Ch. 5: The Lost Caves of Colebrook

Back to Arheled

             “You   have   changed   the   place   a   lot   since   my   day,”   said   Wayham   Lane,   and   yet   an   eerie   likeness   to   what   I   remember   of   it   lingers.”   He   stared   up   at   the   pine   grove   with   thoughtful   eyes. The   hazy   morning   was   heavy   and   blue   with   the   threat   of   heat.

             “It   has   changed   even   in   my   time.”   said   Grandmother   Lane,   leaning on   the new   pine   cane   Wayham   had   carved   for   her. It   had   a   curious   white   head   like   some heraldic   bird,   and   odd   bosses   and   patterns   ran   down   the   stem.

             “It   is   interesting,   living   inside   one   of   these   houses.”   Wayham   said   thoughtfully. They   strolled   slowly   down   the   drive;   there   were   letters   to   put   in   the   mail. “Their   devices   are   fascinating,   and   feel   almost   as   if   I   lived   among   magicians.”

             “And   yet   in   many   ways   I   am   a   throwback,   with   my   fireplace   and   brick   oven,   and   wood   stove   in   the   basement.”   Grandmother   Lane   smiled. “The   winterberry   is   bearing   well   this   year,   it   seems.”   They   were   passing   the   cleared   belt   of   tall   shoots   and   weeds,   the   winterberry   bright   strong   green   among   them,   and   great   clusters   of   deep   red   berries   glowed   amid   the   leaves.

             “Yes,   the   summer   holly.”   Wayham   nodded. “Wayfinder   told   me   to   plant   some   outside   each   window,   and   then   to   plant   the   ring. I   completed   it   the   year   before   I   vanished.”

             “We   cleared   out   the   belt   around   the   house   just   this   winter.”   said   Grandmother   Lane. “Wayfinder   himself   came   in   person   to   help.”

             “Did   you   see   him?”   inquired   Wayham   with   some   interest.

             Grandmother   Lane   shook   her   head   with   an   austere   dignity. “He—seemed   to   be   avoiding   me.”   she   said. “I   know   I   must   not   become   bitter   about   it,   but   it   is   still   a   sorrow   to   me.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Wayfinder   always   has   his   reasons.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   feel   so   useless,   is   all! exploded   the   old   woman   fiercely. “I   am   old. I   can   walk   only   slowly. I   sit,   and   I   watch,   and   watch,   and   watch,   like   some   ancient   spider,   as   things   rush   slowly   on   to   some   awful   climax,   and   me   powerless   to   help.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   are   Lane.”   Wayham   answered. “We   are   the   greeters   of   the   Road. When   the   Road   returns,   we   will   be   ready.”

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “This   has   been   a   nice   July.”   said   Ronnie   out   loud. “Until   now.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   weather   had   been   average-warm,   seldom   reaching   90,   mostly   dry   and   pleasant. Then   a   week   ago   it   suddenly   shot   into   the   90s,   and   reports   from   the   cities   put   it   in   the   hundreds   there. Of   course   the   blueberry   patch   along   the   shore   of   Rugg    Brook   Res. had   ripened   right   during   that   time,   and   all   the   berries   were   three   times   as   big   as   normal   and   so   plentiful   he   was   pulling   clusters   of   up   to   nine   berries   from   the   same   stem. It   had   taken   him   all   day   to   harvest   one-third   of   the   patch,   and   not   only   his   gallon-pretzel-jar   was   full, so   was   the   old   mayonnaise   jar   he’d   used   for   picking. He   had   to   go   swimming   almost   once   an   hour   to   stay   cool.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             It   occurred   to   him   as   he   pedaled   down   the   long   level   of   Rt. 44   above   the   Mad   River   gorge,   that   Mr. Bailey   of   the   Health   Food   Corner   might   buy   some   local   produce. He   knew   the   Baileys   from   St. Joseph’s,   especially   the   two   Bailey   girls,   Kaitlyn   and   Shannon. The   straw   hat   was   an   absolute   necessity   in   the   hard   humid   sun,   but   he   doffed   it   when   he   came   to   the   long   downhill   into   Winsted. For   one   thing,   even   strings   couldn’t   keep   it   on   at   those   speeds,   and   for   another   he   never   wore   it   in   town. He   knew   how   weird   he   looked   in   it.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">              The   Bailey   store   was   in   the   corner   of   the   IGA   Super   Saver   store   building   (“saver”,   quote-unquote;   their   prices   were   twice   that   of   Aldi’s),   across   from   Bridge   Street,   where   Union   met   Main. Ronnie   went   inside. A   sign   advertised   yoga   classes,   the   Baileys   being   under   the   delusion   that   it   could   be   practiced   in   a   Catholic   way. All   sorts   of   carob   and   organic   or   odd   foods   lined   the   shelves   (all   overpriced),   as   well   as   dried   fruit   and   nut   containers,   goya   berries,   goat-milk   cheese,   millet   and   wheat   and   rye   flours,   and   even   a   freezer   full   of   organic   or   soy-free   ice   cream,   and   even   milk-free   ice cream   made   from   coconut   milk. It   had   a   queer,   stuffy   but   pleasant   smell,   of   odd   dried   exotic   foods   and   strange   outlandish   products:   a   health-food-store   smell. There   was   a   raised   rear   section   reached   by   two   stairs. A   counter   stood   at   the   right   near   the   door. A   stand   of   organic   Belgian   chocolates   and,   in   season,   maple   candy,   stood   on   the   left,   and   against    the   left   wall   was   a   refrigerated   produce   aisle   full   of   cheeses   and   local   and   organically   grown   produce.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Mr. Bailey,   who   had   a   tall   narrow   head   with   a   square   top,   almost   like   a   peg,   finished   with   a   customer   and   looked   up   with   a   wide   half-obsequious   smile. He   had   large   square   eyes   of   a   light   blue. “Hello,   Ronnie!”   he   greeted.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             When   he   saw   Ronnie’s   blueberries,   especially   the   size   of   them,   he   whistled   and   got   so   enthusiastic   he   bought   the   whole   harvest   for   $30   and   told   him   to   bring   another   of   the   same   if   he   had   any. Ronnie   thanked   him   and   went   out   to   his   bike.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “How   are   you   taking   the   heat,   Ronmond?”   someone   called   from   the outdoor   tables   in   front   of   the   restaurant   next   door   to   the   Baileys. He   looked   over,   a   little   startled,   and   saw   a   craggy   odd   man   with   darkish   hair   going   grey   and   very   somber,   wise   old   eyes. He   wore   jeans   and   a   light   flannel   shirt,   and   on   his   head   was   a   straw   hat   just   like   Ronnie’s.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Pretty   well,   Arheled.”   Ronnie   replied. “And   yourself?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   have   very   little   time.”   said   Arheled. “Middlesummer   Day,   the   Feast   of   St   James,   is   Monday:   three   days   away. I   have   learned   there   is   one   thing   that   the   Lord   of   Chaos   lacks;   an   object   that   is   guarded   by   the   Lost   Caves   of   Colebrook.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “So   I   must   find   the   caves   before   he   does?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Nay,   before   Middlesummer   Day   comes. Nothing   protects   the   Caves   save   this   concealment;   and   within   the   Cave   is   a   deep   well,   and   at   the   bottom   of   this   well   is   the   object   that   we   seek.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “And   what   is   this   object?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “A   very   ancient   thing,”   answered   Arheled,   “long   a   symbol   of   kingship   in   Middle-earth.

