Deltora Quest #5: Dread Mountain (7 page)

T
hey pushed deep into the trees and crouched together in a tight circle, their shields held up around them like a wall. The sound of gruff singing and feet marching in time grew louder. Yet there was no noise of cracking branches or of weapons slashing at spiny leaves, and the marching feet did not hesitate as they passed by somewhere just out of sight.

“There must be a road nearby,” Barda breathed.

As the singing began to fade away into the distance, the companions crept from their hiding place and began forcing a path in the direction from which the sound had come. Sure enough, in a short time they found themselves standing on a narrow track that wound away towards the top. It was so overhung with tree branches that it was like a tunnel.

Lief groaned. “We might have known that the gnomes would keep at least one path clear. No doubt this trail leads all the way from the bottom of the Mountain to the top! If only we had found it before!”

“That troop of gnomes must have been at the bottom of the Mountain before the storm struck,” Barda said. “I wonder what business they had there? Bad business, I suspect, for the only thing at the Mountain’s base is the road to the Shadowlands.”

“But the gnomes are not friends of the Grey Guards,” squeaked Prin, speaking up for the first time since they heard the sound of marching feet. “They hate them, and plague them with evil tricks. Mother told me about it often. Those skulls by the gnome-rest — they are probably Guards’ skulls.”

“Many years have passed since your mother lived on Dread Mountain, Prin,” Lief said gently. “Now the gnomes are allies of the Shadow Lord.”

Prin shook her head, but perhaps the last few days had helped her to grow up a little, because she did not go on arguing, insisting that she was right. Instead she simply gripped her shield more firmly and followed as the companions began the long climb towards the Mountain top.

The sun was going down and it was growing very cold when finally they reached the end of the road. The climb had been hard, but without trouble of any kind. Not a
single gnome had crossed their path. And now, as they peered cautiously around the last bend, they could see no sign of life or movement. All was utterly still.

“Where are they hiding? Be ready. We may be walking into a trap,” muttered Barda. But nothing stirred, and no arrows flew, as they began to cross the cleared space beyond the road, looking up at the towering cliff of rock that now barred their way.

There were no trees here. The earth on which they walked was bare, white chalky stuff, packed hard by the tread of feet, littered with discarded arrows. The top of the Mountain, hidden in swirling clouds, was still high above their heads.

Jasmine summoned Kree to her shoulder and drew her dagger. “It is some sort of trick,” she whispered. “The gnomes we heard could not have disappeared. And the others — the ones who shot at us when we landed — were here. Somewhere, they are waiting.”

The cliff rose dark and ominous before them. At first they could see nothing odd about it except for a few small holes dotted over its surface. But as soon as they drew close enough, they saw where the gnomes had gone.

There was a narrow door in the cliff, carved from solid rock. It was dark at the top, light at the bottom. No attempt had been made to disguise it — in fact, the larger pale section had been decorated with grooved lines, and at one side there was a round stone doorknob
which had a deep carving in the shape of an arrow in its center. But the knob would not turn, and pull and push as they would, the door would not open.

“Gnome tricks!” growled Barda, running his fingers over the stone and pressing vainly here and there.

“Why do you want to get in?” Prin whispered nervously. “Surely this is the gnomes’ stronghold. Where they eat and sleep. And where they keep their treasure.”

“Exactly,” Barda frowned, still testing the stone.

“The decorations are only on the bottom part of the door, the light part,” said Lief. “That may be a clue.”

He moved very close to the cliff and peered at the seemingly empty space at the top of the door. The dark, uneven rock blurred before his eyes, but he was sure he could make out marks that were not natural.

“There is something carved here,” he muttered. “Words, I think. But they are so small, and the rock is so dark, that I cannot make them out.”

He pulled his cloak and his shirt aside to uncover the Belt of Deltora and noticed at once that the ruby’s rich red had faded to dull pink — a sign that danger threatened. I do not need warning of that, he thought grimly. I know only too well that we are going into danger.

His fingers moved towards the topaz. It had sharpened his wits before. Perhaps it would help him now.

But before he had even touched the gem an idea came to him. He bent, scraped up a handful of the white dust beneath his feet, and smeared it over the dark rock. Then he brushed the loose dust away. The dust that remained caught in the carved letters made them show quite clearly:

“This rhyme is very childish,” frowned Jasmine. “It reminds me of rhymes my father taught me when I was very young. And it was not difficult to make the words visible. These gnomes are not so clever.”

“They are careless too,” said Barda, picking up an arrow from the ground. “If arrows are keys to their door, they should not leave them lying around. And as for finding the arrow’s mate upon the gate …”

He dug the point of the arrow into the carving on the doorknob. The arrow slid into place easily, like a key slipping into a lock. As Barda had suspected, there was a keyhole at the bottom of the carving. Gripping the shaft of the arrow firmly, he turned it until there was a slight but definite click.

