The Shifting Sands

Mother Brightly was in high spirits all the time they were eating, but afterwards, when she had brought their weapons to them and they were preparing to leave, it became clear that something was on her mind.

In the end, she bit her lip and bent towards them. “It is hard for me to say this,” she said in a low voice. “I do not like to spread bad tidings about the Games, or Rithmere. But — you must be told. It has been known for Champions, and even ordinary finalists, to meet with … ill fortune, on their way out of the town.”

“You mean they are attacked and robbed?” asked Barda bluntly.

Mother Brightly nodded uncomfortably. “The gold coins are a great temptation,” she murmured. “Would you be offended if I suggested that you leave the inn by a secret way? There is a back door — reached by a passage that runs from the cellar. The cider barrels are brought in that way, but few people know of it, and the back street is narrow, and always deserted. You could slip out unseen, easy as winking.”

“Thank you, Mother Brightly,” said Lief, clasping her hand warmly. “You are a good friend.”

The passage from the cellar was long, low, and dark and smelled sickeningly of cider. Their boots clattered on the stones as they shuffled along in single file, Barda bent almost double. They had divided their remaining gold between them, to make it easier to carry, but still it weighed heavily on their belts. Already sore from their battles of the day, they were soon very stiff and uncomfortable.

“We should, perhaps, have stayed the night at the inn and set out in the morning,” groaned Lief. “But I could not face the thought of one more hour in Rithmere.”

“Nor I,” muttered Jasmine, breaking her long silence. Kree, hunched on her arm, squawked agreement.

“At least we have what we came for,” said Barda, who was in the lead. “We now have enough gold to fund the rest of our journey — and more besides.” He paused, then added awkwardly: “You did well, Jasmine.”

“Indeed,” Lief agreed eagerly.

“I did not do well,” Jasmine said in a low voice. “I am ashamed. The man Doom jeered about my mother. He made me angry. He meant to do it. He wanted me to forget myself — so I would perform for the crowd.”

“He tricked himself, then,” said Barda. “For in the end he lost and you won. Think of that, and forget the rest.” He paused, and pointed. “I see light ahead. I think we are at last reaching the end of this accursed tunnel.”

They hurried forward, eager to see the sun and to stand upright.

As Mother Brightly had told them, the passage ended in a low door. Light showed dimly through the crack beneath it. But as Barda drew the bolt, and the door swung open, a flood of sunlight poured into the passage.

With streaming eyes, almost blinded by the welcome glare, they crawled through the doorway one by one. And so it was that, one by one, they were cracked over the head and captured. Easy as winking.

When Lief came to his senses he was covered by some rough, foul-smelling cloth — old sacks, perhaps. His head was pounding. He was gagged, and his wrists and ankles were weighed down by heavy chains.

He became aware that he was being painfully jolted and bumped. He could hear voices, a jingling sound, and the plod of hooves. He realized that he was on the back of a cart. Whoever had attacked him was carrying him away from Rithmere. But why?

The Belt!

With a thrill of terror he dragged his chained hands to his waist and groaned with relief as his fingers met the familiar shape of the linked medallions under his clothes. His money bag was gone. His sword, too. But the Belt of Deltora was safe. His captors had not found it. Yet.

His groan was answered by the dull clank of chains and a sigh beside him and a muffled cry from a little farther away. So Barda and Jasmine were in the cart with him. He was absurdly comforted, though of course it would have been better if one of them at least was free. Then there might be some hope of rescue. As it was …

There was a guffawing laugh from the front of the cart. “The ticks are waking, Carn 8,” a harsh voice said. “Will I give them another knock?”

“Better not,” said a second voice. “They have to be in good condition on delivery.”

“I don’t see that this lot’s worth the trouble,” the first man growled. “The big one might be all right, but the other two are rubbish! Especially the scrawny little female. Champion my eye! She won’t last five minutes in the Shadow Arena.”

Lief lay rigid, straining his ears to hear more against the sound of rain, fighting down a feeling of dread.

