The Lake of Tears

Howling like beasts, the Guards thundered down the path after Lief and Barda. All of them carried slings and a supply of the poisonous bubbles they called “blisters.” All were fitting blisters to their slings as they ran. They knew that as soon as they had clear aim and could hurl the blisters, the running figures ahead of them would fall, helpless and screaming in pain.

Lief and Barda knew it, too. And so, perhaps, did the Ralad man, for he moaned in despair as he bumped on Barda’s shoulder. But the path was winding, so there was no clear aim, and fear gave Lief and Barda’s feet wings. They were staying well ahead.

But Lief knew this could not last. Already, he was panting. Weakened from his ordeal in the chasm, he did not have the strength he needed to outrun the enemy. Grey Guards could run for days and nights without rest, and could smell out their prey wherever it was hiding.

Far behind he heard thumping, clattering sounds and the angry shouts of falling men. With a thrill of gratitude, he guessed that Jasmine had been following through the trees, dropping dead branches across the path to trip and delay their pursuers.

Be careful, Jasmine, he thought. Do not let them see you.

Jasmine could have remained hidden and safe with Filli. The Guards would never have known that there had been three strangers in the clearing, not just two. But it was not her way to see friends in trouble and do nothing.

With a start, Lief saw her leap lightly to the ground just ahead. He had not realized how close to them she was.

“I have set them an obstacle course,” she said gleefully, as they reached her. “Thorny vine twined round dead branches in six places along the path. That will slow them down!” Her eyes were sparkling with pleasure.

“Keep moving!” grunted Barda. “Their anger will only make them run faster!”

They rounded a bend and to his horror Lief saw that ahead was a long stretch of path with no curves at all. It seemed to go on and on, straight as an arrow, vanishing into the distance.

The Guards could not ask for clearer aim than this. As soon as they reached this spot, the blisters would start flying, for they would see their enemies clearly, however far ahead they were. Lief’s heart pounded in his aching chest as he fought down despair.

“Off to the side!” hissed Barda, abruptly swerving from the path. “It is our only chance!”

The trees here were slender, with delicate trailing branches — useless for climbing. A carpet of springy grass spread between them, and wild sweetplum bushes were dotted here and there, plump, purple fruits glistening among fresh green leaves.

Lief had never seen sweetplums growing wild before. He had a sudden vision of how pleasant it would have been to wander here peacefully, picking the rich-smelling fruit and eating it straight from the bush. That, no doubt, was what he, Barda, and Jasmine would have done — if they had not met the troop of Guards and their prisoner on the way.

But they had met the Guards, and the prisoner. So instead of enjoying the afternoon, they were running for their lives.

Lief glanced at the bundle bobbing on Barda’s shoulder. The Ralad man was no longer groaning, and there was no movement within the folds of the cloak. Perhaps he had fainted. Perhaps he was dead of starvation and terror, and all this had been for nothing.

Abruptly, the ground began to slope away, and Lief saw that their steps were taking them into a little valley that had not been visible from the path. Here the sweetplum bushes were larger, and growing more thickly. The air was filled with their rich perfume.

Jasmine sniffed as she ran. “This is a perfect place to hide!” she muttered excitedly. “The smell of these fruits will mask our scent.”

Lief glanced behind him. Already the grass bent by their running feet had sprung back into place. There was no sign of the way they had taken. For the first time since they left the path he felt a flicker of hope.

He followed Barda and Jasmine to the bottom of the valley. They pushed into the midst of the bushes, which rose above their heads, hiding them completely. In silence, they crept through the dim, green shade. The ground was damp underfoot, and somewhere there was the gurgling of running water. Sweetplums hung everywhere like tiny, glowing lanterns.

They had been under cover for only a few minutes when Jasmine stopped and raised her hand warningly. “I hear them,” she breathed. “They are nearing the place where we left the path.”

Crouching very still, listening carefully, Lief finally heard what her sharper ears had heard before him — the sound of running feet. The sound became louder, louder — and then the feet faltered. The first of the Guards had come to the straight section of the path. Lief imagined the leaders peering ahead and seeing no one.

There was a moment’s silence. He held his breath at the thought of them sniffing the air, muttering to each other. There was a loud, harsh sound that could have been a laugh or a curse. And then, to his overwhelming relief and joy, he heard an order barked, and the sound of the whole troop turning. In seconds the Guards were marching back the way they had come.

“They have given up,” he breathed. “They think we have outrun them.”

“It may be a trap,” Barda muttered grimly.

The sound of marching feet gradually faded away and though the three companions waited, motionless, for several long minutes, nothing disturbed the silence. Finally, at a whisper from Jasmine, Filli skittered away to the nearest tree and ran up the trunk. In moments he was back, chattering softly.

“All is well,” Jasmine said, standing up and stretching. “Filli cannot see them. They have truly gone.”

