Sister Of The South

13 - The Sister of the South

Lief hit powdery earth, and rolled. The song of the Sister was like a knife cutting into his brain. He groaned in agony and curled himself into a ball, his eyes screwed shut. But still he gripped the Belt of Deltora, gripped it so tightly that his hands ached, and slowly, slowly the soothing power of the amethyst, the strength of the diamond, gave him the will to open his eyes.

He was lying beside a stone wall. The outside wall of the palace, he thought dimly, for through it he could hear the roars of the dragon, and the sound of digging. Painfully he turned his head.

There, not far away, lay the Sister of the South.

It was exactly the size and shape of the seven great talismans in the Belt of Deltora, but he could see it now for what it was—a false gem, a jeering copy.

Beneath its perfect, polished surface, beneath the veins of angry red that twisted and flashed in imitation of life, it was cold, dead grey to its core.

Lief stared at it in fascinated repulsion. Now, with the real gems of the Belt warm beneath his fingers, he could not imagine how he had ever desired it. Yet still he found it hard to tear his eyes away and look above it, to the square hole in the cavern roof.

Dim light shone through from the chapel above, but only a little, for the space was almost filled with bulging, oozing blackness.

Lief’s heart thudded. As he had planned, the guardian was coming after him, and coming in haste. He could only hope that the threat he posed to the Sister of the South had been enough to make it gather all its forces together, to leave Jasmine and Gla-Thon before it was too late.

He crawled to his knees and then, painfully, to his feet. Above his head ran the huge lengths of wood that supported the chapel floor. There was just enough height for him to stand upright.

He watched the hole in the roof intently, waiting for a black stream to begin pouring to the ground. Behind him, through the agonising ringing in his ears, he could hear the dragon’s roars, very near. And he could feel—he was sure he could feel—heat radiating from the stones at his back.

The dragon has uncovered the wall, he thought. It is breathing fire onto the stones. Soon the mortar between the stones will crumble, as it did in the chapel. The stones will loosen and the dragon will be able to rake them away. If only it can reach me before the guardian does! If only …

Make haste! he urged silently. You are nearly there.

The only answer was a gust of pain.

And now Lief realised that other sounds were mingling with the dragon’s roars. Through the cracks in the wall he could hear roaring voices and the clash of metal.

The guards! he thought in horror. The guards are attacking the dragon.

He wanted to turn, press himself against the wall and scream to the guards to stop. But he knew it would be useless. The men would not hear him. And he did not dare to take his eyes from the hole in the roof, from the crawling blackness that hung there.

He licked his lips nervously. The black slime was moving, rippling downward, he could see it. Why was it not falling?

Then he glanced beyond the hole, at the great beams of wood that made the roof of his prison. And with a thrill of terror, he understood.

The timbers were black with slime. The slime was surging towards him across the roof. It had almost reached him.

With a cry he threw himself to one side. At the same moment, with a harsh, grating sound, a block of stone was ripped from the wall.

Light poured through the gap. Smoky air came with it, and a tumult of sound—shouting, screaming, the furious roars of the dragon.

And then one voice rose above all the rest, bellowing angrily. Lief thrilled as he heard it.

‘Stop, you blundering oafs! Throw down your arms! Get back!’

Barda! Somehow Barda had found his way out of the chapel. He was there, on the other side of the wall.

The shouting died away abruptly. Metal clanged on metal as the guards obeyed their chief’s order and cast their weapons aside.

Another block of stone fell away, and another, and another. The golden scales of the dragon, its mighty, clawing talons, almost filled the gap. But still flashes of daylight pierced the dimness of the cavern, dancing on the false gem lying there.

The Sister’s glassy surface shone in the light, and its scarlet veins seemed to swell and brighten. Its high, ringing song rose to an ear-splitting wail. Evil belched from it like freezing wind.

Eyes streaming, Lief fell to his knees. He felt the dragon falter. And then, in terror, through the tears that blurred his sight, he saw blackness pouring from the roof of the cavern and forming itself into a bulbous mass, stingers sprouting from it like vines …

He knew he was screaming. But his voice was drowned by the wailing howl of the two-faced beast as it lunged towards him, stingers whistling through the air, glistening dog face snarling.

He could not move. He could not lift a hand to his sword. There was only one thing left in his power. He forced his fingers along the Belt till they found the topaz. He focused his mind on the great gem.

Have strength. Make haste. The beast is upon me …

The topaz burned beneath his hand. He felt a great surge of power, and with a thunderous crash the last of the wall burst inward.

The two-faced beast howled and screeched as great stones smashed its shapeless body down. And then, before Lief could gather his wits, there was a blur of gold and the flash of mighty talons, and he was raked, tumbling and gasping, out of the cavern and into the open air.

He lay choking, shuddering, half-buried in the dusty soil that the dragon’s talons had clawed out with him. He was lying face down, pressed against one of the dragon’s forelegs. Its scales felt slippery wet, and he could smell fresh blood. The song of the Sister filled his ears and his brain. It was louder—louder than ever.

