"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.

"Not yet, my Prince," whispered the Shadow Witch. "Not yet."

An arm's length higher she sent her phantom, and made him pause. Seeing this, sure now that his enemy could go no further, Curling Smoke shot up with lightning swiftness and stood above him at last, stretched to his full height, an immensely tall and straight and slender column, poised on tiptoe to spring and overleap him. His voice rang out hoa.r.s.ely. "Ah, now you shall not escape me! At last your time has come!"

"Strike!" breathed the Shadow Witch to the waiting Prince. "Strike now!"

Swiftly Prince Ember threw back the Cloak of Ash. The Sword of Fire glowed red as it swung through the air, and redder still as it struck the limbs of Curling Smoke and clove them. As the strange heat of that fairy Sword rushed through his giant frame, Curling Smoke became as naught. His limbs were seized with faintness and trembling. The phantom Prince vanished suddenly from before him, and his own Veil that Blinds rose in darkening folds across his eyes. The Veil that Chokes swept across his mouth, and his turbulent voice was stilled. He began to shrink upward, to waver and fade, and presently he drifted helplessly into the great smoke dome and was swallowed up in it.

Then, also, before the mighty heat that flowed from the Sword of Fire, the walls and dome of the vast smoke chamber, and the smoke wreaths upon the ground, were themselves dissolved, and Prince Ember and the Shadow Witch stood free in the Plain of Ash.

"Ah, my brave Prince! By your Sword of Fire, how gloriously you have conquered!" exclaimed the Shadow Witch, with sparkling eyes.

"Forget not the magic of my dear Lady of the Shadows," Prince Ember tenderly reminded her, "for without its aid this victory could scarcely have been won."

The Shadow Witch laughed sweetly. "On, on together, then," she cried.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XIII

With the perils of the Cave of Darkness left behind, with Curling Smoke vanquished and driven far off, the Shadow Witch was happy; and in her presence Prince Ember gave no thought for the moment to any further danger that might beset them.

Danger was not far distant. In the spot that he had chosen, the Ash Goblin worked fast and diligently upon the snare with which he meant to entrap Prince Ember, hoping that he might be able to complete it before the Prince arrived.

He could plainly see the Elf's house from where he labored. He believed the Prince to be still within its walls, and he was sure that none as yet had crossed its threshold. With his twisted hands he took from the long bag hidden beneath his cloak the evil ash, of which alone his snare could be made, and sifted it carefully over the ground. Meanwhile he repeated the words of enchantment written in his Book of Craft, which he believed would make certain the capture of Prince Ember, but he took good care to repeat them silently, lest any, coming upon him unawares, should overhear them and learn his secret. As the ash fell to the ground from his fingers, it spread and ran together to form a thin and web-like film, leaving no spot uncovered.

So treacherous was this snare, that if one but stepped upon its borders, he would become unable to release his feet from it and would be drawn helplessly to its centre. There the web would rise upon him from all sides with lightning swiftness to enmesh him and draw him down till he was fast bound in its folds, and there he must perish in his vain efforts to escape. This was the trap that the Ash Goblin was cunningly and silently preparing for Prince Ember, keeping watch in the meanwhile for him to approach. He kept himself close to the ground, concealed by the ashes around him, so like they were in color to his dingy robe, and the cap that covered his matted grizzled hair. Occasionally he chuckled to himself at the thought of the discomfiture which lay in store for Curling Smoke, that boastful giant, whom he believed to be lying in wait for the Prince near to the Wizard's Cave. Such confidence had the Ash Goblin in his snare that never for an instant did he believe that the Prince could escape it and come within reach of the giant's arms.

While he worked and exulted thus, he did not forget that in conquering Prince Ember, he would pay off, also, his old grudge against the Shadow Witch for her mockery of him.

The Shadow Witch, coming across the Plain of Ash with the Prince, safe-sheltered by the Cloak of the good Elf, had been sure that they were now safe from peril, when on a sudden it seemed as if a warning hand were laid upon her. She stopped and looked around her, but saw nothing.

Then, with piercing eyes, she scanned the Plain in front. At a considerable distance from her, bent over the ash, she espied a figure well-known to her-the Ash Goblin, intent upon some task. She suspected danger, and caught at the Prince's mantle, exclaiming beneath her breath, "The Ash Goblin! See, how stealthily he creeps along! Never does he venture so far from home unless he has evil plans afoot."

Prince Ember had forgotten the Ash Goblin, had forgotten the words of the Elf of the Borderland, but now they returned to him. "Beware of the Ash Goblin! He is small of stature, but he cannot safely be despised, for he is very cunning." He followed the pointing finger of the Shadow Witch, that he might behold this new enemy, but he strained his eyes in vain.

"I see nothing but the grey Plain that lies between us and the Elf's dwelling," he replied.

She laid her hand lightly upon his eyes for a moment, and by the magic of her touch made his vision more keen. "Look now," she urged, withdrawing her hand, "and you will see."

Prince Ember obeyed, and immediately he, too, beheld the ugly form of the Ash Goblin bending over his snare. "Yes, there he is," he said, "and I remember now how earnestly the Elf of the Borderland bade me be on my guard against his cunning."

"Ah, my Prince," the Shadow Witch responded, "you may well be on your guard. Though he knows the weakness of his body too well to dare to attack an enemy in fair and open fight, he is powerful in such craft as he can carry out in secret. Whether or not he is preparing a trap for us, I cannot tell. One thing is certain, we cannot choose but pa.s.s over the place where he is at work."

"Whatever may lie in wait for us there, my dear Shadow Witch," Prince Ember a.s.sured her, "we will meet it unafraid."