Prince Emberand the Shadow Witch were now rapidly approaching the Cave Hall. On their way they passed other vaulted chambers, like the one they had just left, and glancing into these as they hastened by, they saw great urns with ponderous lids, and enormous chests, all marked with the signs of the Wizard, filled, as the Shadow Witch was well aware, with those evil things with which he worked his spells, but not an Imp was anywhere to be seen.
She glided cautiously to the door of one of these rooms and peeped in. Shefound, as she had supposed, that it was the bedchamber of her brother. His huge bed, with its jet black coverings and pillows stood ready to receive him; his tall chair was set close beside it. Near by was his special treasure chest, in which his choicest wands and spellbooks were locked carefully away from prying fingers, but this room was as silent and deserted as all the rest.
On a sudden they heard loud rapping, which became still louder, and then a harsh voice crying out in angry tones, again and yet again.
“It is my brother calling for his Imps,” whispered the Shadow Witch. “He is not used to have them tarry when he summons them.”
It was as she said: the Wizard, in the Cave Hall, was grey with rage. Never before had he called to his servants withouttheir scurrying on nimble feet to learn his desires, but this time he had struck repeatedly upon the arm of his chair, and had lifted his voice louder and louder, yet neither the Chief Imp nor any other came. He knew where and how they should be employed at this time, and if they were doing their duty, they were within sound of his voice. How they could dare not to answer him, how they could be deaf when he summoned them, the Wizard could not understand.
The Shadow Witch stole closer to Prince Ember, and spoke beneath her breath. “The Wizard is but a few yards from us,” she said. “A moment more, and we must encounter him. I do not fear him now, for in this part of the Cave my power has always been fully equal to his own. The truth is, I have more than once defeated him here. He remembersit well. Yet—I was long bound by that dark prison—long subject to his power. Before I return to the Land of Shadows, I must test myself, for I wish to be certain that I can still meet and defy him in his Cave Hall without being conquered by him; but in order to make sure of myself I must go before him quite alone.”
Prince Ember shook his head. “I would not have you venture it,” he objected. “The risk is too great.”
“Not when you are near me,” she told him confidently. “If the moment should come when I know that I am unable to resist him longer, I will call to you, and you will hasten to my help.”
Reluctantly the Prince consented, and she glided away from him with soundless footsteps. Close, close behind her he followed till they reached the thresholdof the Cave Hall. There he tarried out of sight, yet where his eyes could still keep guard over her.
The Wizard, provoked beyond measure by the inattention of his servants, was about to rise from his chair to go and learn the reason, and to punish them, when suddenly a low-toned laugh struck on his ears. It startled him, for it was the familiar laughter of his sister—his sister, whom he believed to be far away, hopelessly imprisoned in the deepest recesses of his cavern. He turned his head in the direction from whence it came, and as he half rose from his seat, puzzled and uncertain, it echoed a second time through the Cave. It came from close by, in that dusky corridor that led to his own bedchamber, led to the rooms beyond where the Imps were busy, ay—and led on still further to his Pit ofFumes. By that way his sister could not pass. He smiled cruelly as he thought of that inconquerable barrier to her coming. By the other way there was the double wall, sealed by his enchantment. Remembering these things he was certain that he but imagined that he had heard her echoing laugh.
Even as he said this, he heard it again, and stealing toward him from out the corridor came a grey figure, laughing as she came. He gazed at it in wonder. It could not really be the Shadow Witch, he told himself. It must be that his eyes were deceiving him.
Impossible as it seemed, however, he presently saw that it was she who stood before him, knew that it was her own voice that rang clear and triumphant in his ears.
“The dungeon in which you thoughtto hold me was not strong enough when that day came of which I warned you, brother,” she declared. “By a power stronger than yours I have escaped, and I am here in proof that you have failed. In this place, as you well know, you can do naught against me.”
The Wizard’s eyes flashed fire. He made a step forward with hands outstretched to seize her. “Do not boast too soon,” retorted he. “I have yet a spell to conquer you even here.”
Although the Shadow Witch held her head high in defiance of him, she retreated a few paces. It was true, as she had said, that she was not afraid, but she did not mean to be without caution. She would make her test quickly. If she could but baffle him once more with that old trick of hers, that thus far had neverfailed to confound him, she would know that she was safe against him.
She waved her grey sleeves, and instantly there fell between her and the Wizard her magic curtain, her moving curtain of shadow. Before it stood a shadow image, so like to herself that it deceived even the keen eyes of the Wizard. Behind the curtain she herself was perfectly concealed.
