Deltora Quest #1: The Forests of Silence (8 page)

T
error drove Lief upwards. Afterwards, he could not remember climbing for his life while the Wennbar’s huge body crashed against the trunk of the tree and its cruel jaws snapped at his heels. He had not had time to draw his sword. He had had no time for anything but escape.

When he came to himself he was clinging to a high branch, with Jasmine and Barda beside him. The Wennbar’s foul breath filled the air. Its roars filled their ears.

They were at last too high for it to reach them, even with its neck fully extended. But it was not giving up. It was dashing itself against the tree, raking the bark with its claws, trying to make them fall.

It was still not completely dark, but it was growing very cold. Lief’s cloak kept his body warm but his hands, clinging to the tree, were numb. Beside him,
Barda was shivering violently, and his teeth were chattering.

If this goes on, he will fall, Lief thought. He drew as near as he could to Barda and Jasmine. With cold, clumsy fingers he gathered up his cloak and threw it around them so that they could share its warmth.

For a moment they huddled together. And then, Lief realized that something had changed.

The beast had stopped beating itself against the tree. The roars had given way to a low, rumbling growl. Lief felt a movement and realized that Jasmine was peeping through the folds of the cloak to see what was happening.

“It is moving away,” she breathed in wonder. “It is as though it cannot see us any longer, and thinks we have somehow escaped. But why?”

“The cloak,” whispered Barda feebly. “The cloak — must be hiding us.”

Lief’s heart leapt as he remembered what his mother had said when she gave him the cloak.
This, too, will protect you wherever you go … The fabric is — special.

Just how special?

He heard Jasmine draw a sharp breath. “What is it?” he hissed.

“The Wenn are coming,” she said. “I see their eyes. They have heard the roaring cease. They think that the Wennbar has finished with you. They have come for the scraps that remain.”

Lief shuddered. Carefully he moved the cloak aside and peered down to the clearing.

Red eyes were glowing in the bushes, near to where the Wennbar prowled. The creature lifted its head, glared, and gave a loud, sharp barking call. It sounded like an order of some kind.

The bushes rustled. The Wennbar called again, even more loudly. And finally two pale, bent shapes crept, quivering, into the clearing to kneel before it.

The Wennbar grunted. Carelessly it seized the kneeling shapes, tossed them into the air, caught them in its hideous jaws and swallowed them whole.

Sickened, Lief turned away from the horrible sight.

Jasmine pushed away the cloak and stood up. “We are safe, now,” she said. “See? The Wenn have run away, and the creature is going back to its cave.”

Lief and Barda exchanged glances. “The cave must be the hiding place,” Barda said in a low voice. “Tomorrow night, when the creature comes out to feed, we will search it.”

“There is nothing in the Wennbar’s cave but bones and stink,” Jasmine snorted. “What is it you are looking for?”

“We cannot tell you,” said Barda, stiffly hauling himself to his feet. “But we know that it has been hidden in the most secret place in the Forests of Silence, and that it has a terrible Guardian. Where else could that be but here?”

To their surprise, Jasmine burst out laughing. “How little you know!” she cried. “Why, this is only a tiny corner at the very edge of this one Forest. There are three Forests in all, and each has a hundred places more dangerous and more secret than this!”

Lief and Barda glanced at each other again as her laughter rang out in the clearing. And then, suddenly, the sound stopped. When they turned to look at her again, she was frowning.

“What is it?” asked Lief.

“It is just …” Jasmine broke off and shook her head. “We will not speak of it now. I will take you to my nest. There we will be safe. There we can talk.”

They travelled as fast as Lief and Barda were able. As the forest thickened they kept to the treetops almost all the way, climbing from one branch to another, using vines to help them. Above were patches of star-studded sky. Below there was silent darkness. Kree flew ahead of them, stopping to wait when they fell behind. Filli clung to Jasmine’s shoulder, his eyes wide and bright.

With every moment, Lief felt his strength returning. But still he was glad when they at last reached Jasmine’s home. It was indeed a sort of nest — a big saucer of woven branches and twigs perched high in a huge, twisted tree that grew by itself in a mossy clearing. The moon shone down through the leaves above, flooding the nest with soft, white light.

