Emily Rodda - Shadowgate

Steven had filled his place admirably, of course. Without Steven, the quest would have ended in disaster.

But now, thought Barda, Steven is back in the caravan with Zerry and I am flying to Shadowgate. All is as it should be. I will not fail again.

Jasmine was thinking of the horses yoked to Laughing Jack’s wagon. She was bitterly regretting that she had not been able to release them.

She had tried. If she had had more time, she could have done it. But Lief had called and she had run to him, leaving the horses to their fate.

Should she tell her companions the terrible thing that she had discovered as she followed Lief past the wagon after their fruitless effort to find the Belt?

No, she thought, hugging Filli and Kree closer, drawing comfort from their warmth. I must keep it to myself. Why grieve Lief and Barda to no purpose? Nothing can be done about it now.

Lief was fighting waking nightmares.

Again and again he relived the moment when the mask of Bede’s adulthood settled over his face. Again and again he saw the Happy Vale noticeboard, its sad main message surrounded by the notes that Laughing Jack had left for Fern.

Again and again he saw the dread black shape rising above Otto’s wagon, the green gleam that was its face, the smooth white fingers oozing back into its robes. Again and again he saw the Shadow Lord’s brand burning on Fern’s tortured face, and heard those last, whispered words.

Beware the Masked One…

He shook his head. Why could he not clear his mind of these things? They were in the past, and could not harm him now.

Bess was dead. Fern was dead. Laughing Jack had fled. And whoever had conjured up the deadly phantom was in the camp of the Masked Ones, far away. Further away every moment, as the lapis-lazuli dragon sped through the dawn, following the line of the mountains towards their goal.

But instead of fading, the visions were growing brighter. The feeling of something left undone, something not understood, was strengthening. The whispered warning was hissing more loudly in his ears.

Beware the Masked One…

And now another sound was mingling with the memory of Fern’s dying breath. A faint, ringing tune—

four notes, repeated again and again, like a bird call, or the chiming of bells.

The Happy Vale clock, no doubt, Lief thought. The chime that comes before the striking of the hour.

His skin prickled, and he shut the sweet notes out of his mind. But always they returned, calling him.

The sky was still dark when the dragon landed, in a dreary place of rock and dead, twisted trees.

The mountains rose all around them, black and brutal, capped with snow. Thick grey clouds smothered the rising sun. A chill wind moaned through the cliffs, bringing with it the howls of distant beasts.

Lief, Barda and Jasmine slid to the ground, and stood shivering in the gloom.

‘This is the place,’ said the dragon. ‘Or very near it.’

It glanced over its shoulder, and its skin twitched. Its eyes were no longer sparkling, but dull as stones.

‘There is a small village through there,’ it muttered, jerking its head towards a gap between two cliffs. ‘I saw it from the air. It has a wall of sticks around it. I saw humans creeping about within, like sick mice in a cage. And beyond it, I saw… other things.’

It shuddered.

Bess’s voice seemed to whisper in Lief’s mind.

There are beasts, deep in the mountains. Monsters beyond imagining. Things that crawl in the shadows. Things that growl deep below the rock… Shadowgate lies among them .

Lief drew his sword. He heard Barda do the same. He heard Jasmine murmur to Kree, and the clatter of wings as Kree took to the air.

The raw patches on his face stung in the icy wind. The four notes of music rang in his ears. Louder now. And again came the whisper…

Beware the Masked One…

He felt like screaming to drown out the sounds.

Will I never be free of this? he thought desperately. Did that cursed mask change me forever?

The dragon shifted its feet. ‘What will you do?’ it asked. Grimly, Lief noted that it had not said ‘we’.

‘We will go to the village,’ he said. ‘It is the village of Shadowgate. You can guide us from there.’

Silently Barda and Jasmine came up beside him. Together they moved towards the gap. The dragon shuffled behind them, its tail rasping on the rock, its claws scrabbling.

The gap was long and straight, and broader than it had looked from a distance. The cliffs that towered on either side of it were pitted with holes and caves. The wind howled through it like a lost soul. And they could hear other sounds—growls, scratchings and chitterings, from deep within the rock.

Here the Masked Ones came, seven years ago, Lief thought.

He could almost see the wagons rumbling through the pass, the drivers sitting rigidly, alert to every sound. He could almost see Otto, Rust, Quill, Plug, and all the rest… and in the lead wagon, the mammoth figure of Bess, her beloved son beside her.

Jasmine’s voice broke sharply into his thoughts.

‘Lief! I beg you to stop humming that tune!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is driving me mad! What is it?’

Lief clapped his hand over his mouth. The four notes had been ringing in his head, but he had not realised he was humming them aloud.

‘It is the Happy Vale clock, I think,’ he mumbled. ‘It seems to be stuck in my brain.’

‘This pass does not smell safe, king,’ called the dragon behind him. ‘And it is too narrow for me. You must find another way.’

‘There is no other way,’ Lief said. ‘You will have to fly, and meet us on the other side.’

The dragon made an unhappy, gurgling sound, but spread its wings and soared upward.

‘I have my doubts about that beast,’ muttered Barda. ‘I would not be surprised if it deserted us.’

‘It is not in its own territory,’ Jasmine snapped. ‘Naturally it is uneasy.’

Barda hunched his shoulders and did not answer.

Lief looked up. Kree was sailing between the cliff tops, riding the wind, yellow eyes searching the ground. Above him soared the lapis-lazuli dragon, almost invisible, its underside matching the dark grey sky.

Keeping close together, glancing often behind them, Lief, Barda and Jasmine began to walk through the pass. Lief saw Jasmine frown at him, and realised that he had begun humming again. He pressed his lips together.

‘That is not the Happy Vale clock chime, Lief,’ Barda said. ‘The Happy Vale clock went like this.’

He whistled a quite different tune, a tune with five notes instead of four.

‘You are right,’ Lief said, suddenly remembering. ‘But then, why do I keep hearing—’

‘It is probably some tune Bess taught you!’ Jasmine broke in impatiently. ‘What does it matter? With everything—everything else we have to think of!’

She turned her head away, biting her lips.

And at that moment, Kree screeched a warning.

Instantly the three companions drew together, back to back. There was nothing ahead of them, nothing behind. Weapons raised, they scanned the cliff walls.

Eyes glinted in every hole, every crevice. The cliff walls were alive with stealthy movement. Here, a dripping, pointed snout poked out of a tunnel. There, a bundle of blunt claws scrabbled against the rock. Bubbles of grey slime frothed silently from cracks and slid downward.

‘Move on!’ Barda breathed. ‘On!’

They began to run. But Kree was still screeching above them, screeching warning again and again. And suddenly there was a thunderous roar that seemed to shake the rock.

The eyes in the cliff face blinked out. The snouts and claws disappeared as if they had never been.