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Proud   are   the   words,   and   all   there   turned ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">to   see   the   jewels   green   that   burned ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">in   Beren’s   ring. These   Noldor   set ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">as   eyes   of   serpents   twined   that   met ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">beneath   a   golden   crown   of   flowers ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">that   one   upholds   and   one   devours: ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">the   band   Finarfin   made   of   yore ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">and   Felagund   his   son   now   bore.” ''

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   Ring   of   Barahir!”   wondered   Ronnie. “But   why   would   he   want   a   powerless   ring?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   do   not   know,”   replied   Arheled,   frowning. “And   it   disturbs   me   greatly. I   left   it   there,   in   the   well   full   of   men’s   tears   that   weep:   I   thought   it   had   no   power,   the   legends   say   that   it   was   only   as   an   heirloom   that   it   was   valued…”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Didn’t   it   come   out   of   Valinor?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “So   it   was   said,”   Arheled   answered,   “or   the   gems   at   any   rate;   though   beyond   luminosity   they   seem   to   have   no   other   remarkable   traits. The   mere   fact   of   an   heirloom   coming   from   the   Blessed   Realm   means   little,   unless   a   virtue   or   a   blessing   was   wrought   into   it   with   intent   or   laid   upon   it. No   matter. What   does   matter   is   that   our   Enemy   seeks   it,   and   so   we   must   find   it   first   and   set   it   under   the   Road.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “How   is   it   guarded?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “No   power   can   reach   into   the   water   of   men’s   tears   that   weep,   save   on   Middlesummer   Day   in   the   year   of   the   Road’s   returning:   not   even   I. That   was   why   the   Sign   of   Ward’s   Hill   pointed   out   that   date;   I   wondered   at   that,   suspecting,   but   I   did   not   know. You,   however,   can   reach   into   it   at   any   time,   for   you   have   no   power.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   put   the   Signs   on   the   Hills,   Arheled.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Some   I   did;   some   I   merely   oversaw;   and   some   were   done   without   my   knowledge.”   replied   Arheled. “I   am   not   the   only   mover   of   events   upon   this   Middle-earth,   Ronnie;   there   are   powers   in   the   world   not   connected   with   me,   but   neither   are   they   hostile   to   man. I   am   of   the   Road,   and   the   Road   is   my   concern. I   do   not,   for   instance,   command   the   wind   or   guide   the   waters,   nor   do   I   govern   the   churning   of   the   seas. Wallens   Hill   was   not   inspired   by   me. I   saw   it,   and   it   disturbed   me;   but   I   guided   you   to   it   none   the   less.”

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Travel   Lane   was   just   getting   in   her   car   when   the   phone   rang. With   a   sigh   she   fished   it   out   of   her   bag   and   opened   it. The   number   was   familiar   but   there   was   no   name   attached   to   it,   which   meant   it   was   probably   Ronnie’s.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Hello-o.”   she   said,   propping   herself   against   the   frame.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Travel,   it’s   Ronnie. We   have   to   seek   out   the   Lost   Caves   before   July   25th. Arheled   just   told   me   they   hold   something   that   the   lord   of   Chaos   seeks,   but   which   he   can   only   get   on   that   day.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   Lost   Caves   of   Colebrook?”   said   Travel   thoughtfully. “Grandmother   Lane   mentioned   them   once. So   did   Arheled.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Yes,   that’s   where   the   Wild   Man   was   pointing. I   read   up   on   the   Lost   Caves   long   ago,   but   I   can   print   out   the   article   at   the   library. Are   you   free?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   25th,   that’s…Monday,   right? Can   we   wait   till   the   heat   ends?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Traaa-vellll….”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “OK,   OK,   I’m   just   asking. How   long   will   it   take   us?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Better   plan   on   spending   a   night   there. Hunting   over   the   length   and   breadth   of   Knapp   Hill might   take   awhile. I’ll   bring   rope   and   matches   and   a   little   reading-light-thingy   I’ve   had   for   a   while,   but   I   don’t   have   a   tent.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   do,   but   it’s   a   small   one.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Good. Let’s   start   tomorrow.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Oh   please,   Ronnie,   I   have   things   to   get   done. It   is   Saturday,   you   know. Besides,   Wayham   might   know   something   about   the   Caves. How   about   we   leave   after   church?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I’m   going   to   the   vigil   Mass   tonight. But   if   you   want,   I’ll   meet   you   at   St.   James   after   your   9:30   service.”

