much with terror as with rage, he cowered under Achren's threatening glance.
The book of spells lay open in Eilonwy's outstretched hand. She had taken the Golden Pelydryn and was looking at it curiously. In the depths of the golden sphere a tiny light like a whirling, blazing snowflake had begun to take shape. She frowned, and a strange expression came over her face. As Taran watched, horror-stricken, Eilonwy shuddered violently, her head flung from one side to the other as though in pain. For an instant her eyes opened wide and she appeared about to speak. Her voice was no more than a gasp. Yet in that fleeting moment it seemed to Taran she had regained some vague memory of herself. Was it his own name she had tried hopelessly to cry out? The girl swayed as if torn between mighty forces that stormed within her.
'Read out the spells!' Achren ordered.
Little by little the light of the Golden Pelydryn grew brighter. Throughout the Great Hall rose a faint, confused whispering, as though the wind had gained tongue, urging cajoling, commanding. The very stones of Caer Colur seemed to have taken voice.
'Quickly! Quickly!' cried Achren.
Eilonwy, Taran realized in a surge of hope, was struggling against all that held her. The anguished girl was beyond all threats of Achren, beyond all help from the companions.
Then, suddenly, her lonely combat ended. Taran cried out in despair as Eilonwy raised the glowing sphere and in a quick motion brought it close to the empty pages.
The Golden Pelydryn flared brighter than he had ever seen it and Taran flung up his hand to shield his eyes. Light flooded the Hall. Gurgi threw himself to the ground and covered his head with his shaggy arms. The companions drew back fearfully.
Suddenly Eilonwy cast the book to the flagstones. From the pages burst a crimson cloud that spread into a sheet of fire, leaping upward to the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall. Even as the book of spells consumed itself in its own flames, the blaze did not dwindle but instead rose ever higher, roaring and crackling, no longer crimson but blindingly white. The shriveled pages swirled in a fiery whirlwind to dance within the shimmering heart of the flame, and as they did, the whispering voices of Caer Colur groaned in defeat. The scarlet curtains of the alcove blew outward, seized in the writhing column of fire. Now the book had vanished utterly, but still the flames mounted unappeased.
Achren was shrieking, shrieking in rage and frenzy, her face distorted with hopeless fury. Still clutching the Golden Pelydryn, Eilonwy crumpled and fell.
Chapter 19
The Flood
GWYDION LEAPED FORWARD. 'Your power is ended, Achren!' he cried. The livid Queen staggered for an instant, then turned and fled screaming from the Great Hall. Taran raced to Eilonwy's side and, heedless of the flames, struggled to raise the girl's limp body. Gwydion sped to overtake Achren. The bard followed them, his sword drawn. Magg had vanished. Gurgi and Prince Rhun hastened to aid Taran. Within moments Fflewddur returned. His face was ashen.
'The spider tries to drown us!' he shouted. 'Magg has opened the gates to the sea!'
As the bard called out, Taran heard a thunder of surf. Caer Colur trembled. Shouldering the unconscious Eilonwy, he stumbled through a ruined casement. Kaw circled frantically above the towers. Fflewddur was urging the companions toward the portals, where they might hope to gain the boat. Taran followed him only to see, in despair, the great iron-bound gates nearly ripped from their hinges by tho the pounding water. Shattered, they had swung inward, and the foaming tide rushed upon the island like a ravening beast.
Beyond the walls, at the crest of a driving wave, rode Achren's vessel, mast askew and sails flapping. The surviving warriors clung to the sides of the tossing craft and fought to climb aboard. At the bow stood Magg, his face contorted with hate, shaking his fist at the crumbling fortress. The wreckage of Gwydion's boat spun in the flood, and Taran knew all means of escape were shattered with it.
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.