Jasmine did not speak at once. She made Lief and Barda sit while she brought out berries, fruits, nuts, and the hard shell of some sort of melon filled to the brim with sweet, cool water.

Lief rested, looking around in wonder. Jasmine had few possessions. Some of them — like a broken-toothed comb, a tattered sleeping blanket, an old shawl, two tiny bottles, and a small, carved wooden doll — were sad reminders of the parents she had lost. Others — a belt, two daggers, several flints to make fire, and many gold and silver coins — had come from the bodies of Grey Guards who had been sacrificed to the Wennbar.

Jasmine was carefully dividing the food and drink into five equal parts, setting out Filli’s and Kree’s places as if they were indeed part of her family. Watching her, Lief realized with a shock that her tattered grey clothes had also come from Grey Guards. She had cut and tied the cloth to fit her.

It made him squirm to think of her robbing helpless victims and leaving them to die. He tried to remember that Guards had taken Jasmine’s parents — killed them, probably, or at least enslaved them — and left her alone in this wild forest. But still, her ruthlessness chilled him.

“Eat!”

Jasmine’s voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up as she sat down beside him. “Food will help you to recover,” she said. “And this food is good.” She helped
herself to a strange, pink-colored fruit and bit into it greedily, the juice running down her chin.

I am a fool to judge her, Lief thought. She lives as best she can. And it is thanks to her that we are alive. She put herself in grave danger for us, when she could have turned her back. Now she has brought us to her home and shares her food and drink with us.

He saw that Barda had begun to eat, and he did the same. He had never eaten a stranger meal. Not just because the food was different from what he was used to at home, but because it was being eaten so high above the ground, beneath a white moon, on a platform that swayed gently with every breeze. And because a black bird called Kree and a small, furred creature called Filli shared the meal with him.

“How long have you lived here alone, Jasmine?” he asked at last.

“I was seven years old when the Grey Guards came,” the girl answered, licking her fingers and reaching for another fruit. “They must have come the long way from Del, for the Wenn had not seized them. I was filling the water bags at the stream. My parents were searching for food and carrying it up to our house in the treetops. The Guards saw them and caught them, burned the house, and took them away.”

“But the Guards did not find you?” asked Barda. “How was that?”

“My mother looked back to me and made a sign for me to hide in the ferns and to be silent,” answered
Jasmine. “So I did as I was told. I thought that if I did that, if I was good, my mother and father would come back. But they did not come back.”

Her mouth tightened and turned down at the corners, but she did not cry. Jasmine, thought Lief, had probably not cried for a very long time.

“So you grew up alone, in this Forest?” he asked.

She nodded. “The good trees and the birds helped me,” she said, as though this was the most normal thing in the world. “And I remembered things my parents had taught me. I collected what I could from our old house — what had not been burned. I made this nest and slept in it at night, and so was safe from the things that roam the forest floor in the darkness. And so I have lived ever since.”

“That potion you gave us to help us move again,” said Barda, making a face at the memory. “What was it?”

“My mother made it long ago, from leaves like the ones that grow along the Wenn path,” Jasmine said. “It cured Father when he was stung. I used it on Filli, too, when I found him caught by the Wenn as a baby. That was how he came to live with me, wasn’t it, Filli?”

The little creature nibbling berries beside her chattered in agreement. She grinned, but her smile quickly faded as she turned back to Barda and Lief. “There were only a few drops left when I found you,” she said quietly. “The bottle is empty now.”

“Can you not make more?” asked Barda.

She shook her head. “The Guards’ fire killed the
leaves that grew here in the Forest. The only others are on the Wenn path.”

So, Lief thought. She is unprotected now. Because of us.

“We are deeply grateful, Jasmine,” he murmured. “We owe you our lives.”

She shrugged, brushing the last of the fruit stones from her lap.

“And Deltora owes you a great debt,” Barda added. “For now we can continue our quest.”

