Read Online Deltora Quest #8: Return to Deltora by Emily Rodda - Free Book Online
Authors: Emily Rodda
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forehead. One of his eyes was swelling and darkening. But still he held the torch high, sweeping it from side to side so that great shadows leaped around the walls.
Lief saw Ailsa, curled on the floor like a great stone; Gla-Thon, staggering from among the remains of the table that had held the belt; Doom, his face smeared with blood; Zeean clutching Manus for support; Jasmine murmuring to Filli. The door was torn from its hinges. The opening was blocked by a mass of collapsed wood and rubble …
And Dain was gone. His dagger was lying on the floor where he had dropped it. Dazed, Lief walked over to it. Then he bent and picked it up. The tip of the blade was stained with blood. Dain had tried to fight his attacker. But he had stood no chance.
Sliding the dagger into his belt, Lief thought of the moment he had hesitated before handing over the Belt of Deltora. Perhaps if he had not given in to that feeling of reluctance — if he had passed the Belt to Dain at once — none of this would have happened. Dain would have been safe. They would all have been safe.
Sick with pain and guilt, he looked down at his hands, and his stomach lurched as he realized he was no longer holding the Belt. He looked around wildly, then realized that, of course, he must have dropped it onBarda’s chest when he fell against the bed. It was safe there, covered in blankets. He would get it in a moment. When his head had stopped spinning. When he could breathe properly again. When this sickness passed.
He slid to the ground and crouched there, like a wounded animal.
“Dain has been taken!” Fardeep was whispering.
“It was a creature of darkness that did the deed,” snarled Glock. “I saw it, as it burst in. A wolf — huge — with a yellow mouth. Then, it changed to a fiend. Even larger. And slimy red, like blood!”
A terrible thought came to Lief’s mind. He wet his lips, afraid to put it into words.
Glock’s eyes narrowed. He pointed a stubby finger at Lief. “You know something!” he growled. “I see it in your face. What was this thing?”
The words caught in Lief’s throat as he spoke. “It sounds — like …”
“Like the last and most wicked of all the sorceress Thaegan’s children,” Doom finished for him. “The only one of that foul brood that still prowls the northeast. Ichabod.”
“We have been betrayed,” hissed Gla-Thon.
Glock bared his teeth and glared around the room. His eyes fixed on Manus. “You came from the northeast, Ralad man,” he snarled, clenching his fists. “You led the monster here! Admit it!”
Quaking, too shocked and afraid to speak, Manus shook his head. Nanion of D’Or moved to stand besidehim. “If we were followed, we were unaware of it,” he said sternly. “Keep your insults to yourself, Jalis.”
“Do … not … fight.” The words were soft, mumbled. But they broke the angry silence like a shout. For it was Barda who had spoken — Barda, struggling to sit up, to look around him. Jasmine shrieked piercingly and flew to his side, her hair wildly tangled, her small face pale in the glow of the lantern she had coaxed to life.
“Fighting … will profit us nothing!” Barda said, his voice growing stronger.
“It is a miracle!” Zeean breathed, staring.
It is the Belt, Lief thought. The Belt. It must be.
But already Doom was striding towards the door. “We must dig our way out of this place and give chase,” he snapped. “Every moment we delay means that Dain is closer to death!”
“He is dead already,” Glock growled. “The monster will by now have torn him limb from limb.”
Doom’s head jerked up, as though he had just remembered something. “Where is Steven?” he asked sharply.
In the silence that followed, they heard a faint sound. A scratching sound, coming from the rubble that blocked the doorway.
“Steven!” Doom shouted.
“Yes!” a voice answered weakly. “I am here. Trapped. The building collapsed upon us as we tried to give chase. Even
Lief saw Ailsa, curled on the floor like a great stone; Gla-Thon, staggering from among the remains of the table that had held the belt; Doom, his face smeared with blood; Zeean clutching Manus for support; Jasmine murmuring to Filli. The door was torn from its hinges. The opening was blocked by a mass of collapsed wood and rubble …
And Dain was gone. His dagger was lying on the floor where he had dropped it. Dazed, Lief walked over to it. Then he bent and picked it up. The tip of the blade was stained with blood. Dain had tried to fight his attacker. But he had stood no chance.
Sliding the dagger into his belt, Lief thought of the moment he had hesitated before handing over the Belt of Deltora. Perhaps if he had not given in to that feeling of reluctance — if he had passed the Belt to Dain at once — none of this would have happened. Dain would have been safe. They would all have been safe.
Sick with pain and guilt, he looked down at his hands, and his stomach lurched as he realized he was no longer holding the Belt. He looked around wildly, then realized that, of course, he must have dropped it onBarda’s chest when he fell against the bed. It was safe there, covered in blankets. He would get it in a moment. When his head had stopped spinning. When he could breathe properly again. When this sickness passed.
He slid to the ground and crouched there, like a wounded animal.
“Dain has been taken!” Fardeep was whispering.
“It was a creature of darkness that did the deed,” snarled Glock. “I saw it, as it burst in. A wolf — huge — with a yellow mouth. Then, it changed to a fiend. Even larger. And slimy red, like blood!”
A terrible thought came to Lief’s mind. He wet his lips, afraid to put it into words.
Glock’s eyes narrowed. He pointed a stubby finger at Lief. “You know something!” he growled. “I see it in your face. What was this thing?”
The words caught in Lief’s throat as he spoke. “It sounds — like …”
“Like the last and most wicked of all the sorceress Thaegan’s children,” Doom finished for him. “The only one of that foul brood that still prowls the northeast. Ichabod.”
“We have been betrayed,” hissed Gla-Thon.
Glock bared his teeth and glared around the room. His eyes fixed on Manus. “You came from the northeast, Ralad man,” he snarled, clenching his fists. “You led the monster here! Admit it!”
Quaking, too shocked and afraid to speak, Manus shook his head. Nanion of D’Or moved to stand besidehim. “If we were followed, we were unaware of it,” he said sternly. “Keep your insults to yourself, Jalis.”
“Do … not … fight.” The words were soft, mumbled. But they broke the angry silence like a shout. For it was Barda who had spoken — Barda, struggling to sit up, to look around him. Jasmine shrieked piercingly and flew to his side, her hair wildly tangled, her small face pale in the glow of the lantern she had coaxed to life.
“Fighting … will profit us nothing!” Barda said, his voice growing stronger.
“It is a miracle!” Zeean breathed, staring.
It is the Belt, Lief thought. The Belt. It must be.
But already Doom was striding towards the door. “We must dig our way out of this place and give chase,” he snapped. “Every moment we delay means that Dain is closer to death!”
“He is dead already,” Glock growled. “The monster will by now have torn him limb from limb.”
Doom’s head jerked up, as though he had just remembered something. “Where is Steven?” he asked sharply.
In the silence that followed, they heard a faint sound. A scratching sound, coming from the rubble that blocked the doorway.
“Steven!” Doom shouted.
“Yes!” a voice answered weakly. “I am here. Trapped. The building collapsed upon us as we tried to give chase. Even
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