Curse of Kings (The Trials of Oland Born, Book 1) (10 page)

LAND WENT VERY STILL
. “W
hat do you mean
?”
HE
said.

“Don't worry,” said Delphi. “You don't look like a killer. I don't think you're that kind of criminal.”

“I'm not any kind of criminal,” said Oland.

“Just a border-crossing one,” said Delphi.

“I wouldn't have crossed the border if I wasn't looking for Chancey the Gold,” said Oland.

“Well, he isn't here,” said Delphi. “I could take you through The Falls, if you like. I'm the other guide.”

“I haven't come here to cross The Falls,” said Oland. “I just need to speak with Chancey the Gold.”

“Why?” said Delphi.

“I can't say,” said Oland.

“Was he expecting you?” said Delphi.

“No.”

“So what are you going to do now?” said Delphi.

“I don't know,” said Oland.

“You could wait here until he comes back, which could be days or weeks or months,” said Delphi, “or, if it's an urgent matter, you could go and look for him.”

“But where?” said Oland.

“That's for you to decide,” said Delphi.

“But I couldn't possibly decide that, I don't even know him,” said Oland. “I'll have to wait…”

“It could be a very long time,” said Delphi. She looked at him. “And don't forget the border guards…”

Oland considered his meagre options, and his thoughts again returned to the border guards. There was no way he could go back the way he came. “Maybe I should cross The Falls…” he said.

Delphi nodded. “Are you a strong swimmer?”

“No,” said Oland.

“Me neither,” she said.

Oland stared at her. “If you can't swim, how can you guide people through?”

“If you consider it,” said Delphi, “who is the better guide? The person who has nothing to lose by falling into the water? Or the one who will die?”

“Die?” said Oland. “What do you mean, die?”

Delphi's voice was solemn. “Yes,” she said. “That's what the Scryer of Gort says.”

Oland was surprised to once more hear the name of the legendary seer. “
You've
been to the Scryer of Gort?” he said.

Delphi shook her head. “No. My mother visited her just weeks before I was born. The scryer laid a hand on my mother's belly and said, ‘That child must never swim or her death will be assured.'”

Oland frowned. “But—”

“I can wash, I can get a little wet, I just can't be submerged in water,” said Delphi, “or I'll die.”

“But, if you could swim,” said Oland, “surely your death wouldn't be assured, surely you wouldn't drown.”

Delphi was silent for some time. “Maybe the scryer meant that I would swim to my death. Even excellent swimmers can swim to their death. If I swam in the waters of The Straits, for example, it could be hard to fight the currents. I could be swept away and drown.”

“But… if you were warned not to swim,” said Oland, “why do you live here?”

“You ask so many questions,” said Delphi. “Well, I have one for you: do you want me to guide you through The Falls?” Her dark eyes danced with challenge.

Oland looked out towards the cliffs. He had never seen anything quite so beautiful and foreboding, anything quite so… entrancing.

Delphi sat down and gestured for Oland to sit beside her. “Let me explain,” she said.

Oland sat at what he guessed was a polite distance.

“There are three ridges hidden behind The Falls,” said Delphi, pointing towards them, “the low ridge, the middle ridge and the high ridge. They are ledges that you have to walk along to get through The Falls. And I can guide you along whichever one you choose.”

“But why would I need a guide for that?” said Oland.

“Why do you think you are the only person in Envar who might
not
need one?” said Delphi, a swift spark of anger flaring in her eyes. “Look at them – the cascades are powerful, and sometimes the ridge runs directly through the flow of the water. I have the ability to turn the water off, which gives you enough time to make it through.”

“It was you who did that?” said Oland.

“Yes,” said Delphi.

“But how can you turn off a waterfall?” said Oland.

“I make dams,” said Delphi. “If you look closely, there are ten Falls. They each flow from a spring on the top of the cliff. I take rocks of different weights and sizes and put them in a metal cage that hangs above the source of each Fall. The door of the cage is attached to a cable secured by bolts into the rock face. When we are down on a ridge and I am guiding you through, I untie the cable. The cage door opens, the rocks fall down and stop the flow of water… but only for three minutes, before the force of the water blows the rocks free. They're short minutes.” She smiled.

