looked at the children, who were standing dejectedly in the middle of the cave.
“Colin, Susan; you have witnessed the writing of a dark chapter in the book of the world, and what deeds it will bring no man can tell; but you must in no way blame yourselves for what has happened. The elf-road would have been but short refuge from him who came against you this day – Grimnir the hooded one.”
“But what is he?” said Susan, pale with the memory of their meeting.
“He is, or was, a man. Once he studied under the wisest of the wise, and became a great lore-master; but in his lust for knowledge he practised the forbidden arts, and the black magic ravaged his heart, and made a monster of him. He left the paths of day, and went to live, like Grendel of old, beneath the waters of Llyn-dhu, the Black Lake, growing mighty in evil, second only to the ancient creatures of night that attend their lord in Ragnarok. And it is he, arch-enemy of mine, who came against you this day.”
“No one in memory has seen his face or heard his voice,” added Fenodyree. “Dwarf-legend speaks of a great shame that he bears therein: a gadfly of remorse, reminding him of what he is, and of what he might have been. But then that is only an old tale we learnt at our mother’s knee, and not one for this sad hour.”
“Nor have we time for folk-talk,” said Cadellin. “We must do what we can, and that quickly. Now tell me, who can have seen the stone and recognised it?”
“Well, nobody …” said Colin.
“Selina Place!” cried Susan. “Selina Place! My Tear went all misty! Don’t you remember, Colin? She must have seen my Tear and stopped to make certain.”
“Ha!” laughed Fenodyree bitterly. “Old Shape-shifter up to her tricks! We might have guessed the weight of the matter had we but known she was behind it!”
“Oh, why did you not tell us this when we first met?” the wizard shouted.
“I forgot all about it,” said Colin: “it didn’t seem important. I thought she was queer in the head.”
“Important? Queer? Hear him! Why, Selina Place, as she is known to you, is the chief witch of the morthbrood! Worse, she is the Morrigan, the Third Bane of Logris!”
For a moment it seemed as though he would erupt in anger, but instead, he sighed, and shook his head.
“No matter. It is done.”
Susan was almost in tears. She could not bear to see the old man so distraught, especially when she felt responsible for his plight.
“Is there nothing we can do?”
The wizard looked up at her, and a tired smile came to his lips.
“Do? My dear, I think there is little any of us can do now. Certainly, there will be no place for children in the struggle to come. It will be hard for you, I know, but you must go from here and forget all you have seen and done. Now that the stone is out of your care you will be safe.”
“But,” cried Colin, “but you can’t mean that! We want to help you!”
“I know you do. But you have no further part in this. High Magic and low cunning will be the weapons of the fray, and the valour of children would be lost in the struggle. You can help me best by freeing me from worry on your behalf.”
And, without giving the children further chance to argue, he took them by the hand, and out of the cave. They went in misery, and shortly stood above the swamp on the spot where they had first met the wizard, three nights ago.
“Must we really not see you again?” said Colin. He had never felt so wretched.
“Believe me, it must be so. It hurts me, too, to part from friends, and I can guess what it is to have the door of wonder and enchantment closed to you when you have glimpsed what lies beyond. But it is also a world of danger and shadows, as you have seen, and ere long I fear I must pass into these shadows. I will not take you with me.
“Go back to your own world: you will be safer there. If we should fail, you will suffer no harm, for not in your time will Nastrond come.
“Now go. Fenodyree will keep with you to the road.”
So saying, he entered the tunnel. The rock echoed: he was gone.
Colin and Susan stared at the wall. They were very near to tears, and Fenodyree, weighed down with his own troubles, felt pity for them in their despondency.
“Do not think him curt or cruel,” he said gently. “He has suffered a defeat that would have crushed a lesser man. He is going now to prepare himself to face death, and worse than death, for the stone’s sake; and I and others shall stand by him, though I think we are for the dark. He has said farewell because he knows there may be no more meetings for him this side of Ragnarok.”
“But it was all our fault!” said Colin desperately. “We must help him!”
“You will help him best by keeping out of danger, as he said; and that means staying well away from us and all we do.”
“Is that really the best way?” said Susan.
“It is.”
“Then I suppose we’ll have to do it. But it will be very hard.”
“Is his task easier?” said Fenodyree.
They walked along a path that curved round the hillside, gradually rising till it ran along the crest of the Edge.
“You will be safe now,” said Fenodyree, “but if you should have need of me, tell the owls in farmer Mossock’s barn: they understand your speech, and will come to me, but remember that they are guardians for the night and fly like drunken elves by day.”
“Do you mean to say all those owls were sent by you?” said Colin.
“Ay, my people have ever been masters of bird lore. We treat them as brothers, and they help us where they can. Two nights since they brought word that evil things were closing on you. A bird that seemed no true bird (and scarce made off with its life) brought to the farm a strange presence that filled them with dread, though they could not see its form. I can guess now that it was the hooded one – and here is Castle Rock, from which we can see his lair.”
They had come to a flat outcrop that jutted starkly from the crest, so that it seemed almost a straight drop to the plain far below. There was a rough bench resting on stumps of rock, and here they sat. Behind them was a field, and beyond that the road, and the beginning of the steep “front” hill.
“It is as I thought,” said Fenodyree. “The black master is in his den. See, yonder is Llyn-dhu, garlanded with mosses and mean dwellings.”
Colin and Susan looked where Fenodyree was pointing, and some two or three miles out on the plain they could see the glint of grey water through trees.
“Men thought to drain that land and live there, but the spirit of the place entered them, and their houses were built drab and desolate, and without cheer; and all around the bog still sprawls, from out the drear lake come soulless thoughts and drift into the hearts of the people, and they are one with their surroundings.
“Ah! But there goes he who can tell us more about the stone.”
He pointed to a speck floating high over the plain, and whistled shrilly.
“Hi, Windhover! To me!”
The speck paused, then came swooping through the air like a black falling star, growing larger every second, and, with a hollow beating of wings, landed on Fenodyree’s outstretched arm – a magnificent kestrel, fierce and proud, whose bright eyes glared at the children.
“Strange company for dwarfs, I know,” said Fenodyree, “but they have been prey of the morthbrood, and so are older than their years.
“It is of Grimnir that we want news. He went by here: did he seek the lake?”
The