The Black Cauldron Page 4

  "Oh, you'll never learn how to use my bauble," Eilonwy said with impatience. She took back the golden ball, cupped it in her hand, and the light vanished.

  Adaon, recognizing the girl, put his hand anxiously on her shoulder. "Princess, Princess, you should not have followed us."

  "Of course she shouldn't," Taran put in angrily. "She must return immediately. She's a foolish, scatterbrained..."

  "She is uncalled and unwanted here," said Ellidyr, striding up. He turned to Adaon. "For once the pig-boy shows sense. Send the little fool back to her pots."

  Taran spun around. "Hold your tongue! I have swallowed your insults to me for the sake of our quest, but you will not speak ill of another."

  Ellidyr's sword leaped up. Taran raised his own. Adaon stepped between them and held out his hands. "Enough, enough," he ordered. "Are you so eager to shed blood?"

  "Must I hear reproof from a pig-boy?" retorted Ellidyr. "Must I let a scullery maid cost me my head?"

  "Scullery maid!" shrieked Eilonwy. "Well, I can tell you..."

  Gurgi, meantime, had clambered cautiously from the tree and had loped over to stand behind Taran.

  "And this!" Ellidyr laughed bitterly, gesturing at Gurgi. "This--- thing! Is this the black beast that so alarmed you, dreamer?"

  "No, Ellidyr, it is not," murmured Adaon, almost sadly.

  "This is Gurgi the warrior!" Gurgi boldly cried over Taran's shoulder. "Yes, yes! Clever, valiant Gurgi, who joins master to keep him from harmful hurtings!"

  "Be silent," Taran ordered. "You've caused trouble enough."

  "How did you reach us?" Adaon asked. "You are on foot."

  "Well, not really," Eilonwy said, "at least, not all the way. The horses didn't run off until a little while ago."

  "What?" cried Taran. "You took horses from Caer Dallben and lost them?"

  "You know perfectly well they're our own horses," declared Eilonwy, "the ones Gwydion gave us last year. And we didn't lose them. It was more as if they lost us. We only stopped to let them drink and the silly things galloped away. Frightened, I suppose. I think they didn't like being so close to Annuvin, though I'll tell you truthfully it doesn't bother me in the least.

  "In any case," she concluded, "you needn't worry about them. The last we saw, they were heading straight for Caer Dallben."

  "And so shall you be," Taran said.

  "And so shall I not!" cried Eilonwy. "I thought about it a long time after you left, every bit as long as it took you to cross the fields. And I decided. It doesn't matter what anybody says, fair is fair. If you can be allowed on a quest, so can I. And there it is, as simple as that."

  "And it was clever Gurgi who found the way!" Gurgi put in proudly. "Yes, yes, with whiffings and sniffings! Gurgi does not let gentle Princess go alone, oh, no! And loyal Gurgi does not leave friends behind," he added reproachfully to Taran.

  "Since you have come this far," Adaon said, "you may await Gwydion. Although how he will deal with you two runaways may not be to your liking. Your journey," he added, smiling at the bedraggled Princess, "seems to have been more difficult than ours. Rest now and take refreshment."

  "Yes, yes!" Gurgi cried. "Crunchings and munchings for brave, hungry Gurgi!"

  "That's very kind and thoughtful of you," said Eilonwy with an admiring glance at Adaon. "Much more than you can expect from certain Assistant Pig-Keepers."

  Adaon went to the stock of provisions, while Ellidyr strode off to his guard post. Taran sat down wearily on a boulder, his sword across his knees.

  "It's not that we're starving," Eilonwy said. "Gurgi did remember to bring along the wallet of food. Yes, and that was a gift from Gwydion, too, so he had every right to take it. It's certainly a magical wallet," she went on; "it never seems to get empty. The food is really quite nourishing, I'm sure, and wonderful to have when you need it. But the truth of the matter is, it's rather tasteless. That's often the trouble with magical things. They're never quite what you'd expect.

  "You're angry, aren't you," Eilonwy went on. "I can always tell. You look as if you've swallowed a wasp."

  "If you'd stopped to think of the danger," Taran replied, "instead of rushing off without knowing what you're doing."

  "You're a fine one to talk, Taran of Caer Dallben," said Eilonwy. "Besides, I don't think you're as angry as all that, not after what you said to Ellidyr. It was wonderful the way you were ready to smite him because of me. Not that you needed to. I could have taken good care of him myself. And I didn't mean you weren't kind and thoughtful. You really are. It just doesn't always occur to you. For an Assistant Pig-Keeper you do amazingly well..."

