I know this is false. Because I, who once wore the silken gloves and velvet tunic of a palace librarian, now scavenge for food in the gutters of Del. I now know what the common people know, and more. I could never have imagined such a future for myself. But I regret nothing.
Perhaps I would never have fled from the palace if the king’s chief advisor, Prandine, had not ordered me to burn The Deltora Annals. The threatened destruction of the Annals, that great, vivid picture of Deltora over the ages, was more than I could bear. And so it was that while pretending to obey Prandine’s order, I saved the Annals and myself.
This book contains material drawn from The Deltora Annals as well as new information I have gained in the past few years. It describes many of the dreadful, mysterious beings that haunt this land. Some of these creatures are as evil and unnatural as their master in the Shadowlands. Others are native to Deltora. All grow stronger every day. Yet the king does nothing to offer his people protection. They hate him for it. But why should he help, since he does not know the monsters exist? None of them are spoken of in the palace except as beasts of legend, dangers of the past.
Books such as this are needed to correct the lies that have become official truth. The people are too busy scraping a living to write down what they know. Writing, in fact, seems almost to have disappeared among them. I fear that lies may one day become the only “facts” available to students, unless people like me act to prevent it.
What the future holds for us, and for Deltora, I cannot say. But when my hopes dim, I take heart in remembering another thing I did before I left the palace. It concerns yet another book — The Belt of Deltora. It is simply written, but full of wisdom. From the day I first found it in the library, I believed that it was of vital importance, and that it contained the keys to Deltora’s future, as well as its past. I kept it hidden, for I knew that if Prandine saw it, it would quietly disappear. I had planned to take it with me, but at the last moment something moved me to change my mind. I hid it, instead, in a dim corner where it would only be discovered by an eager searcher.
I cling to the hope that one day Prince Endon might find it. Even Endon’s friend, young Jarred, might do so, for though Jarred has no great love of books, his wits are keen. He may remember the library if one day he is in urgent need of knowledge. I know in my heart that if Deltora has a future, it lies with these young ones. It would be my joy to know that in some small way I have helped their cause. In faith —
Josef
Writing in the city of Del in the 35th year of the reign of King Alton.
A fearsome being clad in the armor of a Jalis knight, Gorl is said to guard the dark center of Mid Wood, the smallest of the three Forests of Silence. Legend has it that Gorl possesses supernatural strength and has the power to bend others to his will. Suspicious and jealous of his territory, he challenges all intruders, killing without mercy if his warning to flee is ignored. This story of a terrifying knight-presence haunting Mid Wood is an ancient one, having been told since before the joining of the seven tribes. The Deltora Annals contain more than fifty references to Gorl.
These are based only on the tales of travellers. Possibly they are simply reports of nightmarish visions produced by the terror of the Forests. It is interesting to note, however, that in all the accounts the details of the knight do not vary. In addition, the sketches made by those who have claimed to have seen Gorl and escaped with their lives, while varying widely in artistic skill, bear remarkable similarities to one another.
The origin of the Gorl legend, if legend it be, can probably be traced to a Jalis folktale that is even older than the Gorl story itself. It is called “The Tale of the Three Knights,” and is one of the “Tenna Birdsong” stories. It concerns three brothers, Jalis knights, who travelled to the Forests of Silence to seek the fabled Lilies of Life. The brothers at last found their prize, only to begin fighting over it until the two youngest had perished at the hands of their older brother. The names of the slain knights were Greddock and Gudden. Their murdering brother was — Gorl.
Gorl is a common name among the Jalis. But since in the tale the brothers find the Lilies of Life in “the Forests’ dark center,” we may surely guess at a link with the Gorl legend. Whether the link is one of fancy or of truth, who can say? But if it is truth, as this writer suspects, then the magic that has kept the being called Gorl alive and menacing over such ages is dark and powerful indeed.
The Wennbar is a gross beast whose territory is First Wood — the Forest of Silence which is most near to Del. Its slaves are the Wenn, a strange tribe of cold-blooded beings over which it seems to exert complete control.
The Wenn, which themselves eat only the leaves of certain bushes, trap humans and animals that stray into their path so as to provide the Wennbar with the warm flesh it prefers for food. By rubbing their lower legs together they make a high-pitched ringing sound unbearable to the ears of more advanced creatures.
They then sting and paralyze their disabled prey and offer it to the Wennbar as a helpless, living sacrifice.
This partnership between Wenn and Wennbar is mysterious, and does not seem to be an equal one. According to The Deltora Annals, the Wenn worship the Wennbar as a god. The monster’s pleasure at receiving food is their only reward. Its anger when cheated of prey usually means the death of one or more of them. Yet they do not rebel, but glory in their slavery.
Generally slow and heavy in its movements, the Wennbar is said to move extremely quickly when hungry or filled with anger. In addition, its neck, usually hidden in folds of flesh, can rapidly extend to enormous lengths, so that it can snatch creatures from trees and birds from the air.
By all accounts, there has only ever been one Wennbar, and the Wenn have always lived in the bushy grove called Wenn Del that guards the entrance to its territory. Legend has it that every hundred years the Wennbar goes into a deep sleep and, having been bathed in special oils by the Wenn, dies giving birth to several young.
The young fight each other to the death over the motionless body of their parent. The victor is the new Wennbar, destined to be tyrant over the Wenn for the next century.
It was the season for skimmers, and this year more skimmers than ever were coming over the Wall of Weld.
From dusk till dawn, the beasts flapped down through the cloud that shrouded the top of the Wall. They showered on the dark city like giant, pale falling leaves, leathery wings rasping, white eyes gleaming, needle teeth glinting in the dark.
The skimmers came for food. They came to feast on the warm-blooded creatures, animal and human, that lived within the Wall of Weld.
On the orders of the Warden, the usual safety notices had been put up all over the city. Few people bothered to read them, because they were always the same. But this year, in Southwall, where Lisbeth the beekeeper lived with her three sons, they had been covered with disrespectful scrawls.