The Castle of Llyr Part 4

"It's Llyan!" cried Taran.

"You can be sure it is!" Fflewddur shouted. "Now that I see her, I quite believe Glew was gobbled up and digested long ago."

A long, wavering growl rose from the creature's throat and she hesitated a moment as if undecided where to attack. Taran, sitting up on the ground, saw for the first time what the ferocious animal looked like.

Though Glew had written of Llyan's growth, Taran had never imagined a mountain cat so big. The animal stood as tall as a horse but leaner and longer; her tail alone, thicker than Taran's arm, seemed to take up much of the room in the hut. Heavily and sleekly furred, the cat's body was golden-tawny, flecked with black and orange. Her belly was white with black splotches. Curling tufts sprouted from the tips of her ears, and s.h.a.ggy handfuls of fur curved at her powerful jaws. Her long whiskers twitched; her baleful yellow eyes darted from one companion to another. Judging from the white points of her teeth, glittering as her lips drew back in a snarl, Taran was certain Llyan could gulp down anything that suited her fancy.

The giant cat swung her great head toward Taran and moved lithely across the ground. As she did, Fflewddur unsheathed his sword; cobwebs and all, he jumped from the table, shouted at the top of his voice, and brandished the weapon. In an instant Llyan spun around. The lash of her tail sent Taran headlong once more; even before Fflewddur could strike, Llyan's heavy paw flickered through the air. Its motion was too rapid for Taran's eyes to follow; he saw only the astonished bard's weapon fly up and clatter into the doorway, while Fflewddur himself went head over heels.

With a snort and what seemed a shrug of her rippling shoulders, Llyan turned again to Taran. She crouched, thrust out her neck, and her whiskers trembled as she padded closer to him. Taran, not daring to move a muscle, held his breath. Llyan circled him, making snuffling noises. From the corner of his eye, Taran glimpsed the bard trying to climb to his feet, and warned Fflewddur to stay still.

"She's more curious than angry," Taran whispered. "Otherwise, she would have clawed us to pieces by now. Don't move. She may go away."

"Glad to hear you say that," replied Fflewddur in a choked voice. "I'll remember it while I'm being gobbled up. It will be a consolation to me."

"I don't think she's hungry," said Taran. "If she's been out hunting during the night, she must have eaten her fill."

"So much the worse for us," said Fflewddur. "She'll keep us here until her appet.i.te comes back. I'm sure this is the first time she's been lucky enough to have four dinners ready and waiting in her lair." He sighed and shook his head. "In my own realm I was always putting out sc.r.a.ps for birds and other creatures, but I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be putting myself myself out, if you take my meaning." out, if you take my meaning."

At last, Llyan settled herself across the doorway. She moistened a huge paw with her tongue and began pa.s.sing it over her ear. Engrossed in her task, she seemed to have forgotten the companions were there. Despite his fear, Taran could not help staring at her in fascination. Power filled even Llyan's gentlest movements; beneath the golden fur, glowing in the sunlight from the open door, he could guess at her mighty muscles. Llyan, he was certain, could be swift as Melynlas. But he knew also she could be deadly; and, though she did not appear ill-disposed toward the companions, her mood might change at any instant. Taran cast about desperately for a way to freedom, or at least a means of regaining their weapons.

"Fflewddur," he whispered, "make a little noise, not too much but enough so that Llyan will look at you."

"How's that?" asked the bard, puzzled. "Look at me? She'll do that soon enough. I'm thankful she hasn't yet got around to it." However, he sc.r.a.ped his boots across the floor. Llyan immediately p.r.i.c.ked up her ears and turned her eyes on the bard.

Crouching, Taran moved silently toward Llyan, his hand outstretched. His fingers cautiously reached for his sword which lay close to Llyan's paws. Quick as lightning, the mountain cat struck at him and he fell back. Had her claws been unsheathed, Taran realized with a sinking feeling, Llyan would have gained his head in addition to his weapon.

"No chance, my friend," said Fflewddur. "She's faster than any of us."

"We can be hindered no longer!" Taran cried. "Time is precious!"

"Oh, indeed it is," the bard answered, "and gets more precious the less of it we have. I'm beginning to envy Princess Eilonwy. Magg may be a foul, villainous spider and all such as that, but when it comes to teeth and claws-I should vastly prefer going against him instead of Llyan. No, no," he sighed, "I'm quite content to stretch my last moments as far as they'll reach."

Taran in despair pressed his hands against his forehead. "Prince Rhun," he called softly after a moment, as Llyan began pa.s.sing a paw over her whiskers, "stand up quietly. See if you can make your way to that broken corner of the hut. If so, climb out and run for your life."

