Deltora Quest #7: The Valley of the Lost (8 page)

G
ently, they opened the bedroom door once more. The Guardian had not moved, but now the monsters were sprawled all over him. Hearing intruders, all of them raised their heads and snarled threateningly.

“This is impossible!” breathed Barda. “They will not let us near him. How can we find out about them from here?”

“Perhaps we can call them by name,” Jasmine suggested. “Each in turn.”

“Well, do not call Greed first, that is all I ask,” murmured Lief.

“Why?” Jasmine asked.

Lief grew very still. He had spoken without thinking. He had blurted out the half-joking request because of something he had not realized he knew.

“Because,” he said, his heart starting to pound,
“because, when we first came to the palace the Guardian told us that the envious monster and the proud one are both afraid of Greed. So Greed cannot be the envious one, or the proud one, itself. And we also know that Greed is not greedy, for none of the monsters has the fault after which it has been named. So — that means Greed must be the most dangerous one of all, the one full of hatred.”

He could tell that his friends were thinking of other things the Guardian had said. Things that at the time they had not guessed were important. But which, now, suddenly seemed very important indeed.

Without a word, they backed out of the door for a second time, and closed it behind them.

“He gave us the clues, and we did not realize!” hissed Jasmine. “What else did he say?”

“He said that Envy once nearly killed the greedy one, fighting over scraps from the table,” said Barda firmly.

“If Envy tried to kill the greedy one, then it is not greedy itself,” said Lief. “And it is not envious, we know that …”

“And it is not full of hatred!” exclaimed Jasmine. “For we have already decided that Greed is that. So Envy … must be the one who is proud!”

They were walking away from the door, through to another room. By now they were sure that they had no need to face the monsters. They already knew enough to work the puzzle out for themselves.

“What else did the Guardian tell us?” hissed Lief, racking his brains. “He said …”

“He said that Hate is not envious!” said Jasmine triumphantly. “He said it when we first saw the beasts.”

“Yes!” Lief remembered. “And Hate is not full of hatred. And it is not proud, for Envy is the proud one. So — Hate must be greedy!”

“And that leaves only one fault for Pride,” said Barda slowly. “Pride is envious.”

Without a word, Lief wrote E on the first dash on his paper.

And now there was only one letter left to find, for the rhyme had said that the second and last letters of the name were the same. Barda repeated the clue:

My second and my last begin

The sum of errors in the twin …

“I have not the smallest idea what this could mean,” Jasmine confessed. “I feel I am stupid, but —”

“If you are stupid, then so am I,” growled Barda. “It has been a mystery to me from the start.”

And Lief could not think what the strange lines could possibly mean, either. All he knew was that somewhere in this glass-walled maze was the last clue, and they had to find it.

Filled with desperate energy, they hurried from room to gleaming room, searching everywhere for some sign that would help them solve the riddle. But they found nothing. Nothing but magnificent emptiness.

Finally they turned a corner and Jasmine groaned. “But we have been here before!” she exclaimed. “We have already searched this room.”

Lief and Barda looked around them and realized that Jasmine was right.

“There is nowhere left to look!” Barda’s face was lined with weariness, heavy with despair.

Outside the windows, heavy mist rolled in darkness, shadowy figures drifted, fingers trailed across glass, haunted eyes stared. How much time had passed? Lief found he did not know. He clutched at the Belt under his shirt as he felt panic rising within him once more.

“The clue is here somewhere. We know it,” he said, managing to keep his voice steady, the amethyst cool under his fingers. “We will simply begin the search again.”

They moved on, and on, rechecking every space, till they reached the curtained study where they had begun.

“We searched this room from top to bottom,” Barda muttered. “Surely there is no point …”

But they had to enter the study. None of them could resist the urge to look at the candle, to know how much time they had left.

Lief had braced himself for what he might see, but even he could not keep back a gasp of horror as he saw how low the flame now burned. The candle was just a
stub, almost smothered by a thick mass of hardened drips. It could not last much longer.

“We cannot go on with this,” Jasmine said urgently. “We must smash the glass door, take the diamond, and run, Lief, whatever you say. We must do it now!”

“She is right, Lief, I fear,” said Barda, his eyes on the flame.

Lief shook his head despairingly. He knew,
knew
, that this would be a terrible mistake. Yet what choice had they? There was plainly no time to waste. No time to search the palace again. No time to think …

Jasmine had begun darting around the room, looking for something heavy that she could use to shatter the glass. Finding nothing better, she swept the books off the low table and began dragging it determinedly towards the door.

“No!” shouted Lief. “You must not!”

