Sister Of The South

18 - The Revenge

The dragon flew faster than the wind, its golden scales glittering in the light of the huge, rising moon. The land slipped by beneath it. The first small lights were showing in villages and towns where people sat by their firesides, bathed their children or prepared their frugal meals, in ignorance of what was happening beyond the safety of their walls.

Flattened against the dragon’s neck, Lief, Barda and Jasmine thought of nothing but holding on. The cold became more intense as they moved inland. The freezing wind buffeted them mercilessly.

We are crossing the border into opal territory. I have broken my vow.

The voice of the dragon hissed in Lief’s mind. Defiance and regret were mingled in it, but there was no trace of fear.

If the opal dragon rises, I will explain, Lief replied.

The dragon snorted in grim amusement.

The land below them was flatter now, and more desolate. There were no more villages, no more towns. In the distance, water gleamed.

The bend of Broad River, Lief thought. We are nearly there.

His teeth had begun chattering again. The hair rose on the back of his neck as slowly he became aware of a sound rising beneath the rushing of the wind—a deep, ominous rumbling.

The next moment Jasmine screamed, and the dragon’s scaly hide twitched beneath Lief’s hands.

‘What do you see?’ Lief shouted. ‘Jasmine—?’

And then he saw for himself, and the breath caught in his throat.

Beyond the gleam of the water, something huge was rising—a vast, rounded thing like a hideous reflection of the golden moon.

‘By the heavens, what is it?’ Barda shouted hoarsely.

The dragon growled, deep in its throat. It flew faster, faster. Now the sweeping bend of the river was directly ahead of them. And they could see, enclosed within the bend, the gigantic, poisonous yellow bubble pushing upward through the ruins of the City of the Rats, pushing the damaged buildings aside as if they were children’s building bricks. A few rats were scattering from the ruins, squeaking shrilly as they ran.

Lief stared in terrified fascination as the bubble swelled and grew.

Their songs like secret rivers flow

To hold the peril deep below.

But the Sisters’ song lines flowed through the earth no longer. And like the beast in the tale, like the clown in Barda’s puzzle box, the Shadow Lord’s revenge was rising from its long darkness, for now there was nothing to hold it down.

In a dream of horror Lief saw water beneath him. They were crossing the Broad. And the thing rising from the ruins of the City was still growing, swelling from the earth like a hideous boil.

How close do you wish to—?

The dragon’s voice broke off as there was a thunderous roar from the other end of the plain. Something was hurtling towards them, rainbow colours flashing in the moonlight.

Instantly the dragon plunged earthward in a sickening dive. Lief, Barda and Jasmine shrieked as the ground came rushing up to meet them and they crashed to a stop. Dizzy and faint, their eyes streaming, they struggled to free themselves from the ropes that bound them.

‘Make haste!’ the dragon roared. It clawed at the ropes, cutting them through like threads.

The companions fell to the hard ground and rolled aside. The dragon spread its wings, preparing to take off once more.

‘No!’ shouted Lief. ‘Do not fight! Be still! Stay on the ground!’

‘And let that beast think I fear it? Never!’ snarled the dragon, steam hissing from its terrible jaws.

‘In Doran’s name, I beg you!’ Lief cried desperately.

The dragon growled. But it half-folded its wings and remained still.

The opal dragon was almost upon them. It was gigantic—even larger than the dragon of the emerald. The spines on its neck were fully raised. The beating of its wings was like thunder crashing, and the gale of its wingbeats hammered the ground.

The opal on the Belt was burning with rainbow fire. Lief pressed his fingers upon it, and sent his message with all the force of his being.

Dragon of the opal, do not attack! The topaz dragon is here at my wish.

He gasped as the opal dragon’s blind, vengeful fury flashed through him like a lightning bolt. Summoning his strength, he tried again.

Dragon, you are blinded by your anger. A great evil is rising in your land—afar greater evil than a dragon who has crossed a border. Open your eyes and see it! In Dragonfriend’s name, I beg you!

Again the name of Doran the Dragonlover worked its magic. Lief felt the rainbow dragon hesitate. He felt the battering of the wind on his back ease as the beast wheeled.

He crawled to his knees, looked ahead and groaned aloud.

The bubble had swelled even more. Its hideous bulk now completely covered the ruined city and rose as high as the palace in Del.

Lief stared at it in horrified fascination. At the bottom it was the same poisonous yellow as it had been before. But at the top it was paler—paler, tighter and shinier. As if … as if …

With a ghastly tearing sound the top of the bubble split open. A fountain of vile, dull grey liquid, thick as heavy cream, gushed up into the air.

Lief heard the dragons roar. He heard Barda and Jasmine crying out in revulsion beside him. And he heard something else, he was sure of it—the sound of distant, wicked laughter.

The spouting liquid began flowing to the ground, spreading outward in a thick grey flood.

‘What is it?’ Jasmine shrieked, her eyes wide with horror.

A red-eyed rat, more daring than the others, darted at the grey liquid, perhaps hoping it was something good to eat. The moment the liquid touched it, the rat stiffened and fell, its legs jerking convulsively.

The companions watched, horrified, as the grey liquid covered the rat’s twitching body and flowed on, moving very fast. The remaining rats shrieked and ran away from it, scattering outward across the plain.

‘It is poisonous,’ hissed Barda.

‘And it is alive,’ Lief muttered. ‘It is alive—and growing.’

He knew it was true. The thick, grey fluid was making more of itself, and more, feeding on the earth and the air.

