Barda stood, helpless, before the knight. They could not move. They could not fight or run.

Gorl raised his sword higher.

I must prepare for death, Lief thought. But he could only think of the Belt around his waist. If he was killed here, the Belt would lie forgotten with his bones. The gems would never be restored to it. The heir to the throne of Deltora would never be found. The land would remain under the Shadow forever.

It must not be! he thought wildly. But what can I do?

Then he heard Barda begin to speak.

“You wear the armor of a knight, Gorl,” Barda said. “But you are not a true knight. You do not fight your enemies with honor.”

Are things not bad enough, Barda? thought Lief, in terror. Why do you risk making him even more angry than he is?

But Gorl hesitated, his great sword wavering in his hand. “I must protect the Lilies of Life,” he said sullenly. “I knew my destiny the moment I saw their golden nectar dropping from their petals, long ago.”

“But you were not alone when you saw this, were you, Gorl?” Barda demanded, his voice strong and bold. “You would not have come alone on a quest to the Forests of Silence. You had companions.”

He is trying to turn Gorl’s mind from us, Lief thought, suddenly understanding. He hopes that Gorl’s hold over us will weaken, if he begins to think of other things.

“Gorl, what happened to your companions?” Barda demanded.

The knight’s head jerked aside, as if Barda had dealt him a blow. “My companions — my two brothers — ran towards the Lilies,” he muttered. “And …”

“And you killed them!”

Gorl’s voice rose to a loud, high whine. “I had to do it!” he wailed. “I could not share with them! I needed a whole cup of the nectar for myself. They should have known that.”

He lowered his head and began pacing the circle, mumbling to himself. “While my brothers fought me, trying to save themselves, the Lilies wilted, and the nectar fell to waste in the mud. But I did not despair. The Lilies were mine, and mine alone. All I had to do was wait until they bloomed again.”

Lief’s heart leapt as he felt the iron bands of the knight’s will loosening, letting him move freely again. Barda’s idea was working. Gorl’s mind was now far away from them. He glanced at his companion and saw that Barda was reaching for his sword.

Gorl had his back to them now, and was stroking the leaves and stems of the twisting vines with his armored hand. He seemed almost to have forgotten that anyone was with him. “As the new buds rose from the mud, I raised my wall around them, to protect them from intruders,” he was muttering. “I did my work well. Never would the vines have grown so strong without my care.”

Barda made a silent signal to Lief, and together they began to creep towards Gorl, their swords at the ready. They both knew that they would only have one chance. It could not be a fair fight. They had to take the knight by surprise and kill him, before he could bind them to his will again. Otherwise they were lost, as so many had been lost before them.

Gorl was still talking to himself, stroking the vine leaves. “I have cut the branches from the trees that dared to resist my vines,” he mumbled. “I have fed the vines with the bodies of the enemies — man, woman, bird, or beast — who dared to approach them. And I have kept my treasures safe. I have waited long for them to bloom. But surely my time has nearly come.”

Barda lunged forward with a mighty shout. His sword found its mark — the thin, dark gap between the knight’s helmet and body armor — and he pushed it home.

But to Lief’s horror, the knight did not fall. With a low growl, he turned, pulling Barda’s sword from the back of his neck and throwing it aside. And then, as Lief cried out in shock and fear, slashing uselessly at his armor, his metal-clad hand darted out like a striking snake, catching Barda by the neck and forcing him to his knees.

“Die, thief!” he hissed. “Die slowly!” And he plunged his sword into Barda’s chest.

“NO!” Lief shouted. Through a red haze of grief and terror, he saw Gorl pull his sword free and kick Barda to the ground with a grunt of contempt. He saw the big man groaning in agony, his life ebbing away into the roots of the vines. And then he saw Gorl turn to him and felt the iron grip of the knight’s will clamp his very bones.

Frozen to the spot, he waited for death as Gorl raised the bloodstained sword again.

And then …

“GORL! GORL!”

From high above them came the cry — as high and wild as a bird’s.

Gorl’s head jerked backwards as he looked up with a growl of startled fury.

Lief, too, looked up, and with a shock saw that it was Jasmine who was calling. She was swinging from the very top of one of the great trees, peering down at them through the gap in the roof of vines. Kree hovered above her head, his black wings spread over her head as if to protect her.

“You have made good into evil in this place, with your jealousy and spite, Gorl!” Jasmine shouted. “You have bound and enslaved the trees and killed the birds — and all to guard something that is not yours!” With her dagger she began slashing at the vines that covered the clearing. Tattered leaves began to fall like green snow.

With a roar of rage Gorl raised his arms. Lief felt his limbs freed as the knight turned all his power upwards — towards the new intruder.

“Run, Lief!” Jasmine shrieked. “To the center! Now!”

There was a great cracking, tearing sound from above. Lief leapt for safety, flinging himself into the mud at the center of the clearing just as the earth behind him shuddered with a mighty crash that echoed like rolling thunder.

For what seemed a long time he lay still, his eyes tightly closed, his head spinning, his heart hammering in his chest. Then at last he became aware of a soft, pattering on his back, and a feeling of warmth. Gasping, he crawled to his knees and turned.

His eyes, so long accustomed to the dimness, squinted against the bright sunlight that poured into the clearing from the open sky above. The roof of vines had been torn through, and leaves and stems still pattered down like rain. Where he and Gorl had stood together only minutes before lay the reason for the damage — a great fallen branch. And beneath the branch was a mass of crushed golden armor.

Lief stared, unable to believe what had happened so suddenly. The Belt grew hot against his skin. He looked down and saw Gorl’s sword, lying right in front of him. Almost absent-mindedly, he picked it up. The topaz in the hilt shone clear gold. So, he thought dreamily, the first gem to be found was the topaz — the symbol of faithfulness.

Suddenly his mind cleared. His eyes searched for, and then found, the still, pale figure of Barda, lying at the edge of the clearing. He jumped up and ran to him, kneeling down beside him, calling his name.

Barda did not stir. He still breathed, but very weakly. The terrible wound in his chest was still bleeding. Lief opened the jacket and shirt, tried to clean the wound, tried to stop the blood with his cloak. He had to do something. But he knew it was useless. It was too late.

He barely looked up as Jasmine leapt lightly down beside him. “Barda is dying,” he said drearily. There was a terrible pain in his chest. A terrible sense of loss and loneliness and waste.

“Lief!” he heard Jasmine gasp. But still he did not move.

“Lief! Look!” She was pulling at his arm. Reluctantly he raised his head.

Jasmine was staring at the center of the clearing. Her face was filled with awe. Lief spun around to see what she was looking at.

The Lilies of Life were blooming. The golden arrows that were their buds had opened in the sunlight so long denied them. Now they were golden trumpets, their petals spread joyously, drinking in the light. And from the center of the trumpets a rich gold nectar was welling, overflowing, pouring in a sweet-smelling stream down to the black mud.