In a small room crammed under the eaves Selina Place and Grimnir waited. Both were keyed to an almost unendurable pitch. They knew well the price of failure. Not once in a thousand years had any of their kind disobeyed the charge of Nastrond, but all at some time had stood in the outer halls of Ragnarok and looked on the Abyss. Thus did Nastrond bind evil to his will.
“It cannot be long now,” said the Morrigan. “Within five minutes the stone must …”
A trail of smoke drifted under the door and floated across the room, and a bubbling sound of tears accompanied it. The Morrigan jumped from her chair: her eyes were wild, and there was sweat on her brow.
“Non licet abire!” She threw her arms wide to bar the way. “Coniuro et confirmo super …” But the smoke curled round her towards the hearth, and leapt into the chimney mouth. A wind sighed mournfully past the windows, and was still.
“No! No,” she mumbled groping for the door; but Grimnir had already flung it open and was rushing along the corridor to the stairs. He was halfway down the first flight when there was the sound of breaking glass, and the staircase was momentarily in shadow as a dark figure blocked the window at its head. The Morrigan’s harsh voice cried out in fear, and Grimnir turned with the speed and menace of a hungry spider.
The noise roused Colin and Susan from their trance. Again the Morrigan shrieked.
“Here, let’s get out of this!” said Colin, and he pulled his sister into the hall. “As soon as we’re outside run like mad: I’ll be right behind you!”
Quite a hullabaloo was breaking out upstairs, and most of the sounds were by no means pleasant; at least they made the other hazard seem less formidable – until Colin opened the door. There was a rasping growl, and out of the mist came a shape that sent the children stumbling backwards into the house, and before they could close the door the hound of the Morrigan crossed the threshold and was revealed in all its malignity.
It was like a bull terrier; except that it stood four feet high at the shoulder, and its ears, unlike the rest of the white body, were covered in coarse red hair. But what set it apart from all others was the fact that, from pointed ears to curling lip, its head and muzzle were blank. There were no eyes.
The beast paused, swinging its wedge-shaped head from side to side, and snuffling wetly with flared nostrils, and when it caught the children’s scent it moved towards them as surely as if it had eyes. Colin and Susan dived for the nearest door, and into what was obviously a kitchen, which had nothing to offer them but another door.
“We’ll have to risk it,” said Susan: “that thing’ll be through in a second.” She put no trust in the flimsy latch, which was rattling furiously beneath the scrabbling of claws. But as she spoke they heard another sound; footsteps rapidly drawing near to the other door! And then the latch did give way, and the hound was in the room.
Colin seized a kitchen chair. “Get behind me,” he whispered.
At the sound of his voice the brute froze, but only for an instant: it had found its bearings.
“Can we reach a window?” Colin dared not take his eyes off the hound as it advanced upon them.
“No.”
“Is there another way out?”
“No.”
He was parrying the lunges and snappings with the chair, but it was heavy, and his arms ached.
“There’s a broom cupboard, or something, behind us, and the door’s ajar.”
“What good will that do?”
“I don’t know: but Grimnir may not notice us, or the dog may attack him, or … oh, anything’s better than this!”
“Is it big enough?”
“It goes up to the ceiling.”
“Right: get in.”
Susan stepped inside and held the door open for Colin as he backed towards it. The hound was biting at the chair legs and trying to paw them down. Wood crunched and splinters flew, and the chair drooped in Colin’s hands, but he was there. He hurled the chair at the snarling head, and fell backwards into the cupboard. Susan had a vision of a red tongue lolling out of a gaping mouth, and of fangs flashing white, inches from her face, before she slammed the door; and, at the same moment, she heard the kitchen door being flung open. Then she fainted.
Or, at least, she thought she had fainted. Her stomach turned over, her head reeled, and she seemed to be falling into the bottomless dark. But had she fainted? Colin bumped against her in struggling to right himself: she could feel that. And the back of the cupboard was pressing into her. She pinched herself. No, she had not fainted.
Colin and Susan stood rigidly side by side, nerving themselves for the moment when the door would be opened. But the room seemed unnaturally still: not a sound could they hear.
“What’s up?” whispered Colin. “It’s too quiet out there.”
“Shh!”
“I can’t see a keyhole anywhere, can you? There should be one somewhere.” He bent forward to feel.
“Ouch!!”
Colin let out a yell of surprise and pain, and this time Susan nearly did faint.
“Sue! There’s no door!”
“Wh-what?”
“No door! It’s something that feels like smooth rock going past very quickly, and I’ve skinned my hand on it. That’s why my ears have been popping! We’re in a lift!”
Even as he spoke, the floor seemed to press against their feet, and a chill, damp air blew upon their faces, and they were aware of a silence so profound that they could hear their hearts beating.
“Where on earth are we?” said Colin.
“It’s probably more like where in earth are we!”
Susan knelt on the floor of the cupboard and stretched out her hand to where the door had been. Nothing. She reached down, and touched wet rock.
“Well, there’s a floor. Let’s have our bike lamps out and see what sort of place this is.”
They took off their knapsacks and rummaged around among the lemonade and sandwiches.
By the light of the lamps they saw that they were at the mouth of a tunnel that stretched away into the darkness.
“Now what do we do?”
“We can’t go back, can we, even if we wanted to?”
“No,” said Susan, “but I don’t like the look of this.”
“Neither do I, but we haven’t really much choice; come on.”
They shouldered their packs and started off along the tunnel, but seconds later a slight noise brought them whirling round, their hearts in their mouths.
“That’s torn it!” said Colin, gazing up at the shaft, into which the cupboard was disappearing. “They’ll be on to us in no time now.”
The children went as fast as they could, stumbling over the uneven floor, and bruising themselves against the walls. The air was musty, and within a minute they were gasping as though they had run a mile, but on they sped, with two thoughts in their heads – to escape from whatever was following them, and to find Cadellin or Fenodyree. If only this were Fundindelve!
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