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

Endon took the hand in both his own and bowed his head. Then, suddenly, the walls of the chapel trembled as though the palace had been struck by a great wind.

“We must go!” Sharn cried in alarm.

As he helped her climb into the tunnel entrance, Endon turned to Jarred. “You say we must run, that we must hide, but where can we go?” he asked in a trembling voice.

“With the Shadow Lord will come a time of confusion and darkness,” Jarred answered grimly. “Many people will be roaming the countryside, neighbor will lose sight of neighbor, and life will not be as it was before. The confusion will aid us.”

“You have thought of a place?” whispered Endon.

“Perhaps,” muttered Jarred. “It will be dangerous, but if you are willing, the chance is worth taking.”

Endon asked no more, but followed his wife into the tunnel. Jarred climbed after him, pulling the marble tile back into place over his head so that no one could tell where they had gone.

As the last of the light from the chapel was shut out and blackness enfolded him, he thought of Anna and his heart ached.

The life they had known had been hard, but they had been happy. Now all this was ended. Fear and trouble were coming — long years of waiting while Deltora groaned under the yoke of the Shadow Lord.

And only time could tell what would happen then.

Lief ran for home down the dark, winding back-streets of Del, past lighted houses closed tightly for the night. He ran as fast and silently as a cat, his heart hammering in his chest.

He was late. Very late. He had to hurry, but he knew that the smallest sound could betray him.

It was forbidden to be on the streets after sunset. That was one of the Shadow Lord’s strictest laws. It had been put into force on the day he took possession of Del, just over sixteen years ago. The penalty for breaking it was death.

Lief slipped into a long, narrow street that ran through the ruined part of the city. It smelt of damp and decay. The stones under his feet were slimy and treacherous.

He had been out after sunset before, but not for so long and never so far from home. He wished with all his heart that he had been more careful. It flashed through his mind that his father and mother would be waiting for him, worried for him.

“You are free for the afternoon, my son,” his father had said when their midday meal was over. “Your sixteenth birthday is a special day. Your mother and I want you to be glad and to celebrate with your friends.”

Lief was overjoyed. Never before had he been granted leave in the middle of the working day. Usually he had to study in the afternoons.

He had always felt that this was unfair. He was the only one of his friends who had lessons to do. Why learn to read and write? Why learn figures and history and worry at mind games? Of what use were these things to a blacksmith?

But his parents had insisted that the lessons go on, and, grumbling, Lief had obeyed. Now he was used to the way things were. But this did not mean that he liked them any better. A free afternoon was the best birthday gift he could imagine.

“Tonight, there will be another gift. And — things we must discuss together,” his father said, exchanging looks with his mother.

Lief glanced at their grave faces with quick curiosity. “What things?” he asked.

His mother smiled and shook her head. “We will talk of them tonight, Lief,” she said, pushing him gently towards the door. “For now, enjoy your holiday. But stay out of trouble. And keep track of the time, I beg you. Be home well before sunset.”

Lief promised gladly and ran — out of the house, through the hot forge where he helped his father each morning, past Barda, the tattered, half-wit beggar who sat all day at the gate and slept in the forge yard by night. He crossed the road that led to the palace on the hill and waded through the weed-filled fields beyond. Then he ran joyfully on till he reached the market, where he could lose himself in the smells and sounds of the noisy, crowded city.

He found one of his friends, then another, then three more. Happily they roamed their favorite haunts together. They had no money to spend but they found fun anyway — teasing the stall-holders in the markets, running up and down the grimy alleyways, dodging the Grey Guards, looking for silver coins in the choked and overflowing gutters. Then, in a deserted and overgrown patch of ground not far from the palace walls, they found something better than silver — a twisted old tree covered in small, round red fruits.

“Apples!” Lief knew what the fruits were. He had even tasted an apple, once. It was when he was very young. In those days there were still some large orchards in the city. Apples and other fruits could be bought in the markets, though they were costly. But years ago it had been declared that all fruits of Del were the property of the Shadow Lord, wherever the trees that bore them grew.

This tree had somehow been forgotten, and there were no Guards to be seen.

Lief and his friends picked as many of the apples as they could carry and went down into the drain-tunnels under the city to eat them in secret. The fruits were small and spotted, but they were sweet. It was a feast, enjoyed all the better for knowing that it was stolen from the hated Shadow Lord.

An hour before sunset, Lief’s friends left him and hurried home. Lief, however, was unwilling to waste his last hour of freedom. He stayed in the silence and dimness of the drains, exploring and thinking.

He meant to stay only a little while, but then he discovered a small drain-tunnel branching off the main, leading, he was sure, towards the palace on the hill. He crept along this new tunnel as far as he dared, then turned back, promising himself that he would follow it further another day. But when, finally, he crawled up to the surface, he found that time had rushed by. Night had fallen.

So now he was in danger.

Lief skidded to a stop as two Grey Guards turned a corner in front of him and began pacing in his direction. They were talking and had not yet heard him, seen him, or caught his scent. But when they did …

He held his breath, desperately looking this way and that, seeking a way of escape. High walls rose on either side of him, dripping with slimy water and slippery with moss. He could never climb them unaided. He could not turn and run, either. To do so would mean certain death.

Lief had prowled Del’s streets all his life, and often met with danger. He prided himself on his many lucky escapes in the past. He was fast, agile, and daring. But he had sense, too — sense enough to know that he could not run the length of this street without being cut down.

Each Guard carried a sling and a supply of what the people of Del called “blisters.” The blisters were silver eggs filled with burning poison. They burst on contact with a target and the Guards could hurl them with deadly strength and accuracy, even in darkness. Lief had seen enough blister victims fall, writhing in agony, to know that he did not want to risk the same fate.

Yet if he stayed where he was the Guards would come upon him and he would die in any case. By blister or by dagger, he would die.

Lief flattened himself against the wall, still as a shadow, not daring to move a muscle. The Guards paced on towards him. Closer, closer …

If only they would turn around! he thought feverishly. If only something would distract them! Then I would have a chance.

He was not praying for a miracle, because he did not believe in miracles. Few citizens of Del did these days. So he was astounded when a moment later there was a clatter from the corner behind the Guards. They spun around and began running towards the sound.