There was a sound behind them. Prin glanced over her shoulder nervously, then gave a start. Barda had begun pulling sheets of bark from the roof of the little hut. Already three large pieces lay beside him on the ground.
“Oh, do not do that!” she begged, hurrying over to him. “The gnomes will be angry. Do you not see their warning sign?”
“I care nothing for that,” snorted Barda, pulling a fourth sheet onto the ground. “They have already shown they are our enemies. In any case, they have plainly abandoned this hut to the forest. And this bark will be very useful to us.”
Prin stared at him, and Lief and Jasmine also raised their eyebrows in surprise. Smiling, Barda tapped the bark sheets with his foot. “This is Boolong bark,” he said. “See how hard it is? Yet it is light to carry, and slightly curved too. With vines to bind them, these pieces will make excellent shields. Shields that will stop any arrow — and will protect us from the Boolong thorns.”
They spent the next half hour binding vine strongly around the bark pieces so that they could be held easily from the back. Standing behind their shields’ protection all the companions felt safer.
“You must always carry your shield in your weaker hand,” Barda instructed. “Then your strong hand is left free for fighting. It is tiring at first, but you will soon get used to —”
He broke off, startled, as Jasmine suddenly jumped up and raised her finger to her lips. “I hear voices,” she breathed. “And feet. Marching feet.”
Lief and Barda listened carefully and at last heard a faint, buzzing, rhythmic sound, like harsh chanting or singing, coming from further down the Mountain.
“Gnomes,” whimpered Prin.
The sound was coming closer, growing louder by the moment.
They pushed deep into the trees and crouched together in a tight circle, their shields held up around them like a wall. The sound of gruff singing and feet marching in time grew louder. Yet there was no noise of cracking branches or of weapons slashing at spiny leaves, and the marching feet did not hesitate as they passed by somewhere just out of sight.
“There must be a road nearby,” Barda breathed.
As the singing began to fade away into the distance, the companions crept from their hiding place and began forcing a path in the direction from which the sound had come. Sure enough, in a short time they found themselves standing on a narrow track that wound away towards the top. It was so overhung with tree branches that it was like a tunnel.
Lief groaned. “We might have known that the gnomes would keep at least one path clear. No doubt this trail leads all the way from the bottom of the Mountain to the top! If only we had found it before!”
“That troop of gnomes must have been at the bottom of the Mountain before the storm struck,” Barda said. “I wonder what business they had there? Bad business, I suspect, for the only thing at the Mountain’s base is the road to the Shadowlands.”
“But the gnomes are not friends of the Grey Guards,” squeaked Prin, speaking up for the first time since they heard the sound of marching feet. “They hate them, and plague them with evil tricks. Mother told me about it often. Those skulls by the gnome-rest — they are probably Guards’ skulls.”
“Many years have passed since your mother lived on Dread Mountain, Prin,” Lief said gently. “Now the gnomes are allies of the Shadow Lord.”
Prin shook her head, but perhaps the last few days had helped her to grow up a little, because she did not go on arguing, insisting that she was right. Instead she simply gripped her shield more firmly and followed as the companions began the long climb towards the Mountain top.
The sun was going down and it was growing very cold when finally they reached the end of the road. The climb had been hard, but without trouble of any kind. Not a single gnome had crossed their path. And now, as they peered cautiously around the last bend, they could see no sign of life or movement. All was utterly still.
“Where are they hiding? Be ready. We may be walking into a trap,” muttered Barda. But nothing stirred, and no arrows flew, as they began to cross the cleared space beyond the road, looking up at the towering cliff of rock that now barred their way.
There were no trees here. The earth on which they walked was bare, white chalky stuff, packed hard by the tread of feet, littered with discarded arrows. The top of the Mountain, hidden in swirling clouds, was still high above their heads.
Jasmine summoned Kree to her shoulder and drew her dagger. “It is some sort of trick,” she whispered. “The gnomes we heard could not have disappeared. And the others — the ones who shot at us when we landed — were here. Somewhere, they are waiting.”
The cliff rose dark and ominous before them. At first they could see nothing odd about it except for a few small holes dotted over its surface. But as soon as they drew close enough, they saw where the gnomes had gone.
There was a narrow door in the cliff, carved from solid rock. It was dark at the top, light at the bottom. No attempt had been made to disguise it — in fact, the larger pale section had been decorated with grooved lines, and at one side there was a round stone doorknob which had a deep carving in the shape of an arrow in its center. But the knob would not turn, and pull and push as they would, the door would not open.
“Gnome tricks!” growled Barda, running his fingers over the stone and pressing vainly here and there.
“Why do you want to get in?” Prin whispered nervously. “Surely this is the gnomes’ stronghold. Where they eat and sleep. And where they keep their treasure.”
“Exactly,” Barda frowned, still testing the stone.
“The decorations are only on the bottom part of the door, the light part,” said Lief. “That may be a clue.”
He moved very close to the cliff and peered at the seemingly empty space at the top of the door. The dark, uneven rock blurred before his eyes, but he was sure he could make out marks that were not natural.
“There is something carved here,” he muttered. “Words, I think. But they are so small, and the rock is so dark, that I cannot make them out.”
He pulled his cloak and his shirt aside to uncover the Belt of Deltora and noticed at once that the ruby’s rich red had faded to dull pink — a sign that danger threatened. I do not need warning of that, he thought grimly. I know only too well that we are going into danger.
His fingers moved towards the topaz. It had sharpened his wits before. Perhaps it would help him now.
But before he had even touched the gem an idea came to him. He bent, scraped up a handful of the white dust beneath his feet, and smeared it over the dark rock. Then he brushed the loose dust away. The dust that remained caught in the carved letters made them show quite clearly:
“This rhyme is very childish,” frowned Jasmine. “It reminds me of rhymes my father taught me when I was very young. And it was not difficult to make the words visible. These gnomes are not so clever.”
“They are careless too,” said Barda, picking up an arrow from the ground. “If arrows are keys to their door, they should not leave them lying around. And as for finding the arrow’s mate upon the gate …”
He dug the point of the arrow into the carving on the doorknob. The arrow slid into place easily, like a key slipping into a lock. As Barda had suspected, there was a keyhole at the bottom of the carving. Gripping the shaft of the arrow firmly, he turned it until there was a slight but definite click.
“It is unlocked. Shall we go in?” he asked, turning to his companions and drawing his sword.
“No!” Prin begged, unable to keep silent any longer. “You say the gnomes are not clever, but they are, they are! They love tricks and traps. This is their door. If we use it we will die. I know it!”