The Moon of Gomrath by Alan Garner Page A

hope for much if they thought we were in the way.”
    â€œNow was that bravely done?”
    Colin and Susan jumped as the voice broke in on them. They peered in the direction from which it had come, and saw a dwarf standing under the trees.
    â€œUthecar!” shouted Colin, and they ran down the hill to meet him. “Uthecar?”
    â€œWho are you?” said Susan.
    The dwarf looked at them. “How shall we undo all this?” he said.
    He was dressed in black, and there was a gold-hilted sword at his waist. His hair and beard were cleanly cut, and he carried himself proudly, and his voice was firm, so that the authority of his bearing removed all ill-nature from his words.
    â€œI’m – sorry,” said Colin. “What have we done wrong? Was all that our fault?”
    â€œHow was it not? None but fools would bring fire to the mound at any time; but to do so on this night of all nights of the year, and to burn wendwood! What is Cadellin thinking to let you from his sight? But come, we must see what your friends will do: it may not be too late to put them back in the mounds.”
    â€œBut we’ll never find them!” cried Susan. “They galloped off like the wind.”
    â€œI think they have not gone far,” said the dwarf. “Let us see.” He strode away, and the children ran to keep up with him.
    â€œBut what’s it all about?” said Colin. “Who were they? And who was – he?”
    â€œThe Wild Hunt. The Herlathing. That is what you have sent out on us. It was enough to rouse the Hunter; he alone would have taken some laying. But now that theEinheriar ride after him we shall have to act quickly, or wide numbers will go to sleep with light in their eyes, and only the raven will find profit! But quiet now: I think we are on them.”
    They had come to a cliff-top over a valley. The dwarf crawled to the edge and looked down. Colin and Susan joined him, but although they could hear movement at the foot of the cliff they could see nothing, for the rock overhung the ground below. They crawled along to where the cliff fell away to a sloping bank, and from this bank they could see clearly.
    They were at the Holywell, and the second gate of Fundindelve. Along the path that ran past the well the Einheriar were drawn in line, and at the well, his antlers nearly level with the children’s faces, was Garanhir, the Hunter. He held a cup of some white metal, and the riders took it one after the other and drank deeply, then lifted it and poured the last drops over their heads, and moved on.
    For each rider Garanhir stooped and filled the cup from the well, and the water gleamed as the old, straight track had done at the touch of the spear, and all the marsh below shone red.
    The dwarf worked back from the edge, and beckoned the children to follow him. He took them round thehead of the valley and along the opposite ridge to where they could watch the silhouettes of the Einheriar against the dim glow.
    â€œWe are too late,” said the dwarf. “Now that they have drunk at the well this is wizard’s work. Beard of the Dagda! Are we to talk until all that ever slept is woken? Which may happen yet, for once the Old Magic moves, it moves deeply – even without the help of wendfires!
    â€œListen: do you see where we are now? Over the ridge behind us are the iron gates; have you the opening of them?”
    â€œYes – I think so,” said Susan.
    â€œThen go to Cadellin: tell him that the Einheriar ride. We shall keep watch here.
    â€œAll right.”
    Susan disappeared, and a few minutes later the ground quivered under their feet, and the skyline of the ridge was tinged with blue. Colin turned back to look at the Holywell. Although the light was not good, he could tell that the riders were milling together, and he could hear hoofs stamping restlessly.
    â€œI think they’re going,” said Colin. “What shall we do?”
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