The Shadowlands

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The guards were wild and fearsome, with their clothes of animal skin and wicked bone spears. But they would not cross that bright weed barrier, the ancient Auron warning of danger, unless ordered to do so by their leader, the Piper. And no such order had been given.

‘We will give you a boat, and guide you to the edge of our territory, but we can help you no further,’ the Piper had told Lief, Barda and Jasmine as they ate their final meal in Penn’s little hut. ‘No Auron may enter the Forbidden Way.’

‘It is our most ancient law,’ added Penn, anxious to soften the Piper’s bluntness. ‘Should Aurons enter their sea, the Kerons would attack.’

‘The Plume people said the same of you,’ Jasmine remarked lightly. ‘They said you would kill us on sight.’

‘The Plumes are lying savages!’ snapped the Piper, his eyes sparks of pale fire in his wrinkled face.

Lief and Barda glanced ruefully at one another. They knew that there was no point in defending the Plumes. The old hatred between the Pirran tribes was too strong to be shaken by the arguments of three strangers.

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