The Shadowlands (12 page)

L
ief came to his senses slowly. Something was thumping, thumping, every thunderous beat sending shooting pain through his head. He was lying on a hard, jolting surface that was jarring his aching bones…

He forced his eyes open. His head was jammed against cold bars. He could see nothing beyond the bars, because thick fabric hung over them on the outside.

It took some time to remember what had happened and then to realise, with cold horror, where he was. He was in the cage, and it was moving through the Arena. The sound he could hear was the beating of the great drum.

Barda and Jasmine were stirring beside him. Pi-Ban was crouched by Barda’s head, his face the picture of despair.

Lief felt for his sword, but of course it was gone. With a thrill of terror he moved his hand to his neck, and
relief rushed through him as he felt the cord unbroken and the Pirran Pipe still hanging beneath his shirt.

Rough voices were muttering somewhere near. Lief realised that they were the voices of the Guards who were pushing the cage on his side.

‘The Ol will try to claim the credit.’

‘Let it try! When the covers come off, its face will show its surprise. The master will understand that it was the Baks who brought him the three, and that the Ol knew nothing of it.’

‘That scrawny Wild One that was with them—’

Emlis!
thought Lief, looking wildly around the cage. Then he remembered. The last he had seen of Emlis was when the little Keron fell from the cage in the tunnel.

Another Guard was speaking. Lief closed his eyes, straining to hear. As he listened, his heart sank.

‘The Wild One was damaged. It crawled away to die. Forget it. It is the three the master wants. Boy. Big man. Girl with black bird. We had fine luck, Bak 3.’

‘And what a fool the Ol will look!’

Low, sly guffaws.

Wincing at the pain in his head, Lief hauled himself to the front of the cage. At the corner, the cover flaps gaped apart. He squinted through the gap.

Ahead, the Ol, 3-19, stalked straight-backed towards the platform where Tira waited, her face like thunder. Beside Tira stood Hellena, one hand holding Faith’s chain, the other resting on the lid of the metal box.

Behind the Grey Guards lining the path pressed the
mass of dull-eyed, ragged people. And beyond, rising out of sight, were tiers of seats crowded with onlookers—onlookers of every shape, colour and size.

The audience seemed to be shimmering, shifting, wavering… Lief rubbed his eyes.

Then he realised that his eyes were not at fault. There were a few Ra-Kacharz on the benches, some pods of Guards, and a rabble of Wild Ones. But most of the audience were Ols—Grade 1 and 2 Ols, whose shapes kept changing, melting and re-forming as he watched.

Here, of course, there was no need to deceive. The lower-grade Ols did not have to hold one shape if they did not wish it. They could change at will, for their own entertainment or use.

He focused on one pair as their horned, goat-like heads dissolved into gaping fish-faces, their hands became fins, their colour changed from brown to silver-green, their bodies swelled. This crowded the pair beside them, two women in red bonnets. The women hissed angrily, and for an instant showed their true shape—white and formless, with gaping toothless mouths and eyes like coals. The next moment the white shapes shrank and narrowed, becoming writhing snakes with human faces.

Sickened, Lief looked down again. At the slaves, standing so still and so silent.

And then—then he saw something strange. No-one appeared to be moving, but it was as though ripples were passing through the crowd.

He pressed his face against the bars. Yes! The same tiny actions were being repeated by one person after another. A small turn of the head. Lips moving, so slightly that it would be impossible to see from a distance that words were being said.

A message was being passed among the slaves. And Lief was sure he knew where the message had begun. With Claw, Brianne and Gers, mingling with the crowd at the edge of the Arena. Whispering the same words over and over again.

Watch the platform. Be ready to fight. Get to the road behind the Arena. Pass it on.

‘The word is spreading,’ said Barda’s voice in his ear. ‘We must stop it!’

Lief turned. Barda was behind him, looking over his head into the Arena. The big man’s eyes were deeply shadowed. A great red burn marked his brow where a sparking rod had struck him.

‘It is too late to stop it now,’ Lief said.

‘But everything has changed, and plainly Claw, Brianne and Gers do not know it!’ Barda whispered urgently. ‘They must have been hiding outside the tunnel when we were captured, and saw nothing. If they can see the cage covered now, they no doubt think it is all part of the plan!’

