“I see; but what of it? Rooks flock homeward daily at this hour, and in greater numbers than are flying there.”
“Did you not hear the stromkarl say that no bird flies this day? Those are not rooks: you would be torn asunder within the minute. They know where Cadellin is as well as I, and that we must find him.”
“Then how shall we do this?”
“We must go stealthily, on foot, and seek him in the hills.”
Colin looked at the rolling mass of the Pennines, out of which the first shadows of night were creeping.
“But how do we find him up there, and how can we move without being seen? It’s nearly all open moorland.”
“We move by day, when their eyes are weakest, and if there is scant cover for us, there is more chance that we shall see the morthbrood from afar. As for Cadellin, I am to meet him on the summit of Shuttlingslow yonder at dawn on the morning of the fourth day from this. There is little hope of finding him sooner. Our greatest task will be to avoid the morthbrood for so long.”
They headed for the farm with all speed, keeping under cover wherever possible, though the lanes were almost deserted at that time of day. Only the occasional farm-labourer cycling home disturbed their progress, for the dwarfs insisted on hiding at any sign of life. “The morthbrood travel in many guises,” said Durathror.
They came over the Riddings as the first stars were shining, and they saw Gowther’s solid figure, Scamp at his heels, going the round of the shippons and stables to fasten up for the night. The individual, isolated sounds of twilight, the clink of a chain, the rattle of a door, the ring of boots on cobbles, carried far on the evening air.
Gowther was crossing to the house as the weary party entered the farmyard.
“Hallo!” he said, eyeing them up and down. “What have we got here? You look as if you’ve been through every marlpit between here and Wornish Nook! Hey, and wheer are your bikes?”
“It is a good story, farmer Mossock,” said Fenodyree, “but I would fain have a roof over my head for the telling of it.”
“What?” said Gowther. He peered hard at the dwarf. “Here, wait a minute: I know thee! You’re the feller as threatened me some months back, anner you? Well, I’ve got a bone or two to pick with thee; and I’d like to know what mischief you’ve been getting these childer into!”
He loomed over the dwarf, and made to grab hold of him, but Widowmaker came from her scabbard like lightning, and the broad blade’s point rested against Gowther’s cask of a chest.
“I am he: and much sorrow has come of your words that day, though it is not of my doing.
“I mean you no harm, farmer Mossock, and I crave your help; but every moment we stand here exposed to watching eyes adds to our peril. Let us right our grievances behind locked doors.”
“You’ve got to trust him, Gowther!”
“You must!” cried Susan. “He’s saved our lives more than once today!”
“And it is dangerous to be out here!”
“You’ll understand when we tell you!”
Gowther looked at the anguished faces of the children, then down at the steady blade.
“All reet,” he said slowly. “You can come in. But you dunner move a step towards the door while you’ve got that thing in your hond. And think on, I want an explanation; and it had best be good!”
Fenodyree sheathed his sword, and smiled.
“It will be interesting, farmer Mossock.”
“Well! This is the rummest do I’ve come across! It is that! What about thee, Bess?”
Bess was ironing Fenodyree’s rapidly washed tunic, and she pointed with her flat-iron at the two dwarfs, who were squatting on either side of the hearth wrapped in blankets.
“Theer’s little use in saying pigs conner fly, when you see them catching swallows! But I dunner like the sound of it at all.
“And you say as you’ve to get our Bridestone to the top of Shuttlingslow by Friday morning? Well, that wunner be difficult. You two con stay here, if you’ve a mind to, and catch a bus from Macclesfield to Wildboarclough, and then all you’ll have to do is climb up the hill and meet your wizard.”
“We must take no chances,” said Fenodyree. “That would be a dangerous course; we shall go on foot.”
“Well, I don’t see it, myself,” sniffed Bess.
“When do we start?” asked Susan.
“At dawn tomorrow. We dare not stay long in any place.”
“‘We’?” said Bess. “Oh, no! If you think you’re dragging these two childer off on your madcap errands you con think again!”
“Oh, but Bess …!!”
“Ay, it’s all very well saying ‘but Bess’! What would your mother do if she knew of these goings on? She’s enough to worry about as it is. And look at the state you were in this evening! You conner run risks like that and get away with it every time.”
“Mistress Mossock,” said Durathror, “the Stonemaiden and her brother are children, but they have warriors’ hearts: they deserve well of this quest.”
“That’s as may be. But what should we say to their parents if they went out of here in the morning, and never came back? We’re responsible for them, tha knows.”
“If Colin and Susan do not see this through to the end in the company of those best fitted to help them,” said Fenodyree, “their chances of ever setting eyes on parents or home again will be less than little. They have thwarted evil this day, and it will be a pledge of honour for witch and svart alike to make good that wrong. It would be madness to leave them unprotected here.”
“Ay, I follow your meaning – if all we’ve heard is true,” said Gowther. “Yon’s a good point. But we’re still responsible, choose how you look at it.” He stood up to knock his pipe out against the bars of the grate. “I’ll be coming with you in the morning.”
As soon as the dwarfs were dressed, they wrapped themselves in their blankets and said they would sleep for a couple of hours, but they were to be woken immediately at the least hint of trouble. They had already seen to it that everybody’s bedding had been brought down into the kitchen, for they insisted that they should all stay in the one room that night, with ample supplies of food, light, and fuel.
At nine o’clock Durathror awoke and said he was going outside to see how the land lay.
He stole across the farmyard and up the hill to the top of the Riddings. The light north-easter that had been blowing for many days had veered to the north, and was much stronger. The full moon was rising in a clear sky; clear, except for the north. There, banks of cloud were piling on the horizon, and Durathror frowned. He sniffed the air, and looked warily all about him.
“Wind’s getting up a bit, inner it?” said Gowther when the dwarf returned.
“Ay: it is not a good wind: I have doubts.”
Colin and Susan had dropped off to sleep very early, and by eleven o’clock Gowther and Bess were nodding in their chairs.
Shortly before midnight Scamp began to growl. It started as a distant rumble deep in his chest, and grew to a hard-throated snarl. His lips curled and his hackles rose. Durathror and Fenodyree quietly drew their swords and took up stations either side of the door. Scamp barked, but Gowther hushed him and sent him under the table; yet still he whined, and growled, and rolled his eyes. All ears were straining to catch the least sound, but no sound came.
“Happen it’s a fox,” whispered Gowther.
Fenodyree