with the same rune as that on the lintel outside the cavern and around his neck he wore a great oval-shaped amulet made of the precious blue stone from the mines of Thurgo in the far west. His deep-set grey eyes peered out from under two thick bushy eyebrows and his thin gently hooked nose gave his face an expression of sternness and gravity. Perched on one of the arms of the seat was a large golden eagle which stared at the newcomers with curiosity. When Malcoff spoke, it was with all the craggy dignity of the mountains themselves.

‘I bid you welcome,’ he said slowly and gravely. ‘You will forgive me, I hope, if I do not stand to greet you. My legs will not permit it. They have grown old before their master and will no longer obey him. But I have Curbar,’ he looked up fondly at the eagle, ‘and I have my chairs.’ He pointed to what looked to Beth like a sedan chair which lay on the floor at his side.

‘Come closer, so that I may see you,’ he went on. ‘We have heard a lot about you; you would perhaps be surprised at your fame. You have done well to get here, there have been occasions when we have thought you lost. But I fear there is little space for pleasantries; our time runs short and the Urkku know you are here. You will be aware of course, of the rumours that pursue you?’ he asked, and Beth replied that the old couple down the hill who had protected and sheltered them for the night had told them. At the mention of Jim and Ivy the Elflord’s eyes grew cloudy.

‘It was indeed fortunate that you passed their way; perhaps Ashgaroth guided you. We have always known them as of the Eldron; they would come often to Rengoll’s Tor and we would try to speak with them. Yet I have grave news for you.’ He looked down at the floor and the friends’ hearts turned over with the grim certainty of what they knew he was about to say.

‘No!’ Beth cried. ‘Oh no.’

Malcoff continued. ‘They did not die in vain. They gave you time and without that you would not be here now. So do not weep or grieve for them; they would not wish it. They loved you and they died for you and they died contented. They are with Ashgaroth, watching you. Come and sit.’

He gestured towards a stone bench in the wall and Nab, with his arm round Beth’s sobbing shoulders, led her across to it. They both felt sick with grief and remorse. If only Jim and Ivy had come with them or, better still, if they had never met, then the old couple would still be alive. Malcoff’s assurance that they died for the travellers only made their gnawing feelings of guilt worse. Yet Nab somehow found a strength and put his heart into trying to comfort Beth who was weeping uncontrollably.

Malcoff spoke again. ‘You must be tired and in need of rest. Nab, do your best to soothe her. I will see you later. Morar; show them their chamber.’

They went back through the door and into the great cavern, where Morar led them off into a little square stone room with a huge blazing fire at one end. Food and drink had been laid out for them on the floor.

‘I will come for you later,’ said Morar, and he went out.

They walked over to the fire which was warm and welcoming and Nab sat Beth down next to him on a stone bench which he pulled across from one of the walls and put in front of it. None of them had much appetite and they picked disconsolately at the food and ate in silence.

‘Come on, Beth. Try and drink this. It’ll make you feel better,’ said Nab gently and he handed her a stone goblet full of a dark golden liquid which he’d picked up from the floor. She took a sip and felt stronger and thought of Malcoff’s words. Now that the initial shock had worn off, they did seem to bring some comfort. With a supreme effort she forced herself to take hold of her emotions and, looking up at Nab, she forced a smile. She was rewarded by the look of relief that came into Nab’s eyes.

‘I’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘Why did they do it, Nab?’

‘That’s what we’re fighting, ’ he replied. ‘That’s why we’re here and why we’ve come through everything.’

‘I wonder what’s going to happen now,’ said Perryfoot, moving a bit further back from the fire where he was getting too hot.

‘The Lord Malcoff will tell us soon,’ Warrigal muttered to himself. ‘We shall know soon enough.’

Brock looked up at his old friend where he was perched on the stone bench next to Beth.

‘You look tired,’ he said with some surprise. He and Perryfoot had been in an exhausted daze ever since they had arrived at the cottage of the Eldron but Warrigal had always seemed to be on top of himself, always clear-thinking and in control. Now he also seemed worn out. His feathers looked dull and scruffy and his eyes had lost their usual fire and sparkle.

‘I am,’ said the owl. ‘We all are. We could go no further. I want to go home; back to Silver Wood to sit on the Great Beech and look out over the fields towards the pond. I want to roost in the rhododendrons and go to the quarterly Council Meetings to gossip and chat about small unimportant things. I want to stay in one place and watch the seasons as they come and go. Yes; I’m tired of travelling.’

They looked at Warrigal and were grateful to him for expressing what they all felt. No one spoke for they became lost in thoughts of home; for Beth a home that she was now certain she would never see again and for the other animals a home that was no more. The elves had laid out some dry brown bracken in one corner of the room and Brock suggested that they lie down and try and get some sleep. It crackled as they settled down in it and a little cloud of dust rose into the room and made Perryfoot and Beth sneeze. The familiar, fragrant, almost scented smell of the bracken was comforting but, despite the fact that they were all very tired, it took them all a long time to get to sleep, and when finally they did, it was a restless, fitful sleep full of strange confused dreams in which pictures of the past mingled with those of the present. In all their minds was the thought that tomorrow would see the end of their mission, the culmination of everything, and the blood was racing through their veins far too quickly to leave them in peace.

It was Moon-High outside when Nab suddenly woke up to see Morar standing by the door.

‘The Lord Malcoff sent me to ask you to come to him again. There is much to discuss before the sun rises.’

Nab looked at Beth tossing beside him and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She woke immediately and seeing Morar guessed that it was time for their talk with Malcoff. The others had woken up at the sound of the elf’s voice and now they followed him out into the main cavern and back to the Elflord’s room, pleased to have escaped from the dark unsettling world of their dreams. There was a lot of activity in all the various chambers and anterooms round the walls; elves were bustling to and fro, there was much hammering and banging, and music was everywhere; an intensely rhythmical music with a heavy beat and many pipes playing together to form a stirring wave of sound.

Malcoff welcomed them as they entered.

‘I trust the noise of our preparations did not disturb you,’ he said, ‘but there is a lot to be done. Please sit while we talk. Now,’ he continued, leaning forward and with an urgency in his voice, ‘our scouts have been up to the surface to see what the situation is and they report that the Urkku have completely surrounded the Tor and have erected huts and tents with an obvious intention of remaining for a long time. They know you are here somewhere and will stay until you come out. They have plenty of supplies and will bring in replacements if needed during the winter. Many of their leaders are goblins who have assumed the appearance of Urkku and their powers are such that they can persuade the rest to do their bidding. They could of course bombard the Tor with their weapons; they have them here, in the hope of destroying you, but they will not for they want you alive and in any case you would be safe under here and Dréagg knows that. This is his last chance of finding you and he wants you alive so that he may discover the intentions of Ashgaroth.’