“It is unlocked. Shall we go in?” he asked, turning to his companions and drawing his sword.

“No!” Prin begged, unable to keep silent any longer. “You say the gnomes are not clever, but they are, they are! They love tricks and traps. This is their door. If we use it we will die. I know it!”

“We must enter the stronghold, Prin,” said Lief firmly. “The gnomes have something hidden here that we must find. But you need not enter with us. You can return to the path and keep watch.”

He drew his own sword and nodded to Barda, who began to push firmly on the door. With a harsh, grating sound, the great piece of stone began to swing inward.

And just then Lief thought he heard, from somewhere high above them, a muffled giggle. He grasped Barda’s arm and held it. “Wait!” he hissed.

Jasmine had heard the sound too. She was looking up, peering intently at the cliff face. “There is no one to be seen,” she whispered. “But I am sure I heard someone laugh.”

“It was a birdcall, perhaps,” said Barda. He stood, undecided, his hand still on the door.

Kree squawked.

“It was not a bird,” Jasmine said flatly. “It was someone laughing. At us.”

They stood in tense silence for a moment, listening. But once again the Mountain was utterly still, as though it was waiting.

Barda shrugged, grasped his sword more tightly, and pushed the door again. The grating sound grew louder as the slab of rock moved inward. A narrow gap appeared between the door and the cliff wall. From somewhere beyond the gap, light flickered.

Jasmine peered through the crack. “I can see no one,” she murmured. “Beyond the door there is a small room, with a passage leading from it. It is the passage that is lit.”

She looked around at them, her small face full of defiance, her dagger glinting in her hand. “I think we should enter,” she said grimly. “Then whoever is laughing at us may wish they had kept silence.” She put her shoulder against the door and pushed to open it
further. Then she turned to Lief. “Are you coming?” she demanded.

Lief stepped forward. But at the same moment Prin bounded in front of him. “No!” she begged. “No, Lief! You at least must not!” Taken by surprise, Lief stumbled, lost his footing, and fell heavily.

He lay on the ground, dazed, staring up at the door. The grooved lines, tall on the pale stone, seemed to shimmer above him. Then — then, to his astonishment, he suddenly saw them for what they were.

Words. The lines were words. He blinked, hardly believing what he was seeing. But it was true. The letters had been stretched tall and narrowed so much that he had not realized they were any more than decoration. But looking at them from below, he could read what they said.

IF YOU WISH TO DIE.

“Lief, I am sorry …” Prin was bending over him anxiously.

Barda was staring at them, his hand on the stone. But Jasmine, shaking her head impatiently, was stepping through the door.

“Jasmine —” Lief spluttered, scrambling to his feet. “Do not go in. Jasmine! It is a trap!”

He leaped forward, catching Jasmine by the wrist just as, with a cry, she plunged into the pit that yawned beyond the door.

J
asmine swung helplessly, Lief’s grip on her wrist the only thing that was saving her from crashing to the bottom of the trap into which she had stumbled.

The pit was deep, but still Lief could see a white glimmer at the bottom. His stomach turned over as he realized they were bones — the bones of other intruders, no doubt. The gnomes had probably been watching through peepholes in the rock as the companions tried to open the door. One had laughed aloud, believing that there were about to be three more victims of the deadly joke. Lief gritted his teeth in anger.

Then Barda was kneeling beside him, and together they were lifting Jasmine up, swinging her to safety.

“We must do the opposite of what the verse says,” said Lief. “We must pull the door, not push it, if we are to enter safely.”

They pulled the door until it clicked shut. Then they unlocked it with the arrow once more, and pulled again. Sure enough, the huge piece of stone grated as easily outward as it had inward.

Barda picked up a few arrows and threw them into the darkness where the pit had been. They clanged on metal.

“It is as I thought,” said Lief. “The pit is usually covered. It is only when the door is pushed inward that the cover slides away.”

“A devilish device,” growled Barda. “If you and I had not hesitated, Lief —”

“I
told
you the gnomes were clever,” Prin broke in. “They are clever, hate strangers, and love cruel jokes. We must be very, very careful. If they are still watching, they know their trick has failed. They will try something else.”

This time no one argued with her.

They entered the door, tapping the earth in front of them with their shields to check it for safety, listening for any sound of movement. But all was silence. Ahead was the long tunnel they had seen from the entrance.

Their faces ghostly in the light of the flickering torches, they began to creep along the tunnel. Only Jasmine and Prin could stand upright, and even they had to bend their heads. Soon the tunnel turned sharply, and almost at once turned again. Then they came to a place where it split into three. One passage led to the left, one led to the right, and one led straight ahead.

“Which way?” whispered Lief.

“There is no way of telling which path is safest,” growled Barda. “But I think we should take the one that goes straight ahead. It has a higher ceiling than the others. If we take either of the other two, I will have to crawl.”