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<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   cave   under   what   hill?”   said   Wayham,   a   little   confused.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That’s   what   Ronnie   called   it.”   Travel   defended.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   mountain   just   south   of   a   brook   emptying   into   the   Center   Brook.”   Grandmother   Lane   tried   to   explain.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Well,   I   did   wander   out   this   way   when   I   first   explored   the   Roads,   but   not   in   a   few   hundred   years.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   place,   prior   to   1841,   bore   the   name   Witches’   Retreat.”   Grandmother   Lane   said   quietly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Wayham’s   head   jerked   up. For   a   moment   a   wild,   feline   glitter   lit   his   eyes. “That   hill.”   he   breathed. “I   might   have   known. Yes,   I   know   the   place   now. A   steep-faced   fell   rising   out   of   a   marsh,   the   north   end   a   broken   cliff. And   under   the   cliff…yes,   there   were   caves   there.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Why   was   it   called…that?”   said   Travel.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Why   else   would   men   give   it   that   name.”   Wayham   answered. “The   witches   went   there   to   ‘recharge’   as   they   call   it. Working   magic   will   consume   their   power;   they   have   to   rest   for   a   little   and   charge   up. It   is   the   most   evident   difference   between   true   charisms   and   witch-powers.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Ronnie   came   up   for   supper   as   he’d   been   invited,   and   he   had   with   him   a   printout   of   the   old   articles   dealing   with   the   Lost   Caves.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   was   discovered   in   1841,”   Ronnie   informed   Travel   and   Wayham   as   they   waited   for   supper   to   be   served,   “by   some   boys   shouting   into   a   hole   under   a   boulder. Their   parents   used   blasting   to   open   an   entrance   into   the   cavern,   which   is   described   as   a   straight   chamber,   larger   than   a   railway   tunnel,   with   a   partially   blocked   mouth   of   50   feet   across   and   30   feet   high. It   runs   first   north   then   northeast under   the   mountain   for   a   full   quarter   mile,   varying   from   “very   high”   to   10   feet   high,   and   in   places   80   feet   wide. Kind   of   unbalanced. Openings   of   many   sizes   were   in   the   walls,   from   one   of   which   they   heard   falling   water.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Where   was   it   located?”   put   in   Wayham.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   describes   a   projecting   cliff   a   hundred   feet    high,   hanging   over   the   entrance,   seeming   to   defy   the   known   laws   of   gravitation.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That   would   be   the   north   end.”   said   Wayham.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   it   describes   the   mouth   as   being   on   the   SE.”   said   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Facing   SE,   perhaps. On   the   SE   there   is   barely   even   a   rock   wall. Only   stones. And   what   scarps   there   are   do   not   overhang.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “We   met   with   several   deep   pits, <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">”   Ronnie   read   aloud, ''   “into   one   of   which   we   were   near   falling. Two   of   them   resembled   wells…We   sounded   one   of   them   to   the   depth   of   nine   fathoms   and   another   to   the   depth   of   five   or   so. In   the   first   well   we   found   water,   but   the   second   was   dry.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “How’d   it   get   lost?”   inquired   Travel.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That’s   the   interesting   thing.”   said   Ronnie. “It   was   rediscovered   in   1926,   in   November. The   article   describing   this   second   finding,   by   a   gypsy   moth   hunter   named   Dolor   La   Belle   and   some   others,   begins   with   a   description   of   the   cave’s   dimensions   evidently   taken   from   the   1841   article. La   Belle   moved   away   debris   and   found   the   opening   to   be   a   foot   and   a   half   wide,   and   crawled   in   for   fifty   feet. They   returned   a   week   later   and   “crawled”   into   the   cave   for   about   a   hundred   feet,   where   the   way   was   barred   by   huge   stones. At   one   point   they   could   stand   upright   but   it   was   so   choked   with   great   rocks   as   to   be   difficult   to   advance. They   heard   water   in   the   distance. Concluding   that   frost   had   shaken   loose   the   rocks,   they   left.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Then   what’s   this   about   it   being   blasted   shut?”   said   Travel,   reading   over   his   shoulder.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “In   1947   a   column   mentions   a   WPA   project   ‘a   dozen   years   ago’,   in   the   early   thirties,   that   blasted   shut   the   cave   due   to   concerns   about   the   pits.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">   “But   if   the   1926   explorers   found   it   nearly   collapsed,   why   bother   blasting?”   said   Travel. “And   what   is   WPA?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   Works   and   Progress   Administration.”   snorted   Ronnie. “One   of   the   many   idiotic   agencies   of   the   New   Deal   that   went   around   inventing   stuff   to   do   in   order   to   keep   people   employed. Sounds   just   like   them   to   blast   shut   a   cave   already   collapsed. But   maybe   a   way   is   still   left   inside.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   next   morning   dawned   as   hot   and   stiflingly   humid   as   before. Ronnie,   dressed   in   old   pants   and   shirt,   met   Travel   as   arranged   outside   the   Episcopal   church. She   looked   hot   and   grumpy.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “We   should   stop   at   the   beach   first.”   he   jested.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Hey,   you’re   the   one   dragging   me   along   on   this.”   she   said. “Do   you   even   know   where   they   are?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Up   in   North   Colebrook,   on   the   town   line   of   Norfolk.”   he   replied. “We   go   north   from   the   Center,   then   turn   left   at   Shantry   Road.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   blue   haze   hanging   over   the   pines   robbed   them   of   the   mystery   and   remoteness   they   bore   in   cooler   times,   making   the   forests   all   alike   under   the   drooping   oppression   of   heat. Colebrook   Center   looked   cooler,   however,   with   the   old   white   buildings   and   green   old   maples.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Let’s   buy   a   cookie   at   the   Store.”   Ronnie   suggested.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   guy   went   out   of   business. Again.”   complained   Travel.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   road   climbed   between   grey   stone   walls   under   great   green   maples,   old   white   farmhouses   beyond. Then   they   drove   up   a   long   flat   between   walls   of   high   red   maples,   and   came   to   the   crossroads   where   the   old   Rock   school,   a   small   square   building,   sat   on   its’   new   foundation   in   one   corner of   the   crossroads   where   the   State   moved   it   when   they   widened   the   road. Turning   left   they   drove   into   more   remote,   less   canny   country. Red   maple   and   oak   gave   the   woods   an   unfamiliar   aspect. They   drove   by   some   houses   and   then   descended   into   a   deep   bowl.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Knapp   Hill.”   said   Ronnie. “There   it   is.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             There   it   was   indeed. A   marsh   opened   on   the   right,   and   towering   some   four   hundred   feet   above   it   was   a   steep   rounded   hill,   dark   green   and   blue   in   the   steaming   haze. Travel   found   a   spot   to   hide   the   car   in   and   they   set   off   on   foot.