Emily Rodda - The Shadowlands

The despairing, unbelieving cry had come from below them. From Pi-Ban.

3-19 swung around. ‘Return to your posts!’ he spat at the Guards furiously, then turned back to the Arena.

The red-robed woman had also heard Pi-Ban’s cry. Her lips curved in a cool smile.

Lief stared, horrified. Hellena had been a member of Pi-Ban’s group. She was the friend for whom Brianne had mourned so bitterly. Yet now her eyes gleamed in triumph as the Perns slid the metal box up a ramp and onto the platform. She was revelling in evil. Like Tira.

The Conversion Project… the way of the future…

‘There will be no vraals released today,’ Hellena cried in ringing tones.

Howls of disappointment rose from the audience—howls that changed abruptly to wails as thunder cracked and a ghastly chill swept through the Arena.

The Baks cringed beside the cage. ‘The master is present,’ Bak 3 whimpered.

‘Today a new era begins!’ Hellena cried. ‘After today, nothing will stand in the master’s way. Wherever he lays his hand, all will bow down before him, and do his will. As you will see.’

She raised her hand. ‘Bring Faith!’

Two Guards came up to the platform dragging between them a small, struggling, black-haired girl whose green eyes flashed fury.

Jasmine caught her breath.

Lief’s heart seemed to stop. Barda cursed softly.

The child on the platform, her small face so like Jasmine’s that the two could only be sisters, was scanning the crowd, her eyes filled with fearful hope.

‘This is the sister of one of the master’s most vicious enemies!’ shouted Hellena. ‘But, like the gnome who will be joining her—a gnome I know to be the worst of traitors—she will soon bow willingly before the master.’

The audience roared.

‘We are about to be summoned,’ gabbled Bak 9 fearfully. ‘The master will think we have disobeyed our orders. Dawn has broken, and the cage is uncovered.’

Lief tensed, the child Faith suddenly the last thing on his mind. Surely disaster would not strike now, when they were so close!

The other Baks shuffled their feet nervously. ‘The Ol said—’ one began.

‘Curse the Ol!’ snarled Bak 9. And without further warning the six sprang up onto the sides of the cage and ripped the covers aside.

Emlis, suddenly exposed, rolled in an agony of terror and fell. He hit the ground and lay still. Lief, Barda and Jasmine struggled to rise, to draw their weapons, but they had no chance. The Guards recovered from their shock in an instant. The sparking rods thrashed down, down…

Lief saw Jasmine crumple and fall back, Kree with her. He saw Barda hit once, twice. Then he himself felt a fiery jolt on the back of his neck. Agony shot through him. Then all was darkness.

14 – The Shadow Arena

Lief came to his senses slowly. Something was thumping, thumping, every thunderous beat sending shooting pain through his head. He was lying on a hard, jolting surface that was jarring his aching bones…

He forced his eyes open. His head was jammed against cold bars. He could see nothing beyond the bars, because thick fabric hung over them on the outside.

It took some time to remember what had happened and then to realise, with cold horror, where he was. He was in the cage, and it was moving through the Arena. The sound he could hear was the beating of the great drum.

Barda and Jasmine were stirring beside him. Pi-Ban was crouched by Barda’s head, his face the picture of despair.

Lief felt for his sword, but of course it was gone. With a thrill of terror he moved his hand to his neck, and relief rushed through him as he felt the cord unbroken and the Pirran Pipe still hanging beneath his shirt.

Rough voices were muttering somewhere near. Lief realised that they were the voices of the Guards who were pushing the cage on his side.

‘The Ol will try to claim the credit.’

‘Let it try! When the covers come off, its face will show its surprise. The master will understand that it was the Baks who brought him the three, and that the Ol knew nothing of it.’

‘That scrawny Wild One that was with them—’

Emlis! thought Lief, looking wildly around the cage. Then he remembered. The last he had seen of Emlis was when the little Keron fell from the cage in the tunnel.

Another Guard was speaking. Lief closed his eyes, straining to hear. As he listened, his heart sank.

‘The Wild One was damaged. It crawled away to die. Forget it. It is the three the master wants. Boy. Big man. Girl with black bird. We had fine luck, Bak 3.’

‘And what a fool the Ol will look!’

Low, sly guffaws.

Wincing at the pain in his head, Lief hauled himself to the front of the cage. At the corner, the cover flaps gaped apart. He squinted through the gap.

Ahead, the Ol, 3-19, stalked straight-backed towards the platform where Tira waited, her face like thunder. Beside Tira stood Hellena, one hand holding Faith’s chain, the other resting on the lid of the metal box.

Behind the Grey Guards lining the path pressed the mass of dull-eyed, ragged people. And beyond, rising out of sight, were tiers of seats crowded with onlookers—onlookers of every shape, colour and size.

The audience seemed to be shimmering, shifting, wavering… Lief rubbed his eyes.

Then he realised that his eyes were not at fault. There were a few Ra-Kacharz on the benches, some pods of Guards, and a rabble of Wild Ones. But most of the audience were Ols—Grade 1 and 2 Ols, whose shapes kept changing, melting and re-forming as he watched.

Here, of course, there was no need to deceive. The lower-grade Ols did not have to hold one shape if they did not wish it. They could change at will, for their own entertainment or use.

He focused on one pair as their horned, goat-like heads dissolved into gaping fish-faces, their hands became fins, their colour changed from brown to silver-green, their bodies swelled. This crowded the pair beside them, two women in red bonnets. The women hissed angrily, and for an instant showed their true shape—white and formless, with gaping toothless mouths and eyes like coals. The next moment the white shapes shrank and narrowed, becoming writhing snakes with human faces.

Sickened, Lief looked down again. At the slaves, standing so still and so silent.

And then—then he saw something strange. No-one appeared to be moving, but it was as though ripples were passing through the crowd.

He pressed his face against the bars. Yes! The same tiny actions were being repeated by one person after another. A small turn of the head. Lips moving, so slightly that it would be impossible to see from a distance that words were being said.

A message was being passed among the slaves. And Lief was sure he knew where the message had begun. With Claw, Brianne and Gers, mingling with the crowd at the edge of the Arena. Whispering the same words over and over again.

Watch the platform. Be ready to fight. Get to the road behind the Arena. Pass it on.

‘The word is spreading,’ said Barda’s voice in his ear. ‘We must stop it!’

Lief turned. Barda was behind him, looking over his head into the Arena. The big man’s eyes were deeply shadowed. A great red burn marked his brow where a sparking rod had struck him.

‘It is too late to stop it now,’ Lief said.

‘But everything has changed, and plainly Claw, Brianne and Gers do not know it!’ Barda whispered urgently. ‘They must have been hiding outside the tunnel when we were captured, and saw nothing. If they can see the cage covered now, they no doubt think it is all part of the plan!’

Lief felt for the Pirran Pipe and slipped it from its casing. Tingling warmth flowed through his fingers, and a strange peace stole over him. ‘Nothing has changed, Barda,’ he said calmly. ‘You cannot cage a sound. When we reach the platform, I will play the Pipe exactly as planned. Not as Emlis might have done, but as well as I can.’