Emily Rodda - Sister Of The South

12 - Creeping Darkness

Shouts of terror and warning were echoing in the entrance hall. The sounds floated into the chapel, but Lief did not hear them. He was staring down into the pit, staring at the shining thing that lay there.

He could see it clearly now. It was a great gem, grey as the evening sky, but swirling with lines of scarlet light. It was singing to him, singing the song of his land, the song that was part of him, the song he had first heard in the cradle, without knowing it.

It was beautiful, alive, filled with terrible power.

He knew that if only he could touch it, hold it, have it for his own, he could do anything—anything in the world.

I did not understand, he thought, awe-struck. I did not dream …

He slid his hands over the marble floor tiles that edged the pit. With his fingers he felt the rough, sawn edges of the wood beneath.

In his mind he saw dark figures cutting through the chapel floor. He saw the shining gem lowered into place, and the stone placed over the gap in the floor, to seal it. He saw the marble platform being constructed, to conceal what lay beneath.

Long ago, so long ago … and ever since, the wonder had lain in the darkness, singing the song of its power, and waiting, waiting for him.

‘LIEF!’ The bellow penetrated his consciousness. He stirred irritably, turned to see who had interrupted him.

A frizzy-haired gnome stood at the door of the room, waving her arms at him. Lief frowned. Perhaps he knew her face. He could not remember. But did the fool not realise that he had no time for her ravings now? Could she not feel the power—?

‘Lief, you must come!’ the gnome gabbled. ‘The golden dragon—the dragon I injured—it is flying over the city! It is roaring, breathing fire. Lief—’

Her voice, harsh as the screeching of a raven, broke off. Her face paled. Her foolish eyes widened. She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms about her head.

Lief smiled. Now she feels it, he thought. He began to turn back to the pit.

‘Gla-Thon—get away from here!’ a shaking voice called behind him.

Jasmine’s voice.

Jasmine …

Lief paused, a shadow of doubt flitting across his mind. For a moment he had forgotten Jasmine existed. How could that be?

‘Paff is dying,’ the gnome whimpered. ‘The plague is eating her alive. Her eyes have rolled back in her head. Her limbs have become rigid as stone. I could not lift her. I had to leave her. Then—I saw—the dragon. The people in the city—screaming, running …’

Lief swayed. The power in the pit was calling him. He longed to turn to it once more, feast his eyes on its beauty, lose himself in its wonder, and at last slip silently into the soft, thick darkness to take it for his own.

Then there would be no more pain, no more fear. There would be nothing he could not do, nothing he could not have.

But he did not turn. Something deep within him was resisting, holding him back.

What was it? Numbly his mind groped for the answer, and caught hold of that frail, fluttering shadow of doubt.

Jasmine …

If he had forgotten Jasmine, what else had he forgotten? What else …?

There was a roar like a clap of thunder, and a shuddering thud. The outside wall of the chapel shook.

Gla-Thon cried out in terror.

A soft voice whispered in Lief’s mind, hissing through the song of the Sister of the South.

I am with you, king of Deltora. We are separated only by a little earth and stone, and that will soon be gone.

The dragon of the topaz, Lief thought, almost in surprise. It is there, in the palace garden, on the other side of the wall.

He looked down at the Belt around his waist. He saw the topaz, shining like a great, golden star. It was as if he was seeing it with new eyes, as he had seen for the first time, in the Forests of Silence.

At the beginning. At the very beginning. When he thought he knew exactly who he was. When Jasmine and Barda were still almost strangers. When he had no idea what fate held in store for him, for all of them.

He laid his fingers on the topaz, felt its golden warmth.

This was what he had forgotten … this. The dangerous, beautiful thing in the pit had almost snared him. It had almost drawn him in, with its dizzying promises of power, glory and freedom from the pain of loss.

And for the first time he saw fully the dark power which had enthralled his enemies, those others who had embraced the cause of the Shadow Lord. He almost understood them … Rolf the Capricon. Kirsten of Shadowgate. Laughing Jack. And the unknown enemy here, in Del.

I feel the evil presence, very near, king. It is time to put an end to it.

Lief turned his head towards the wall through which the voice had come. He felt he could almost see through the stone—could almost see the great, golden beast crouching there.

The dragon of Del. The dragon of faith.

Yes, he answered silently. It is time.

And his heart leaped as he heard the sound of massive talons raking the earth, as he heard the roar of flame searing stone walls exposed to the air for the first time in centuries.

The mortar between the stones at the base of the chapel wall began to crack. Then there was a scrabbling sound, and the stones themselves began to move.

And at that moment Lief heard a muffled shout beyond the wall. He held his breath, straining to hear.

‘It is attacking the palace!’ the voice roared. ‘It is clawing at the very foundations! Did I not tell you, Manus? This is what the dragons did to Capra! Ah—you foul, deceiving beast!’

‘Lindal, no!’ wailed Manus faintly. ‘Come away! Do not—’

There was a mighty roar of rage and pain, quickly followed by a high scream.

Lief was frozen to the spot, his mind flooded with the dragon’s agony, the dragon’s anger. He could not move. He could not speak. He could only imagine the blood flowing beneath the point of Lindal’s spear, the golden eyes flashing with fury, the huge, spiked tail lashing, crushing and maiming …

‘Lindal!’

The shout was Barda’s. Barda had staggered to his feet and stumbled to the far wall of the chapel. Now he was leaning against it, leaning against the shifting stones, one hand still pressed to his eyes.

‘Lindal!’ he bellowed. ‘Lindal, answer me!’

‘Barda, get back!’ Jasmine cried sharply.

There was the sound of grating stone. Barda jumped back just as a great gap suddenly appeared in the wall at his feet. Light poured through the gap, blocked instantly by blazing fire, and then by vast talons raking more stones away, and more.

Lief heard Filli squeal in terror. He did not turn. His eyes were fixed on the fiery wall.

The dragon’s voice hissed in his mind, cold with anger.

The giant woman speared me. I have dealt with her.

Lief’s breath caught in his throat. Instinctively he glanced at Barda, who had backed against the end of the marble platform and was now turning slowly, hands fumbling for the platform’s edge.

In anguish, Lief realised that Barda was blind. In anguish he remembered the searing flash of light that had burst from the warning stone as Barda struck it for the third time.

The dragon’s voice came again.

Hundreds of people and soldiers are running up the hill—enemies with clubs and swords. I will kill them all.

No! Lief thought back frantically. They are not enemies. Our enemy is within. Dig deeper. I am here, but the evil is below.

Through the charred gap in the wall he saw the flashing golden scales of the dragon, saw earth flying as the vast beast began to dig.

He tried to rise, but could not. It was as if his knees were fixed to the ground, as if the thing in the pit had thrown an invisible web around him, and was holding him fast.