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   could   just   Travel   there.”   said   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Hey,   I   don’t   think   it   works   just   like   that.”   protested   Travel. “It   only   seems   to   happen   when   I   need   it.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Yes,   well,   it’s   one   of   the   more   practical   of   our   powers. You   should   practice   using   it.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Hey,   you   never   have   to   practice   using   your   revealing   power   or   whatever!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   know   how   to   use   it,   though. So   do   Brooke   and   Lara. I   think   you   should,   too.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Hmph.”   said   Travel. They   passed   to   the   right   of   the   marsh. Here   loggers   were   active,   and   paths   had   been   chewed   into   the   forest,   and   piles   of   branches   and   discarded   tops   of   timber   trees   filled   the   brown   wood. A   green   roof   far   overhead,   a   green   wall   on   the   left   where   the   marsh   ran,   but   still   it   was   a   brown   place. After   a   while   they   came   to   the   marsh’s   end   and   crossed   a   dark   mossy   vale   of   deep   old   moss   and   deep   old   hemlock   and   birch. Sudden   slopes   rose   up   before   them,   and   they   entered   the   rockslopes   of   Knapp   Hill.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             It   was   the   queerest   place   Ronnie   had   been   in. Not   eerie   and   silent   and   solemn   like   Temple   Fell,   or   queer   and   wild   like   Rugg   Valley. It   was   a   jumbled,   barren   jungle;   at   once   living   and   sterile. Moss   and   deep   fern   grew   over   the   rocks,   but   so   did   a   multitude   of   dead   branches   and   dead   trees,   and   straggly   wild   brush   grew   under   them   as   it   did   after   a   forest   fire. It   felt   ruined. It   felt   both   lush   and   dead. The   tangled   branches   and   rocks   made   climbing   hard   even   for   him.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That   is   the   weirdest   tree   I’ve   ever   seen.”   said   Travel.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Ronnie   looked   where   she   was   pointing. Near   the   bottom   an   old   hollow   birch,   yellow   birch   from   the   look   of   it,   had   remained   alive on   two   sides   while   the   wood   between   decayed   and   vanished,   leaving   two   live   columns   of   wood   like   legs   under   the   main   trunk,   an   open   narrow   arch   fifteen   feet   high   between   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “If   this   was   in   a   story,”   he   said   ruefully   as   he   drew   near,   “going   under   this   would   teleport   you   to   a   mystical   realm,   or   give   you   magic   powers,   or   something   weird   like   that.”   He   walked   under   it. Absolutely   nothing   happened. “But   we’re   not   in   a   story. We’re   in   real   life. Seems   almost   a   pity,   doesn’t   it?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “And   real   life   is   quite   crazy   enough.”   Travel   said   with   a   shudder.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   found   quickly   enough   that   Wayham   was   right:   there   were   barely   even   any   rock   faces   on   the   SE   and   E   faces   of   the   long   steep,   just   jumbled   rocks. The   cliff,   broken   faces   leaning   back   into   the   hill   and   not   at   all   like   the   description,   grew   highest   towards   the   middle. Then   as   the   hill   curved   north,   it’s   face   began   to   jut   out,   mighty   cracked   scarps   broken   horizontally,   so   that   the   downsloping   layers   seemed   poised,   about   to   fall.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   it   doesn’t   match.”   Ronnie   fumed. “It’s   not   even   fifty   feet   high,   let   alone   a   hundred.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   does   look   pretty   threatening,   though.”   Travel   pointed   out.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Yes,   but   this   isn’t   even   a   precipice. Those   boulders   go   almost   to   the   top. And   look   how   the   cliff   goes   inward   right   here. Still,   it’s   the   only   spot   that   even   resembles   the   description.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “They   said   the   mouth   was   on   the   SE.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Toward   the   SE. It   might   have   faced   that   way. Wayham   seemed   to   think   so.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Yes,   and   he   knew   it   before   anyone   else,   didn’t   he?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Ronnie   took   out   his   funny   reading-lamp—a   birthday   present   from   his   parents,   when   you   pressed   a   button   on   the   side   a   little   arm   unfolded   and   a   bulb   gave   off   a   brilliant   blueish   light—and   Travel   took   her   flashlight   and   they   crawled   into   every   single   opening   they   could   find. Ronnie   wormed   his   way   into   holes   and   narrow   cracks   Travel   thought   impossible. It   was   as   if   the   entire   cliff   had   fractured   apart   and   slumped   forwards,   laving   great   cracks   and   hollows   between   rubble   and   the   mighty   chunks   of   cliff. There   were   entire   levels   of   passages. A   queer   vinegar-mossy   smell,   like   wet   rock   and   moldy   earth   and   wine,   pervaded   the   deeper   passages. But   none   of   them   penetrated   beyond   thirty   feet   into   the   hill.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Towards   evening   they   decided   to   climb   over   the   summit   and   look   at   the   view. The   slope   up   the   finger   of   the   north   ridge   rose   steeply. Soon   they   were   climbing   out   of   the   beech   forest   and   up   mountain-grass. Dull   old   hemlocks   rose   out   of   it,   along   with   grey   hickories   and   ash. The   terrain   and   even   the   plants   were   the   same   as   on   Temple   Fell,   but   the   atmosphere   was   utterly   different. One   Temple   Fell   you   felt   something   there;   on   Knapp   Hill   they   only   felt   a   strange   barren   and   broken   ruinness,   like   an   exhausted   old   man   sitting   down   to   die.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   trees   shut   out   any   view,   save   for   glimpses   of   a   hazy   blue   distance   on   the   left   at   a   great   depth   below   them. Once   they   passed   a   square   flat   standing   stone,   like   a   table,   which   would   have   made   a   far   better   altar   than   the   Altarstones   of   Temple   Fell;   but   no   grove   of   crooked   hickories   leaned   in   towards   it,   and   it   felt   no   different   than   any   other   rock.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You’d   think   that   in   a   place   called   Witches’   Retreat   that   you   would   feel   some   creepiness.”   Travel   remarked   as   they   passed   the   summit,   swatting   mosquitos.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Oh,   you   do.”   said   Ronnie. “Something   was   cast   out   of   here. Something   was   driven   out,   and   left   only   a   feel   of   barrenness   and   desolation—What   the   heck   is   that?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             In   a   glade   of   ash   and   hickory,   there   stood   among   the   pale-green   grass   what   looked   like   a   chair   of   stone. A   big,   incredibly   thin,   bent   slab   had   been   propped   up   at   an   angle   like   the   back   of   a   lawn   chair. Masonry   of   dry   stones   formed   low   arms,   and   flat   slabs made   a   seat   between.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Now   that   is   weird.”   said   Travel. “Let’s   go   a   little   further   and   then   we’ll   start   again.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   headed   on   until   the   grassy   slope   began   to   plunge   sharply,   and   turned   back. As   they   came   in   sight   of   the   Chair   both   of   them   stopped   short.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             An   old   woman   sat   in   the   stone   chair. She   was   short   and   dumpy,   grey   hair   pulled   back   in   a   bun,   an   Indian-style   shawl   wrapped   around   her;   and   yet   in   her   dark   old   eyes,   and   her   sour   face,   Ronnie   felt   a   sense   of   great   menance,   as   if   a   strange   and   hostile   power   had   suddenly   manifested.