Dragon's Nest

4 - Act of Faith

Jasmine was waiting at the partly open forge gates, Kree motionless on her shoulder. Both were lit by a weird red glow, and shadows leaped behind them.

Above, the great golden circle of the moon floated just clear of treetops that looked like black paper cutouts against the grey sky.

As the strange procession from the palace stumbled into view, Kree gave a harsh cry. It was plainly a signal, for it was answered by a shout from within the forge. The red glow brightened. Jasmine pushed the gates fully open.

Now the struggling guards could see the fiery blaze within, and the powerful figure of the blacksmith working the bellows, increasing the heat, the muscles of his bare arms gleaming with sweat.

‘Jasmine! Stay—back,’ Lief gasped, as the men behind him pressed forward, groaning under the weight of their terrible burden. But either he spoke too softly for Jasmine to hear, or she chose not to listen. She darted towards him. In another moment her arm was around his waist, and she was half-supporting him as they moved through the gateway.

Feebly he tried to push her away.

‘Don’t, Lief,’ she snapped. ‘If Barda can stand against him, so can I!’ Even as she spoke, the blood was draining from her face, but she held him tightly, and together they moved on.

They drew closer to the fire, and closer, till they could feel the burning heat on their faces. The blacksmith looked up as they approached. But still he worked the bellows, and the fire in the forge was like liquid flame.

‘It is as hot as I can make it,’ he shouted over the roaring sound.

The faces of the guards changed as they recognised him, as they saw with awe that this man with the strip of rag bound round his brow, the blacksmith with sweat pouring from his black-streaked face, was the legendary Doom.

Doom. The strange name moved between them, whispering in the heated air. Doom. It is Doom.

Doom, the mysterious, scar-faced leader of the Resistance in the time of the Shadow Lord. Doom, the stern, solitary traveller. Doom the ruthless one, who still held the ruffians of Deltora in the palm of his hand.

Doom, who had once sacrificed his whole world for his king.

And here he stands, Lief thought. In the place where he belonged, before the Shadow Lord came, and everything changed. Where once he mended ploughs, forged swords and made shoes for horses. Where my gentle, gallant father stood, too, in his time. And where, long ago, Adin made the Belt of Deltora.

He stared at the glaring forge. Always before, it had been used to create. Now, it was to be used to destroy. If he could find the strength.

You cannot defeat me …

He saw that the guards had begun to struggle. It was as if the thing they carried had suddenly become ten times heavier. They were dragging it now. Two were already on their knees.

You cannot defeat me …

Through a fiery haze Lief saw Barda push between the men and grasp their shrouded burden with his own hands. Veins stood out in his neck as he heaved, his teeth bared, the great muscles of his arms and shoulders bulging through his shirt.

The thing shifted a little. Barda heaved again. Closer to the flame, a little closer … close enough. But now …

‘They will never be able to lift it onto the forge,’ Lief thought suddenly.

Pain pierced his head, doubling him over, tearing him from Jasmine’s grip.

Dimly he heard Doom and Barda shouting, Jasmine calling his name, but their voices were distant. The only voice that was strong and real hissed viciously in his mind, in the still centre of a whirlwind of pain.

I am too strong for you. You cannot win …

Blindly, instinctively, Lief felt for the Belt of Deltora. His fingers found the topaz. The gem seemed to quiver at his touch. It seemed to melt into his fingertips, golden and warm. It seemed to become part of him.

Topaz, symbol of faith, he thought hazily. And into his clouded mind sprang an image of words on a printed page. Words he had suddenly remembered that morning in the library. Words from The Belt of Deltora, the small, blue book that once he had carried like a talisman:

The topaz is a powerful gem, and its strength increases as the moon grows full. The topaz protects its wearer from the terrors of the night. It has the power to open doors into the spirit world. It strengthens and clears the mind …

The pain in Lief’s brain began to ease. And as he slowly straightened and stood upright once more, it seemed to him that many others were crowding about him. Faces, clear and hazy, serious and serene. Shapes from the present, and the past. Dozens of voices, hundreds, drowning out that other voice, speaking separately and together …

Have courage, my son. We are with you.

