The Moon of Gomrath by Alan Garner

memories linger on the Beacon.”
    â€œWhat of that? I shall be there, Colin, and my sword shall keep you.”
    For Colin the rest of the day dragged heavily. He checked in his diary and in the newspapers the time when the moon should rise: then he was struck by an agony of thought. What if it should be a cloudy night?Would that make a difference? So he read the weather forecasts and climbed the Riddings three times to look at the sky. But he need not have feared. It was a clear night when at last he crept from the farm-house and made his way to the wood.
    He met Uthecar at the Goldenstone, and they walked together through the quiet darkness.
    â€œWill the moon rise along the track?” said Colin.
    â€œThat is our greatest chance,” said Uthecar. “But I think it will. If it does not, then there is little we can do.”
    â€œAnd how shall I know the Mothan when I see it?”
    â€œIt grows alone among the rocks: there are five points to its leaves, its roots are red, and it mirrors the moon. You will know it when you see it.”
    They climbed up the mound on which the Beacon had stood. At the top was a little sandy space, and a few blocks of sandstone. They settled themselves upon the blocks, and waited. The dwarf’s sword lay across his knees.
    â€œWhat am I to do with the Mothan when I find it?” said Colin.
    â€œTake the flower, and a few of the leaves,” said Uthecar, “and give them to Susan: but see to it that you harm not the root, nor take all the leaves.”
    They sat quietly. Colin did not want to speak. Hecould not keep his voice from trembling, and all the time he was short of breath. Then, after repeatedly looking at his watch, Colin stood up and began to pace backwards and forwards across the top of the mound. He peered at the darkness. Nothing moved or showed. At last he sank down upon a stone and put his head between his hands.
    â€œIt’s no good,” he said flatly. “The moon should have risen five minutes ago.”
    â€œDo not grieve yet,” said Uthecar. “The moon will have to climb from behind the hills. Stand up, Colin: be ready.”
    The dwarf moved down a little way from Colin, leaving him alone at the top of the mound. There was a moment of silence, then Colin said:
    â€œListen. Can you hear that?”
    â€œI hear a night-sound: that is all.”
    â€œListen! It’s music – like voices calling, and bells of ice!
And look! There’s the track!”
    Suddenly through the trees and over the Beacon hill a shimmering line had flowed, a mesh of silver threads, each glistening, alive. Colin had seen something like it once before, on a rare morning when the sun had cut a path through the dewed, invisible carpet of spider’s webs that covered the fields. That had been nothing to the beauty he saw now. The track quivered under his feet,and he gazed at it as though spellbound.
    â€œRun!” called Uthecar. “Do not waste your time!”
    â€œBut which way?” cried Colin. “It stretched left and right as far as I can see!”
    â€œTo the east! To the hills! Quickly! The track will be lost when the moon passes from it! Run! Run! And fortune follow you!”
    Colin leaped down the hill, and his feet were winged with silver. Trees blurred around him, once he felt Goldenstone hard beneath him, then he burst from the wood, and there was the old, straight track, dipping and flowing over the rounded fields and rising, a silver thread like a distant mountain stream, up the face of the hills to the peak of Shining Tor, and behind it the broad disc of the moon, white as an elvan shield.
    On, on, on, on, faster, faster the track drew him, flowed through him, filled his lungs and his heart and his mind with fire, sparked from his eyes, streamed from his hair, and the bells and the music and the voices were all of him, and the Old Magic sang to him from the depths of the earth and the caverns of the