Lief felt for the Pirran Pipe and slipped it from its casing. Tingling warmth flowed through his fingers, and a strange peace stole over him. ‘Nothing has changed, Barda,’ he said calmly. ‘You cannot cage a sound. When
we reach the platform, I will play the Pipe exactly as planned. Not as Emlis might have done, but as well as I can.’

‘Whatever else the Pipe may do, it will not melt iron bars, Lief,’ said Barda grimly. ‘The others may escape. But we will be trapped.’

Then so it will have to be, Lief thought. Claw, Brianne and Gers can lead the people to freedom as well as we can. But he said nothing.

Looking around for Jasmine, he saw that she had also woken and crawled to the front of the cage. But she had not come to join her companions. She was crouched in the other corner, peering through the gap in the covers there.

Trying to catch a glimpse of Faith, Lief thought. The sister she has been seeking all along.

He moved to Jasmine’s side, touched her hand. ‘Jasmine,’ he whispered. ‘Why did you not tell me of Faith?’

Jasmine turned on him, her eyes dark with misery. ‘Tell
you
? How can you ask that?’ she said in a low voice.

Lief stared at her, aghast. ‘What—what do you mean?’ he stammered.

Jasmine clenched her fists. ‘Do you still try to deceive me, Lief, even now?’ she hissed. ‘Do you not understand? I
know.
I know what you did!’

‘What?’ Lief asked wildly.

The word was no sooner out of his mouth when the cage’s front wheels hit the foot of the ramp with a thump.
He, Barda and Jasmine were thrown violently backwards. The Pirran Pipe flew out of Lief’s hand and began to roll towards the back of the cage. He snatched for it frantically and managed to catch it just as the Guards, grunting with effort, tilted the cage and began to haul it upward. Another second and the Pipe would have slipped through the bars and been lost.

His heart beating fast at the near disaster, Lief crawled back to the front of the cage.

Forget everything, he told himself. Everything except what must be done. He felt a familiar dread chill and knew that the cage was nearing the metal box. He gripped the Pirran Pipe more tightly.

‘Attention, slaves!’ Hellena cried. ‘I have something of importance to tell you! Listen well!’

Lief reached the cage corner and peered through the gap. Tira was standing right beside it, with 3-19.

‘Why is the cage covered?’ Tira muttered furiously to 3-19, glancing nervously upward.

‘The Baks did it,’ said 3-19 sullenly. ‘By the time I saw their disobedience, the summons had come and it was too late to take the covers off.’

‘You are an incompetent fool!’ Tira spat. ‘How glad I am that the master has finished with you and your kind.’

She turned away. 3-19 glared at her, his long fingers twitching as though he longed to fasten them around her slender neck.

Tira had moved to stand beside Hellena. Hellena raised her arms.

‘Once I was a deadly enemy of the master,’ Hellena cried. ‘I freed his slaves. I killed his servants. I confess it. And my companion was once the foulest of rebels—a creeping, deceitful spy who secretly helped the master’s foes!’

Tira lifted her chin. ‘I confess it!’ she said loudly.

Lief heard Barda’s soft groan behind him, but did not look around.

Hellena’s cold, glittering gaze swept over the Arena. ‘Now, we are both free of doubt, fear and evil thoughts. Thanks to the gift the master has bestowed on us, we are not only his servants, but his eyes and ears as well.’

Lovingly, her hand smoothed the metal box. ‘Like us, you deserve death, slaves. But the master is merciful. You are all to share his gift. Soon your struggles will be at an end. You will belong to the master, as we do.’

The audience cheered wildly. The slaves on the floor of the Arena were deathly still. Hellena smiled coldly.

‘There is no need to fear, slaves, whatever rumours you may have heard,’ she said. ‘The Conversion process has been perfected. It is safe, efficient and simple. Once released, the carriers of the master’s gift will find their own way to you. They are slim, and very fast. The process will take no time at all. ‘

She touched her ear. ‘A brief moment’s pain—here—and the master will be with you always. Your Conversion will bring you freedom. You will return to your homes, mingle with your people, and do the master’s will gladly.’

Lief’s skin was crawling. At last he understood what
had happened to Tira and Hellena. He understood what the hideous worms were—what they did. He saw the Shadow Lord’s plan.

