Emily Rodda - Shadowgate

The companions spent that night huddled beneath the tree that shaded Otto’s wagon, with Kree keeping watch above them.

The ground was cold and hard, but they preferred it to sleeping inside. Someone had taken away the mattress, the fur rug and the trunk of clothes. But, even empty, the wagon seemed haunted by memories of the pig-man and his horrible death.

Gradually, the lights around the camp were put out as people went to their rest. But just when all seemed quiet the great central fire began to burn more brightly, and low voices began chanting and singing.

The sounds went on and on. The fire blazed higher.

Several times Lief sat up. Several times he peered at the figures chanting around the roaring fire, and wondered what they were doing.

In the darkest hours of the night, the voices rose a little. For the first time, Lief heard some words clearly.

Farwall, Otto. Farwall, ald fraud. Yar mask as ashas. Yar bady as dast. Naw ya dwall an ta grayt layt. Wan day way wall jayan ya. Wayt far as. Wayt far as…

Then, at last, he understood.

Farewell, Otto. Farewell, old friend… Now you dwell in the great light. One day we will join you. Wait for us. Wait for us…

Otto’s body, and all his possessions, were being burned. The inner circle of the Masked Ones was farewelling one of its own.

Lief lay down again and pulled his blanket close around his chin. He closed his eyes. He willed himself to sleep. But when at last sleep came, leaping flames and a shapeless black figure with long white fingers haunted his dreams.

5 – Happy Vale

Just before dawn, Lief was woken by a clamour of shouting, banging and clattering. Horses were snorting. Harness was jingling.

‘What is it?’ he asked sleepily.

‘They are preparing to leave,’ said Barda, throwing aside his blanket and sitting up with a groan.

‘Indeed we are,’ said a sharp voice. ‘And if you intend to come with us, you had better rouse yourselves.’

Rust emerged from the shadows. ‘Bess sent you these,’ she snapped, throwing a cloth bag on the ground. ‘Put them on, and keep them on. The sight of your naked faces offends us as much as your smell.’

She turned on her heel, and left them.

‘I do not think she is very fond of us,’ Barda grinned. He up-ended the bag. Three masks tumbled out.

The first was a massive animal head, striped in black and yellow. The second was smaller and older, but far more exquisitely made. It was a blue-feathered bird head with a yellow beak. The third, the smallest of all, was a shapeless mass of grey fur, with a black nose and bent whiskers.

Barda put on the striped mask and was instantly transformed into a glaring stranger.

He threw the bird mask to Lief. ‘This is yours, I suspect, young Lewin, since you are to be Bess’s songbird,’ he said.

Reluctantly, Lief pulled the blue-feathered mask over his head. To his surprise, he could hear, see and breathe far better than he had expected.

All the same, he felt uneasy. He touched his feathered face and a chill ran down his spine.

Jasmine put on the grey mask. Kree screeched and flew to a higher branch. Filli chittered anxiously.

‘They do not like it,’ Jasmine said sadly. ‘They do not know me.’

Barda burst out laughing. ‘I am not surprised!’ he said. ‘No-one would know you. No-one would know any of us! Why, we could travel the length and breadth of Deltora and never be recognised! This is a fine plan!’

He jumped to his feet and strode off to hitch Otto’s horse to the wagon.

‘I am not so sure,’ Jasmine muttered. ‘But—’

She broke off as an eerie, high-pitched screech floated from the direction of the field.

‘What was that?’ Lief gasped.

‘I do not know,’ Jasmine said, puzzled. Then she shrugged, dismissing the problem from her mind.

‘But in any case, we made Bess no promises,’ she continued. ‘We will stay with the Masked Ones only as long as it suits us.’

Lief nodded unhappily. He could not rid himself of the feeling that somehow he had lost control of his own destiny.

Dawn was breaking as the wagons moved out of the forest and turned onto a rough road that ran beside the mountains.

Only the drivers rode. Everyone else walked beside the wagons, or trailed in a straggling line behind them.

Barda drove Otto’s wagon. Lief and Jasmine trudged beside it. Kree flew high above, keeping them in view but never venturing close enough to be noticed.

The road became smoother and broader, and the wagons picked up speed. In another hour they passed a new sign. The Masked Ones pointed and jeered.

Lief sighed. Plainly Mad Keeth Nose, whoever he was, believed that the king chose to build bridges and roads instead of ordering more food to be grown.

If only I could order the crops to grow strong, and the trees to bear fruit, he thought. If only it were that simple!

Now and again the wagons passed a tiny village. People always came running to stare and wave.

The Masked Ones would wave back. Some would juggle a few coloured balls or play a tune on a pipe. But the wagons kept moving.

‘Why do we not stop?’ Jasmine said, as they passed the fourth such ragged group.

‘It is not worth their while to perform at small places,’ sighed a woman behind them.

They turned to look at her. She was wearing a neatly made ginger cat mask. The eyes behind the mask were dull. Plainly she was one of the ‘bareface hangers-on’ the fox-woman had spoken of with such contempt.

‘How long have you been with the Masked Ones?’ Lief asked, eager to keep the conversation going.

‘My man and I joined them last winter,’ the woman said in a low voice. ‘He does heavy work around the camp. I mend costumes and masks. Make them, too, sometimes, for once I was a fine seamstress.’

Again she sighed. ‘At least we eat every day now, which is more than we did at home. But I am sick of travelling.’

‘What of the mask?’ Lief asked.

‘Oh, I am used to that by now,’ the woman said carelessly. ‘Most of the time I forget I am wearing it.’

She raised her hand to her mask.

‘Even at first, I did not mind it,’ she said slowly. ‘I have no love for what is beneath it. And neither does my man, I am sure, whatever he says. I was branded on my cheek, in the time of the Shadow Lord. Whatever beauty I had is long gone.’

Lief said nothing. For once he was glad of his own mask. It hid the pity he knew his face must show—and what could helpless pity do but make this sad woman even sadder?

By mid afternoon, Lief knew they must be well into opal territory. But clearly they had crossed another border also.

They had left the budding hope of the east behind them. Gradually they had moved into the desolate realm of the Sister of the North.

Thorns tangled on the roadsides. Crops were yellow and stunted. Kree was the only bird in the sky.

Lief felt Jasmine nudging him, and looked up.

The fox-woman stood by the side of the road just ahead. When they reached her, she fell into step beside them.

‘When we arrive in Happy Vale, go straight to Bess’s wagon,’ she said to Lief, her voice totally without expression. ‘Bess wishes your training to begin at once.’

She stepped to the side of the road again and began walking rapidly towards the front of the procession without a backward glance.