It was done so quickly, so skilfully, that the Wizard did not guess what had happened. He snatched at the image but when he had almost grasped it, it withdrew from him swiftly. When he pursued it, it darted now to this side, now to that, with marvelous agility, always seeming just within reach of his fingers, yet always just eluding them as they began to close upon it, and each time hefailed he heard the laughter that so mocked him.
A triumphant smile stole over the face of the Shadow Witch, for she saw plainly that she was still able to defend herself against him. Knowing how easily she could escape now from the Cave Hall with Prince Ember, she was about to beckon to him, but she was too late, for in that moment the Wizard snatched more swiftly than he had yet done at the gliding figure before the curtain, and this time not in vain. His hands closed upon it, indeed, but closed on nothingness, and thus he learned that he had once more been cheated by his sister’s art.
Filled with wrath, he shouted words of enchantment, in a voice loud and compelling, and in answer to them dense darkness descended swiftly over all theCave Hall, making it as black as the prison from whence the Shadow Witch had escaped. That which she had not believed that he could do here, he had done. Before the darkness her shadow curtain dissolved, and she herself, crying aloud, sank down helpless to the Cave floor.
Now at last the Wizard was certain that she was utterly in his power, was certain that there was none near to hear or answer the sharp cry for help which she had given when she fell. He bent down through the gloom to seize her, but as he did so, the darkness broke and fled, and in its place a rich warm light came flooding through the Cave Hall. It shone upon the evil face of the Wizard stooping there; it made plain the form of the Shadow Witch where she lay.
Startled by this strange light, the Wizardthrew back his head to discover from whence it came, and beheld in the doorway the figure of Prince Ember, standing with the Sword of Fire upraised.
It was from the Sword that this ruddy glow streamed forth, and as the Prince advanced rapidly into the Cave Hall, the light grew more intense, so that the Wizard could not bear to look upon its beauty, nor could he bear the strong pure heat that flowed from the Sword as it drew nearer and more near.
Anguish seized him, and a weakness greater even than he had felt before the Sword of Flames in the hands of Prince Radiance. He gave a hoarse cry to his servants for help, but they, voiceless and motionless prisoners in their vaulted chamber, could not answer, could not come to him, although they heard him call.
He tried to struggle to his feet, but it was quite in vain. Instead he fell prone upon the ground. As he lay there, he saw his sister rise from where his evil spell had cast her, saw her grow strong again, saw joy and courage beam in her face. Her eyes were lifted to this stranger, come to succor her with the glowing light and warmth of his conquering Sword. By all these things he knew that the Prince, of whom Black Shadow had warned him, had come at last.
Prince Ember stretched above his prostrate form the fiery Sword. “Cruel and wicked master of the Cave,” he cried, “here shall you lie in bondage to this Sword until the hour when your sister stands safely within her own borders. Cry not to your servants yonder. They, too, are bound by my spell andcannot answer. Cry not to your guardians of the Cave Mouth. They also shall be enchained.”
Deep into the frame of the Wizard the magic of the Sword pierced its way. He saw, as in a vision, the Prince put back his Sword. With dulling eyes, he beheld his sister take the hand which the stranger tenderly extended to her. He perceived them go together from the Cave Hall, and into that corridor that led to freedom.
Then all sense and thought forsook him. The spell of the Sword of Fire had so penetrated his inmost being that he no longer was aware that beyond the Cave lurked Curling Smoke and the Ash Goblin, and that farther away the Wind in the Chimney waited, all pledged to destroy Prince Ember, and to prevent the escape of the Shadow Witch.
Meanwhile the two pursued their way to the Cave’s mouth. At its entrance those Imps who had been sent to guard it still kept vigilant watch. None had ventured to sleep or to stir from his post, for though the time had been long, and no one had tried to pass them, they dared not be unfaithful to their trust. They feared the Wizard’s wrath and the punishment that would surely befall them, if anything should go amiss through fault of theirs.
But as Prince Ember and the Shadow Witch approached them, a strange and unfamiliar warmth stole over the watchers, benumbing all their senses. Drowsiness came down upon them where they stood or sat, and with one accord they began to nod, to sink off to sleep, and presently they were wrapped in a slumberso profound that nothing could possibly break it.
This, too, was the spell of the Sword of Fire.
