Taran whispered coaxingly, 'but you'll be safe in Caer Dathyl.'
The pig followed reluctantly; but as Doli set off once again, she lagged behind, and it was all Taran could do to urge her forward. Her pink snout trembled; her eyes darted from one side of the path to the other.
At the next halt Doli summoned Taran. 'Keep on like this,' he cried, 'and you'll have no chance at all. First a gwythaint delays us, now a pig!'
'She's frightened,' Taran tried to explain to the angry dwarf. 'She knows the Horned King is near.'
'Then tie her up,' Doli said. 'Put her on the horse.'
Taran nodded. 'Yes. She won't like it, but there's nothing else we can do.' A few moments before, the pig had been crouched at the roots of a tree. Now there was no sign of her.
'Hen?' Taran called. He turned to the bard. 'Where did she go?' he asked in alarm.
The bard shook his head. Neither he nor Eilonwy had seen her move; Gurgi had been watering Melyngar and had not noticed the pig at all.
'She can't have run off again,' Taran cried. He raced back into the woods. When he returned, his face was pale.
'She's gone,' he gasped. 'She's hiding somewhere, I know it.'
He sank to the ground and put his head in his hands. 'I shouldn't have let her out of my sight, not even for a moment,' he said bitterly. 'I have failed twice.'
'Let the others go on,' Eilonwy said. 'We'll find her and catch up with them.'
Before Taran could answer, he heard a sound that chilled his blood. From the hills came the voices of a hunting pack in full cry and the long notes of a horn.
The companions stood frozen with dread. With the ice of terror in his throat, Taran looked at the silent faces around him. The dire music trembled in the air; a shadow flickered across the lowering sky.
'Where Gwyn the Hunter rides,' murmured Fflewddur, 'death rides close behind.'
Chapter 18
The Flame of Dyrnwyn
NO SOONER HAD THE NOTES of Gwyn's horn sunk into the hills than Taran started, as though waking from a fearful dream. Hoofbeats drummed across the meadow.
'The Homed King's scouts!' cried Fflewddur, pointing to the mounted warriors galloping toward them. 'They've seen us!'
Up from the plains the riders sped, bent over their saddles, urging on their steeds. They drew closer, lances leveled as if each gleaming point sought its own target.
'I could try to make another web,' Eilonwy suggested, then added, 'but I'm afraid the last one wasn't too useful.'
Taran's sword flashed out. 'There are only four of them,' he said. 'We match them in numbers at least.'
'Put up your blade,' Fflewddur said. 'Arrows first. We'll have work enough for swords later.'
They unslung their bows. Under Fflewddur's orders, they formed a line and knelt shoulder to shoulder. The bard's spiky yellow hair blew in the wind; his face shone with excitement. 'I haven't had a good fight in years,' he said. 'That's one of the things I miss, being a bard. They'll see what it means to attack a Fflam!'
Taran nocked an arrow to the string. At a word from the bard, the companions drew their bows and took aim.
'Loose!' shouted Fflewddur.
Taran saw his own shaft fly wide of the leading horseman. With a cry of anger, he seized another arrow from the quiver. Beside him, he heard Gurgi shout triumphantly. Of the volley, only Gurgi's bolt had found its mark. A warrior toppled from his home, the shaft deep in his throat.
'They know we can sting!' Fflewddur cried. 'Loose again!'
The horsemen veered. More cautious now, the warriors raised their bucklers. Of the three, two drove directly for the companions; the third turned his mount's head and galloped to the flank of the defenders.
'Now, friends,' shouted the bard, 'back to back!'
Taran heard Doli grunt as the dwarf loosed an arrow at the nearest warrior. Gurgi's shot had been lucky; now the shafts hissed through the air only to glance off the attackers' light shields. Behind Taran, Melyngar whinnied and pawed the ground frantically. Taran remembered how valiantly she had fought for Gwydion, but she was tethered now and he dared not break away from the defenders to untie her.
The horsemen circled. One turned his exposed side to the companions. Doli's arrow leaped from the bowstring and buried itself in the warrior's neck. The other horsemen spun their mounts and galloped across the meadow.
'We've beaten them!' cried Eilonwy. 'That's like bees driving away eagles!'
The panting Fflewddur shook his head. '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,' cried Taran.
'Go look for her,' growled Doli. 'You'll lose your head as well as your pig.'
'Crafty Gurgi will go,' suggested Gurgi, 'with bold seekings and peekings.'
'In all likelihood,' said the bard, 'they'll attack us again. 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.'
Taran nodded. '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,' said Fflewddur, 'is there any chance at all of warning the Sons of Don before the Horned King attacks? Doli is the only one who can answer that.'
The dwarf scowled and thought for a few moments. 'Possible,' he said, '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?' asked Taran.
'Won't know until you've tried,' grunted Doli.
'The decision is yours,' said the bard, glancing at Taran.
'We shall try,' Taran answered.
For the rest of that day they traveled without a halt. At nightfall, Taran would have been glad to rest, but the dwarf warned against it. The companions pressed on in weary silence. They had escaped the attack Fflewddur expected, but a column of horsemen bearing torches passed within bowshot of them. The companions crouched in the fringe of trees until the streaks of flame wound behind a hill and vanished. In a short time, Doli led the little band into the valley, where they found concealment in the wooded groves.
But the dawn revealed a sight that filled Taran with despair. The valley roiled with warriors wherever he turned his eyes. Black banners whipped against the sky. The host of the Horned King was like the body of an armed giant restlessly stirring.
For a moment, Taran stared in disbelief. He turned his face away. 'Too late,' he murmured. 'Too late. We have failed.'
WHILE THE DWARF surveyed the marching columns, Fflewddur strode forward. '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 nodded. 'Yes. My place is at the side of Gwydion's people. Doli shall lead Gurgi and Eilonwy to safety.' He took a deep breath and buckled his sword belt more tightly. 'You have guided us well,' he said quietly to the dwarf. 'Return to your king with our gratitude. Your work is done.'
The dwarf looked at him furiously. 'Done !' he snorted. '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