Oland narrowed his eyes. “Couldn't anyone work those cables?”

Delphi stood up and ran to the tree she had been hiding behind. She grabbed the lowest branch, swung up and over it, then climbed, in seconds, to the top. She shouted down to Oland. “Yes,” she said, “if the person knew how to scale the cliff face, if he knew the weights of the rocks, the timing, if he knew how to release the cables and how to avoid the falling rocks, then yes.” Delphi tilted her head. “Anyone could.”

Oland felt even smaller than he must have looked to her.

“So which ridge do you choose?” said Delphi.

“I haven't made up my—”

“Which ridge?” shouted Delphi. She paused. “The low ridge is the widest, but there are many, many caves, and three bridges. And, at one point, you have to stand under a strong cascade for several minutes. There is a row of iron rings that you can hold on to, to make your way across. You'll be swept off your feet with the force, but if you just hold tight…” She shrugged. “And, at least, if you're thrown off, your fall into The Straits will be the shortest.” She held her thumb and forefinger up to show a distance the size of a pea.

Oland looked at it, and looked at her. “Thrown off?” he said.

“The water flows so quickly,” said Delphi. “You can only let go of those rings exactly when I tell you to. And I can only do that from the spring above it, because the rest of the rock at the low ridge was too soft to secure cables to. The choice was rings or cables. And the rings are more important. So I have to release the cage myself,” said Delphi. “It's the only point in the journey that you will have to be alone.”

Oland nodded.

“The high ridge is the narrowest of the three,” said Delphi, “but it's rocky and unstable, and were you to fall, the drop into The Straits is obviously the greatest. The high ridge offers the least work for me, but it's treacherous for someone crossing for the first time.”

“Because you've left it until last, I'm guessing that the middle ridge is the one you want me to take,” said Oland.

“Well, it creates the most work for me,” said Delphi, “but it is the most rewarding. We can go into the Chalice. It's a cave, shaped like a chalice. You enter at the stem. Where it forks, you have to decide which route to take. They're both dark, low caves that fill with water as you travel through. When you come out the other side, part of the ridge is gone, so you have to jump across it. If you clear it, you have a straight run ahead.”

“If…” said Oland.

“The Chalice is a special place,” said Delphi. “That's all I will say. And you can make a wish at the fork.” She put one leg on either side of the branch, then clamped herself around it. “You'll see,” she said. She swung upside down, rotated in a full circle, grabbed the branch in front with her hands and, instead of climbing down the trunk, dropped to the ground and landed, almost with a bounce.

She stood, looking at Oland, her oilskins flapping behind her in the wind. Oland studied the small hooded girl with her incredible strength and her huge smile.

“The middle ridge,” he said. “The middle.”

ELPHI CLIMBED UP AND DOWN THE CLIFFS OF
T
HE
Falls, hooking and unhooking cables, shouting to Oland over the roaring water. He was amazed that someone so small and slight could control something so wild and powerful.

It took them an hour to reach the Chalice. Delphi had no signs of the tiredness that Oland felt dragging him down. She moved quickly ahead of him through the darkness.

“Slow down,” said Oland. “I can barely see.”

He heard her stop.

“Can you see anything?” she said.

“I only know that you've turned to face me because of your voice,” said Oland.

“Hold out your arm,” said Delphi. She turned back around as he touched her shoulder and they walked like that to the fork.

“You can go left or right,” said Delphi. “Each way has its own magic. And, depending on the wind outside and the flow of the water, one side will fill with water quicker.”

“Let's go right,” said Oland.

“Side by side this time,” said Delphi. “Take my arm. And don't forget to make your wish.” She waited. But to Oland, wishes were pointless. He had forever wished for a different life, and, though the king's letter had delivered him a route to finding that, it came with an overwhelming challenge. Weren't wishes to be granted simply? Unconditionally? And what about his wish for his mother to return to claim him, the wish he had made over and over ever since he had first heard Wickham's tale?

“Come with me,” said Delphi when she thought Oland's wish had been made.

The right-hand cave was hot and damp. It was filled with the sounds of moving water – trickling, flowing or falling in drops from the roof. Before long, the water was rising above their ankles. Oland didn't want to think of it moving much higher. But, as they walked on, he could feel his knees getting wet. Every now and then, he felt something bump against his legs.

