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

Lief stared, unable to believe what had happened so suddenly. The Belt grew hot against his skin. He looked down and saw Gorl’s sword, lying right in front of him. Almost absent-mindedly, he picked it up. The topaz in the hilt shone clear gold. So, he thought dreamily, the first gem to be found was the topaz — the symbol of faithfulness.

Suddenly his mind cleared. His eyes searched for, and then found, the still, pale figure of Barda, lying at the edge of the clearing. He jumped up and ran to him, kneeling down beside him, calling his name.

Barda did not stir. He still breathed, but very weakly. The terrible wound in his chest was still bleeding. Lief opened the jacket and shirt, tried to clean the wound, tried to stop the blood with his cloak. He had to do something. But he knew it was useless. It was too late.

He barely looked up as Jasmine leapt lightly down beside him. “Barda is dying,” he said drearily. There was a terrible pain in his chest. A terrible sense of loss and loneliness and waste.

“Lief!” he heard Jasmine gasp. But still he did not move.

“Lief! Look!” She was pulling at his arm. Reluctantly he raised his head.

Jasmine was staring at the center of the clearing. Her face was filled with awe. Lief spun around to see what she was looking at.

The Lilies of Life were blooming. The golden arrows that were their buds had opened in the sunlight so long denied them. Now they were golden trumpets, their petals spread joyously, drinking in the light. And from the center of the trumpets a rich gold nectar was welling, overflowing, pouring in a sweet-smelling stream down to the black mud.

With a cry, Lief threw down the sword and leapt up. He ran to the patch of mud and thrust his cupped hands under the nectar flow. When they were full to the brim he ran back to Barda, pouring the nectar onto the wound in his chest, smearing what was left on his pale lips.

Then he waited breathlessly. One minute passed. Two —

“Perhaps he has gone too far away already,” Jasmine murmured.

“Barda!” Lief begged. “Come back! Come back!”

The big man’s eyelids fluttered. His eyes opened. They were dazed, as though he had been dreaming. “What — is it?” he mumbled. As color began to steal back into his cheeks, his hand fumbled towards the wound on his chest. He licked his lips. “Hurts,” he said.

“But the cut is healing!” Jasmine hissed in wonder. “See? It is closing of itself! Never have I seen such a thing.”

Overjoyed, Lief saw that indeed the wound was repairing itself. Already it was just a raw, red scar. And as he watched the scar itself began to fade, till it was nothing but a thin white line.

“Barda! You are well!” he shouted.

“Of course I am!” With a grunt, Barda sat up, running his hands through his tangled hair. He stared around, astounded, but quite himself again. “What happened?” he demanded, climbing to his feet. “Did I faint? Where is Gorl?”

Lief pointed wordlessly at the crumpled armor beneath the fallen branch. Barda strode over to the branch, frowning.

“This is his armor,” he said, kicking at it. “But there is no body inside it.”

“I think Gorl’s body crumbled to dust long ago,” Lief said. “All that was left inside that armor shell was darkness and … will. But once the armor was destroyed, even that will could not survive. It could not survive in the light.”

Barda grimaced with distaste. He looked up. “So a tree branch fell and finished him,” he said. “That was a piece of luck.”

“It was not luck!” exclaimed Jasmine indignantly. “I told the tallest tree what must be done, and at last it listened. I promised that it and the others would be rid of the vines, if it did what I asked. The sacrifice of one limb was small in return for freedom.”

Barda’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, but Lief put a warning hand on his arm. “Believe me, what Jasmine says is true,” he said. “She saved both our lives.”

“ You saved Barda’s life.” Jasmine objected again. “The sun made the Lilies bloom, and —”

She broke off and turned quickly to look at the Lilies of Life. Lief looked, too, and saw that already they were fading. Only a few drops of nectar still dropped from their wilting petals.

Jasmine rapidly pulled at a chain that hung around her neck, bringing out from under her clothes a tiny white jar capped with silver. She ran to the patch of mud and held the jar under the nectar flow so that the last few golden drops dripped into it. Then she watched as the Lilies bent their heads and slowly collapsed into the mud.

“Who knows how long it will be till they bloom again,” she said calmly, when at last she moved back to the others. “But at least they will bloom, because the sun will shine on them after this. And in the meantime, I have at least some of the nectar. It is indeed a great prize.”

“Will you drink of it, and live forever?” asked Lief. But he smiled, for he already knew the answer.

Jasmine tossed her head. “Only a fool would want such a thing,” she snorted. “And these few drops would not do the work in any case, according to Gorl. But the nectar will still be useful — as we have proved already today.”

“How?” asked Barda, bewildered.

“It brought you back from the brink of death, as it happens,” Lief murmured. “I will tell you. But first …”

He picked up Gorl’s sword. The giant topaz seemed to wink, then fell cleanly from the hilt of the sword into his hand. He laughed joyously as he held it up and the sunbeams lit its yellow surface, turning it to gold.

“What is it?” exclaimed Jasmine. “Is this what you have been seeking?”

Lief realized, too late, that in his excitement he had betrayed their secret. He saw Barda grimace, then nod slightly. Tell her a little but not all , Barda’s nod said.

“It is a topaz, symbol of faithfulness.” Lief put the gem into Jasmine’s eager hand.

“Some say that a topaz can —” Barda began.

He broke off, startled. The clearing had abruptly dimmed, as though the sun had gone behind a cloud. At the same moment a thick, billowing mist began to form. Kree screeched, Filli chattered nervously. The three companions froze.

Out of the mist, a wavering white figure appeared. It was a woman, sweet-faced and smiling.

“It is a spirit,” breathed Barda. “The topaz …”

The mist swirled. Then there was a voice.

“Jasmine!” the voice called. “Jasmine, my dearest!”

Lief looked quickly at Jasmine. The girl was standing rigidly, holding the topaz out in front of her. Her face was as white as the mist itself. Her lips moved as she stared at the figure before her. “Mama!” she breathed. “Is — is it you? Can it be you?”

“Yes, Jasmine. How wonderful it is to be able to speak to you at last. Jasmine — listen to me carefully. I do not have much time. You have done well, very well, since your father and I were taken from you. But now you must do more.”

“What?” Jasmine whispered. “What, Mama?”

The spirit stretched out her hands. “The boy Lief and the man Barda are friends, and their quest is just,” she said, her voice as soft as the sighing of the wind. “It is a quest that will free our land from the Shadow Lord. But they still have much to do, and far to travel. You must join them — leave the Forests and go with them — and help them as much as you are able. It is your destiny. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jasmine whispered. “But Mama —”

“I must leave you now,” breathed the sighing voice. “But I will be watching over you, as I always have, Jasmine. And I love you, as I have always done. Be of good heart, my dearest.”