The end of the bar battered straight into the weakened spot. A huge piece of marble broke away and fell, smashing on the ground.
‘And again!’ Barda roared.
Again they lunged forward. And this time, when they drew back, the ground at their feet was heaped with smashed marble, the air was full of dust, and most of the platform’s side was nothing but a gaping black hole.
They let the bar fall. It crashed to the ground with a dull, ringing sound. Barda bent forward, his hands on his knees, panting.
Lief’s hands were slippery with sweat. Sweat was dripping into his eyes and soaking his hair. He wiped his brow dazedly with the sleeve of his jacket, and realised that his hands were trembling.
The black hole loomed before him, dark as pitch, gaping like the entrance of a tomb. He could see nothing inside it. Fear twisted in his stomach.
Jasmine pushed a candle into his hand. The flame wavered dangerously as he bent in front of the hole. Holding his breath, he thrust the candle forward …
Except for a scattering of broken marble, the cavity was completely empty.
‘There is nothing here,’ Lief called, his voice echoing eerily against the marble walls. ‘There is nothing—’
The candle fell from his shaking hand. It rolled twice and then lay still on the base of the cavity. Its struggling flame flickered on the flat, grey stone that lay beneath the rubble of broken marble.
Lief’s mouth went dry. He crouched, grasped the dying candle and swept it from side to side, clearing the chips of marble away.
‘On the floor,’ he said in a low voice.
Barda and Jasmine knelt beside him, each holding a fresh candle. By the flickering light they all read the words on the stone—words still as sharp and clear as the day they were carved.
Lief felt his face grow hot with fury. A wave of trembling sickness swept through him and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass. He did not know if the sickness was caused by the evil of the stone or by the Toran Plague. It did not matter. All that mattered were the sneering words on the stone—the words of the Shadow Lord, meant for him, only for him.
‘This verse is not like the verses on the stones in the east, north and west,’ Jasmine muttered, putting Lief’s raging thoughts into words. ‘Those others were true warnings, intended for the eyes of any passing stranger. This is—personal.’
‘Indeed,’ Lief said thickly. ‘It is a dare. The Enemy is daring me to look beneath the stone. As once he dared me to look for the first part of the map.’
He remembered the voice of the Shadow Lord, hissing through the crystal.
… this king will never find it. I dare him to try, and go more quickly to his death …
But I did find the first part of the map, and I did not die, Lief thought. Then I found the second part, and the third, and the last. And I am still here.
But he knew that the Enemy had planned for this, too. The message on the stone proved it.
Plans within plans …
‘Smash the evil, sneering thing,’ Jasmine muttered. ‘Smash it to pieces!’
‘Stand aside,’ Barda said grimly, getting to his feet and reaching for the iron bar.
Lief and Jasmine scrambled out of his way.
And Barda, teeth bared in a snarl of hatred, smashed the end of the iron bar down on the warning stone. He struck once, twice … and on the third stroke there was a sharp crack and a brilliant flash of white light.
Barda staggered back, his hands pressed to his eyes. The heavy bar fell, clanging, to the ground. Cracks ran crazily over the stone till the whole flat, carved surface was a maze of black lines. Then, suddenly, the shattered stone fell away, fell with a sound like thundering hail. And all that was left in its place was a yawning pit from which evil poured like a thick, vile smell.
Jasmine cried out and covered her face. Lief fell to his knees and stared. His eyes were watering, but he could not look away.
For down in the centre of the darkness something gleamed—something as beautiful and beckoning as one of the gems on the Belt of Deltora.
The Sister of the South.
12 - Creeping Darkness
Shouts of terror and warning were echoing in the entrance hall. The sounds floated into the chapel, but Lief did not hear them. He was staring down into the pit, staring at the shining thing that lay there.
He could see it clearly now. It was a great gem, grey as the evening sky, but swirling with lines of scarlet light. It was singing to him, singing the song of his land, the song that was part of him, the song he had first heard in the cradle, without knowing it.
It was beautiful, alive, filled with terrible power.
He knew that if only he could touch it, hold it, have it for his own, he could do anything—anything in the world.
I did not understand, he thought, awe-struck. I did not dream …
He slid his hands over the marble floor tiles that edged the pit. With his fingers he felt the rough, sawn edges of the wood beneath.
In his mind he saw dark figures cutting through the chapel floor. He saw the shining gem lowered into place, and the stone placed over the gap in the floor, to seal it. He saw the marble platform being constructed, to conceal what lay beneath.
Long ago, so long ago … and ever since, the wonder had lain in the darkness, singing the song of its power, and waiting, waiting for him.
‘LIEF!’ The bellow penetrated his consciousness. He stirred irritably, turned to see who had interrupted him.
A frizzy-haired gnome stood at the door of the room, waving her arms at him. Lief frowned. Perhaps he knew her face. He could not remember. But did the fool not realise that he had no time for her ravings now? Could she not feel the power—?
‘Lief, you must come!’ the gnome gabbled. ‘The golden dragon—the dragon I injured—it is flying over the city! It is roaring, breathing fire. Lief—’
Her voice, harsh as the screeching of a raven, broke off. Her face paled. Her foolish eyes widened. She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms about her head.
Lief smiled. Now she feels it, he thought. He began to turn back to the pit.
‘Gla-Thon—get away from here!’ a shaking voice called behind him.
Jasmine’s voice.
Jasmine …
Lief paused, a shadow of doubt flitting across his mind. For a moment he had forgotten Jasmine existed. How could that be?
‘Paff is dying,’ the gnome whimpered. ‘The plague is eating her alive. Her eyes have rolled back in her head. Her limbs have become rigid as stone. I could not lift her. I had to leave her. Then—I saw—the dragon. The people in the city—screaming, running …’
Lief swayed. The power in the pit was calling him. He longed to turn to it once more, feast his eyes on its beauty, lose himself in its wonder, and at last slip silently into the soft, thick darkness to take it for his own.
Then there would be no more pain, no more fear. There would be nothing he could not do, nothing he could not have.
But he did not turn. Something deep within him was resisting, holding him back.
What was it? Numbly his mind groped for the answer, and caught hold of that frail, fluttering shadow of doubt.
Jasmine …
If he had forgotten Jasmine, what else had he forgotten? What else …?
There was a roar like a clap of thunder, and a shuddering thud. The outside wall of the chapel shook.
Gla-Thon cried out in terror.
A soft voice whispered in Lief’s mind, hissing through the song of the Sister of the South.
I am with you, king of Deltora. We are separated only by a little earth and stone, and that will soon be gone.
The dragon of the topaz, Lief thought, almost in surprise. It is there, in the palace garden, on the other side of the wall.