Alan Garner - The Weirdstone of Brisingamen

And Gowther told Colin and Susan the legend of Alderley.

“Well, it seems as how theer was once a farmer from Mobberley as had a milk-white mare…

“…and from that day to this no one has ever seen the gates or the wizard again.”

“Is that a true story?” said Colin.

“Theer’s some as reckons it is. But if it did happen it was so long ago that even the place wheer the iron gates are supposed to be has been forgotten. I say yon’s nobbut a legend: but it makes fair telling after a good meal.”

“Yes,” said Susan, “but you know, our father has always said that there’s no smoke without a fire.”

“Ay, happen he’s getten summat theer!” laughed Gowther.

The meal over, Colin and Susan went with Gowther to take some eggs to an old widow who lived in a tiny cottage a little beyond the farm boundary. And when they were returning across the Riddings, which was the name of the steep hill-field above Highmost Redmanhey, Gowther pointed to a large black bird that was circling above the farmyard.

“Hey! Sithee yon carrion Crow! I wonder what he’s after. If he dunner shift himself soon!”ll take my shotgun to him. We dunner want ony of his sort round here, for they’re a reet menace in the lambing season.”

Early in the evening Colin, who had been very taken with the legend of the wizard, suggested another walk on the Edge, this time to find the iron gates.

“Ay, well I wish you luck! You’re not the first to try, and I dunner suppose you’ll be the last.”

“Take your coats with you.” said Bess. “It gets chilly on the top at this time o’ day.”

Colin and Susan roamed all over Stormy Point. and beyond, but there were so many rocks and boulders, any of which could have hidden the gates, that they soon tired of shouting “Abracadabra!” and “Open, Sesame!” and instead lay down to rest upon a grassy bank just beneath the crest of a spur of the Edge, and watched the sun drop towards the rim of the plain.

“I think it’s time we were going, Colin,” said Susan when the sun had almost disappeared. “If we don’t reach the road before dark we could easily lose our way.”

“All right: but lets go back to Stormy Point along the other side of this ridge, just for a change. We’ve not been over there yet.”

He turned, and Susan followed him over the crest of the hill into the trees.

Once over the ridge, they found themselves in a dell, bracken and boulder filled, and edged with rocks, in which were cracks, and fissures, and small caves; and before them a high-vaulted beech wood marched steeply down into the dusk. The air was still and heavy, as though waiting for thunder; the only sound the concentrated whine of mosquitoes; and the thick sweet smell of bracken and flies was everywhere.

“I… I don’t like this place. Colin,” said Susan: “I feel that we’re being watched.”

Colin did not laugh at her as he might normally have done. He, too, had that feeling between the shoulder-blades; and he could easily have imagined that something was moving among the shadows of the rocks; something that managed to keep out of sight. So he gladly turned to climb back to the path.

They had moved barely a yard up the dell when Colin stopped and laughed.

“Look! Somebody is watching us!”

Perched on a rock in front of them was a bird. Its head was thrust forward, and it stared unwinkingly at the two children.

“It’s the carrion crow that was round the farm after tea!” cried Susan.

“Talk sense! How can you tell it’s the same one? There are probably dozens of them about here.”

All the same, Colin did not like the way the bird sat hunched there so tensely, almost eagerly: and they had to pass it if they wanted to regain the path. He took a step forward, waved his arms in the air, and cried “Shoo!” in a voice that sounded woefully thin and unfrightening.

The crow did not move.

Colin and Susan moved forward, longing to run, but held by the crow’s eye. And as they reached the centre of the dell the bird gave a loud, sharp croak. Immediately a cry answered from among the rocks, and out of the shadows on either side of the children rose a score of outlandish figures.

They stood about three feet high and were man-shaped, with thin, wiry bodies and limbs, and broad, flat feet and hands. Their heads were large, having pointed ears round saucer eyes, and gaping mouths which showed teeth. Some had pug-noses, others thin snouts reaching to their chins. Their hides were generally of a fish-white colour, though some were black, and all were practically hairless. Some held coils of black rope, while out of one of the caves advanced a group carrying a net woven in the shape of a spider’s web.

For a second the children were rooted: but only for a second. Instinct took control of their wits. They raced back along the dell and flung themselves through the gap into the beech wood. Fingers clawed, and ropes hissed like snakes but they were through and plunging down the slope in a flurry of dead leaves.

“Stop. Sue!” yelled Colin.

He realized that their only hope of escape lay in reaching open ground and the path that led from Stormy Point to the road, where their longer legs might outdistance their pursuers’, and even that seemed a slim chance.

“Stop, Sue! We must… not go… down… any farther! Find… Stormy Point… somehow!”

All the while he was looking for a recognizable landmark, since in the fear and dusk he had lost his bearings, and all he knew was that their way lay uphill and not down.

Then, through the trees, he saw what he needed.

About a hundred feet above them and to their right a tooth-shaped boulder stood against the sky: its distinctive shape had caught his eye when they had walked past it along a track coming from Stormy Point.

“That boulder! Make for that boulder!”

Susan looked where he was pointing, and nodded.

They began to flounder up the hill, groping for firm ground with hands and feet beneath the knee-high sea of dead leaves. Their plunge had taken them diagonally across the slope, and their upward path led away from the dell, otherwise they would not have survived.

The others had come skimming lightly down over the surface of the leaves, and had found it difficult to check their speed, when they saw the quick change of direction. Now they scurried across to intercept the children, bending low over the ground as they ran.

Slowly Colin and Susan gained height until they were at the same level as the pursuit then above it, and the danger of being cut off from the path was no longer with them. But their lead was a bare ten yards, and shortening rapidly, until Colin’s fingers, scrabbling beneath the leaves dosed round something firm. It was a fallen branch, still bushy with twigs, and he tore it from the soil and swung it straight into the leaders, who went clamouring, head over heels, into those behind in a tangle of ropes and nets.

This gained Colin and Susan precious yards and seconds, though their flight was still nightmare: for unseen twigs rolled beneath their feet, and leaves dragged leadenly about their knees. But at last they pulled themselves on to the path.

“Come on, Sue!” Colin gasped. “Run for it! They’re not far… behind… now!”

The children drew energy from their fear, Above their heads a bird cried harshly three times, and at once the air was filled with the beating of a gong. The sound seemed to come from a distance, yet it was all about them, in the air and under the ground.

Then they ran clear of the trees and on to Stormy Point. But their relief was short lived; for whereas till that moment they had been fleeing from twenty or so, they were now confronted with several hundred of the creatures as they came out of the Devil’s Grave like ants from a nest.