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of grey water through trees.
    â€œMen thought to drain that land and live there, butthe spirit of the place entered them, and their houses were built drab and desolate, and without cheer; and all around the bog still sprawls, from out the drear lake come soulless thoughts and drift into the hearts of the people, and they are one with their surroundings.
    â€œAh! But there goes he who can tell us more about the stone.”
    He pointed to a speck floating high over the plain, and whistled shrilly.
    â€œHi, Windhover! To me!”
    The speck paused, then came swooping through the air like a black falling star, growing larger every second, and, with a hollow beating of wings, landed on Fenodyree’s outstretched arm – a magnificent kestrel, fierce and proud, whose bright eyes glared at the children.
    â€œStrange company for dwarfs, I know,” said Fenodyree, “but they have been prey of the morthbrood, and so are older than their years.
    â€œIt is of Grimnir that we want news. He went by here: did he seek the lake?”
    The kestrel switched his gaze to Fenodyree, and gave a series of sharp cries, which obviously meant more to the dwarf that they did to the children.
    â€œAy, it is as I thought,” he said when the bird fellsilent. “A mist crossed the plain a while since, as fast as a horse can gallop, and sank into Llyn-dhu.
    â€œAh well, so be it. Now I must away back to Cadellin, for we shall have much to talk over and plans to make. Farewell now, my friends. Yonder is the road: take it. Remember us, though Cadellin forbade you, and wish us well.”
    â€œGoodbye.”
    Colin and Susan were too full to say more; it was an effort to speak, for their throats were tight and dry with anguish. They knew that Cadellin and Fenodyree were not being deliberately unkind in their anxiety to be rid of them, but the feeling of responsibility for what had happened was as much as they could bear.
    So it was with heavy hearts that the children turned to the road: nor did they speak or look back until they had reached it. Fenodyree, standing on the seat, legs braced apart, with Windhover at his wrist, was outlined against the sky. His voice came to them through the still air.
    â€œFarewell, my friends!”
    They waved to him in return, but could find no words.
    He stood there a moment longer before he jumped down and vanished along the path to Fundindelve. Andit was as though a veil had been drawn across the children’s eyes.

The Journey from Highmost Redmanhey

C HAPTER 8
M IST OVER L LYN-DHU
    A utumn came, and in September Colin and Susan started school. Work on the farm kept them busy outside school hours, and it was not often they visited the Edge. Sometimes at the weekend they could go there, but then the woods were peopled with townsfolk who, shouting and crashing through the undergrowth, and littering the ground with food wrappings and empty bottles, completely destroyed the atmosphere of the place. Once, indeed, Colin and Susan came upon a family sprawled in front of the iron gates. Father, his back propped against the rock itself, strained, redder than his braces, to lift his voice above the blare of a portable radio to summon his children to tea. They were playing at soldiers in the Devil’s Grave.
    Nothing remained. This place, where beauty and terror had been as opposite sides of the same coin, was now a playground of noise. Its spirit was dead – or hidden. There was nothing to show that svart or wizard had ever existed: nothing, except a barn full of owls at Highmost Redmanhey, and an empty wrist where once a bracelet had been.
    The loss of the bracelet was the cause of slight friction between the Mossocks and the children. Bess was the first to notice that the stone had gone, and Susan, not knowing what to do for the best, poured out the whole story. It was really too much for anyone to digest at once, and Bess could not think what to make of it at all. She was upset