11 - The Dare

Lief turned away from the parchment and looked down at Josef’s peaceful face. So this is what you were trying to tell me, Josef, he thought. The evil is here, in the palace’s dead heart, the centre of centuries of grief and pain.

Gently he gathered the old man’s body in his arms and lifted it from the platform.

‘Lief, what are you doing?’ Manus cried, very shocked. ‘The platform is vile, yes! But I did not mean—’

But cradling Josef’s frail body, Lief was already walking to the chapel door.

‘Drumm was chief advisor in the time of Doran the Dragonlover, when the Four Sisters were put in place,’ he called back over his shoulder. ‘He caused the platform to be built. The Sister of the South is here, I know it.’

‘But this is not the centre of the palace, Lief!’ Manus exclaimed, trotting anxiously after him. ‘It could not be further to the side!’

He gestured behind him at the far wall of the chapel. ‘That is the palace’s east wall. The Place of Punishment once stood just outside. The Great Hall is above—’

‘I know, Manus,’ Lief said quietly. ‘But still this is the place.’

He carried Josef’s body up the steps and placed it gently on the floor of the entrance hall.

‘But—but you cannot leave him here!’ Manus cried in horror.

‘Better here than where he was,’ Lief said. He turned to go back into the chapel.

‘Lief, wait a little,’ said Manus nervously, plucking at his sleeve. ‘You are pale as a ghost! Your hands are trembling. You—you are not well.’

‘I fear I am not,’ Lief murmured. ‘I do not know how much time I have left. And that is why I must hurry.’

His shadowed eyes focused at last on the Ralad man’s worried face, and he blinked, as if waking from a dream.

‘I am sorry, Manus,’ he said softly. ‘There is no easy way to tell you what I must. I have made a fearful mistake, and all of us will pay for it. There is no poison. The Toran Plague is real.’

Manus took a sharp, hissing breath and clasped his hands over his heart. Lief braced himself for the cries of shock, fear and blame that he knew must come. But the Ralad man bent his head, and when he looked up again, his black eyes were clear and calm.

‘What must I do to help?’ he asked simply.

For a moment Lief could not speak. Then he put his hand on Manus’s arm—so small and thin, and yet so full of strength.

‘What is below the chapel?’ he asked.

‘Why—nothing,’ Manus said. ‘The outside wall runs down beneath the earth, to meet the palace foundations. The inner wall beside us here continues down to form the first wall of the dungeons below the entrance hall. By the plan, there is only empty space in between—a cavern too small and low to be used for anything.’

‘The Enemy found a use for it, it seems,’ Lief said grimly. ‘Now, listen carefully, Manus. Everyone, except those too ill to walk, must leave the palace at once. Tell them it is by order of the king. Tell them to put their masks back on, go down to the city and spread the word that the plague is real. Then go yourself, Manus. Find Doom, Gers and Steven, if you can, and tell them I …’

His throat closed. He struggled to go on, but this time he could not.

‘You have not mentioned Barda and Jasmine,’ Manus said quietly. ‘They are here, in the palace. Do you really think that they will leave “by order of the king”?’

Lief gave a twisted smile. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘If they are still able to come to me they will, whatever I say. We will stand together against the Enemy, one last time.’

Manus nodded, his eyes very bright, and darted away without another word.

Lief put his fingers on the topaz once more and silently, insistently, called to the golden dragon.

The top of the platform was a smooth slab of marble bordered by a raised band carved in swirling patterns. Lief wondered if it could be removed. He put his shoulder to the slab and pushed. The slab did not budge.

‘You will not shift it that way,’ boomed a familiar voice. Lief looked around to see Barda striding towards him, with Jasmine by his side. Over his shoulder the big man carried the vast iron bar from the entrance doors, as easily as he might carry a log of wood for the fire.

‘Jasmine and I met at the bottom of the stairs,’ Barda said, lifting the bar from his shoulder with a grunt and moving to the side of the platform. ‘She had just been talking to Manus, and was coming here, so I thought I would join her.’

Jasmine took Lief’s arm. ‘The birds are all well,’ she said. ‘They, at least, were poisoned, and the emerald worked to a marvel. Oh, Lief, it gives me such joy to know that they will live to fly again.’

Very moved, Lief looked down at her. She was smiling.

Barda eyed the platform and nodded. ‘It seems to me that brute force would best serve our purpose here,’ he said. ‘It is not an elegant way to solve a problem, but sometimes it is better to cut through a knot than to waste time trying to untie it. More satisfying too, on occasion.’

He tapped the side of the platform with the end of the bar. ‘It sounds hollow,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Move the candles aside, my friends. We need room to move.’

‘Barda—’ Lief choked, as Jasmine began pushing the nearest candle holders away.

