Читать книгу Alan Garner Classic Collection - Alan Garner, Alan Garner - Страница 24

“Idon’t know what came over me,” said Susan. “I wasn’t afraid to begin with: something was pulling me on all the time.”

The children had withdrawn a good distance from the shaft, and were sitting with their backs propped against the tunnel wall. They were both in need of a rest.

“I was so certain that we were right that I could have cried when the tunnel dropped like that. And again, when you said we’d better go on, and we came to the ledge, I wanted to jump into the water!

“That would have made a mess of things!”

“I know; but it was such a strong urge. Crossing the plank was easy. I just knew it would be safe, and I wasn’t dizzy. But, when I saw those four pairs of eyes glowing in the shaft, something went wrong in my head. The plank wasn’t safe and wide; it was old, and rotten, and narrow, and the shaft was trying to swallow me, and those eyes were waiting.”

“But how do you know they were eyes? It could have been the light glinting on broken glass, or that white fungus stuff.”

“No it wasn’t! They blinked, and moved about. I’ve never been so frightened before; not even when Grimnir caught us. And when I dropped the lamp it was worse.

“But I’m not frightened now; isn’t it strange? As soon as we were off the plank I felt altogether different. No, it wasn’t because we were safe: it’s as though there was a special kind of fear reaching out of the shaft and trying to make me fall. Do you think they were svarts down there?”

“I don’t know; but whatever they were, I think we’d better move from here. Are you ready?”

They retraced their steps, and presently came to a break in the wall, and a stairway, cut in the rock, leading down into a cave.

“Shall we?”

“Yes, anywhere’s better than covering old ground.”

But soon they realised that it was not new country at all. They were walking at the foot of a cliff, and on top of this was heaped a shelving bed of sand that almost touched the roof.

“I wish we’d known there was an easier way to that tunnel,” said Colin. “It’s bad enough down here without doing things the hard way.”

They were becoming used to conditions underground, and the atmosphere of the place was no longer oppressive – while they were on the move. But the loss of the lamp slowed them considerably. They went hand in hand wherever possible, and Colin held the light, except when they were in a tunnel; then Susan would take the lead, while Colin was left to grope along behind in treacherous semi-darkness. Their rest-periods became more frequent, and Colin made a rule of switching off the light at such times. The battery was not new, and they had neither matches nor candles, and without light there would be no hope.

The children tried to keep to uphill paths, but the switchback tunnels bemused them at every turn.

“I’d like something to eat next time we stop,” said Susan.

“All right; but we must go very carefully with the food and drink. We were fools to swig nearly all the lemonade like that, because I shouldn’t think any of the water down here is fit to drink.”

“Ugh, no!”

“The next small tunnel we find, we’ll rest and share the food out. We’ll have one sandwich each, but we mustn’t have any drink.”

“Oh, Colin, I’m parched! My mouth feels as though it’s full of glue, and I’m so hot!”

“Me too. But we must be strict with ourselves, otherwise we may never get out.”

Colin was very worried about the light. It was strong, but sooner or later its white beam would turn yellow, flicker, and slowly die. He said nothing of this to his sister, but she was not blind to the danger.

“Ah, here’s a likely place,” said Colin.

They crawled inside and looked around. Yes, it was very suitable. The tunnel came to a dead end after a few yards, and the entrance was almost filled with sand. Quite a snug little den – until they realised that it was the very same tunnel in which they had first rested. All that distance, and to no purpose.

“And I was beginning to think we were gaining height!” said Colin. “We’re like squirrels in a cage! Oh, I could throw something!”

They unwrapped the food.

“Here you are,” said Colin; “make the most of it.”

“You know, perhaps we have climbed a bit,” said Susan. “For all we can tell, this tunnel may be near the surface.”

“Huh,” said Colin out of the darkness. He knew she was only trying to cheer him up.

Susan gave a little cough, and a gasp.

“What’s the matter? Got a crumb in your throat? That’s what comes of being greedy! I suppose it means you’ll have to have a drink now. Why can’t you be more careful?”

Colin reached for the lamp and pressed the switch. He was alone.

“Sue!!”

He scrambled round in the tunnel: it was empty.

“Sue!!”

She had gone, pack and all.

