Alan Garner Classic Collection. Alan Garner

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