Emily Rodda - Cavern Of Fear

And save themselves from strife?

The chorus of counting began again. Lief tried to forget about Jinks and concentrate on the rhyme.

Three pies. No knife. Equal shares for four people. It sounded impossible! But he knew that such apparently impossible puzzles always contained a simple trick.

The chanting of the Granous pounded on.

‘… TWELVE. ELEVEN. TEN…’

‘Lief!’ Barda whispered urgently. ‘Perhaps one of the four was killed by the others. The verse says they loved food more than life.’

Lief shook his head. ‘It says they all had equal shares,’ he whispered back. ‘All of them. The king, his sister, his friend and…

A thought stirred in the back of his mind.

‘… FIVE! FOUR!…’

Barda cursed under his breath.

‘THREE! TWO!…’

‘The king’s sister was married to his friend!’ Lief cried. ‘ That is how the pies were equally divided. There were only three people at dinner all the time!’

This time the counting broke off in howls of frustration. The head Granous scowled as the others began shouting at him, criticising his choice of questions.

Lief slumped back, pretending relief, and slid his half closed eyes in the direction of Jinks’ tree.

The acrobat had gone! The vines with which, he had been bound were lying loose on the ground. He must be even now creeping through the bushes behind Lief and Barda, dagger at the ready to cut their bonds.

Hurry, Jinks! thought Lief. The Granous were still arguing, paying no attention to the prisoners. Jinks would never have a better chance than this.

Barda drew a sharp, hissing breath. His eyes were fixed on a rocky hill that could just be seen over the trees on the other side of the clearing. Lief followed his gaze.

A small figure was scrambling up the hill. Jinks!

Far from remaining to save his companions, Jinks was running away as fast as he could.

One of the Granous suddenly screeched and pointed. ‘Prisoner escaped!’ it howled. Instantly the whole group plunged off into the bushes, following the acrobat’s scent.

‘I hope they catch him, the vile little worm!’ muttered Barda, struggling violently against the vines that bound him. ‘How could he leave us here?’

A vine weaver bird flew down from the tree above Barda and perched on the log to which his right hand was tied. It put its head on one side, and regarded him with a sharp black eye.

It nodded as if satisfied. Then it hopped onto his wrist and began pecking at the knotted vine.

‘Lief!’ Barda whispered in astonishment. ‘Look!’

The knots were loosening! The bird’s long, expert beak was doing what all Barda’s strength could not.

In moments, his right hand was free. The bird began working on the knots that bound him to the tree while he sliced through his other bonds with his sword.

He scrambled stiffly to his feet, and staggered over to cut Lief loose. Then, with the vine weaver swooping ahead of them, they both stumbled out of the clearing and into the undergrowth.

The bird darted on, plainly expecting them to follow. Even when the ground began to climb steeply it did not slow, whistling impatiently whenever they paused for breath.

At last they reached the top of the hill and slumped to the ground, panting. The air was filled with bird calls, and when Lief raised his head he saw why.

Not far below them was a thick mass of treetops, ringed by the peaks of other grey hills. Birds in their thousands were busily weaving their nets or feeding on the yellow berries that covered the trees.

Lief and Barda’s guide darted around their heads, calling urgently.

It is foolish to think that the bird is leading us to Jasmine, Lief told himself as they followed it down to ground level. Jasmine is searching for a valley, not a high-ground forest.

But hope still flickered as he followed Barda into the trees, his feet sinking deep into the thick carpet of rotting leaves that covered the forest floor.

Then he saw, just ahead, dozens of birds swooping around a small bush which was thrashing violently from side to side for no apparent reason. The vine weaver sped towards the place.

And there, her chain caught around the bush, was Fury.

She was living up to her name—twisting and lunging, her huge fangs snapping. Her trailing chain had become tangled around the bush, and was holding her fast.

Lief swallowed his disappointment. The vine weaver, it seemed, thought one good turn deserved another. It had freed them. Now it wanted them to remove this unwelcome visitor from its forest.

In moments Barda had untangled the chain. The instant Fury felt it loosening she made a wild dash foward, almost jerking him off his feet. Lief felt hope flare all over again.

‘She is still following a scent!’ he shouted over the excited shrilling of the birds. ‘Glock’s spider must have passed this way!’

With a call of thanks to their relieved vine weaver guide, they plunged after Fury into the trees.

As they moved deeper into the forest it grew darker and more silent. The only living creatures to be seen were fat, gold-coloured moths that blundered about in the dimness like stray scraps of sunlight.

For a long time, Fury did not pause. Then, abruptly, she stopped. She rose up on her back legs, her fangs clicking together, her front legs frozen in the air.

‘What is she doing?’ Lief whispered.

He and Barda moved cautiously forward. Several of the big yellow moths were fluttering close to the ground just beyond where Fury was poised.

‘She must be hungry,’ said Barda.

Fury lowered her front legs once more and began creeping towards the moths. She had almost reached them when Lief noticed something odd.

There were more moths than before. Yet he had not seen any new ones fly down to join the crowd.

Then he realised what was happening. The moths were fluttering around a hole in the ground. And more moths were rising out of the hole every moment.

‘They must lay their eggs down there,’ murmured Barda. He shouted in annoyance as Fury suddenly jumped forward and scuttled into the hole, disappearing deep inside.

The moths scattered, bumbling out of the way. Barda tugged vainly at the spider’s chain, cursing it and ordering it to come back. But Lief’s heart was thumping as he threw himself to the ground, scraped the disguising piles of leaves away from the sides of the hole and peered into its depths.

When he looked up his eyes were shining.

‘Barda!’ he exclaimed. ‘Barda—you are not going to believe this!’

And without another word, he swung his legs into the hole, and followed Fury.

12 - Mysteries

Barda bent over the hole, roaring furiously. But Lief, rapidly disappearing into the gloom, merely shouted to him to follow. Fury plainly had no intention of returning to ground level either. The chain around Barda’s wrist was pulling violently.

There was only one thing to do. Barda scrambled into the hole himself, cursing under his breath. What was the boy doing? What had he seen in this foul burrow?

Dirt and rotted leaves showered his face as he lowered himself through the earth, clinging to the tree roots that netted the sides of the hole. His feet scrabbled for footholds. His hands ached. When he looked up, he could see only a faint glimmer of light.

‘Take care!’ Lief’s muffled voice floated upwards.

‘You are a fine one to speak of taking care!’ Barda shouted back.

A moment later, his feet broke into open space. He kicked out wildly, searching for a foothold. Something grabbed his ankles, and he yelled.

‘I have you!’ Lief called. ‘Wait!’

With relief, Barda felt his feet guided to a firm surface. Slowly he lowered himself out of the tunnel.