The Shadowlands

8 – Claw

Scrabbling helplessly at the hard earth, Lief felt the scrape of stone on his legs. With a surge of panic he realised that he was being dragged feet-first into a hole that had opened beneath the rock.

Desperately he flung his arms forward. Gasping with shock, Jasmine, Emlis and Barda seized them, trying in vain to hold him back. He tried to kick, but the scaly talons that gripped his ankles merely tightened their hold and pulled more strongly. He felt as if he was being torn in two. He yelled in pain and terror.

‘Shut your mouth or you will kill us all!’ barked the harsh voice.

There were grunts and curses from below. Then, suddenly, Lief felt another pair of hands seize his legs and heave. His arms slipped from his companions’ grasp, and he slithered under the rock, falling with a thud onto hard ground.

Instantly he was lifted up and slammed against a wall, a vast hand around his throat. Dazed, halfstrangled, he saw that the rock had not been a loose boulder at all, but part of the roof of a large cave. A torch flickered on rocky walls and floor. Water trickled in the shadows. A small group of strangely ill-assorted beings were peering at him.

There was a bearded scarecrow of a man whose hands were scaly claws, like the talons of a bird of prey. Beside him stood a woman—young and tall but gaunt with sunken eyes, the brand of the Shadow Lord burned cruelly into her brow. And pinning Lief to the wall, scowling, filthy, with an iron band around his neck, was—Glock!

Lief gaped at the brutish face snarling so close to his own. This could not be! He was dreaming! Glock was dead—dead and buried in a hero’s grave on the island of Plume. Had an Ol taken the shape of Glock to deceive them? A Grade 3 Ol, that could mimic even the warm touch of a human being?

But if that was so, surely the Ol would pretend to recognise him, would greet him by name, in Glock’s voice. No flicker of recognition showed in this man’s eyes.

The enormous paw around Lief’s throat tightened as Jasmine thudded through the hole in the cave roof, with Barda and Emlis close behind. His companions’ weapons were in their hands. They sprang forward, then saw Lief pinned against the wall, and froze.

‘Move another step and I will snap his neck like a twig!’ growled the being who looked like Glock.

‘Put down your weapons,’ snapped the talon-handed man, stepping forward. ‘We are friends!’

‘You may call dragging our companion into this place the act of a friend, but we do not,’ growled Barda, raising his sword a little.

The man put his head on one side and regarded him curiously. ‘Brianne, close the trapdoor!’ he ordered over his shoulder.

Frowning furiously the tall woman went to do his bidding. ‘You were a fool to bring them here, Claw!’ she said sharply, as the light in the cave abruptly darkened. ‘Did I not tell you?’

‘Was I to leave them to the Wild Ones?’ the talon-handed man drawled. ‘You were glad enough to be saved when you were wandering the plain, Brianne. I tell you, I heard them talking! They are harmless.’

The being who looked like Glock spat disgustedly. ‘Harmless? You are mad! At best they are decoys, at worst, spies. Look at them! Do they look like escaped slaves? They show no sign of the Sadness.’

‘And they came from the east, Claw,’ Brianne exclaimed. ‘All the slaves are in the west. With our own eyes we saw them trekking across the plain, chained together and under heavy guard, with Ak-Baba flying overhead. With our own ears we heard the guards taunting them, telling them they were going to the Shadow Arena. How could these four have escaped?’

Jasmine drew a sharp breath. Lief could imagine what she was thinking, and it was all he could do to keep his own face expressionless. He had been right. All the slaves were being herded into the Arena. Some terrible plan was afoot. They had to get away from here, and quickly.

Lief met Barda’s eyes and blinked. Barda’s mouth tightened very slightly.

‘Well, strangers?’ Claw said crisply. ‘You have heard my friends’ opinions. Explain yourselves!’

‘We do not have to explain ourselves to you,’ Lief gasped. ‘We do not desire your help or your company. We merely wish to go on our way.’

‘Indeed!’ said Claw, bowing mockingly. ‘And why should we allow you to do that?’

In seconds he had his answer, for before he could blink Barda had sprung forward, and Barda’s sword was at his throat.

A strangled groan burst from Lief as the powerful hand that gripped his neck tightened viciously.

Barda merely smiled. ‘Will it be a life for a life, then?’ he asked Claw casually. ‘I can well do without the lad, who is far more trouble than he is worth. Can your friends do without you?’

Lief’s attacker growled angrily. Brianne, stone-faced, folded her arms to conceal her trembling.

‘Your point is well made,’ said Claw, apparently entirely unmoved. He raised his voice. ‘Let the boy go!’

Lief felt the choking grip slacken. Then his captor stepped away from him. Lief slid down to the cave floor, points of light dancing before his eyes, the breath rasping in his bruised throat. As Emlis and Jasmine ran to him, Barda pushed Claw over to join them.

The other cave-dwellers faced them, not daring to move.

‘I fear our relationship has started badly,’ said Claw calmly, as if he was in conversation at a polite social gathering. ‘This is a pity, for I think we will have to help one another, very soon. You do not act like escaped slaves, certainly. But I do not think you are Shadow Lord creatures either.’

‘What are they then?’ snapped Brianne. Then, suddenly, her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened.

Claw nodded, without taking his eyes from Barda. ‘They are proof of what I said the day the red clouds swept back over the mountains and the Wild Ones screamed and trembled at the Enemy’s fury. Deltora is free. Somehow the Belt of Deltora has been restored, and the heir to its power found. Our visitors have come across the mountains from Deltora.’