Jasmine swung around furiously. “I must! Do you not understand, Lief? What is the matter with you? It is too late now to worry about a warning in some old book! We cannot win the diamond. The Guardian’s rhyme, with its riddling talk of twins that do not exist, has defeated us. This is the only way!”

She turned again and went on heaving at the table. After a brief hesitation, Barda went to join her. Pushing her aside, he lifted the table clear of the rug and carried it to the glass door.

Lief sprang at him, pulling urgently at his arm. But
he had no chance against Barda’s strength. The big man shook him off ruthlessly, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Stand back,” Barda said grimly. “The glass will shatter. Cover your eyes.”

Lief crawled to his knees, his head spinning. Barda was already swinging the table back, steadying himself, preparing to strike. Lief ducked his head. The rug, with its flowers, fruit, and birds, was soft under his hands. The two hermits stared solemnly up at him. Two pairs of eyes. Two beards. Two long, plain robes, tied at the waist …

Lief stared. The blood rushed to his face. “Twins!” he shouted, staggering to his feet. “Barda, stop! The twins! I have found them!”

He pointed desperately at the rug as Barda slowly lowered the table and Jasmine stamped with frustration and anger.

“They were here all the time!” Lief babbled. “We hardly noticed them because they were under the table, and under our feet. But now you can see clearly. The hermits seem exactly alike. They look like twins! But they are not exactly alike at all!”

By this time, Jasmine and Barda were by his side, staring at the rug. Lief snatched out the paper he had stuffed in his pocket.

“The sum of errors in the twin,” he read. “That must mean the number of differences between one hermit and the other.”

“
Are
there differences?” demanded Jasmine, glancing worriedly over her shoulder at the weak candle flame. “Where?”

“Look at the cord around the waist,” Lief urged. “In one picture it is knotted on the left side, in the other it is knotted on the right.”

“And the bird!” Barda exclaimed. “In one picture it has a crest, in the other it does not.”

“There are more bees coming from the hive in one than in the other,” Jasmine added, drawn into the search in spite of herself. “And look — one tree has berries, the other has flowers.”

“The toadstools on one side are spotted, the others are plain,” Barda pointed out.

“That makes five differences,” said Lief. “And there is another. One tree has a branch of leaves on the top left-hand corner, the other does not. Six differences.”

“The hermit is holding three stems in one picture, and only two in the other! Seven!” whispered Jasmine.

They looked carefully, but could see nothing more.

“The number is seven,” muttered Barda, his voice harsh with relief. “The letter we are looking for is S.”

“No!” Jasmine was pointing again at the rug. “Wait, I see something else! The sack beside him. One sack has a tie. The other does not.”

“You are right!” Lief exclaimed. “Eight! So the letter we are looking for, the second letter of the Guardian’s name, and the last, is not S, but E.”

“We have already had an E,” hissed Jasmine.

“Ah, he is cunning,” growled Barda. “He thought we would be tricked by that. And we nearly were!”

Lief scribbled on his diagram, then showed them.

“Eedoe. His name is Eedoe.” Jasmine collapsed on the couch behind her. “Oh, we have done it!”

In the relieved silence that followed, Lief suddenly became aware that the soft music that had filled the air the night before had begun again. No doubt that meant that the Guardian had woken.

He glanced at the candle. The wick was flickering uncertainly, swimming in a pool of melted wax. The flame was about to go out. But that did not matter now.

The hermits on the rug looked up at him with sad eyes. No reason for sadness now, my friends, he thought. We have nearly …

And then he saw it.

One hermit’s arm, the arm on which the bird sat, was held above the tie of his robe. The other was not.

Lief stared stupidly at the paper in his hand. His chest grew tight. He was finding it hard to breathe.

“Lief, what is the matter?” hissed Jasmine. But Lief could not answer. He walked stiffly to the glass door.

“Say it!” Barda urged. “Say, ‘Eedoe’!”

Lief wet his lips. “The name is not Eedoe,” he said huskily. “There are nine differences, not eight. The missing letter was N. The name — the Guardian’s secret name — is — Endon.”

T
he door swung silently open. The glass table, the golden casket, lay waiting. But Lief, Barda, and Jasmine stood where they were, gripped by horror.

“It cannot be!” Jasmine whispered. “The Guardian is too old to be King Endon! He looks as old as time!”

“He has lived as the servant of evil for sixteen years,” said Lief drearily. “Evil has eaten him from within. Even Father would not recognize him now.” His heart ached as he thought of what his father would feel, if he ever had to know what his friend had become.

“Jarred always said that Endon was weak,” Barda growled. “Foolish and weak. Protected from the world, and used to flattery and power. But still he loved him, and tried to protect him. He saved Endon
from the palace, and certain death. And for what? For this!”