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Who   are   you?”   he   hissed. “What   are   you   doing   here?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   old   woman   looked   up   and   met   his   eyes,   and   in   that   instant   he   knew   who   she   was.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That   question   is   mine   to   ask,   Mr. Hill,”   she   answered,   and   somehow   under   her   quiet   voice   was   a   vast   sense   of   suppressed   power. “What   are   you   doing   in   Witches’   Retreat?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Ronnie’s   eyes   glowed;   he   seemed   tense,   as   if   poised   for   a   battle. “I   come   in   the   name   of   Arheled   and   the   power   of   the   Road. I   seek   the   Lost   Caves.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   old   woman   cackled. “But   you   haven’t   found   them,   have   you? Maybe   I   can   help.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “And   why   should   we   take   help   from   you,    Witch   of   Winchester?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   Witch   of   Winchester   arched   her   eyebrows. “You   have   good   eyes.”   she   said   in   a   sort   of   grudging   admiration. “Wouldn’t   you   like   to   sit   in   this   chair,   hmm?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It’s   a   witch’s   chair.”   said   Ronnie. “I   have   no   interest   in   that.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Oh,   but   you   do,   you   do,   I   see   it   in   your   eyes.”   the   Witch   murmered   softly,   leaning   forward;   there   was   a   blue   gleam   in   hers.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Don’t   tell   me,   when   you   sit   in   that   chair   you   gain   the   sight   of   angels   and   eagles.”   Ronnie   said   scornfully.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Well,   not   quite,   not   quite   that.”   cackled   the   Witch. “In   point   of   fact,   it   bestows   one   thing. Wouldn’t   you   like   to   know   what   it   is?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   already   know:   knowledge   of   good   and   evil,   in   one   form   or   another.”   said   Ronnie. “I   think   I’ll   pass.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   will   pass,   yes,   I   know   that,”   she   said,   still   with   that   eerie   little   smile,   “but   you   will   not   passus   us. And   yet   pass   we   shall,   for   we   too   are   promised   our   hour,   and   it   ticks   ever   closer.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “We   look   beyond   that   hour.”   said   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Yes,   but   will   you   survive   it? That   is   the   question.”   said   the   Witch   softly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   next   moment   the   stone   seat   was   empty.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             It   was   in   a   sober   silence   that   they   descended   to   their   camp   and   ate   sandwiches:   peanut   butter   and   jelly,   but   for   the   occasion   they   had   packed   mint   jelly. The   mosquitos   soon   drove   the   to   moving   around   again.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             All   the   rest   of   that   day   they   wandered   over   that   hill,   shining   lights   into   holes   and   shouting   into   crevices. But   no   echos   met   their   calls,   and   no   other   caves   did   they   find.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “What’s   really   irksome,”   complained   Ronnie,   as   a   stuffy   evening   closed   down   on   the   land,   “is   that   all   the   breaks   in   one   spot—there,   where   the   cliff   suddenly   retreats   and   the   boulders   get   higher—are   new. Recent. Clean   stone,   no   moss,   no   sign   of   sitting   like   that   for   ages. Not   like   over   to   the   left.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   think   the   cliff   fell   in?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I’m   pretty   sure   of   it.”   he   sighed. “Well,   let’s   pitch   camp. We’ll   poke   around   some   in   the   morning   and   then   we’ll   leave.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “And   high   time   too.”   said   Travel,   swatting   frantically   at   mosquitos. Their   continuous,   horrible   drone   filled   the   greying   air. “Ow! I   thought   I   sprayed   for   bugs!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “No   repellant   on   earth   can   keep   away   mosquitos.”   said   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             While   Travel   was   putting   up   the   tent   on   a   more   or   less   level   boulder,   Ronnie   go   out   the   matches   and   collected   dry   twigs. As   he   came   around   the   edge   of   a   jutting   boulder,   he   stopped   in   surprise.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Seated   on   the   crag’s   tip,   dark   against   the   bright   evening   sky,   was   a   rough-looking   man   with   long   black   hair,   a   great   ragged   cloak   pulled   close   around   him. He   turned   his   head,   revealing   the   eerie,   mocking   eyes   and   craggy   features   of   the   Wild   Man   of   Winsted.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Well,   have   you   revealed   them   yet?”   he   said   in   his   rough,   wild   voice. “Has   your   superior   power   of   uncovering   finally   cut   in?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I’ve   searched   every   hole   in   this   part   of   the   hill.”   said   Ronnie. “If   there   was   a   way   in,   I   will   find   it.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   Wild   Man   of   Winsted   got   to   his   feet,   leaping   down   in   a   huge   swath   of   mantle. In   the   dim   evening,   in   that   wild   distant   place,   he   felt   dangerous,   unsafe   to   be   around. “You   cannot   uncover   what   isn’t   there,”   he   said   sardonically. “Just   can’t   be   done.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Don’t   blame   me   for   trying.”   said   Ronnie,   not   backing   down.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Are   the   Caves   really   there,   Wild?”   Travel   asked   from   above   them. She’d   somehow   managed   to   assemble   the   tent. Ronnie   observed   she   was   not   eager   to   descend   and   talk   face   to   face   with   their   eerie,   uncanny   ally.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Have   you   been   to   Stillwater   Pond?”   Wild   said,   looking   up   at   her.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">               “I   was   there   a   few   weeks   ago. Why?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   seen   the   rope   swing?”   said   Wild.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">               “Which   one?”   Ronnie   asked.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   old   one.”   Wild   answered.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Oh,   that   one! Yes,   it’s   so   awesome. They   built   a   nice   stand   for   you   to   climb   onto   when   you   swing   off,   it’s   really   well   done. I   had   a   lot   of   fun   there.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Same   here.”   smiled   Ronnie. “I   met   this   really   funny   girl   there   called   Pam,   but   I   haven’t   seen   her   since.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   was   destroyed.”   said   Wild.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “What?”   said   Travel   blankly. “By   who?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “By   vandals!” roared   Wild. “They   took   apart   the   stand   and   took   away   the   lumber   with   the   trash,   and   as   they   left   they   chopped   the   rope   short   so   no   one   can   reach   it!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Oh   no.”   moaned   Travel.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That’s   horrible!”   exclaimed   Ronnie. “Who   did   it,   do   they   know? Have   the   police   caught   them   yet?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Wild   gave   a   weird,   saturnine   laugh. “How   could   they,”   he   mocked,   “when   the   vandals   work   for   the   State!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   mean   it   was   State   workers   on   their   off   time   who   went   out   and—“

