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In Which Eilonwy is Properly Terrified for the First Time in this Story

EILONWY

Gwyn the Hunter! Eilonwy had never heard his horn and hounds before but she knew the sounds they had just heard could belong to no other. Ooh, it was as if her bones had turned to water and her blood to ice! She really was in a proper adventure now, like one in a ballad or a book, but it wasn't at all nice like she thought it would be. And Hen Wen was missing, and the armies of the Horned King were marching on Caer Dathyl. Armies really were so much larger than she'd imagined before. And everything was really quite dreadful. She halfway extended her arm towards Taran, beside her, but she wasn't going to let him know she was afraid! Not at all. She drew it back.

Hoof beats sounded then at the edge of the meadow. Taran jumped to his feet and Eilonwy did, too. "The Horned King's scouts!" rang out the voice of Fflewddur Fflam. "They've seen us!"

Indeed, four mounted warriors were fast approaching. They held long, wicked looking lances out in front of them and galloped. "I could try to make another web," Eilonwy said nervously. "But I'm afraid the last one wasn't too useful."

Taran drew his sword. "There are only four of them. We match them in numbers at least."

Fflewddur shook his head. "Put up your blade," he ordered. "Arrows first. We'll have work enough for swords later."

The Assistant Pig-Keeper may have led them up to this point, but now the runaway king took charge. His eyes were bright; his hair blew in the wind. He was unafraid, and even looked excited. "I haven't had a good fight in years," he told them. "That's one of the things I miss, being a bard. They'll see what it means to attack a Fflam!"

He organized them in a line, and all of them nocked arrows on bows. Fflewddur said, quite calmly, "Draw. Take Aim." There was an awful pause. Then he cried aloud, "Loose!"

Eilonwy's arrow fell far short of its mark, but Gurgi's landed square and deep in the throat of one of the horsemen. His lance fell from his grip, and he tumbled from the saddle and lay still. Gurgi cried out in triumph.

"They know we can sting! Loose again!" Fflewddur called.

But now the warriors were cautious. The three remaining horsemen lifted bucklers against the companions' next volley. Two rode straight for them. One veered off though, and Eilonwy saw he meant to cut through them from the side! But Fflewddur was ready for this. "Now, friends! Back to back!"

The companions made a circle, their faces outward. Doli loosed another arrow at the lone horseman coming at them from the side. His arrow flew behind the warrior's buckler and found its mark. This man, too, dropped his arms and tumbled from the saddle. He lay on the grass there, twitching, and his horse, wild-eyed, galloped away. The other warriors, seeing their companion fall, as one pulled on their reins. They veered away, away from the companions, and back towards the main body of the Horned King's army.

Eilonwy's heart raced. She shouted aloud with delight. "We've beaten them! That's like bees driving away eagles!"

Fflewddur shook his head. He was sweating. "They'll spend no more men on us. When they come back, they'll come back with a war band. That's highly complimentary to our bravery, but I don't think we should wait for them. A Fflam knows when to fight and when to run. At this point, we had better run."

"I won't leave Hen Wen," declared Taran.

Eilonwy thought this was brave and good of him, but foolish, considering their changed circumstances. Doli summed up her thoughts. "Go look for her. You'll lose your head as well as your pig."

"Crafty Gurgi will go," said the same. "With bold seekings and peekings."

"In all likelihood they'll attack again," Fflewddur said to Taran, not unsympathetically. "We can't afford to lose what little strength we have. A Fflam never worries about being outnumbered, but one sword less could be fatal. I'm sure your pig is able to look out for herself; wherever she may be, she is in less danger than we are."

Reluctantly, Taran accepted the wisdom of Fflewddur's words. "It is true. But it grieves me to lose her for the second time. I had chosen to abandon my search and go to Caer Dathyl; then, after Gurgi found Hen Wen, I had hoped to accomplish both tasks. But I fear it must be one or the other."

"The question is," Fflewddur said grimly, "Is there any chance at all of warning the Sons of Don before the Horned King attacks? Doli is the only one that can answer that."

Doli frowned, but it wasn't a disagreeable, unsociable frown. It was the sort of frown a person had when they were trying to solve a problem. "Possible," he said at last. "But we'll have to go into the valley. We'll be in the middle of the Horned King's vanguard if we do."

"Can we get through?" Taran asked.

"Won't know until you've tried," Doli said.

Fflewddur opened his mouth, then stopped. And again he deferred to Taran of Caer Dallben. "The decision is yours," he said.

Taran swallowed hard, but he nodded. "We shall try."

Eilonwy's stomach turned over. The bees would attack the eagle again, and see what damage they did. She followed Doli's lead with the companions once more. They pressed on without ceasing, almost as fast as they had gone that time when the Cauldron Born had been after them. The sun set and darkness fell. Clouds covered the moons and stars like a coffin lid, and thunder rumbled ominously, but rain did not fall. Still they pressed on. Once, they spied flames in the trees not a bowshot away, but Doli made them hide behind trees until the Horned King's troop had passed again. At last, they came into the valley of the Ystrad that they had been trying to reach for days. They kept under cover then, darting from grove to grove like shadows.

But when the sun rose, they saw that the armies of the Horned King had marched just as swiftly. The columns of fighting men filled the valley like loathsome ants or beetles, as numerous, but far more deadly. "Too late," Taran whispered, seeing the men. "Too late. We have failed."