There was a blaze of fire as the opal dragon swooped, roaring at the spreading circle of grey. Multi-coloured flame seared a great patch at the edge of the flood. The patch stiffened and hardened. The grey mass of liquid on either side of it closed in and flowed on, covering the burned place swiftly, as the rat had been covered.

The opal dragon wheeled and roared again. Again flame seared the moving ground, and again the burned place was smothered in an instant and the circle of grey grew larger.

‘We should return to the air, king of Deltora,’ the topaz dragon murmured, watching its rival’s efforts placidly. ‘The rainbow beast is well occupied. It will not trouble us. And the grey poison is spreading fast. This ground will not be safe for long.’

Plainly it was right. The companions scrambled back onto its neck, and in moments were gasping in the cold air, clinging for their lives as the dragon soared upward.

The beast flew a little way across the river, then turned in the air and hovered. ‘It is fortunate we did not delay,’ it commented.

Shivering, Lief, Barda and Jasmine looked down.

In the few minutes that had passed since the dragon took flight, the place where they had been standing had become a sea of grey. The whole of the land enclosed by the river bend was almost covered. Driven back to the river banks, hundreds of rats had begun leaping for the water, squealing in terror. Other rats were running for their lives across the plain to the north, just keeping ahead of a sweeping grey tide.

The opal dragon was wheeling over the grey sea, blasting it with rainbow fire. But the grey was still increasing, and every moment it seemed to be moving faster.

‘Nothing will stop it,’ Lief heard himself saying.

‘The river will stop it,’ Barda said firmly. ‘The Plain of the Rats is bounded by water on all sides. And the plain itself is no loss. There is no drearier place in the whole of Deltora.’

‘Very true,’ said the topaz dragon, yawning widely. ‘It is not territory worth saving.’

‘Would you feel the same if it was yours?’ Jasmine asked sharply.

The topaz dragon blinked.

The grey reached the river and began pouring over the banks into the water. And if anything the water seemed to strengthen it. The grey circle seemed to double in size almost instantly. The rippling water flattened and thickened. Squealing, swimming rats were overtaken and swallowed up.

Barda cursed in disbelief. Jasmine cried out.

The topaz dragon roared and arched its neck. Golden fire poured from its snarling jaws, searing the grey stream spilling over the river bank below.

But Lief was silent, looking back to the centre of the circle.

The collapsed yellow bubble was now hidden beneath a lumpy blanket of grey. The shapes of the ruins of the City of the Rats were visible around it—but only the shapes. Every ravaged building, every fallen tower, every brick and stone, was covered in a thick grey shroud.

And here the grey no longer moved, and no longer shone in the moonlight. It was setting hard.

Lief’s nightmare vision slid back into his mind, and his blood ran cold.

Grey, barren land. The skeletons of trees. A grey river, sluggish water thick as mud, with huge grey fish lying dead on the wrinkled surface … Monstrous creatures shrieking in the sky …

Not the Shadowlands, but Deltora. He knew that now.

This was a monster they could not fight. The grey tide would continue to spread. It would swallow rivers, forests and plains. It would cover towns and villages and farms. It would fill the valleys and smooth out the hills.

Nothing in its path would be spared. Death would come equally to the ferocious Sand Beasts and to the gentle Kin, to the flesh-eating Grippers and to the wondrous Lilies of Life.

Some of the grey would age and set hard, turning rivers to sludge, encasing houses, beasts, crops, trees and people alike in a shell of stone. The rest would move on.

The people who could outrun it would be driven to the coast, to fight over boats or mill helplessly at the water’s edge like the rats on the river bank. Or they would climb mountains and wait, freezing on the peaks, as the grey climbed, climbed …

And at last, Deltora, all its variety and strangeness lost forever, would be one great, cold, grey plain.

This was what the Shadow Lord’s malice and desire for vengeance had decreed must be, if the king who had been foretold did arise, restore the Belt of Deltora and rid the land of tyranny.

I never have just one plan …

The Shadow Lord knew that this new king would certainly attempt to destroy the magic crystal which was Deltora’s last link to the Shadowlands. He knew that, aided by the Belt, the king would be powerful enough to do it at last.

So the crystal was set to reveal the plot of the Four Sisters as it died. Then the king who had dared to defy the Shadow Lord would learn why his land was starving.

He would learn of the Four Sisters.

And, of course, he would set out to destroy them.

Lief gritted his teeth as one by one the pieces of the plan fell into place.

He had taken the bait offered to him without a second thought. The Enemy had set a trap for him, then dared him, forced him, to walk into it.

Looking back, Lief could hardly believe he had been so easily tricked.

Not once had he wondered why the map showing where the Sisters were had not been destroyed, but had been torn into four parts. Not once had he wondered why each fragment had been hidden with a Sister, to be easily found if that Sister and its guardian were destroyed.

Not once had he considered that the verse placed on the map might have a double meaning.

And not once had he wondered why the stone protecting the last Sister had not been a sober warning, but an insulting dare, almost guaranteed to make him take the last, fatal step.

But now, too late, he saw the reasons for all these things. And he saw that, from the beginning, the Shadow Lord had arranged things so that Deltora would be his, whatever happened.

Anger rose in him—a helpless, white-hot anger.

‘It has been the Enemy’s pleasure to make us choose unknowingly which way the land would die,’ he muttered. ‘If we failed in our quest, the land would die slowly. If we succeeded, death would come swiftly. Either way, the Shadow Lord would win.’

And as the last words left his lips, the first dead fish floated to the wrinkled surface of the dying river, and with weird, howling cries, the seven Ak-Baba came swooping in from the north.