As the Shadow Witch passed the Imps and saw them sleeping there, some leaning upright against the rough wall of the cavern, some with heads bowed on knees, and others lying prostrate on the ground, she turned her head to her companion, with a smile.
“Vain are my brother’s guards,” she murmured, “when Prince Ember comes.”
Rejoicingin the freedom which she now felt was fully restored to her, the Shadow Witch glided from the Cave of Darkness and was about to descend the cliff, but Prince Ember laid a gentle hand upon her, to draw her back. “Dear Lady of the Shadows,” he said in an undertone, “we must not go unprotected into the open. It may be that unseen enemies are lurking there, who at least have power to hinder us, even if they cannot harm us. I have in my possession a magic Cloak, which will make us invisible to our enemies, and enable us to go securely and swiftly on our way.Let us put it on.” So saying, he drew her still closer to him, and took from his belt the Cloak of Ash and cast it about them both.
She thanked him sweetly for his constant care of her, and side by side they went down the cliff.
But though they were now unseen, they had stood for a moment before the Cave entrance, fully revealed, and in that moment the eyes of an enemy had caught sight of them.
Long had Curling Smoke crouched low in his cranny in the cliff-side. His gaze had roved unceasingly over the Plain of Ash. So vigilant was he that he was sure that none could possibly have approached the Wizard’s Cave without being seen by him from his hiding-place. Nevertheless, hour had dragged slowlyafter hour, and still the one for whom he waited did not appear.
The giant’s eyeballs ached, and grew dim at length from his steadfast watching. Had it not been for his keen desire to satisfy his own ancient grudge against the good fairies of the Fire, he would have broken his promise to the Wizard, and careless as to whether or not the Prince went by, he would have lain down to rest.
He wondered greatly at the delay, for, long since, Black Shadow had told him that the stranger was already within the Elf’s dwelling in the Borderland. If this were true, he should have reached the Cave by now. Curling Smoke could not imagine what this important matter could be which could detain the Prince so long, yet in spite of his weariness, hecontinued to look away in the direction of the Elf’s house.
Growing more and more restless and impatient, he finally rose a little in his place of concealment and thrust out his head far enough to see not only the expanse of the Plain and the path up the cliff-side, but the entrance to the Cave of Darkness as well. What was his astonishment to see two figures standing before it—one of them the grey-robed Shadow Witch, whom he knew well, the other a stranger, and clad in those ruddy garments by which Black Shadow had declared he might recognize Prince Ember. He could scarcely believe it to be possible that the Shadow Witch had escaped from her brother—that the Prince had crossed the Plain under his very eyes unseen. Yet there they were, almost in his grasp. Eager to snatch at them both,he was about to emerge from his hiding-place, when, to his discomfiture, they both vanished suddenly from his sight.
That they had gone back into the cavern he did not believe to be possible. Moreover their faces had been set toward the Plain. There could be no doubt that they had made themselves invisible, and were now on their way down the cliff.
Unseen though they were, he knew how he could entrap them, and hold them in his power. Determined to do this, he wound his form stealthily upward, and from his right hand he cast forth huge plumes and columns of smoke, which began to overspread the sky, and traveling swiftly, came on and on as his hand directed them, until they hung poised far above the heads of theunsuspecting Prince and his companion.
From his left hand long wreaths and streamers of smoke went out across the ground, creeping along fast and silently, veiling it so that none could see where his own feet trod.
Closer and closer from behind these, great smoke walls drew in, but the faces of the two were set steadily toward the Land of Shadows, and they knew naught of the danger which was so rapidly overtaking them.
Then, suddenly, by the enchanter’s power, a smoke wall, dense and impenetrable, fell from above directly before the travelers, setting a barrier between them and the land to which they were bound. All at once they found themselves in a vast chamber, hemmed in on every hand by the encompassing smoke.
The Shadow Witch was first to awaken to their peril. Casting her eyes downward by chance, she all at once became aware of a faint veil of smoke that was creeping round about her feet. Well did she know by that sign who was near. She cast her eyes hurriedly on all sides, and saw with alarm that the smoke was drawing in upon them from every quarter.
She caught Prince Ember’s arm, whispering anxiously, “Behold, my Prince, behold the smoke fog! This is the work of the powerful magician, Curling Smoke. We are entrapped.” At that same moment the smoke dropped down in front of them, making complete the walls of the vast chamber in which they stood imprisoned.
