Deltora Quest #3: City of the Rats (6 page)

O
ne thought burned in Lief’s mind more strongly than all the rest. Some terrible danger really did lurk within the darkness of the Hole. Otherwise Reece would not be smiling so triumphantly as he drove his prisoners towards it.

Barda and Jasmine had plainly come to the same conclusion. Jasmine was shrieking, vainly tearing at the Ra-Kacharz’ thick garments with her nails. Barda was struggling to hold his ground, his arms wrapped around his head to protect it.

The leather whip flicked viciously around Lief’s ears. He staggered back, turning away, the stinging pain bringing tears to his eyes. Again the whip cracked, and now the warm blood was running down his neck and shoulders. The blackness of the Hole yawned just in front of him …

Then there was a dull, ringing thump. And suddenly there was no more cracking of the whip, no more stinging pain.

Lief spun around.

Tira was standing over Reece’s crumpled body. The kitchen door gaped wide behind her. Her eyes were glazed with fear. In her left hand she clutched the companions’ weapons. In her right was the frying pan she had snatched from the kitchen shelf and used to hit Reece over the head.

With a gasp of horror at what she had done, she threw the pan violently away from her. It struck the stones with a ringing crash.

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine raced to the girl’s side and took their weapons from her. She seemed paralyzed with shock. She had sprung to their defense without thinking, but plainly in attacking a Ra-Kachar she had committed a terrible crime.

“Barda!” hissed Jasmine urgently. She pointed. The handle of the red door was turning.

Barda flung himself against the door and leaned against it with all his strength. Jasmine added her weight to his. An angry thumping began and the door shuddered.

“Run, Tira!” hissed Lief. “Go! Forget this ever happened.”

She stared at him, wild-eyed. He hurried her towards the kitchen door, pushed her through, and shot
the bolt behind her. Now the Ra-Kacharz trying to beat their way through the red door would have no help from the people in the kitchen, and, with luck, Tira would be able to reach the stairs and climb to the walkway unseen.

He spun around again just in time to see Barda and Jasmine knocked sprawling and the red door flying open. He sprang to his friends’ aid, and, at the same moment, three Ra-Kacharz charged through the opening. Though they had been roused from sleep, they were fully dressed in their red suits, gloves, and boots, and their heads and faces were covered.

Their eyes were already burning with rage as they burst into the little room. But when they saw their leader lying on the floor, and the three prisoners standing over him, they roared and lunged forward, cracking their whips without mercy.

Barda, Lief, and Jasmine were driven back, their blades slashing uselessly at the empty air. Lief cried out in frustration as a whip curled around his sword and tore it out of his hand.

Now he was helpless. In moments he heard with horror the sound of Barda’s sword, too, clattering to the ground. Now Jasmine’s two daggers were their only defense. But the Ra-Kacharz were pushing forward, driving them into a corner, the lashing whips whirling together in the air like a terrible, cutting machine.

“Stop!” cried Jasmine piercingly. “We mean you no harm! We want only to leave this place!”

Her voice echoed against the stone walls, soaring above the cracking of the whips. The Ra-Kacharz did not falter. They made no sign that they had even heard.

But someone had heard. Through the red door hurtled a scrap of grey fur, chattering and squeaking with joy.

“Filli!” exclaimed Jasmine.

The Ra-Kacharz shouted in horror and disgust, lurching out of the way as the little animal scuttled between them, leaping for Jasmine’s shoulder.

It was just a moment’s distraction, but it was all that Barda needed. With a roar he hurled himself at the two nearest red-clad figures, throwing them against the wall with all his strength. Their heads hit the stones and they slumped together to the ground.

Lief twisted and kicked at the third Ra-Kachar, feeling his foot connect with the leg just above the boot. The man howled and stumbled. Lief snatched up the frying pan and felled him with a single blow.

Panting above the bodies of their fallen enemies, the friends glanced over to where Jasmine stood, crooning to Filli.

“Filli saved us,” Jasmine said happily. “How brave he is! He was lost, but he heard my voice and came running to me. Poor Filli. He has been so afraid, and in such danger!”

“
He
has been afraid and in danger!” exploded Barda. “And what of us?”

But Jasmine simply shrugged and went back to stroking Filli’s fur.

“What are we to do now?” muttered Lief. “There are four Ra-Kacharz here, counting Reece. And we know that there are two in the kitchens. But three of the Nine are still missing. Where are they? Where should we go for safety?”

