not, I'm going with you.'
Before the words were out of his mouth, an arrow sang past Doli's head. Melyngar reared up. A party of foot soldiers sprang from the woods behind the companions. 'Begone!' the bard shouted to Taran. 'Ride as fast as you can, or it will be death for all of us!'
When Taran hesitated, the bard seized him by the shoulders, pitched him toward the horse, and thrust Eilonwy after him. Fflewddur drew his sword. 'Do as I say!' shouted the bard, his eyes blazing.
Taran leaped to Melyngar's saddle and pulled Eilonwy up behind him. The white horse shot forward. Eilonwy clung to Taran's waist as the steed galloped straight across the bracken, toward the vanguard of the Horned King. Taran made no attempt to guide her; the horse had chosen her own path. Suddenly he was in the midst of the warriors. Melyngar reared and plunged. Taran's sword was out and he struck right and left. A hand clutched at the stirrups, then was ripped away. Taran saw the warrior stumble back and drown in the press of struggling men. The white horse broke free and streaked for the brow of the hill. One mounted figure galloped behind them now. In a terrified glance, Taran saw the sweeping antlers of the Horned King.
The black steed gained on them. Melyngar turned sharply and drove toward the forest. The Horned King turned with her, and as they crashed through the underbrush and past the first rows of trees, the antlered giant drew closer until both steeds galloped side by side. In a final burst of speed, the horse of the Horned King plunged ahead; the animal's flanks bore against Melyngar, who reared furiously and struck out with her hoofs. Taran and Eilonwy were flung from the saddle. The Horned King turned his mount, seeking to trample them.
Taran scrambled to his feet and struck blindly with his sword. Then, gripping Eilonwy's arm, he pulled her deeper into the protection of the trees. The Horned King sprang heavily to the ground and was upon them in a few long strides.
Eilonwy screamed. Taran swung about to face the antlered man. Dark fears clutched Taran, as though the Lord of Annuvin himself had opened an abyss at his feet and he was hurtling downward. He gasped with pain, as though his old wound had opened once again. All the despair he had known as Achren's captive returned to sap his strength.
Behind the bleached skull, the eyes of the Horned King flamed, as he raised a crimson-stained arm.
Blindly, Taran brought up his sword. It trembled in his hand. The Horned King's blade lashed against the weapon and shattered it with a single blow.
Taran dropped the useless shards. The Horned King paused, a growl of savage joy rose in his throat, and he took a firmer grasp on his weapon.
Mortal terror goaded Taran into action. He leaped back and spun toward Eilonwy. 'Dyrnwyn!' he cried. 'Give me the sword!'
Before she could move, he tore belt and weapon from her shoulder. The Horned King saw the black scabbard and hesitated a moment, as if in fear.
Taran grasped the hilt. The blade would not come free. He pulled with all his strength. The sword moved only a little from its sheath. The Horned King raised his own weapon. As Taran gave a final wrench, the scabbard turned in his hand. A blinding flash split the air in front of him. Lightning seared his arm and he was thrown violently to the ground.
The sword Dyrnwyn, blazing white with flame, leaped from his hand, and fell beyond his reach. The Horned King stood over him. With a cry, Eilonwy sprang at the antlered man. Snarling, the giant tossed her aside.
A voice rang out behind the Horned King. Through eyes blurred with pain, Taran glimpsed a tall figure against the trees, and heard a shouted word he could not distinguish.
The Horned King stood motionless, his arm upraised. Lightning played about his sword. The giant flamed like a burning tree. The stag horns turned to crimson streaks, the skull mask ran like molten iron. A roar of pain and rage rose from the Antlered King's throat.
With a cry, Taran flung an arm across his face. The ground rumbled and seemed to open beneath him. Then there was nothing.
Chapter 19
The Secret
SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH the high window of a chamber pleasantly cool and fragrant. Taran blinked and tried to lift himself from the low, narrow couch. His head spun; his arm, swathed in white linen, throbbed painfully. Dry rushes covered the floor; the bright rays turned them yellow as wheat. Beside the couch, a white, sun-dappled shape stirred and rose up.
'Hwoinch!'
Hen Wen, wheezing and chuckling, grinned all over her round face. With a joyful grunt, she began nuzzling Taran's cheek. His mouth opened, but he could not speak. A silvery laugh rang from a comer of the chamber.
'You should really see your expression. You look like a fish that's climbed into a bird's nest by mistake.'
Eilonwy rose from the osier stool. 'I was hoping you'd wake up soon. You can't imagine how boring it is to sit and watch somebody sleep. It's like counting stones in a wall.'
'Where have they taken us? Is this Annuvin?'
Eilonwy laughed again and shook her head.
'That's exactly the sort of question you might expect from an Assistant Pig-Keeper. Annuvin? Ugh! I wouldn't want to be there at all. Why must you always think of unpleasant things? I suppose it's because your wound probably did something to your head. You're looking a lot better now than you did, though you still have that greenish-white color, like a boiled leek.'
'Stop chattering and tell me where we are!' Taran tried to roll from the couch, then sank back weakly and put a hand to his head.
'You aren't supposed to get up yet,' Eilonwy cautioned, 'but I imagine you've just discovered that for yourself.'
Wriggling and grunting loudly, the delighted Hen Wen had begun to climb onto the couch. Eilonwy snapped her fingers. 'Stop that, Hen,' she ordered, 'you know he isn't to be disturbed or upset and especially not sat on.' The girl turned again to Taran. 'We're in Caer Dathyl,' she said. 'It's a lovely place. Much nicer than Spiral Castle.'
Taran started up once more as memories flooded over him. 'The Horned King!' he cried. 'What happened? Where is he?'
'In a barrow, most likely, I should think.'
'Is he dead?'
'Naturally,' answered the girl. 'You don't think he'd stand being put in a barrow if he weren't, do you? There wasn't a great deal left of him, but what there was got buried.' Eilonwy shuddered. 'I think he was the most terrifying person I've ever met, and that includes Achren. He gave me a dreadful tossing about? just before he was going to smite you.' She rubbed her head. 'For the matter of that, you pulled away my sword rather roughly. I told you and told you not to draw it. But you wouldn't listen. That's what burned your arm.'
Taran noticed the black scabbard of Dyrnwyn no longer hung from Eilonwy's shoulder. 'But then what…'
'It's lucky you went unconscious,' Eilonwy continued. 'You missed the worst of it. There was the earthquake, and the Horned King burning until he just, well, broke apart. It wasn't pleasant. The truth of the matter is, I'd rather not talk about it. It still gives me bad dreams, even when I'm not asleep.'
Taran gritted his teeth. 'Eilonwy,' he said at last, 'I want you to tell me very slowly and carefully what happened. If you don't,
'How? can? I? tell? you? anything,' Eilonwy said, deliberately pronouncing every word and making extravagant grimaces as she did so, 'if? you? don't? want? me? to? talk?' She shrugged. 'Well, in any case,' she resumed, at her usual breathless rate, 'as soon as the armies saw the Horned King was dead, they practically fell apart, too. Not the same way, naturally. With them, it was more sort of running away, like a herd of rabbits? no, that isn't right, is it? But it was pitiful to see grown men so frightened. Of course, by that time the Sons of Don had their chance to attack. You should have seen the golden banners. And such handsome warriors.' Eilonwy sighed. 'It was? it was like? I don't even know what it was like.'