Prince Ember, beholding, was motionless with dismay. Flashing back tohis mind came the warning of his good friend the Elf. “Beware of Curling Smoke,” he had said. “None more wicked and dreadful than he inhabits the lands through which you must pass.”
How or when the giant had discovered the presence of himself and the Shadow Witch, the Prince could not guess, unless it had been in that one unguarded moment before the Cave, but now he was upon them with his enchantments, and he might be able to overpower them both, armed though they were with the Cloak of Ash and the Sword of Fire. In spite of his great courage, Prince Ember’s heart sank low in his breast before this fresh danger to his beloved Shadow Witch. Thinking intently of how best to act against this new foe, he stood silent.
Again the Shadow Witch whisperedlow: “See! Yonder from out the fog he comes, with his veils trailing from his arm—the Veil that Chokes—the Veil that Blinds! He has discovered us, and means to destroy us!”
Prince Ember cast his arm about her and pressed her dear head protectingly to his breast. Spurred on by his love for her his courage mounted high. Looking to where she directed his gaze, he, too, saw, looming out of the murky clouds, a great shape, fierce and terrible—the giant, Curling Smoke.
From his huge arms hung the veils of which the Shadow Witch had spoken, held always ready to use against any who provoked his wrath. He stood still, at some distance from them, and searched the dim spaces about him with piercing eyes, but seemed not to find the ones he sought.
“He does not see us, dearest,” spoke the Prince, under his breath. “The Cloak conceals us, as the Elf promised that it would.”
“True,” answered the Shadow Witch, “but before we escape this giant we must do battle with him. I know well his ways, and I doubt not that he has joined himself to my brother for our destruction.”
“I have a weapon which has not yet failed me,” the Prince assured her bravely. “With it I will meet him, and by using it valiantly shall hope to overcome him and deliver you.” He was about to draw the Sword of Fire, but the Shadow Witch prevented him.
“Not yet, not yet,” she besought him. “Fully do I trust the marvelous power of your Sword, and it will be potent here, I doubt not, if the moment of its using beright, but I have heard that Curling Smoke cannot be vanquished in his smoke chamber until he towers within it to his fullest height. This I believe I have the power to make him do, and when he has done so, I am sure you will not strike in vain. Till then let your Sword rest quiet in its sheath, but keep your hand upon its hilt, and when I give the word, draw it at once and strike quickly.”
“It shall be as you say,” the Prince promised her, looking into her uplifted face with tender love.
While they had said these things, Curling Smoke had remained where he was, waiting, as if in the hope that he might make visible, by his mere gazing, those whom he had entrapped. Presently they heard his voice crying aloud through the fog, “Let those beware who defy CurlingSmoke. Though they be invisible, they shall yet feel his power.”
Beneath the Cloak of Ash, the Shadow Witch raised her grey sleeves and waved them toward Curling Smoke. Prince Ember, watching to see what she was about to do, saw a creature, as if in answer to the giant’s cry, take shape from among the smoke wreaths that lay along the ground and begin to creep, half hidden by them, toward the giant.
Curling Smoke suddenly beheld it also, beheld it with curiosity and astonishment, for this was neither the Prince nor the Shadow Witch, both of whom he believed to be bound by his enchantment, but a stranger. How he had entered the smoke chamber, he did not know. Remaining, poised watchfully where he was, he kept his glittering eyes upon it, till it should draw nearer.
Before it reached him it began to rise, to grow larger as it rose, and he presently saw that it was a giant like himself, though smaller and less terrible. His head was bent and his face hidden.
Curling Smoke gazed upon the newcomer with indignation. “Who are you, who dare to venture unasked within the bounds that I have set?” he demanded imperiously.
The stranger made no answer, but ceasing to mount, stood poised directly in front of him, with his face still concealed.
“Know you not that I am the Master Magician and have power to destroy you instantly?” shouted Curling Smoke, lifting his huge hand in menace.
Still the creature did not reply.
Instantly Curling Smoke unloosed his terrible Veil that Chokes, and flung it athim. It smote against the drooped head of the unknown, but instead of suffocating him, as Curling Smoke had intended that it should, it floated harmlessly back again and hung itself about the enchanter’s arm.
Foiled though he had been in his first attempt, Curling Smoke was not discomfited. He shook free his Veil that Blinds. “This—this shall overcome you,” he cried boastfully. “Now shall you learn how great is the power of the Magician of Veils.” With skilful hands he so wielded it, that it struck full in the eyes of the intruder, even though his head was still bent low. Yet in spite of this, the second veil drifted back defeated to its place beside the Veil that Chokes.
