Deltora Quest #7: The Valley of the Lost (6 page)

T
he mist swirled about them as they walked. Ferns and vines brushed their legs and faces. Shadows flickered at the edge of their vision. The valley’s people were watching, but not daring to come near.

In front of them strode the Guardian, straight-backed and tall.

“If this Guardian is taking us to his cave, or hut, or wherever he lives, so much the better,” whispered Jasmine. “That will be where he keeps —”

She broke off, glancing at Neridah, who tossed her head angrily. “I know about the great diamond!” she said, in a high voice. “Why do you think I followed you here? For the sake of your fine company?”

She stared fearfully at the Guardian’s back. “I thought you would be bound to succeed, no matter who else had failed,” she went on, her voice trembling. “I did
not dream that you would have us captured and helpless within moments of setting foot in the valley!”

“We have been captured before, and saved ourselves,” hissed Jasmine. “We will do it again. We still have our weapons.”

“He spoke of games,” Lief said slowly. “He likes games. What do you think he means?”

Barda grimaced. “Nothing pleasant, in any case. But surely it proves, at least, that he is a man, not an Ol or some other beast in human shape. It is humans who like games.”

“And if he is only a man we can defeat him, for all his magic,” said Jasmine. “Defeat him, and take the gem. We have only to wait, and learn his weaknesses.”

Lief hesitated. He, too, believed that the Guardian was human beneath the trappings of his magic power. But he was not so sure that this would make their task any easier. And something was still nagging at his memory. Something that made his skin prickle with warning whenever he thought of the diamond.

They walked for what seemed a long time, crossing a deep stream and moving at last into a clearing. Abruptly, the Guardian stopped and held up his hand. Lights began to glow through the mist. As the companions drew closer, they saw that the lights were shining inside a domed glass palace.

Mist tumbled outside the glass walls, shining eerily in the reflected light. Hundreds of shadowy grey figures
shuffled in the haze. But within the palace, rich colors glowed. The many rooms were full of fine furniture, bright rugs and paintings, gold and silver statues, silken cushions and hangings. The whole glittered like a jewel.

The Guardian had stood aside so that his prisoners could better see the palace’s wonder. Now he smiled proudly at their astonished faces.

“A dwelling fit for a king, you will agree,” he said.

When none of them answered him, his smile disappeared and a scowl took its place.

“We will go inside,” he snapped. “Perhaps that will loosen your tongues and make you more agreeable.” He tugged the cords that he held in his hands and four shapes lumbered from behind him, out of the mist.

Lief heard Neridah gasp. And indeed his own breath caught in his throat as he saw the creatures emerging from the swirling grey.

Hairless, gross, and misshapen, covered in sores and boils, twisted arms hanging almost to the ground, the monsters grinned and slobbered as they stared at the prisoners. The rubbery cords that bound them to their master coiled from puffy red centers in the backs of their necks. Sickened, Lief realized that the cords were part of them. Flesh of their flesh.

“Here are my pets — my companions,” said the Guardian. “I have kept them hidden until now, not wishing to alarm you. But you will learn to love them, as I have done. Perhaps you already do so, though you do not know it. They are fine, strong monsters, are they not?
They protect me, and keep me company. Their names are Pride, Envy, Hate, and Greed.”

As he spoke, he lightly flicked the monsters on the head one by one. The moment it felt his touch, each creature swayed and groaned with pleasure.

The Guardian smiled. “Their names are a little joke of mine,” he said. “For though each has one of the faults I have mentioned, none has that fault after which it is named. Greed is not greedy, Pride is not proud, Envy is not envious. Hate is not envious, either, not at all. But more important, it has never hated in its life. You see? Is that not amusing?”

Again receiving no reply, he turned and walked to a door set into one of the palace walls. The door swung open and he stood back.

Lief, Barda, Jasmine, and Neridah at once found themselves moving to the door. In a moment they were inside the palace, and the Guardian was following. The monsters crowded after him, grunting, their leads flopping horribly from their necks. In the crush, three of them began to snarl and claw at one another.

Their master barked an angry command, kicking out at them savagely. When at last they had quietened, he turned back to the companions.

“Like children, my pets sometimes do not agree, and need a firm hand,” he said smoothly. “The envious one and the proud one are both very afraid of Greed. But they will fight if they have to. For, after all, they are linked together and cannot escape.”

The door swung shut with a soft click.

Lief looked around, blinking in the bright light. The room they had entered was vast, and furnished with every luxury. A fountain splashed and sparkled in its center. Velvet cushions lay in heaps upon the shining floor. Soft music played, though Lief could not see where the sound was coming from.

At one end of the room was a long table draped in a white cloth and gleaming with silver and crystal. Long white candles burned in exquisite candlesticks among dishes full of steaming, fragrant food.

Five places had been laid. Two on each side of the table, one at the head.

The Guardian rubbed his hands with a dry, rasping sound. “So — now we are alone,” he said. “Now we can enjoy each other’s company. Fine food and drink. Music. Conversation. And, later, perhaps, the game.”

