The outer walls crumbled under the first impact of the sea. Blocks of stone shuddered and split away. The towers of Caer Colur swayed, and the ground reeled under Taran's feet.
Gwydion's voice rang above the tumult. "Save yourselves! Caer Colur is destroyed! Jump clear of the walls or they will crush you!"
Taran saw that the Prince of Don had clambered to the highest rocks of the embankment to which Achren had fled. There, Gwydion strove to lead her from the collapsing stones, but she struck at him and clawed his face. Her shrieks and curses pierced the rumble of onrushing waves. Gwydion faltered and fell as the embankment gave way.
The last barrier of ruined wall toppled. A hissing sheet of water blotted out the sky. Taran clasped Eilonwy to him. The flood swept them away and bore them under. Salt foam choked him and the merciless buffeting of the tide nearly tore the unconscious girl from his arms. He struggled upward while the island split and sank in a whirlpool that clutched him. Gripping Eilonwy, Taran fought dear of the whirlpool only to fall prey to breakers tossing him like wild stallions.
He spun to the trough of the waves while the sea pounded strength and breath from him. Still, he was able to hope, for it seemed the white-crested breakers were bearing him and his frail burden closer to shore. Dizzied and half-blinded by the green-black waves, Taran caught a confused glimpse of beach and shallow surf. He struck out weakly with his free arm. But in this last effort his failing body betrayed him and he tumbled into darkness.
TARAN AWOKE UNDER A GRAY SKY. The roaring in his ears was not the surf. Two enormous yellow eyes peered into his own. The roaring grew louder. Hot breath was on his face. As Taran's sight cleared, he saw sharp teeth and a pair of tufted ears. He realized in confusion that he was lying flat on his back and Llyan was standing over him with one huge, padded paw on his chest. He cried out in alarm and struggled to free himself.
"Hullo, hullo!" Prince Rhun was now bending over him, a wide grin on his round face. Beside him was Fflewddur. The bard, like Rhun, was soaked and bedraggled, and strands of dripping seaweed hung from his yellow hair.
"Steady, now," said Fflewddur. "Llyan means you no harm. She only wants to be friendly, though sometimes she has odd ways of showing it." He patted the cat's great head and scratched under her mighty jaws. "Come, Llyan," he coaxed, "there's a good girl. Don't stand on my friend; he's not up to it yet. Behave yourself and I'll play you a tune as soon as my harp strings dry."
Fflewddur turned once more to Taran. "We have to thank Llyan for a great deal. Everything, in fact. She fished us all out of the surf after the sea had washed us up. If she hadn't, I'm afraid we should still be there."
"It was really surprising," put in Prince Rhun. "I thought for certain I'd been drowned, and the curious thing was I couldn't notice any difference!"
"I did have a start when I came to my senses with Llyan sitting beside me," said Fflewddur. "She had my harp between her paws, as though she couldn't wait for me to wake up and begin again. The creature is mad about my music! That's why she tracked us all the way here. And, Great Belin, I'm glad she did! But I think she's finally understood there's a time and place for everything. She's really been quite gentle," he added, as Llyan began to rub her head against him with such vigor the bard could hardly keep his balance.
"Where are the others?" Taran interrupted anxiously.
"Kaw, I fear, is nowhere to be found. Gurgi's gone looking for driftwood to build a fire," replied the bard. "Poor creature, he's still terrified of Llyan. But he'll get used to her. I've grown quite fond of her myself. It's not often one finds such a good listener, and I think I shall keep her. Or," he added, while Llyan nuzzled her whiskers on his neck and gripped the bard with her powerful paws, "perhaps I should put it the other way around."
"What of Eilonwy, of Gwydion?" Taran pressed.
The bard's glance fell. "Yes, well," he murmured, "they're here. Gwydion has done all he can."
With mounting anxiety Taran rose unsteadily to his feet. In the lee of a tumble of rock Gwydion knelt beside two forms. Taran stumbled across the beach. Gwydion looked up at him, his face filled with concern.
"Eilonwy lives," he said, answering the question in Taran's eyes. "More than that I cannot say. This much I know: Achren no longer holds her."
"Achren― Achren is dead, then?" Taran asked. He stared at the black-shrouded figure.