Jasmine looked up. “If your quest to the Forests leads you to the place I think it will, you will not survive in any case,” she said bluntly. “I might as well have left you to the Wennbar.”

There was a short, unpleasant silence. Then the girl shrugged again. “But I suppose you will go on, whatever I say,” she sighed, climbing to her feet. “So I will show you the way. Are you ready?”

T
hey traveled through the night, keeping to the treetops, while below them unseen things rustled, growled, and hissed. Their path was winding, because Jasmine would move only through certain trees. “The good trees,” she called them.

Every now and then she would bend her head to the trunk of one such tree and seem to listen. “They tell me what is ahead,” she said, when Barda asked her about this. “They warn me of danger.” And when he raised his eyebrows at her in surprise, she stared back at him as though she did not see why he should not believe her.

She told them little about the place to which she was taking them. She said there was little she could tell.

“I only know that it is in the center of the middle
Forest, the smallest one,” she said. “The birds will not venture into that Forest, but they say that at its heart is an evil, forbidden place. They call this place ‘The Dark.’ It has a terrible Guardian. Those who go there never leave it, and even the trees fear it.”

She turned to Lief, with the ghost of a smile. “Does it not sound like the place you seek?” she asked.

He nodded, and touched his sword for comfort.

Day was breaking when they crossed a small clearing and entered the middle Forest.

The trees hid all but a few rays of the sun here, and there was no sound at all. Not a bird called. Not an insect moved. Even the trees and vines through which they climbed were still, as though no breeze dared to disturb the dim, damp air.

Jasmine had begun to move more slowly and carefully. Filli huddled against her neck, his head hidden in her hair. Kree no longer flew ahead, but hopped and fluttered with them from one branch to the next.

“The trees tell us to go back,” Jasmine whispered. “They say that we will die.”

There was fear in her voice, but she did not stop. Lief and Barda followed her through the thickening Forest, their ears and eyes straining for any sound or sight of danger. Yet there was nothing but green all around them, and the silence was broken only by the sounds of their own movement.

Finally they reached a place where they could go no farther. Heavy, twisting vines criss-crossed and tangled together, smothering the huge trees, making a barrier like a huge, living net. The three companions searched to left and to right, and found that the vine net made a full circle, enclosing whatever was inside.

“It is the center,” breathed Jasmine. She put up her arm to Kree, who flew to her at once.

“We must go down to the ground,” said Barda.

Jasmine shook her head. “There is terrible danger here,” she murmured. “The trees are silent, and will not answer me.”

“Perhaps they are dead,” Lief whispered. “Strangled by the vines.”

Jasmine shook her head again. Her eyes were filled with grief, pity, and anger. “They are not dead. But they are bound. They are prisoners. They are — in torment.”

“Lief, we must go down,” Barda muttered again. Plainly, this talk of trees having feelings made him uncomfortable. He thought Jasmine was more than a little mad. He turned to her. “We thank you for all you have done for us,” he said politely. “But you can do no more. We must go on alone.”

Leaving the girl crouching in the treetops, they began to half-climb, half-slide towards the forest floor. Lief looked up once and caught a glimpse of her. She was still watching them, the raven perched on her arm.
With her other hand she was stroking Filli, sheltering under her hair.

They slipped lower, lower. And suddenly, Lief felt something that made his heart leap with fearful excitement. The steel Belt, hidden beneath his clothes, was warming, tingling on his skin.

“We are in the right place,” he hissed to Barda. “One of the gems is nearby. The Belt feels it.”

He saw Barda’s lips tighten. He thought he knew what the big man was thinking. If the gem was near, a terrible enemy was also near. How much easier, Barda must be thinking, if he were alone, with no one else to think about.

“Do not worry about me,” Lief whispered, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. “Nothing matters but that we seize the gem. If I die in the attempt, it will not be your fault. You must take the Belt from my body and go on alone, as you have always wished.”

Barda glanced at him quickly, and seemed about to reply but then shut his lips and nodded.

