Emily Rodda - Shadowgate

Eleven…

He felt a searing pain. He heard Barda cursing. He heard himself screaming.

Then all was darkness.

10 – The Bees

Lief woke suddenly, his heart pounding with fear. There was a low ringing in his ears. Needles of pain stabbed at his face and neck.

The ringing sound slowly faded away.

I must have had a nightmare, Lief thought. He lay very still, calming himself. Shadows flitted at the edges of his mind, but he could remember no dream. What had woken him, then? Woken him in such terror?

Cautiously he tried opening his eyes. They felt swollen and tender, and he could only open them a little. Through his eyelashes he saw blue sky, and sunlight filtering through the leaves of a tree.

It was broad daylight!

He licked his dry lips and swallowed painfully. He realised that he was very thirsty.

He turned his head to look for his water flask. Pain flashed through him, bringing tears to his eyes.

Have I been burned? he thought in confusion. He could smell the ashes of a fire. He could see the remains of a small fire near the trunk of the tree, not far from where he lay.

He could see nothing else. No pack. No water flask. Only trampled earth, deeply rutted with the marks of wagon wheels.

Gritting his teeth, closing his mind to the pain, he turned his head to the other side.

Jasmine lay there, deeply asleep. Her cheek was pillowed on her arm. In her hand was the tiny jar of green ointment. It was as though she had been using the ointment just before she fell asleep.

She was wearing the blue clothes of a Masked Ones acrobat. Her hair was covered by a woollen cap. Her face was smeared with mud and what looked like blood.

Beyond her, as far as Lief could see, the field stretched broad and empty except for the ashes of an enormous fire. The fence had been broken down in several places.

What has happened to us? he thought wildly. Where is Barda? His heart began to thud.

Barda is in danger…

The feeling was strong, but another feeling, or vague memory, was mingling with it. Something about Kree…

A fly buzzed close to his face, then settled on his arm. Lief wanted to brush it away, but feared that he could not lift his hand.

Another fly joined the first. Then Lief realised that they were not flies at all, but bees.

And at the same moment, as if in a dream, he heard sounds drifting on the breeze from somewhere beyond the field. The jingling of tiny bells. And singing.

Here we are in Happy Vale ,

Pretty bees, busy bees .

Three long hours on the trail ,

Fuzzy, buzzy bees .

Did you hear the clock strike eight?

Clever bees, tired bees .

Pray that we are not too late ,

Hungry, bumbly bees .

As if the song had thrown open a window in Lief’s mind, he suddenly understood several things at once.

He had been woken by the striking of the Happy Vale clock. The sound had filled him with terror, but he did not know why.

It was eight o’clock in the morning. The Masked Ones had left in the night. He and Jasmine were alone here, with no weapons, no food, no water.

And the person passing by the field, the singer of the jolly little song, was…

Trust only old friends…

Lief tried to shout, but his voice was a husky croak. He struggled to sit up. His head swam and he nearly fell back. Grimly he propped himself up with his hands.

So it was that he saw the great black bird swooping towards him. He saw the swarm of bees stretching like a trail of smoke all the way to the field gate. And he saw a shabby caravan, drawn by a fat old horse and driven by a huge, brown-skinned, golden-haired man, turning into the gateway and following the line of bees.

On the side of the caravan was a familiar, faded sign.

‘Jasmine!’ Lief croaked.

Jasmine’s eyes flew open in fright and widened even further when she saw Lief sitting up and looking at her.

‘Lief?’ she murmured uncertainly, scrambling to her knees. ‘Are you—all right?’

He nodded, wincing at the pain in his neck. Why was Jasmine staring at him so strangely?

With a chill, he wondered what he looked like. He lifted his hand to his cheek.

Searing pain. Sticky cream coating his fingertips.

‘Am I—burned?’ he managed to croak.

Jasmine shook her head. She pulled off her cap, and her black hair tumbled around her shoulders. Her eyes were very dark. Filli was hiding beneath her jacket, only the tip of his nose visible.

‘Do you not remember what happened last night?’ Jasmine asked. ‘What—what I did?’

‘No.’ Lief swallowed painfully.

She breathed a long sigh and closed her eyes as if in relief.

‘Barda,’ Lief rasped. ‘Where is—?’

‘He went in pursuit of the Masked Ones,’ Jasmine whispered. ‘Kree is with him. Lief—’

‘At last!’ boomed a voice. ‘And both alive, by the looks of it!’

Jasmine jumped violently and swung around. She had been concentrating on Lief so intently that she had not even noticed the approaching caravan.

Kree flew to her, landing on her arm. She leaped to her feet.

‘Steven!’ she cried. ‘Am I dreaming?’

Steven the pedlar’s face split in a broad grin. ‘Not unless I am dreaming as well,’ he roared back. ‘How fortunate that I was in these parts! I have been in Purley, with my mother’s best hive of bees. We heard that flowers were blooming in the east, but I fear there are not yet enough to have made the journey worthwhile.’

He brought the horse to a halt beside them and climbed down from the driver’s seat.

‘Steven, did you see some wagons on the road?’ Jasmine asked feverishly. ‘Wagons driven by people in masks?’

Steven nodded. ‘Oh, yes, I met the Masked Ones,’ he said. ‘Traded with them, in fact, as I have often done before. They were far fewer than the last time we met—the inner circle only, and a few youngsters. Silent and nervous they were, too.’

He grinned. ‘Later I met someone even more interesting—or found him, rather, thanks to Kree.’

Jasmine shrieked. Steven laughed, strode to the back of the caravan and threw open the doors.

‘There he is,’ he said triumphantly, as Jasmine jumped eagerly into the van. ‘He was lying in a ditch—put to sleep by some Masked One trickery or other, no doubt. If Kree had not been guarding him, I would have passed him by.’

‘Steven!’ Lief rasped. ‘Is it—Barda?’

Steven looked around and seemed to see him properly for the first time.

‘Lief!’ he gasped, dismayed. ‘By the heavens! What happened to you?’

‘I—am not quite sure,’ said Lief, trying to smile.

Jasmine climbed back out of the caravan, her face very grave. Lief’s heart seemed to leap into his throat.

‘Surely Barda is not worse than I thought?’ Steven asked anxiously.

Jasmine shook her head. ‘He stirred when I spoke to him,’ she said. ‘He took some water, and said a few words. I daresay the spell, or whatever it was, will pass off in time.’

Steven laughed with relief. ‘Why, I thought from your expression that we would soon be attending his funeral!’ he exclaimed.

Jasmine said nothing. Still she did not look at Lief. He had groaned with relief on hearing that Barda was safe. Now the tightness in his chest came back in force.

Steven glanced at him, then back at Jasmine.

‘Cheer up, girl!’ he said to her loudly, raising his bushy eyebrows. ‘Your long face is worrying Lief half to death!’