Now they were standing in a high vaulted cavern roughly oval in shape with huge stone pillars round the walls that formed archways through which were many different anterooms and chambers. Some of these had doors while others were open, and in them the animals could see the elves going about their work. It reminded Beth of a medieval cathedral, particularly as the stone floor had been inlaid with hundreds of different coloured minerals to form patterns. It was from these that most of the light came and, as they followed Morar along a central aisle in the cavern with gold and blue and silver light shining up under their chins lighting their faces from below, they had the eerie feeling that they were walking upside down. High above them, an occasional streak of silver showed up massive natural rock columns which supported the roof.
Soon they were at the far end of the cavern, standing in front of a door set into the rock face. Morar lifted the stone latch and the door swung open easily at his touch to reveal a small room with a figure sitting on a seat at the far end which had been hewn out of the rock. Morar bowed.
‘My Lord Malcoff,’ he said. ‘I present the travellers from Silver Wood.’
The animals all followed Morar’s example and inclined their heads. When they looked up again Malcoff was smiling. Nab’s first impression of him was of immense age; his skin was of a deep dark brown and it was covered with hundreds of little lines and wrinkles like a piece of old bark. The hands which clutched the carved armrests in the rock were very long and thin and bony. Long grey hair the colour of granite hung down his back and there was a band around his forehead with a shimmering blood-red stone in the centre. The single ring on the index finger of his left hand was carved
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.