“We must take our chances with the tunnel,” said Barda grimly, looking around for his sword. “There is no other way out for us.”

Lief glanced at the Hole. “Reece thought that whatever is in there would kill us,” he said.

“If the Ra-Kacharz can survive it, so can we,” snapped Barda. “They are strong, and good fighters, but they do not have magic powers.”

“We should put on their garments,” said Jasmine from her place by the wall. “Surely it is not by chance that they dress differently from the others in this place, and it is only they who can use the Hole. Perhaps the creature that dwells in the darkness is trained to attack all colors but red.”

Barda nodded slowly. “It could be. In any case, to wear the Ra-Kacharz garments is a good idea,” he said. “Our own clothes mark us as strangers. We could never bluff our way out of the city through the front entrance. But perhaps the back way …”

They wasted no more time, but began to strip the three Ra-Kacharz they had just defeated. Jasmine was quick and deft at the work. Lief could not help
remembering, with a chill, how many times she had stripped the bodies of Grey Guards in the Forests of Silence. She had done it to obtain clothes and other things she needed, and she had done it efficiently and without a moment’s pity, as she was doing now.

They dressed quickly, pulling the red garments over their own clothes, the boots over their own shoes. The Ra-Kacharz lay still. Tight white underclothes covered them from wrist to ankle. Their heads, like those of the other people in the city, were shaved bald.

“They do not look so dangerous now,” said Jasmine grimly, winding red cloth around her head and making sure that Filli was buttoned securely under the collar of her clothes.

Despite his haste and worry, Lief had to smile as he glanced at her. She looked very strange. The Ra-Kacharz garments were too big for him and even for Barda, but on Jasmine they hung in vast, baggy folds. The gloves were not a problem, for they were made of a clinging material that fitted all sizes. But he doubted that she would be able to walk in the huge red boots.

Jasmine had thought of that. Carrying the boots in her hand, she ran over to where Reece lay. She pulled off his gloves, crumpled them, and stuffed them into the toe of one boot. Then she unwound the cloth that bound his head and face and used it in the second boot.

Reece mumbled, his shaven head rolling on the hard floor.

“He is waking,” Jasmine said, pulling on the boots. She drew the dagger from her belt.

“Do not kill him!” exclaimed Lief in panic.

Jasmine glanced at him in surprise. “Why not?” she demanded. “He would kill me, if our places were reversed. And when he was attacking you, you would have killed him, if you could.”

Lief could not explain. He knew she would never agree that to kill in the heat of the moment, in defense of your life, was very different from killing a man, even an enemy, in cold blood.

But Barda had suddenly exclaimed, striding to Jasmine’s side. He crouched beside Reece’s body. “Look at this!” he muttered, pushing the man’s head to one side.

Lief knelt beside him. On the side of Reece’s neck was the ugly scar of an old burn. The scar was in a shape he knew only too well.

“He has been branded,” he hissed, looking at the dull red mark with horror. “Branded with the mark of
the Shadow Lord. Yet he lives here, free and powerful. What does this mean?”

“It means that things in Noradz are not what they seem,” said Barda grimly. Quickly he moved to the bodies of the other Ra-Kacharz. The Shadow Lord’s brand was on every one.

They looked up sharply as the handle of the door that led into the kitchen shook and rattled. There was a loud knock. Someone was trying to get in.

“Another inspection must have been completed,” muttered Jasmine. “The cooks have a bin of food to throw away.”

Finding that their way was barred, the people behind the door began shouting and thumping with their fists. Reece mumbled and groaned. His eyelids fluttered. He was about to wake.

Barda sprang to his feet. “We will take him with us. We will force him to tell us how to save ourselves from whatever is inside the passage. And, in any case, a hostage will be useful.”

Hastily they pulled their packs onto their backs and dragged Reece to the Hole entrance. They pushed him into the darkness. Then, one by one, they crawled after him. There was no time, now, to think of what might await them below.

L
ief slithered cautiously down the slope, holding Reece’s ankles with one gloved hand, and with the other catching at the sides and roof of the passage to stop himself from moving too quickly. It was not easy, for the rock was covered with a thin layer of fungus that slipped and smeared under his fingers. Gradually the passage narrowed until it was just wide enough for one of the big bins to move through without sticking.

