The Valley of the Lost

Neridah lay face up in the stream, the slow water drifting over her unseeing eyes, her hair billowing over the rock on which she had hit her head. In the open palm of her cold, cold hand lay a great diamond.

“It seems that the Guardian did not kill her,” Jasmine murmured, wondering. “It was just ill fortune that she tripped while she was crossing the stream. Ill fortune that she hit her head and drowned.”

Realizing what she had said, she glanced at Lief and bit her lip. “I am sorry,” she muttered. “If I had had my way, no doubt we would be lying here, or somewhere like it, ourselves. The curse — is strong.”

“Strong enough for the Guardian to know that he did not have to fear theft,” Barda said grimly. “The diamond could be relied upon to act before the thief escaped the valley.”

“Take care!” cried Jasmine, as Lief reached into the water.

But Lief shook his head. “We have nothing to fear,” he said. The Belt grew hot at his waist as he lifted the great gem, dripping, from the water.

Mist swirled about him, filled with shadows, filled with whispers, as he took off the Belt and laid it on the ground. The six gems glowed on their steel medallions. The last medallion waited to be filled.

Lief pressed the great diamond down. With a tiny click, it slid into place. Into the place where it belonged. The Belt was complete.

There was a moment’s breathless silence. Then the whispering began again. Louder now. Louder. The mist billowed, clumping into columns and spirals, rising from the ground and writhing upward through the trees, as though it was alive. And as it rose, figures were left blinking in the clear air. Men, women, and children looked in bewildered joy at their warming hands, at their slowly coloring robes, and at each other.

Then there was a great crack, a shattering, like the sound of breaking glass. In an instant, the valley was flooded with color and blinding light.

And when Lief, Barda, and Jasmine looked again there were people by the hundreds, by the thousands, rejoicing among the trees, under the blue sky. They were no longer grey, drifting, hollow-faced, but rich with color, warmth, and life.

Most were tall and slender, with long, smooth faces, their dark eyes shining beneath slanting eyebrows. Black, silky hair hung down their backs, the deep sleeves of their robes swept the ground. Staring at them in wonder, hardly able to accept the evidence of his own eyes, Lief remembered the Guardian’s words.

The first of my subjects, the largest number, came to me in a great wind, the pride that had caused their fall still fresh within them …

And then he knew. These were the lost people of Tora.

The companions walked through the crowd, and everywhere hands were held out to them. But now the hands were open, filled with life and thanks.

The people of Tora had wandered in the Valley of the Lost for as long as Lief had been alive, yet they had not grown old, or changed. Old, middle-aged, and young, they remained just as they had been that day when they broke their vow. Lief, Barda, and Jasmine moved among them, hearing over and over the story of their fall.

The magic of the tunnel had protected Tora from evil for so long that the Torans had come to think they had grown perfect, as their city was perfect, and that any decision they made would be the right one. When the message from Endon came, they considered it as they considered everything: without passion, without hate, without anger. But also without warmth, without love, without pity.

“The decision did not seem a betrayal of trust,” murmured a young man who held the hand of a small child. “It seemed sensible, and just. For to us, the king was a stranger. Even the Torans who went to Del with Adin, and those who went afterwards, had long ago become part of the Del palace life. They had ceased to be a bridge between our cities.”

“But in our pride we forgot the magic on which our power was based,” sighed an old woman, tall and straight in her scarlet robe. “The ancient vow, with the curse it embraced, was still as strong as it ever was. We did not count on that, for we looked forward, but never backward in those days. We have learned better since.”

The companions walked back through the trees to the palace clearing, the crowd following silently. As they approached the clearing Lief was haunted by the feeling that he was dreaming. At any moment he might wake. At any moment he might see the palace, gleaming like a jewel, and the Guardian, red eyes staring, beckoning through swirling mist.

But the palace had gone, as if it had never been. In its place was a small wooden hut. Flowers and wild grass grew around it, and standing at its door was a bearded man wearing a coarse gown, tied at the waist with a knotted cord. His sad eyes met Lief’s. They were very familiar.

Perched on his arm was a black bird. Sitting on his hand was a small, grey bundle of fur.

Before Lief could say a word, Jasmine was running forward with a cry of joy. Then Kree was flying towards her, and Filli was leaping, chattering, to meet her. They had come down from the cliff edge the moment the mist had lifted. They had waited with their new friend patiently. But now that they saw Jasmine, they would not wait a moment longer.