Wrathful and puzzled because his veils had proved themselves thus powerlessagainst this silent and seemingly defenceless stranger, Curling Smoke thrust out his powerful arms to wind his adversary round and crush him, but the stranger melted from his coils, and stood beyond his grasp unharmed as before.
Then he began again to mount. He reached the magician’s shoulders, and shooting yet higher threw back his head.
Curling Smoke, looking upon him, saw to his amazement the face of Prince Ember; a giant now in size, and grey-robed, but still Prince Ember. What had become of the Shadow Witch, by what magic the Prince had become thus transformed, the magician could not guess, nor did he care, provided he but succeeded in conquering this hated visitant from the Land of Fire.
He regarded him in silence for a moment, pondering how he should accomplishit. Here was his match in size; here was one against whom his veils were powerless; here, too, was a creature who melted from his grasp when he thought to seize and twist him. What, then, remained for him to do? This only: to overtop him and smother him by casting himself down upon him from above.
Immediately he began to send himself upward in rapidly rising spirals, so that he might throw himself down upon the stranger with the greater force, but as he mounted, the other ascended also, faster and faster, higher and higher, always head and shoulders above Curling Smoke.
As Curling Smoke rose, he shouted threats and defiance, shaking his fist at his rival and glaring up at him with malicious and baneful eyes. But the otherstill maintained his strange silence and met his look unmoved.
Prince Ember watching this phantom of himself from the shelter of the Cloak of Ash, marvelled at the power of the Shadow Witch who, by her magic, could so delude their foe. As he watched, he held himself in readiness to draw his sword when his companion gave the word.
Still higher towered the phantom Prince, and after him sprang Curling Smoke, wreathing his murky spirals upward, and crying out more and more boisterously as he grew the more enraged by every vain effort to reach and overleap him.
The two had almost reached the dome, and Prince Ember’s hand tightened on his Sword, for he felt that the time to use it was near.
“Not yet, my Prince,” whispered the Shadow Witch. “Not yet.”
An arm’s length higher she sent her phantom, and made him pause. Seeing this, sure now that his enemy could go no further, Curling Smoke shot up with lightning swiftness and stood above him at last, stretched to his full height, an immensely tall and straight and slender column, poised on tiptoe to spring and overleap him. His voice rang out hoarsely. “Ah, now you shall not escape me! At last your time has come!”
“Strike!” breathed the Shadow Witch to the waiting Prince. “Strike now!”
Swiftly Prince Ember threw back the Cloak of Ash. The Sword of Fire glowed red as it swung through the air, and redder still as it struck the limbs of Curling Smoke and clove them. As the strange heat of that fairy Sword rushedthrough his giant frame, Curling Smoke became as naught. His limbs were seized with faintness and trembling. The phantom Prince vanished suddenly from before him, and his own Veil that Blinds rose in darkening folds across his eyes. The Veil that Chokes swept across his mouth, and his turbulent voice was stilled. He began to shrink upward, to waver and fade, and presently he drifted helplessly into the great smoke dome and was swallowed up in it.
Then, also, before the mighty heat that flowed from the Sword of Fire, the walls and dome of the vast smoke chamber, and the smoke wreaths upon the ground, were themselves dissolved, and Prince Ember and the Shadow Witch stood free in the Plain of Ash.
“Ah, my brave Prince! By your Sword of Fire, how gloriously you haveconquered!” exclaimed the Shadow Witch, with sparkling eyes.
“Forget not the magic of my dear Lady of the Shadows,” Prince Ember tenderly reminded her, “for without its aid this victory could scarcely have been won.”
The Shadow Witch laughed sweetly. “On, on together, then,” she cried.
Withthe perils of the Cave of Darkness left behind, with Curling Smoke vanquished and driven far off, the Shadow Witch was happy; and in her presence Prince Ember gave no thought for the moment to any further danger that might beset them.
Danger was not far distant. In the spot that he had chosen, the Ash Goblin worked fast and diligently upon the snare with which he meant to entrap Prince Ember, hoping that he might beable to complete it before the Prince arrived.