The Prince of Mona nodded, but no sooner had he risen to his feet than Llyan growled a warning. Prince Rhun blinked and quickly sat down again. Llyan glared at the companions.

"Great Belin!" whispered Fflewddur. "Don't rouse her up any more. It will only bring on her appet.i.te. She's not going to let us out of here, that's one thing sure."

"But we must escape," Taran urged. "What if we all rushed upon her once? One of us at least might get past."

Fflewddur shook his head. "After she'd settled with the rest of us," he answered, "she'd have no trouble catching up with that lone survivor. Let me think, let me think." Frowning, he reached behind him and unslung his harp. Llyan, still growling, watched intently, but made no further move.

"It always calms me," explained Fflewddur, putting the instrument against his shoulder and pa.s.sing his hands over the harp strings. "I don't know whether it will stir up any ideas; but when I'm playing, at least things don't seem quite so dismal."

As a soft melody rose from the harp, Llyan began making a peculiar noise. "Great Belin," cried Fflewddur, stopping immediately, "I almost forgot about her! It may be calming for me, but who can tell what it might do to a mountain cat!"

Llyan now voiced a strange, pleading yowl. But, seeing Fflewddur about to sling the harp on his shoulder once again, her tone changed and sharpened. She growled menacingly.

"Fflewddur!" Taran whispered. "Play on!"

"You can't think she enjoys it," replied the bard. "I should find that hard to believe. Why, even human beings have been known to say hard words about my music. You can't expect a mountain cat to like it any better." Nevertheless, he plucked the strings once more.

This time, there was no doubt in Taran's mind that Llyan was fascinated by the harp. The great body of the cat slackened, her muscles seemed to uncoil, and Llyan blinked peacefully. To make certain, Taran asked Fflewddur to stop. As soon as the bard did so, Llyan turned restless. Her tail lashed and her whiskers trembled with what could only be vexation. As soon as the bard played again, Llyan put her head to one side, ears forward, and gazed fondly at him.

"Yes, yes!" Gurgi cried. "Do not leave off hummings and strummings!"

"Believe me," the bard answered fervently, "I haven't the slightest intention."

Llyan folded her paws under her deep, speckled chest and began making a sound like a swarm of droning bees. Her mouth curved in a smile and the tip of her tail moved gently to the music.

"That's the answer!" cried Fflewddur, springing to his feet. "Fly, friends, while she's quiet!" No sooner had he risen than Llyan, too, jumped up, furious, and the bard sank back, playing for dear life.

"Your music calms her," Taran cried in alarm, "but she still won't let us go."

"Not exactly," said the bard, pa.s.sing his fingers rapidly across the strings. "I doubt if the rest of you will have any trouble. Alas," he added ruefully, "I fear I'm I'm the one she wants to keep!" the one she wants to keep!"

CHAPTER 8.

THE H HARP OF F FFLEWDDUR.

FLY FROM HERE!" urged the bard, never ceasing to pluck his harp strings. "Begone! I've no idea how long she'll want to listen-or how long I can keep playing!"

"There must be another way," Taran cried. "We can't leave you."

"I like it no more than you do," replied the bard. "But this is your chance. You must take it now."

Taran hesitated. Fflewddur's face was grim and drawn, and he seemed already weary.

"Begone!" Fflewddur repeated. "I'll play as long as I can. By then, if she's decided not to gobble me, she may go out hunting. Don't worry. If the harp fails, I'll think of something else."

Sick at heart, Taran turned away. Llyan lay on her side across the threshold, one paw outstretched, the other gently curled against her tawny body. Her neck arched and her huge head turned toward Fflewddur. The fierce creature seemed altogether comfortable and peaceful. With yellow eyes half closed, she watched only the bard as Taran stealthily moved to join Gurgi and Prince Rhun. Taran's sword remained with the other weapons beneath her paw, and he dared not attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h it away, fearful as he was of breaking the spell of Fflewddur's harp.

The fallen stones at the corner of the hut gave a narrow pa.s.sage into the clearing. Taran motioned hurriedly for the Prince to go through. Gurgi followed on tiptoe, eyes wide with fright; he clutched his jaws in both hands to keep his teeth from chattering.

Taran still hung back, and turned once more to the bard, who gestured frantically.

"Out, out!" commanded Fflewddur. "I shall find you as soon as I can. Did I not promise you a new song? You shall hear it from my own lips. Until then-farewell!"

Fflewddur's tone and glance left no room for question. Taran flung himself past the stones. In another instant he was free of the hut.

