Emily Rodda - Isle of the Dead

But Lief did not move. ‘I would rather trust Verity than Laughing Jack,’ he said quietly.

His eyes were still fixed on the painting. The Light was brighter than it had been before. The little bay and the viewing platform of the lighthouse still glowed in their places. The painting was now more correct than it had been. But there was more to be done.

A fish was flying among the birds in the air. Lief touched it. It disappeared, reappearing, glowing, under the water where it belonged. He saw that one of the birds was missing a wing, and that there was a second sun in the sky. He touched both errors, and instantly both were corrected.

Eagerly he turned and scanned the great room. But no new door or gap had magically appeared among the mirrors.

What was more, the room had grown even dimmer. The stink of decay was stronger. And the muffled howls of pain and rage from below, the angry clanking and stamping, were louder.

‘Lief!’ Barda urged, tugging at his arm.

Lief gritted his teeth. ‘I must finish this,’ he said. ‘I must!’

Barda groaned in a fever of impatience. ‘The rocks at the foot of the lighthouse are smooth, instead of jagged, as they should be,’ he said rapidly.

Lief touched the rocks. The change was made. Six corrected errors now glowed on the painting. The Light was shining so brightly that it dazzled his eyes.

But when he looked around, nothing had changed.

‘There must be another error to find,’ he muttered.

Desperately he searched the painting. But he could see nothing more that was wrong. Nothing…

Then his eye fell on the bird flying alone, high in the sky, at the far right of the image.

The bird was too large—far too large to be real. He stretched out his hand, and touched it.

And at once the painting was replaced by another moving scene—the noisy, crowded deck of The Lady Luck, lit by weird red light. The whole crew seemed to be assembled there. Scrawn, the rat-faced man in the striped cap, was among them. So was Beef, with the black eye patch, and the man with the crooked teeth.

Verity was still tied to the prow, and the exhaustion on her face made it plain that more days had passed. Across the flat sea, the Bone Point Light was still burning. But the men were not looking at Verity or the Light. Instead, they were all looking up, pointing at the vast bird hovering high above the sea to the south.

The giant bird was not an error, then, Lief thought dazedly. It was not a painted lie, but truth. Like the flat, calm sea, and the birds with the water berries. But what—?

His stomach knotted as he realised what the hovering bird was.

‘Ak-Baba!’ cried Scrawn. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a snarl of terror. ‘And here we lie, like chickens waiting to be swooped on by a hawk!’

‘What is it doing?’ another man wailed. ‘Why does it circle over the western sea? What business did it have at the Maze of the Beast?’

Lief’s heart thudded. He heard Barda grunt with shock.

‘For that matter, why is the sky scarlet, so long after dawn?’ grunted Beef. ‘And those clouds to the east—I will knock down the first man who tells me they are natural.’

‘Omens!’ wailed the man with crooked teeth. ‘Omens of doom!’

He tore his eyes from the hovering Ak-Baba and fixed them on Verity. She was staring straight ahead, staring at the Light.

‘We are cursed!’ the man shrieked. ‘Thirteen days we have lingered here, and still the girl lives. The whole of nature is taking revenge on us for her sake! Our only hope is to free her. Cut her down!’

He took out a knife and started for the prow.

‘Stop!’ The voice was like the crack of a whip. The man with the crooked teeth froze, and the others shrank back as Laughing Jack strode onto the deck.

‘I have had news,’ he barked. ‘Unexpected, but welcome. It seems that we are no longer needed here.’

He moved closer to Verity. ‘Your sacrifice has been in vain, witch!’ he spat. ‘Here is something that you and your idiot father did not count upon. The magic that fed the Bone Point Light has died.’

‘You lie,’ the girl whispered.

Laughing Jack’s skull-like face split in a humourless grin.

‘At dawn this day the Belt of Deltora was broken,’ he sneered. ‘The seven gems were scattered. The Ak-Baba you now see in the sky carried but one of them. Like the others, that gem will never be found.’

Lief felt a shiver run down his spine. He realised that he and Barda were witnessing events that had happened the very day of the Shadow Lord’s invasion—a time before he was born, when so many lives were changed forever.

His eyes were drawn to the lowering clouds on the eastern horizon. Often he had been told of the darkness that swept over Del with the coming of the Shadow Lord. Now he was seeing it for himself.

He glanced down at the seven jewels shining in their medallions of steel as if to remind himself that Laughing Jack was wrong—the gems had been found.

Once lost in the Maze of the Beast, the ghastly domain of the Glus, the amethyst, symbol of truth, now shone on the Belt, bright as a great purple star, fiery as the Bone Point Light.

Verity’s voice, husky with pain and disuse, broke through his thoughts. Quickly he looked again at the moving image in the golden frame.

‘Del may fall, James Gant,’ the girl said. ‘The whole kingdom may fall to the Enemy who is your master. But the magic of Tora is ancient. It does not depend on the Belt. By the will of the Torans, the Light will continue to shine.’

Laughing Jack’s grin broadened. ‘Indeed?’ he said with relish. ‘Well, here is something you do not know. At dawn the king and queen fled from Del. They asked help from Tora, but Tora broke its vow of loyalty and refused refuge. As a result the Torans have been swept away, exiled by their own ancestors’ magic.’

Verity’s exhausted face seemed to grow a little paler.

Gleefully Laughing Jack rubbed his hands. ‘You did not expect that, did you, witch?’ he crowed. ‘And you know what it means, I see. The Light burns now only by the will and efforts of your stubborn father. But unprotected he will be easy prey.’

‘You touch the Light at your peril, James Gant,’ Verity breathed.

The man scowled. ‘The Light is not longer my concern,’ he spat. ‘It will die of its own accord once your father is gone, and others will see to him. We are to return to the River Tor.’

He turned to the gaping crew. ‘Man the oars!’ he snapped. ‘We must be away with all speed. I have been warned—’

A high sound split the air. Laughing Jack spun round, his eyes wide with shock. Verity was laughing!

‘You cannot deceive me!’ she cried. ‘Your master is displeased with you. You failed him! If the Light dies at last, it will not be because of you, but because the Torans broke their ancient vow. That is why he denies you the satisfaction of taking your revenge on my father.’

‘Silence!’ Laughing Jack shrieked.

Flecks of foam had gathered at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were wild.

He snatched his knife from his belt and pointed it at the helpless girl.

‘You will pay!’ he hissed. ‘You will pay in pain and blood for every day you have defied me. When we are under way—’

He glanced over his shoulder at his men, as if just realising that they had not moved.

‘Why do you stand gaping there?’ he shouted. ‘I gave you an order!’

The men looked at one another. Scrawn licked his lips, then spoke.

‘We are not paid to row, Captain,’ he said sullenly. ‘ We did not choose to sail in haste from the head of the Tor to the sea. We begged you to stop along the way—to replace the slaves delivered to the Grey Guards with new ones to man the oars. But you would not listen.’