He could plainly see the Elf’s house from where he labored. He believed the Prince to be still within its walls, and he was sure that none as yet had crossed its threshold. With his twisted hands he took from the long bag hidden beneath his cloak the evil ash, of which alone his snare could be made, and sifted it carefully over the ground. Meanwhile he repeated the words of enchantment written in his Book of Craft, which he believed would make certain the capture of Prince Ember, but he took good care to repeat them silently, lest any, coming upon him unawares, should overhear them and learn his secret. As the ash fell to the ground from his fingers, it spread and ran together to form a thinand web-like film, leaving no spot uncovered.
So treacherous was this snare, that if one but stepped upon its borders, he would become unable to release his feet from it and would be drawn helplessly to its centre. There the web would rise upon him from all sides with lightning swiftness to enmesh him and draw him down till he was fast bound in its folds, and there he must perish in his vain efforts to escape. This was the trap that the Ash Goblin was cunningly and silently preparing for Prince Ember, keeping watch in the meanwhile for him to approach. He kept himself close to the ground, concealed by the ashes around him, so like they were in color to his dingy robe, and the cap that covered his matted grizzled hair. Occasionally he chuckled to himself at the thought ofthe discomfiture which lay in store for Curling Smoke, that boastful giant, whom he believed to be lying in wait for the Prince near to the Wizard’s Cave. Such confidence had the Ash Goblin in his snare that never for an instant did he believe that the Prince could escape it and come within reach of the giant’s arms.
While he worked and exulted thus, he did not forget that in conquering Prince Ember, he would pay off, also, his old grudge against the Shadow Witch for her mockery of him.
The Shadow Witch, coming across the Plain of Ash with the Prince, safe-sheltered by the Cloak of the good Elf, had been sure that they were now safe from peril, when on a sudden it seemed as if a warning hand were laid upon her.She stopped and looked around her, but saw nothing.
Then, with piercing eyes, she scanned the Plain in front. At a considerable distance from her, bent over the ash, she espied a figure well-known to her—the Ash Goblin, intent upon some task. She suspected danger, and caught at the Prince’s mantle, exclaiming beneath her breath, “The Ash Goblin! See, how stealthily he creeps along! Never does he venture so far from home unless he has evil plans afoot.”
Prince Ember had forgotten the Ash Goblin, had forgotten the words of the Elf of the Borderland, but now they returned to him. “Beware of the Ash Goblin! He is small of stature, but he cannot safely be despised, for he is very cunning.” He followed the pointing finger of the Shadow Witch, that hemight behold this new enemy, but he strained his eyes in vain.
“I see nothing but the grey Plain that lies between us and the Elf’s dwelling,” he replied.
She laid her hand lightly upon his eyes for a moment, and by the magic of her touch made his vision more keen. “Look now,” she urged, withdrawing her hand, “and you will see.”
Prince Ember obeyed, and immediately he, too, beheld the ugly form of the Ash Goblin bending over his snare. “Yes, there he is,” he said, “and I remember now how earnestly the Elf of the Borderland bade me be on my guard against his cunning.”
“Ah, my Prince,” the Shadow Witch responded, “you may well be on your guard. Though he knows the weakness of his body too well to dare to attack anenemy in fair and open fight, he is powerful in such craft as he can carry out in secret. Whether or not he is preparing a trap for us, I cannot tell. One thing is certain, we cannot choose but pass over the place where he is at work.”
“Whatever may lie in wait for us there, my dear Shadow Witch,” Prince Ember assured her, “we will meet it unafraid.”
They went directly toward their foe. Nowhere did they see anything that spoke of danger until they were but a stone’s throw from where the Ash Goblin knelt. There they stood still to scan his work, and beheld a delicate mesh, so thin and fine that it was well-nigh invisible, stretching away to right and left of him and in front of him.
The Shadow Witch, seeing, shrank back aghast. “It is the cunning web ofthe Ash Goblin!” she breathed. “None escapes destruction who sets foot within its bounds.”
Before the Prince could answer, the Ash Goblin rose. He had put the final touch to his work. The last handful of his ash had been strewn, the last word of his spell had been pronounced, and weary with long bending over his work, he drew himself up slowly.
“A goodly snare, a goodly snare,” they heard him mutter to himself. “Never yet has it failed me—no, nor ever shall, so long as I hold the secret of my evil ash, so long as I remember the words of my ancient spell.”
He gloated over it for a moment in silence, and then continued: “To this snare the feet of Prince Ember must come. When he treads so much as its border he is lost, and when he is lost, theimpudent Shadow Witch in her dungeon may await her brother’s pleasure for her deliverance. Let her learn in good time, that it is the Ash Goblin, the Ash Goblin whom she has so often mocked, who has helped to keep her there.” He wagged his head exultantly, and sank down again to conceal himself in the ashes, and there await unseen the coming of the Prince.
