Emily Rodda - Deltora Quest #6 - The Maze of the Beast

“Oh, yes,” Barda answered with a grim smile. “And felt it, too — more than we would like. So this is where it ends.”

They reached the end of the bridge and began to move towards the village, which they could now see had suffered some terrible disaster. Many houses had been burned. Windows were shattered. Rubble and broken glass littered the narrow streets.

“Pirates,” Dain muttered.

There was a post sticking up from the ground ahead, and when they reached it they saw that it had once supported a sign. Now the sign lay on the ground, its edges broken, its brave lettering muddied.

“I have heard Doom speak of this place,” said Dain dully. “He said the people were brave and full of good heart. He wanted them to join us, so they would be safe. But they refused to abandon their village to the pirates. They said they would defend it with their last breath.”

“It seems they did so.” Barda’s voice was harsh with anger.

As Lief began to turn away, he saw that some scraps of thick yellow knitting wool had fallen on the bare ground along the board’s top edge. He crouched to pick them up — then snatched his hand back as he saw that they were arranged in a pattern.

“Barda! Jasmine has been here!” he exclaimed excitedly.” And perhaps she is here still. This is a message for us — a message no other person would notice. See? She has made the first letter of her name. And a picture of a bird for Kree. The other signs must tell us where she is sheltering.”

Barda considered the shapes on the ground. “The circle could be part of a building. But what is the 3?”

“A number on a door, perhaps!” Lief stood up and looked around, filled with new energy.

With Dain trailing behind them, they began to explore the village. It was a depressing task, and Lief’s excitement quickly died. Plainly, Where Waters Meet had once been a busy, thriving little town. Now, everywhere were the signs of violence and bloodshed. The tavern, the meeting hall, every house, every shop, had been ransacked. Everything of any value had been taken.

Some of the invaders had scrawled their names triumphantly on the walls of living rooms, bedrooms, and halls. “Nak” was one name that occurred again and again, twice in what looked like blood. But there were other names, too. “Finn” was one, “Milne” another.

Lief stared at the scrawlings with hatred. Nak, Finn, and Milne, he thought, I will remember your names. You are not Ols or Grey Guards, Shadow Lord’s servants, bred for evil. You are free to choose how you act. And you have chosen to prey upon your own people. You have chosen to steal, destroy, and murder. I hope that, one day, I meet you. Then I will make you pay.

With heavy hearts they finished searching. There was a circular courtyard, and some window frames in the shape of circles, too. But there were no numbers at all, and there was no sign of Jasmine.

Lief stopped outside the last house, which had a new moon carved into the door. “Moons are circles, when they are full,” he called to Barda. “Could Jasmine have meant —?”

Then he broke off, for he had at last realized the true meaning of Jasmine’s message. He shook his head, annoyed at his own slowness. “We have been wasting our time,” he exclaimed. “Jasmine is long gone. The signs tell us not where she is in Where Waters Meet, but when she was here. The circle is the full moon. Then there is a minus sign, and the num-ber 3. She was here yesterday — three days before full moon!”

“Of course!” Barda heaved a great sigh. “Then —”

Suddenly he looked alert, and put his finger to his lips, listening. Lief listened in his turn and heard the last thing he would have expected.

It was the jingling of many tiny bells, growing louder. And, even more astonishing, the merry, booming sound of someone singing.

Once there was an Ol-io,

Jolly-wolly Ol-io,

Once there was an Ol-io,

Fearsome as could be!

I said to that Ol-io,

Jolly-wolly Ol-io,

I said to that Ol-io,

You don’t bother me!

Ashabby caravan pulled by a fat old horse was trundling towards the village along the Broad River path. At first, Lief thought there were two figures sitting on the driver’s seat. But as the caravan drew closer he saw that he had been mistaken. There was only one — a huge golden-haired man with dark brown skin, singing his rather surprising song at the top of his voice.

Impulsively Lief moved forward. “Wait,” Barda muttered. “Looks and words can be deceiving.”

Lief nodded, and stayed where he was. But when he heard the man’s song falter as the caravan drew up to the ruined town sign, and saw the sorrow on the broad face, he was not willing to wait any longer.

The man’s mouth turned down as he saw the three emerge from the shadows. “Ah,” he said. “This is a bad business.” He climbed down from the caravan and looked around him, taking in the desolation. “But I am not surprised. Every year for many years we have come here on our rounds, and each time I have feared finding this very thing.”

He shook his head. “I warned them. I said to them, ‘Give it up, my friends. Move on! Life is precious!’ But they were so brave. So foolish …”

He rubbed a huge hand over his eyes.

“You speak of your rounds,” said Barda, who was still wary. “What rounds?”

The man looked up. “Why, I am a peddler, sir,” he said politely. “I sell, I buy, and I trade. Steven B is my name.” He gestured at the faded lettering on his cart.

To Lief’s surprise, there was a movement behind him and Dain stepped forward.

“Hello, Steven,” the boy said. “Do you not know me?”

The man’s face relaxed into a grin. “Young Dain!” he said. “I saw you there, but I was not sure you wished to be recognized in this company.”

“These are friends,” said Dain. “They are helping me on my way to Tora, Steven. I am going there at last.”

The grin faded. “These are bad tidings,” Steven said. “Why do you not stay where you are safe? This part of the country is not kind to travellers.”

“Yet you travel every day,” Lief pointed out.

Steven shrugged his massive shoulders. “I?” he said, as if that was another matter altogether. “Ah, yes. But I have protection.”

Lief stared. The man was unarmed, and seemed quite alone except for the old horse. He was big, certainly, but his pleasant, open face did not seem the face of a fighter. Quite the opposite.

“Steven’s brother, Nevets, always travels with him,” said Dain quickly, and, Lief thought, warningly.

Steven put his head on one side. “Would you like to meet Nevets?” he enquired.

“Oh, no. We would not dream of disturbing him,” Dain exclaimed, before Lief and Barda could say anything. “But, before you go, my friends and I would like to buy some goods for our journey, Steven.”

The man beamed. “A pleasure to serve you,” he said. He strode to the back of the caravan and threw open the doors. The space was fitted out as a tiny shop, crammed with clothes and household needs.