Emily Rodda - Deltora Quest #8 - Return to Deltora

But there was no reply.

Someone lit a torch, using the coals of the fire. Glock. Lief caught a glimpse of his brutish face, weirdly lit by flickering light. Glock had a great bruise on his forehead. One of his eyes was swelling and darkening. But still he held the torch high, sweeping it from side to side so that great shadows leaped around the walls.

Lief saw Ailsa, curled on the floor like a great stone; Gla-Thon, staggering from among the remains of the table that had held the belt; Doom, his face smeared with blood; Zeean clutching Manus for support; Jasmine murmuring to Filli. The door was torn from its hinges. The opening was blocked by a mass of collapsed wood and rubble …

And Dain was gone. His dagger was lying on the floor where he had dropped it. Dazed, Lief walked over to it. Then he bent and picked it up. The tip of the blade was stained with blood. Dain had tried to fight his attacker. But he had stood no chance.

Sliding the dagger into his belt, Lief thought of the moment he had hesitated before handing over the Belt of Deltora. Perhaps if he had not given in to that feeling of reluctance — if he had passed the Belt to Dain at once — none of this would have happened. Dain would have been safe. They would all have been safe.

Sick with pain and guilt, he looked down at his hands, and his stomach lurched as he realized he was no longer holding the Belt. He looked around wildly, then realized that, of course, he must have dropped it on Barda’s chest when he fell against the bed. It was safe there, covered in blankets. He would get it in a moment. When his head had stopped spinning. When he could breathe properly again. When this sickness passed.

He slid to the ground and crouched there, like a wounded animal.

“Dain has been taken!” Fardeep was whispering.

“It was a creature of darkness that did the deed,” snarled Glock. “I saw it, as it burst in. A wolf — huge — with a yellow mouth. Then, it changed to a fiend. Even larger. And slimy red, like blood!”

A terrible thought came to Lief’s mind. He wet his lips, afraid to put it into words.

Glock’s eyes narrowed. He pointed a stubby finger at Lief. “You know something!” he growled. “I see it in your face. What was this thing?”

The words caught in Lief’s throat as he spoke. “It sounds — like …”

“Like the last and most wicked of all the sorceress Thaegan’s children,” Doom finished for him. “The only one of that foul brood that still prowls the northeast. Ichabod.”

“We have been betrayed,” hissed Gla-Thon.

Glock bared his teeth and glared around the room. His eyes fixed on Manus. “You came from the northeast, Ralad man,” he snarled, clenching his fists. “You led the monster here! Admit it!”

Quaking, too shocked and afraid to speak, Manus shook his head. Nanion of D’Or moved to stand beside him. “If we were followed, we were unaware of it,” he said sternly. “Keep your insults to yourself, Jalis.”

“Do … not … fight.” The words were soft, mumbled. But they broke the angry silence like a shout. For it was Barda who had spoken — Barda, struggling to sit up, to look around him. Jasmine shrieked piercingly and flew to his side, her hair wildly tangled, her small face pale in the glow of the lantern she had coaxed to life.

“Fighting … will profit us nothing!” Barda said, his voice growing stronger.

“It is a miracle!” Zeean breathed, staring.

It is the Belt, Lief thought. The Belt. It must be.

But already Doom was striding towards the door. “We must dig our way out of this place and give chase,” he snapped. “Every moment we delay means that Dain is closer to death!”

“He is dead already,” Glock growled. “The monster will by now have torn him limb from limb.”

Doom’s head jerked up, as though he had just remembered something. “Where is Steven?” he asked sharply.

In the silence that followed, they heard a faint sound. A scratching sound, coming from the rubble that blocked the doorway.

“Steven!” Doom shouted.

“Yes!” a voice answered weakly. “I am here. Trapped. The building collapsed upon us as we tried to give chase. Even Nevets could not free us. Doom — it was Ichabod. Ichabod has Dain!”

“We thought as much,” said Doom grimly.

“I could see nothing, but I could hear him laughing as he ran away,” the faint voice called. “Laughing at Dain. He was saying — that if Dain was king, it was only right that he take him to where the king belonged. To Del.”

Had Ichabod been under orders to capture the heir? Or had it been his own idea to snatch Dain? There was no way of knowing. But of one thing Lief could be sure. He and his companions had done exactly what they had sworn not to do. They had led the Shadow Lord to the heir.

And another thing is certain, Lief thought, as he and the others dug their way out of the shelter that had become their prison. If Dain is being taken to Del, we must follow — alone, if necessary.

But there was no doubt in anyone’s mind. The seven tribes would remain united. At dawn, a party left for Del, Ailsa farewelling them tearfully. Doom had made his plans without delay.

“We will travel in small groups, far enough away from one another not to be seen,” he said. “This is our best chance of reaching Del unnoticed.”

“We will not reach it unnoticed if there is a spy within our ranks,” muttered Gla-Thon.

Doom’s face hardened. “No one is to be left alone for an instant, except for Steven, who will drive the caravan,” he snapped. “Does anyone wish to question Steven’s loyalty?”

Not surprisingly, no one dared do that.

The caravan went first, with Barda hidden inside. He was still weak, but he had refused to be left behind. On the right flank moved Manus and Nanion. On the left flank were Gla-Thon and Fardeep. Bringing up the rear were Doom, Zeean, and Glock. And in the center walked Lief and Jasmine, with Filli and Kree.

Lief still carried Dain’s dagger. It had been precious to Dain. It would be returned to him — that, Lief had sworn. The point of its blade was deeply stained. No matter what Lief did, it would not come clean.

In the distance, Del-io,

Del-io, Del-io!

Two hours’ rest, then on we go,

To Del-i, el-io!

Steven’s voice sounded as jolly as if he really was just a simple pedlar. But his message was clear. He could see the outskirts of Del. He was stopping to rest.

“Why must we stop?” Jasmine muttered crossly.

Lief glanced at her. “Because it was agreed we would,” he murmured. “Because we want to arrive in Del after dark. And we are tired. You sleep first.”

They had been moving by the road’s edge, where thick bushes gave plenty of cover. Lief watched as Jasmine settled herself for rest. He knew she would be asleep in moments. That was her way, no matter how uncomfortable the place, or how dangerous the time.

He sat with his back to a tree and touched the Belt, once again fastened around his waist. The Belt had halted Barda’s slow drift towards death. But how? Surely none of the gems had the power to cure weakness due to blood loss. Perhaps the diamond …

Quietly, he drew out The Belt of Deltora and found the section on the powers of the diamond.

† Diamonds … give courage and strength, protect from pestilence, and help the cause of true love.

Still Lief was unsatisfied. Restlessly, he skimmed the pages, glancing at phrases here and there. A few he had forgotten. Most were very familiar to him.