We will help you, boy. Have faith …

King Lief … we are thinking of you, as you asked.

We would give you our lives …

Lief bent and seized the shrouded thing that stood before the forge, and it was as if hundreds of invisible hands were beside his own. He looked up, caught a glimpse of the panting, exhausted guards, Barda’s baffled face and Jasmine’s green eyes dark with fear.

‘Stand back!’ he shouted. And with one movement, he swung the evil thing up, up and slammed it upside down on the fiery forge.

Doom shouted in savage triumph. The guards groaned in amazement and terror.

The thick cloth covering burst into flames and disappeared in a cloud of ash. The wooden frame of the table, its stubby legs sticking upward, began to burn.

‘Get it off!’ shouted Doom. ‘The wood will choke the coals.’

Jasmine sprang forward and pulled the table frame up and away from the sorcerer’s glass it had supported for so long. She threw it aside, into the shadows, and it lay there, smouldering sulkily.

And then the crystal lay on the forge alone, revealed to all. It lay on the fiery coals, twisting like a live thing. Grey spirals edged with scarlet swirled on its rippling surface, and in its centre was a hollow, whispering darkness.

Barda turned to his guards. ‘Get out!’ he bawled. ‘Run! I order you!’

The guards scrambled up, and did as they were bid. They were strong, brave men, every one, but afterwards none was ashamed to admit that he had taken to his heels and run for his life, the night the crystal burned on the forge in Del.

Only Lief, Barda, Doom and Jasmine witnessed what happened next.

The crystal writhed, its centre darkened. Then, with a hideous, grinding sound it cracked from corner to corner. Red sparks flew upward from the crystal’s core, and a terrible howling filled the air.

Barda, Jasmine and Lief were thrown back, their hair flying about their faces as if blown by a fierce, hot wind. The bellows dropped from Doom’s hands and he clapped his hands over his ears, his face a mask of agony.

But the fire of Adin’s forge, where the Belt of Deltora had begun its life, burned on, relentless. The great topaz which had summoned both the living and the dead to Lief’s aid, gleamed golden as the full moon. And slowly, slowly, the howling died to a moaning hum, and the crystal began to cloud and soften.

Lief, Barda and Jasmine crawled to their feet. They saw that Doom had picked up the bellows and was moving back to his place by the forge. Doom’s face was drawn, but, gritting his teeth, he lifted the bellows and began raising the heat of the fire once more.

There was a sharp cracking noise. The humming abruptly changed to a low buzz that rose and fell as if hundreds of flies were trapped within the glass. Then, horribly, a thick, dull grey liquid began bubbling from the crack in the crystal, oozing across the glass surface.

Filled with disgust, Lief stumbled to where the huge hammer lay beside the forge. He picked it up, feeling its mighty weight. He took a sure grip on the familiar handle that had been polished to silken smoothness by so many hardworking hands. He turned …

‘Come closer, Slave!’

The Shadow Lord’s voice hissed from the crystal. Lief jumped, almost losing his footing as the weight of the hammer dragged him off-balance. He felt a split second of shock mingled with crushing disappointment. Then he heard the second voice.

‘Yes, Master.’

It was a thin, cold voice, faint, but clear. And it, too, had come from the crystal.

Lief heard Jasmine and Barda exclaiming behind him. He saw Doom’s eyes widen in disgusted horror. The oozing liquid on the surface of the crystal was forming into the shape of a thin, cruel face. The shape’s writhing lips moved.

‘I am here, Master. What is your will?’

‘Is the idiot boy Endon proclaimed king, Slave?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘And the Belt?’

One side of the grey face sliding on the glass bulged hideously, then shrank back into place. The thin lips curved into a smile. ‘The Belt has been returned to the tower. It awaits your pleasure.’

‘Ah …’ The hissing voice sighed with evil satisfaction.