* * * * *
The goblins had been carrying the companions through the tunnels so long that Oswald had lost all track of time. He had sunk into a kind of comatose doze, his thoughts deep, his grip on reality weak.
An impression of vast, echoing space opening up jerked him out of his trance. He lifted his head. Dimly illuminated by the glow of Caradawg’s torch, the tunnel plunged steeply towards the floor of a wide cavern. Thick knots of dark figures were huddled about the foot of the incline.
The goblin king went to the edge of the slope. The goblins below lifted their faces up towards them. The king spoke.
They twisted into a crouch before him, then straightened up, and spoke agitatedly, indicating the high vaulted roof of the cavern. Was it something concerning the outside world? Oswald wondered with a sudden burst of hope.
His face like thunder, Puck turned towards Grimbert.
‘You failed to secure our retreat,’ he hissed. ‘My spies amongst the mountain peaks report that King Caradawg’s foes are even now forging their way across the deserted mountains high above us. They appear to be heading for Nant Gwynant, and Dinas Emrys!’
‘Hywel?’ he said, laughing maniacally. ‘He can’t stop us. Can he?’
Grimbert pursed his lips. ‘Not if we stop him first,’ the wizard replied. He turned to the goblin king.
‘Do the old people dwell in the forests above us?’ he asked. ‘The wild men of the woods?’
‘I possess allies amongst their kind,’ Grimbert replied. He sank to the floor and produced his bone flute, beginning to play upon it. Slowly, he sank into a trance. Caradawg and the goblins gazed uncertainly at him.
Oswald also watched him, praying that this would delay them. But what would it mean for Hywel and his men? And was Edwin among them?