Lief’s pack kept catching on the roof. With a shout of warning to Barda, who was behind him, he wriggled till the straps slipped from his shoulders, and let himself slide away from underneath the bag. He knew that it would keep moving after him. The slope had become steeper, and it was all he could do to stop himself from slipping down out of control.

Other things had changed, too. The growling was louder, a ceaseless rumbling that seemed to fill Lief’s ears and his mind. It was harder to hold Reece, who was still not quite awake, but was starting to move his legs, to catch at the walls with his hands, and to raise his head so that now and then it grazed the roof of the tunnel.

And there was light below — a faint glow, too yellow to be moonlight. It quickly grew brighter and Lief realized that he was reaching the bottom of the slope, that the passage was about to level out.

“Be ready!” he shouted to Barda and Jasmine. And almost at the same moment, without warning, Reece’s body began to writhe and twist. He shrieked and kicked. His ankles slipped from Lief’s grasp and he slid away, downward towards the light. Gasping with shock, Lief saw his jerking body reach the bottom of the slope.

But it did not stop. Somehow, it kept moving.

Thinking of nothing but keeping his enemy in sight, Lief let go of the walls and let himself slide down the last part of the slope. In moments he had reached level ground.

Ahead of him the passage broadened. Light glowed softly from the roof. The rumbling sound was all about him. The ground beneath him was no longer the smooth, hard rock of the tunnel, but something softer, lumpier — something that trembled slightly under his hands …
and that moved! Like Reece, he was being carried on — and the ground itself was carrying him!

The red-clad figure was crawling a little further ahead. Lief picked himself up and ran towards it, covering the distance in seconds. He jumped for the writhing man, wrestling with him, trying to hold him still.

Their rolling, struggling bodies hit the wall at the side of the passage. Lief felt rough earth beneath him. Rough earth that did not rumble or move. Reece arched his back, cried out, and lay still.

Then Lief realized two things. The center of the passage was a moving path, driven by some unseen machinery. And Reece was dead. Horribly dead. Lief gazed down at the terrible face, and shuddered, remembering Tira’s description of others who had tried to escape through the Hole.

He heard a shout and saw Barda and Jasmine running towards him down the pathway, looming out of the darkness with amazing speed.

“Jump off to the side!” Lief called. “The moving strip is only in the center!”

They did as he told them, stumbling as their feet hit solid ground. When they reached his side, and saw Reece’s body, they gasped in horror.

“What — what has happened to him?” muttered Barda, shuddering.

The palms of the man’s hands, and the top of his shaved skull, were smeared with red fungus, and
hideously blistered. Foam flecked his lips. His face was blue, twisted into a grimace of agony.

“Poison!” breathed Jasmine. She looked feverishly around her. “In the Forests of Silence there is a spider whose bite can —”

“There are no spiders here,” Lief broke in, his stomach churning. His finger shook slightly as he pointed to the dead man’s head and hands. “The fungus in the passage — I think — I think one touch on bare skin is deadly. We dragged Reece to his death. He woke, and saw where he was. But already it was too late.”

Sickened, they looked down at the crumpled body. “I did not know,” Jasmine said, defiantly, at last. “I did not know that to take his gloves and the wrapping from his head would kill him!”

“Of course you did not,” said Barda quietly. “How could you? Only the Ra-Kacharz know that it is their gloves and head-coverings that allow them to enter the Hole and live.” He grimaced. “Our clothes are smeared all over with the fungus. How will we be able to take them off in safety?”

Lief had been thinking about that.

“I think that the poison is only deadly when it is fresh,” he muttered, looking down at his own gloved hands. “I do not see how, otherwise, the Ra-Kacharz could go among their people without harming them.”

Barda shrugged. “I pray that you are right.”

There was a soft sound behind them. They spun around and saw the gleaming shape of one of the silver drums sliding down the Hole and coming to rest on the moving pathway. It settled gently and began to come towards them.

“I closed the grille after us, hoping that the cooks would not realize that we had escaped into the Hole,” said Jasmine. “It seems they have not.”

“Not yet,” said Barda grimly. “But once the Ra-Kacharz’ sleeping quarters have been searched, they will know there was nowhere else for us to go. We must find the way out quickly. If we follow this tunnel, I believe we will find ourselves on the other side of the hill.”

