The people shook their heads and scribbled again. Barda bent, frowning over the lines.
“They say she cannot be killed,” he said at last, reluctantly. “The only way to kill a witch is to draw blood. And Thaegan’s whole body is armored by magic. Many have tried to pierce it. All have failed, and died.”
Lief glanced at Jasmine. Her eyes were fixed on Kree, who was flying high above them, stretching his wings.
Lief bit his lip and looked back at the Ralads. “Then we will hide from her,” he told them. “We will hide, we will creep, we will do everything we can to avoid her notice. But we must go to the Lake of Tears. We must.”
The tallest of the Ralads, a woman called Simone, stepped forward and scrawled on the ground.
“We cannot tell you why,” said Barda. “But please believe that we do not go into danger out of reckless foolishness. We are pledged to a quest that is for the good of Deltora and all its people.”
Simone looked at him keenly, then slowly nodded. And after that the Ralads stood aside and let the travelers walk down the narrow path that wound away from the village.
Manus led the way, his head high. He did not look back, but Lief did.
The people were standing very still, crowded together, watching them. Their hands were pressed to their hearts. And they did not move until the travelers were out of sight.
By mid-afternoon the way had grown rough and the hills more rugged. Dead trees held bleached, white branches up to the pale sky. The grass crackled under the travelers’ feet, and the low-growing bushes were dusty and dry.
There were scuttlings in the bushes, and rustlings in dark holes beneath the tree roots, but they saw no living creature. The air was heavy and still, and it seemed hard to breathe. They stopped for food and water, but sat only for a short time before moving on. The scuttling sounds were not pleasant, and they had the feeling that they were being watched.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, Manus began to walk more and more slowly, his feet dragging as though he was forcing them to move. His companions trudged behind him in single file, watching the ground which had become treacherous, filled with cracks and holes and littered with stones. They all knew, without being told, that they were nearing the end of their journey.
Finally, they came upon a place where the bases of two steep, rocky hills met, making a narrow “V” shape. Through the gap they could see the red-stained sky and the fiery ball of the setting sun, glowing like a danger sign.
The Ralad man stumbled to a stop and leaned against one of the rocks. His skin was as grey as dust, his small black eyes were blank with fear.
“Manus, is the Lake —” Lief had not spoken for so long that his voice sounded like a croak. He swallowed, and began again. “Is the Lake just beyond these rocks?”
Manus nodded.
“Then there is no need for you to come any farther,” said Barda. “You have guided us here, and that is all we ask of you. Go home now to your friends. They will be waiting anxiously for your return.”
But Manus firmed his lips and shook his head. He took a stone and wrote on the rock.
This time Lief did not have to wait for Barda to read what the Ralad man had written. He had seen this message before. “You saved me twice from death. My life is yours.”
He, Jasmine, and Barda all began to speak at once, but nothing they could say would change Manus’s mind. In fact, their arguments seemed to strengthen him. His breathing slowed, his color returned, and his dull eyes began to shine with determination.
At last, he decided to take action. He turned abruptly and almost ran to the gap between the rocks. In moments he had disappeared from view. They had no choice but to run after him.
They stumbled through the narrow passage in single file, keeping as close to the Ralad man, and to one another, as they could. So intent were they on their task that they were not prepared for what they saw when finally they reached the end of the pass.
Not far below them was a murky lake ringed by banks of thick, grey mud riddled with what looked like worm holes. In its center a slimy rock oozed water which dripped ceaselessly into the pool, causing slow, oily ripples to creep across its surface.
Twisted, barren peaks of clay rose beyond the lake like haunted things. There was not one green, growing thing to be seen. There was no sound but the dripping of water and the faint, squelching movements of mud. There were no smells but damp and decay. It was a place of bitterness, ugliness, misery, and death.
Lief’s stomach churned. The Lake of Tears was well named. This, then, was what the sorceress Thaegan had made of the town of D’Or — the town that Jasmine had said was “like a garden.” He heard Barda cursing softly beside him, and Jasmine hissing to Filli and Kree.
Manus simply stared, shivering, at the horror he had heard of all his life, but never seen. The demonstration of Thaegan’s jealousy and wickedness. The evil that had caused his people to speak out, and receive a terrible punishment.
“Is the Belt warm?” Barda murmured in Lief’s ear. “Does it feel the presence of a gem?”
Lief shook his head. “We must go closer,” he whispered back.
Manus glanced at him curiously. They had spoken in low voices, but he had heard what they had said.
He has come this far with us, Lief thought. We must tell him something of what we are trying to do, at least. He will certainly find out in the end, if we are successful.
“We are searching for a special stone that we believe is hidden here,” he told the Ralad man carefully. “But the matter is a deadly secret. If we find what we seek, you must tell no one, whatever happens.”
Manus nodded, his hand on his heart.
Slowly they scrambled down the last of the rocks until they reached the mud that circled the Lake.
“This mud may not be safe,” murmured Jasmine, remembering the quicksand.
“There is only one way to find out,” Barda said, and stepped forward. He sank to his ankles in the fine, grey ooze, but that was all.
Cautiously, the others joined him. Dropping the bags from their backs, they walked together to the edge of the Lake, their feet leaving deep holes where they trod. Lief crouched and touched the water with the tips of his fingers.
Immediately, the Belt around his waist warmed. His heart gave a great thud.
“The gem is here,” he said in a low voice. “It must be somewhere under the water.”
His ankle itched and absent-mindedly he put down his hand to scratch it. His fingers touched something that felt like slimy jelly. He glanced down and cried out with disgusted horror. His ankle was covered with huge, pale worms. Already they were swelling and darkening as they sucked his blood. He leapt up and kicked wildly, trying to shake them off.
“Be still!” shouted Jasmine. She sprang forward and caught Lief’s foot in her hand. Her mouth twisted with distaste, she began pulling the squirming things off one by one, flicking them aside.
The swollen bodies scattered onto the grey mud and into the water, and Lief’s stomach heaved as other mouths, other crawling hungers of every shape and size, coiled out of the ooze to snatch them up as they fell.
Suddenly the mud was alive with slimy things twisting, creeping, slithering out of hiding. They fought for the worms, tearing them to shreds, and in seconds were winding around the travelers’ feet and legs, wriggling eagerly upwards to find warm, bare flesh on which to feast.
Jasmine could help Lief no longer. Now his ears were ringing with her panic-stricken cries, and Barda’s, as well as his own. Manus could not cry out. He was staggering, nearly covered by coiling shapes — shapes with no eyes, shapes that made no sound.
There was no hope. Soon they would be overwhelmed — eaten alive …