Emily Rodda - The Third Door

He had almost reached the head of the serpent, now. The only sounds were his labouring breaths, the scraping of his boots on the pipe, and the moaning of the wind. The shouts and cries from below had ceased. When Rye glanced down all he could see was a mass of upturned, spellbound faces.

‘We must get away from here, Rye,’ he heard Sonia say urgently. ‘We must take Farr into the Fell Zone, where Jett cannot follow.’

It was the last thing Rye wanted. If Farr woke from his strange trance and found himself in the forbidden forest, he would be certain that his captors were enemies. So would Janna, Petronelle, the three councillors and every other soul in Fell End except Dirk and Sholto.

‘So, it ends at last, Chieftain Farr!’

Jett’s voice was suddenly much louder. Rye’s heart gave a great thud and his head jerked up. More quickly than he had thought possible, Jett had finished his climb. Jett had hauled himself onto the flat section of pipe and was crouching there, panting, right in front of them.

The man was glaring at Farr, his eyes glittering, and at that moment Rye saw that Sonia had been right. Jett had lost touch with reality. His mind was fixed on one, simple idea—the idea that had obsessed him for so long. Kill Farr.

‘Why do you stare like a dolt, Farr?’ Jett sneered. ‘Have these traitors bewitched you? Or is it that you are shocked, great Farr, at being way up here, trussed up like a duck ready for the pot? Why, the cord is not even tied! You could kick it away easily, if you had the courage to move!’

The cord! For the first time, Rye noticed that Sonia’s cord belt was still tangled around Farr’s ankles.

See if you can distract Jett while I get the cord! he called to Sonia in his mind. I will try to throw it around him — take him by surprise—and pull him close without the danger of a struggle. Then he can share the power of the feather and will be safe, whatever happens.

Rye, you are dreaming! The cord will never hold him. He is mad, and he is very strong. We must leave him and flee into the Fell Zone. Now!

Sonia’s voice had an edge to it that Rye could not quite understand. It seemed almost like fear, yet why should Sonia be fearful?

If we fly he will leap after us, Sonia. He will fall! He will die!

The answer came instantly.

Then that will be his choice. We must go. We are not safe here. I feel it!

And now Rye could feel it too—or perhaps Sonia was at last letting fear flow from her mind into his.

Yet still he hesitated, while Jett jeered and Farr stared. He turned his head to look at the darkening trees of the Fell Zone. And so it was that he saw, rising above the distant treetops, a vast cloud of ragged, flapping wings hideously silhouetted against the grey sky.

‘But—’ Stupidly Rye looked down at the pipeline. It was the same as ever. Nothing about it had changed. The clear tubing still hung slack beneath it, coiling beside the barrier fence.

Jett screamed. It was a shrill, cracked sound, as if something within him had broken.

‘No!’ he shrieked, staring wildly at the swelling stain in the sky. ‘The skimmers were to come through the pipeline tonight, from the coast into Weld. That was the plan—I worked it all out! That must have been the plan! Farr is the enemy of Weld! I have always known it was Farr! It must be Farr!’

‘Plainly it is not,’ Rye said through stiff lips. ‘The skimmers are coming out of the Fell Zone, Jett! The nest is there. For Farr, the Fellan are the enemy. He has been planning to attack the Fellan, not the people of Weld. Almost certainly, he has no idea there is a city inside the Fell Zone peak.’

He wondered to hear his voice sounding so calm, so level. His mind was a seething confusion of shock, horror and a sudden, sour understanding of how ruthlessly he had been deceived and betrayed.

If skimmers roosted in the Fell Zone shade, it was because the guardians of the forest had permitted it. And that could mean only one thing: Farr was not in league with the Master, but the Fellan were.

Words Rye had read in the book now lying soaked and ruined inside his shirt flashed into his mind.

It came to pass, however, as the years went by, that pioneer farmers began pushing inland, cutting trees to make open fields for crops and herds. If the Fellan resented what was happening no one knew it, for they withdrew into the depths of their shrinking forests …

Of course the Fellan had resented the carving away of their forest home, little by little! Of course they had come to hate the impudent newcomers who had put fields and houses where trees had been before. And the city built by the Sorcerer Dann in the very centre of what remained must have been—must still be—an irritation beyond bearing. To the Fellan, Weld must seem like an ugly sore in the heart of their shrunken domain. But the hollow mountaintop had become human territory as surely as the coast had, and they could not touch it.

Rye looked down at the red bundle hanging from his belt. As he thought of the shining disc, the sign of the treaty that had at last been made, more lines from the book swam before his eyes.

The chieftain swore that the forests of the centre would remain Fellan territory, forbidden to outsiders. The Fellan, in their turn, swore that they would not trouble the newcomers, or interfere in the wider affairs of Dorne. And so the agreement was forged, for good or ill …

How the Fellan must have regretted that treaty as time went on! But they were bound to it. So they had found a way around it.

You must make haste … it is almost Midsummer Eve.

‘It took the Fellan a thousand years to find a way to be rid of us,’ Rye said aloud. ‘But at last a plan was made. And they used me to carry it out. They wanted Olt to die so that the Lord of Shadows could invade and clear their territory for them.’

‘That cannot be true,’ Sonia said faintly. ‘The Master is evil. He is destroying the land. The Fellan would never allow—’

‘The Fellan care only for the centre—the book says so.’ Rye clenched his fists as the words came back to him. How could he have read them and not realised how important they were?

Fellan have no use for the coast. The sea is their enemy. The salt in the water weakens their magic, as metal does …

Rye’s head felt as if it might burst. He could feel the bag of powers warm and pulsing against his skin like a live thing with a heart.

Nine powers to aid you in your quest …

Powers to help the dupe of the Fellan do what the Fellan themselves could not—end Olt’s life and open the way to the Lord of Shadows.

Shuddering with revulsion, Rye tore the bag from his neck so violently that the knotted drawstring snapped and pulled completely out of its casing. Its neck ragged and gaping, the bag lay in his hand like flabby skin shed by some loathsome, creeping animal. More than anything in the world he wanted to cast it away from him, see the charms scatter in the wind and be lost.

No, Rye!

Sonia’s cry shrilled in Rye’s mind, cutting through his rage and pain, recalling him to himself. However he felt about the powers it would be madness to discard them now. Hastily he wound the broken string around the neck of the bag and thrust the whole untidy mess at Sonia.

‘You take it then,’ he muttered. ‘I cannot bear it near me any longer.’

Sonia took the bag in silence and slid it into her pocket. Her eyes were fixed on the rising skimmers.