The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain) (4 page)

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Authors: Lloyd Alexander

BOOK: The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain)
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Doli, having turned himself invisible, had departed toward Dark Gate. Taran found the bard strapping his beloved harp more securely to his shoulders. “I doubt I’ll really need it,” Fflewddur admitted. “On the other hand, you never know what you’ll be called on to do. A Fflam is always prepared!”
Beside him, Coll had just donned a close-fitting, conical helmet. The sight of the stouthearted old warrior, and the cap hardly seeming enough to protect his bald head, filled Taran suddenly with sadness. He threw his arms around Coll and wished him good fortune.
“Well, my boy,” said Coll, winking, “never fear. We’ll be back before you know it. Then, off to Caer Dallben and the task is done.”
King Morgant, cloaked heavily in black, halted at Taran’s side. “It would have done me honor to count you among my men,” he said. “Gwydion has told me a little of you, and I have seen you for myself. I am a warrior and recognize good mettle.”
This was the first time Morgant had ever spoken directly to him, and Taran was so taken aback with surprise and pleasure that he could not even stammer out an answer before the war-leader strode away to his horse.
Taran caught sight of Gwydion astride Melyngar and ran to him. “Let me go with you,” he pleaded again. “If I was man enough to sit with you in council and to come this far, I am man enough to ride with your warriors.”
“Do you love danger so much?” asked Gwydion. “Before you are a man,” he added gently, “you will learn to hate it. Yes, and fear it, too, even as I do.” He reached down and clasped Taran’s hand. “Keep a bold heart. Your courage will be tested enough.”
Disappointed, Taran turned away. The riders vanished beyond the trees and the grove seemed empty and desolate. Melynlas, tethered among the other steeds, whinnied plaintively.
“This night will be long,” Adaon said, looking intently past the shadows at the brooding heights of Dark Gate. “You, Taran, shall stand first watch; Ellidyr second, until the moon is down.”
“So you shall have more time for dreaming,” Ellidyr said with a scornful laugh.
“You will find no quarrel with my dreams tonight,” replied Adaon good-naturedly, “for I will share the watch with both of you. Sleep, Ellidyr,” he added, “or if you will not sleep, at least keep silent.”
Ellidyr angrily wrapped himself in his cloak and threw himself on the ground near Islimach. The roan whickered and bent her neck, nuzzling her master.
The night was chill. Frost had begun to sparkle on the dry sedge and a cloud trailed across the moon. Adaon drew his sword and stepped to the edge of the trees. The white light caught his eyes, turning them brilliant as starshine. He was silent, head raised, alert as a wild creature of the forest.
“Do you think they’ve gone into Annuvin yet?” Taran whispered.
“They should soon be there,” Adaon answered.
“I wish Gwydion had let me go with him,” Taran said with a certain bitterness. “Or with Morgant.”
“Do not wish that,” Adaon said quickly. His face held a look of concern.
“Why not?” asked Taran, puzzled. “I would have been proud to follow Morgant. Next to Gwydion, he is the greatest war lord in Prydain.”
“He is a brave and powerful man,” Adaon agreed, “but I am uneasy for him. In my dream, the night before we left, warriors rode a slow circle around him and Morgant’s sword was broken and weeping blood.”
“Perhaps there is no meaning in it,” Taran suggested, as much to reassure himself as Adaon. “Does it always happen—that your dreams are always true?”
Adaon smiled. “There is truth in all things, if you understand them well.”
“You never told me what you dreamed of the others,” Taran said. “Of Coll or good old Doli—or yourself, for the matter of that.”
Adaon did not reply, but turned again and looked toward Dark Gate.
Unsheathing his sword, Taran moved worriedly to the edge of the grove.
In the Shadow of Dark Gate
T
he night passed heavily, and it was nearly time for Ellidyr’s turn at guard, when Taran heard a rustling in the shrub. He raised his head abruptly. The sound stopped. He was unsure now that he had really heard it. He held his breath and waited, poised and tense.
Adaon, whose ears were as keen as his eyes, had also noticed it and was at Taran’s side in an instant.
There was, it seemed to Taran, a flicker of light. A branch cracked nearby. With a shout, Taran swung up his blade and leaped toward it. A golden beam flashed in his eyes and a squeal of indignation struck his ears.
“Put down that sword!” Eilonwy cried. “Every time I see you, you’re waving it around or pointing it at somebody.”
Taran fell back dumbfounded. As he did, a dark figure bounded past Ellidyr, who sprang to his feet, his blade unsheathed and whistling through the air.
“Help! Help!” howled Gurgi. “Angry lord will harm Gurgi’s poor tender head with slashings and gashings!” He scuttled halfway up a pine tree, and from the safety of his perch shook a fist at the astonished Ellidyr.
Taran pulled Eilonwy into the protection of the grove. Her hair was disheveled, her robe torn and mud-stained. “What have you done?” he cried. “Do you want us all killed? Put out that light!” He seized the glowing sphere and fumbled vainly with it.
“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.

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