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

Afearsome being clad in the armor of a Jalis knight, Gorl is said to guard the dark center of Mid Wood, the smallest of the three Forests of Silence. Legend has it that Gorl possesses supernatural strength and has the power to bend others to his will. Suspicious and jealous of his territory, he challenges all intruders, killing without mercy if his warning to flee is ignored. This story of a terrifying knight-presence haunting Mid Wood is an ancient one, having been told since before the joining of the seven tribes. The Deltora Annals contain more than fifty references to Gorl.

These are based only on the tales of travellers. Possibly they are simply reports of nightmarish visions produced by the terror of the Forests. It is interesting to note, however, that in all the accounts the details of the knight do not vary. In addition, the sketches made by those who have claimed to have seen Gorl and escaped with their lives, while varying widely in artistic skill, bear remarkable similarities to one another.

The origin of the Gorl legend, if legend it be, can probably be traced to a Jalis folktale that is even older than the Gorl story itself. It is called “The Tale of the Three Knights,” and is one of the “Tenna Birdsong” stories. It concerns three brothers, Jalis knights, who travelled to the Forests of Silence to seek the fabled Lilies of Life. The brothers at last found their prize, only to begin fighting over it until the two youngest had perished at the hands of their older brother. The names of the slain knights were Greddock and Gudden. Their murdering brother was — Gorl.

Gorl is a common name among the Jalis. But since in the tale the brothers find the Lilies of Life in “the Forests’ dark center,” we may surely guess at a link with the Gorl legend. Whether the link is one of fancy or of truth, who can say? But if it is truth, as this writer suspects, then the magic that has kept the being called Gorl alive and menacing over such ages is dark and powerful indeed.

The Wennbar is a gross beast whose territory is First Wood — the Forest of Silence which is most near to Del. Its slaves are the Wenn, a strange tribe of cold-blooded beings over which it seems to exert complete control.

The Wenn, which themselves eat only the leaves of certain bushes, trap humans and animals that stray into their path so as to provide the Wennbar with the warm flesh it prefers for food. By rubbing their lower legs together they make a high-pitched ringing sound unbearable to the ears of more advanced creatures.

They then sting and paralyze their disabled prey and offer it to the Wennbar as a helpless, living sacrifice.

This partnership between Wenn and Wennbar is mysterious, and does not seem to be an equal one. According to The Deltora Annals , the Wenn worship the Wennbar as a god. The monster’s pleasure at receiving food is their only reward. Its anger when cheated of prey usually means the death of one or more of them. Yet they do not rebel, but glory in their slavery.

Generally slow and heavy in its movements, the Wennbar is said to move extremely quickly when hungry or filled with anger. In addition, its neck, usually hidden in folds of flesh, can rapidly extend to enormous lengths, so that it can snatch creatures from trees and birds from the air.

By all accounts, there has only ever been one Wennbar, and the Wenn have always lived in the bushy grove called Wenn Del that guards the entrance to its territory. Legend has it that every hundred years the Wennbar goes into a deep sleep and, having been bathed in special oils by the Wenn, dies giving birth to several young.

The young fight each other to the death over the motionless body of their parent. The victor is the new Wennbar, destined to be tyrant over the Wenn for the next century.

It was the season for skimmers, and this year more skimmers than ever were coming over the Wall of Weld.

From dusk till dawn, the beasts flapped down through the cloud that shrouded the top of the Wall. They showered on the dark city like giant, pale falling leaves, leathery wings rasping, white eyes gleaming, needle teeth glinting in the dark.

The skimmers came for food. They came to feast on the warm-blooded creatures, animal and human, that lived within the Wall of Weld.

On the orders of the Warden, the usual safety notices had been put up all over the city. Few people bothered to read them, because they were always the same. But this year, in Southwall, where Lisbeth the beekeeper lived with her three sons, they had been covered with disrespectful scrawls.

No one knew who was writing on the notices — or so the people of Southwall claimed when the Keep soldiers questioned them. Like everyone else in Weld, the Southwall citizens were very law-abiding. Most would never have dreamed of damaging one of the Warden’s notices themselves. But many secretly agreed with the person who had done so.

Rye, the youngest of Lisbeth’s sons, had the half-thrilled, half-fearful suspicion that his eldest brother, Dirk, might be responsible.

Dirk worked on the Wall as his father had done, repairing and thickening Weld’s ancient defense against the barbarians on the coast of the island of Dorne. Brave, strong, and usually good-natured, Dirk had become increasingly angry about the Warden’s failure to protect Weld from the skimmer attacks.

Sholto, the middle brother, thin, cautious, and clever, said little, but Rye knew he agreed with Dirk. Sholto worked for Tallus, the Southwall healer, learning how to mend broken bones and mix potions. The soldiers had questioned him when they had come to the healer’s house seeking information. Rye had overheard him telling Dirk about it.

“Do not worry,” Sholto had drawled when Dirk asked him anxiously what he had said in answer to the questions. “If I cannot bamboozle those fancily dressed oafs, I am not the man you think I am.”

And Dirk had clapped him on the shoulder and shouted with laughter.

Rye hoped fervently that the soldiers would not question him, and to his relief, so far they had not. Rye was still at school, and no doubt the soldiers thought he was too young to know anything of importance.

As the clouded sky dimmed above them, and the Wall darkened around their city, the people of Weld closed their shutters and barred their doors.

Those who still followed the old magic ways sprinkled salt on their doorsteps and window ledges and chanted the protective spells of their ancestors. Those who no longer believed in such things merely stuffed rags and straw into the chinks in their mud-brick walls, and hoped for the best.

Lisbeth’s family did all these things, and more.

Lisbeth sprinkled the salt and murmured the magic words. Dirk, tall and fair, followed her around the house, fastening all the locks. Dark, lean Sholto trailed them like a shadow, pressing rags soaked in the skimmer repellent he had invented into the gaps between the shutters and the crack beneath the door.