Together once again, the companions moved to the stranger’s side.

“You are the hermit — the hermit in the pictures on the rug,” Lief said.

The man nodded.

“And you are the Guardian.”

The man put his hand to his chest, close to his heart, as if feeling a tender place. “No longer. Thanks to you,” he said quietly.

“But — you are not Endon, are you?” Lief already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it aloud.

The man smiled. “No, I am not. My name is Fardeep. Once I was a rich man, it is true. A respected man, and very well content. But I was no king. Just the keeper of an inn in a place called Rithmere, far from here. Bandits invaded the town. My family was killed, and my inn was taken from me. The Shadow Lord, it seems, had a use for it.”

The companions exchanged glances. “Could you be speaking of the Champion Inn?” Barda asked.

“You know it?” said Fardeep. “Yes. The Champion Inn was once mine. I have always liked games.”

His mouth twisted ruefully as the companions shuddered. “Now the games played at Rithmere are of a different sort, I hear,” he said. “And the inn is much larger, and run upon very different lines from those in my time, and for a different reason.”

He sighed deeply. “But in those days the Shadow Lord’s plans were not known to me. It all happened long before he took possession of Deltora. Before Endon ever became king. I knew nothing, and cared nothing, for what was ahead. I escaped Rithmere and fled to this valley seeking refuge, and peace.”

He bowed his head. “But peace was denied to me. My misery and anger was felt, and used, by the one who knows how to use them best. At first I did not know he was the one who had caused my trouble. Later, as gifts were showered upon me, it did not seem to matter. I told you how it was. Pride, envy, hatred, and greed grew in me. And as time went on I became — what you saw.”

Again his hand crept to his heart.

“But why did your game — the Guardian’s game — make us think your name was Endon?” Jasmine asked. “Why did that name open the door?”

“The Shadow Lord wished it,” said Fardeep simply. “From the first, he wanted anyone who came here for the diamond to be deceived. To think that King Endon had turned to the dark side, and become his servant. As the Guardian, I found the idea — amusing. And as I told you, I have always liked games. That part of me had not changed.”

He looked up, grim-faced. “Until you came, only the scar-faced man — Doom — had ever solved the puzzle. And the effect on him was everything my master could have hoped.”

He glanced across to where the Torans had gathered, murmuring to one another. He straightened his shoulders and went to speak with them.

“We have learned one important thing from this,” said Jasmine, as soon as they were alone. “It means that the Shadow Lord does not know that it is Endon’s heir, not Endon himself, who is important.”

“Or if he does, he does not know that we are aware of it, too,” Lief answered thoughtfully.

Fardeep and the people were coming towards them. “We hope that you will stay with us, for rest while you can,” Fardeep said rather stiffly, stepping forward. “We can offer you little luxury. But there is wild food enough for all now, in the valley. And friendship in abundance.”

“That is luxury enough,” smiled Barda. “And we will be glad to stay — for a time. We must bury our companion, Neridah. And we have much to talk about.”

Fardeep’s whole body relaxed in a shuddering sigh of relief. “I would not have blamed you if you had loathed the very thought,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd. “They, too, have forgiven me,” he said in a low voice. “It is more than I expected. And far more than I deserve.”

“We forgive you heartily,” called a stout, blue-clad woman at the front of the crowd. “Your fault was only blindness, as was ours. And we will stay here, for as long as you allow it, and be grateful. For we have nowhere else to go.”

“Tora is perfect, as it always was,” called Barda. “It is waiting for you!”

But the people shook their heads regretfully. “We can never go back,” the blue-clad woman murmured. “The stone that is the city’s heart is cracked, and its fire is no more. The vow was broken, and that evil can never be undone.”

It can, Lief thought. It can be undone.

He thought he knew how. But it was not time yet. The heir to Deltora still had to be found.

But where? Where in all the wide kingdom was the hiding place that had kept Endon, Sharn, and their child safe for so long? How could he and his companions find it, with no idea of where to look, or where to start?

For a moment he felt a sinking in his heart. Then, again he touched the Belt, heavy around his waist.

We will find the hiding place, he told himself. Wherever it is, no matter how far. For we are not without guidance any longer. The Belt is complete. And it will show us the way.