The food looked and smelled delicious, but to the companions it tasted like dust and ashes, and they ate little. They spoke little, too, for it was clear from the beginning that what their host wanted was not a conversation, but an audience.

His voice flowed on as he sat at the head of the table, his hideous pets squatting behind his chair. The leads, Lief saw, were attached to his wrists, no doubt by bands hidden under his sleeves. This way, his hands could be free while the beasts remained under his control.

“I was born to great riches, but through the wickedness and envy of others I lost everything,” he said, pouring golden wine into a crystal goblet. “I was driven out of my home. No one would raise a hand to help me. Alone, grieving, despairing, and despised, I took refuge in this valley. My only companions at first were the birds and other small creatures. But —”

“There are no birds or small creatures in this valley,” Jasmine broke in. “Or none that I have seen.”

The Guardian glanced at her under his eyebrows, plainly annoyed by the interruption. “They have gone,” he snapped. “They had no place here once I was transformed, and the valley became the Valley of the Lost.”

He leaned forward, his red eyes gleaming hotly in the candlelight. “Do you not want to know how this miracle occurred?” he demanded. “Do you not want to know how I, an outcast, gained new wealth, a new kingdom, and powers a thousand times greater than those I had lost?”

He did not wait for them to answer, but continued as though there had been no interruption.

“A voice spoke to me as I sat grieving. It whispered to me night and day. It reminded me of how I had been wronged. Of how I had been betrayed. Of what I had lost. I thought at first that it would make me mad. But then — then …”

The gleaming eyes grew glazed. And when he spoke again, it was as if he had forgotten the visitors
were with him. It was as if he was telling himself the story — a story he had told many, many times before.

“Then I saw the answer,” he muttered. “I saw that light had betrayed me, but darkness would give me strength. I saw that all through my life I had been following the wrong path. I saw that evil would succeed where good had failed. And then I accepted evil. I welcomed it into my heart. And so I was reborn — as the Guardian.”

Abruptly, his eyes lost their glazed look and focused on the strangers around his table. He noted the rigid and unsmiling faces, the almost untouched plates.

“Why do you not eat?” he snapped. “Do you mean to insult me?”

Lief looked through the wall nearest the table. Half hidden by mist, a mass of longing, haggard faces pressed against the glass.

“Do not mind them,” smiled the Guardian, waving a casual hand at the crowd. “My subjects do not eat or drink. They are beyond such ordinary concerns of the flesh. It is your warm life they long for.”

Jasmine, Barda, and Neridah stiffened even further. Lief wet his lips, shuddering inwardly as he remembered the dry, grey fingers stroking him. “Do you mean — they are the spirits of the dead?” he choked.

The Guardian seemed to bristle with indignation, and behind him the monsters stirred and growled. “Spirits of the dead?” he snorted. “Would I rule a kingdom of the dead? My subjects are very much alive, oh
yes, and will be till the end of time. They waste away, they fade, but they do not age or die. They will live here, in my domain, forever. That is their reward.”

“Their
reward
?” Neridah burst out. Her hands were trembling as she pushed away her plate.

The Guardian nodded, smoothing his beard thoughtfully. “A rich reward indeed, is it not?” he murmured. “Though I fear they are ungrateful. They do not appreciate their good fortune.”

Lief forced himself to speak. “How did they earn their reward?” he asked.

“Ah …” The Guardian stretched with satisfaction. Plainly, this was the question he had been waiting for.

“The first of my subjects, the largest number, came to me in a great wind, the pride that had caused their fall still fresh within them,” he murmured. “Others, like you, filled with envy and greed, have come since. To seek to win from me my most precious treasure. The symbol of my power. The great diamond, from the Belt of Deltora.”

L
ief did not dare look at his friends, or at Neridah. He gripped the arms of his chair till his knuckles grew white, in the effort not to show what he was feeling.

But clearly the Guardian was not deceived. He smiled around the table, his red eyes greedily drinking in the expressions on the faces of his guests. Then he took the last few scraps from his plate and carelessly tossed them to the floor. The four monsters scrambled after the food, each fighting savagely for a share. He watched with a smile.

“Envy once nearly killed the greedy one at a dinner such as this,” he commented idly, as the tumult at last died down. “Ah well.”

Slowly, he pushed back his chair and stood up, the misshapen creatures shuffling and drooling behind him.
“And now it is time for the game,” he said. “The time I love the best. Come with me.”

He had no need to ask them. Their feet followed him, whether they wished it or not, as he swept through one gleaming space after another, the monsters following him closely.

At last they reached a room that was plainly where he spent most of his time. Deep red curtains covered the walls, screening out the mist and the other rooms. Fine drawings and paintings, and a huge mirror in a carved frame, hung from the fabric.

On the floor was a rug rich in flowers, fruits, and birds, with a picture of a humble hermit repeated at each end. One of the Guardian’s little jokes, thought Lief. Nowhere else in this valley would simple, beautiful living things be found. Upon the rug, in front of a couch heaped with cushions, stood a low table scattered with books. Hundreds more books packed shelves towering around the walls.

The Guardian did not pause, but walked straight across the room and pulled aside the curtain to reveal a glass door set into one wall. He did not open the door, but stepped aside and, with a wave of his arm, invited the companions to look through to the space beyond.

