Emily Rodda - The Lake of Tears

Soldeen reared back, choking for breath, shaking his great head from side to side. His tail lashed, churning the water to muddy foam. The sword flew out of his neck, turned in the air, and speared into the mud by Lief’s foot.

Lief grasped it, sprang to his feet, and ran, ran for his life, shrieking for his companions to follow. He knew they had only moments to escape. Soldeen would swallow the bags, or cough them up, in no time.

Only when he reached the rocks did he look back. Barda was clambering up beside him with Manus in his arms. Jasmine, Filli, and Kree were close behind.

And Soldeen was sliding back into the Lake of Tears. He was sliding back into the murky depths, and disappearing from sight.

Darkness came. They stayed upon the rocks, unwilling to move away from the Lake, though fearing another attack from the dark water at any moment.

Jasmine’s supplies were gone, and Barda’s also, for by chance it was their packs that Lief had thrown at Soldeen. The four companions huddled miserably together, sharing the blankets that remained and a damp meal that tasted of mud and worms. Slitherings, squelchings, and the sound of dripping water from the weeping rock set their nerves on edge.

As the full moon rose, flooding the Lake with its ghostly light, they tried to talk, to plan, to decide what they should do. If a gem was somewhere in the mud beneath that murky water, how could it ever be found?

They could return to Raladin for the proper tools and try to drain the Lake. But the work would take months, and none of them really believed that they would survive to complete it. Soldeen, the creatures of the mud, and Thaegan herself would see to that.

Two of them could try to lure Soldeen to the water’s edge at one side of the Lake, while the other two dived for the gem on the other side. But in their hearts they all knew that such a scheme was doomed to failure. Soldeen would feel the movement in his waters, turn, and attack.

Gradually, as the hours crept by, they fell silent. Their cause seemed hopeless. The heavy sadness of the place had seeped into their very souls.

Remembering that the topaz was at its strongest at full moon, Lief put his hand upon it. Hope swelled in him as his mind cleared. But no great idea or wonderful knowledge came into his mind — only one fixed thought. They must at all costs fight this sadness. They must fight the feeling that they could never win, or defeat was certain.

They needed something that would lift them from their despair. Something to give them hope.

He turned to the Ralad man, who was sitting with his head bowed, his hands clasped between his knees.

“Play your flute, Manus,” he begged. “Make us think of times and places other than this.”

Manus looked at him in surprise, then fumbled in his bag and brought out the wooden flute. He hesitated for a moment, then put it to his lips and began to play.

Music rose in lilting waves, filling the dead air with beauty. The flute spoke of crystal-clear water trickling in cool shade, of birds singing in leafy green, of children playing and friends laughing, of flowers lifting their faces to the sun.

Lief felt as if a deadening weight was falling from his shoulders. He saw in the faces of Barda and Jasmine, and even in Manus himself, a dawning hope. Now they remembered what they were fighting for.

He closed his eyes, the better to feel the music. So he did not see the trail of bubbles breaking sluggishly on the surface of the Lake as something surged silently towards the shore.

But then, suddenly, the music stopped. Lief opened his eyes and looked in surprise at Manus. The Ralad man was rigid, the flute still held to his lips. His eyes, wide and glazed with fear, were staring straight ahead. Slowly, Lief turned to see what he was looking at.

It was Soldeen.

Muddy water poured from his back and slime dripped from the holes and lumps in his mottled skin as he slid onto the shore, forcing a great trough in the ooze. He was huge — far larger than they had realized. If he lunged for them now, he could reach them. He could crush them all with one snap of his terrible jaws.

And yet he did not attack. He watched them, waiting.

“Back!” Barda muttered under his breath. “Back away. Slowly …”

“DO NOT MOVE!” the hollow, growling command lashed out at them, freezing them to the spot.

Shocked, terrified, and confused, they stared, unable to believe that it was the monster who had spoken. And yet already he was turning his burning eyes to the trembling Manus, and was speaking again.

“PLAY!” he ordered.

Manus forced his lips and fingers to move. At last, the music began again, hesitating and feeble at first, but gaining in strength.

Soldeen closed his eyes. He was utterly still, poised half in and half out of the water. Like a hideous statue he faced them, while mingled mud and slime slowly dried on his skin in lumpy streaks.

Lief felt a light touch on his leg. Manus was nudging him with his foot, making signals with his eyes. This is your chance to escape , Manus’s eyes were saying. Climb up the rocks, move back through the pass, while he is distracted.

Lief hesitated. Jasmine jerked her head at him impatiently. Go! her frown told him. You have the Belt. You, at least, must survive, or all is lost.

But it was too late. Soldeen’s eyes had opened once more, and this time they were fixed on Lief.

“Why have you come to this forbidden place?” he growled.

Lief wet his lips. What should he say?

“Do not try to lie,” Soldeen warned. “For I will know if you do, and I will kill you.”

The music of the flute fluttered and stopped as if Manus had suddenly lost his breath.

“PLAY!” roared Soldeen, without moving his gaze from Lief. Tremblingly, the Ralad man obeyed.

Lief made his decision. He lifted his chin. “We have come to seek a certain stone, which has special meaning for us,” he said clearly, over the soft, wavering sound of the flute. “It was dropped from the sky, into this Lake, over sixteen years ago.”

“I know nothing of time,” hissed the beast. “But … I know of the stone. I knew that one day someone would seek it.”

Lief forced himself to continue, though his throat seemed choked. “Do you know where it is?” he asked.

“It is in my keeping,” growled Soldeen. “It is my prize — the only thing in this bitter and lonely place that comforts me in my misery. Do you think that I would let you take it, with nothing in return?”

“Name your price!” called Barda. “If it is within our power, we will pay it. We will go from here and find whatever —”

Soldeen hissed, and seemed to smile. “There is no need for you to search for my price,” he said softly. “I will give you the stone in return for — a companion.” He turned his great head to look at Manus.

Lief felt a chill run through him. He swallowed.

“We cannot —” he began.

“Give the little man to me,” hissed Soldeen. “I like his face, and the music he makes. He will come into the Lake with me and sit upon the weeping stone. He will play to me through the endless days, the lonely nights. He will ease my pain, for as long as he lives.”

Lief heard Jasmine draw a sharp breath and looked around. Manus had risen, and was stepping forward.

“No, Manus!” cried Barda, catching his arm.

Manus was very pale, but his head was high. He strained against Barda’s grip.

“He wishes to join me,” hissed Soldeen. “Let him come.”