‘Good,’ Jasmine said with satisfaction. ‘Now we should go.’
‘Indeed?’ snapped Barda. ‘With a dragon in Lief’s pocket? What do you think it will do when all the fish is gone?’
Jasmine shrugged. ‘I imagine it will go to sleep,’ she said.
They skirted the diamond dragon’s sad skeleton and, with Jasmine in the lead throwing fire beads to clear the way, began to move slowly forward.
The sound of the sea grew louder. The brightness of the Isle of the Dead began to fill the horizon. And at last they stepped out from among the lilies onto the narrow band of flat rock that formed the island’s rim.
The archway rose in front of them, craggy and dark. Wind whistled around it. Wild water raged beneath it, churned to thick white foam. The thought of using it as a bridge was terrifying.
‘Once the two islands were one, no doubt,’ Barda said. ‘The sea divided them—wearing the softer rock away till only the archway spanned the gap. Perhaps one day it, too, will fall.’
‘Not today, I hope,’ Lief said grimly.
He was not prepared for this. In his heart, he had always believed that a dragon would carry him and his companions to the Isle of the Dead.
But the dragon of the diamond was no more. In its place was a baby far too small to carry anyone. And there was no sign of the dragon of the amethyst. Veritas was still too weak to fly, it seemed.
‘Lief! We must move from here,’ Barda said urgently.
Lief glanced behind him. Fleshbanes had begun to creep down from the lilies on either side of the burned path. Already they were seething in a great semi-circle at the edge of the rock where the companions stood.
Hastily he began to climb, with Barda and Jasmine close behind him. He heard the roar of flame as Jasmine threw more fire beads down after them.
The arch began to curve over the sea. Lief flattened himself against the rock and crawled on his belly, trying not to think of the wind tearing at him, the sea roaring below.
He did not dare look up, even when he realised that he must have reached the highest point of the arch. But still he was aware of the blinding glare of the island ahead.
And evil, he thought. Evil and malice.
He could feel it, burning into his skin.
He began to move downward, picking his way along, determined not to slip. And slowly he became aware of a sound mingling with the roaring of the sea—a low ringing sound, growing louder and louder, boring into his ears and his mind.
The song of the Sister of the West.
Sweat broke out on Lief’s brow. His knees felt weak. But he forced himself to move on, to move towards the glaring light, towards the terrible sound.
Abruptly the slope became steeper. And then, without warning, the rough rock beneath Lief’s hands and knees changed to a surface as slippery as ice.
With a shout of warning he slithered forward. He could not stop himself, could not even slow. When at last he came to a halt, he desperately rubbed his watering eyes, trying to focus. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.
He was not far from the peak of an island that looked as if it was made of shining glass. There was not a tree or a bush or a blade of grass to be seen. Every surface was hard, smooth and slippery. Every surface blazed in the sunlight.
And every surface seemed to vibrate with the terrible, low ringing of the Sister of the West.
Lief lifted his eyes to the island’s peak. A huge cave gaped there—the only dark spot in all that world of glittering light.
There was the source of the sound. There the Sister lay hidden. He knew it without question.
Slowly and carefully he stood up. He looked down and his head swam. Far below him a great mat of seaweed drifted like a blot of ink in an ocean of brilliant blue, and creamy foam swirled among the jagged rocks of the shore.
He heard voices and turned. His companions were picking their way towards him, Kree flying slowly above their heads.
Only then did Lief remember the baby dragon. With a feeling of dread he lifted the flap of his pocket and peered inside. But the banging and jolting of his slide to the island had not disturbed the baby at all. It was curled up, breathing peacefully, fast asleep.
Barda and Jasmine reached him. Both were squinting in the glare, and both looked exhausted, as though already the place was draining their strength.
No doubt I look the same, Lief thought. And we have only just begun.
An overwhelming wave of despair rolled over him.
‘I do not know why we are here,’ he muttered. ‘Without a dragon to aid us, we cannot win. And there is no escape for us now.’
Jasmine and Barda looked at one another. Then Barda took Lief’s arm, turned him around and pointed towards the ground.
Lief shaded his eyes and looked. And there he saw, not two steps from where he was standing, a flat grey stone jutting from the glittering rock. It was a warning stone very like those they had seen in the east and the north, though more pitted by the weather and bearing a different verse.
Lief turned away from the dread thing, gritting his teeth. ‘I am a fool!’ he muttered. ‘Of course there would be a warning stone here, as there was in the east and the north! How could I have let it take me unawares, and cast me into despair?’
‘Do not blame yourself for that, Lief,’ Jasmine said restlessly, glancing at the standing stone then quickly looking away. ‘All along this quest has felt different from our times in the east and the north. For one thing, we have not been troubled by the guardian of the Sister of the West—if indeed there is a guardian at all.’
Lief made no reply. He had his own grave ideas about the guardian of the west, but he did not wish to speak of them. He did not want to think what they might mean.
Gingerly, their boots slipping dangerously on the treacherous rocks, the three edged past the grim stone and began to climb towards the peak.
It was slow and perilous work, and every moment it grew harder as the evil power streaming from the cave above grew stronger, pressing them down. Kree fluttered awkwardly ahead of them, his feathers ruffled, making no sound.
They stopped to rest on a flat rock that shone like a mirror. Her face strained and white beneath the streaks of ash and blood, Jasmine ran her hand over the glossy surface.
‘It is almost as if this has been painted with something clear, like lacquer—painted many, many times,’ she said, plainly trying to occupy her mind with something that did not fill her with fear. ‘I am sure there is ordinary rock deep beneath this surface. When you look closely, you can see it.’
‘Why would anyone paint rock?’ Barda grunted, wiping sweat from his furrowed brow. ‘Jasmine, I have been thinking of what you said—about there being no guardian of the west. Has it not struck you, that Ava, who was to be so helpful to us, according to her brother, nearly killed us twice?’
Barda had voiced Lief’s secret thoughts. Lief’s heart sank. He stared down at the blue sea crawling far below. He noticed idly that the drifting mat of seaweed that had looked like an ink-blot was gone, and wondered what had become of it.
‘First, Ava gave us a boat that sprang mysterious leaks in the middle of the channel, so we nearly drowned,’ Barda went on. ‘Then she sent us to the scarlet island without breathing a word of the flesh-eating horrors that infest it.’
Jasmine frowned.
‘Indeed,’ Lief said reluctantly. ‘I fear we must accept it. Either Ava is not what Tom thinks she is, or—’
‘Or Tom himself is as much a servant of the Shadow Lord as his brother and sister,’ Barda broke in heavily. ‘And to me this seems the more likely. Ava let slip that all three of them share minds. Surely, if she had joined Jack on the dark side, Tom could not help but know it.’
He was right. Lief knew that he was right. But he did not want to believe it. With all his heart, he did not want to believe it!