“It’s not our business to say what’s worth the trouble, Carn 2,” answered the other voice. “It’s the old girl who answers to the Master, not us. The pod was told that from the beginning. The Brightly woman supplies the goods. All we have to do is deliver them undamaged.”

Lief felt the blood rush to his head. Beside him, Barda made a strangled sound.

“The ticks heard us,” sniggered the man the other had called Carn 2.

“What does it matter? They’re not going to be telling anyone, are they?” sneered his companion. “Or d’you think that black bird’s going to spread the word? It’s still there, you know. Right behind us.”

They laughed, and the cart jolted on.

The journey continued hour after hour. Lief slept and woke and slept again. It grew colder and darker, and then it started to rain again. The sacks that covered him became sodden. He began to shiver.

“We’d better stop and get the ticks covered up,” Carn 8 growled at last. “Give them some grub and a drink, as well, or they’ll be dying on us. Then we’ll be in the muck.”

The cart jolted off the road, and finally came to a stop. The next Lief knew he was being hauled out of the cart and dumped roughly onto the ground. Agonizing pain shot through his head and he moaned aloud. Only the cold rain beating on his face kept him conscious.

“Be careful, you fool!” roared Carn 8. “How many times do you have to be told? Any broken bones Brightly didn’t put in her report and we’re in the Arena ourselves! Do you want to end your days in gladiators’ leather, fighting a Vraal? Get him under the canopy, and be quick about it!”

The other grumbled. His face and shoulders loomed out of the darkness as he bent and grabbed Lief under the arms. And it was then that Lief’s worst suspicions were confirmed. Their captors were Grey Guards.

The Guards had made a rough shelter for their prisoners by stretching oiled cloth between the lowest branches of a tree. Barda, Jasmine, and Lief huddled together under this canopy, shuddering with cold.

Kree, who had followed them all the way from Rithmere, perched on Jasmine’s shoulder. But he could not help them. There was no chance of escape. Their leg irons were fixed to an iron peg driven into the ground.

The gags were taken off and they were given water and some chunks of bread. Then the Guards moved away. Dimly, through the darkness and the rain, Lief saw them crawl together under the cart where it seemed they were planning to sleep.

“I cannot eat weighed down by these chains,” Jasmine shouted.

“Hold your tongue or I’ll cut it out and throw you into the Shifting Sands, orders or no!” bawled Carn 2. “We passed by the Sands just an hour ago.”

“Lief, is the Belt safe?” whispered Barda.

“Yes,” Lief whispered back. “Did you hear —?”

“Yes. We are not far from the Shifting Sands. But this news is of little use to us as we are. Mother Brightly fooled us well.”

“I thought she was the fool,” Jasmine hissed bitterly, breaking off a tiny piece of bread for Filli. “But the secret way out of the inn was a trap.”

“The whole of the Games is a trap! With gold coins as bait.” Lief clenched his fists. “What better way to lure the best and strongest fighters, and make them show how good they are? And dear old Mother Brightly is there all the time, to make sure that as many finalists as possible walk tamely into captivity when it is all over.”

Barda shook his head in disgust. “We heard on the highway that few Games Champions are ever heard of again. Now we know why. They do not run away to spend their money in peace. They are taken to the Shadowlands to die battling wild beasts and each other for the amusement of the crowds.”

“And their gold coins, and even the Champion medallion, are taken to be used again!” Jasmine hissed. “It is monstrous.”

The rain eased, and they heard snores coming from beneath the cart. The Guards were asleep. With new urgency they began struggling to free themselves, though in their hearts they all knew that it was no use.

They had long given up their efforts and were dozing fitfully when Kree gave a startled squawk and there was the tiny sound of cracking twigs behind them.

“Be still!” breathed a voice. “Do not speak or move until I tell you. I already have your packs and weapons in a safe place. Now I am going to unlock your chains. When you are free, follow me as quietly as you can!”