Emily Rodda - Deltora Quest #1 - The Forests of Silence

Hardly able to believe his luck, Lief turned to run. Then, with a shock, he felt something hit his shoulder. To his amazement he saw that it was a rope — a rope dangling from the top of the wall. Who had thrown it?

There was no time to think or wonder. In seconds, he was climbing for his life. He did not pause for breath until he had reached the top of the wall and swung himself into a great tree on the other side. Panting, he huddled in a fork between two branches and looked around him.

He was alone. The rope had been tied securely around the tree’s trunk, but there was no sign of whoever had thrown it over the wall.

The Guards had still not come back into view, but Lief could hear them nearby, arguing as they searched for whatever had made the sound they had heard. He was fairly certain that they would find nothing. He was sure that the person who had thrown the rope had also hurled a stone to distract them. That was what he himself would have done if he had been trying to save a friend.

A friend? Lief bit his lip as he swiftly pulled the rope up after him. As far as he knew, all his friends were safely in their homes. Who could have known that he was in trouble?

He puzzled about it for a moment, then shook his head. This is not important now, he told himself. The important thing is to reach home before anything else happens.

He untied the rope, coiled it, and slung it over his shoulder. Ropes such as these were valuable.

He climbed silently to the ground and strained his eyes to see through the darkness. Slowly he recognized the shape nearest to him. It was an old potter’s wheel, broken and lying on its side in the grass.

With a chill he realized that he was in the backyard of what had been the city’s biggest pottery. A thousand times he had walked past its burned-out shell, its gaping front windows, and its door branded with the Shadow Lord’s sign.

The brand meant that the Shadow Lord’s hand had been laid upon the pottery. Now it was a dead place, never again to be used, or even entered. There were many such buildings, and many such signs, in this part of the city. A group here had tried to resist the Shadow Lord. They had plotted to overthrow him. But he had found out, as he found out all such secrets.

Lief threaded his way through the huge piles of smashed pots, overgrown with weeds. He passed the two great ovens where the pots had been baked, now just ruined heaps of bricks. He nearly tripped on something buried in the grass — a child’s wooden horse, crushed under the foot of a Grey Guard long ago.

By the time he reached the front of the building he was trembling and breathing hard. Not with fear now, but with a sudden, terrible anger.

Why should his people suffer this? Why should he have to creep around in his own city like a criminal, in fear of branding, imprisonment, or death?

He moved out onto the deserted road and looked up at the palace on the hill, sick with loathing. For as long as he could remember the palace had been the headquarters of the Shadow Lord. Before that, his friends had told him, the king of Deltora had lived there, in luxury, and the palace was almost hidden by a pale, shimmering mist. But when the Shadow Lord came, the mist completely disappeared. Now the palace could be seen clearly.

Though Lief’s parents had made him study the history of Deltora from its earliest days, they had told him little of the time just before he was born. They seemed to fear speaking of it. They said the Shadow Lord had spies everywhere, and it was best to keep silence. But Lief’s friends were not afraid, and they had told him a great deal.

They had told him that the last king, like the rulers before him, had cared nothing for the people, and done nothing to serve them. King Endon’s only task had been to guard the magic Belt of Deltora. But he had been weak, lazy, and careless. He had allowed the Belt to be stolen. He had opened the way to the Shadow Lord.

The king was dead, Lief’s friends said. And a good thing, too, Lief thought savagely, as again he hurried for home. The king deserved to die for the suffering he had brought to his people.

He reached the fields and began to run, crouching low, hiding himself in the long grass. A few minutes more and he would be safe. Already he could see the lights of home winking dimly in the distance.

He knew he would be in trouble for being so late and that there would be questions asked about the rope he carried. With luck, though, his mother and father would be so relieved to see him that they would forgive him quickly.

They cannot send me to bed without food, at least, Lief thought with satisfaction, scuttling across the road and plunging on towards the forge. They said they wanted to talk to me about something tonight.

Briefly he wondered what that something was, and smiled at the memory of how serious his parents had looked when they had spoken of it.

He loved them both very much, but no two people could be more ordinary, timid, and quiet than Jarred and Anna of the forge. Jarred had limped badly ever since he was injured by a falling tree when Lief was ten. But even before that, he and Anna had kept very much to themselves. They seemed content to listen to the tales of wandering travelers who stopped at the forge, rather than seeing life for themselves.

Lief had not been born until after the time of darkness and terror that had marked the coming of the Shadow Lord. But he knew that many in the city had fought and died and many others had fled in terror.

Jarred and Anna had done neither of these things. While all around them confusion and panic reigned, they stayed in their cottage, obeying every order given to them, doing nothing to attract the anger of the enemy. And when the panic was ended and dull misery had taken its place in the city, they reopened the forge gates and began work again, struggling only to survive in their new, ruined world.

It was something that Lief himself could never have done. He could not understand it. He was convinced that all his parents had ever wanted in their lives was to stay out of trouble, whatever the cost. He was certain, absolutely certain, that nothing they had to say could surprise him.

So it was only with relief that he ran through the forge gates, dodged the beggar Barda, who was making his slow way to his shelter in the corner of the yard, and rushed through the cottage door. Excuses were ready on his tongue and thoughts of dinner were filling his head.

Little did he know that before another hour had passed everything was going to change for him.

Little did he know that he was about to receive the shock of his life.

Stunned by what he had just heard, Lief stared at his father. It was as if he were seeing him with new eyes. “ You once lived in the palace? You were the king’s friend? You — I cannot believe this! I will not believe it!”

His father smiled grimly. “You must believe it, my son.” His fists clenched. “Why else do you think we have lived so quietly all these years, tamely obeying every order given to us, never rebelling? Many, many times I have been tempted to do otherwise. But I knew that we had to avoid drawing the enemy’s attention to us.”

“But — but why have you never told me before?” Lief stammered.

“We thought it best to keep silent until now, Lief.” It was his mother who had spoken. She stood by the fire looking at him gravely.

“It was so important, you see, that no word reached the ears of the Shadow Lord,” she went on. “And until you were ten your father believed that he himself would be the one who would go to seek the gems of Deltora, when the time came. But then —”