Colin squirmed through the entrance and flashed his lamp up and down: there was nothing to be seen. He ran unthinkingly. Tunnels, caverns, tunnels; an endless desolation of sand and rock.

“Sue! Sue!!”

And at once he was past running. The sand dragged his steps, he tripped and fell.

“Sue!” No. That’s not the way. Keep quiet. Must think. Put the light out! Must find her. But suppose I find the way out? What then? No. Must find Sue. Rest a minute, though: just a minute.

Slowly strength returned to his limbs. Colin humped himself on to his elbows and turned on the lamp.

Svarts! Two of them. They were creeping over the sand, and were caught full in the beam of light.

Colin sprang to his feet; but he was no longer in danger. To take him in the dark had been their plan; to leap, and grasp him with their sinewy hands, and bear him off in sport. But now they reeled back, their eyes blinded by the lamp. They croaked and hissed, blundering along the cave wall, with their arms before their faces, trying to find refuge from their pain. At length they stumbled upon a tunnel, and fought in haste to enter it. There was a last jostling of leathery backs, and they were gone.

All this happened in half the time it takes to tell, and it was over before Colin could gather his wits; but more was still to come. For a muffled cry sounded along the tunnel, and next the scrabble of feet. A svart burst out of the opening, swerved away from the lamp, and fled across the cave. Hard on his heels was the other svart: he paused, uncertain in the light, looked over his shoulder, and started off after his companion. Something flashed white in the air. The svart shrieked and crashed on his face in the sand. A broad, two-handed sword had pierced him through and through. Colin’s jaw dropped; then, even as his brain struggled to accept the evidence of his eyes, the svart faded, and crumbled like a withered leaf, and all that was left was a haze of dust which settled gently to the floor. For a moment the sword stood reared on its point, then it fell to the ground with a thud.

“Ho! Dyrnwyn, they like not your bite! By the beard of my father, this is poor sport indeed!”

The deep voice boomed out of the tunnel, and into the cave strode a dwarf – a viking in miniature. Yellow hair rolled down his shoulders, his forked beard reached to his waist. His armour was a winged helmet and a shirt of plated mail. About his shoulders hung a cloak of white eagle feathers.

“Breath of Nidhug!” he bellowed, shielding his eyes against the light. “Have I come to this place of unclean air to be half-blinded?”

“I-I’m sorry!” stammered Colin, switching the lamp from the dwarf’s face.

“You would have been sorrier ere long, if I had not found you.” He took up the sword. “And now, come quickly. More svart-heads must roll soon, and I would share them with my cousin.”

“But – who are you? And how did you find me?”

“Durathror son of Gondemar, am I; Prince of the Huldrafolk, and friend to the lios-alfar. We have not time for gossip: come.”

The sword clashed in its sheath, and the dwarf entered the tunnel.

“But wait a minute!” cried Colin. “I’ve got to find my sister: she’s vanished, and I think the svarts have taken her.”

“She is safe, never fear. Now will you come, or must I needs carry you?”

Colin had the greatest difficulty in keeping up with the dwarf, for he set off at a run, and slackened his pace for neither steep slopes nor floundering sands. But they had not far to go. Rounding a corner, Durathror slowed to a walk, and there, in a cave from which no other tunnels led, seated on a pile of rocks and calmly eating sandwiches, were Susan and Fenodyree.

“Sue! Where have you been? I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Oh, Colin, thank goodness you’re safe, too!” cried Susan. “If it hadn’t been for Fenodyree and Durathror I don’t know what would have happened.”

“I do,” said Fenodyree. “And I say it is well we came up with you when we did.”

“Came up with us?” said Colin. “I don’t understand.”

Susan burst out laughing.

“It wasn’t Grimnir or Selina Place following us at all: it was these two!”

“What? Do you mean …? Oh, no!”

“Ay,” said Fenodyree, “and a fine chase we had of it!

“But I have heard from Susan of how you gained the stone, and I say Cadellin, old wizard though he is, was wrong to think you have no place in this. You have shown yourselves worthy this day, and I would take you with us beyond the end of adventure, if you so wished it and it should come to that.”

“Cousin Wineskin,” interrupted Durathror, “well it is said of you that your tongue would still wag if it were cut out. This talk is pleasant, and no doubt there is much more to be said, but our errand is not over, and I would fain rid my lungs of the stink of this place.”

