Deltora Quest #1: The Forests of Silence (7 page)

M
any hours later, feeling as though he were living in a dream, Lief was marching east along the road leading away from Del. Barda strode beside him, silent, upright, and strong — a completely different person from the shambling, mumbling wreck who had haunted the gates of the forge for as long as Lief could remember.

They had left Del unnoticed by creeping through a hole in the wall that Lief had not known existed, so cleverly was it disguised. Now the city, his parents, and everything he knew were far behind him, and with every step he was moving towards a place whose very name made him sweat with fear.

He told himself, The Forests of Silence strike a special terror in my heart, for they are near, and I have heard tales of them all my life. But it is certain that the
other places on the map are just as deadly in their own way.

This idea did not comfort him in the least.

For the first hour after leaving the city he had walked with his hand on his sword, his heart thumping. But they met no one, and for a long time now he had been concentrating only on moving quickly, keeping up with Barda’s long strides. He was determined not to be the one to call for rest. Determined, too, not to be the first to speak, though his head was teeming with questions.

They came to a place where a small road branched off the main one to the right, crossing a little wooden bridge and then winding away into the darkness. Barda stopped.

“I believe that this is the path to Wenn Del — and the shortest way to the Forests,” he said. “The turning fits the description I was given. But there should be a signpost, and there is none.”

Tall trees rose around them, but no leaves rustled. The silence was heavy and complete. It was as if the land was holding its breath, waiting for them to decide what to do.

The clouds parted for a moment, and the moon’s ghostly light beamed down on them. Looking around, Lief saw a tiny glimmer of white on the ground by the side of the road. He moved to it quickly, knelt down, then beckoned to Barda.

“It is here,” he called excitedly, scrabbling among the dead leaves. “Someone has pushed it over, to keep the way secret.”

The signpost lay flat on the ground, almost covered by leaves and small plants. Lief brushed away the last of the leaves, then sat back on his heels with a gasp as he saw what was underneath.

“Someone has tried to warn other travelers of danger along this path. No doubt the sign was not pushed over to hide the way, but to hide the warning,” Barda muttered.

Lief stood up slowly, glancing behind him. Suddenly the silence seemed thick and heavy, pressing in on him.

He became aware that his companion was watching him, frowning. “This path will save us a day and a half, if we take it,” Barda said. “But perhaps I should not lead you into certain peril when we have just begun.”

All at once, Lief was very angry. With Barda for seeing his fear, with himself for showing that fear, and,
most of all, with the unknown enemy who had so craftily hidden the warning sign.

“You do not have to guard my safety any longer, Barda,” he said loudly, kicking at the dead leaves. “A short cut is too precious to waste. We are prepared for trouble, now. We will watch for danger as we go.”

“Very well,” said Barda, turning away. “As you wish.” His voice was as calm and level as always. Lief could not tell if he was pleased or sorry.

They turned to the right, crossed the little bridge, and went on. The road twisted, narrowed, and became darker. Tall, thick bushes lined it on both sides. Their leaves were large, smooth, and stiff, with strange, pale veins showing almost white against the dark green.

They had not gone far before the back of Lief’s neck began to prickle. He turned his head slightly and, from the corner of his eye, caught a glimpse of something gleaming through the leaves. It was a pair of red eyes, glinting in the moonlight. Controlling his urge to shout, he touched Barda’s arm.

“I see them,” Barda muttered. “Draw your sword, but keep walking. Look to the front. Be ready.”

Lief did as he was told, his whole body tingling with alarm. He saw another pair of eyes, and another. And soon it seemed that the whole path was lined with burning points of light. But still there was no sound.

He gritted his teeth. The hand that held the sword was slippery with sweat. “What are they? What are they waiting for?” he hissed to Barda.

As he spoke something skittered across the road behind him. He swung around just in time to see a creature disappearing into the bushes — a bent, pale, scuttling thing that seemed all legs and arms. His skin crawled.

“Look ahead!” hissed Barda, furiously dragging on his arm to make him move again. “Didn’t I tell you —”

And then the humming began.

The sound was soft, at first. It came from all around them, filling the air — a high, whining hum, as if a great swarm of flying insects had suddenly invaded the road.

But no insects were to be seen. Only the dark green of the leaves. And the eyes, watching. And the sound, which grew louder and louder with every step they took, so that soon their heads were filled with it, and their ears began to ache and ring.

