Emily Rodda - The Lake of Tears

“Do you think Manus will still lead us to the Lake of Tears?” he asked.

“He will,” Barda murmured. “But not for a few days, I suspect. And that is good. It will force us to rest, and it is rest that we need, more than anything.” He stretched lazily. “I am going to sleep,” he announced. “It is still day, but who can tell down here?”

Lief nodded, but Jasmine made no reply. She was already asleep.

Soon afterwards, Manus turned away from the wall and went with his friends to the square in the middle of the cavern. All the Ralads seemed to be going there. Lazily, Lief wondered what they were doing, but in moments he understood.

Soft music filled the air — the sound of hundreds of flutes singing together of thankfulness, happiness, friends, and peace. The Ralads were celebrating the return of one they thought was lost. And Manus was among them, pouring into his own flute his heart’s joy.

Lief lay still and let the music wash over him in waves of sweetness. He felt his eyelids drooping and did not fight it. He knew that Barda was right. For the first time in days they could sleep peacefully, knowing they were safe from harm and surprise. They should take all the rest they could while they had the chance.

They passed three more days in Raladin. In that time they learned much about the Ralads and their life.

They learned, for example, that the little people did not stay below ground all the time. When it was safe, they spent their days outside. They tended the food gardens hidden nearby. They checked and repaired the pipes that brought air to the cavern and the alarms that alerted them when people approached the village. They taught the children to build and mend, and simply enjoyed the sunlight.

One thing they never did in the open was to play their music. They could not risk being heard. They played only underground, stopping immediately if the alarms warned them of intruders. It was a miracle that Manus had found the flute by the fountain. It had been lost and forgotten years ago, while the Ralads were still digging their hiding place in secret. It had lain in its place ever since, as if waiting for him.

On their fourth morning, the companions knew that it was time to leave. They were much stronger, well fed and well rested. Jasmine’s wound had almost healed. Their clothes were clean and dry, and the Ralads had given each of them a bag of supplies.

They climbed to the surface with heavy hearts. They had no further reason to stay, but none of them wanted to go. This time of safety and peace had made the task ahead of them seem even more grim and terrifying.

Now, at last, they told the Ralads where they planned to go. Manus had told them to keep this secret for as long as they could, and now they found out why.

The people were horrified. They clustered around the travelers, refusing to let them pass, clutching Manus with all their strength. Then they began scribbling on the ground so fast that even Barda could not understand what they had written.

“We know the Lake of Tears is bewitched and forbidden,” Lief told them. “We know we will face danger there. But we have faced danger before.”

The people shook their heads in despair at their foolishness. Again they began scribbling on the ground — many, many signs of wickedness and death, with one sign larger than any other and repeated many times.

“What does that mean? What is it they especially fear?” whispered Lief to Manus.

Manus grimaced and wrote a single, clear word in the dust.

Jasmine frowned. “What is Soldeen?” she asked. But Manus could not, or would not, explain.

“Whatever this Soldeen is, we must face it,” growled Barda. “As we must face Thaegan, if she pursues us.”

The Ralads drew together at the mention of Thaegan’s name. Their faces were very grave. Plainly, they thought the travelers did not understand their peril, and that meant that Manus was doomed to die with them, for he was determined to be their guide.

“Do not fear,” Lief said grimly. “We have weapons. If Thaegan tries her tricks on us, we will kill her!”

The people shook their heads and scribbled again. Barda bent, frowning over the lines.

“They say she cannot be killed,” he said at last, reluctantly. “The only way to kill a witch is to draw blood. And Thaegan’s whole body is armored by magic. Many have tried to pierce it. All have failed, and died.”

Lief glanced at Jasmine. Her eyes were fixed on Kree, who was flying high above them, stretching his wings.

Lief bit his lip and looked back at the Ralads. “Then we will hide from her,” he told them. “We will hide, we will creep, we will do everything we can to avoid her notice. But we must go to the Lake of Tears. We must.”

The tallest of the Ralads, a woman called Simone, stepped forward and scrawled on the ground.

“We cannot tell you why,” said Barda. “But please believe that we do not go into danger out of reckless foolishness. We are pledged to a quest that is for the good of Deltora and all its people.”

Simone looked at him keenly, then slowly nodded. And after that the Ralads stood aside and let the travelers walk down the narrow path that wound away from the village.

Manus led the way, his head high. He did not look back, but Lief did.

The people were standing very still, crowded together, watching them. Their hands were pressed to their hearts. And they did not move until the travelers were out of sight.

By mid-afternoon the way had grown rough and the hills more rugged. Dead trees held bleached, white branches up to the pale sky. The grass crackled under the travelers’ feet, and the low-growing bushes were dusty and dry.

There were scuttlings in the bushes, and rustlings in dark holes beneath the tree roots, but they saw no living creature. The air was heavy and still, and it seemed hard to breathe. They stopped for food and water, but sat only for a short time before moving on. The scuttling sounds were not pleasant, and they had the feeling that they were being watched.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, Manus began to walk more and more slowly, his feet dragging as though he was forcing them to move. His companions trudged behind him in single file, watching the ground which had become treacherous, filled with cracks and holes and littered with stones. They all knew, without being told, that they were nearing the end of their journey.

Finally, they came upon a place where the bases of two steep, rocky hills met, making a narrow “V” shape. Through the gap they could see the red-stained sky and the fiery ball of the setting sun, glowing like a danger sign.

The Ralad man stumbled to a stop and leaned against one of the rocks. His skin was as grey as dust, his small black eyes were blank with fear.

“Manus, is the Lake —” Lief had not spoken for so long that his voice sounded like a croak. He swallowed, and began again. “Is the Lake just beyond these rocks?”

Manus nodded.

“Then there is no need for you to come any farther,” said Barda. “You have guided us here, and that is all we ask of you. Go home now to your friends. They will be waiting anxiously for your return.”