“Now,” said Delphi. “Stop.”

“Why?” said Oland.

“Just stop.”

Oland did as she asked and could hear Delphi climbing up the wall of the cave and breaking something away from the ceiling.

“Catch,” she said.

Oland heard a splash as whatever she had thrown landed in the water beside him. He grabbed it before it floated away and picked it up. It was a sphere and, though it wasn't heavy, he held it cupped between both hands. It was no more than four inches in diameter, and its surface felt waxy.

“What is it?” said Oland. “Are these leaves on the outside?”

“Yes,” said Delphi. “Feel for the rough part at the top, stick your thumbs into it to crack it open, then peel the leaves apart.” There was excitement in her voice.

Oland did as she said, and immediately the space around them was illuminated. “What
is
this?” he said. He stared down at an extraordinary teal-coloured flower that had blossomed from the chalice-shaped cocoon of the leaves. Nestled at the centre of the petals was a tiny golden orb, the source of the incredible light.

“It's a camberlily,” said Delphi. “Isn't it beautiful?”

Oland looked up. The small green spheres covered the entire roof of the cave.

“This is where they grow,” she said. She plucked another one down and opened it, her eyes dancing in the light. “It's the seed that glows,” she said.

But Oland was no longer looking at her. He was staring down, swaying back and forth, clutching at his chest. More camberlilies floated past him. He could see the reflection of his panicked face in the rising water. He desperately gasped for breath as he was overwhelmed by a series of terrifying, unsettling sensations, and his mind filled with a tumult of dark images he could barely absorb. All he knew was that he had to leave. He dropped the flower and began to run towards the exit of the cave.

“Oland,” said Delphi, jumping down from the wall, splashing into the water, then following him. “Take the flower with you. Wait! You need light.”

“No!” said Oland. “Leave it there! No!”

He splashed through the cave, drenching his clothes, banging off the walls as he staggered through.

Delphi dropped the camberlily, and caught up with him at the point where the tunnel was in darkness again. His chest was heaving.

“Are you all right?” said Delphi.

“I… I just need to get out of here,” said Oland.

“Let me guide you,” said Delphi, taking his arm. They moved as they had before, but this time in silence.

As they walked out of the cave on to the ridge, the unopened orbs washed over the edge and a high wind whipped around them. The harsh sunlight held no warmth, and their wet clothes turned ice-cold.

“Keep tight against the wall,” said Delphi.

“I know,” said Oland without looking at her. He pressed his back against the wall, and they both moved sideways along the ridge, their eyes narrowed against the intensity of the daylight. Before long, they came to an eight-foot gap in the ledge.

Oland turned to Delphi. “I didn't think it would be…” He struggled to keep his voice even. “I didn't think I'd have to jump this far…”

“You don't,” said Delphi.

“But—”

“Tell me,” said Delphi, “what happened to you in the cave?”

Oland was struck by the disturbing thought that he would never understand it, that the explanation was buried somewhere inside him – somewhere beyond his reach.

“I don't know,” he said.

“But… did the flowers make you ill? Did the light?”

“I said, I don't know,” said Oland.

She held her breath. Eventually, she spoke. “So, are you ready to go across?”

Delphi turned to the wall behind her and pulled a hanging vine from it.

“I'm ready,” said Oland. He took a step forward.

“No,” said Delphi, “Before you jump, you have to…”

Oland bent his knees.

“No,” said Delphi. She tried to grab his arm, but missed. “Wait!”

But Oland had already started to jump. Delphi slid down the vine and caught him by his tunic, swinging him on to the ledge below. He landed hard, his head spinning, his neck raw from where his tunic had been pulled tight. Delphi landed lightly beside him.

“I was trying to tell you about the vines,” she said. “Don't ever do that again. When I said, ‘Before you jump,' I meant it.”

Oland closed his eyes. His cheeks burned.

“Stay there until you catch your breath,” said Delphi. “Don't move an inch.”

After a long silence, Oland spoke. “I'm sorry for falling,” he said.

“You should be sorry for jumping,” said Delphi.