Emily Rodda - Deltora Quest #8 - Return to Deltora

“We had been expecting something of the sort,” Lief’s mother had added. “But the confusion was worse than even we had imagined. It took a long time for life in Del to begin again. When it did, we were ready. And so grateful — because we were safe, and so were you, my son, for by that time you had been born, and were the light of our lives. But …” Her strong voice trembled. “But we feared for those who had fled.”

Those who had fled.

Unrecognized in their humble working clothes, Endon and Sharn would have lost themselves in the panicking crowd. They would have hurried along with others moving west, suffering who knew what terrors. Then, when the blackbird carrying Tora’s message reached them, they would have realized that there was no point in continuing.

What would they have done then? Moved off the road. Found a place to hide. Endon knew the Belt would never again shine for him. Deltora’s only hope lay with his child. He and Sharn had to find a place where the baby could be born in safety. Where?

Lief was roused by Jasmine’s sharp voice. “Lief! We must go, so we can find a place to stop for the night.”

Lief turned to the caravan. But his thoughts still dwelled on a time before he was born, and on two desperate people he had never known, searching for refuge.

Rain threatened as they set off the next day. The companions cared nothing for that, cheered by Steven’s assurance that they would reach Withick Mire before sunset. But they had not gone far before his voice reached them with bad news.

Be prepared for flight or fight.

Ol-io, Ol-io!

Gripper field lies to the right,

Ahead are Guard-ios.

“What is a gripper field?” whispered Jasmine, as the caravan jerked to a stop.

“It cannot be worse than Grey Guards, in any case,” growled Barda. “And Guards, it seems, are ahead.”

The caravan doors were thrown open, and Steven looked in.

“The road is blocked,” he hissed. “The Guards must be searching all carts that pass.” He heaved a barrel from a corner as Lief, Barda, and Jasmine scrambled out onto the road. They were hidden from the Guards because the caravan had stopped in the middle of a bend. But once it moved on …

Lief looked quickly for a way of escape. On one side was sheer, high rock. On the other was a field, bordered by thickly wooded hills.

“Make for the hills,” muttered Steven. “With luck, the Guards will not notice you. We will meet further on. Take care. The stones are hard to —”

He broke off as a hoarse shout came from the road ahead. He slammed the doors and moved to the front of the caravan, carrying the barrel. “I am coming, sirs,” he called. “With ale, for your pleasure.”

The companions heard him climb onto the driver’s seat. Then the caravan began to move.

Kree soared towards the hills. Lief, Barda, and Jasmine rolled into the ditch that edged the road.

“I see no sign of grippers, whatever they may be,” Barda whispered, scanning the field.

Indeed, the field appeared quite empty. The only unusual thing about it was its bright green color, caused by a multitude of large, flat weeds. Like round mats made up of circles of broad leaves, the weeds pressed closely together, almost choking out the grass.

Lief glanced along the road. The caravan had almost reached the Guards. There were ten — a whole pod. The road was blocked by fallen trees. Heaps of rubbish, empty barrels, and boxes lay everywhere. Plainly, the Guards had been on duty here for months.

They will be bored, eager for entertainment, Lief thought, his heart sinking.

“And what do we have here?” one of the Guards shouted. “A big, ugly tick with a horse to match!” There was a gale of laughter as his brothers gathered around the caravan, their eyes fixed on Steven.

“Now!” hissed Barda.

Keeping together under the shelter of Lief’s cloak, the companions began scrambling forward. But almost at once Barda staggered, with a muffled cry of pain. At the same moment, Jasmine gasped and fell to her knees.

Lief whirled around, crouching to help them. But when he put down his left hand to brace himself, the ground gave way beneath it, and his hand was dragged down by something that bit and burned.

His hand had sunk into the center of one of the flat weeds. The center was widening, sucking at his arm, drawing it down …

Wildly, Lief tore himself free. His hand was covered in blood. The center of the plant gaped like a huge, flabby-lipped mouth, flecked with red. With horror, Lief looked down at the rows of vicious teeth lining the green throat that plunged deep into the earth.

The plants! Grippers! Steven thought we knew …

Beside him, Jasmine struggled to free her trapped leg as Filli squealed in terror, trying vainly to help her, and Kree flew back to her side. Barda floundered in agony behind them, both legs caught and sinking.

Lief seized Jasmine’s arms and heaved. Her leg came free dripping blood, and all around her grippers opened their hideous mouths wide. Cheers rang out from the road, and for a moment Lief thought they had been seen. But when he looked, he saw that the Guards had their backs to the field. They were gathered around the barrel, filling their mugs.

“Barda!” choked Jasmine. Barda was pinned to the ground. All four of his limbs were trapped, now. His neck strained as he fought to hold his face away from a pulsing, greedy green mouth gaping just below it. Every moment he sank deeper, deeper …

Why am I not sinking? thought Lief. He looked down. He was standing on a patch of pale grass. Then he realized that the grass was covering a flat stone. Steven had begun to say something about stones …

The stones are hard to — to see!

With a moan of frustration Lief saw pale patches making a line through the field. Stepping stones! A path that would always be safe because, though grass could overgrow a stone, grippers could only grow in deep earth.

He and Jasmine were standing on stones right now. Barda lay in a seething mass of bright green. But the line of stones snaked beside him.

“Jasmine! The pale patches are safe!” Lief hissed. “Move back along them!” As she sprang to obey, he snatched his rope from his belt and followed.

When he reached her, Jasmine was stabbing viciously at the grippers holding Barda. The plants were quivering and recoiling a little. Lief pushed the end of the rope under Barda’s chest. Then, leaning over perilously, he pulled it through on the other side and knotted it, pulling it tight under the big man’s arms.

“Help me, Barda!” he gasped, pulling with all his might. And Barda, making a final, anguished effort, groaned and arched his body.

His arms came free. The sleeves of his jacket were torn to ribbons, soaked with blood. The greedy mouths beneath him yawned wide.

Her teeth bared in disgust, Jasmine began attacking the leaves around Barda’s trapped legs. Again Lief heaved on the rope. This time Barda could help little. Blood flowed freely from his torn flesh, and he had almost lost consciousness. But at last, with agonizing slowness, his legs began to ease out of the ground, till he was free.

Jasmine and Lief rolled him onto the stepping stones and began half carrying, half dragging him towards the hills.

The noise from the road rose to a gleeful roar. The Guards had thought of a new entertainment. Five of them were holding Steven at dagger’s point. The other five were pulling the horse towards the gripper field. The creature, sensing its danger, was rearing and plunging, screaming in terror.