Lief stood up beside her, easing his cramped muscles with relief. He pulled a sweetplum from the bush beside him and bit into it, sighing with pleasure as the sweet, delicious juice cooled his parched throat.

“There are better fruits further along,” said Jasmine, pointing ahead.

“First I must see how my poor piece of baggage is faring,” said Barda. He unwrapped the cloak and was soon cradling the Ralad man in his arms.

“Is he dead?” asked Lief quietly.

Barda shook his head. “He is unconscious — and no wonder. The Ralad are a strong people, but no one can resist starvation, exhaustion, and fear forever. Who knows how long our friend has been a prisoner of the Guards, or how far he has walked in heavy chains without being given any food or rest?”

Lief looked at the small man curiously. “I have never seen anyone like him before,” he said. “What was that sign he drew upon the ground?”

“I do not know. When he awakes, we will ask him.” Barda groaned as he lifted the Ralad man up again. “He has caused us some trouble, but still the meeting was fortunate,” he added. “He can guide us from here. The village of Raladin, where he comes from, is very near the Lake of Tears. Let us find a place where we can sit in more comfort and remove these chains.”

They pushed on through the bushes. The further they moved into the little valley, the more enchanting it seemed. Soft moss covered the ground like a thick green carpet and nodding flowers clustered everywhere. Brightly colored butterflies fluttered around the sweetplum bushes, and the sun, filtering through the delicate leaves of the slender trees, shed a gentle, green-gold light over everything it touched.

Never had Lief seen such beauty. He could tell from Barda’s face that he felt the same. Even Jasmine was soon looking around with warm pleasure.

They reached a small clearing and gratefully sank down onto the moss. There Barda used Jasmine’s dagger to cut the tight leather collar from the Ralad man’s neck and break the locks on his chains. As he pulled the chains away he frowned at the rubbed, raw patches on the man’s wrists and ankles.

“They are not so bad.” Jasmine inspected the wounds casually. She pulled a small jar from her pocket and unscrewed the lid. “This is of my own making, from my mother’s recipe,” she said, lightly spreading a pale green cream onto the raw places. “It heals skin quickly. It was often useful … in the Forests of Silence.”

Lief glanced at her. She was looking down, frowning fiercely as she screwed the lid back on the jar.

She is homesick, Lief thought suddenly. She misses Kree, and the Forests, and the life she had there. Just as I miss my home, and my friends, and my mother and father.

Not for the first time he felt a stab in his heart as he thought of all he had left behind in Del. He thought of his room — tiny, but safe and full of his own treasures. He thought of evenings in front of the fire. Running wild in the streets with his friends. Even working with his father at the forge.

Suddenly he longed for a hot, home-cooked meal. He longed for a warm bed and a comforting voice bidding him good night.

He jumped up, furious with himself. How could he be so weak, so childish? “I am going to explore,” he said loudly. “I will collect some sweetplums for us to eat, and wood for a fire.”

He did not wait for an answer from Barda and Jasmine, but strode to the edge of the clearing and through a gap between two trees.

The sweetplum bushes here were even more heavily laden than the ones he had already seen. He walked between them, using his cloak as a pouch to hold the fragrant fruits he picked. There were few dead sticks, but those there were he collected. Even a small fire would be welcome when night came.

His eyes fixed to the ground, he walked on. At last he stumbled on a good piece of flat wood, far bigger than anything else he had seen. It was damp, and moss had grown over it, but he knew it would soon dry and burn once the fire was well alight.

Pleased, he picked it up and, straightening his back, looked around to see where he was. And it was then that he saw something very surprising, right in front of his nose. It was a sign — old, broken, and battered, but plainly made by human hands:

Beside the sign, hanging from a tree branch, was a metal bell.

How strange, Lief thought. He peered through the bushes beyond the sign and jumped with surprise. Directly ahead was a strip of smooth, bright green lawn. And beyond the lawn, in the distance, was what looked like a small white house. Smoke was drifting from the chimney.

“Barda!” he cried, his voice cracking. “Jasmine!”

He heard them exclaiming and running towards him, but he could not tear his eyes away from the little house. As they reached him, he pointed and they gasped in amazement.

“I never thought to find people living here!” exclaimed Barda. “What a piece of good fortune!”

“A bath!” cried Lief happily. “Hot food! And perhaps a bed for the night!”

“‘Ring and Enter,’” said Jasmine, reading the sign. “Very well, then. Let us obey!”

Lief stretched out his hand and rang the bell. It made a cheery, welcoming sound, and together the friends ran through the bushes and onto the green lawn.

They had taken only a few steps before they realized that something was terribly wrong. Desperately they tried to turn back. But it was too late. Already they were sinking — to their knees … their thighs … their waists …

Beneath the green-covered surface of what they had thought was a fine flat lawn — was quicksand.