The master has many plans…

Into Lief’s mind sprang a terrifying picture. Thousands of prisoners set free by the Shadow Lord, returning to Deltora, received with joy and welcome. Thousands of prisoners who looked and sounded exactly as they had before, but who carried the Enemy within their brains, guiding their every thought, their every deed.

Thousands of prisoners, in whose keeping, safe in bags or pockets, were more of the deadly scarlet-headed worms. So that at night, while their families and neighbours slept…

Hellena had begun speaking again. ‘Though there is no escape from the master’s gift, it is best if you do not struggle,’ she said. ‘With the help of the slave Faith and the gnome who once fought side by side with me against the master, I will show you how easy it can be.’

She turned to the Guards. ‘Remove the covers!’ she ordered.

T
he covers were swept from the cage. Light streamed in, mercilessly exposing the four people who had sprung to their feet and backed against the bars. Lief heard 3-19 shouting in anger and the Baks’ loud, triumphant explanations. He saw Tira and Hellena looking up, with shining eyes, at the red smoke swirling in the tower above them, and the dark shadow within it.

Lightning cracked the boiling clouds. A thunderous gale crashed downward, throwing Lief and the others off their feet, pinning them down. The cage shuddered, its wheels bent by the force of the blast.

Gasping for breath, unable to move, pressed down, down by the howling wind, Lief heard the screams of the slaves writhing helplessly in the Arena, the cries of Tira and Hellena, the grunts of the Baks and the Perns on the platform as they struggled to rise.

Screeching, the seven Ak-Baba swooped downward, riding the gale, talons outstretched, hooked beaks gaping.
The columns that ringed the platform trembled and came to life. Ols! Hissing white flames with darkness at their hearts, with gaping, toothless mouths, hollow eyes and clutching hands, they rose and stood against the force of the wind. And with a grating crash, stone doors slid into place, sealing the Arena.

Then Lief knew that not only Jasmine, but
all
of them, had been expected. The Enemy had not known how, or where, they would appear. But he had known they would come. He had prepared for it.

There was one thing, though, that the Enemy had not expected. Eyes watering, almost deafened by the roaring wind, Lief began dragging the Pirran Pipe towards his lips. Slowly, slowly he forced his hand upward.

‘3-19! The prisoners are down! They are ready!’ Tira shrieked against the gale. ‘Open the Conversion Project!’

The Ol in the shape of Fallow walked to the metal box, moving easily, untroubled by the wind. He put his hand to the catch that fastened the trapdoor.

‘3-19!’ Lief shouted with all his strength. ‘Beware!’

The Ol turned its head to look at him blankly.

‘Do not listen!’ screamed Tira.‘3-19! I order you!’

‘You will be finished if you open that box, Ol!’ Lief shouted. ‘With humans to do his will, your master will have no need of you. You and all your kind will lie rotting in the scrap mounds with the Guards.’

3-19 hesitated, frowning.

‘Baks! Perns!’ cried Tira in fury.

But the Baks and Perns, scrabbling on the boards of the platform, could not move, any more than she could.

Lief’s hand, clutching the Pipe, had reached his chest. He forced it on towards his mouth. He needed one more moment. One more…

Red smoke rushed from the tower, ferocious malice at its heart. Eyes blazed within the smoke. Shadowy hands reached out.

3-19 cried out in agony, crumpled and fell. The trapdoor at the end of the box burst open. Scarlet-headed worms streamed out in a great flood, spreading, greedily seeking, into the cage.

Lief could feel them seething over his feet, his legs. Jasmine and Barda’s panic-stricken cries were ringing in his ears. Kree was screeching despairingly. Pi-Ban gave a single, high scream. Lief screwed his eyes shut, concentrating all his strength on a final, desperate effort.

Then he had the Pipe to his lips. He blew. One pure, clear note.

The piercing sound rose and echoed around the walls of the Arena, and on to the mountains beyond.

And with the sound, the stream of worms halted. The worms thrashed, twisting and dying like leeches of the Forbidden Way exposed to the light.

The red smoke recoiled in a clap of thunder that shook the ground. The gale died, and the Ak-Baba lurched in the skies. The Ols lowered their grasping hands and stood, swaying. The beings on the tiers of seats bent and groaned. The vraals howled in their cages.

The slaves in the Arena had been told to wait for the signal. What more of a signal did they need? They leaped to their feet and surged forward in a great wave. The confused Guards lining the pathway stumbled and fell, crushed beneath their weight.