Chapter Text
Lief massaged his forehead slowly, trying to abate the throbbing pain radiating from it. Piles of books surrounded him in his private library, some lying half-open with scribbled notes written in the margins. This was how the new king had been spending his nights, poring over every annal of Deltoran history, looking for answers to the never ending stream of issues that threatened to sweep him and his kingdom away.
The Shadow Lord had been driven out of Deltora, a miraculous, incredible, momentous achievement, but though the master had left his evil remained. The land was dying, a long slow poisonous death. Crops wilted, fish rotted, and insects and vermin ravaged whatever was left. The people were starving, thirsty, poor, and desperate. Lief’s honeymoon period as king was well and truly over- and then there were grumblings in the Northwest; the Dread Gnomes wanted their gemstone back, believing it would bring prosperity to their territory.
Lief wasn’t surprised that these murmurs- these rebellious whispers- had originated from the tribe closest in proximity to the Shadowlands; that was how the Shadow Lord’s evil worked. It was a plague, a miasmic haze that gnawed away at the mind, moulding, influencing, ensnaring. Those whispers were everywhere now, the Mere, the Plains…even in Tora. Lief had received increasingly despairing updates from those still loyal to him inside the magical city. A new hierarchy had emerged, they too preaching that the amethyst would be best protected, and best utilised, in the hands of Torans.
Even in his own city of Del there was unrest. The Shadow Lord had taken a great many slaves over the years back to the Shadowlands, and then a great many more during his retreat. There was talk of retribution, of raising an army, killing the Shadow Lord, and freeing the people and land once and for all. This was, of course, sheer lunacy. The economy was in complete ruins. Del had no resources to produce weapons or armour, barely enough men to form a Royal Guard, and most importantly of all they couldn’t risk the Belt of Deltora falling into the hands of the enemy, not again.
This had been the cause of countless arguments early on in Lief’s reign. When confronted with the knowledge that so many Deltorans were captive in the Shadowlands, Lief’s natural reaction had been to fight. It is what he had done his whole life, it is how he had won the country back, it had to be the answer. A great debate had broken out amongst all of Lief’s allies, and despite the back and forward the same reality always emerged: Lief had no heir and was too precious to gamble on another quest.
Lief had ultimately accepted the advice of his senior allies, however in the following days he’d had his heart broken when Jasmine walked out. She was furious at Lief’s indecisiveness, his “cowardice”, as she put it. He never saw her again. Barda supported him, stiffly, mechanically, as a loyal soldier is trained to do towards his king. Lief wasn’t sure that was much better than what Jasmine had done.
Doom had eventually disappeared, much like Jasmine did, albeit with less fanfare. Those of the Resistance that remained in Del confided in Lief that he was wandering the countryside, trying to rid Deltora of evil the only way he knew how: vigilante violence.
This whole game was rigged against him; Lief couldn’t help but remember his experiences playing Beat the Bird in Rithmere. You get a glimmer of hope, sold this idea that you can win, but it’s all an illusion; every path leads to the same end. You struggle and die, or you struggle and succeed and die, or you just die. The Shadow Lord wins every way, he’s just waiting for the wheel to stop spinning.
Lief yawned and reached for the next book. He was looking for answers in the only spare time he had, the time when he should be sleeping. From sunrise to sunset he heard the complaints of his people, determined not to shut himself off from their problems. He ruled on things like property disputes and the repayment of debts, but most of his day was spent hopelessly listening to their unsolvable plights. Maybe being seen and heard by the king gave them some small satisfaction, at least Lief hoped it did, because without revenue, without an army, and without resources, he was king in name only.
As if to disagree with this sentiment, the Belt warmed against his skin. A powerful magical artefact, and the visible symbol of his kingship; Lief ran his fingers over its seven stones, the diamond, the emerald, the lapis lazuli, the topaz, the opal, the ruby, and the amethyst. Each had enhanced his abilities on his quest, and together they were strong enough to banish the Shadow Lord, however none of them procured food or water out of thin air.
Lief’s fingers lingered near the opal, his least favourite of the seven. He did not enjoy glimpses of the future, the concept of destiny filled him with the same dread as Beat the Bird- that he was but a puppet on strings, dancing to someone else’s tune. On the other hand, things couldn’t get much worse, so why not have a look?
Lief’s fingers hovered over the opal, hesitantly, but just as he was about to touch it a black shadow flew in the open window. Startled, Lief leapt off his chair and drew his sword, however immediately lowered it and grimaced. The messenger raven sat on his desk, head cocked in a confused manner, leg outstretched ready to have the attached scroll taken.
Lief clumsily untied the scroll, waves of tiredness crashing over him, and the bird hopped a few times before flying back out the window. The message was short, but it took a few seconds for it to register- it was like the cogs and gears had jammed inside of his head. The words blurred in and out of focus before finally their meaning, and the urgency of the situation, hit Lief all at once.