Barda’s face remained expressionless.

The corner of Claw’s mouth twitched with something like amusement. ‘You do not trust us,’ he said. ‘Perhaps things will improve if we introduce ourselves. I am known as Claw, for reasons that must be plain. My real name, however, is Mikal, of Del.’

He saw Lief’s eyes widen, saw Jasmine and Emlis glance swiftly at his talons. He smiled without humour.

‘You are surprised,’ he remarked. ‘Did you think I was some strange oddity from a land far away? Oh, no, my friends. I am a citizen of Del—or was, before Deltora forgot me. I lived and worked at the pottery. Perhaps you know it?’

He waited, and receiving no response, went on. ‘When I came here with my family, the Enemy made some—improvements—to my appearance. The Enemy enjoys such… experiments.’

He stretched out his talons and flexed them thoughtfully. ‘These are strong, and serve me well,’ he said. ‘I escaped the Factory before the Enemy had quite finished with me. I am one of the lucky ones. Others are not so fortunate. Your small companion in the hood has already met some of them on the Dead Plain, I think, when they used him as Scuttler bait. We call them the Wild Ones.’

He smiled grimly.

Lief heard Emlis whimper softly, felt Barda tense, and Jasmine’s hand seek his own. Sick with horror, he stared at Claw, forcing himself to face the terrible truth. The savage creatures who had stolen Emlis—those hideous half-beast, half-human beings who prowled the arid plain—were his own people. Maddened, hopeless victims of the Shadow Lord’s evil.

Satisfied by the effect of his words, Claw waved his hand at the tall woman. ‘Brianne is the newest member of our group.’ His mouth twisted in a mocking half smile. ‘Often do I regret the day I brought her in. She is as stubborn as a donkey, and has been a thorn in my side from the first.’

The tall woman glared and straightened her shoulders. ‘Brianne of Lees,’ she said abruptly.

A memory tweaked at Lief’s mind. Brianne of Lees. Where had he heard that name before?

But Claw was speaking again. ‘Brianne escaped from the Shadow Arena. Only the third Deltoran ever to have done so, it is said. What happened to the first, I do not know. But the second is here.’

He gestured towards the hulking figure scowling beside Brianne. ‘This is the last member of our party. The last, and greatest, according to his own account. Gers, of the Jalis.’

‘Gers!’ Jasmine burst out, staring.

The man Claw had called Gers stuck out his jaw and clenched his enormous fists. ‘You find the name amusing?’ he growled. ‘Fight me, then, weakling, and see if you are still smiling when the fight is done!’

‘There is nothing wrong with your name!’ Jasmine cried. ‘It is just that—that you look like—exactly like—a… a friend of ours.’

‘A Jalis called Glock,’ added Barda, never moving his sword from Claw’s throat.

Gers’s face grew very still. ‘I had a brother called Glock,’ he said slowly.

‘Do not listen to them, Gers!’ Brianne exclaimed. ‘They are the Enemy’s creatures! They are trying to deceive you!’

Gers’s eyes narrowed. ‘I will not be deceived. I had a brother. He was one year my elder. But he is long dead. I saw him struck down on the field of battle when the Jalis made their last stand against the Enemy. Just before—before we were taken.’ His huge hand moved to finger the iron collar around his neck.

‘Glock may have been struck down, but he did not die,’ Jasmine said, very moved. ‘He lived to play a great part in forcing the Shadow Lord from Deltora, and died a hero’s death in—’

Barda cleared his throat and Jasmine broke off, realising that she had nearly said too much.

‘—in—in our arms,’ she finished lamely. As Gers frowned suspiciously, she quickly slipped Glock’s talisman from around her neck and held it out to him.

‘Glock gave this to me, just before he died,’ she said. ‘Do you know what it is?’

Gers’s eyes widened. ‘Our family’s talisman!’ he mumbled, his lips barely moving as he stared at the small, faded bag. ‘The wooden charm of a goblin killed by one of our ancestors. A stone from the belly of a Diamond Serpent, and two more from a dragon’s nest. Herbs of great power. And the flower of a Gripper. Never did I think to see it again.’

Jasmine glanced at Lief and Barda. Her face showed that she, at least, was convinced. Again she held out her hand to Gers.

‘Take it,’ she urged softly. ‘It is yours by right, and Glock would want you to have it. He gave it to me because there was no-one else, and we had fought side by side. It is no longer complete, I fear, for the thing you call the charm of the goblin is gone. But perhaps you will be glad to have it, in any case.’

The big man stared, still making no move to take the little bag. ‘What did Glock say when he gave you this?’ he muttered.

‘He said —’ Jasmine’s voice trembled slightly, but she clenched her fists and continued. ‘He said, “You have the heart of a Jalis. Take my talisman from my neck. It is yours now. May it serve you well.”‘

Gers wet his lips. ‘Take my talisman from my neck. It is yours now. May it serve you well,’ he repeated. ‘Those are the words! The words that are always said when the talisman is passed on.’

He turned to Claw. ‘She speaks the truth!’ he said, his rough voice husky with emotion. ‘She bore arms with my brother. And if he said she has the heart of a Jalis, she does indeed.’

He faced Jasmine again, bowed low, and took the talisman from her hand. ‘One day, I hope, there will be a time when I, too, will bear arms with you,’ he said. Clearly it was the greatest compliment he could offer.

Jasmine smiled. ‘Then leave this place now, and journey with us to the west, Gers,’ she said in a low voice. ‘The time has come.’