And yet—yet surely he was further away from the Sister now. He was out of the cavern beneath the chapel. It was still within. Why …?

He forced his eyes open and his stomach turned over. The Sister was no longer underground. It was lying just outside the ruined palace wall, its red veins blazing through a fine coating of dust.

Intentionally or by accident, the dragon had pulled it out of the cavern with him. It was very near. Its evil was battering him into the earth.

And not only him. For now Lief became aware of sobbing and crying, groans of terror and despair. The sounds seemed to be coming from above. Making an enormous effort, he rolled on his side and looked up.

He and the dragon were at the bottom of the great pit the dragon had dug to expose the underground wall of the cavern. Above them, crowded around the edges of the pit were hundreds of people in red masks.

Many were palace guards, but many were not. People had come running from the city, full of courage, determined to defend the palace against the dragon. But now they were on their knees, moaning and sobbing, their hands pressed to their ears. The evil power of the Sister had beaten them down.

Only three people were still standing, huddled together on the side of the hole that was nearest to the back of the palace. They were right at the edge, but, squinting into the sun, Lief could not make out who one of them was. It was someone tall, in any case, standing a little behind the others. Doom, he guessed uncertainly.

But there was no mistaking the two at the front.

The two at the front were Barda and Jasmine. Jasmine was holding Barda’s arm. Her hair was whipping in the wind. She was swaying where she stood, and her face glimmered pale as moonlight. But she was alive. Alive!

Alive, only to die of the plague, a cold voice in his mind reminded him. Like Barda. Like you.

He shook the thought away. Whatever was to come, he was fiercely glad that his companions were with him now. He was glad that the enemy who had tried to destroy them was lying crushed and dead beneath the stones of the fallen wall.

If I survive this, I will know at last who our hidden enemy was, he thought. The guardian’s true form will be revealed in death. I will know …

Now, king of Deltora, while I still have the strength.

The dragon’s voice was faint, but still Lief heard it. He knew what was going to happen next. The dragon was going to use the last of its strength to destroy the Sister. It was going to rid its land of the menace that had invaded it, burn the evil thing to ashes.

He pressed his left hand to the dragon’s leg, and his right to the topaz. He stared with loathing at the Sister of the South, lying exposed in the dust.

For centuries it had poured misery into mourners in the chapel above its hiding place, and infected with despair the prisoners in the dungeons beside it. For centuries its poison had seeped through the earth into Del, into the Forests of Silence, into the Os-Mine hills, the farms, the shore, the sea, weakening what was good, strengthening what was bad.

Now its time was over.

He felt the dragon gathering its strength. He held his breath, bracing himself for the first blazing rush of heat.

Then he blinked. His mouth fell open and he moaned in disbelieving horror.

The gap in the palace wall behind the Sister was filling with oily blackness. He could actually see more of the liquid evil oozing from between the fallen stones inside the cavity, and joining the black mass in the gap. The two-faced beast had not been destroyed! It was forming again as he watched.

The black mass bulged outward, spilled onto the earth. The beast rose, vast and glistening in the sunlight, stingers budding in their hundreds from its shapeless body. Horribly, its two faces began to form—the dog face snapping and foaming, the red eyes of the bird face burning with hatred.

But even as the faces were still writhing into being, the beast was charging, stingers whipping the air.

Lief rolled desperately aside as, with a roar, the dragon half-spread its wings and rose on its hind legs to meet its foe. Flame gushed from the dragon’s jaws and the rippling flesh of the two-faced beast sizzled, quivered and shrank beneath the searing blast.

The beast howled, but this time it did not retreat. It lunged forward again, stingers slashing at the soft, pale underside of the dragon’s neck till the scales were crisscrossed with streaming lines of blood.

The dragon bared its shining, needle-sharp fangs, preparing to strike.

No! Do not bite! Lief thought frantically, struggling to reach his sword. That is what it wants you to do. It will fill your throat, stop your breath. Do not—

The dragon faltered, its spiked tail lashing uselessly against the earth walls of the pit. Then it drew back and again it roared, breathing a jet of fire. Again there was a hideous sizzling sound. The dog face howled ferociously as dozens of stingers withered and fell to dust and the flesh beneath them stiffened and burned.

Then without warning, the beast sprang. It surged forward like a great black wave, wrapping itself around the dragon’s neck. The dragon tried to free itself, clawing at its clinging attacker, cutting through stingers by the dozen. But the deep channels its talons carved in the oily, rippling flesh closed instantly, and for every stinger that fell, another grew, to join the others coiled around the dragon’s neck, cutting and tightening.

The dragon bellowed in agony. Its forelegs crashed to the ground. Still struggling, it rolled heavily onto its side.

‘No!’ Lief shrieked. At last he managed to grasp his sword, pull it free. Sweat pouring from his brow he staggered to his feet, and threw himself at the beast, slashing at it wildly.

The beast’s neck swivelled. The mad eyes of the dog face blazed at Lief. Foam sprayed from its snarling, snapping jaws. And at the same moment, the bird face gave a blood-curdling screech of triumph, and its cruel, hooked beak began to tear at the dragon’s throat.