  Before Eilonwy could finish, Ellidyr gave a shout of warning. A horse and rider plunged into the grove. It was Fflewddur. Behind him galloped Doli's shaggy pony.

  Breathless, and with his yellow hair pointing in all directions, the bard flung himself from the steed and ran to Adaon.

  "Make ready to leave!" he cried. "Take the weapons. Get the pack horses moving. We're going to Caer Cadarn..." He caught sight of Eilonwy. "Great Belin! What are you doing here?"

  "I'm tired of being asked that," Eilonwy said.

  "The cauldron!" cried Taran. "Did you seize it? Where are the others? Where is Doli?"

  "Here, where else?" snapped a voice. In another instant Doli flickered into sight astride what had seemed to be an empty saddle. He jumped heavily to the ground. "Didn't even take time to make myself visible again." He clapped his hands to his head. "Oh, my ears!"

  "Gwydion orders us to fall back immediately," the bard went on in great excitement. "He and Coll are with Morgant. They'll catch us up if they can. If not, we all rally at Caer Cadarn."

  While Ellidyr and Adaon hurriedly untethered the animals, Taran and the bard packed the store of weapons. "Keep these," Fflewddur ordered, pressing a bow and quiver of arrows into Eilonwy's hands. "And the rest of you, arm yourselves well."

  "What happened?" Taran asked fearfully. "Did the plan fail?"

  "The plan?" Fflewddur asked. "That was perfect. Couldn't have been better. Morgant and his men rode with us to Dark Gate--- ah, that Morgant! What a warrior! Not a nerve in him. Cool as you please. You might have thought he was going to a feast." The bard shook his spiky head. "And there we were, on the very threshold of Annuvin! Oh, you'll hear songs about that, mark my words."

  "Stop yammering," ordered Doli, hastening up with the agitated pack horses. "Yes, the plan was fine," he cried angrily. "It would have gone slick as butter. There was only one thing wrong. We wasted our time and risked our necks for nothing!"

  "Will one or the other of you make sense?" Eilonwy burst out. "I don't care about songs or butter! Tell us straight out! Where is the cauldron?"

  "I don't know," said the bard. "Nobody knows."

  "You didn't lose it!" Eilonwy gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. "No! Oh, you pack of ninnies! Great heroes! I knew I should have gone with you from the beginning."

  Doli looked as if he were about to explode. His ears trembled; he raised himself on tiptoe, his fists clenched. "Don't you understand? The cauldron is gone! Away! Not there!"

  "That's not possible!" Taran cried.

  "Don't tell me it isn't possible," Doli snapped. "I was there. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. I went in first, just as Gwydion ordered. I found the Hall of Warriors. No trouble at all. No guards, in fact. Aha, think I, this will be easier than whistling. I slipped in--- I could have done it in full view in broad daylight. And why? Because there's nothing to guard! The platform was empty!"

  "Arawn has moved the cauldron," Taran interrupted. "There is a new hiding place; he's locked it up somewhere else."

  "Don't you think I have the wits I was born with?" Doli retorted. "That was the first thing that came into my head. So I set off again--- I'd have searched Arawn's own chamber if I'd had to. But I hadn't gone six paces before I ran into a pair of Arawn's guards. Or they ran into me, the clumsy oafs," Doli muttered, rubbing a bruised eye. "I went along with them a little way. By
then, I'd heard enough.

  "It must have happened a few days ago. How or who, I don't know. Neither does Arawn. You can imagine his rage! But whoever they were, they got there ahead of us. They did their work well. The cauldron is gone from Annuvin!"

  "But that's wonderful!" said Eilonwy. "Our task is done and it cost us nothing more than a journey."

  "Our task is far from done," said the grave voice of Adaon. He had finished loading one of the pack horses and had come to stand beside Taran. Ellidyr, too, had been listening closely.

  "We've lost the glory of fighting for it," Taran said. "But the important thing is that Arawn has it no longer."

  "It is not so easy," Adaon warned. "This is a stinging defeat for Arawn; he will do all in his power to regain the cauldron. But there is more. The cauldron is dangerous in itself, even out of Arawn's grasp. What if it has fallen into other evil hands?"