Eilonwy felt cold, and not just because she had been marching all night, either. But just when things seemed darkest, Fflewddur Fflam stepped up, eyes blazing. "There is one thing we can do," he cried. "Caer Dathyl lies straight ahead! Let us go on, and make our last stand there."

Taran did not even hesitate. His face went very still. His mouth became a little, hard line, and he nodded. "Yes, my place is at the side of Gwydion's people. Doli shall lead Gurgi and Eilonwy to safety." He fiddled with his belt, not looking at the dwarf. "You have guided us well," he murmured. Return to your king with our gratitude. Your work is done."

Eilonwy felt she might scream. Here they were at the door of doom and that stupid Assistant Pig-Keeper thought that he was going to pack her off out of danger? Where would she go? What would she do? Sit and wait while he got himself and Fflewddur killed? She opened her mouth, but Doli beat her to it.

"Done! Idiots and numbskulls! It's not that I care what happens to you, but don't think I'm going to watch you get hacked to pieces. I can't stand a botched job. Like it or not, I'm going with you."

An arrow whistled over his round cap then, and Melyngar reared with a mighty neigh. A party of foot soldiers came running out of the woods. And all Fflewddur's talk of standing together at the gates of Caer Dathyl went out the window. "Begone!" he cried to Taran of Caer Dallben in a loud voice. "Ride as fast as you can, or it will be death for all of us!"

He drew his sword, and when Taran would not go, seized him angrily by the shoulders and all but threw him towards Melyngar. He pushed Eilonwy after Taran. Eilonwy watched him as Taran pulled her up like a sack of flour into the saddle behind him. Fflewddur Fflam's hair was wild, his face was stone, but his eyes were steady and full of resolve. Eilonwy thought then that Fflewddur Fflam, runaway king and fraudulent bard that he was, was probably the bravest person she had ever met, and maybe ever would again.

She clung to Taran, her heart pounding in time to the beats of Melyngar's hooves, as the horse galloped towards the Horned King's own party at the head of the army. Eilonwy heard a shriek of iron, and knew, though she wasn't looking, that Taran had drawn his sword. She clung on more tightly to him, and then they were in the midst of many warriors.

It was the first real melee battle she had ever been in, and all she remembered later of it was that it had been very confusing and frightening. She thought that maybe she cried with fear, because, of course, she couldn't draw Dyrnwyn to defend herself. Instead, she held onto Taran and felt him straining left and right, beating off the angry faces, clutching hands, and slicing swords that seemed to be closing in on them at every moment.

Then, miraculously, the air was clear again. Melyngar, worthy steed, had broken through and outpaced the Horned King's men. Eilonwy looked behind and saw several warriors knocked off their horses, dead or wounded because of Taran. But one still pressed on after it. Eilonwy stifled a scream. It was the Horned King! And he gained upon them.

Melyngar turned from the path, away from the gates of Caer Dathyl and into the woods, but he followed them still, forgetting his army and his invasion in his malice. Eilonwy's heart was in her throat and still he gained! He drew up beside them, tried to cut them off. Melyngar reared, and Eilonwy was thrown from the saddle.

She landed, by some miracle, on her feet and frantically helped Taran to his. He kept his hold on her arm and shoved her back into the trees, away from Melyngar and the Horned King's dark horse, and away from the Horned King. He struck out with his sword, without knowing what he did. The Horned King dismounted, and quite slowly, walked towards Taran.

Eilonwy screamed. He would kill them! He would kill them both, but worse, worse, he would kill Taran of Caer Dallben, her splendid new fool of a friend, and she would have to watch him do it. Taran turned though, turned bravely and stared into the death mask and the empty eyes behind it. He brought up his sword to defend his body and the Horned King brought down his own shining blade. Taran's weapon shattered.

Taran dropped his sword, and the Horned King paused. He gave a savage, wordless cry of enjoyment, savouring his imminent kill. And Taran took the moment. "Dyrnwyn!" he cried. "Give me the sword!"

He tore it from Eilonwy's shoulder, and she screamed at him, not sure if she wanted him to draw it, to save them both, or feared for what would happen if he dared. He did, though, he drew it. He wrenched it, only a little, from its sheath.

But Dyrnwyn had been forbidden to those without royal blood, and though Taran was the nicest person Eilonwy had ever met, royal he was not. The scant inches of the sword gave out a blinding white light, and lightning zapped up Taran of Caer Dallben's arm like some acid snake. The sword flew from his hand, and Taran fell to the ground with a yell and lay there, face twisted in pain. Behind the Horned King's mask, Eilonwy thought that she could see his eyes glint with hideous, evil triumph. He raised his blade.

And she wouldn't, she just wouldn't let him smite Taran. Not caring if he killed her for it, weaponless, Eilonwy hurled herself at the barbaric war leader, shrieking at the top of her voice. But he tossed her aside as if she were a rag doll and she lay, aching, beside Taran. Helpless.

But a voice rang out then, harsh like a crow's, but clearer and louder than any she'd heard yet. The word the voice cried though, was undistinguishable. And then…

A/N: Yes, so that would be a terribly cruel cliffhanger, if you weren't already familiar with the book.

Coming 2/12: Gwydion is reunited with an Assistant Pig-Keeper. Though it doesn't seem like Taran of Caer Dallben has achieved much in his travels, the clear-sighted prince knows better, and makes friends with the boy in anticipation of the man he will become.

Please leave me a review to tell me what you think!

LMSharp