Emily Rodda - Deltora Quest #5 - Dread Mountain

“Which way?” whispered Lief.

“There is no way of telling which path is safest,” growled Barda. “But I think we should take the one that goes straight ahead. It has a higher ceiling than the others. If we take either of the other two, I will have to crawl.”

They moved on. Still there was utter silence. They saw that just ahead the tunnel once again took a sharp right turn.

“Perhaps, after all, the gnomes think we are in the pit,” said Jasmine in a low voice, as they moved around the corner into dimmer light.

“Perhaps,” Barda answered grimly. “But I would not depend upon it. I think —”

He broke off and halted abruptly. There were some shadowy figures ahead, blocking their path. Barda and Lief raised their swords. An answering glint showed that their opponents were also armed, and by their shape carried shields also.

“Dread Gnomes, we come in peace,” Barda called. “We ask only that you listen to what we have to say. We will put down our weapons if you also will disarm.”

There was no answering call, and no movement except for the gleam of steel.

“We must not let them think we are afraid,” Jasmine whispered, and slowly the companions began to move forward again. The figures moved also, coming to meet them, matching them stride for stride.

“Why do you not answer?” Barda called again. “Do you want to fight? If so, we are ready and willing.” He quickened his pace. Lief and Jasmine strode after him. Shuffling behind them, trying to keep up, Prin gave a muffled whimper of fear.

In moments the figures were almost upon them, still shadowy, but looming large. They are much bigger than we expected. And there are four of them, Lief thought, tightening his grip on his sword.

Hand-to-hand combat. He had not expected this. But he was ready. He lifted his shield. One of his opponents did the same. And suddenly, suddenly Lief saw …

“Barda, it is a mirror! A mirror fixed to a wall!” he shouted. “This tunnel is a dead end!” A chill ran through his body as he heard a clicking sound behind him. He spun around, stumbling over Prin, trying to push past her, trying to get to the metal door that was sliding from the roof of the tunnel at her back.

But it was too late. By the time he reached it, the metal door was sealed shut. They were trapped. They were locked in an airless cell. A cell as escape-proof as a tomb.

Hours later, they stood huddled together in thick darkness. They had put out the torch that was fixed to the wall. It was burning air they could not afford to lose.

“There must be a way out,” Lief insisted. “There must!” He was swaying with weariness.

“The gnomes will come, surely,” muttered Barda. “To jeer at us, if for no other reason. For what is the point of a joke no one laughs at? That will be our chance, for if they can get in, we can certainly get out.”

Jasmine nodded. “We must be ready for them. We must have a plan. But when will they come? And how? If only we knew!”

“If we were at home, we could dream them,” said a small voice behind them.

They all turned. They had almost forgotten about Prin. She crouched in a corner, her eyes enormous with fear, her paws clasped tightly in front of her.

“If we were at home with my tribe, we could drink the spring water, and remember the gnomes, and dream of them, wherever they are,” she repeated softly. “We have seen them. Seen their faces …” Her voice trailed away and she began shivering all over. She heard Lief exclaim, and covered her face in shame.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I have never been in walls before. I do not like it.”

Filli chattered anxiously. Jasmine moved to Prin’s side and put her arm around her. “Do not be ashamed,” she murmured. “I too fear being locked up. I fear it more than anything.”

“You are very tired, little Kin,” said Barda, with rough gentleness. “Lie down and sleep now. You can dream even without the spring water.”

“But with it, how much more useful the dreams will be!” Lief burst out. As they all glanced at him curiously he grinned and held up his water bottle. “Do you not remember? I confess that I did not, until Prin reminded me just now. We have drunk from streams ever since we left the Kin. Our bottles are still full — with water from the Dreaming Spring!”

Out of the mists of Lief’s sleep, the dream slowly came into focus. Flickering light, dancing colors, a dull murmuring, the shuffling of many feet, clinking, chinking sounds … And one huge voice, terrifyingly loud, shockingly harsh, echoing, echoing … “MORE! GIVE ME MORE!”

Lief opened his eyes fully, stared, revolted, at the nightmare before him, and staggered back to press himself against the rocky wall. I am dreaming, he reminded himself wildly. Dreaming! I am here only in spirit. It cannot see me!

But still his heart thudded and his stomach churned. Whatever he had expected when he lay down to sleep, it was not this!

He had expected to see a cavern, though not so huge. The roof of this enormous space soared, surely, to the top of the Mountain.

He had expected to see treasure, though not in such great quantities. Great, glittering mounds of gold and jewels filled the cavern from wall to wall, rising into hills and dropping into valleys like the dunes of the Shifting Sands.

He had expected to see the gnomes he had seen on the mountaintop, though he had not thought to see them crawling, scuttling, shrinking, and afraid.

But the giant mass of lumpy, oozing flesh that squatted in the center of the cavern, its wicked eyes glazed with greed, its slimy clawed feet spread carelessly over tumbled gems and heaps of gold — this was something he had not expected. Not in his wildest imaginings.

It was a vast, toadlike beast. The hidden horror of Dread Mountain.

Gnomes crawled around the giant, collecting in great glass jars the slime that dripped from its skin like thick, oily drops of sweat. They all wore gloves and kept well away from the oozing drops, handling the jars with care.

The slime must be poisonous, thought Lief. Then, with a jolt, he realized that here must be the source of the venom that made the gnomes’ arrows deadly.

As he watched, two other gnomes scuttled forward, bent under the weight of a huge golden bowl heaped high with what looked like black, glistening berries.

They knelt before the toad, heads bowed. Its long red tongue snaked out and curled in the black mass, scooping up a quarter of the contents of the bowl. As it lifted the feast to its huge mouth, scattering fragments carelessly over the gnomes and the treasure at its feet, Lief’s stomach heaved. The food was not berries, but flies. Thousands — tens of thousands — of fat, dead flies.

In moments the bowl was empty. The toad gave a rasping growl of anger. “MORE! QUICKLY!” it roared.

The two kneeling gnomes cowered, glancing at each other fearfully. “Your pardon, great Gellick,” faltered the one on the left, a wizened old man in a tattered brown jacket. “But — it may take some time to collect more from the breeding caves. The ready supplies are gone.”

“WHAT? GONE? WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?” grated the toad.

The old gnome was trembling all over, but finally forced himself to speak. “It is just that you have eaten rather more today than usual, great Gellick,” he quavered. “We were not prepared. We —”

His words were choked by a shriek as the toad spat at him without warning. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony. His terrified companion, wailing in grief and terror, dropped facedown beside him, clasping him in her arms as he died.