A ghastly, bubbling roar echoed through the cavern. The tentacle holding Lief seemed to freeze in the air. Then it began to shudder and jerk. Lief heard Kree screech, felt the coil that held him loosening, felt himself slipping. His fingers scrabbled on the slimy, ridged skin of the tentacle’s underside as he plunged down into the water.
He rose to the surface spluttering and swung around, frantically trying to see Jasmine among the foam and the twisting coils of the beast.
‘Lief! Here! Make haste!’
Barda was splashing towards him. Barda was seizing him by the waist and hauling him recklessly over the squirming tentacles towards the rock.
Lief struggled weakly. ‘Jasmine!’ he choked.
‘She is safe! There, see? By the shell!’ Barda shouted.
Lief twisted his neck, blinking through a haze of water. He saw Jasmine kneeling by the heaving body of the beast.
Jasmine’s hair was streaming with water and blood. But she was alive. Alive!
Filli was clasped in her arms. Kree was on her shoulder. As Lief watched, she raised her head, looked straight at him, and then up, above his and Barda’s heads.
Her face changed. She stumbled to her feet.
‘Lief!’ she shrieked. Lief himself looked up and suddenly understood.
Above his head great tentacles were curling inward. And they were swaying, like great trees about to fall.
To fall!
Lief twisted free of Barda’s clasp and began clawing his own way through the water, heedless of the pain in his arm. Together he and Barda struggled forward. Together they reached the rock, sprawled to safety, just as the giant tentacles began crashing down, carving great furrows in the water. Water shot to the roof and rained down again, pounding on the rock, beating on the quivering, dying body of The Fear.
And then, quite suddenly, it was over, and there was silence.
Lief, Barda and Jasmine crawled to their feet. Nothing moved in the cavern but the water lapping against the rock. Red light flickered feebly. The tentacles, already paling to shades of grey, lay half-submerged, like the trunks of vast, drowned trees.
And Glock lay still, crushed beneath the mass of mottled flesh at the heart of the Fear. Only his head and shoulders were free. His eyes were closed.
They clambered over to him, and knelt by his side.
‘Glock,’ said Lief softly.
Glock’s eyes opened. They were glazed, but a small spark burned deep within them.
‘It is dead, then?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Barda quietly. ‘You defeated it, Glock. Single-handed. As you always said you would.’
Glock nodded slowly. ‘That is good,’ he said, ‘I thought—there is one place where the beast is not protected. One place. If only I can reach it. If only…’
The light in the cavern was slowly brightening. The jewel-like colour fell on Glock’s face. ‘I am dying,’ he murmured, almost in wonder. ‘But that is good also. For what use is a Jalis without his sword arm?’
‘You will fight again, Glock,’ said Lief.
Glock’s mouth twisted into a mocking smile. ‘Not in this life,’ he said. His eyes shifted to Jasmine’s face. ‘The girl knows. She does not lie to me, or to herself. She knows I am finished.’
Jasmine met his gaze. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears, but she moved her head slightly in a nod.
‘I have called you weakling more than once, girl. But that—was sport,’ the dying man said huskily. ‘You have the heart of a Jalis. Take my talisman from my neck. It is yours now. May it serve you well.’
Jasmine’s eyes widened, but she did not stir.
A flicker of impatience crossed Glock’s face. ‘Take it!’ he muttered. ‘Take it now, so I may see it in your hands.’
Jasmine reached forward and did as she was told.
Glock stared at the small, faded bag, and again his mouth twisted into a smile. ‘You may think that it did not serve me so well,’ he said. ‘But remember this. The dearest wish of a Jalis is to die fighting in a great cause. And that I have done.’
The light in the cavern grew brighter, brighter, and suddenly it seemed to Lief that rainbows began to dance within it. Blinking, dazzled, he looked up.
His eyes had not been deceiving him. Visible at last, on the other side of the slowly collapsing body of The Fear, was the mouth of a tunnel. And from the tunnel streamed rainbow light that mingled with the cavern’s scarlet so that it seemed that the very air was shining.
‘The Glimmer,’ Jasmine whispered.
A faint sound reached their ears. The sound of the Plumes cheering wildly on the shore. They had seen the light.
‘Lief.’ Glock’s voice was very low. Lief bent over him.
Rainbows played on Glock’s ravaged face. ‘The way to the Shadowlands is open,’ he murmured. ‘Now—you can find my people. You can bring them home.’
Lief nodded. His heart was so full that he was unable to speak.
‘When you find them,’ the dying man said, ‘I would like you to—tell them of me.’
Lief found his voice. ‘I will tell them, Glock,’ he said. ‘I swear it.’
Glock nodded slightly with satisfaction. Then his eyes closed, and he spoke no more.
19 - The Hand of Fate
The island had been battered mercilessly by The Fear’s rage. But the Plumes were singing as their boats carried Lief, Barda, Jasmine and Glock to the shore, skimming over the water like brown leaves swept by the wind.
And as the boats landed, the song rose in joy until it seemed to fill the vast cavern. The words echoed from the glowing walls, rolling in waves of beauty over the scarlet sea.
Above our land the tumult rages
Struggle echoes through the ages
There the strife may never cease
But here below we dwell in peace.
Where timeless tides swamp memory,
Our sunless prison makes us free.
The gem-glow lights our rocky walls,
And dragons guard our shining halls.
‘It is not a song of death, but of life,’ said Jasmine softly as the last, pure notes drifted on the air. ‘I knew it was so.’
Lief and Barda glanced at her curiously, but did not question her. Her eyes were fixed on the boat which Nols herself had guided—the boat in which Glock’s body lay, shrouded in scarlet.
‘So Glock will remain here,’ Jasmine sighed. ‘It seems strange…’
‘Your friend will be honoured among us,’ said Nols, stepping forward and putting her small hand on Jasmine’s arm. ‘He will lie with the Pipers of Plume, and never be forgotten.’
Jasmine thought for a moment, then smiled slightly. ‘Glock would like that,’ she said. ‘He would like to take his place with chiefs.’
Nols bowed. ‘Our debt to him, and to you, can never be repaid. We have little enough to give, but whatever we have is yours. Boats for your journey. Food. Light, as far as we are able to supply it…’ She paused, waiting.
Lief took a deep breath. This was the opportunity he had been hoping for, but now that it had come he almost feared to take it.
‘There is one thing which only you can give us,’ he said slowly. ‘It is a treasure we dearly need—though only for a time. The mouthpiece of the Pirran Pipe.’
Nols stepped back, a stricken look on her face. The people behind her murmured and whispered.
Dismayed, Lief glanced quickly at Barda and Jasmine. Barda was frowning in angry disbelief. Jasmine, who still knew nothing of the Pirran Pipe, was simply confused.
‘I know we ask a great deal,’ Lief said, keeping his voice steady with difficulty. ‘But I beg you to consider our request. If we are to save our people from the Shadow Lord we must make the Pipe whole again. It is the one thing the Shadow Lord fears. The one thing that may give us time to—’