And still the sound rose — high, piercing, unbearable. Desperate to shut it out, they clapped their hands to their ears and bent their heads against it, walking fast, faster — breaking into a run. Their feet thudded on the endless path, their breath came hard and panting, their hearts beat like thunder. But they were aware of nothing — nothing but the pain of the sound that rose and rose, piercing their brains, driving out every thought.

They ran, weaving and stumbling, desperate to escape it. But there was no escape. They cried out for
help. But they could not even hear their own voices. Finally they fell, exhausted, to lie writhing, helpless in the dust.

The sound rose to an agonizing wail of triumph. The leaves thrashed and rustled. A host of pale, lanky creatures with hot red eyes scuttled towards them.

And, in moments, they were covered.

Lief woke slowly, with no idea of where he was, or how much time had passed. There was a dull ringing in his ears. His throat was raw. Every muscle in his body was aching.

I am alive, he thought, with dull surprise. How is it that I am alive?

He struggled to think, though his brain seemed clouded by a thick fog.

The last he remembered was running with Barda along the Wenn Del path, his head almost bursting with sound. After that there was only blankness.

Or was there? He seemed to remember a dream. A dream of needle-sharp, stinging pains all over his body. A dream of being poked and prodded by thin, hard fingers. A dream of being carried, jolting, on bony shoulders. A dream of shrill tittering and muttering, while night turned into day and day to night again.

A terrible dream. But … had it been a dream? Or had it been real? Had it all been real?

He was lying on his back. Light slanted through branches high above him. It is day now, then, Lief
thought drowsily. Late afternoon, by the look of it. But which afternoon? How long have I been unconscious? And where am I?

He heard a groan nearby. He tried to turn his head. And it was only then that he realized that he could not move.

Panic seized him. He tried to lift his hands, move his feet. But he could not even twitch a finger.

How could they have bound me so completely? he thought stupidly.

And slowly, horribly the answer came to him. He was not tied up at all. His body was simply refusing to move at his will.

“What — has happened?” he cried aloud in terror.

“They stung us — as wasps sting caterpillars, as spiders sting flies.” Barda’s voice was thick and slow, but Lief recognized it. He realized that it was Barda who had groaned. Barda was lying near to him. Barda was as helpless as he was.

“The creatures have paralyzed us so that we still live, but cannot move,” Barda’s voice went on. “They will be back, and then they will feast.”

Again he groaned. “We were fools to ignore the warning sign. I am to blame. I could not imagine a weapon we could not fight. But that sound! No one could stand against it. I cannot understand why the Guards in Del did not speak of it.”

“Perhaps they did not know. Perhaps no one who has ever heard the sound has lived to tell of it,” said Lief.

“Lief — I have led you to your death!”

Lief licked his dry lips. “It is not your fault. We took the road together. And we are not dead yet! Barda — where are we?”

The answer came even more slowly than before, and when it came it filled Lief’s heart with dread. “They carried us a long way,” Barda said weakly. “I think — I think we are in the Forests of Silence.”

Lief closed his eyes, trying to fight the wave of despair that was sweeping over him. And then a thought came to him.

“Why?” he asked. “Why bring us here, to a place so far from their home?”

“Because,” called a new voice, “you are too great a prize for the Wenn alone. They have brought you as an offering for their god. The Wennbar likes fresh meat. It will come when the sun goes down.”

There was a rustle from the tree above. And, as lightly as a butterfly, a wild-haired girl landed on the ground right beside Lief’s head.

A
stounded, Lief blinked up at the girl. She was about his own age, elfin-faced, with black hair, slanting black brows, and green eyes. She was dressed in ragged grey clothes that seemed strangely familiar. She was bending over him, unfastening the ties of his cloak.

“Thank heavens you have come!” he whispered.

“This will be useful, Filli,” the girl said.

With a shock, Lief realized that she was not speaking to him, but to a small, furry, wide-eyed creature that was clinging to her shoulder.

“How lucky that we came this way today,” she went on. “If we had left it until tomorrow the cloth would have been quite spoiled.”

With a single push of her slim, sun-browned arm, she rolled Lief onto his side so that she could pull the
cloak from beneath him. Then she let him roll back and stood up, the cloak draped carelessly over her arm.

