Free Astrid Lindgren, illustrated by Ilon Wikland, translated from the Swedish by Jill Morgan by Astrid Lindgren Page A

Deepest Cave in the Blackest Mountain,” Eno had said.
    â€œOh, Pompoo,” I began. “You’ll see . . .”
    I stopped. And I knew that the end had come, because now a long, long line of black spies came storming out of the Dead Forest. Some came running, some came charging on black horses, and they all came straight toward us. They had seen us, and they shouted loudly with their horrible raspy voices.

    â€œThe enemy is in our midst. There he is! Capture him! Capture him! Orders from Sir Kato that the enemy must be caught.”
    We stood there, Pompoo and I, with our backs against the cliff and we saw the spies coming closer and closer. Yes, the end had come! I would never fight Sir Kato. I became very sad. I wanted to lie down on the ground and cry. Tomorrow night Eno would hear a bird flying over the lake, a bird that wailed louder and more sorrowfully than all the others. And Eno would stand by his window, murmuring to himself, “Out there flies Prince Mio.”

The Deepest Cave in the Blackest Mountain
    B UT THEN SOMETHING strange happened. The cliff we were pressing against gave way and before we knew how it happened, we were standing inside the mountain, Pompoo and I, trembling like two lambs hunted by the wolf.
    We didn’t need to be scared. We were inside the mountain and the spies were outside. The cliff had closed, there was no opening. They could never catch us here. But we heard them raging outside.
    â€œSearch! Search everywhere!” they shouted. “The enemy was in our midst, but now he’s vanished. Search everywhere!”
    â€œYes, you search,” I said. “You’ll never find us here.”
    We were so glad, Pompoo and I, and we laughed loudly inside the mountain. But I thought of Miramis and then I didn’t laugh anymore.
    We looked around. We were in a big cave. It was dark, but not completely dark. We saw a faint light, but couldn’t tell where it came from. Many dark passages led from the cave farther into the mountain.
    â€œIn the Deepest Cave in the Blackest Mountain lives the Swordsmith,” Eno had said. Maybe one of the dark passages led to the Swordsmith, but which one? We didn’t know. We would probably have to walk for a long time before we found him.
    â€œWell anyway, now we’re inside the Blackest Mountain,” said Pompoo.
    â€œWe’re definitely inside,” I said, “but I don’t think we’ll ever find the way out again.”
    Because it was a mountain to easily become lost in, it was the kind of mountain you dream about sometimes. You walk and you walk in strange, dark passages and never find the way out.
    Hand in hand Pompoo and I walked farther into the mountain. We felt so small and confused, and it was probably a long way to the Deepest Cave.
    â€œIf only the mountain weren’t so scary,” said Pompoo. “If only the passages weren’t so dark and if we weren’t so small and alone.”
    We walked and walked. The passage divided. It branched out in every direction. A whole network of dark passages led into the mountain. Sometimes the faint light grew a bit stronger, so we could see a few yards in front of us, but sometimes it was so dark we couldn’t see anything at all. Sometimes the passage was so low that we couldn’t stand straight, sometimes the ceiling was as high as in a church. The mountain walls were damp with water, it was cold, and we wrapped our cloaks tighter around us so we wouldn’t freeze.
    â€œMaybe we’ll never find the way out and never find the Swordsmith’s cave,” said Pompoo.
    We were hungry and we ate a little of the Bread That Satisfies Hunger. We only ate a little, because we didn’t know how long it must last.
    We continued walking while we ate. When I had finished my bread, we came to a place where the passage split into three different paths.
    Water ran down the wall of the passage and I was thirsty. I