"Achren, too, lives," answered Gwydion, "though long she hung between life and death. But her power is broken now. This is the answer to the riddle, yet I did not know it until I stood before her in the Great Hall. At first, I was not certain. When l understood that she would truly let herself go down to death before giving up Eilonwy, I knew she had lost command of all but the least of her own enchantments. I read it in her eyes and in her voice. Her day had begun to wane from the moment she had broken with the Lord of Annuvin.
"The spells of Caer Colur were her last hope. Now they are gone and Caer Colur lies at the bottom of the sea," Gwydion added. "We need fear Achren no longer."
"I fear her still," Taran said, "and I shall not forget Caer Colur. Achren spoke the truth to me," he went on quietly. "I had not the strength to listen to her any longer. I feared I would tell the hiding place of the Pelydryn― and hoped you would slay me before I did. Yet," Taran added, puzzled, "it was you, yourself who spoke."
"It was a risk that had to be taken," Gwydion replied. "I had suspected something of the nature of the bauble; as it alone could reveal the spells, so it alone could destroy them. Only then could Eilonwy be free. At what cost to herself, I could not be sure. Alas, she has suffered deeply and grievously, perhaps too much."
"Dare we waken her?" Taran whispered.
"Touch her not," said Gwydion. "She must waken of herself. We can only wait and hope."
Taran bowed his head. "I would have given my life to keep her from harm, and I would give it now to spare her this." He smiled bitterly. "Achren asked what shall be the lot of an Assistant Pig-Keeper? It is a question I have often asked myself. I see now the life of an Assistant Pig-Keeper is of little use or import. Even to offer it for someone else is of no avail."
"Prince Rhun would gainsay you," Gwydion answered. "Without you, he would have wandered lost and in mortal danger."
"I swore an oath to King Rhuddlum," Taran replied. "I did not break it."
"And had you not sworn an oath," Gwydion asked, "would you not have done the same?"
Taran was silent for a while, then he nodded. "Yes, I believe I would. It was more than my oath that bound me. He needed my help, as I needed his." He turned to Gwydion. "I remember, too, when a Prince of Don aided a foolish Assistant Pig-Keeper. Is it not fitting now for the Pig-Keeper to aid a Prince?"
"Whether it be Prince or Pig-Keeper," said Gwydion, "such is the way of a man. The destinies of men are woven one with the other, and you can turn aside from them no more than you can turn aside from your own."
"And you, Lord Gwydion," came Achren's voice, "you have put a cruel destiny upon me."
The black-cloaked figure had risen. Achren clung to the rocks to bear herself up. Her face, half-hooded, was drawn and haggard and her lips were pale. "Death would have been a kindness. Why did you deny it to me?"
Taran shrank back as the once-haughty Queen raised her head. For an instant he saw her eyes flame again with pride and fury.
"You have destroyed me, Gwydion," she cried. "Do you hope to see me grovel at your feet? Are my powers indeed stripped away?" Achren laughed harshly. "One last remains to me."
It was then Taran saw she held a weathered branch of driftwood. She lifted it high and Taran gasped as in her hands it blurred and shimmered. Suddenly in its place was a dagger.
With a shout of triumph Achren plunged it toward her own breast. Gwydion sprang to her and seized her wrists. Achren fought against him as he tore the blade from her grasp. Once more the dagger became driftwood, which Gwydion snapped in two and cast away. Achren fell sobbing to the sand.
"Your enchantments have ever
been the enchantments of death," said Gwydion. He knelt and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Seek life, Achren."
"No life remains to me but that of an outcast," cried Achren, turning from him. "Leave me to myself."
Gwydion nodded. "Find your own path, Achren," he said softly. "Should it lead you to Caer Dallben, know this: Dallben will not turn you away."
The sky had grown heavy with clouds; and, though it was little past midday, the high crags rising at the shore seemed purple with dusk. Gurgi had built a fire of driftwood and the companions sat silently near the sleeping Eilonwy. Farther down the beach, Achren, muffled in her cloak, crouched alone and unmoving.
For all that morning, Taran had not left Eilonwy's side. Fearful she might never wake and fearful, too, that she might waken as a stranger to him still, he did not rest from his weary vigil. Gwydion himself could not foretell how long-lasting was the harm that had been done her.