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   was   on   duty!”   laughed   Wild. “You   don’t   get   it   yet? The   vandalism   was   done   legally,   by   State   workers   on   State   orders!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It’s   State   land,   isn’t   it.”   muttered   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Yes,   that   shore   is. Hunter’s   Point   isn’t;   the   rope   swing   and   stand   there   are   safe   enough,   unless   someone   else   commits   treachery   against   it   and   sues   or   complains. Treachery   is   taught   as   a   virtue   today. Haven’t   you   seen   those   stupid   billboards,   ‘if   you   see   something,   say   something’? Call   the   police   if   you   see   anything   suspicious. Call   the   police   if   you   see   anyone   act   odd,   for   after   all   they   might   have   drugs!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It’s   not   fair.”   sulked   Travel. “We   go   there   and   the   stand   is   perfectly   safe,   and   we   have   such   fun   there,   and   then   they   go   and   smash   it! Why   do   they   think   like   that? Do   they   have   an   anti-fun   policy??”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Safety.”   jeered   the   Wild   Man. “Someone   might   get   hurt. Or,   ‘someone   did   get   hurt.’   Despite   how   many   use   it   safely,   one   person’s   injury   robs   the   many. We   must   be   safe,   you   know. No   splashing   at   the   beaches. No   horseplay. Obviously   no   foreplay! And   above   all   no   rope   swings.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   what   does   this   have   to   do   with   the   Caves?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Wild   looked   up   at   the   grim,   broken   rocks   of   the   ruined   cliff,   and   his   voice   was   sad   and   thoughtful,   though   still   with   that   saturnine   bitterness   underneath.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“They   took   one   look   and   saw   a   hole ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">‘For   Safety’s   sake!”   they   cried ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Out   whipped   the   sticks,   the   caps,   the   fuse ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“By   Safety,   let   her   ride!” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The   fuse   was   lit,   the   smoke   it   rose ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">The   whole   cliff   slipped   and   sighed ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“All   is   well,   in   Safety’s   name ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Let   the   Caves   the   ruins   hide!” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Are   the   Caves   still   there?”   said   Ronnie. “There   was   a   collapse   between   the   first   and   second   discoveries,   probably   a   result   of   the   blasting   done   to   make   the   entrance. Did   that   reach   in   very   far?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “No,”   the   Wild   Man   said,   “they   still   live. Caves   of   such   a   dimension   would   make   a   noticeable   dent   up   there   if   they   fell   in,   would   they   not? But   these   caves   are   older   than   you   know,   and   mean   more   than   you   ken.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   we’re   wasting   time. It’s   getting   on   to   rain,   and   Middlesummer   Day   begins   at   midnight.”   He   sprang   upwards,   alighting   in   sweeping   shadow   on   a   rock. “Let   the   cliff   be   returned   to   what   she   began!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             His   feet   grew   broad   and   flat   and   huge,   flowing   like   liquid   roots,   and   they   were   stone,   stone   as   solid   as   moving   flesh,   and   Wild   stood   rooted   to   the   rock. Travel’s   tent   went   flying. Ronnie   grabbed   her   hand   and   leaped   down   the   dim   rocks,   guessing   what   was   coming. With   a   ponderous   groan   the   great   moss-encrusted   boulders   rose   up   on   end,   shoving   themselves   into   place   as   smoothly   as   a   puzzle,   stone   fitting   in   stone. Far   within   the   hill   they   could   hear   other   rocks   shifting   and   grinding. Then   with   a   sigh   the   hill   was   fused   solid.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             A   single   cliff,   nearly   a   hundred   feet   high,   towered   above   them,   Wild   standing   at   the   top. Travel   and   Ronnie   drew   nearer,   wonder   on   their   faces. The   rockslope   was   gone,   save   for   the   lowest   boulders,   a   large   bare   area   of   sand   and   gravel,   tumbled   piles   of leaves   and   dirt   and   crushed   ferns   lying   at   the   cliff’s   feet. And   partway   up   the   rock   face   an   opening   yawned.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Broader   than   it   was   high,   fifty   feet   across   and   thirty   feet   above,   it   seemed   in   the   deepening   grey-green   of   dusk   like   nothing   so   much   as   an   enormous   mouth. Wild   jumped   down   with   a   thud,   his   cloak   falling   about him,   and   in   his   hands   he   swung   two   ancient   oil   lanterns,   burning   high   and   bright,   designs   in   strange   forms   traced   into   the   glass.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Well? What   are   you   staring   at?”   he   said   with   a   sour   grin.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Travel   and   Ronnie   came   toward   him. In   the   added   glow   they   saw   the   cliff   above   them,   the   surface   patchy,   some   blocks   bare   and   some   deep-furred   with   plants. Ferns   and   crushed   stems   of   bushes   stuck   out   of   seams,   like   closed   jaws. A   small   pile   of   rubble   led   stairlike   up   to   the   mouth.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   followed   the   Wild   Man   of   Winsted   into   the   Lost   Caves   of   Colebrook.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             It   ran   before   them,   a   shaft   cut   through   the   living   rock. The   roof   was   jagged   and   broken,   as   if   giant   rocks   had   all   jammed   at   once   into   a   mighty   fissure   so   that   none   ever   reached   bottom   but   remained   instead   like   an   arched   roof. Under   the   debris   of   removing   the   blockage,   here   and   there   Ronnie   made   out   a   buried   surface,   hard   and   level   as a   road. Then   the   debris   ceased   and   the   floor   ran   on,   and   it   was   indeed   level,   hard   and   smooth   as   concrete,   made   of   gravel   in   some   parts   and   in   others,   flat   bedrock. A   queer   smell,   like   the   vinegar-earth-mold   smell   Ronnie   had   noticed   before   but   with   an   added   harshness   like   stone   dust,   filled   the   air.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “This   cave   was   not   dissolved.”   Ronnie   said. His   voice   awoke   queer   echos,   running   away   to   odd   distances   and   returning   several   times.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Oh,   and   how   do   you   tell   that,   Mr. Hill?”   the   Wild   Man   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   sides   are   as   clean   as   if   cut   with   knives.”   Ronnie   said. “No   drippings   hang   from   the   rocks. I   see   only   a   few   calcite   streaks.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   speak   rightly,   Ronmond.”   said   the   Wild   Man,   marching   on   further. Openings   sundered   the   wall   on   both   sides,   some   mere   fissures   in   the   banded   rock,   some   mighty   arches   that   looked   as   if,   once,   they   had   been   cut   into   the   stone,   before   time   wore   all   signs   of   workmanship   away. “Wide   enough   to   admit   a   horse   and   carriage.”   said   the   1841   account. The   stone   was   for   the   most part   a   whiteish-blue   striped   geneiss,   banded   with   dark   red,   with   grey-blue   stripes   and   patches,   and   large   streaks   of   pink   feldspar. In   some   places   the   great   boulders   of   the   roof   jutted   down,   coming   to   within   ten   feet   of   the   floor.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “This   cave   was   never   dissolved.”   Wild   said. “It   was   delved.” Ronnie   started   back   from   a   ragged   rift   in   the   floor. His   light   showed   broken   sides   going   down   beyond   reach. “By   whom?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   Wild   Man   stopped. Here   a   few   of   the   giant   stones   making   the   roof   had   made   it   all   the   way   to   the   floor,   great   rectangular   slabs,   so   that   the   cave   narrowed   from   what   the   1841   measurements   recorded   as   83   feet   to   67   feet. In   the   light   of   the   lanterns   they   could   see   the   straight   cave   running   on   for   a   great   distance,   until   hundreds   of   feet   further   the   light   faded   out. “By   the   Dwarves,   Ronmond.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Are   you   jesting   with   me,   Wild   Man?”   Ronnie   said,   a   sudden   stern   note   in   his   voice. “Are   you   pulling   my   leg? The   Dwarves   lived   in   the   Old   World. One   would   expect   to   find   them   lingering   in   the   Alps,   or   beneath   the   Himalayas. How   did   they   ever   cross   the   Sea   to   find   the   New   World?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “They   never   did.”   Wild   answered. “The   Sea   crossed   them. You   assume   the   New   World   is   as   old   as   the   Old;   but   it   is   not,   it   formed   later,   and   the   seeming   age   of   the   mountains   comes   from   their   being   eroded   while   still   soft. Lands   broke   off,   Ronmond,   when   the   world   was   Bent;   lands   were   cast   back,   and   in those   lands   old   ruins   lurk. Of   those   great   cities   of   the   Dwarves   beneath   the   Orocarni,”   gesturing   about   him,   “this   is   all   that   remains. And   even   this   scarcely   does,   for   until   I   had   acted   all   these   rocks,”   he   pointed   overhead,   “were   all   down   here.