All at once, Lief was very angry. With Barda for seeing his fear, with himself for showing that fear, and, most of all, with the unknown enemy who had so craftily hidden the warning sign.
“You do not have to guard my safety any longer, Barda,” he said loudly, kicking at the dead leaves. “A short cut is too precious to waste. We are prepared for trouble, now. We will watch for danger as we go.”
“Very well,” said Barda, turning away. “As you wish.” His voice was as calm and level as always. Lief could not tell if he was pleased or sorry.
They turned to the right, crossed the little bridge, and went on. The road twisted, narrowed, and became darker. Tall, thick bushes lined it on both sides. Their leaves were large, smooth, and stiff, with strange, pale veins showing almost white against the dark green.
They had not gone far before the back of Lief’s neck began to prickle. He turned his head slightly and, from the corner of his eye, caught a glimpse of something gleaming through the leaves. It was a pair of red eyes, glinting in the moonlight. Controlling his urge to shout, he touched Barda’s arm.
“I see them,” Barda muttered. “Draw your sword, but keep walking. Look to the front. Be ready.”
Lief did as he was told, his whole body tingling with alarm. He saw another pair of eyes, and another. And soon it seemed that the whole path was lined with burning points of light. But still there was no sound.
He gritted his teeth. The hand that held the sword was slippery with sweat. “What are they? What are they waiting for?” he hissed to Barda.
As he spoke something skittered across the road behind him. He swung around just in time to see a creature disappearing into the bushes — a bent, pale, scuttling thing that seemed all legs and arms. His skin crawled.
“Look ahead!” hissed Barda, furiously dragging on his arm to make him move again. “Didn’t I tell you —”
And then the humming began.
The sound was soft, at first. It came from all around them, filling the air — a high, whining hum, as if a great swarm of flying insects had suddenly invaded the road.
But no insects were to be seen. Only the dark green of the leaves. And the eyes, watching. And the sound, which grew louder and louder with every step they took, so that soon their heads were filled with it, and their ears began to ache and ring.
And still the sound rose — high, piercing, unbearable. Desperate to shut it out, they clapped their hands to their ears and bent their heads against it, walking fast, faster — breaking into a run. Their feet thudded on the endless path, their breath came hard and panting, their hearts beat like thunder. But they were aware of nothing — nothing but the pain of the sound that rose and rose, piercing their brains, driving out every thought.
They ran, weaving and stumbling, desperate to escape it. But there was no escape. They cried out for help. But they could not even hear their own voices. Finally they fell, exhausted, to lie writhing, helpless in the dust.
The sound rose to an agonizing wail of triumph. The leaves thrashed and rustled. A host of pale, lanky creatures with hot red eyes scuttled towards them.
And, in moments, they were covered.
Lief woke slowly, with no idea of where he was, or how much time had passed. There was a dull ringing in his ears. His throat was raw. Every muscle in his body was aching.
I am alive, he thought, with dull surprise. How is it that I am alive?
He struggled to think, though his brain seemed clouded by a thick fog.
The last he remembered was running with Barda along the Wenn Del path, his head almost bursting with sound. After that there was only blankness.
Or was there? He seemed to remember a dream. A dream of needle-sharp, stinging pains all over his body. A dream of being poked and prodded by thin, hard fingers. A dream of being carried, jolting, on bony shoulders. A dream of shrill tittering and muttering, while night turned into day and day to night again.
A terrible dream. But … had it been a dream? Or had it been real? Had it all been real?
He was lying on his back. Light slanted through branches high above him. It is day now, then, Lief thought drowsily. Late afternoon, by the look of it. But which afternoon? How long have I been unconscious? And where am I?
He heard a groan nearby. He tried to turn his head. And it was only then that he realized that he could not move.
Panic seized him. He tried to lift his hands, move his feet. But he could not even twitch a finger.
How could they have bound me so completely? he thought stupidly.
And slowly, horribly the answer came to him. He was not tied up at all. His body was simply refusing to move at his will.
“What — has happened?” he cried aloud in terror.
“They stung us — as wasps sting caterpillars, as spiders sting flies.” Barda’s voice was thick and slow, but Lief recognized it. He realized that it was Barda who had groaned. Barda was lying near to him. Barda was as helpless as he was.
“The creatures have paralyzed us so that we still live, but cannot move,” Barda’s voice went on. “They will be back, and then they will feast.”
Again he groaned. “We were fools to ignore the warning sign. I am to blame. I could not imagine a weapon we could not fight. But that sound! No one could stand against it. I cannot understand why the Guards in Del did not speak of it.”
“Perhaps they did not know. Perhaps no one who has ever heard the sound has lived to tell of it,” said Lief.
“Lief — I have led you to your death!”
Lief licked his dry lips. “It is not your fault. We took the road together. And we are not dead yet! Barda — where are we?”
The answer came even more slowly than before, and when it came it filled Lief’s heart with dread. “They carried us a long way,” Barda said weakly. “I think — I think we are in the Forests of Silence.”
Lief closed his eyes, trying to fight the wave of despair that was sweeping over him. And then a thought came to him.
“Why?” he asked. “Why bring us here, to a place so far from their home?”
“Because,” called a new voice, “you are too great a prize for the Wenn alone. They have brought you as an offering for their god. The Wennbar likes fresh meat. It will come when the sun goes down.”
There was a rustle from the tree above. And, as lightly as a butterfly, a wild-haired girl landed on the ground right beside Lief’s head.
A stounded, Lief blinked up at the girl. She was about his own age, elfin-faced, with black hair, slanting black brows, and green eyes. She was dressed in ragged grey clothes that seemed strangely familiar. She was bending over him, unfastening the ties of his cloak.
“Thank heavens you have come!” he whispered.
“This will be useful, Filli,” the girl said.
With a shock, Lief realized that she was not speaking to him, but to a small, furry, wide-eyed creature that was clinging to her shoulder.
“How lucky that we came this way today,” she went on. “If we had left it until tomorrow the cloth would have been quite spoiled.”
With a single push of her slim, sun-browned arm, she rolled Lief onto his side so that she could pull the cloak from beneath him. Then she let him roll back and stood up, the cloak draped carelessly over her arm.
A harsh cry came from overhead. Lief raised his eyes and saw a black bird, a raven, perched in the tree from which the girl had leapt. Its head on one side, it was watching them carefully with one sharp yellow eye.
The girl grinned and held up the cloak. “See what I have found, Kree!” she called. “A fine new blanket for the nest. But we are coming back now. Do not fear.”