Emily Rodda - Deltora Quest #7 - The Valley of the Lost

“I am not a child!” Dain shouted furiously.

“No, it seems you are not. Perhaps …” Doom seemed to ponder. “Perhaps I was wrong.” His lips twitched. “It does not happen often. But it is possible. If I beg your pardon, will you come back to the stronghold with us? You are sorely missed.”

Dain hesitated, swaying uncertainly.

Barda, Lief, and Jasmine glanced at one another. In all their minds was the thought that many problems would be solved if Dain agreed to go with Doom. But they had to be sure he would be safe.

Lief stepped forward. “We have learned, since seeing you last, that it is not wise to trust appearances, Doom,” he said in a level voice. “Before Dain decides what he wishes to do we would like you, and Neridah, too, to go into Tora.”

Doom’s dark eyes turned on him. And now there was no warmth or humor in them.

“You need not stay more than a moment,” Lief went on, refusing to be cowed. “The Tora tunnel discovers evil far more quickly than your Testing Room.”

“So — you have discovered Tora’s secret!” sneered Doom. “Congratulations! But what if I refuse to agree to your request? What then?”

Neridah moved to stand beside Doom. Barda and Jasmine stepped into place beside Lief. The two sides glared at one another. Then Barda spoke.

“If you refuse to go into Tora, then we must assume that you are Ols, and act accordingly.”

Doom’s sword was in his hand in an instant.

“No!” shouted Dain, thrusting himself in front of Barda. “You must not fight! You are not enemies, but on the same side!”

Doom’s face did not change. “I am still not sure of that,” he said grimly.

“And neither are we, twice over!” Jasmine exclaimed. “For if you are really the man Doom, you have treated us badly and we do not trust you. And if you are an Ol in Doom’s shape, you are a danger to us all.”

Doom’s eyes flickered. Plainly, he could see the sense in Jasmine’s words. Yet still he did not lower his sword.

“How can it harm you to prove to us that you are what you seem?” Lief murmured, deliberately keeping his voice low and even.

“We do not have to prove anything to you!” Neridah cried angrily. “Doom and I have been together since we left the stronghold. We can swear —”

Doom put out a hand to quiet her. “What we swear proves nothing, Neridah,” he said. “Ols most often travel in pairs, do they not?”

Then, as if Neridah’s interruption had somehow helped him to make up his mind, he shrugged, sheathed his sword and began to stride towards the city’s shimmering light. Neridah, plainly surprised and angry, hesitated, glaring for a moment, then swung around and stalked after him.

The companions followed. When they reached the tunnel they waited as Doom and Neridah went on alone. Lief had been tempted to enter the tunnel, too, but somehow knew that this would not be wise. He could not afford all his passions to drain away at this moment. A little anger kept one alert. And one could not be too alert when dealing with one such as Doom.

So he stood and watched, and saw what he otherwise might not have seen. As the two figures walked through the tunnel, the air began to fill with colored sparks, swirling like dust motes lit by the sun.

“I saw nothing of that when we walked through,” breathed Jasmine. “I only — felt.”

“It must be invisible to those who are inside.” Barda rubbed his hand over his dazzled eyes and turned away.

In seconds Doom and Neridah had disappeared in a cloud of dancing light. But in only a few more moments they became visible again, walking slowly back the way they had come.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, both seemed dazed. Their faces were smooth and strangely still.

“So — you are satisfied now, I hope?” Doom said. But the words held no sting, and his eyes looked lost. Groaning, he sat down, his back against the city wall.

Neridah, Dain, and the others stared at him in confusion. Wearily, he looked up.

“When anger, hatred, and bitterness have left a man who lives by little else, what is there left for him but emptiness?” he asked with a slight smile. “That is why I do not enjoy visiting Tora. I have done so only once before — and that was enough.”

“Who are you, Doom?” asked Lief suddenly.

For a moment he thought the man would not answer. Then Doom’s shoulders slumped and his eyes closed, as though he did not have the strength to refuse.

“I do not know who I am,” he said. “I do not know what I have lost, along with my name. My memories begin in the Shadowlands. I was fighting a Vraal in the Shadow Arena. I was injured. Everything before that is darkness.”

His hand moved slowly to the jagged scar on his face.

“But you escaped?” Lief prompted. Perhaps it was cruel to use Doom’s present weakness to find out more about him. But it was a chance that would not come again.

“I escaped the Shadow Arena,” Doom went on. “They were not expecting that. They thought I was finished. I fled across the mountains, pursued and with no clear idea of anything save that Deltora was my home. On Dread Mountain I turned and faced my pursuers. I escaped once more, but it cost me dearly.”

He sighed deeply. “I travelled on, more dead than alive. At last I was found, given shelter, and healed by a good man.”

“A man who lived in a place called Kinrest,” murmured Jasmine.

Doom glanced at her, and again he smiled, though his eyes were filled with sadness. “So you have seen his grave, and know I took his name,” he said. “He saved me, but I brought death to him. The Grey Guards who had not died on the Mountain pursued me to his cave. Doom was a man of peace. He had no chance against them. But thanks to him I was strong once more. I killed them all, and scattered their bones.”

A touch of the old savagery was in his voice as he spoke those last words. Lief realized that the calming effect of the Toran tunnel was gradually wearing off. Doom was silent for a moment, and when next he smiled, it was merely a bitter tweak of the lips.

“You have taken advantage of me, I fear,” he said, climbing to his feet. “I hope your curiosity is satisfied.” His mouth was tightening, his eyes darkening. The grim, familiar mask was settling back onto his face.

“Doom, I knew you had been through much,” breathed Neridah. “But I had no idea …” Her voice trailed off as Doom shot her a cold look. Plainly he did not want her sympathy or her admiration. Her face reddened. Then she tossed her head angrily and moved away from them.

“I did not pry into your affairs out of simple curiosity, Doom,” said Lief in a low voice.

“No?” Doom looked into his eyes for a long moment. Then he turned to Dain. “I am due to meet Steven the peddler in a few days,” he said flatly. “He has new supplies for us. Will you come with me? Or do you choose to remain with your new friends?”

“There is no choice, Doom. Dain must go with you,” Barda said quickly. “We have a hard, long journey ahead of us.”

Dain’s sensitive skin flushed red. “I do not want to be a burden to anyone,” he said through stiff lips. “I will go with you, Doom, to meet Steven.”

Doom nodded shortly. Then, as though despite himself he resented having Dain so easily cast aside, he lifted one eyebrow. “And where are you travelling, that your journey is going to be so hard?” he demanded.

Even long afterwards, Lief did not know why he said what he did then. It was the impulse of a moment. Perhaps he felt the urge to give Doom some information, as a sign of trust. Or perhaps it was simply that he was tired of lies.