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   had   come   a   good   seven   hundred   feet   by   now. The   air   was   cool   and   fungoid,   heavy   and   harsh   with   broken   stone. Another   hole   opened   in   the   floor,   round   as   a   cauldron   in   a   streambed,   but   not   showing   the   smoothness   of   water. The   floor   here   was   solid   rock. Ronnie   shone   in   his   light   and   saw   straight   sides   like   a   gigantic   bore,   descending   to   a   distant   gleam   of   water.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “This   is   the   well.”   said   Wild.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Hold   my   rope.”   Ronnie   said,   tossing   it   to   Wild. It   was   yellow   nylon,   coiled   around   a   stick. “I’m   going   down. How   deep   is   it?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   has   a   bottom,   beyond   light   and   knowledge.”   the   Wild   Man   said   enigmatically. “Look   closely,   though. It   may   not   be   on   the   bottom.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Ronnie,   with   Travel’s   flashlight slung   around   his   neck,   made   no   answer   as   he   rappelled   down   the   damp   sides. Wild   played   out   the   rope   steadily,   until   Ronnie   hovered   above   the   water.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   can   see   bottom.”   he   reported. “There’s…an   odd   sort   of   glow   coming   from   down   there.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Be   careful,   Ronnie,   it   could   be   some   poisonous   fish or   something.”   Travel   wailed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Ronnie   didn’t   answer. A   green   spot   of   light   gleamed   below   him. It   seemed   close   enough. Hanging   the   flashlight   by   tying   the   cord   to   the   rope,   Ronnie   let   himself   down   into   the   water.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             It   was   achingly   cold. His   flesh   felt   as   if   it   was   tying   up   in   knots   to   keep   warm. Still   deeper   he   lowered   himself,   and   the   water   swirled   and   flashed   about   him   as   if   reflecting   red   flames,   and   though   he   clung   up   to   his   neck   he   still   could   not   touch   bottom.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             He   took   a   deep   breath,   let   go   and   sank.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   water   around   him   was   lit   a   dim   and   weird   red,   and   strange   streaks   swirled   in   it,   and   suddenly   he   nearly   gulped   water:   eyes   were   staring   into   his,   framed   by   the   burning   swirls,   sad   and   tortured   eyes,   of   men   who   were   shedding   tears   as   hot   as   flame,   every   kind   of   tear   ever   wept   on   the   earth;   and   the   eyes   formed,   looked   into   his,   and   swam   away.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Now   his   feet   hit   the   bottom,   and   jamming   himself   against   the   sides   to   keep   from   floating   back   up,   Ronnie   looked   around. The   sides   were   smooth,   mirrors   reflecting   the   queerest   shapes   and   forms,   and   under   his   feet   was   a   floor of   clean   sand. Fastened   to   the   cistern   wall   by   a   latch   of   cunning   bronze,   a   silver   and   gold   ring   hung   suspended,   four   green   stars   blazing   from   two   serpent   heads   under   a   gold   crown   of   flowers. So   much   he   saw   before   he   was   frantically   fumbling   at   the   catch;   and   behold   the   cunning   mechanism   slid   open   instantly,   and   the   Ring   of   Barahir   was   on   his   hand.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Desperately   Ronnie   swam   upwards,   toward   the   far   circle   of   yellow   fire   with   the   white   star   of   the   flashlight   staring   down;   but   his   clothes   were   heavy,   and   he   had   already   breathed   in   water   when   his   hand   closed   on   the   rope.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Then   he   was   flying   out   of   the   well,   pulled   up   by   Wild   in   a   single   yank,   and   he   was   coughing   and   vomiting   and   gasping   at   the   same   time,   and   Wild   was   working   his   chest   and   arms,   and   suddenly   water   pouted   from   his   mouth,   and   he   could   breathe   again.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That   water   was   salty!”   he   managed   to   say. “Sort   of   bitter   and   fleshy   as   well. Like   tears.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   see   you   have   the   Ring.”   said   the   Wild   Man   of   Winsted.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   saw   their   eyes   all   in   a   flaming   of   fire… <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">” muttered   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Now   that   we   have   the   Ring,   let   us   leave.”   said   Wild. Gripping   both   of   them   he   tried   to   merge   with   the   floor   to   earthport   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   floor   spat   him   out.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Warded.”   Wild   whispered   in   complete   disbelief. “Warded   in   a   second. I   cannot   pass   it.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “No,   I   made   sure   you   couldn’t.”   a   bluff   and   yet   sneering   voice   came   from   the   entrance. A   large   man   was   walking   toward   them,   his   head   bald,   his   face   ruddy   and   beaming. He   wore   long   black   robes,   signs   of   power   sewed   into   them   in   purple.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Cornello.”   growled   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   were   supposed   to   say   ‘hello.’”   the   human   host   of   the   Father   of   Dragons   said   peevishly. “Hello,   Cornello,   Cornello,   hello,   get   it? But   you   people   never   did   have   a   sense   of   humor.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Get   out   of   our   way,   Dragon,   before   I   make   you.”   snapped   Wild.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             From   far   deeper   into   the   cave,   from   out   of   the   darkness   sighed   a   voice   they   had   not   yet   heard. “I   would   be   wary   of   doing   that.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             All   three   spun   around. Shadows   lay   everywhere,   cast   by   the   jags   of   the   roof,   lurking   in   the   openings,   and   darkness   lay   behind   those   shadows,   ancient   darkness   that   was   before   the   hills   were   made. And   it   was   out   of   that   darkness   that   the   sad   sighing   voice   was   coming.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Who   is   it   that   speaks?”   the   Wild   Man   snarled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   one   whom   you   fear. ''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">”   answered   the   voice. ''“The   one   for   whom   you   have   fetched   this   ring.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   Wild   Man   snatched   it   from   Ronnie’s   hand   and   held   it   up. Jewels   from   Elvinesse   sent   forth   a   light   like   flame. “Why   do   you   seek   it? A   powerless   ring,   a   symbol   of   something   dead   many   Ages,   what   could   you   possibly   need   it   for?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   darkness   only   seemed   to   grow   more   solid   before   the   green   light. ''“Yield   it   up   to   me   now,   Wild   Man. Before   we   take   it   painfully.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   still   lug   the   Oppressor   upon   your   ghostly   shoulders. I   am   born   of   the   Road   and   I   command   the   Road. I   call   down   the   Road   upon   the   Ring   of   Barahir! You   cannot   overcome   the   Road,   while   your   might   remains   unwedded   to   the   slime   you   so   despise.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Do   you   know   what   I   did   to   Arheled   with   the   Road   underneath   him,   the   Oppressor   on   my   back   and   myself   inside   a   Star?” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">   hissed   the   dreadful   voice. Wild   swayed   slightly   at   the   sheer   malice   and   the   tremendous   power   of   the   stare   coming   out   of   the   Darkness.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   have   no   power   save   against   other   minds!”   he   cried.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “And   is   your   mind,   Wild   Man,   capable   of   withstanding   mine?”   pressed   the   lord   of   the   darkness,   and   with   every   word   the   shadows   grew   wider,   drew closer.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Stop,   before   I   close   my   hand!”   gasped   the   Wild   Man. “I   have   the   strength   of   the   very   hills   themselves. I   can   crush   this   ring   to   dust,   and   absorb   the   atoms   into   me,   if   you   do   not   at   once   allow   us   to   leave!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   darkness   shook   with   a   strange,   hollow   laughter. ''   “Dragon,   show   him   his   place   in   the   scale   of   Creation.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Shifting   like   lightning   to   his   seven-headed   form,   the   Father   of   Dragons   let   out   a   blast   of   flame   mingled   with   power. A   spray   of   earth   deluged   the   power   and   swallowed   it   up.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Do   you   really   think   to   overcome   the   Wild   Man   with   such   tricks?”   he   snarled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Cornello   changed   back   to   man. “Overcoming   you   was   never   necessary.”   he   said. “Distracting   you   was. Did   you   really   for   one   moment   believe,   being   of   the   mountains,   that   you   could   withstand   the   skill   of   an   Ainu,   and   keep   out   the   tricks   of   a   Black   Seraphim? Even   Genesis   was   never   higher   than   me,   and   even   Doom   in   his   Wreath   cannot   forsee   what   I   can   do.”   He   opened   his   hand,   to   reveal   there   upon   his   finger   the   Ring   of   Barahir.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   Wild   Man   of   Winsted   changed   like   lightning. The   stone   of   the   floor   and   of   the   walls   rippled   as   his   power   launched   itself   upon   Cornello,   and   the   air   seemed   darkened   with   a   black   mist   of   power   visible. Then   cave   and   mountain   shook,   and   Wild’s   form   coalesced   again,   writhing,   his   essence   held   in   the   grip   of   an   angel’s   telekinesis.