  "Exactly what Gwydion himself said," Fflewddur put in. "The thing has somehow got to be found and destroyed without delay. Gwydion will plan a new search from Caer Cadarn. It would seem our work has just begun."

  "Mount your steeds," Adaon ordered. "We cannot overburden our pack animals; the Princess Eilonwy and Gurgi will share our own horses."

  "Islimach will bear only me," Ellidyr said. "She has been trained so, from a foal."

  "I would expect that, being a steed of yours," Taran said. "Eilonwy will ride with me."

  "And I shall take Gurgi with me on Lluagor," Adaon said. "Come now, quickly."

  Taran ran to Melynlas, leaped astride, and pulled Eilonwy up after him. Doli and the others hastened to mount. But as they did, savage cries burst from either side of them and there was a sudden hiss of arrows.

  *¤*nihua*¤*

  Chapter 5

  The Huntsmen of Annuvin

  THE PACK HORSES SHRIEKED

  in terror. Melynlas reared, as arrows rattled among the branches. Fflewddur, sword in hand, spun his mount and plunged against the attackers. Adaon's voice rang above the din. "These are Huntsmen! Fight free of them!"

  At first it seemed to Taran the shadows had sprung to life. Formless, they drove against him, seeking to tear him from his saddle. He swung his sword blindly. Melynlas pitched furiously, trying to break away from the press of warriors.

  The sky had begun to unravel in scarlet threads. The sun, rising against black pines and leafless trees, filled the grove with a baleful light.

  Taran now saw the attackers numbered about a dozen. They wore jackets and leggings of animal skins. Long knives were thrust into their belts, and from the neck of one warrior hung a curved hunting horn. As the men swirled around him, Taran caught his breath in horror. Each Huntsman bore a crimson brand on his forehead. The sight of it filled Taran with dread, for he knew the strange symbol must be a mark of Arawn's power.

  He fought against the fear that chilled his heart and drained his strength.

  Behind him, he heard Eilonwy cry out. Then he was seized by the belt and dragged from Melynlas. A Huntsman tumbled with him to the ground. Closely grappled, Taran could not bring his sword into play. The Huntsman raised himself abruptly and thrust a knee against Taran's chest. The warrior's eyes glinted; he bared his teeth in a horrible grin as he raised a dagger.

  The Huntsman's voice froze in the midst of a shout of triumph and he suddenly fell backward. Ellidyr, seeing Taran's plight, had brought down his sword in one powerful blow. Thrusting the lifeless body aside, he heaved Taran to his feet.

  For an instant their eyes met. Ellidyr's face, below a bloodstained mat of tawny hair, held a look of scorn and pride. He seemed about to speak, but turned quickly without a word and ran toward the fray.

  In the grove there was a sudden moment of silence. Then a long sigh rippled among the attackers as though each man had drawn breath. Taran's heart sank as he remembered Gwydion's warning. With a roar, the Huntsmen renewed their attack with even greater ferocity, dashing themselves against the struggling companions in a surge of fury.

  From astride Melynlas, Eilonwy fitted an arrow to her bow. Taran hurried to her side. "Do not slay them!" he cried. "Defend yourself but do not slay them!"

  Just then a hairy, twiggy figure burst from the scrub. Gurgi had snatched up a sword nearly as tall as himself. His eyes shut tightly, he stamped his feet, shouted, and swung the weapon about him like a scythe. Furious as a hornet, he raced back and forth among the Huntsmen, bobbing up and down, his blade never still.

  As the warriors sprang aside, Taran saw one of them clutch the air and spin head over heels. Another Huntsman doubled up and fell, pounded by invisible fists. He rolled across the ground in an attempt to escape the buffeting, but no sooner did he climb to his feet than a shouting, thrashing warrior was flung against him. The Huntsmen lashed out with their weapons, only to have them ripped from their hands and tossed into the scrub. Against this charge they fell back in alarm.

  "Doli!" Taran cried. "It's Doli!"

  Adaon took this moment to plunge forward. He seized Gurgi and hoisted him to Lluagor's back. "Follow me!" Adaon shouted. He turned his mount and shot past the struggling warriors.

  Taran leaped to the back of Melynlas. With Eilonwy clinging to his belt, he bent low over the horse's silver mane. Arrows flew past him as Melynlas streaked ahead. Then the stallion was clear of the grove and pounding across open ground.