“But of course!” said Fenodyree, jumping to his feet. “Forgive me, Durathror. Let us go. The way to the light is not long, and we shall tell all our tales in Fundindelve within the hour.”

“I hope so,” said Durathror. “But you must know that when I found the Young Dog there were svarts with him, and one, alas, still lives. I feel our journey will be merry ere it is done.”

“Quickly then!” said Fenodyree. “We should not have lingered. Susan, behind me: then Colin: Durathror will guard the rear. Nay, do not look so amiss, Colin; Durathror meant no insult. Your name, in my own tongue, is as he said, and it is an old name, and bears much honour. Now let us go with speed.”

As they hurried along, Colin managed to find out from Susan all that had happened to her. It appeared that two svarts had seized her from behind, almost stifling her with their hands, and had carried her off. She had heard Colin’s shouts die away, and was on the point of despairing altogether, when there was a loud cry, and the svarts dropped her and ran. She felt someone leap over her and follow in pursuit; but she almost died of shock, she said, when the voice of Fenodyree, close beside her, asked if she was unharmed. In the distance there were two shrieks, followed by the sound of returning footsteps; and so she met Durathror.

“But I don’t know how it is they managed to do all this in the dark.”

“How can an eagle fly? How can a fish swim?” laughed Fenodyree over his shoulder.

“Yes, but how did you find me so quickly?” said Colin. “Was it luck?”

“Luck?” shouted Durathror. “I had but to put my ear to the ground, and your bellowing all but split my head! The wonder of it is that I found no more than two of the svartalfar in your company.

“Shh!” said Fenodyree, holding up his hand. “We must go carefully now.”

He listened, ear to the ground, as Durathror had done.

“Svarts are moving, but they are far away. There may be no danger here, yet.”

The tunnel opened into a broad gallery; before them rose an outcrop of rock, and it was the shape of a lion’s head. Above the head the gallery stretched to a great height, cutting through other levels and caves as it went.

“This is the Cave of the Svartmoot, and no place for us at any time.”

The words were barely out of Fenodyree’s mouth when a faint sound came to them from far away. Colin and Susan had heard it once before: it was the gong that had brought the svart-alfar out of the Devil’s Grave on Stormy Point on the night when the children had been run to earth in the marsh below the Holywell.

“Ha!” cried Durathror, and the sword Dyrnwyn sang aloud as she sprang from her sheath in an arc of light.

“Not now: not now,” said Fenodyree. “It would be a good fight, but we should go under, and the stone with us. We must pass unseen.”

Durathror lowered his arm unwillingly, an expression of disgust on his face.

“By the cow of Orgelmir!” he growled. “Yours is sour counsel! I shall not forget this day. Never before has one of the house of Gondemar turned from battle – and with such carrion, too. When all is safe in Fundindelve I must needs come here and put right this ill.”

“Your arm may yet grow tired ere you see the light,” said Fenodyree. “That is the call to svartmoot. We must hurry.”

He scrambled lightly on to the lion’s shoulders, and the others followed. From the shoulder they climbed up a wall, pocked with smooth footholds, to a narrow ledge that curved round to a gallery, overlooking the head. The sound of many feet could now be heard drawing nearer. Every tunnel murmured.

Fenodyree made for a passage that wound into the roof.

“Quickly, now! They are coming by this way, too, and we must reach hiding before they meet us.”

The tunnel wall ended, and they were upon a wide platform: far beneath lay the cave. At the back of the ledge was a recess.

“In here! And show no light.”

Colin switched off the lamp, and felt the dwarfs press to him as they crowded as far away from the entrance as they could. Susan, crushed against the rear wall, could hardly breathe.

They were none too soon; for barely had they settled themselves when the svarts were upon them. They swept by the opening like a racing tide. For a full minute Colin and Susan listened to the slap of feet, and the hiss of breath. And then the unseen crowd was past, and the noise of its going blended into the general confusion of rustling, croaking, piping, and pulling, which grew steadily louder as svarts poured into the cave from every direction, and the air grew rank with their presence.

As though at a given signal, the hubbub died, and a tense quiet fell upon the assembled multitude. The svartmoot had begun.