Taran froze with horror. In front of him, he saw the snarling face with its crimson brand, the arm uplifted to throw the blade. Suddenly Lluagor was between him and the Huntsman. Adaon rose in the saddle and swept down with his sword. As the Huntsman toppled, the knife flew glittering through the air.
Adaon gasped and dropped his weapon. He slumped over Lluagor's mane, clutching the dagger in his breast.
With a cry of anguish, Taran caught him as he was about to fall.
'Fflewddur! Doli!' Taran shouted. 'To us! Adaon is wounded!'
Chapter 9
The Brooch
FFLEWDDUR'S HORSE REARED as the Huntsmen turned their attack against him. The death of one of their band had roused the enemy to even greater violence and frenzy.
'Take him to safety!' cried the bard. With a mighty leap his steed cleared the bushes and streaked into the forest. The dwarf on his pony followed. With a shout of rage, the remaining Huntsmen pursued them.
Taran seized Lluagor's bridle and, while Adaon clung to the horse's mane, raced toward the edge of the clearing. Eilonwy ran to meet them. Between them, they kept Adaon from falling and tore their way into the undergrowth. Gurgi, leading Melynlas, hurried after them.
They ran blindly, stumbling through brambles and harsh nets of dead vines. The wind had risen, cold and biting as a winter gale, but the forest opened a little, and as the ground dipped, they found themselves in a protected hollow in a glade of alders.
From the back of Lluagor, Adaon raised his head and gestured for them to stop. His face was gray and drawn, his black hair damp on his brow. 'Put me down,' he murmured. 'Leave me. I can go no farther. How do the bard and Doli fare?'
'They have led the Huntsmen away from us,' Taran answered quickly. 'We are safe here for a while. I know Doli can throw them off our trail, and Fflewddur will help him. They'll join us again somehow, I'm sure. Rest now. I'll fetch your medicines from the saddlebags.'
Carefully, they lifted Adaon from his steed and carried him to a hillock. While Eilonwy brought the leather water flask, Taran and Gurgi unharnessed Lluagor and set the saddle under Adaon's head. The wind howled above the trees, but this sheltered spot, by contrast, seemed warm. The driven clouds broke away; the sun turned the branches to gold.
Adaon raised himself. His gray eyes scanned the glade and he nodded briefly. 'Yes, this is a fair place. I shall rest here.'
'We shall heal your wound,' Taran replied, hastily opening a packet of herbs. 'You'll soon be comfortable, and if we must move, we can make a litter from branches and sling it between our horses.'
'I am comfortable enough,' Adaon said. 'The pain has gone and it is pleasant here, as warm as spring.'
At Adaon's words, Taran's heart filled with terror. The quiet glade, the sun on the alders seemed suddenly menacing. 'Adaon!' he cried in alarm. 'This is what you dreamed!'
'It is much like it,' Adaon answered quietly.
'You knew, then!' cried Taran. 'You knew there would be peril for you. Why did you not speak of it before? I would never have sought the Marshes. We could have turned back.'
Adaon smiled. 'It is true. Indeed, that is why I dared not speak. I have yearned to be again at the side of my beloved Arianllyn, and my thoughts are with her now. But had I chosen to return, I would ever wonder whether my choice was made through wisdom or following the wishes of my own heart. I see this is as it must be, and the destiny laid upon me. I am content to die here.'
'You saved my life,' Taran cried. 'You will not lose your own life for me. We shall find our way to Caer Cadarn and Gwydion.'
Adaon shook his head. He put his hand to his throat and undid the iron clasp at the collar of his jacket. 'Take this,' he said. 'Guard it well. It is a small thing, but more valuable than you know.'
'I must refuse,' answered Taran with a smile that ill concealed his anxiety. 'Such would be the gift of a dying man. But you shall live, Adaon.'
'Take it,' Adaon repeated. 'This is not my command to you, but the wish of one friend to another.' He pressed the brooch into Taran's unwilling hand.
Eilonwy had come with water to steep the herbs. Taran took it from her and knelt again beside Adaon.
Adaon's eyes had closed. His face was calm; his hand lay outstretched and open on the ground.
And thus he died.
WHEN THEIR GRIEF ABATED a little, the companions hollowed out a grave, lining it with flat stones. Wrapping him in his cloak, they lowered Adaon into the earth and laid the turf gently over him, while Lluagor whinnied plaintively and pawed the dry ground. Then they raised a mound of boulders. In a sheltered corner of the glade, Eilonwy found handfuls of small flowers still untouched by the frost. These she scattered on the grave, where they fell among the crevices and seemed to spring from the rocks themselves.
They remained there silently until nightfall, without a sign of Fflewddur or Doli. 'We shall wait for them until dawn,' Taran said. 'Beyond that, we dare not stay. I fear we have lost more than one gallant friend.
'Adaon warned that I would grieve,' he murmured to himself. 'And so I do, thrice over.'
Too burdened with sorrow, too weary even to set a guard, they huddled in their cloaks and slept. Like his spirit, Taran's dreams were confused, filled with dismay and fear. In them, he saw the mournful faces of the companions, the calm face of Adaon. He saw Ellidyr seized by a black beast that sank its claws into him and gripped him until Ellidyr cried out in torment.
The restless images gave way to a vast sweep of meadow, where Taran ran through grasses shoulder high, desperately seeking a path he could not find. Overhead, a gray bird fluttered and spread its wings. He followed it and a path opened at his feet.
He saw, too, a turbulent stream with a great boulder in the midst of it. On the boulder lay Fflewddur's harp, which played of itself as the wind stirred the strings.
Taran was running, then, through a trackless marsh. A bear and two wolves set upon him and made to rend him with their fangs. Terrified, he sprang into a dark pool, but the water suddenly turned to dry land. The enraged beasts snarled and leaped after him.
He woke with a start, his heart pounding. The night had barely ended; the first streaks of dawn rose above the glade. Eilonwy stirred; Gurgi whimpered in his sleep. Taran bowed his head and put his face in his hands. The dream lay heavily upon him; he could still see the gaping jaws of a wolf and the sharp, white teeth. He shuddered. He knew he must decide now whether to return to Caer Cadarn or seek the Marshes of Morva.
Taran looked beside him at the sleeping figures of Gurgi and Eilonwy. In little more than a day, the companions had been scattered like leaves, and there remained only this pitifully small band, itself lost and driven. How could they hope to find the cauldron? Taran doubted they would even be able to save their own lives; yet the journey to Caer Cadarn would be as perilous as this quest, perhaps more so. Nevertheless, a choice had to be made.
He rose after a time and saddled the horses. Eilonwy was now awake and Gurgi was poking a tousled, twig- covered head from the folds of his cloak.
'Hurry,' Taran ordered. 'We'd better get an early start before the Huntsmen overtake us.'
'They'll find us soon enough,' Eilonwy said. 'They're probably as thick as burdock between here and Caer Cadarn.'
'We are going to the Marshes,' Taran said, 'not Caer Cadarn.'
'What?' Eilonwy cried. 'Are you still thinking about those wretched swamps? Do you seriously think we can find that cauldron, let alone haul it back from wherever it is?
'On the other hand,' Eilonwy went on, before Taran could answer her, 'I suppose it's the only thing we can do, now that you've got us in the stew. And there's no telling what Ellidyr has in mind. If you hadn't made him jealous over a silly horse…'
