Lief and Barda drew their swords and began slowly to move around the vine-walled circle.
The Belt grew warmer around Lief’s waist. Warmer, warmer … hot! “Soon …” he breathed.
And then he felt Barda clutch his arm.
Before them was an opening in the wall of vines. And standing in the middle of the opening was a hulking, terrifying figure.
It was a knight. A knight in golden battle armor. His breastplate glimmered in the dimness. His helmet was crowned with golden horns. He stood, motionless, on guard, a great sword in his hand. Lief drew a sharp breath when he saw what was set into the sword’s hilt.
A huge, yellow stone. The topaz.
“WHO GOES THERE?”
Lief and Barda froze as the hollow, echoing voice rang out. The knight had not turned his head, had not moved at all. Yet they knew that it was he who had challenged them. They knew, too, that it was useless to refuse to answer, or to try to hide now.
“We are travelers, from the city of Del,” called Barda. “Who is it who wants to know?”
“I am Gorl, guardian of this place and owner of its treasure,” said the hollow voice. “You are trespassers. Go, now, and you may live. Stay, and you will die.”
“It is two against one,” Lief whispered in Barda’s ear. “Surely we can overpower him, if we take him by surprise. We can pretend to leave, and then —”
Gorl’s head slowly turned towards them. Through the eye-slit of his helmet they could see only blackness. Lief’s spine prickled.
“So, you plot against me,” the voice boomed. “Very well. The choice is made.”
The armor-clad arm lifted and beckoned, and, to his horror, Lief found himself stumbling forward, as though he were being dragged by an invisible string. Desperately he struggled to hold back, but the force that was pulling him was too strong. He heard Barda cursing as he, too, lurched towards the beckoning arm.
Finally they stood before the knight. He towered above them. “Thieves! Fools!” he growled. “You dare to try to steal my treasure. Now you will join the others who have tried, and your bodies will feed my vines, as theirs have done.”
He stepped aside, and Lief stared with fascinated horror through the gap in the vines.
The wall of twisted stems was far thicker than he had realized, made up of hundreds of separate vines locked together. Many, many great trees were held within the vines’ net. The wall must have been gradually thickening for centuries, spreading outward from the center as more and more vines grew, and more and more trees were taken.
High above the ground, the vines reached from treetop to treetop, joining together to form a roof over the small, round space they protected. Only a tiny patch of blue sky could still be seen between the thickening leaves. Only a few beams of sunlight reached down to show dimly what lay inside the circle.
Ringing the walls, overgrown by gnarled roots, were the ancient, crumbling bodies and bones of countless dead — the knight’s victims, whose bodies had fed the vines. In the center of the circle there was a round patch of thick black mud from which rose three glimmering objects that looked like golden arrows.
“What are they?” Lief gasped.
“You know well what they are, thief,” thundered the knight. “They are the Lilies of Life, the treasures you have come to steal.”
“We have not come to steal them!” Barda exclaimed.
The knight turned his terrible head to look at him. “You lie!” he said. “You want them for yourselves, as I did, long ago. You wish to have their nectar so that you may live forever. But you shall not! I have protected my prize too well.”
He raised his armored fist. “When the Lilies bloom at last, and the nectar flows, only I shall drink of it. Then I shall be ruler of all the seven tribes, for no one will be able to stand against me, and I shall live forever.”
“He is mad,” breathed Barda. “He speaks as though the seven tribes were never united under Adin. As though the kingdom of Deltora has never existed!”
Lief felt sick. “I think — I think he came here before that happened,” he whispered back. “He came here to find these — these Lilies of which he speaks. And they enchanted him. He has been here ever since.”
Gorl lifted his sword. “Move into the circle,” he ordered. “I must kill you there, so that your blood will feed the vines.”
Again they found that their legs would not do their will, but only his. They staggered through the gap in the vines. Gorl followed them, raising his sword.
It was dim inside the circle. The golden arrowheads of the budding Lilies were the only glimmer of warm color. Everything else was dark brown, or dull green.
Lief and Barda stood, helpless, before the knight. They could not move. They could not fight or run.
Gorl raised his sword higher.
I must prepare for death, Lief thought. But he could only think of the Belt around his waist. If he was killed here, the Belt would lie forgotten with his bones. The gems would never be restored to it. The heir to the throne of Deltora would never be found. The land would remain under the Shadow forever.
It must not be! he thought wildly. But what can I do?
Then he heard Barda begin to speak.
“You wear the armor of a knight, Gorl,” Barda said. “But you are not a true knight. You do not fight your enemies with honor.”
Are things not bad enough, Barda? thought Lief, in terror. Why do you risk making him even more angry than he is?
But Gorl hesitated, his great sword wavering in his hand. “I must protect the Lilies of Life,” he said sullenly. “I knew my destiny the moment I saw their golden nectar dropping from their petals, long ago.”
“But you were not alone when you saw this, were you, Gorl?” Barda demanded, his voice strong and bold. “You would not have come alone on a quest to the Forests of Silence. You had companions.”
He is trying to turn Gorl’s mind from us, Lief thought, suddenly understanding. He hopes that Gorl’s hold over us will weaken, if he begins to think of other things.
“Gorl, what happened to your companions?” Barda demanded.
The knight’s head jerked aside, as if Barda had dealt him a blow. “My companions — my two brothers — ran towards the Lilies,” he muttered. “And …”
“And you killed them!”
Gorl’s voice rose to a loud, high whine. “I had to do it!” he wailed. “I could not share with them! I needed a whole cup of the nectar for myself. They should have known that.”
He lowered his head and began pacing the circle, mumbling to himself. “While my brothers fought me, trying to save themselves, the Lilies wilted, and the nectar fell to waste in the mud. But I did not despair. The Lilies were mine, and mine alone. All I had to do was wait until they bloomed again.”
Lief’s heart leapt as he felt the iron bands of the knight’s will loosening, letting him move freely again. Barda’s idea was working. Gorl’s mind was now far away from them. He glanced at his companion and saw that Barda was reaching for his sword.
Gorl had his back to them now, and was stroking the leaves and stems of the twisting vines with his armored hand. He seemed almost to have forgotten that anyone was with him. “As the new buds rose from the mud, I raised my wall around them, to protect them from intruders,” he was muttering. “I did my work well. Never would the vines have grown so strong without my care.”
Barda made a silent signal to Lief, and together they began to creep towards Gorl, their swords at the ready. They both knew that they would only have one chance. It could not be a fair fight. They had to take the knight by surprise and kill him, before he could bind them to his will again. Otherwise they were lost, as so many had been lost before them.