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “There   are   only   four   living   creatures   before   the   Throne   of   God. Where   are   the   other   five,   Wild   Man? Why   does   the   Holy   Mountain   still   bear   the   scars   of   our   fingers,   and   who   is   it   that   shivered   apart   the   very   Stones   of   Fire?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Travel   gave   that   queer,   broken   cry   of   hers. A   strange   blue   light   flashed   in   her   eyes. The   Ring   of   Barahir   vanished   from   Cornello’s   hand   and   reappeared   in   hers.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Stop,   before   I   send   it   into   a   lava   pit!”   she   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Cornello   made   a   contemptuous   motion   and   the   Wild   Man   of   Winsted   skidded   across   the   floor,   coming   to   rest   beside   them. “But   we   no   longer   need   it,   heir   of   the   house   of   Lane. Once   it   touched   my   hand,   its’   purpose   was   done. I   took   from   it   that   which   it   guarded.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             He   held   out   both   hands,   bowing   to   his   knees. “Receive   now,   O   Lord,   that   which   is   thine   own.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             From   the   hands   of   Cornello   a   black   mist   streamed,   passing   among   them   and   on   into   the   darkness   behind   them. At   its’   touch   all   three   felt   faint,   sickened,   as   if   they   were   herbs   wilting   before   a   bitter   wind:   cold,   potent   with   something   so   ugly   and   foul   that   the   word   evil   was   a   pale   understatement,   a   mere   wisp   of   word   beside   it. A   long   sigh   came   from   the   darkness,   as   of   one   quenching   an   ancient   thirst.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   Ring   of   Barahir   held   in   its’   substance   the   last   drop   of   the   essence   of   Chaos,   with   which   he   infected   all   matter,   and   which   has   now   returned   to   him   in   full. He   is   as   he   once   was. Soon   he   shall   incarnate. Then   beware,   little   mountain,   for   we   shall   tread   the   Road   itself   beneath   our   feet!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   long-drawn   sigh   grew   greater,   deeper,   a   mighty   rumbling   inside   the   darkness. A   rattling   sound   could   be   heard   as   of   huge   metal   objects   scraping   the   stone. Out   of   the   shadows   of   an   entrance   in   the   wall,   there   was   rising   slowly   up   a   figure   all   of   shadow,   crowned   and   terrible,   an   iron   collar   on   his   neck   and   shackles   of   a   glowing   red   metal   upon   his   feet   and   hands. Wrapped   about   him   like   a   serpent,   coiling   and   flowing   as   if   living,   was   the   chain   forged   by   the   Gods,   Angainor   the   Oppressor,   it’s   links   all   green   and   red,   the   enchanted   metal   tikal   glowing   with   their   power.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Thus   shall   the   Valar   themselves   become.” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">   said   the   lord   of   Chaos.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             As   he   spoke,   with   a   flash   and   booming   like   thunder,   Angainor   cracked   along   his   mighty   length,   that   unbreakable   tikal   splintering   like   cast   iron. The   fetters   shattered   in   a   burst   of   violet   light. With   a   clang   the   iron   collar   fell   cloven. Angainor   sent   up   a   shriek   like   the   scream   of   squealing   metal,   and   yet   it   was   like   the   cry   of   a   live   thing   as   well,   so   that   Ronnie   and   Travel   felt   their   hearts   wrung   with   pain. There   was   a   blaze   of   blinding   light,   red   and   violet   and   amber-green. And   all   thirty   fathoms   of   him   cracked   and   fell   in   fragments   upon   the   stone   floor,   and   the   chain   Angainor   met   his   end.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   lord   of   Chaos   stepped,   freed,   out   upon   the   stone   floor. His   eyes   fell   on   them   and   nailed   them   to   the   ground,   cold,   aloof,   stars   of   a   sad   and   awful   red   in   the   darkness   of   his   face.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Travel   acted   by   instinct. Her   mind   formed   hands   and   grabbed   the   others,   and   as   the   cave   around   them   faded   she   heard   the   horrid   hollow   laughter   of   the   king   of   all   destruction. “Go,   and   tell   your   White   friend   what   you   have   seen.”   she   heard   his   voice   hiss   in   her   ears.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Then   they   stumbled   forwards,   ankle-deep   in   mountain-grass.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Where   are   we?”   said   Travel.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   have   got   to   work   on   destinations,   little   lady.”   growled   the   Wild   Man. “We’re   only on   the   top   of   Knapp   Hill. Not   even   at   the   summit.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Well,   I   could   try   again…”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Forget   it.”   Wild   sighed. “You’ve   still   got   to   fetch   your   car. I’m   glad   you   brought   the   lanterns;   I’m   a   little   beat   to   go   making   new   ones.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “And   my   tent,   and   our   supplies…”   Travel   exclaimed. “They’re   way   down   there!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   night   was   stuffy   and   hot. Thick   darkness   wrapped   the   hills   in   a   smothering   blanket. It   was   silent,   except   for   the   continuous   awful   drone   and   whine   of   anticipatory   mosquitos   closing   in   on   a   meal.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Ow,   blast   these   little   monsters!”   the   Wild   Man   roared,   swatting   ferociously. A   flash   of   power    rushed   out   of   him   in   a   shock   wave   and   the   whining   drone   abruptly   ceased.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   should   do   that   more   often.”   said   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Ah,   well,   the   little   birdies   need   some   snack   food.”   mocked   the   Wild   Man. “I   do   it   when   wooing,   sometimes,   or   if   I   have   to   spend   a   while   in   human   shape. These   of   Witches’   Retreat   are   especially   vicious:   the   Witch   of   Winchester   called   them   up   to   overrun   a   farm   that   set   the   dogs   on   her. Their   remote   descendants   aren’t   quite   as   powerful,   but   they   still   make   walking   here   a   living   hell. Except   for   witches,   of   course.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Which   way   to   my   car?”   said   Travel. “And   is   it   safe   to   go   back   there? I   left   my   tent   and   such…”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Should   be   by   now.”   grunted   Wild. “I   doubt   they   stuck   around   after   the   show. Strange,   though…they   had   two   of   the   Children   in   their   grasp,   ready   for   taking   to   the   Thrones,   and   yet   they   let   us   go. Why? What’s   his   game? Is   he   that   confident   he   can   pick   you   as   he   pleases,   or   has   he   decided   he   no   longer   needs   you?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Or   are   we   too   strong   for   him?”   Ronnie   added.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Strong?”   said   Wild   doubtfully,   looking   at   him.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Yes,   strong.”   Ronnie   replied. “I   am   Catholic,   Wild. Perhaps,   though   they   can   overwhelm   you,   they   cannot   yet   take   on   the   power   of   the   Church,   and   rather   than   risk   it   being   used   on   them,   they   let   us   go.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That   does   make   sense.”   muttered   Wild. “I   do   not   think   they   fear   your   invocations;   but   your   persons   they   cannot   overpower,   not   without   trickery. Yes. Every   time   they   capture   you,   it   is   always   by   deception. Never   by   conquer.”   He   shook   himself. “Well,   I’ll   send   your   stuff   over   to   your   car,   and   then   I   had   better   conceal   the   opening. We   don’t   want   trespassers,   now do   we? Oh,   and….good   job   snatching   that.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Travel   looked   down   at   the   Ring   she   was   carrying. “Oh…thank   you.”   she   said. The   Wild   Man   bowed,   then   sank   into   the   earth   and   was   gone.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Carrying   a   lantern   apiece,   Travel   and   Ronnie   stumbled   on   over   the   hill. They   passed   the   Chair   fearfully,   but   it   was   empty,   and   Ronnie   did   not   sit   down   in   it. The   way   down   was   steep   and   long,   but   at   last   the   pale   road   showed   ahead   and   they   plodded   down   it   until   they   reached   Travel’s   car. The   tent,   neatly   packed,   lay   with   the   supplies   right   on   the   hood.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Want   me   to   drop   you   at   your   house,   Ronnie?”   said   Travel   as   she   turned   on   the   lights.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Left   my   bike   at   the   church.”   yawned   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “look   you   can   sleep   at   my   house. We   have   a   spare   room,   and   I   know   you’re   tired.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   am so   out   of   shape.”   he   mumbled. “Sounds   okay   to   me.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             It   was   about   midnight   or   so   when   they   stumbled   in   the   back   door   using   Travel’s   key. She   showed   him   to   her   mother’s   old   room,   now   the   guest   bedroom. There   was   a   fan   in   the   window. Turning   it   on   and   taking   off   his   shoes   and   socks   Ronnie   fell   down   on   the   bed   and   dropped   right   off.

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