"Do not lose heart," Gwydion said. "It is good that she sleeps and more healing to her spirit than any potion I could give her."
Eilonwy stirred restlessly. Taran started up. Gwydion put a hand on his arm and gently drew him back. Eilonwy's eyelids fluttered. Gwydion, his face grave, watched closely as her eyes opened. and she slowly raised her head.
Chapter 20
The Pledge
THE PRINCESS SAT UP and looked curiously at the companions.
"Eilonwy," Taran whispered, "do you know us?"
"Taran of Caer Dallben," said Eilonwy, "only an Assistant Pig-Keeper could ask a question like that. Of course I know you. What I don't know is what I'm doing soaking wet and covered with sand on this beach."
Gwydion smiled. "The Princess Eilonwy has come back to us."
Gurgi shouted with joy and in that instant Taran, Fflewddur, and Prince Rhun began talking all at once. Eilonwy clapped her hands over her ears.
"Stop, stop!" she cried. "You're making my head swim. Listening to you is more confusing than trying to count your fingers and toes at the same time!"
The companions forced themselves to be silent while Gwydion quickly told her all that had happened. When he had finished, Eilonwy shook her head.
"I can see you had a much more interesting time than I had," she said, scratching Llyan's chin as the immense cat purred with pleasure. "Especially since I don't recall much of it.
"Too bad that Magg escaped," Eilonwy went on. "I wish he were here now. I should have a few things to take up with him. That, morning when I was on my way to breakfast, he came looming out of one of the corridors. He told me something very serious had happened and I was to come with him immediately."
"If only we could have warned you," Taran began.
"Warned me?" Eilonwy replied. "Of Magg? I knew straight off, from the very look of him, he was up to something."
Taran stared at her. "And yet you went with him?"
"Naturally," said Eilonwy. "How else was I going to find out? You were so busy sitting in front of my chamber and threatening to have a guard put round me. I knew there was no use trying to get any sense out of you."
"Do not judge him harshly," said Gwydion, smiling. "He thought only to protect you. He was under my orders to do so."
"Yes, I realize that," said Eilonwy, "and I soon began to wish all of you had been with me. By then it was too late. We'd no sooner got clear of the castle than Magg tied me up. And gagged me! That was the worst of it! I couldn't speak a word!
"But it spoiled his own scheme," she went on. "He had indeed waited in the hills until the searching party was far ahead of us. Then he dragged me into the boat. His shins will be black and blue for a while to come, I assure you. But I dropped my bauble. Since I was gagged, I couldn't make him understand I wanted it back.
"But it served him right. Achren was furious when she saw I didn't have it. She blamed Magg, and I'm surprised she didn't have his head off then and there. To me, she was very sweet and thoughtful, so I knew right away something disagreeable was to come.
"After that," Eilonwy continued, "Achren cast a spell over me and I remember very little. Until the bauble was in my hands once more. Then― then it was very strange. In the light of it, I could see all of you. Not with my eyes, really, but in my heart. I knew you wanted me to destroy the spells. And I wanted to as much as you did.
"Yet, it was as though there were two of me. One did and one didn't want to give up the spells. I knew it was my only chance to become an enchantress, and if I gave up my powers then that would be the end of it. I suppose," she said softly to Taran, "I felt a little the way you did long ago in the Marshes of Morva, when you had to decide to give up Adaon's magic brooch.
"The rest of it wasn't pleasant." Eilonwy's voice faltered. "I'd― I'd rather not talk about that." She was silent a moment. "Now I shall never be an enchantress. There's nothing left for me now except being a girl."
"That is more than enough cause for pride," Gwydion said gently. "For all you chose to sacrifice; you have kept Achren from ruling Prydain. We owe more than our lives to you."
"I'm glad the book of spells burned up," Eilonwy said, "but I'm sorry I lost my bauble. By this time it's surely floated far out to sea." She sighed. "There's nothing to be done about that. But I shall miss it."
As she spoke, Taran glimpsed a flickering movement against the dark gray sky. He leaped to his feet. It was Kaw, swooping landward at top speed.
"The last of our strays!" cried Fflewddur.