“How could Father know that Tora would refuse to help?” cried Lief. “How could he know that Endon would turn to the dark side, to regain all he had lost?”

“Do not call him Endon,” Barda muttered. “He is not Endon any longer, but the Guardian. And he has regained nothing! He is deceived and used. He is unloved, alone …”

Jasmine gasped, her eyes wide and alert. “He is alone,” she repeated. “Alone! Where is the queen? Where is the heir?”

The others were silent. Their shock had for a moment driven all other thoughts from their minds. But now they saw that Jasmine had seized on the really important question.

“Father said Queen Sharn was strong,” Lief said. “Strong — and brave. Not at all the spoiled, petted palace doll she appeared. Perhaps she refused to stay with Endon, once he began to listen to the Shadow Lord, once he began to become the Guardian. Perhaps she took the child, and fled.”

He turned to them, his face alight with hope. “And if that is true, if Sharn and the heir are living safely somewhere else, it does not
matter
what Endon has become. The heir has always been the one we had to find.”

At that moment, somewhere in the palace, he heard
footsteps and low, growling sounds. Coming closer. His skin crawled.

“Quickly!” he muttered.

He hurried into the small room, with Barda and Jasmine close behind him. Together they approached the table and stood before it.

But before Lief could lift a hand, there was a sound at the door. The Guardian was standing there, his seamed, ruined face writhing with astonishment, fury, and baffled pride. Behind him, the monsters snarled.

“So,” spat the Guardian. “You discovered my name. Did it surprise you?”

“A little,” said Barda evenly.

The Guardian sneered. But Lief thought he could see, deep in the red eyes, a gleam of reluctant respect.

“Only one other has ever done so,” he said. “And he — he found the truth so hard to bear that he refused to enter this room and claim his prize. He left the valley, cursing me. Saying that he and his cause, whatever that may be, wanted nothing that had been tainted by my possession.”

With a jolt, Lief realized who that man must have been. The man who had travelled far and wide across Deltora, seeking allies for his cause and money for arms and supplies. The man who had warned them so earnestly against coming to the Valley of the Lost. Who had always said, so bitterly, that the battle for Deltora must be fought without the king, without magic.
Who had told them so firmly that their quest was pointless.

“Doom,” he murmured, and felt Jasmine and Barda stiffen beside him.

The Guardian laughed mockingly. “I never knew his name, though he, at last, knew mine. It is a shame that he did not stay. There was a bitterness and hatred within him that warmed my heart, and made my creatures glad.”

He stroked his beard, looking at the companions slyly. “Will you follow his example, and run?”

“No, we will not,” said Barda boldly. “We will take our prize.”

Lief put his hands on the golden casket. His neck burned as the Guardian’s red eyes stared from the door. The Guardian. His father’s friend Endon, hideously changed.

And Doom has known it all the time, he thought angrily. Yet he did not tell us. No, he kept it to himself. As he keeps everything. Trusting no one. No one but himself. Whatever the cost.

The beasts at the door whimpered and growled. Lief knew they could feel his anger. It was like meat and drink to them. This was not the time to think of things that did not matter. He pressed the catch. The lid of the casket flew up.

And inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, a great diamond gleamed.

Lief snatched up the gem and whirled around, clutching it tightly.

“Get out!” the Guardian hissed. “Take your prize, and go!”

The door leading into the valley swung open. Mist billowed into the room, mingled with the sound of soft, sighing voices.

“Lief!” urged Barda, trying to pull Lief towards the opening.

But Lief stood his ground, feeling the blood rush into his face.

“Why do you stay?” snarled the Guardian. “Is it not enough that you have won? Must you jeer at me, too?”

“You have cheated us,” Lief cried, his voice trembling with anger. He held out the jewel, gleaming on the palm of his hand. “This gem may be a diamond. But it is not the diamond from the Belt of Deltora!”

“I never promised you more than what was in the casket!” the Guardian blustered. “I said to you clearly, ‘you may take your prize and go.’ That is all.”

“You told us your treasure was the diamond from the Belt of Deltora,” Lief insisted. “And the real gem was here, when first you showed us this room. But now it has gone.”

He moved a step forward, ignoring the monsters’ snarls. “You moved it, Guardian, once we were safely out of the way, searching other parts of your palace,” he shouted. “You replaced it with another gem. So that even
if we won your game, your real treasure would not be lost.”

The Guardian’s eyes narrowed. “How can you know this?” he spat.

“It does not matter how I know,” Lief cried. “The important thing is, you have lied and cheated. You, who make so much of following the rules.”