The Shadow Witch heard his words, and her cheek grew pale as ivory. She pressed her hands close together and looked into Prince Ember’s face, her eyes full of pain. “Alas! my Prince,” she whispered, “it grieves me that you should encounter so many perils for my sake! And here—ah, here, I am afraid that all your wondrous fairy power cannot suffice to break this wicked snare that has been set for you.”
Prince Ember smiled. “Grieve not so, my Shadow Witch,” he consoled her. “There is no danger that I would not meet gladly for your sake. Think not that I cannot here match magic with magic, and conquer, for there is no evil enchantment but must yield before the power of the good fairies of the Fire.”
With quiet confidence he left the shelter of the Cloak of Ash, and in his hand was his fairy sword. It shone with a red glory.
The Ash Goblin, crouching upon the ground, keeping his eyes fixed upon the Elf’s threshold, had heard no syllable that had been spoken, nor knew that anyone was near.
But now his staring eyes suddenly beheld the place about him suffused with scarlet light. He leapt to his feet, turning in swift amaze to learn from whenceit came, and saw Prince Ember standing, with Sword extended like a bar of fire across his snare. From it streamed that heat, potent and overmastering, wherein its magic dwelt.
“Let the snare of the Ash Goblin perish before the power of the Sword of Fire!” exclaimed the Prince, and as he uttered the words the Ash Goblin saw the web that he had been at such pains to prepare, begin to shrivel and shrink away, and presently it had vanished completely from the surface of the Plain.
A frenzied shriek burst from the Ash Goblin at the sight of his work destroyed before his very eyes and by the one for whom the snare had been laid. Coward though he was, he would have rushed upon the Prince to attack him with all his puny strength, had not the heatwhich streamed from the Sword of Fire made his limbs powerless to stir from the spot where he lay hid, had not the glow which surrounded him become so intense that he was forced to bury his head in his cloak, lest his eyes should be blinded by it.
Crouching there, wrapped to the very crown of his head in his dingy cloak, he heard again the voice of Prince Ember.
“Depart quickly,” commanded the Prince, “lest you be consumed in like manner as your evil snare.”
Then the Ash Goblin rose and fled away in terror from the place where he had hoped to triumph, fled on and on, until he came to the threshold of his own hut. In desperate haste he undid the door, and rushing in, closed and barred it fast, to shut out the spell of the conquering Sword.
WhilePrince Ember had passed from place to place, everywhere meeting and conquering the perils that beset him and his companion, the Wind in the Chimney had not been unmindful of his promise to Black Shadow. On the contrary, he was only too willing to help the Wizard.
As soon as the Wizard’s messenger had departed from him, he despatched a half dozen of his keenest and most agile Breezes to the Chimney Mouth to spyupon the Elf’s house from thence, and bring him word at once the moment the Prince was seen to cross its threshold.
During the time, therefore, that the Imps had been keeping guard at the entrance to the Wizard’s cavern, the Breezes, on their part, had been industriously looking across the Plain from the Chimney Mouth, but with no better fortune in the one case than in the other.
Once, it is true, they, like the Ash Goblin, had espied the Elf’s door open slowly and remain so for a moment, and they had waited eagerly for the Prince to come forth, but no one had appeared, and presently the door had closed again and had remained fast shut ever since.
The Wind, sitting on his rough seat in the Chimney, began to chafe at the delay. He did not overlook the fact that the Breezes were merry fellows, andthat, though they took no liberties while they were under his eye, and talked only in whispers among themselves when they perched in the Chimney nooks, they had only to be out of his sight to begin to whisk gaily about and dance and sing in the liveliest possible manner, so as to enjoy their freedom to the utmost.
He began to believe that even on this occasion, in spite of the strictness of his commands, they were amusing themselves after their usual fashion, and, becoming more and more careless and inattentive to their duty, had allowed Prince Ember to go on his way unobserved.
Leaning forward in his seat, he called down to them gruffly, demanding to know whether any sign had yet been seen of the stranger prince. When he received their answer, he was more thanever convinced of their negligence and gave orders that one of their number should go out and scour the Plain, to discover whether the Prince was anywhere about. But the one who had been sent returned to say that there was nothing to be seen but the yellow fog of Curling Smoke.
The Wind shrugged his great shoulders contemptuously. “The affairs of Curling Smoke do not interest me,” he declared.