It was a small room that contained only a glass table set exactly in its center. On the table was a golden casket.

“The gem you seek is in that casket,” said the Guardian. His voice trembled. Plainly, he could hardly contain his gleeful excitement. “Whoever matches wits with me and wins can enter the room and take the prize.”

Lief pressed himself against the glass of the door. The Belt of Deltora warmed faintly against his skin, proof that the Guardian spoke the truth. The great diamond was in that room. The Belt could feel it.

Barda pushed at the door with his shoulder, but it did not move.

Again the Guardian cackled. “No force can unlock this door. It is sealed by magic, and so it will remain, until you have won the right to open it. So — will you play?”

“Do we have a choice?” Jasmine muttered.

The Guardian raised his eyebrows. “Why, of course!” he exclaimed. “If you so wish, you can leave here now, empty-handed. Turn your backs on the gem you came to find. Go back where you came from! I will not stop you.”

Lief, Barda, and Jasmine glanced at one another.

“If we win the game and enter the room, the diamond is ours to keep?” Lief wanted to make absolutely sure. “You will allow us to leave the valley, taking our prize with us? You swear this?”

“Certainly!” said the Guardian. “That is the rule. Your prize will be yours to keep.”

“And if we fail?” Barda asked abruptly. “What then?”

The Guardian spread his hands. The fleshy leads swung free from his wrists and the monsters stirred behind him. “Then — why, then,
you
are
mine
to keep. Then you will remain here, like all the others who have chosen to match wits with me. You will become part of the Valley of the Lost. Forever.”

The companions stood motionless beside the door. Outside the small room where the casket lay, despairing grey hands brushed the glass through billowing mist.

“Will you accept the challenge?” murmured the Guardian. His eyes burned like hot coals as he waited for their answer.

“We need to know more before we decide,” said Barda evenly.

But Neridah was shaking her head. “
I
do not need to know more!” she exclaimed. “
I
have already decided. These three can do what they wish, but I will play no game!”

The Guardian bowed, though the corner of his mouth twitched with scorn. “Then you may go, lady,” he said, carelessly waving his arm.

Neridah staggered as the spell that had bound her was broken. She backed away, then turned and ran from the room without looking back.

The Guardian sighed. “A pity,” he muttered. “I thought she, of all of you, would find the diamond’s lure impossible to resist. Perhaps, even now, she will change her mind and return. The smell of greed and envy is strong on her.”

He turned to the creatures at his heels and petted them, one by one. “
You
sensed it keenly, did you not, my sweets?” he crooned. The monsters grunted and snuffled agreement, rubbing their bloated faces adoringly against his hands.

Without bothering to turn around, he flicked a finger in the companions’ direction. With relief they felt their invisible bonds relax. Suddenly they could move freely.

The Guardian strolled to the mirror and began looking at himself with appreciation, smoothing his beard and smiling. Lief’s fingers itched to reach for his sword, to attack. But he knew, as Barda and Jasmine did, that it would be no use. Hate, Greed, Pride, and Envy were facing them, jagged teeth bared. At a single warning sound the Guardian would turn and cast another spell — a spell even more powerful, perhaps, than the last.

“It is time for me to sleep,” he said at last, turning away from the mirror with a yawn. “Unlike my subjects, I still have these needs of the flesh. What more do you wish to know?”

He is sure that we long for the diamond, Lief thought. He felt our need, as we looked at the casket. Still — his need is great, too. He pretends he does not care, but he dearly wants us to play his game. His pride drives him to prove himself more powerful and clever than we are, to crush and defeat us. That is his weakness.

“We cannot make up our minds to play unless we know more about the game,” Jasmine said loudly. “What is it? How is it played?”

The Guardian frowned, hesitating.

“You
want
us to play, do you not?” Lief urged. “And we — we want the diamond, I confess. But we would be fools to endanger our freedom blindly. We need to know that it is
possible
to win.”

The Guardian’s eyes narrowed. “Of course it is possible!” he snapped. “Do you accuse me of cheating?”

“No,” said Lief. “But some games are matters of chance, and luck.
Your
game may be one of these. And if so —”

“Mine is not a game of chance!” shouted the Guardian. “It is a battle of wits!”

“Then prove it,” Barda said quietly. “Tell us what we must do.”

The Guardian thought for a moment. Then he smiled. “It seems that you are to be worthy players,” he said. “Very well. I will tell you. All you must do is find out one word. The word that will unlock the door. And that word is — my true name.”

The companions stared at him in silence. Of all the things they might have expected, this was the last.

The Guardian nodded with satisfaction, well pleased by their surprise. “The clues to the riddle are in this palace,” he added teasingly. “And the first, hidden in this very room!”

Barda straightened his shoulders. “We would be grateful for some time alone to discuss our decision, sir,” he said, using his most polite and formal voice.

“Certainly!” The Guardian bowed. “I am a very reasonable man, and will allow you that courtesy. But I pray you, do not try my patience. I will return in a short time, and then I must have your answer.”

Gathering his creatures’ leads in his hands, he turned and left them.