“And did
you
follow the rules?” the Guardian jeered. “Yes! I took my jewel from the casket, and hid it outside in the mist. The gem I put in its place should more than satisfy your greed.”

Panting with rage, he moved towards them, his creatures growling around his feet. “But who was watching me?” he spat. “Who stole the diamond from its hiding place, as soon as I turned my back? The fourth member of your party. The one who refused to play the game. Who pretended to have left the valley!”

“Neridah?” gasped Lief. “But … we knew nothing of this!”

“So you say,” sneered the Guardian.

“Of course we did not know!” Jasmine was already at the doorway, almost hidden in the swirling mist. “If we had, would we have wasted our time on your stupid game? Where is she? Which way did she go?”

The Guardian shrugged. “It does not matter to you,” he said. “You have your prize.”

Lief stepped forward, his fists clenched. The creatures snarled.

“Lief, no!” snapped Barda. “Forget this. We must try to find Neridah’s tracks. By now she will be hours away.”

But Lief paid no attention. His eyes were fixed on the Guardian. “Where is Neridah?” he asked softly. “She has not left the valley, has she? You know where she is, and the diamond, too.”

“And if I do know,” the Guardian said, just as softly, “I will not be telling you. Did you really think I would give you the most important thing in my life? The thing that is the symbol of my lord’s favor? The thing that has brought me power and riches?”

“It has brought you dust and ashes, Guardian,” spat Lief. “It has surrounded you with misery. You gained it through cunning, trickery, theft, and violence. Its curse is upon you. And in your heart you know it.”

Something flickered in the red eyes. “Who are you?” the Guardian murmured. “Who are you, that you know so much?”

“I have read
The Belt of Deltora
, as you have done.”

“It is more than that, I think,” the Guardian said. “I think you are the ones! The ones of whom I was told.” He nodded to Jasmine and her hand reached up unwillingly and pulled the cap from her head. Her black hair fell, tangling, to her shoulders.

The Guardian smiled grimly. “And so I was deceived,” he said. “The black bird, of course, remained
outside the mist. And the fourth member of the party, the thief, was merely following you to profit by your cleverness. Ah — how nearly I let you slip through my fingers.”

Once again his red eyes turned on Lief. “Give it to me,” he commanded. “Give me the Belt of Deltora!”

Lief felt his hands move to his waist. His fingers found the clasp of the Belt. Sweat breaking out on his forehead, he forced them away from it, pushing them with all the force of his will over the gems that studded the medallions. His hand slid over the topaz, the ruby, the opal … and came to rest on the lapis lazuli, the heavenly stone, the talisman. He curled his fingers over it, and held it fast.

“That will not protect you,” snarled the Guardian. He strode forward with Envy, Greed, Hate, and Pride growling and drooling around his feet. He reached out, and his hands fastened on the Belt like claws.

His eyes glowed with triumph, then suddenly widened, burning, burning like pits of fire. Staring into them, fixed in terror, Lief seemed to see a thousand pictures leaping in the flames.

But the Belt was icy cold.

The Guardian’s mouth gaped in a shriek of agony. And the monsters — the monsters were capering around him, throwing up their heads and howling, straining at their leads, trying to get away from him.

Lief staggered. He was released. The spell was broken. The Guardian fell to his knees, throwing back his head, still clinging to the Belt as though he could not let go. Envy, Greed, Hate, and Pride turned on him in a frenzy, their jaws frothing, their terrible teeth ripping and tearing at him, shredding his robe to ribbons, slicing into the shrivelled grey flesh beneath.

And then, with a thrill of horror, Lief saw what the robe had hidden. Saw the four great, oozing lumps on the Guardian’s chest. Saw the pulsing, fleshy cords that arose from them, twisting and snaking through his sleeves and on to the swollen necks of the savage, attacking beasts. The Guardian had called Hate, Greed, Envy, and Pride his pets, but they were part of him. Vile growths from his own body.

“Release me!” screamed the Guardian. “They are eating me alive! Cut the cords! Oh, I beg you!”

Lief’s sword was in his hand. Shuddering, his ears ringing with the shrieks of the man and the roars of the beasts, with his companions’ shouts of horror, he swung at the lashing ropes of flesh, slicing them through.

Yellow-green liquid gushed from the wounds. The cords writhed, their cut ends flopping horribly to the ground. The monsters swayed, then fell. For an instant they lay twitching. Then they were still.

The Guardian’s fingers loosened. His withering
face turned up to Lief’s. In the red eyes, the fires were dying.

“The diamond,” he croaked. “Take it! It is with her. Where she lies. The stream …”

He crumpled and fell backward. Lief, Jasmine, and Barda turned and ran.