Part 11 (1/2)

”He does not see us, dearest,” spoke the Prince, under his breath. ”The Cloak conceals us, as the Elf promised that it would.”

”True,” answered the Shadow Witch, ”but before we escape this giant we must do battle with him. I know well his ways, and I doubt not that he has joined himself to my brother for our destruction.”

”I have a weapon which has not yet failed me,” the Prince a.s.sured her bravely. ”With it I will meet him, and by using it valiantly shall hope to overcome him and deliver you.” He was about to draw the Sword of Fire, but the Shadow Witch prevented him.

”Not yet, not yet,” she besought him. ”Fully do I trust the marvelous power of your Sword, and it will be potent here, I doubt not, if the moment of its using be right, but I have heard that Curling Smoke cannot be vanquished in his smoke chamber until he towers within it to his fullest height. This I believe I have the power to make him do, and when he has done so, I am sure you will not strike in vain. Till then let your Sword rest quiet in its sheath, but keep your hand upon its hilt, and when I give the word, draw it at once and strike quickly.”

”It shall be as you say,” the Prince promised her, looking into her uplifted face with tender love.

While they had said these things, Curling Smoke had remained where he was, waiting, as if in the hope that he might make visible, by his mere gazing, those whom he had entrapped. Presently they heard his voice crying aloud through the fog, ”Let those beware who defy Curling Smoke.

Though they be invisible, they shall yet feel his power.”

Beneath the Cloak of Ash, the Shadow Witch raised her grey sleeves and waved them toward Curling Smoke. Prince Ember, watching to see what she was about to do, saw a creature, as if in answer to the giant's cry, take shape from among the smoke wreaths that lay along the ground and begin to creep, half hidden by them, toward the giant.

Curling Smoke suddenly beheld it also, beheld it with curiosity and astonishment, for this was neither the Prince nor the Shadow Witch, both of whom he believed to be bound by his enchantment, but a stranger. How he had entered the smoke chamber, he did not know. Remaining, poised watchfully where he was, he kept his glittering eyes upon it, till it should draw nearer.

Before it reached him it began to rise, to grow larger as it rose, and he presently saw that it was a giant like himself, though smaller and less terrible. His head was bent and his face hidden.

Curling Smoke gazed upon the newcomer with indignation. ”Who are you, who dare to venture unasked within the bounds that I have set?” he demanded imperiously.

The stranger made no answer, but ceasing to mount, stood poised directly in front of him, with his face still concealed.

”Know you not that I am the Master Magician and have power to destroy you instantly?” shouted Curling Smoke, lifting his huge hand in menace.

Still the creature did not reply.

Instantly Curling Smoke unloosed his terrible Veil that Chokes, and flung it at him. It smote against the drooped head of the unknown, but instead of suffocating him, as Curling Smoke had intended that it should, it floated harmlessly back again and hung itself about the enchanter's arm.

Foiled though he had been in his first attempt, Curling Smoke was not discomfited. He shook free his Veil that Blinds. ”This-this shall overcome you,” he cried boastfully. ”Now shall you learn how great is the power of the Magician of Veils.” With skilful hands he so wielded it, that it struck full in the eyes of the intruder, even though his head was still bent low. Yet in spite of this, the second veil drifted back defeated to its place beside the Veil that Chokes.

Wrathful and puzzled because his veils had proved themselves thus powerless against this silent and seemingly defenceless stranger, Curling Smoke thrust out his powerful arms to wind his adversary round and crush him, but the stranger melted from his coils, and stood beyond his grasp unharmed as before.

Then he began again to mount. He reached the magician's shoulders, and shooting yet higher threw back his head.

Curling Smoke, looking upon him, saw to his amazement the face of Prince Ember; a giant now in size, and grey-robed, but still Prince Ember. What had become of the Shadow Witch, by what magic the Prince had become thus transformed, the magician could not guess, nor did he care, provided he but succeeded in conquering this hated visitant from the Land of Fire.

He regarded him in silence for a moment, pondering how he should accomplish it. Here was his match in size; here was one against whom his veils were powerless; here, too, was a creature who melted from his grasp when he thought to seize and twist him. What, then, remained for him to do? This only: to overtop him and smother him by casting himself down upon him from above.

Immediately he began to send himself upward in rapidly rising spirals, so that he might throw himself down upon the stranger with the greater force, but as he mounted, the other ascended also, faster and faster, higher and higher, always head and shoulders above Curling Smoke.

As Curling Smoke rose, he shouted threats and defiance, shaking his fist at his rival and glaring up at him with malicious and baneful eyes. But the other still maintained his strange silence and met his look unmoved.

Prince Ember watching this phantom of himself from the shelter of the Cloak of Ash, marvelled at the power of the Shadow Witch who, by her magic, could so delude their foe. As he watched, he held himself in readiness to draw his sword when his companion gave the word.

Still higher towered the phantom Prince, and after him sprang Curling Smoke, wreathing his murky spirals upward, and crying out more and more boisterously as he grew the more enraged by every vain effort to reach and overleap him.

The two had almost reached the dome, and Prince Ember's hand tightened on his Sword, for he felt that the time to use it was near.