They reached the floor of the forest and sank almost knee-deep in dead leaves. Here it was quite dark, and still there was utter silence. Spiderwebs frosted the trunks of the trees, and everywhere fungus clustered in ugly lumps. The air was thick with the smell of damp and decay.

Lief and Barda drew their swords and began slowly to move around the vine-walled circle.

The Belt grew warmer around Lief’s waist. Warmer, warmer … hot! “Soon …” he breathed.

And then he felt Barda clutch his arm.

Before them was an opening in the wall of vines. And standing in the middle of the opening was a hulking, terrifying figure.

It was a knight. A knight in golden battle armor. His breastplate glimmered in the dimness. His helmet was crowned with golden horns. He stood, motionless, on guard, a great sword in his hand. Lief drew a sharp breath when he saw what was set into the sword’s hilt.

A huge, yellow stone. The topaz.

“WHO GOES THERE?”

Lief and Barda froze as the hollow, echoing voice rang out. The knight had not turned his head, had not moved at all. Yet they knew that it was he who had challenged them. They knew, too, that it was useless to refuse to answer, or to try to hide now.

“We are travelers, from the city of Del,” called Barda. “Who is it who wants to know?”

“I am Gorl, guardian of this place and owner of its treasure,” said the hollow voice. “You are trespassers. Go, now, and you may live. Stay, and you will die.”

“It is two against one,” Lief whispered in Barda’s ear. “Surely we can overpower him, if we take him by surprise. We can pretend to leave, and then —”

Gorl’s head slowly turned towards them. Through
the eye-slit of his helmet they could see only blackness. Lief’s spine prickled.

“So, you plot against me,” the voice boomed. “Very well. The choice is made.”

The armor-clad arm lifted and beckoned, and, to his horror, Lief found himself stumbling forward, as though he were being dragged by an invisible string. Desperately he struggled to hold back, but the force that was pulling him was too strong. He heard Barda cursing as he, too, lurched towards the beckoning arm.

Finally they stood before the knight. He towered above them. “Thieves! Fools!” he growled. “You dare to try to steal my treasure. Now you will join the others who have tried, and your bodies will feed my vines, as theirs have done.”

He stepped aside, and Lief stared with fascinated horror through the gap in the vines.

The wall of twisted stems was far thicker than he had realized, made up of hundreds of separate vines locked together. Many, many great trees were held within the vines’ net. The wall must have been gradually thickening for centuries, spreading outward from the center as more and more vines grew, and more and more trees were taken.

High above the ground, the vines reached from treetop to treetop, joining together to form a roof over the small, round space they protected. Only a tiny patch of blue sky could still be seen between the thickening
leaves. Only a few beams of sunlight reached down to show dimly what lay inside the circle.

Ringing the walls, overgrown by gnarled roots, were the ancient, crumbling bodies and bones of countless dead — the knight’s victims, whose bodies had fed the vines. In the center of the circle there was a round patch of thick black mud from which rose three glimmering objects that looked like golden arrows.

“What are they?” Lief gasped.

“You know well what they are, thief,” thundered the knight. “They are the Lilies of Life, the treasures you have come to steal.”

“We have not come to steal them!” Barda exclaimed.

The knight turned his terrible head to look at him. “You lie!” he said. “You want them for yourselves, as I did, long ago. You wish to have their nectar so that you may live forever. But you shall not! I have protected my prize too well.”

He raised his armored fist. “When the Lilies bloom at last, and the nectar flows, only I shall drink of it. Then I shall be ruler of all the seven tribes, for no one will be able to stand against me, and I shall live forever.”

“He is mad,” breathed Barda. “He speaks as though the seven tribes were never united under Adin. As though the kingdom of Deltora has never existed!”

Lief felt sick. “I think — I think he came here before that happened,” he whispered back. “He came here to find these — these Lilies of which he speaks. And they enchanted him. He has been here ever since.”

Gorl lifted his sword. “Move into the circle,” he ordered. “I must kill you there, so that your blood will feed the vines.”

Again they found that their legs would not do their will, but only his. They staggered through the gap in the vines. Gorl followed them, raising his sword.