The Shifting Sands

Lief fought down the panic that threatened to engulf him. The shadow of the Ak-Baba had turned the water black. He could no longer see the fish, but he could feel their weight. Dozens were now swimming above the cloak, cutting the companions off from the surface, pressing them down, down …

Lief’s head was spinning. He began to struggle, his chest aching with the need to breathe. Desperately he pushed at the cloak above his head, but the fish were clustered together so tightly on top of it that they were like a living, moving ceiling, impossible to break.

His struggles became more and more feeble. He could feel himself losing consciousness, his mind drifting away from his body.

Is this, then, how it ends? he thought. After all we have faced … A picture of his mother and father at home flashed through his mind. They would be breakfasting now, in the forge kitchen. Talking of him, perhaps, and of Barda.

They will never know what became of us, Lief thought. Our bones will lie in this mud forever, and with them the Belt of Deltora.

Dimly he became aware of urgent nudges on his legs and chest. The fish were bumping against him. They seemed to be trying to push him upwards. And — the fish above his head were moving aside.

With the last of his strength he forced his trembling legs to straighten. His head broke the surface and he took huge, grateful gulps of air.

At first he could see nothing. The cloak was still draped over his head, clinging to his face. Then it fell away and he was left blinking at Barda and Jasmine, who were as gasping and bedraggled as he.

In terror he looked up. But the Ak-Baba was well past the channel, flying steadily over the plain towards the plume of smoke on the horizon.

“It did not see us!” he croaked, coughing. “It passed us by.” He could not believe it.

“Of course,” Jasmine grinned, gathering the drifting cloak into a bundle. “When it looked down at the water it saw nothing but a school of fish. Fish that it had seen a hundred times before.”

She patted her hands on the rippling surface. “Ah, you were clever, fish,” she laughed. “You hid us well.”

The fish swam about her, lazily blowing bubbles. They seemed pleased with themselves.

“I thought they were trying to drown us,” said Barda. “And all the time they were disguising us from the Ak-Baba. Whoever heard of fish coming to anyone’s aid?”

“These are no ordinary fish,” Jasmine assured him. “They are old and wise. They had no love for the rats who turned the plain on one side of their river into a wasteland. And they have no love for the Shadow Lord or his servants, either.”

“They told you this?” asked Lief, amazed.

The girl shrugged. “They are no ordinary fish,” she repeated. “They would speak to you, too, if only you would listen.”

Lief stared at the shapes beneath the water and concentrated with all his strength. But all he could hear was rippling and the sound of bubbles.

“I should have known we would not die in the river,” he murmured. “On the plain the opal showed me a vision of myself standing in the Shifting Sands. If I am to die anywhere, it will be there.”

He felt Barda and Jasmine’s eyes upon him. “Does the opal tell what will be? Or only what might be?” asked Barda abruptly.

Lief shrugged. He did not know.

Kree called from the other side of the channel.

“We must move on,” Jasmine said. “The Ak-Baba may return this way.”

With the fish swimming ahead of them to make their way easy, the companions waded on across the channel. When at last they had reached the opposite shore they turned and bowed their thanks.

“We owe our lives to you, fish,” Jasmine called softly, as Kree flew down to perch on her arm. “We thank you for your kindness.”

The fish ducked their own heads, then slowly swam away, their tails waving as if in farewell.

Kree squawked and took flight once more. Lief, Barda, and Jasmine followed him as he fluttered towards a tree that grew beside the water, its long, feathery green branches bending and sweeping the ground.

They pushed through the greenery and found themselves in a small clear space surrounded on all sides by drooping branches. It was like a little green room with the tree’s gnarled trunk in its center. Filli sat there waiting for them. He scuttled over to Jasmine and leaped onto her shoulder, chattering with pleasure.

Groaning with relief, the three companions sank to the ground. A thick layer of soft brown leaves cushioned their aching bones. Above them was a roof of green. Around them were walls that whispered in the gentle breeze.

“Safe,” murmured Jasmine. But for once there was no need for her to explain what the tree had said. They all felt its peace.

In moments, they were asleep.

When Lief woke, he was alone. Birds were calling above his head. It was cool, and the light was dim.

The sun is going down, he thought, shivering. I have slept the whole day through.

Where were Barda and Jasmine, Kree and Filli? Lief crawled over to the hanging branches that curtained his shelter, parted them cautiously and peered out. With a shock he realized that the sun was not setting, but rising. He had slept not just through the day, but through the following night as well!

Jasmine and Barda were coming towards the tree. He guessed they had been searching for food and hoped they had found something. His stomach felt hollow. It seemed a very long time since he had eaten. He pushed through the leaves and ran to meet them.

“Apples!” Barda called, as he approached. “Rather wizened, but sweet enough, and strangely filling.”

He threw an apple to Lief, who sank his teeth into it ravenously and soon finished it, core and all.

“It is said that stolen fruit tastes the sweetest,” Barda laughed, tossing him another.

“Stolen?” asked Lief, with his mouth full.

“Those trees over there are an orchard,” said Barda, pointing behind him. “Jasmine helped herself without troubling to find the owner and ask permission.”

Jasmine tossed her head. “The trees are groaning with fruit,” she snapped. “They are anxious to be picked. And you can see how withered the apples are. Who could object to us helping ourselves?”

“I am not complaining,” said Lief cheerfully. “The last time I had an apple —” He broke off, the sweet fruit suddenly dry in his mouth. The last time he ate an apple he was in Del, feasting with his friends. It had been his sixteenth birthday. It was the day he had said goodbye to childhood, the life he had known, his home, and the parents he loved. How long ago it seemed now.

Jasmine was looking at him curiously. He realized that his expression had grown sad and quickly he turned away. Jasmine had lived alone in the Forests of Silence, with only Filli and Kree for company. She had seen her parents taken away by Grey Guards, and braved terrors without number from her earliest childhood. He was sure that his homesickness would seem a weak and childish thing to her.

He took another bite of his apple, then jumped as a high-pitched voice rang out.

“Thieves!”

Lief squinted against the shimmering dawn light. Something was rolling through the long grass towards them, shrieking. As it drew closer he realized that it was a little old woman. She was so plump, and so wrapped and bundled in shawls, that she seemed completely round. Thin brown hair was screwed up into a tiny topknot on her head. Her face was creased and crinkled all over like a wizened apple, and red with anger. She was frowning furiously, shaking her fist.

“Thieves!” she shrieked. “Vagabonds! Give them back! Give them back!”

The three companions stared at her, open-mouthed.

“You stole my apples!” the old women shrieked. “You stole my beauties while my guards slept. Where are they? Give them to me!”

Silently, Jasmine passed over the three apples that remained in her hands. The woman clasped them to her chest and glared.

“Cheat! Where are the others?” she shouted. “Where are the other six? Every apple is numbered. Every one must be accounted for. How else can I fill my quota? Nine fruit you took, and nine must be returned.”

Barda cleared his throat. “I am very sorry, madam, but we cannot return them. I fear they are already eaten.”

“Eaten??”

The old woman seemed to swell, and went so red that Lief feared she might explode.

“We — we beg your pardon,” he stammered. “We were so hungry, and —”

The old woman threw back her head, raised her arms, shook her shawls, and gave a terrible, high-pitched cry.

Immediately she was surrounded by a dark, whirling, humming cloud.

Bees. Thousands of bees. They had been riding on her back, clustered under her shawls. Now they were swarming in the air around her, waiting for the order to attack.