As Taran feared, the horses had broken their tethers and fled at the sight of Llyan. Gurgi and Prince Rhun had crossed the clearing and vanished into the forest. Racing at top speed, Taran soon caught up with them. Rhun's pace had already begun to flag, his breathing was labored, and he looked as though his legs might give way at any moment. Taran and Gurgi caught the staggering Prince and bore him along as fast as they could.

For some while, the three struggled through the underbrush. The forest had begun to grow spa.r.s.er and Taran caught sight of a broad meadow. At the edge of the flatland, he halted. Prince Rhun, he knew, had reached the end of his strength and he hoped only that they were a safe distance from Llyan.

The Prince of Mona gratefully dropped to the turf. "I shall be up and about in a moment," he feebly insisted. His face was pale and drawn beneath its coating of soot, yet he tried valiantly to a.s.sume his usual cheerful grin. "Amazing how running seems to tire one. I'll be glad when we find the Master of Horse and I can ride again."

Taran did not answer immediately but looked closely at Rhun. The Prince of Mona bowed his head.

"I can guess what you're thinking," Rhun said in a low voice. "If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't be in this plight. And I'm afraid you're right. It's my fault things turned out as they did. I can only ask your forgiveness. I'm not the cleverest person in the world," Rhun added, smiling sadly. "Even my old nurse used to say I was all thumbs. But I hate being a blunderer. It's not what people expect of a Prince. I didn't ask to be born into the Royal House, that that at least wasn't my doing. But, since I was, I-I want very much to be worthy of it." at least wasn't my doing. But, since I was, I-I want very much to be worthy of it."

"If you want to, then you shall." Taran answered, suddenly and strangely touched by the Prince of Mona's frankness, and not a little ashamed of his own unkind thoughts about Rhun. "I ask your own forgiveness. If I envied your rank, it was because I believed you held it as a lucky gift and took it for granted. You speak the truth. For a man to be worthy of any rank, he must strive first to be a man."

"Yes, that's what I mean," Rhun said eagerly. "That's why we must rejoin the Master of Horse as soon as we can. Don't you see? In this I'd hoped not to fail. I want-well-I want to be the one who finds Princess Eilonwy. After all, I'm to be betrothed to her."

Taran looked at him in astonishment. "How do you know this? I had thought only your parents..."

"Oh, there have been rumors around the castle," replied Rhun, "and I sometimes hear a little more than I'm supposed to. I knew there was a betrothal in the wind even before I was sent to bring Princess Eilonwy to Mona."

"Eilonwy's safe return is all that matters now," Taran began. He spoke slowly, knowing in his heart that he, no less than Rhun, yearned to be Eilonwy's rescuer. But he realized there was a decision he must face without flinching. "The searchers by this time are far distant," Taran said, each word costing him an effort, yet each word forcing him to a choice as painful as it was clear. "Without horses, we cannot hope to reach them. Continuing our own search on foot would be too hard and too dangerous. We have only one path to follow: the one that will lead us back to Dinas Rhydnant."

"No, no!" Rhun cried. "I don't care about the danger. I must find Eilonwy."

"Prince Rhun," Taran said gently, "I must also tell you this. Your father asked for my oath, and I have given it, to keep you from harm."

Rhun's face fell. "I might have guessed as much. Certainly I knew from the beginning, no matter what my father said about putting me in command, I wasn't really leading. No more than I am now. I understand. I'm under your orders. Whatever's to be done, you are the one to decide."

"There are others who can finish the task," Taran said. "As for us..."

"See with lookings!" burst out Gurgi, who had been crouching near a fallen ash tree. "See, coming with chasings and racings!" He waved his arms excitedly and pointed to a low ridge. Taran made out a figure running at top speed.

His harp bouncing at his shoulder, his cloak rolled up and clutched under one arm, and his lanky legs pumping for all they were worth, the bard dashed down the slope. He flung himself to the ground and mopped his streaming face.

"Great Belin!" Fflewddur gasped. "I'm glad to see all of you again." From his cloak he drew out the lost swords and handed them to the companions. "And I think we shall all be glad to see these."

"Are you wounded?" Taran asked. "How did you escape? How did you find us?"

Still puffing, the bard raised a hand. "Give me a moment to catch my breath, for I lost it somewhere along the way. Wounded? Well, yes, in a manner of speaking," he added, glancing at his blistered fingers. "But I had no trouble finding you. Rhun must have carried off all the ashes in Glew's fireplace. I could hardly miss the trail.

"As for Llyan," Fflewddur went on, "the bards will sing of that, you can be sure. I must have played, sung, whistled, and hummed everything I ever knew, and twice over. I was sure I'd have to keep plucking and strumming for the rest of my life, however short that might be. Recall my plight!" he cried, leaping to his feet. "Alone with a ferocious monster. Bard against beast! Beast against bard!"

