‘This tunnel leads to another Resistance cell, further west,’ said Claw. ‘We have not used it since the day of the Shadow Lord’s wrath, but it will be safer than the surface.’
He saw the companions hesitate, and raised his eyebrows. ‘We will go first, if you wish,’ he said.
‘Gers and Brianne first,’ said Barda. ‘You, Claw, between us.
Claw nodded shortly and ushered Gers and Brianne into the tunnel. Clearly they were used to it, for they entered without hesitation. Jasmine went next, then Emlis and Barda. When it was Claw’s turn, he took a last look around the cave and smiled bitterly.
‘When I came to this place, it was a mere hollow under the rock, just large enough for me hide in like a wounded animal,’ he said softly. ‘Then I heard water trickling below. Mad with thirst, I dug. I found the cave, and the water. The water comes underground from Deltora—from Dread Mountain, I think—for it fights the Shadowlands despair we call the Sadness. This place has been a refuge to me for a long time.’
‘I am sorry we have been the cause of your leaving it,’ Lief muttered, his conscience pricking him.
Claw’s smile broadened. ‘There is nothing to be sorry for. As soon as I saw the mines being abandoned and our people herded west, I knew that the time for hiding was at an end for me. While I could pretend that hiding served a purpose—pretend that saving a few people or killing a few Guards struck a blow against the Enemy—I could bear it. Now…’
He extinguished the torch, and followed Barda, with Lief close behind him.
The tunnel was dark and narrow. Claw’s people spoke little, and on the seemingly endless journey through cramped, musty blackness there was plenty of time for Lief to wonder if they were being led into a trap.
But at last the forward movement stopped. There was another grating sound as a stone blocking the tunnel was heaved aside. Then a long, low groan echoed back through the tunnel.
‘What is it?’ Lief heard Brianne whisper. ‘Gers!’
There was no answer. The forward movement began again as first Brianne, then those following her, joined Gers in the cave beyond the stone.
Lief heard a muffled cry, a torrent of whispers, then—nothing. With a feeling of dread, he crawled through the narrow opening after Claw.
No-one had lit a torch, but the cave was not dark. Cold white light streamed through its roof, which had been broken open like an eggshell. A thick layer of dust covered the remains of a few pathetic possessions scattered on the floor. Charred bedding. A broken bowl. Some scraps of clothing.
The Shadow Lord’s mark had been burned onto a rock wall spattered with blood.
It was clear what had happened here. Discovery. Attack. The very air seemed to reek of fear.
Lief moved stiffly to Barda, Jasmine and Emlis, who were standing motionless under the hole in the roof near the burned remains of a rough ladder.
‘Hellena,’ moaned Brianne, falling to her knees and pressing a tattered blue shawl to her cheek in an agony of grief. ‘Pi-Ban. Tipp. Moss. Pieter. Alexi…’
Claw’s thin lips were pressed together. He was so still that he seemed scarcely to be breathing.
Gers spat on the mark of the Shadow Lord. ‘It is fortunate for us that the Guards were too busy destroying to make a search,’ he muttered. ‘They did not find the tunnel. The rock was still in place.’
‘That does not mean they did not find it,’ Claw said grimly. ‘This plainly happened months ago, but they may still be waiting up above, like cats at a mouse hole.’
Brianne stood up, tall and straight, her gaunt, scarred but still beautiful face icy cold. ‘I hope they are,’ she said, and her fingers caressed the dagger at her belt.
It was then that Lief suddenly remembered where he had heard her name before. It had been on the road to Rithmere. Brianne of Lees had been spoken of as a great athlete, a Champion of the Rithmere Games. It was said that she had gone into hiding, to avoid sharing the wealth she had won with her village.
That story had been false. Wickedly false, for it had made her own people hate her, as no doubt she had been told by Guards only too eager to cause suffering. Lief wished he could tell her that her people now knew what had happened to her, and mourned her loss. But he could not speak. Not yet.
Jasmine murmured to Kree, who fluttered up to the hole in the roof. They saw the bird’s black shape outlined against the sky, yellow eye gleaming. Then Kree flew back to Jasmine’s shoulder and gave a series of low squawks. Jasmine’s face grew alert.
Gers cursed under his breath and felt for his talisman. ‘Do you see that?’ Lief heard him mutter to Claw. ‘The bird is speaking to her!’
‘So it seems.’ Claw’s keen eyes regarded Jasmine and Kree with interest.
‘Kree can see no Guards,’ Jasmine said. ‘But there is a large building a little to the west.’
‘That is the Factory,’ said Claw. ‘We must pass it to reach the Shadow Arena.’ His voice was low and even, but as he spoke a nerve twitched beside his eye and he unconsciously flexed his talons.
Gers glanced at him. ‘Better that we begin while it is still night, then,’ he growled.
Claw nodded shortly. Then, without another word, he strode to stand under the hole in the roof and jumped, catching the rim of the hole with his talons and hauling himself up into the open air.
Jasmine, Barda, Lief and Brianne followed, immediately turning to catch and lift Emlis as he was heaved upward by Gers. Gers himself came last, grunting and swearing with the effort, enormous hands grabbing for support, heavy legs kicking against the cave wall.
When finally he lay grumbling on the cracked clay, the companions were free to turn west, to look their fill at the long, dark mass that hulked in the distance.
The Factory sprawled almost to the mountains’ edge. Flame belched from its tall, thin chimneys, turning the boiling cloud above to scarlet. The very sight of it filled Lief with dread.
He turned to Jasmine and saw that she was staring fixedly at the shape ahead, her green eyes calculating, her mouth set with determination. Lief felt a stirring of unease. Why would Jasmine look like that?
They began walking in single file, keeping low, moving quickly through the open spaces between the scattered rocks. The chimney flames ahead leaped high, guiding their way. Their ears strained for sounds of danger, but all they could hear was a dull, low rumble that grew louder and louder with every step they took.
The flames grew closer. The rumbling sound grew more penetrating, till the air seemed to tingle with it, and the very earth under their feet seemed to vibrate. A ghastly sweet-sour smell gusted towards them on the wind.
Now Lief could see the brutal shape of the Factory, very close. He could see a broad road running beside it, leading west, then disappearing around a great hill. He could also see the source of the terrible odour. Enormous, shadowy mounds of garbage lay between the road and the mountains.
‘Those mounds will give us good cover,’ Barda muttered to Lief.
Claw turned. His face was gleaming with sweat. His eyes were glassy. His lips were fixed in a smile that looked more like a sneer. ‘Good cover,’ he repeated. ‘Oh, yes. I found them so.’
Then, abruptly his eyes widened. ‘Gers! Brianne!’ he cried harshly.
Lief spun around and saw, leaping towards them, a monstrous green man-shape with massive bowed shoulders, clawed hands and a lashing tail. The creature’s snake-like scales gleamed, its hideous lipless mouth split in a savage grin, its orange eyes burned.
Lief knew what it was. He had seen its like before, on Dread Mountain. It was the Shadow Lord’s creation, bred to fight. The ultimate killing machine. A vraal.
10 – The Mounds
The vraal’s terrible curved, knife-like claws were spread. Its tail lashed and broken clay sprayed up behind its cloven hoofs as it sprang forward. In seconds it would be upon them.