A harsh cry came from overhead. Lief raised his eyes and saw a black bird, a raven, perched in the tree from which the girl had leapt. Its head on one side, it was watching them carefully with one sharp yellow eye.

The girl grinned and held up the cloak. “See what I have found, Kree!” she called. “A fine new blanket for the nest. But we are coming back now. Do not fear.”

She turned to go.

“No!” shouted Lief in panic. “Do not leave us!”

“You cannot leave us here to die!” Barda roared at the same moment. But already the girl had disappeared from sight, taking the cloak with her. And suddenly, in the midst of his despair, Lief thought of his mother’s hands, patiently weaving the cloth by candlelight.

“Bring back my cloak!” he bellowed.

Even as he shouted, he knew how foolish it was. He was going to die, horribly, very soon. What did it matter if the cloak was gone?

But somehow it
did
matter. “You have no right to take it!” he shouted furiously to the empty air. “My mother made it for me. My mother!”

There was a moment’s silence. Then, to Lief’s astonishment, the girl was back, staring down at him suspiciously through the tangled mass of her hair.

“How could your mother have made this cloak?” she demanded. “Grey Guards do not know their mothers. They are raised in groups of ten, in houses with —”

“I am not a Grey Guard!” shouted Lief. “My friend and I are — travelers, from Del. Can you not see by our garments?”

The girl laughed scornfully. “Your disguise does not fool me. Only Grey Guards take the Wenn Del path, for it leads nowhere but to the Forests.”

She raised her hand to caress the little animal clinging to her shoulder, and her voice hardened. “Many of your fellows have been here before you, seeking living things to take or destroy. They have learned painfully of their mistake.”

“We are not Guards,” Barda called out. “My name is Barda. My companion is Lief. We came to the Forests for good reason.”

“What reason?” the girl demanded disbelievingly.

“We — we cannot tell you,” said Lief.

She turned away, shrugging. With a surge of panic Lief shouted after her. “What is your name? Where is your family? Can you bring them here?”

The girl paused and turned back to look at him again. She seemed puzzled, as though no one had ever asked her such things before. “My name is Jasmine,” she said at last. “Kree and Filli are my family. Grey Guards took my mother and father long ago.”

Lief’s heart sank. So there was no one to help her
carry them to safety. But still … she was strong. Perhaps even now there was some way …

“The Grey Guards are our deadly enemies, as they are yours,” he said, as calmly and forcefully as he could. “Our quest to the forest is part of a plan to defeat them — to rid Deltora of the Shadow Lord. Help us, we beg you!”

He held his breath as the girl hesitated, fingering the cloak she still held over her arm. Then, above their heads, the black bird screeched again. Jasmine glanced up at it, threw the cloak down onto Lief’s chest, and darted away without another word.

“Come back!” cried Lief, with all his strength. “Jasmine!” But there was no reply, and when he looked up to the tree again, even the bird had gone.

Lief heard Barda moan once, in helpless anger. Then there was utter silence. No bird sang. No small creature rustled in the grass. It was the silence of waiting. The silence of despair. The silence of death.

The sun sank lower in the sky. Long, dark shadows striped the place where they lay. Soon, very soon, it would be dark. And then, thought Lief, then the Wennbar will come.

The cloak felt warm on his chest. He could not lift a hand to touch it, but still it gave him comfort. He was glad that it was with him. He closed his eyes …

Something gripped his shoulder. He cried out in terror and opened his eyes to see Jasmine’s face close to his.

“Open your mouth!” the girl ordered. “Make haste!” She pushed a tiny bottle towards his lips.

Confused, Lief did as he was told. He felt two cold drops fall on his tongue. A horrible taste filled his mouth.

“What —?” he spluttered.

But Jasmine had already turned away from him. “Open your mouth!” he heard her hissing to Barda.

A moment later Barda made a choking, disgusted sound. Lief realized that he, too, had been given some of the vile-tasting liquid.

“Poison!” Barda rasped. “You —”

Lief’s heart gave a great thud. Then, suddenly, his body grew hot and began to prickle all over. With every instant the feeling grew stronger and more frightening. The heat became burning. The prickles became needle-sharp jabs of pain. It was as though he was caught in a flaming thorn bush.