"You slew her," Taran exclaimed. "A bold stroke-though a pity, for she was beautiful in her way."

"Ah-well, the truth of it is," Fflewddur said hastily, for the harp strings had tensed as though they might all break at once, "she finally went to sleep. I s.n.a.t.c.hed up our swords and ran for dear life."

Fflewddur sank back to the turf and immediately began munching the food Gurgi had offered him.

"But I shouldn't vouch for Llyan's temper when she wakens," the bard continued. "She's bound to come after me. These mountain cats are trackers born; and since Llyan's ten times bigger than an ordinary creature, she's surely ten times more cunning. She'll not give up easily. I have the feeling her patience is as long as her tail. But I'm surprised you've not gone farther. I thought you'd be well on your way to join the search."

Taran shook his head. He told the bard of the decision to return to Dinas Rhydnant.

"I suppose it's the best thing to do," Fflewddur reluctantly agreed. "Especially now, when Llyan may be prowling."

Taran scanned the hills for the easiest and safest path to follow. He caught his breath. A dark shape sped high above. It veered, circled, then drove directly toward him.

"It's Kaw!" Taran ran ahead and held out his arms. The crow dropped swiftly and lighted on Taran's outstretched wrist. The bird showed signs of grueling flight; his feathers were askew and he looked like a bundle of rags, but he clacked his beak and jabbered excitedly.

"Eilonwy!" Kaw croaked. "Eilonwy!"

CHAPTER 9.

THE L LUCK OF R RHUN.

HE'S FOUND HER!" Taran shouted, as the companions pressed around the frantic crow. "Where has Magg taken her?"

"Alaw!" croaked Kaw. "Alaw!"

"The river!" Taran exclaimed. "How far is it?"

"Close! Close!" replied Kaw.

"No question of going back to Dinas Rhydnant now," cried Prince Rhun. "Magg's in our hands. We'll have the Princess back again in no time at all."

"If Llyan doesn't have us in her paws first," muttered Fflewddur. He turned to Taran. "Can Kaw bear word to the Master of Horse? I don't mind telling you I should feel safer with a few warriors behind me."

"We dare not lose time," Taran answered. "Prince Rhun is right. We must act now or Magg will slip through our fingers. Quickly, old friend," he said to Kaw, urging the crow aloft, "guide us to the Alaw."

They set off in haste. The crow fluttered from one tree to the next, jabbering impatiently until the companions drew closer. Then, launching himself once more into the air, Kaw streaked onward in the direction he wished them to follow. The crow, Taran knew, was doing his best to bring them as quickly as possible out of the hills; but many times the forest and underbrush formed such a tangled barrier the companions were forced to draw their swords and hack their way through.

Their path did not ease until well past midday, when Kaw led them across a low, rolling plain which soon fell into pebbly ravines. The turf was short and stubbly, with many splotches of bare ground where chalk-white boulders were strewn like giant hailstones.

"With all of Rhuddlum's warriors combing Mona," Fflewddur cried angrily, as they began the descent toward the river, "how has that spider managed to escape us for so long?"

"Magg has been more cunning than we thought," Taran said bitterly. "I'm sure he took Eilonwy into the Hills of Parys. But he must have hidden away, without moving until he knew the search had swept beyond him."

"The villain!" Fflewddur snorted. "So it must have been. While we all went tracking farther and farther away from the castle, that foul Magg waited at his ease until we'd gone so far ahead that he was behind us! No matter. We'll soon have him by the heels and he'll pay for that trick!"

Kaw, circling in great loops above the companions, had grown more agitated and began a raucous croaking. Taran caught a glimpse of the Alaw flashing below: Kaw, in a burst of speed, flew directly toward it. With Prince Rhun gasping and puffing behind them, the companions ran down the slope. Kaw, lighting on a branch, madly flapped his wings.

Taran's heart sank. There was no trace of Eilonwy or Magg. In another moment he dropped to one knee. Fflewddur!" he shouted. "Quickly! Here are hoof prints. Two horses." He followed the trail for a few paces, then halted, puzzled.

"See this," he said to the bard and Gurgi, who had come up beside him. "The tracks follow different paths. I don't understand what could have happened. Prince Rhun," he called, "can you see anything of the steeds?"

No answer came from the Prince of Mona. Taran leaped to his feet and spun about. "Rhun!" he cried. But there was no sign whatever of the Prince. "He's wandered off again!" Taran shouted furiously. "f.e.c.kless dolt! Where has he gone?"

Calling anxiously for Rhun, the three raced on to the riverbank. Taran was about to set off alone to seek him when the Prince of Mona appeared from a stand of willows.