The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath. Alan Garner
Point. But their relief was short-lived; for whereas till that moment they had been fleeing from twenty or so, they were now confronted with several hundred of the creatures as they came out of Devil’s Grave like ants from a nest.
Colin and Susan halted: gone was their last hope of reaching the road: the way was blocked to front and rear: on their left was the grim beech wood: to the right an almost sheer slope dropped between pines into a valley. But at least there was no known danger there, so the children turned their faces that way and fled, stumbling and slithering down a sandy path, till at last they landed at the bottom – only to splash knee-deep in the mud and leaf-mould of the swamp that sprawled unseen down the opposite wall of the valley and out across the floor.
They lurched forward a few paces, spurred on by the sound of what was following all too close behind, but then Susan staggered and collapsed against a fallen tree.
“I can’t go on!” she sobbed. “My legs won’t move.”
“Oh yes you can! Only a few more yards!”
Colin had spotted a huge boulder sticking out of the swamp a little way up the hill from where they were, and, if only they could reach it, it would offer more protection than their present position, which could hardly be worse. He grabbed his sister’s arm and dragged her through the mud to the base of the rock.
“Now climb!”
And, while Susan hauled herself up to the flat summit, Colin put his back to the rock, like a fox at bay turning to face the hunt.
The edge of the swamp was a mass of bodies. The rising moon shone on their leathery hides and was reflected in their eyes. Colin could see white shapes spreading out on either side to encircle the rock; they were in no hurry now, for they knew that escape was impossible.
Colin climbed after his sister. He ached in every muscle and was trembling with fatigue.
When the circle was complete the creatures began to advance across the swamp, moving easily over the mire on their splayed feet. Ever closer they came, till the rock was surrounded.
From all sides at once the ropes came snaking through the air, as soft as silk, as strong as iron, and clung to the children as though coated with glue; so that in no time at all Colin and Susan fell helpless beneath the sticky coils, and over them swarmed the mob, pinching and poking, and binding and trussing, until the children lay with only their heads exposed, like two cocoons upon the rock.
But as they were being hoisted on to bony shoulders it seemed as though a miracle happened. There was a flash, and the whole rock was lapped about by a lake of blue fire. The children could feel no heat, but their captors fell, hissing and spitting, into the swamp, and the ropes charred and crumbled into ash, while pandemonium broke loose through all the assembly.
Then, from the darkness above, a voice rang out.
“Since when have men-children grown so mighty that you must needs meet two with hundreds? Run, maggot-breed of Ymir, ere I lose my patience!”
The crowd had fallen silent at the first sound of that voice, and now it drew back slowly, snarling and blinking in the blue light, wavered, turned, and fled. The dazed children listened to the rushing feet as though in a dream: soon there was only the rattle of stones on the opposite slope; then nothing. The cold flames about the rock flickered and died. The moon shone peacefully upon the quiet valley.
And as their eyes grew accustomed to this paler light the children saw standing on the path beneath a cliff some way above them an old man, taller than any they had ever known, and thin. He was clad in a white robe, his hair and beard were white, and in his hand was a white staff. He was looking at Colin and Susan, and, as they sat upright, he spoke again, but this time there was no anger in his voice.
“Come quickly, children, lest there be worse than svarts abroad; for indeed I smell much evil in the night. Come, you need not fear me.”
He smiled and stretched out his hand. Colin and Susan climbed down from the rock and squelched their way up to join him. They were shivering in spite of their coats and recent exertions.
“Stay close to me. Your troubles are over though I fear it may be only for this night, but we must take no risks.”
And he touched the cliff with his staff. There was a hollow rumble, and a crack appeared in the rock, through which a slender ray of light shone. The crack widened to reveal a tunnel leading down into the earth: it was lit by a soft light, much the same as that which had scattered the mob in the swamp.
The old man herded Colin and Susan into the tunnel, and, as soon as they were past the threshold, the opening closed behind them, shutting out the night and its fears.
The tunnel was quite short, and soon they came to a door. The children stood aside while the old man fumbled with the lock.
“Where High Magic fails, oak and iron may yet prevail,” he said. “Ah! That has it! Now enter, and be refreshed.”
They were in a cave, sparsely but comfortably furnished. There was a long wooden table in the centre, and a few carved chairs, and in one corner lay a pile of animal skins. Through the middle of the cave a stream of water babbled in the channel it had cut in the sandstone floor, and as it disappeared under the cave wall it formed a pool, into which the old man dipped two bronze cups, and offered them to Colin and Susan.
“Rest,” he said, pointing to the heap of skins, “and drink of this.”
The children sank down upon the bed and sipped the ice-cold water. And at the first draught their tiredness vanished, and a warmth spread through their limbs; their befuddled, shock-numbed brains cleared, their spirits soared.
“Oh,” cried Susan, as she gazed at their surroundings as though seeing them for the first time, “this can’t be real! We must be dreaming. Colin, how do we wake up?”
But Colin was staring at the old man, and seemed not to have heard. He saw an old man, true, but one whose body was as firm and upright as a youth’s; whose keen, grey eyes were full of the sadness of the wise; whose mouth, though stern, was kind and capable of laughter.
“Then the legend is true,” said Colin.
“It is,” said the wizard. “And I would it were not; for that was a luckless day for me.
“But enough of my troubles. We must discover now what is in you to draw the attentions of the svart-alfar, since it is indeed strange that men-children should cause them such concern.”
“Oh please,” interrupted Susan, “this is so bewildering! Can’t you tell us first what’s been happening and what these things were in the marsh? We don’t even know who you are, though I suppose you must be the wizard.”
The old man smiled. “Forgive me. In my disquiet I had forgotten that you have seen much that has been unknown to you.
“Who am I? I have had many names among many peoples through the long ages of the earth, and of those names some may not now be spoken, or would be foreign to your tongue; but you shall call me Cadellin, after the fashion of the men of Elthan, in the days to come, for I believe our paths will run together for a while.
“The creatures you encountered are of the goblin race – the svart-alfar, in their own tongue. They are a cowardly people, night-loving, and sun-loathing, much given to throttlings in dark places, and seldom venturing above ground unless they have good cause. They have no magic, and so, alone, are no danger to me; but it would have fared ill with you had I not known their alarm echoing through the hollow hill.
“And now you must tell me who you are, and what it is that has brought you into such danger this night.”
Colin