‘And the goblins?’ muttered Lief. ‘Are they extinct also?’
‘If they ever existed,’ said Barda. ‘My mother used to tell a story of seven goblins who prowled the countryside north of Del. But the tale always began, “Once upon a time”, as fairy stories do.’
‘I have heard Glock claim that one of his ancestors fought and killed a goblin,’ said Lief.
Barda snorted. ‘I have heard Glock claim many things,’ he said.
They rounded a bend in the stream and saw ahead of them a rocky cliff, rising behind the trees like a wall. The stream ended in a small, deep pool at its foot.
‘We have reached the forest’s edge,’ whispered Barda. ‘This must be the base of one of the hills we saw when we looked down from the other side.’
Lief nodded, his skin prickling as he saw that the footprint trail led away from the stream, and into a vast, dark cave in the cliff.
Fury dashed ahead of them as they crept towards the cave’s entrance. It was heavily fringed with ferns, and somehow this made it look even more like a gaping, toothless mouth. Inside, it was black as night and silent as the grave.
‘Lief,’ Barda breathed. “The ruby…’
Reluctantly Lief pulled his cloak aside to reveal the jewelled belt. The rich red of the ruby seemed only a little dimmer.
‘If there is danger, it is slight,’ Barda said, visibly relaxing.
Lief wet his lips. ‘I think we should still take care,’ he said slowly. “The belt may not be as powerful here as it is on the surface. And look at Fury.’
Barda glanced downward. The huge spider was standing motionless and wary at his feet.
They lit a torch. Then, shoulder to shoulder, swords drawn, they moved into the cave.
The torch lit the ground immediately ahead, but thick darkness surrounded its warm, flickering glow. It was as though they were floating through a black sea in a small bubble of light.
Lief felt as though he was moving in a dream. The air was heavy and warm. And slowly, slowly, a strange, musky smell was growing in strength.
“There is something alive in here,’ he breathed.
As he spoke, the torchlight flickered on something ahead. Something huge.
Scales gleamed golden amid dancing shadows. Teeth and claws glimmered white. A tail lay coiled, thick with spines as sharp as needles. Folded leathery wings netted with spider webs trailed in the dust.
Dragon!
A deep, ancient dread welled up in Lief, turning his legs to jelly. He heard Barda draw a quick breath.
The dragon did not stir. All that moved was the torchlight flickering over its huge form.
‘Its eyes are shut. It is asleep—or dead,’ Barda hissed.
‘Not dead, I think,’ said Lief, struggling to calm himself. ‘But not asleep either, or it would have sensed us and woken. This is some sort of enchantment.’
Fury began to creep to the left. As Lief and Barda went after her, the torchlight began to flicker on the cave’s rocky wall. Soon they saw that there was a narrow space between the wall and the dragon’s head.
This then, was to be their path. Already Fury was crawling doggedly through the gap. Taking a deep breath, Barda moved after her, looking straight ahead.
Lief began to follow. He knew that he, too, should keep his eyes to the front, but he could not. He turned and gazed, fascinated, at the terrible head, so near that he had only to stretch out his hand to touch it. And as he stared, the dragon’s great, golden eye opened.
Lief froze. His mind went blank. There was no fear, no hope, no thought. There was only the dragon’s eye, and his own face mirrored there—pale, weak and small, floating in a cold, flat sea that was gold as the topaz in the Belt of Deltora, deep with ancient memory.
For a long moment the eye held him. Then, slowly, it closed once more.
Released, almost sick with shock, Lief lurched on to where Barda was waiting for him.
‘Why did you stop?’ Barda whispered. ‘Are you mad, Lief, that you would risk—?’
Lief brushed past blindly. Blackness yawned ahead, but that was better than what lay behind him. Cool air fanned his face, chilling the sweat on his brow. All he could think of was to get away—hide himself.
He heard Barda hurrying after him, felt Barda trying to hold him back. There was another gust of cold air. The torch flared and went out.
Lief stumbled, righted himself, and stepped forward into—thin air. There was a split second of disbelief. And then he was falling, dragging Barda with him, plunging down, down into darkness.
13 - Gold and Scarlet
Deep, chill water. Holding him down. Up! Up! Breathe! His lungs almost bursting, Lief fought his way to the surface. He floundered there, taking great gulps of air, looking blindly around him through a blur of water
‘Barda!’ he shouted desperately.
Barda… Barda… Barda… Echoes answered him—a thousand echoes, calling and whispering from every direction.
There was a sudden splashing nearby. Dizzy with relief, Lief heard Barda gasping and coughing.
‘Barda! I am here!’ he called, struggling towards the sound.
Here… here… here…
As his eyes began to clear, Lief saw the shape of Barda’s head, dark against water that moved like pale, liquid gold. He saw the soft glow of gold all around him, gold shining from the walls of a vast cavern that seemed to have no beginning and no end.
Gold as the dragon’s eye, as the dragon’s scales. Gold as the great topaz.
This was the cavern through which Alyss fled in ages past. This was the place Jasmine had sought. The beginning of the underground way to the Shadowlands.
But the old tale had not mentioned one important detail. The cavern was flooded. And… Lief’s stomach turned over.
And Jasmine could not swim.
Through a haze of misery he saw Barda’s arm reach out and catch hold of something that was bobbing in the water beside him. For a terrifying moment Lief thought that it was a body. Then he realised that it was only a log of wood.
He looked up. The shimmering roof of the cavern curved high above him like a golden sky. The hole through which he and Barda had fallen was just a small, blurred patch of darkness. He could barely see it. There was no way he and Barda could reach it.
Barda paddled over to him, half leaning on the log. ‘This will keep us afloat for a while at least,’ he panted. ‘Until we find another way out. Or…’
Or what? Lief thought, as his companion’s voice faltered. Until finally the wood grows waterlogged, and sinks? Until we grow too exhausted to hold onto it any longer?
“The water may be more shallow further on,’ he said huskily. ‘Let us try.’
As he spoke, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Something small and dark was wriggling towards them through the rippling water. Lief could hardly believe his eyes when he recognised the tangle of flailing legs and angry red stare for what they were.
‘Fury!’ he exclaimed, as the spider reached the log.
Fury climbed laboriously from the water, still trailing a short length of chain. She reached the top of the log and crouched there glowering, the picture of rage.
Barda shook his head in disbelief. ‘I thought that at least I was rid of you, spider,’ he growled.
All the same, Fury’s appearance had cheered both of them. Supporting themselves on the log, they began to paddle slowly forward.
At first they spoke to one another, marvelling at the mysterious beauty of the place, even joking about Fury’s continued sulking. But as the hours passed the talk grew less, and at last they were silent.
It was the silence of exhaustion, cold, and the gradual disappearance of hope. Lief’s legs were numb. He no longer had the strength to paddle. He put his head down on the log, feeling its strange, spongy softness under his cheek.
‘Lief, hold on! You must not die…’