Emily Rodda - Dragon's Nest

Then suddenly there was a roar from the bank of the lake and a spear flew over Lief’s body, grazing the bird’s black wing before plunging into the water behind it.

The bird faltered, took a step back. The quills on its neck rose further. Its beak opened.

The roar came again, and then there was the sound of splashing as someone ran through the water towards them.

‘On your way, Orchard Keeper!’ boomed a voice. ‘These people are mine!’

Another spear hurtled through the air, this time scratching the bird’s neck.

The bird decided it had had enough. It turned and began stalking rapidly away. In moments it had disappeared among the trees.

There was a peal of mocking laughter. A shadow fell across Lief’s face. He looked up, dazed and squinting.

An enormous figure in a cap of fur towered over him, blocking the sun. An arm stretched out to pluck the spears from the mud.

‘That was a near thing,’ boomed the voice. ‘One moment more and you would have been dead meat. I have been tracking you since first light—but what a dance you led me with that trick in the stream! If the black bird had not screeched fit to crack the heavens I would never have found you.’

Lief struggled, and tried vainly to speak.

Again the booming laugh rang out. The shadow moved. Long legs bound with strips of leather stepped over Lief.

Lief watched in confusion as the giant stranger lifted Filli from the water, inspected him, sniffed his wet fur, then nodded and placed him gently on Jasmine’s chest.

‘Who … are … you?’ Lief rasped.

‘Why, has your sight grown as feeble as your voice, Lief of Del? Do you not know me?’ roared the stranger, tearing off the fur cap.

Relief and amazement swept over Lief as he focused on the long, narrow black eyes, the straight, black brows and, most unmistakable of all, the shaved head painted with swirling red designs.

‘Lindal!’ he rasped. ‘Lindal of Broome! But how …? Why …? … Oh, it is so good to see you!’

‘You will not think so when you hear the news I bring,’ Lindal said grimly. ‘But that will have to wait. First I must get you and your foolish friends on your feet. We must leave here, and I cannot carry you all.’

She splashed to the nearest tree and picked a golden fruit. Then she returned to Lief and squatted beside him.

‘Eat this!’ she ordered, tearing off some of the fruit’s skin and pressing it into Lief’s mouth.

He choked and tried to spit the bitter stuff out.

‘No!’ Lindal shouted, pressing her hand to his lips. ‘Chew and swallow! Do you want to lie in this boneyard croaking like a frog forever? The skin is the antidote to Sleeper Fruit flesh. You must have eaten some before, or you would be as helpless as your friends.’

When she saw that Lief had understood, she removed her hand and stood up.

‘Now for the others,’ she said, grinning at the faces he made as he chewed the vile-tasting peel. ‘I will have to feed them the antidote little by little—at least until they begin to stir. When you can stand, come and help me. The bird may return in a dangerous mood, and I do not want to have to fight it to the death. It is bad luck, they say, to kill an Orchard Keeper.’

14 - A Message in Blood

By the time Jasmine and Barda had been revived, the sun was low in the sky. All three of the companions were weak, and Filli was dazed and helpless, but Lindal insisted they move on.

‘It is not far to the forest edge from here,’ she said. ‘When we are in the open, you can rest in safety.’

Refusing to say another word, she set off at a brisk pace.

Lief, Barda and Jasmine had no choice but to follow her. With Kree flying ahead, and Filli lying limp beneath Jasmine’s shirt, they beat their way through a tangle of ferns, then through thickets of brush and brambles, their legs trembling, their heads spinning.

At last, at sunset, they burst into open ground. Ahead was a vast plain. The sky was streaked red and orange. A fresh breeze cooled their faces.

They stood, exhausted and staring.

‘This is my country,’ Lindal said with satisfaction. ‘Sit! Rest! I will build a fire and hunt for some food.’

And so tired were Lief, Barda and Jasmine that they crumpled to the ground where they stood.

When they woke, the sky above them was like black velvet sprinkled with diamonds. The fire had died down to a mass of glowing coals, and the air was filled with the smell of cooking.

Lindal was already eating, sitting cross-legged and chewing on a bone with relish.

When she saw that her companions had awoken, she tossed the bone aside. She licked her fingers, then seized a wicked-looking knife and began sawing at the joint of meat still sizzling on the coals.

‘Here,’ she said, passing hot, dripping chunks to each of them. ‘Pig rat—a fine, plump one too, for once.’

Even Jasmine, who rarely ate meat, fell upon the food, which was rich and savoury, despite its doubtful name. There was warm, flat bread, too, baked in the ashes of the fire, and some fresh, curly green leaves Lief had never seen before. They tasted slightly peppery, but were crisp and strangely refreshing.

‘Traveller’s Weed. Good for the belly!’ said Lindal, cramming a handful of leaves into her mouth with one hand and slapping her flat stomach with the other. ‘I was lucky to find it. There is little around these days, though once, the old folk say, it grew in every ditch.’

Her heartiness sounded a little forced, and Lief suddenly remembered what she had said about having bad news. He realised she was delaying the moment when she would have to tell it.

He leaned forward, but before he could say anything, Barda spoke.

‘What a meal, Lindal!’ the big man said. ‘How our guards would envy us! No doubt they are making a miserable dinner of travellers’ biscuit and dried fish tonight.’

Lindal looked stricken.

Here it comes, Lief thought, with sudden dread. It is something about the guards.

The smile faded from Barda’s face. ‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘Why do you look like that?’

‘There is something I must tell you,’ Lindal muttered. ‘Something bad. Your men …’

She bent her head and rubbed her hand over her painted skull. Then she looked up and met Barda’s eyes.

‘Your men are all dead,’ she said.

Jasmine gasped with shock. Barda’s face looked as if it had been turned to stone.

‘How?’ Lief heard himself asking, and wondered how his voice could sound so calm, when his mind was roaring with grief and horror.

‘Their camp on the outskirts of Ringle was attacked last night,’ Lindal said, staring into the fire. ‘Everyone in the town heard their cries, and woke.’

‘As did we,’ Lief whispered, remembering the distant screams he had heard in the darkness of the night.

‘Many people in Ringle snatched up weapons and hurried to the camp,’ Lindal said. ‘But by the time we reached it, the guards were dead—dead and burning.’

‘Burning!’ whispered Jasmine. She glanced at Lief, and a wave of heat swept over him.

It cannot be! he told himself. No! It cannot …

Barda wet his lips. ‘They must have been taken by surprise,’ he said with difficulty. ‘Attacked by someone they would never suspect. Treachery …’

Suddenly he looked suspiciously at Lindal. ‘And how did you just happen to be in Ringle last night of all nights, Lindal of Broome?’ he asked, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

Lindal lifted her chin. ‘I do not have to answer to you, you bumbling ox,’ she sneered. ‘Any more than you have to tell me why you are travelling inland instead of by the coast road, as planned.’

Her lip curled. ‘Or why you chose to play the hero in the Forests of Silence while your men went on to Ringle, and their deaths,’ she added.