There was clearly not a moment to lose; we had to act while the Faerie court was still distracted by the return of Prudence. Jones and the young computer expert, Luke, charged into the cavern and made straight for the imprisoned men. Within moments they were at their side and sharp blades flashed in the gloom, severing the bonds that had held the three captives. While the others plunged into the darkness, Biggles, Gabriel, Mortimer and I waited on the threshold, offering prayers to whatever gods we believed in. A patch of darkness came spilling out of the cave and resolved itself into the forms of Mr J. and Langton.
The moment they dashed past I too took to my heels and fled, urging those in front to greater speed as we all ran down that narrow silver path. Glancing behind me I saw a terrible sight – Luke had not quite managed to get clear of the cavern when the Faeries realised that their captives had been rescued and a Faerie Knight stepped across his past. The poor man tried to parry the blow of that terrible blade but it was hopeless, there was a flash of silver and our companion was virtually cut in two. That spray of scarlet which sprayed across the dark trees broke the dream-like spell that had gripped us since entering the Trod and soon even Jones was fleeing for his life along the narrow path that would lead us back to daylight and sanity.
As we reached the junction and the path widened I put on a spurt of speed and left Mr J. and Langton behind. Our erstwhile superior complained bitterly but, having seen what those bright blades could do, I would not risk an encounter with them, not even to insure his safety. I was surprised to find Jones appearing at my elbow but I matched him stride for stride as we fled before the wrath of the Fey. Glancing behind we could see our other companions attempting to defend themselves, most of them were hurling knots of various complexity into the path of their pursuers which seemed to delay but not to stop them. Gabriel, remembering the words of Hawthorne and the warnings of the Piper, had opted for the more daring step of turning all his clothes inside out. From where I was I could not see whether he was successful.
I cannot fully describe the horror of that moonlit flight back along the Trod, all I recall are images … the flash of Faerie swords in the moonlight, the rasping breath of desperate men and the regular crash and slap of shoed and bare feet on the hard cold surface beneath us. A brief moment of terror as Biggles seemed to stop and was swallowed by the Faerie host. The glimpses I caught as I glanced backward showed me how desperately close the pursuit was as the other used nearly ever item of clothing they possessed to slow the hated filled Faeries.
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