Torans on their way to Del to take back the amethyst. I am ahead of them but only just. Meet
me by the docks at sunrise.
- Zeean
It was civil war. Tears stung Lief’s eyes as he ripped up the scroll. He had run out of time. Down the spiral staircase and across the great hall, Lief ran, fastening his mother’s cloak as he went. Through years of practice he was barely making a sound, the only person who would’ve heard him was long gone. He missed her every day.
Lief continued on, out the front gate of the castle and into the streets of Del. He needn’t worry about his own guards, they didn’t have the manpower to station lookouts anymore. As he went he wondered what Zeean’s plan was- she clearly hadn’t any time when writing her message, and the Toran magic would make their journey a quick one. A cramping, wrenching, feeling stabbed at Lief’s stomach. This new hierarchy would not take no for an answer.
Lief had first heard of these younger insurrectionists shortly after taking the throne, they wanted a return to Tora’s isolationist ways pre-Adin. To them, Deltora was a fake construct, a nasty deal concocted by Del and the other tribes to rob Tora of its resources and burden them with the problems of the country. The old Toran leadership had little political capital after their disastrous time entrapped under the Guardian’s rule. Though still a peaceful society, Zeean, Peel, and the other elders had been phased out, and relations between the two cities had again eroded over time.
Lief arrived in the harbour and caught his breath. It seemed deserted, true to the consistent failure of the fishermen to provide anything of substance for the city. Though the docks faced south, Lief could see enough of the Eastern horizon to notice a change in the shade of the black. It was almost dawn.
What to do? Fight the Torans? Was that even a battle his anaemic Royal Guard could win? Toran magic was weaker away from their home, but was it still strong enough to decimate Barda’s trainees? Could he negotiate? Ask for more time? Reduce their taxes? Lief allowed himself a wry smile, the Toran contribution was already at a trickle, they did not believe it was their responsibility to prop Deltora up.
First light broke the horizon, and Lief squinted and shielded his tired eyes. Sure enough, a figure was gliding towards him down the stairs, Zeean was right on time. As she drew close Lief could make out the lines on her face, the whiter shade of her hair, she likely looked as worn and as bedraggled as he did.
“King Lief!” Zeean bowed gracefully. “I’m sorry I could not warn you sooner…naturally I wasn’t included in the young pups’ plans.”
Lief felt a pang of annoyance. They were not ‘young pups’, they were traitors, but such tribal loyalty never seemed to die in this land.
“Do not mind it, Zeean. I am glad to know at all, I fear I would have been asleep when they arrived.” As if the people of Del had not lost enough respect for him already, Lief thought grimly, he could only imagine their horror as they watched their king confront the intruders in his pyjamas.
“How do you suggest I handle them?”
“Handle them?” Zeean asked uncertainly. “My King...they are here. They cannot be handled. They approach the castle as we speak, looking for you, looking for the Belt.”
Lief’s jaw dropped, his hand moving to the handle of his sword. “Already? I thought…maybe we had some hours left…”
Zeean shook her head. “They are much faster and stronger than I, and I was burdened with a vessel.”
Lief frowned, but before he could ask what she meant, Zeean waved her arm, swirling it in the air, then drew it back towards her chest, tightening her fist as if holding an invisible rope. Seconds later a ship sailed into the bay, and Lief realised it was unmanned, pulled from Tora by Zeean’s magic.
“Zeean…” Lief started, realisation dawning on him. “You can’t mean for me to…”
- “You must.” Zeean cut across. “Board this ship, it will take you North to Broome. From there we can regroup in Raladin-”
- “Never!” Lief exploded, so much so that Zeean stumbled back. “I will never desert my people. How could you think I would ever entertain such a course of action? This threat to Deltora will be dealt with like any other.”
Lief drew his sword and strode past Zeean, but Zeean got in front again, blocking Lief off.
“You must not fight. You have no heir, and if the amethyst is lost, by magic or by…by force…then we risk the return of the Shadow Lord!”
Lief’s eyes began to well again. He hated this. He hated being treated like some precious vase, every time he came down with a sickness Del seemed to hold its breath in fear.
“What kind of king would run away?” Lief replied shakily, furiously blinking away his tears.
“A king that would live and take the throne back!” Zeean held her ground, stubbornly.
“No.” Lief shook his head. “The Belt would not recognise me as king if I took such an action, just like it never would have recognised Endon again after he allowed the Shadow Lord to seize power. Deltora may lose its king today, one way or the other…and if that is what will be then I will go down swinging.”
Lief went to pass Zeean again, but she stopped him, her brow furrowed.
