Emily Rodda - Sister Of The South

‘Jasmine! Gla-Thon!’ he shouted desperately. ‘People are coming to defend the palace. You must go out and stop them from attacking the dragon!’

There was no reply. And suddenly Lief remembered Filli’s scream.

The hair rose on the back of his neck. Slowly he turned his head.

Gla-Thon was crumpled just inside the doorway. Her limbs were twitching horribly.

Plague …

But the word had scarcely shaped itself in Lief’s mind when Gla-Thon stiffened and jerked onto her back. Then he saw that it was not plague that ailed her.

There was something horribly wrong with her face. Her eyes were bulging. Her mouth was a gaping, bubbling black hole. Her nose was running with what looked like black blood. Thick, black blood was streaming onto the white marble floor.

Lief thrilled with horror. Frozen to the spot, he followed the stream of blood with his eyes. And then he saw, like a vision in a nightmare, someone twisting and thrashing in a pool of surging darkness.

It was Jasmine. A lighted candle still clutched in her hand, Jasmine was drowning in the black blood that seemed to have a life of its own, that seemed—

Lief moaned aloud as he saw the thick, black liquid for what it was. In the same split second he realised that this was how the guards at the entrance door had died. How Zon and Delta had died.

They had not disobeyed orders. They had not died of the plague, or accepted poisoned food or drink—from anyone. Taken by surprise, mouths and noses filled with clogging blackness, they had fallen and suffocated, unable to make a sound. And then the black slime had slipped away from them and gone on its way, leaving no trace.

‘Let them go, guardian!’ he screamed. ‘It is me you want! Let them go!’

‘Lief what is it?’ shouted Barda, his shoulders tensing, his eyes staring sightlessly around him. ‘What is happening? Lief—I cannot see …’

Black slime reared over Jasmine’s struggling body, surging towards Lief like a wave. But Jasmine’s face was still covered, and Gla-Thon’s mouth and nose were still plugged. Lief knew that part of the slime could overwhelm him while the rest remained with its present victims until all breath had gone, all life had ceased.

There was only one thing that would make it leave them, gather itself together in one place. There was only one threat it could not ignore.

He turned back to the pit. He let himself be drawn closer and closer to the edge.

He looked down to where the Sister of the South glowed in darkness. He felt attraction and repulsion, both at the same time.

‘I will destroy you!’ he whispered.

And, clutching the Belt of Deltora in both hands, he slid his legs over the edge, and jumped.

13 - The Sister of the South

Lief hit powdery earth, and rolled. The song of the Sister was like a knife cutting into his brain. He groaned in agony and curled himself into a ball, his eyes screwed shut. But still he gripped the Belt of Deltora, gripped it so tightly that his hands ached, and slowly, slowly the soothing power of the amethyst, the strength of the diamond, gave him the will to open his eyes.

He was lying beside a stone wall. The outside wall of the palace, he thought dimly, for through it he could hear the roars of the dragon, and the sound of digging. Painfully he turned his head.

There, not far away, lay the Sister of the South.

It was exactly the size and shape of the seven great talismans in the Belt of Deltora, but he could see it now for what it was—a false gem, a jeering copy.

Beneath its perfect, polished surface, beneath the veins of angry red that twisted and flashed in imitation of life, it was cold, dead grey to its core.

Lief stared at it in fascinated repulsion. Now, with the real gems of the Belt warm beneath his fingers, he could not imagine how he had ever desired it. Yet still he found it hard to tear his eyes away and look above it, to the square hole in the cavern roof.

Dim light shone through from the chapel above, but only a little, for the space was almost filled with bulging, oozing blackness.

Lief’s heart thudded. As he had planned, the guardian was coming after him, and coming in haste. He could only hope that the threat he posed to the Sister of the South had been enough to make it gather all its forces together, to leave Jasmine and Gla-Thon before it was too late.

He crawled to his knees and then, painfully, to his feet. Above his head ran the huge lengths of wood that supported the chapel floor. There was just enough height for him to stand upright.

He watched the hole in the roof intently, waiting for a black stream to begin pouring to the ground. Behind him, through the agonising ringing in his ears, he could hear the dragon’s roars, very near. And he could feel—he was sure he could feel—heat radiating from the stones at his back.

The dragon has uncovered the wall, he thought. It is breathing fire onto the stones. Soon the mortar between the stones will crumble, as it did in the chapel. The stones will loosen and the dragon will be able to rake them away. If only it can reach me before the guardian does! If only …

Make haste! he urged silently. You are nearly there.

The only answer was a gust of pain.

And now Lief realised that other sounds were mingling with the dragon’s roars. Through the cracks in the wall he could hear roaring voices and the clash of metal.

The guards! he thought in horror. The guards are attacking the dragon.

He wanted to turn, press himself against the wall and scream to the guards to stop. But he knew it would be useless. The men would not hear him. And he did not dare to take his eyes from the hole in the roof, from the crawling blackness that hung there.

He licked his lips nervously. The black slime was moving, rippling downward, he could see it. Why was it not falling?

Then he glanced beyond the hole, at the great beams of wood that made the roof of his prison. And with a thrill of terror, he understood.

The timbers were black with slime. The slime was surging towards him across the roof. It had almost reached him.

With a cry he threw himself to one side. At the same moment, with a harsh, grating sound, a block of stone was ripped from the wall.

Light poured through the gap. Smoky air came with it, and a tumult of sound—shouting, screaming, the furious roars of the dragon.

And then one voice rose above all the rest, bellowing angrily. Lief thrilled as he heard it.

‘Stop, you blundering oafs! Throw down your arms! Get back!’

Barda! Somehow Barda had found his way out of the chapel. He was there, on the other side of the wall.

The shouting died away abruptly. Metal clanged on metal as the guards obeyed their chief’s order and cast their weapons aside.

Another block of stone fell away, and another, and another. The golden scales of the dragon, its mighty, clawing talons, almost filled the gap. But still flashes of daylight pierced the dimness of the cavern, dancing on the false gem lying there.

The Sister’s glassy surface shone in the light, and its scarlet veins seemed to swell and brighten. Its high, ringing song rose to an ear-splitting wail. Evil belched from it like freezing wind.

Eyes streaming, Lief fell to his knees. He felt the dragon falter. And then, in terror, through the tears that blurred his sight, he saw blackness pouring from the roof of the cavern and forming itself into a bulbous mass, stingers sprouting from it like vines …

He knew he was screaming. But his voice was drowned by the wailing howl of the two-faced beast as it lunged towards him, stingers whistling through the air, glistening dog face snarling.

He could not move. He could not lift a hand to his sword. There was only one thing left in his power. He forced his fingers along the Belt till they found the topaz. He focused his mind on the great gem.