But Barda shook his head. ‘What Lindal did not tell me when I met her upstairs, Jasmine told me just now,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘We both know all there is to know, Lief, and there is no more to be said. Let us do what we are here to do, while we are able.’

He stood back a little and aimed the bar so that it pointed directly at the centre of the platform’s side.

‘Stand behind me, Lief, and take hold of the bar. We are going to use it as a battering ram.’

Speechless, Lief did as he was told.

‘When I give the signal, thrust the bar forward with all your strength,’ Barda instructed. ‘Jasmine, keep your head down, and Filli out of sight. Splinters of marble may fly.’

He drew the bar back. ‘Ready … NOW!’

Lief lunged forward. The end of the bar smashed into the side of the platform with a clanging jolt. The shock of the impact jarred Lief’s arms and ran all the way to his jaw.

‘Again,’ roared Barda, pulling the bar back. ‘Put some muscle into it! Ready … NOW!’

Again the bar hurtled forward, striking the marble with a fearful crash. There was the sound of falling stone and Jasmine gave a shout of triumph.

Eagerly, Lief craned his neck to see.

The platform’s side was cracked, and a chunk of marble had fallen away near the centre, leaving a small, jagged black hole.

‘That is what we want!’ growled Barda. He settled his mighty hands on the bar once more. ‘Ready, Lief … NOW!’

The end of the bar battered straight into the weakened spot. A huge piece of marble broke away and fell, smashing on the ground.

‘And again!’ Barda roared.

Again they lunged forward. And this time, when they drew back, the ground at their feet was heaped with smashed marble, the air was full of dust, and most of the platform’s side was nothing but a gaping black hole.

They let the bar fall. It crashed to the ground with a dull, ringing sound. Barda bent forward, his hands on his knees, panting.

Lief’s hands were slippery with sweat. Sweat was dripping into his eyes and soaking his hair. He wiped his brow dazedly with the sleeve of his jacket, and realised that his hands were trembling.

The black hole loomed before him, dark as pitch, gaping like the entrance of a tomb. He could see nothing inside it. Fear twisted in his stomach.

Jasmine pushed a candle into his hand. The flame wavered dangerously as he bent in front of the hole. Holding his breath, he thrust the candle forward …

Except for a scattering of broken marble, the cavity was completely empty.

‘There is nothing here,’ Lief called, his voice echoing eerily against the marble walls. ‘There is nothing—’

The candle fell from his shaking hand. It rolled twice and then lay still on the base of the cavity. Its struggling flame flickered on the flat, grey stone that lay beneath the rubble of broken marble.

Lief’s mouth went dry. He crouched, grasped the dying candle and swept it from side to side, clearing the chips of marble away.

‘On the floor,’ he said in a low voice.

Barda and Jasmine knelt beside him, each holding a fresh candle. By the flickering light they all read the words on the stone—words still as sharp and clear as the day they were carved.

Lief felt his face grow hot with fury. A wave of trembling sickness swept through him and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass. He did not know if the sickness was caused by the evil of the stone or by the Toran Plague. It did not matter. All that mattered were the sneering words on the stone—the words of the Shadow Lord, meant for him, only for him.

‘This verse is not like the verses on the stones in the east, north and west,’ Jasmine muttered, putting Lief’s raging thoughts into words. ‘Those others were true warnings, intended for the eyes of any passing stranger. This is—personal.’

‘Indeed,’ Lief said thickly. ‘It is a dare. The Enemy is daring me to look beneath the stone. As once he dared me to look for the first part of the map.’

He remembered the voice of the Shadow Lord, hissing through the crystal.

… this king will never find it. I dare him to try, and go more quickly to his death …

But I did find the first part of the map, and I did not die, Lief thought. Then I found the second part, and the third, and the last. And I am still here.

But he knew that the Enemy had planned for this, too. The message on the stone proved it.

Plans within plans …

‘Smash the evil, sneering thing,’ Jasmine muttered. ‘Smash it to pieces!’

‘Stand aside,’ Barda said grimly, getting to his feet and reaching for the iron bar.

Lief and Jasmine scrambled out of his way.

And Barda, teeth bared in a snarl of hatred, smashed the end of the iron bar down on the warning stone. He struck once, twice … and on the third stroke there was a sharp crack and a brilliant flash of white light.

Barda staggered back, his hands pressed to his eyes. The heavy bar fell, clanging, to the ground. Cracks ran crazily over the stone till the whole flat, carved surface was a maze of black lines. Then, suddenly, the shattered stone fell away, fell with a sound like thundering hail. And all that was left in its place was a yawning pit from which evil poured like a thick, vile smell.

Jasmine cried out and covered her face. Lief fell to his knees and stared. His eyes were watering, but he could not look away.

For down in the centre of the darkness something gleamed—something as beautiful and beckoning as one of the gems on the Belt of Deltora.

The Sister of the South.