“Zeean, I don’t have time for”-
“You do. You do have time…” Zeean’s tone had changed, her mind looked like it had kicked into overdrive. “It is as you say…we will lose our king one way or the other…so why not?”
Lief watched Zeean mutter to herself. “Zeean…if there is another way…please just tell me.”
Zeean looked up to meet Lief’s gaze. “There may be…but it is risky. It’s magic I’ve never attempted before- that no one has attempted before. A forbidden spell, recorded in ancient Toran tomes…we censored it a long time ago so that future generations would never discover it. It was supposed to die with me.”
Lief felt a bubbling in his chest. Hope. “Tell me!”
Zeean bit her lip. “Time travel. The spell would send you back in time, you would inhabit an earlier version of yourself.”
Lief stared at her, his mind once again jammed by unbelievable information. “Why…why would no one have used this before? Why didn’t Tora try when the Shadow Lord?”-
- “It’s nigh on uncontrollable. The flow of time, the tether, it’s so fine, so fragile, to travel down it in reverse…one could go too far back and cease to be; lose their soul to eternity. And even if you did manage to enter an earlier you…the landing could be horrific. Two minds in the same body, you could die on impact, or experience an endless pain worse than death.”
As Zeean went on Lief could see she was talking herself out of it, he stared at her with a determination he did not truly feel but knew he must.
“There is no other way, Zeean. Send me back and I will defeat the Shadow Lord instead of driving him out. I will rid the land of his evil once and for all.”
Zeean sighed wearily, and as she did her gaze lingered on the Belt of Deltora, and then a flash seemed to widen her eyes. “The topaz…”
Lief looked down but could see nothing wrong with the amber gem.
“What does The Belt of Deltora say about the topaz?” Zeean asked urgently.
“The topaz is a powerful gem, and its strength increases as the moon grows full. The topaz protects its wearer from the terrors of the night. It has the power to open doors into the spirit world. It strengthens and clears the mind...” Lief recited. Every word of that book was etched into his memory.
“The spirit world…” Zeean repeated. “Yes, it’s a long shot…but maybe, just maybe…”
Lief waited, daring not to say more lest he accidently swayed Zeean against the idea. Finally, Zeean nodded, and Lief nearly jumped with excitement. This was what he had been searching for. All those hours, all those nights, he had wanted a second chance. A second chance to defeat the Shadow Lord. A second chance to rule Deltora. A second chance to tell Jasmine how he felt.
“Do you have a plan, My King?” Zeean asked. Her arms began to move in large circles, and the hair stood up on Lief’s neck. He could feel the magic in the air already, an electric breeze that seemed to swirl around him.
“Not yet.” Lief admitted. “I only need to go back to Tora, when we had all seven gems. I will be able to confide in you…after all you know this spell is possible. And then we can tell Barda, and Jasmine, and Doom.”
Zeean nodded. “When you exit the tether will be up to you, theoretically. Make sure you hold on to the topaz…a clear mind and the power to open doors into the spirit world…if any gem would help you on your journey it would be that one.”
Lief touched the topaz with his left hand, the gem of his tribe sitting squarely in the middle of the Belt. The magic was growing stronger, Zeean’s palms were glowing, her eyes closed in concentration.
A yell rang out from the entrance to the docks. White-robed figures were gliding down, weapons drawn, faces contorted in fury. Lief’s heart plummeted as he saw some of their robes were stained with blood. Was Barda dead? His mother?
“My King, do not worry about the present, it will be no more in a second.” Zeann still had her eyes closed but could clearly sense a shift in her surroundings. “This is a dead future, I regret that I cannot live in”-
A spear burst through Zeann’s chest, and her words choked in her mouth, but her eyes did not open and her hands did not falter. Swirling, swirling, swirling, and then the docks were gone. Lief was hurtling through time and space, spinning along a rope that seemed to go right through him. He looked around the rainbow vortex and took in the flashes of images. Jasmine’s defection. His coronation. The Battle of Del. Lief bent his knees, ready to jump.
Withick Mire. The Gripper Fields. The Resistance Stronghold. This was it. Lief jumped, or at least he tried to. There was nothing under his feet, and in a mad panic he realised he didn’t know how to exit the portal. The images continued. The Valley. The Maze. The Mountain. Lief watched horrified as the gems left his belt one by one. He needed to get out of here before he slipped off the tether entirely.
The Sands. The City. The Lake. More gems faded out of Lief’s belt and he cried out in anguish, flailing in space helplessly. There was only one gem left. Lief added his right hand to it, holding it tighter than he had ever held it before.
“Don’t leave me!” Lief yelled. The topaz glowed, the vortex dissolved, and Lief spun right into his body. He felt the momentum of his spirit hitting his new mind, toppling him. His head bounced off the earth, and the world faded to black.