Rejoicing in 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 slowly after 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, he
continued 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 the unsuspecting 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 to
his 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 whispered low: “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 be right, 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 Curling Smoke.
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 at him. 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
powerless against 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
accomplish it. 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 other still 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 rushed through 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 have
conquered!” 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.
[Illustration]