Emily Rodda - Shadowgate

There was the sound of scraping flint. Light began dancing on the grass as a lantern flamed into life.

Lief crawled to his knees, feeling as stiff as an old, old man and as weak as a baby. He was ashamed to see Jasmine already standing up, with Kree perched on her arm and Filli chattering on her shoulder.

‘Where are we, dragon?’ Jasmine was asking. ‘Can you show us on our map?’

‘I know nothing of maps,’ the dragon said. ‘I know only that this is the far north of my territory, and very near to the land of the opal.’

It turned its great head towards the forest. ‘As I landed I saw lights there, and heard music,’ it added helpfully. ‘Humans are camped not far away. No doubt they can tell you what you wish to know.’

Lief found his voice. ‘Thank you for carrying us,’ he said. ‘You have saved us weeks of travelling.’

The dragon bowed. ‘It is the least I could do for the king who roused me to life again,’ it said, its red eyes gleaming. ‘Dreams are all very fine, but not as fine as the splash of sparkling water, or the warmth of the sun.’

The breeze blew, bringing with it the over-sweet, slightly rotten smell of the field, and the faint sound of music. The dragon moved restlessly.

‘I must go,’ it murmured. ‘I do not like the smell of this place. I know that our tie will not be broken now, wherever you may go, but partings make me sad. Farewell. I will think of you.’

Without waiting for an answer, it launched itself into the air. In moments it was gone.

Barda looked around. ‘It would be best to stay away from the forest for tonight, I think,’ he said. ‘Let us see what is behind the hedge on the other side.’

They shouldered their packs and walked across the field. When they reached the hedge, they received their first surprise. It was not covered with flowers at all, but with huge, white moths.

The moths were big as small birds, and all exactly alike. There were thousands of them. A few were on the outer leaves of the hedge. Most were clinging to twigs deep inside it. All were slowly opening and closing their wings, which bore odd red markings.

‘There is something strange about them,’ Jasmine said, peering at them. ‘They hardly look real!’

Impulsively, Lief stretched out a finger and gently touched the tip of a moth’s wing.

At once, the red markings lit up like tiny beacons.

Exclaiming in shock, Lief jumped back. The next instant the moth spat—a thin jet of liquid that sizzled as it hit the ground.

Filli squealed. Kree screeched and took flight.

‘Lief, you fool!’ Barda thundered. ‘Did it hit you?’

‘No,’ gasped Lief, very shaken. ‘But it was a near thing!’

‘Beware!’ Jasmine said urgently. ‘Get back!’

All the moths around the first one were now lighting up and spitting their poison. The hedge blazed with tiny red lights. But none of the creatures moved from their places, and after a few moments the spitting stopped, and the red markings began to fade.

‘What are these creatures?’ Jasmine cried, as Kree landed on her arm once more, very ruffled. ‘It is as if they are alive, yet not alive. As if—’

Lief gasped. He had suddenly seen something astounding.

The strange red markings on the moths’ wings made words.

‘The moths make a warning line!’ he exclaimed. He moved a little closer to one of the moths and, being careful not to touch it, pointed to the letters one by one.

‘Keep Out,’ Jasmine said. ‘So it is forbidden to pass through this hedge. But who has forbidden it? And why? What is on the other side?’

‘I do not give a fig!’ Barda growled irritably. There seem to be no moths in the hedge on the forest side of the field. Come on!’

They trudged wearily to the other side of the field. They found that the dark hedge was thin and full of gaps. Plainly people had been pushing through it very recently, moving in and out of the field.

Jasmine lifted her arm to place Kree on her shoulder. As she settled him there, her hand brushed the back of his neck, and he squawked. Puzzled, she lifted her hand to the light. It was streaked with blood.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, pulled Kree to her and examined his neck. He clucked uneasily.

‘The Orchard Keeper’s beak must have jabbed you here, Kree,’ she murmured, dabbing his neck with creamy green ointment from the small jar she carried with her everywhere. ‘I had not noticed. It is a small wound, but deep. No doubt it pulled open when you were startled just now. We must—’

Abruptly she broke off, listening intently.

‘What is it?’ Lief hissed.

‘Someone is coming,’ Jasmine breathed.

Instantly Barda blew out the lantern. They pressed into the hedge, and peered through the sparse leaves.

As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they saw that the hedge was separated from the forest by a deep, gaping ditch. They could see little else.

Kree squawked softly.

‘Go, then,’ Jasmine whispered reluctantly.

Kree hopped out of the hedge, flew over the ditch and disappeared into the darkness.

In breathless silence, they waited. In a few moments Lief and Barda heard what Jasmine’s sharper ears had heard before them—the cracking of twigs, the thudding of feet, a stream of grunts and panted curses.

Kree screeched from the trees.

‘An enemy,’ Jasmine breathed. ‘Kree is sure of that. But there is something he does not—’

She fell silent as the bobbing, flickering light of a torch became visible through the trees.

The sounds came closer. The torchlight grew brighter. And suddenly a giant of a man burst through the last of the trees and stood at the edge of the ditch, breathing heavily.

He was vast, with legs like tree-trunks, a huge belly and enormous, beefy shoulders. He held a club in one hand, and a flaming torch in the other. His massive arms were bare, and adorned with beaten metal bands. Every one of his sausage-like fingers shone with rings. Animal skins, lashed in place by leather cords, covered his body.

And then he lifted the torch and they saw his face.

They saw tiny, fierce eyes blazing over a snuffling, fleshy snout. They saw ears flopping amid bristly brown hair. They saw a snarling mouth and razor sharp tusks.

The man had the head of a wild pig.

The pig-man growled ferociously, his small eyes darting left and right, searching the darkness.

‘I know you are here, spies,’ he roared. ‘I heard your voices. I saw your light!’

There was a rustle in the tree above him and he looked up, snarling. But when he saw only a black bird, silently watching him, he grunted in disgust and looked down again.

‘How did you cross the line, spies?’ he roared. ‘What trick did you use to break into the secret field? Are you going to tell me you fell out of the sky?’

Lief, Barda and Jasmine looked at one another, all realising the truth at the same moment. They had assumed that the moths in the hedge were to stop people moving from the field to whatever was on the other side.

But it had been the other way around. The moths were to keep intruders out of the field, and out of this part of the forest.

How could they have known? They really had dropped into the field from the sky. But they could not tell the pig-man that. And, even if they did, he plainly would not believe it.

‘Show yourselves!’ the pig-man bellowed.

The companions remained utterly still. There was a chance that if they remained hidden, he would grow tired of the dark and the cold and go back to his den.