  Ears back, Melynlas galloped past a line of trees. Dry leaves flew in a whirlwind beneath churning hooves, as the stallion sped to the brown crest of a hill. For a moment Taran dared to glance behind him. Below, a number of Huntsmen had separated from the band, and with great strides held to the track of the fleeing companions. They were swift, even as Gwydion had warned. In their jackets of bristling skins they seemed wild beasts rather than men, as they spread in a wide arc across the slope. As they ran, they called out to one another in a weird, wordless cry that echoed almost from the brooding crags of Dark Gate itself.

  Cold with dread, Taran urged Melynlas on. Clumps of grass rose high among fallen tree trunks and withered branches. Ahead, Lluagor galloped down an embankment.

  Adaon had brought them to a river bed. Dark water lay in a few shallow pools, but for the most part it was dry and the clay banks rose high enough to offer concealment. Adaon reined in Lluagor and cast a quick glance behind him to make sure all had followed, then beckoned the companions to move forward. They set off at a rapid gait. The river bed wound its way through high-standing firs and tattered alders, but after a little time the embankment fell away and a sparse forest became their only cover.

  Although Melynlas did not slacken speed, Taran saw the pace had begun to tell on the other horses. Taran himself longed to rest. Doli's shaggy pony labored through the trees; the bard had ridden his own mount into a lather. Ellidyr's face was deathly pale, and he was bleeding heavily from his forehead.

  They had not, as far as Taran could tell, stopped hastening westward, and Dark Gate lay some distance behind them, though its peaks no longer could be seen. Taran had hoped Adaon could have fallen back toward the path they had used earlier with Gwydion, but he knew now they were far from it and traveling still farther.

  Adaon led them to a dense thicket and signaled them to dismount. "We dare not stay here long," he warned. "There are few hiding places Arawn's hunters will not discover."

  "Then stand and face them!" cried the bard. "A Fflam never shrinks!"

  "Yes, yes! Gurgi will face them too!" put in Gurgi, although he seemed barely able to lift his head.

  "We shall stand against them only if we must," Adaon said. "They are stronger now than before and will not tire as quickly as we will."

  "We should make our stand now," Ellidyr cried. "Is this the honor we gain from following Gwydion? To let ourselves be tracked down like animals? Or do you fear them too much?"

  "I do not fear them," Taran retorted, "but it is no dishonor to shun them. This is what Gwydion himself would order."

  Eilonwy, though exhausted and disheveled, had not lost the use of her to
ngue. "Oh be quiet, both of you!" she commanded. "You worry so much about honor when you'd be better off thinking of away to get back to Caer Cadarn."

  Taran, who had been crouched against a tree, raised his head from his hands. From a distance came a long, wavering cry. Another voice answered it, then another. "Are they giving up the hunt?" he asked. "Have we outrun them?"

  Adaon shook his head. "I doubt it. They would not pursue us this far only to let us escape." He swung stiffly to Lluagor's back. "We must ride until we find a safer place to rest. We would have little hope if we let them come upon us now."

  As Ellidyr strode to the weary Islimach, Taran took him by the arm. "You fought well, Son of Pen-Llarcau," he said quietly. "I think that I owe you my life."

  Ellidyr turned to him with the same glance of contempt Taran had seen in the grove. "It is a small debt," he replied. "You value it more than I do."

  They set out once again, moving deeper into the forest, as rapidly as their strength allowed. The day had turned heavy with dampness and chill. The sun was feeble, wrapped in ragged gray clouds. Their progress slowed in the tangle of underbrush and the wet leaves mired the struggling animals. Doli, who had been bent over his saddle, straightened abruptly. He looked sharply around him. Whatever he saw caused him to be strangely elated.

  "There are Fair Folk here," he declared, as Taran rode up beside him.

  "Are you sure?" Taran asked. "How do you know?"

  Though he looked closely, he could see no difference between this stretch of forest and the one they had just passed through.

  "How do I know? How do I know?" snapped Doli. "How do you know how to swallow your dinner?"

  He kicked his heels against the pony's flanks and hurried past Adaon, who halted in surprise. Doli jumped down, and after examining several trees ran quickly to the ruins of an enormous hollow oak. He thrust his head inside and began shouting at the top of his voice. Taran, too, dismounted. With Eilonwy at his heels, he ran to the tree, fearful the fatigue and strain of the day had at last driven the dwarf out of his wits.