They moved on. Still there was utter silence. They saw that just ahead the tunnel once again took a sharp right turn.

“Perhaps, after all, the gnomes think we are in the pit,” said Jasmine in a low voice, as they moved around the corner into dimmer light.

“Perhaps,” Barda answered grimly. “But I would not depend upon it. I think —”

He broke off and halted abruptly. There were some shadowy figures ahead, blocking their path. Barda and Lief raised their swords. An answering glint showed that their opponents were also armed, and by their shape carried shields also.

“Dread Gnomes, we come in peace,” Barda called. “We ask only that you listen to what we have to say. We will put down our weapons if you also will disarm.”

There was no answering call, and no movement except for the gleam of steel.

“We must not let them think we are afraid,” Jasmine whispered, and slowly the companions began to move forward again. The figures moved also, coming to meet them, matching them stride for stride.

“Why do you not answer?” Barda called again. “Do you want to fight? If so, we are ready and willing.” He quickened his pace. Lief and Jasmine strode after him. Shuffling behind them, trying to keep up, Prin gave a muffled whimper of fear.

In moments the figures were almost upon them, still shadowy, but looming large. They are much bigger than we expected. And there are four of them, Lief thought, tightening his grip on his sword.

Hand-to-hand combat. He had not expected this. But he was ready. He lifted his shield. One of his opponents did the same. And suddenly, suddenly Lief saw …

“Barda, it is a mirror! A mirror fixed to a wall!” he shouted. “This tunnel is a dead end!” A chill ran through his body as he heard a clicking sound behind him. He spun around, stumbling over Prin, trying to push past her, trying to get to the metal door that was sliding from the roof of the tunnel at her back.

But it was too late. By the time he reached it, the metal door was sealed shut. They were trapped. They were locked in an airless cell. A cell as escape-proof as a tomb.

Hours later, they stood huddled together in thick darkness. They had put out the torch that was fixed to the wall. It was burning air they could not afford to lose.

“There must be a way out,” Lief insisted. “There must!” He was swaying with weariness.

“The gnomes will come, surely,” muttered Barda. “To jeer at us, if for no other reason. For what is the point of a joke no one laughs at? That will be our chance, for if they can get in, we can certainly get out.”

Jasmine nodded. “We must be ready for them. We must have a plan. But when will they come? And how? If only we knew!”

“If we were at home, we could dream them,” said a small voice behind them.

They all turned. They had almost forgotten about Prin. She crouched in a corner, her eyes enormous with fear, her paws clasped tightly in front of her.

“If we were at home with my tribe, we could drink the spring water, and remember the gnomes, and dream of them, wherever they are,” she repeated softly. “We have seen them. Seen their faces …” Her voice trailed away and she began shivering all over. She heard Lief exclaim, and covered her face in shame.

“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I have never been in walls before. I do not like it.”

Filli chattered anxiously. Jasmine moved to Prin’s side and put her arm around her. “Do not be ashamed,” she murmured. “I too fear being locked up. I fear it more than anything.”

“You are very tired, little Kin,” said Barda, with rough gentleness. “Lie down and sleep now. You can dream even without the spring water.”

“But
with
it, how much more useful the dreams will be!” Lief burst out. As they all glanced at him
curiously he grinned and held up his water bottle. “Do you not remember? I confess that I did not, until Prin reminded me just now. We have drunk from streams ever since we left the Kin. Our bottles are still full — with water from the Dreaming Spring!”

Out of the mists of Lief’s sleep, the dream slowly came into focus. Flickering light, dancing colors, a dull murmuring, the shuffling of many feet, clinking, chinking sounds … And one huge voice, terrifyingly loud, shockingly harsh, echoing, echoing … “MORE! GIVE ME MORE!”

Lief opened his eyes fully, stared, revolted, at the nightmare before him, and staggered back to press himself against the rocky wall. I am dreaming, he reminded himself wildly. Dreaming! I am here only in spirit. It cannot see me!

But still his heart thudded and his stomach churned. Whatever he had expected when he lay down to sleep, it was not this!

He had expected to see a cavern, though not so huge. The roof of this enormous space soared, surely, to the top of the Mountain.

He had expected to see treasure, though not in such great quantities. Great, glittering mounds of gold and jewels filled the cavern from wall to wall, rising into hills and dropping into valleys like the dunes of the Shifting Sands.

He had expected to see the gnomes he had seen on
the mountaintop, though he had not thought to see them crawling, scuttling, shrinking, and afraid.

But the giant mass of lumpy, oozing flesh that squatted in the center of the cavern, its wicked eyes glazed with greed, its slimy clawed feet spread carelessly over tumbled gems and heaps of gold — this was something he had not expected. Not in his wildest imaginings.

It was a vast, toadlike beast. The hidden horror of Dread Mountain.