For a little longer he waited and then began to stir about impatiently upon his Chimney seat.
“Go out and search the Plain more carefully than was done by your fellow,” he shouted to another of the Breezes. “It is quite impossible that the Prince should still be in the Elf’s house.”
Swift to obey his master, the secondBreeze went forth, yet came back in a little while, declaring that he had seen no one but the Ash Goblin, bending over the ground as though intent upon some task.
“Bah!” exclaimed the Wind. “Why do you come to me with such news as that? What difference can it make to me what such a wretched creature as the Ash Goblin is doing? Let him amuse himself with his trifles as he pleases.”
Thus rebuffed, his servant retreated shamefacedly to his post, and again the Wind waited.
Such a great length of time had passed since they had taken up their vigil at the Chimney Mouth, that the Breezes themselves were beginning to be uneasy, and to suspect that by means of some enchantment the Prince had actually escaped them.
Then they bethought them of the moment when the Elf’s door had been seen to open and shut without anyone coming out of it, and they were troubled, and wondered whether they should, perhaps, have made the matter known to their master at the time.
Finally, one of their number, bolder than the rest, summoned up his courage and went and told the Wind of it.
“What!” shrieked the Wind, rising in a tempest of rage. “Can it be that you saw anything so important as this and brought me no word of it? Magic has been at work! This Prince has without doubt escaped me. Even at this instant he may be upon the Plain under the very eyes of my watchers!”
Hurling the messenger from him, the Wind rushed down to the Chimney Mouth. He buffeted to right and leftthe Breezes who stood there, and whirled out upon the Plain to see for himself whether or not what he suspected was true.
It so happened that Prince Ember and the Shadow Witch were crossing the Plain directly in front of the Chimney Mouth at that instant.
Then what the Elf of the Borderland had feared immediately came true. The keen eyes of the Wind pierced the spell of the Weaver elf. His rough blasts shattered it. Snatching the fairy Cloak from the shoulders of the travelers, he beat it quickly back into the loose ashes of which it had been woven, and drove them off and away into the wide spaces of the Borderland, there to settle down at last wherever they would.
Thus were Prince Ember and theShadow Witch revealed to the gaze of their most powerful enemy.
The Prince needed none to tell him who this new foe was, nor did he quail at sight of him, though he knew that he might well fear for his companion and himself. Quickly he thrust the Shadow Witch behind him, and with his Sword of Fire in his hand awaited his coming.
With a loud howl the Wind was upon them. Against this terrific onset the Prince held firm, and as the Wind dashed himself upon the Sword, thinking to wrest that from him, also, it leapt to life, a broad and beauteous sheet of scarlet flame, that rose in an ascending barrier high and yet higher at every buffet that it sustained. The more the Wind flung himself upon it in fury, the greater it waxed in power and brilliance,the stronger the heat that flowed from it in mighty waves.
Cowed by it, the Wind retreated for a moment, but seeing that the flame waned when he did so, he took fresh courage and raged against it once more. Yet quite in vain. Wielding his Sword with steady hand, protected by its wall of leaping fire, its rampart of glowing heat, the Prince met him at every turn dauntless and unharmed.
Still farther back stood the Shadow Witch, her tall form swaying in the blasts of the Wind. At his advance her black hair streamed behind her like a cloud; her grey garments and long grey sleeves, illumined by the red glory of the Sword, billowed round her like floating banners. Through the fierceness of the fight her voice was heard cheering thePrince sweetly, that his courage might not fail.
So the battle raged: on the one side with unavailing fury, wild shouts, insolent boasting, and slowly wasting strength; on the other hand with steadfast courage, quietness and undimmed confidence.
For long the Wind could not believe it possible that he would be vanquished, but gradually he was convinced that the foe whom he had despised was invincible. Humiliated and sullen, he determined to give up the losing fight. With one last shriek of rage and discomfiture, that rang out to the farthest confines of the Plain and echoed across the Borderland, he fled back in haste to the Chimney, and hurled himself into its depths.
Prince Ember put up his Sword. The Shadow Witch stole to his side to thank him for this new deliverance, but her exceedinggratitude made her dumb. She could only lay her hands in his, and look into his beloved face in silence.
Knowing what was in her heart, Prince Ember bent to her. “Dear Lady of the Shadows,” he said, “to serve you is my highest joy. And now there is no other enemy left for us to dread. I have but to lead you home.”