Leaving Reece’s body where it lay, they jumped back onto the moving pathway and began running along it, soon leaving the silver drum far behind them.

They had not been travelling for long when they saw a gleam ahead of them, felt fresh air on their faces, and heard the sound of clangs and voices. They jumped from the moving pathway again and began creeping along beside it, flattening themselves against the tunnel wall.

It grew lighter. The voices grew louder. There were strange, snuffling sounds, too — sounds that seemed familiar to Lief, though he could not place them. And then, all at once, he saw a gateway ahead. The moving pathway stopped just in front of it, and a small cluster of the silver bins stood in the opening like guards. Beyond
them Lief could see the shapes of trees, and grey sky. A night bird called. It was nearly dawn.

As he watched, three tall figures strode into view. Each lifted one of the bins, and carried it out of sight.

“They were Ra-Kacharz!” hissed Jasmine. “Did you see?”

Lief nodded in puzzlement. So the three missing Ra-Kacharz were here. What were they doing with the waste food? And what was that snuffling sound? He had definitely heard it before. But where?

The three companions crept forward, keeping low and close to the wall, craning their necks to see through the gateway. But when at last the scene outside lay before their eyes, they stopped dead, gaping with astonishment.

The Ra-Kacharz were lifting the bins onto a cart, carefully packing straw between them so they would not rattle together. Two other carts stood waiting, already fully loaded. And snuffling happily between the shafts of each cart was — a muddlet!

“They are taking the bins away! And they are using our muddlets to do it!” Lief whispered.

Jasmine shook her head. “I do not think they are our beasts,” she breathed. “They look very like them, but their color patches are in different places.” She peered around the corner of the gateway and stiffened. “There is a whole field of muddlets just over there,” she hissed. “There must be twenty of them!”

Barda shook his head. “Our beasts are probably
among them,” he said grimly. “But they can stay there. I would not ride a muddlet again if my life depended upon it.”

“Well, our lives
do
depend on our getting away from here as fast as we can,” muttered Jasmine. “What do you think we should do?”

Barda and Lief exchanged glances. The same thought was in both their minds.

“The straw between the bins is deep,” said Lief. “We could hide in it well enough, I think.”

Barda nodded. “So, history will repeat itself, Lief.” He grinned. “We will escape from here in the same way your father escaped from the palace in Del as a boy. In a rubbish cart!”

“But what of Kree?” Jasmine whispered. “How will he know where I am?”

As if in answer to her question, there was a screech from one of the trees. Jasmine’s face brightened.

“He is here!” she hissed.

At that moment the Ra-Kacharz came back to carry away more bins and the companions moved out of sight. But as soon as the red-clad figures had staggered away with their huge burdens, three shadows darted from the shelter of the gateway and climbed into one of the loaded carts. One of them signalled at the trees as she burrowed under the straw between the bins, and a bird cried out in answer.

The friends lay cramped, still, and hidden while the Ra-Kacharz finished their work.

“Was that the last?” they heard a familiar voice ask. It was the woman who had spoken for them at the trial.

“It seems so,” said another voice. “I had thought there would be more. There must be a problem in the kitchens. But we can wait no longer, or we will be late.”

Late? Lief thought, suddenly alert. Late for what?

There was a creaking sound as the Ra-Kacharz climbed into the carts. Then three voices cried, “Brix!” and with a jolt the carts started to move.

Lying under the straw, the three companions could see nothing but patches of grey sky, and, now and then, the shape of Kree flying high above them. If the Ra-Kacharz thought it strange that a raven should be flying before dawn, they said nothing. Perhaps, Lief thought, they did not even notice Kree, so intent were they on urging the muddlets to greater speed.

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine had planned to jump from the cart when they were a safe distance from the city. But they had not counted upon their cart being in the middle of the three. And they had not counted upon the speed of the muddlets.

The carts jolted and bounced upon the rough roads, and the countryside flew by. Even dragging heavy loads, the beasts galloped amazingly fast. It was plain that any attempt to jump would lead to injury and capture.

“We will have to wait until the carts stop,” whispered Jasmine. “Surely they cannot be going far.”

But the minutes stretched into hours, and dawn had broken, before finally the carts slowed and jolted to
a halt. And when, sleepy and confused, Lief peered cautiously through the straw to see where they were, his stomach seemed to turn over.

They were back at Tom’s shop. And marching towards them was a troop of Grey Guards.