But something had changed. The stingers on the ground were shrivelling. The lumps of torn flesh were no longer dissolving into black slime and running back to the beast’s body, but were drying and hardening where they lay.
‘What is happening?’ Jasmine breathed. ‘It looks as if the beast can no longer renew itself. It is as if …’
‘As if the sorcery is failing,’ Lief said slowly.
His eyes moved to the Sister of the South. Through the veil of dust that masked it, he could see that its red veins had dimmed. And—and surely its song was lower, less piercing than it had been before.
‘The evil is less,’ the dragon murmured. ‘Ah … that is better. That is much better.’
Lief glanced at it. Its golden eyes were open once more. Its scales were gaining colour by the moment. The blood had ceased flowing from its terrible wounds. The muscles of its jaw rippled beneath his hand as it relished its returning strength.
‘The Sister is dying,’ Jasmine whispered. ‘But why? Is it the Belt? Steven and Nevets? The sunlight?’
Bewildered, Lief looked back at the fading false gem lying in the dust, and then at the fighting beast.
It was a miracle. Just at the moment when it had seemed that all was lost, the power of the Sister had begun to fail.
And the beast knew it. Confusion and panic mingled with the savagery in the dog face’s eyes. The beak of the bird face gaped wide, striking wildly at Steven as if it could not even see his slashing sword.
Steven cried out with pain as the cruel beak of the bird face struck his sword arm, tearing downward. He staggered, clutching the terrible wound. The sword fell from his hand. The bird face screeched in triumph. The dog face slavered and snapped.
And with a thunderous roar of rage Nevets plunged forward, mighty arms outstretched, terrible claws extended, and ripped the beast’s head from its body.
For a long moment, the scene seemed frozen. Nevets stood snarling, holding up the glistening, two-faced head to the sun as if offering it to the heavens. The headless mass of the beast shuddered in front of him.
Then abruptly Nevets threw his hideous prize to the ground and stamped on it, stamped it to jelly. And the headless body collapsed like an empty black sack, crumpling into the dust.
Nevets threw up his head and roared, beating his chest. Then, as if suddenly remembering their existence, he swung around to face Lief, Jasmine and the dragon. His dark eyes were empty of thought, burning with the desire to go on killing and killing …
‘No!’ gasped Steven. ‘They are friends!’
But Nevets seemed not to hear him. He bared his teeth savagely and gathered himself, ready to spring.
The dragon growled, deep in its throat. Lief reached for his sword and Jasmine raised her dagger.
‘Nevets!’ Steven shouted desperately. ‘I am injured. I need your strength. Return to me, my brother!’
Nevets hesitated. His brutish face twisted as two powerful emotions struggled within him.
‘Nevets!’ Steven pleaded.
It was enough. Nevets turned on his heel and in two strides was at his brother’s side. He took Steven’s injured arm tenderly in both his enormous hands. And the next moment, he was no longer a solid figure, but a pillar of blinding yellow light.
Lief could not look at it. He had to turn away. And when he looked back, the savage golden giant with the mane of dark brown hair was gone, and only the golden-haired, brown-skinned Steven remained.
‘Now!’ Steven rasped, stumbling aside.
The dragon roared, and a plume of golden fire engulfed the dimming Sister of the South. The false gem shone dully in the blaze, then glowed red as a hot coal. Its song became a whine. The red deepened to scarlet and then to a dull brown.
The dragon hissed. And this time the narrow jet of flame that shot from its mouth was white hot. The Sister began to shrivel.
The heat was so intense that again Lief had to turn away. But always he kept his left hand on the dragon’s scales, and his right hand on the topaz.
He heard the Sister’s whining song rise, rise, and then—stop.
The silence was dizzying.
Slowly, Lief opened his eyes. Where the Sister of the South had been, there was just a tiny heap of white ash, already scattering in the breeze.
‘So that is that,’ growled the dragon, with great satisfaction. ‘It is over.’
The silence was abruptly broken by noise from above. Lief looked up. The masked people lining the edge of the pit were on their feet, cheering, shouting and stamping.
Towering among them was Barda, his arms raised in triumph, Filli squeaking on his shoulder. Beside Barda was the small blue figure of Manus, jumping up and down as if his feet were springs. Gla-Thon was there, too, bow and arrows still clutched in her hand.
And on Barda’s other side was the tall straight figure of Lindal of Broome. Lief stared, overjoyed. Lindal had survived! One of her arms was strapped in a rough sling. She was cheering with all the rest. But her eyes were fixed on the dragon, and in her good hand she held a spear.
As Lief and Jasmine staggered upright, Steven approached them, grinning shakily.
It is over.
Lief knew that this was a moment for relief and celebration. The people above him were delirious with joy. Yet he felt nothing.
‘This seems like a dream,’ Jasmine murmured, echoing his thoughts. ‘At the end, it all happened so fast. It does not seem real.’
‘It is real enough. And it was a near thing, too,’ Steven said.
‘You and your brother did well, man of the Plains,’ the dragon said, eyeing him with interest. ‘But do not be too proud. By the time your battle ended, the enemy had lost much of its power.’
‘Indeed?’ Steven said politely. ‘Then my brother and I were fortunate.’
Lief was barely listening. He was looking at the drying black scraps that were all that remained of the two-faced beast.
‘The beast did not transform,’ he said slowly.
‘Perhaps it was too badly damaged,’ Jasmine said. ‘Or it may not have had a human form after all.’
‘Perhaps,’ Lief murmured. ‘But the guardian of the north conjured up a phantom to hunt us on the way to Shadowgate. What if the guardian of the south had the same power, but even greater? What if the black slime was—sent?’
‘But surely the guardian would have to go into some sort of trance to accomplish such a feat!’ Jasmine exclaimed. ‘And the palace is full of people. The danger of discovery would have been—’
‘There would have been little danger of discovery if the dread work was done in the dead of night,’ Lief broke in. ‘And that was when it was done—until yesterday, just before dawn, and today, when—’
And at that moment a memory flashed into his mind. A memory. A face. A name.
He shook his head. Surely it was not true. He could not bear for it to be true. Yet as he thought frantically, searching for another answer, many things that had puzzled him fell horribly into place.
‘You had better return to your people, king of Deltora,’ the dragon said sharply. ‘At present they seem happy, but I do not trust them. At any moment they may take it into their heads to attack me again, and I am not yet ready to fight, or to fly.’
Lief did not waste words in argument. The dragon had good reason to distrust the people of Del. And he, too, felt that his place was above.
There was someone there he had to meet.
15 - The Hidden Enemy
By the time Lief, Jasmine and Steven had climbed out of the pit, word had spread in the crowd that the plague was, after all, no threat. All but a few cautious souls had once again discarded their masks. Guards and townspeople alike were rejoicing.
Steven mumbled something about finding Zerry, and slipped away. Lief guessed that the thought of facing the curious glances of the crowd made him uneasy.