The warning screech of the bird sounded far above them. The sky was red through the leaves of the tree. Barda was crying out. But now Lief could hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing but his own pain and fear. He began to writhe and thrash on the ground.

Then, dimly, he realized that Jasmine was bending over him. She was pulling at his arms, kicking at him with hard, bare feet. “Get up!” she was urging. “Listen to me! Do you not see what you are doing? You are moving! You can move!”

You can move!
Gasping, hardly able to believe it, Lief fought back the pain and struggled to his hands and knees. Blindly he felt for his cloak. He was not going to leave it now.

“The tree!” Jasmine shouted. “Crawl to the tree and climb! The Wennbar is almost upon us!” She had already turned to Barda. He was rolling on his bed of ferns, groaning in agony.

Lief hauled himself towards them, dragging his cloak behind him, but the girl waved him back. “Go!” she cried furiously. “I will see to him! Go! Climb!”

Lief knew she was right. He could not help her, or Barda. It was as much as he could do to help himself. He began to crawl towards the trunk of the great tree. His legs and arms were trembling. His whole body shuddered, swept by waves of heat.

He reached the tree and pulled himself upright. There was a low branch near his hand. He grasped it, panting, and with the other hand pulled his cloak around him.

Only a day or two ago he had climbed a rope to the top of a high wall without a thought. Now he doubted that he could even haul himself onto this branch.

The clearing dimmed. The sun had slipped below the horizon.

High above Lief there was a clatter of wings as the black bird left its perch. Calling harshly, urgently, it
soared down to where Jasmine staggered towards the tree with Barda leaning on her shoulder.

“I know, Kree!” Jasmine gasped, as the bird flapped anxiously around her head. “I can smell it.”

As she said the words, Lief smelt something, too. A faint, sickening odor of decay was stealing through the clearing.

His stomach turned over. He tied the strings of the cloak, grasped the branch with both hands, and managed to pull himself up. He clung to the rough bark, panting and shaking, afraid that even now he might fall.

Jasmine and Barda had reached the tree now, the bird still swooping above them. “Higher!” Jasmine shouted to Lief. “As high as you can. It cannot climb, but it will try to claw us down.”

Lief gritted his teeth, lifted his arms, and hauled himself to a higher branch. He heard Barda grunting with effort as he struggled to climb after him. The evil smell was stronger now. And there was a sound — a heavy, stealthy sliding, the snapping of twigs, the rustling of leaves and the cracking of branches as something moved towards the clearing.

“Make haste!” Jasmine had leapt up beside Lief. The tiny creature she called Filli was chattering on her shoulder, its eyes wide with fear.

“Barda —” Lief managed to say.

“He knows what he must do. You can help him only by moving out of his way!” the girl snapped.
“Climb, you fool! Do you not understand? The sun has set. The Wennbar is —”

Filli screamed, the black bird screeched. The bushes on the other side of the clearing thrashed and bent. The air thickened with a smell so vile that Lief choked and gagged. Then a huge, hideous creature, like nothing he had ever seen, crawled into view.

Four stubby legs bent under the weight of a swollen body that was as round, blotched, and bloated as some gigantic rotten fruit. Vast, flat feet crushed the twigs beneath them to powder. Folds of wrinkled, green-grey flesh hung from the neck. The head was nothing but two tiny eyes set above long, wicked jaws. The jaws gaped open, showing rows of dripping black teeth and releasing gusts of foul air with every breath.

Choking back a cry of disgust and terror, Lief scrambled higher into the tree, forcing his trembling legs and arms to obey his will. One branch. Then another. And another.

A terrible growl sounded in the clearing. He looked down. Barda and Jasmine were just below him, and they, too, were looking down. The Wennbar had reached the fern bed. It was snapping its jaws together, jerking its head from side to side, growling with anger at finding its prize gone.

We are safe! thought Lief, his heart pounding. Safe! It cannot reach us up here. He closed his eyes, almost dizzy with relief.

“Lief!” shrieked Jasmine.

And Lief opened his eyes just in time to see the Wennbar rear up, its front legs clawing at the air, its pale grey belly gleaming through the dimness. The creature roared, and the folds of skin hanging from its neck disappeared as the neck swelled and grew, raising its head higher, higher …

And then it was leaping forward, hurling itself at the tree, its jaws snapping, its tiny eyes burning with rage and hunger.