Alan Garner Classic Collection. Alan Garner
you may know that I do not act rashly – or if I do, there is no other course.
“We are to pass through the upper galleries of the Earldelving to where they touch upon another mine, the like of this, though smaller. The paths were never wide or high, and the earth has stirred many times in her sleep since they were dug: the road may no longer be as I was taught, and we may lose ourselves for ever. But it is our only chance, if chance it be, and we must take it. And here is the threshold; once beyond it, we may rest awhile.”
They were at the corner of yet another cave. Two of the three walls that they could see were like any other in the mine, rough-hewn and fluted. But the third, immediately to their right, was awesomely different. Its face was smooth and grey, and it shot almost vertically, like a steel spade, into the ground – or rather, where the ground should have been; for at the dwarf’s feet lay a shaft, a sloping chimney of stone. And it was into this that Fenodyree was pointing.
“WHERE NO SVART WILL EVER TREAD”
Durathror grunted, and picked up a lump of stone and tossed it into the hole. It glanced off the smooth cliff and rocketed out of sight past a bend in the shaft. For an age the hollow crashing of its fall was heard, then silence, and, when all but Fenodyree had judged that that was the end, a single, final, thump.
“We must go down there?” whispered Susan.
“And before our courage fails. Durathror, will Valham aid us here?”
“Nay, cousin; the magic is mine alone; and I could not take you, for she was made for elves and finds my unburdened weight a trial.”
“It is as I thought. Will you stay here, then, lest svarts roll boulders on our heads?”
“That I can do, and will.”
“Good. Colin, Susan, follow me; step where I step; do not hurry. So we shall come safe to the end.”
Fenodyree began to climb down the oblique first pitch of the shaft, jamming himself into the angle between the two rock faces. Loose stones rattled down before him, and only the biggest sounded the end of their fall.
“There is room for you both here,” he called from the bend; “come singly, Colin first.”
Colin lowered himself over the edge into the gully, and worked his way down to within a yard of Fenodyree.
“That is near enough,” said the dwarf. “Susan!”
“Yes.”
“Stop when you are as close to your brother as he is to me: we must not crowd each other.”
“Right.”
It was unpleasant to crowd there helplessly while a river of stones bounced off head, shoulders, and knuckles; but Susan was not long about it.
“This is the problem,” said Fenodyree when the clatter of debris had faded away. “The shaft is like a bent knee, and we are in the crook, therefore the slope down which we can climb is on the opposite side from us. It is steeper, too. But I think I see a way. Across there, about five feet down, is a ledge. If we jump from here and grasp the ledge we shall be well on our road.”
“We shall be if we miss!” said Susan.
“The deed is nothing. It is the thought that breeds fear; and we achieve little by lingering.”
And Fenodyree jumped. His fingers snatched for the rock, caught it, and he lay against the sloping wall of the shaft, and did not speak or move. At first the children thought he was unconscious, but they were soon to find for themselves how easy it was to be winded in such a fall.
“It is a good hold,” said Fenodyree. He eased himself a couple of feet from the ledge, and took up a secure position astride a corner of the shaft.
“Throw me your light.”
“But what if you drop it?” said Colin.
“I shall not drop it.”
Colin let the lamp fall, and the dwarf caught it in both hands.
“Now jump; you cannot miss.”
Can’t I? thought Colin.
He had a brief impression of blackness stretching under him, and of the ledge hurtling upwards, before the air was squashed from his lungs by vicious impact with the rock. Blue and red stars exploded in his brain, and a vacuum formed where his lungs should have been; but Fenodyree’s steadying hand was in the small of his back, and as his senses cleared, Colin realised that his fingers had closed upon the ledge, and were holding him, although he was numb from the elbows down.
When the children and Fenodyree had recovered from the effects of the drop they considered the next stage of their journey. Colin was perched just below Fenodyree, while Susan had pulled herself on to the ledge and was wishing she could spare a hand to massage her aching ribs. It felt as though every bone in her body had been shaken loose by her fall.
“There are no more bends for a distance,” said Fenodyree, “but whether there is safe passage I cannot tell.”
The V-shaped gully continued for thirty feet, and they made good progress. Fenodyree held the lamp, leaving Colin and Susan both hands free; but light was still a problem. For when Fenodyree was above the children, their shadows hid the rock below, causing them to grope blindly for holds; and when he was below, it was difficult for him to shine the light without blinding them. He could, however, direct their feet to holds that he had tested, so they decided on this order of descent.
At the foot of the gully three sides of the shaft opened out like the shoulder of a bottle, leaving the remaining side, the all but sheer rock face, within reach.
“We can’t go down there!” said Colin, aghast. “It’s as smooth as ice!”
“The eyes of men were ever blind,” said Fenodyree. “Can you not see the crevices and the ledges?”
The children peered down the shaft, but still it seemed to them impassable.
“Ah well, you must put your trust in me, that is all. We shall rest here a little, for there will be no haven after this until we near the end.”
He called up the shaft, “Is all quiet with you, cousin?”
“Ay, though the chill of this place is beyond belief! It is well I have my cloak! Svarts draw nearer, but they move slowly. I fear they will not come in time.”
“Are you ready?” said Fenodyree to the children.
“As ready as we ever shall be, I suppose,” said Susan.
“Good. Colin, you are well lodged, so your sister will go first. I shall clear a way for you as far as I can. Have patience, and rest while I am gone, for it will be a hard climb.”
Fenodyree let himself down to the full extent of his arms, and scuffed around with his toes until he had found, and cleared, a ledge: then he searched for a lower finger-hold, and in this way slowly began the descent. The wall was not quite as smooth as Colin and Susan had thought, but the accumulated sand of years rendered the many cracks and projections invisible to the children’s eyes.
Minutes, or hours, later (for it seemed an eternity in the nothingness of the shaft) the children heard Fenodyree returning. Colin switched on the lamp, and the dwarf’s face, lined and grey with effort, came into view.
“All … is … clear. Or … nearly so. We must … not … delay … now.”
Colin handed him the lamp, and Fenodyree climbed down to his first station, from which he guided Susan on to the rock face. As soon as she was immediately above him, he descended a little further, and soon Colin was left alone to his