Llyan's ears pricked up, her long whiskers twitched, but she made no attempt to lunge for the crow. Instead, she rose to her haunches and purred fondly at the sight of her former opponent.
His feathers bedraggled and pointing every which way, Kaw fluttered above Eilonwy. Despite his disreputable appearance, he squawked and snapped his beak with enormous self-satisfaction. "Bauble!" Kaw croaked. "Bauble!"
From his claws the Golden Pelydryn dropped into Eilonwy's outstretched hands.
GWYDION AT FIRST had decided the companions should rest until morning, but Prince Rhun was eager to return to Dinas Rhydnant.
"There's a great deal to be done," he said. "I'm afraid we've let Magg look after things we should have seen to ourselves. There's more to being a Prince than I thought. I've learned that from an Assistant Pig-Keeper," he added, clasping Taran's hand, "and from all of you. And there's still most of Mona to be seen. If I'm ever to be King, I'm sure I should see it all. Though, I hope, in a rather different way. So if you don't mind, I should like to set out now."
Gurgi had no wish to linger anywhere near Caer Colur, and Fflewddur could hardly wait to show Llyan her new home in his own realm. Eilonwy insisted she was quite able to travel, and at last Gwydion agreed they would start without delay. He agreed, too, that they would pass by the cavern to see how Glew fared, for Taran still held to the promise he had made to help the wretched giant.
The ragged band made ready to leave the coast. Achren, finally consenting to voyage to Caer Dallben, walked slowly, withdrawn into her own thoughts, while Llyan frisked beside the bard, and Kaw sported overhead.
Eilonwy had gone for a moment to the edge of the surf. Taran, following her, stood as she watched the dancing waves.
"I thought I should have a last look at Caer Colur," Eilonwy said, "just to remember where it is. Or rather, where it isn't. I'm sorry, in a way, that it's gone. Outside of Caer Dallben, it was the only home I had."
"Once you are safe at Dinas Rhydnant," Taran said, "I shall stay no longer on Mona. I had hoped, after all you'd been through, that― that you'd come back with us. But Gwydion is sure that Dallben meant for you to stay here. I suppose he's right. I can hear Dallben now:. Being rescued has nothing to do with being educated."
Eilonwy said nothing for a while. Then she turned to Taran. "One thing more I remembered at Caer Colur: Dallben's saying that there was a time when we must be more than what we are. Can it be true that being a young lady is more important than being an enchantress? Perhaps that's what he meant. I shall have to find out for myself.
>
"So if I must learn to be a young lady, whatever that may be that's any different from what I am," Eilonwy continued, "then I shall try to learn twice as fast as those silly geese at Dinas Rhydhant and be home twice as soon. For Caer Daliben is my only real home now.
"Why, what's this?" Eilonwy cried suddenly. The sea has given us a present!"
She knelt and from the foaming surf drew a battered object and stripped away the trailing seaweed. Taran saw an ancient battle horn, bound in silver with a silver mouthpiece.
Eilonwy turned it over in her hands and looked carefully at it. She smiled sadly. "It's all that's left of Caer Colur. What use it might be, I don't know and never shall. But if you promise not to forget me until we meet again, I promise not to forget you. And this shall be my pledge."
"I promise gladly," Taran said. He hesitated. "But what pledge have I to give you? I have none, other than my word."
"The word of an Assistant Pig-Keeper?" said Eilonwy. "That shall do very well indeed. Here, take it. Giving gifts is much nicer than saying farewell."
"And yet," Taran answered, "we must say farewell. You know that King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria mean to betroth you to Prince Rhun."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Eilonwy. "Well, I assure you they shall do no such thing. There's limits to having people make up your mind for you. Rhun has certainly improved; I think this journey was the best thing that ever happened to him and someday he might even make a respectable sort of King. But as for being betrothed…" She stopped suddenly and looked at Taran. "Did you seriously think for a moment I would ever…? Taran of Caer Dallben," she cried angrily, her eyes flashing, "I'm not speaking to you!
"At least," Eilonwy added quickly, "not for a little while."
FB2 document info
Document ID: ooofbtools-2011-6-27-11-13-16-1248
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 27.06.2011
Created using: ExportToFB21 software
The Castle of Llyr cop-3 Page 13
