Emily Rodda - Shadowgate

Though together they could no doubt overpower him at last, none of them wanted to be forced to try. They still had far to go. Their quest was too important for them to risk needless injury. The pig-man was powerful and filled with fury.

But that is not all, Lief thought, his skin crawling as he stared at the ugly figure stamping on the other side of the ditch. There is malice here. Something terrible, that none of us understand.

He was shivering, as if chilled to the bone.

Evil was near, very near. He could feel it, coming closer. He could almost see it, rushing, shapeless, through the shadows of the ditch. He had an absurd urge to shout—to jump up and shriek a warning.

‘You are hiding in the ditch, or behind the hedge!’ bawled the pig-man. ‘Come out, or I will come and get you!’

He waited a moment, then lumbered forward and began sliding clumsily into the ditch. Mud squelched as his feet hit the bottom.

A black shadow soared past his head, and a beak snapped, just missing his ear. He staggered, slipped and pitched over, disappearing from sight.

‘No, Kree!’ breathed Jasmine, clenching her fists anxiously as Kree returned to the attack.

The pig-man crawled to his feet, cursing. He was wet and smeared with slimy filth, but the torch was still alight. Roaring with anger, he wallowed in the mud, swinging the torch above his head to keep off the swooping bird.

The torch flame blazed as it swung wildly from side to side. Light danced in the muddy ditch, banishing shadows where it fell. Suddenly, Kree gave a screech and seemed to stop dead in mid-air. Then he soared upwards, disappearing into the blackness of the sky.

The pig-man grunted with satisfaction, but as he lowered the torch he gave a slight start. He leaned over a little, pushing his hideous, bristly head forward to peer into the gloom further along the ditch.

Then he chuckled. ‘Peek-a-boo, I see you!’ he growled.

A chill ran down Lief’s spine.

The pig-man raised his club, took a step forward…

Then he screamed—a shrill, terrified squeal that raised the hair on the back of Lief’s neck. And out of the shadows of the ditch rose a thing of nightmare—a vast thing, black and hooded.

3 – The Masked Ones

The black thing loomed above the pig-man, darker than the night. He screamed again and staggered backwards. The thing did not move. Thin, white hands crept out of its billowing blackness—hands with long, grasping fingers that had no marks, no lines, no nails.

The fingers twitched. Then smoothly, impossibly, they began to lengthen, snaking forward to fasten around the pig-man’s neck.

The next moment he was jerked off his feet, choking and gurgling, his boots kicking at the sides of the ditch, the torch still clutched in his hand.

The thing shook him, like a dog shaking a rat. The terrible gurgling sounds stopped abruptly, and the pig-man went limp.

The thing tossed him aside. His huge body sailed through the air like a floppy, broken doll and fell heavily into the mud. With a hiss the torch went out, and the ditch was plunged into darkness.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye. Shocked, not daring to move, Lief, Barda and Jasmine crouched in their hiding place. Then, high above them, Kree screeched.

‘Kree says the thing has vanished,’ Jasmine said in a low voice.

And Lief knew that it was so. He was no longer shivering. But cold dread still gripped him like icy, white fingers.

‘It may return at any moment,’ he muttered. ‘We must get into the forest.’

In feverish haste, they pushed forward to the edge of the ditch. Kree flew down to them. He perched on Jasmine’s shoulder and made a low sound.

‘Kree saw the thing in the shadows before the pig-man did,’ Jasmine said. ‘That was why he flew away. He says the shadow thing was not alive. Not alive as we are.’

‘It was alive enough to kill,’ Barda said grimly.

The breeze was still blowing gently. The only sound was the rustling of the leaves.

Something nagged at the edge of Lief’s mind, but he could not quite catch hold of it. His brain was telling him that something had changed. But he was too tired and shocked to think what it was.

Barda lit the lantern again, and the companions slid down into the ditch. It was very deep. Standing at the bottom was like being buried under the earth. Sound was muffled, and the air smelled of damp and slime.

The body of the pig-man lay nearby, face down in the mud. Jasmine darted over to it.

‘Jasmine!’ Barda hissed angrily.

Jasmine ignored him. She bent over the mud-smeared body for a long moment. Then, rapidly, she patted the animal skins that swathed it. Something rustled, and she drew out a bundle of green papers.

Barda lowered the lantern. By its glow they read the words on the paper at the top of the bundle.

Jasmine flicked through the other papers. They were all the same.

‘So now we know his name, and how he earned his living,’ she said. ‘But how he died, I cannot tell. His neck does not seem to be broken. It is as though his heart just—stopped.’

Lief’s scalp was crawling. ‘Let us get away from here!’ he said hoarsely.

‘It is too late for that!’ a sharp voice barked.

Very startled, Lief, Barda and Jasmine looked up.

And there, standing looking down at them from the edge of the ditch, stood two grotesque figures.

A man with the head of an eagle. A woman with the head of a fox.

And behind them was a crowd—a crowd of beings that were all half-human, half-beast.

The music has stopped! Lief thought wildly. That is what I noticed at the edge of the ditch. The pig-man must have come from the camp in the forest. They heard his screams. And now they think—

‘Madaras!’ cried the fox-woman shrilly.

Instantly all the animal people behind her leaped into the ditch. Kree took flight. Lief, Barda and Jasmine fell beneath the press of a dozen struggling bodies.

They fought valiantly. But against so many, they had no chance.

In minutes, the companions were being dragged through the forest. Their weapons had been taken. Dozens of hands held them fast. Their captors jostled all around them, talking angrily in a strange language. The only words Lief could make out were two names—’Otto’ and, repeated over and over again, ‘Bess’.

‘You are making a mistake!’ Lief shouted. ‘We did not kill Otto. He—’

‘Save your lies, bareface spy!’ snarled the eagle-man from behind him. ‘You will rue the day you crossed the line of the Masked Ones.’

‘The Masked Ones!’ Lief heard Barda exclaim.

‘Ah, yes! Pretend you did not know!’ the eagle-man jeered.

Masks! Lief thought, with a shock. He looked around at his captors.

Their heads looked so real! But now he could see what should have been obvious to him all along.

These people were all wearing masks ! Amazing masks, that covered their heads closely, fitting like a second skin.

‘ Lat as kall tam na, Quill! ’ growled a short woman with the head of a frog.

‘ Na! Bess mast say tam,’ the eagle-man muttered.

Lights became visible through the trees, and moments later the companions were being dragged into a crowded clearing. A great fire blazed in the centre. There was the smell of cooking, and a confused roar of sound.

A huge banner had been stretched between two trees. It flapped lightly in the breeze.