The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath. Alan Garner

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      It could be only Cadellin. He stood against the skyline of Castle Rock, staff in hand, facing the plain.

      At once all promises were forgotten: the children dropped their bicycles and ran.

      “Cadellin! Cadellin!”

      The wizard spun round at the sound of their voices, and made as if to leave the rock. But after three strides he checked his pace, stood for a moment, and then walked to the bench and sat down.

      “Oh, Cadellin, we thought something must have happened to you!” cried Susan, sobbing with relief.

      “Many things have happened to me, but I do not feel the worse for that!”

      There was displeasure in his face, tempered with understanding.

      “But we were so worried,” said Colin. “When the owls disappeared we wondered if you’d … you’d …”

      “I see!” said Cadellin, breaking into laughter. “No, no, no, you must not look on life so fearfully. We called the birds away because we knew that you were no longer in danger from the morthbrood.”

      “Well, we thought of that,” said Colin, “but we couldn’t help thinking of other things, too.”

      “But what about the morthbrood?” said Susan. “Have they still got my Tear?”

      “Yes, and no,” said the wizard. “And in their greed and deceit lies all our present hope.

      “Grimnir has the stone. He should have delivered it to Nastrond, but the morthbrood and he intend to master it alone. Perhaps they believe Firefrost holds power for them. If so, they are mistaken!

      “And here we have wheels within wheels; for Grimnir and Shape-shifter, as rumour has it, are planning to reap all benefits for themselves, and to leave the brood and the svarts to whistle for their measure. So says rumour; and I can guess more. I know Grimnir too well to imagine that he would willingly share power with anyone, and the Morrigan, for all her guile, is no match for him. And it may be among all this treachery that we shall find our chance; but for the present we watch, and wait. Firefrost is not in Nastrond’s hand, and for that we must be thankful.

      “There! You have it all, and now we go our ways once more.”

      Colin and Susan were so relieved to find the wizard unharmed that parting from him did not seem anything like so bleak an experience as it had been before.

      “Is there still nothing we can do?” asked Susan.

      “No more than you have been doing all these months. You have played your part well (if we forget this afternoon!), and you must continue to do so, for we do not want you to fall foul of that one again.”

      He pointed with his staff. About the trees through which the Black Lake could normally be seen hung a blanket of fog. Elsewhere, as far as the eye could see, the sunset plain was free of haze or mist, but Llyn-dhu brooded under a fallen cloud.

      “It has been there for over a week,” said the wizard. “I do not know what he is about, but my guess is that he is trying to seal Firefrost within a circle of magic to prevent its power from reaching Fundindelve. He will not succeed, and he has not the strength to destroy the stone. But then, I have not the power to take it by force, so the matter rests, though we do not.”

      Cadellin walked with the children as far as the road, and they left him, lighter at heart than they had been for many a day.

      The mist was still there the following morning. Colin and Susan had set out on their bicycles soon after dawn to spend the day exploring the countryside, and when they had reached the top of the “front” hill Colin had suggested taking another look at Llyn-dhu. So there they now were, sitting on Castle Rock, and gazing at the mist.

      For a long time they were silent, and when next Colin spoke he did no more than put his sister’s thoughts into words.

      “I wonder,” he said, “what it’s like … close to.”

      “Do you think we’d be breaking a promise if we went just to look?”

      “Well, we’re looking now, and we’d be doing the same thing, only from a lot nearer, wouldn’t we?”

      That decided it; but then they realised that they had not the least idea of how to reach the lake. However, by picking out what few landmarks they knew, it seemed that if they made for Wilmslow, and there turned left, they would be heading in something like the right direction. So, without further delay, Colin and Susan rode to Alderley, bought a bottle of lemonade to go with their sandwiches, posted a view of Stormy Point to their father and mother, and within thirty minutes of making their decision were in the centre of Wilmslow, and wondering which road to take next.

      “There’s the man to ask,” said Colin.

      He had seen a small beetle of a car, from which was emerging a police sergeant of such vast proportions that he hid the car almost completely from view. It was incredible that he could ever have fitted into it, even curled up.

      The children cycled over to him, and Colin said:

      “Excuse me, can you tell us the way to Llyn-dhu, please?”

      “Where?” said the sergeant in obvious surprise.

      “Llyn-dhu, the Black Lake. It’s not far from here.”

      The sergeant grinned.

      “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”

      “No,” said Susan, “we’re not – promise!”

      “Then somebody must be pulling yours, because there’s no such place of that name round here that I know of, and I’ve been at Wilmslow all of nine years. Sounds more Welsh than anything.”

      Colin and Susan were so taken aback that, for a moment, they could not speak.

      “But we saw it from Castle Rock less than an hour ago!” said Susan, and tears of exasperation pricked her eyes. “Well, we didn’t really see it, because it was covered in mist, but we know it’s there.”

      “Mist, did you say? Ah, now perhaps we’re getting somewhere. There’s been fog on Lindow Common for days, and the only lake in the district is there. Do you think that’s what you want?”

      Llyn-dhu, Lindow: it could be: it had to be!

      “Ye-es; yes, that’s it,” said Colin. “We must have got the name wrong. Is it far?”

      They followed the sergeant’s directions, and after a mile came upon an expanse of damp ground, covered with scrub, and heather, and puddles. A little way off the road was a notice board which stated that this was Lindow Common, and that cycling was prohibited. And in the middle of the common was a long lake of black, peat-stained water.

      The children stood on the slimy shore. The air was dank, and the scenery depressing. The common was encircled by a broken rash of houses, such as may be seen, like a ring of pink scum, on the outskirts of most of our towns and villages today.

      “Garlanded СКАЧАТЬ