The High King

and snatched something from the ground. In the flare of his torch, Taran saw the former giant held a glittering gem as big as a fist.

Fflewddur had seen it, too, and he sternly or­dered, 'Put that down, little man. This is a Fair Folk trove, not that bat-ridden cave of yours.'

Glew clutched his find to his chest. 'It's mine!' he squealed. 'None of you saw it. If you had, you'd have kept it for yourselves.'

Doli, who had glanced at the gem, snorted scornfully. 'It's rubbish,' the dwarf said to Taran. 'No Fair Folk craftsman would waste his time on it. We use better quality than that to mend a roadbed. If your mushroom-faced friend wants to burden himself, he's more than welcome.'

Without waiting to be told twice, Glew hastily thrust the gem into the leather pouch dangling at his side, and his flabby features took on an expression Taran had seen only when the former giant was in the midst of a meal.

From then on, as the companions progressed steadily through the mine, Glew's beady eyes darted everywhere and he strode forward with unwonted energy and interest. The former giant was not disappointed, for soon the torchlight glinted on other gems half-buried in the ground or protruding from walls. Glew fell upon them instantly, scrabbling away with his pudgy fingers and popping the glittering crystals into his sack. With each new find he grew more excited, giggling and mumbling to himself.

The bard looked pityingly at him. 'Well,' he sighed, 'the little weasel has at last sniffed out something to profit himself. Much good it may do him once we're above ground again. A handful of rocks! The only use I can see is if he throws them at the Cauldron-Born.'

But Glew, absorbed in gathering as many gems as quickly as he could, paid no heed to Fflewddur's remarks. In little time the former giant's pouch was crammed with jewels of bright red and brilliant green, with gems clear as water or, in their glittering depths, flecked with gold and silver.

Taran's thoughts were not on the abandoned riches of the mine, although the jewels seemed to grow more plentiful as the long column of warriors made their way farther into the tunnel. As far as Taran could judge, it was no later than midday, and already the companions had journeyed a considerable distance. And, as the tunnel widened and the path straightened, their pace gained even more speed.

'Easy as whistling,' declared Doli. 'Another day and a half at most and we'll come above ground at the Fallows.'

'It's our only hope,' Taran said, 'and, thanks to you, the best hope we've had. But the Fallows trouble me. If the land is barren we'll have little protection for ourselves, and little means to hinder the Cauldron-Born.'

'Humph!' cried Doli. 'As I told you, you're dealing with Fair Folk now, my lad. When we set to a task there's nothing paltry or small about it. You'll see. Something will come to hand.'

'Speaking of paltry and small,' interrupted Fflewddur, 'where is Glew?'

Taran halted and quickly looked around. At first he saw nothing of the former giant. He lifted his torch and called Glew's name. A moment later he caught sight of him and ran forward in alarm.

Glew, in his search for treasure, had clambered up to one of the wooden platforms. Just above the arch leading to the next chamber a sparkling gem as big as his own head was embedded amid the rocks; Glew, having swung precariously to a narrow ledge, was trying with all his might to dislodge it.

Taran cried out to him to come down, but Glew tugged and heaved all the harder. Dropping the reins of Melynlas, Taran was about to swing up after him, but Doli seized his arm.

'Don't do it!' snapped the dwarf. 'The beams won't hold you.' He whistled through his teeth and signaled two of the Fair Folk warriors to climb to the platform which, under Glew's furious struggle with the gem, had begun to sway dangerously. 'Hurry!' Doli shouted. 'Bring that idiot down here!'

Just then Glew's pouch, already filled to bursting, tore apart. The gems streamed down in a glitter­ing shower and Glew, with a yell of dismay, spun around to clutch at them. His foothold slipped, he clawed frantically at the platform and as he did so the arch gave way beneath him. Now shrieking not for his lost jewels but for his life, Glew flailed wildly and caught one of the swaying timbers. With a crash he toppled to earth. Behind him the archway lurched, the ceiling rumbled. Glew picked himself up and scuttled madly from the hail of falling stones.

'Back!' Doli shouted. 'Back! All of you!'

The horses reared and whinnied as the warriors strove to turn them. With an earsplitting crack, the upper platforms collapsed, an avalanche of boulders and broken beams thundered into the gallery. Blinding, choking dust filled the tunnel, the mine seemed to shudder all along its length, then settle into deathly silence.

Shouting for Doli and Fflewddur, Taran stumbled to the heap of wreckage. None of the warriors or animals had been caught in it; behind them, the tunnel had held firm and kept them safe. But the way forward was hopelessly blocked.

Doli had scrambled onto the heap of stones and wood and was tugging at the end of a long beam But after a moment he stopped, breathless, and turned a despairing face to Taran. 'It's no good,' he gasped. 'If you want to keep on we'll have to dig our way through.'

'How long?' Taran asked urgently. 'How much time dare we lose?'

Doli shook his head. 'Hard to say. Even with Fair Folk it will be a long task. Days, very likely. Who knows how far the damage has gone?' He snorted angrily. 'You can thank that half-witted, undersized, two-legged toadstool of a giant for it!'

Taran's heart sank. 'What then?' he asked. 'Must we retrace our steps?' From the expression on Doli's grimy face, he feared what the dwarf's answer would be.

Doli nodded curtly. 'We're badly delayed, no matter what. But if you want my advice, I say turn around and go back. Make our way to the Fallows above ground as best we can. The whole mine is weakened now; there'll be more cave-ins, or I'll miss my guess. Next time we may not be so lucky.'

'Lucky!' moaned the bard, who had slumped down on a rock. He put his head in his hands. 'Days wasted! The Cauldron-Born will be in Annuvin be­fore we have another chance at them. The only luck that would suit me now would be to see that greedy weasel under a pile of his own worthless gems!'

Glew, meanwhile, had ventured to crawl from under one of the remaining platforms. His garments were torn, his pudgy face smeared with dust.

'Days wasted?' he wailed. 'Cauldron-Born? Blocked up tunnels? But has any one of you stopped to consider I've just lost a fortune? My gems are gone, all of them, and you don't give it a second thought. I call that selfish. Selfish! There's no other word for it.'

Chapter 14 Daylight

THE PRINCESS EILONWY was doubly angry. First, she was lost; second, she was a prisoner. Swept away from Taran and Fflewddur during the attack, she would surely have fallen among the slain had not Gurgi dragged her from the fray. When the assault had shifted beyond them, she had stumbled blindly, with Gurgi at her side, over the darkening crags. At nightfall, when they could search no longer for Taran, Gurgi had found a shallow cave where they crouched and shivered until first light. During the next day, as the two companions sought Taran's trail, the marauders had suddenly leaped upon them.

Biting, kicking, and scratching, Eilonwy struggled vainly to free herself from the burly man who had seized her. Another had flung Gurgi to the ground and, with dagger drawn, set his knee in the small of the hapless creature's back. In a trice the two companions were bound hand and foot and hoisted like mealsacks on their assailants' shoulders. Eilonwy had no idea of the direction in which she was being carried, but in a little while she glimpsed a campfire flickering through the gathering dusk and hunched around it a ruffianly band of a dozen or more.

The man squatting nearest the fire looked up. Garbed in dirty sheepskins and a rough cloak, he was heavy- faced and stubble-bearded, his long hair yellowish and tangled.

'I sent you for game, not prisoners,' he called out hoarsely. 'What have you found?'

'Lean pickings,' answered Eilonwy's captor, dropping his furious burden to the turf beside Gurgi. 'A brace of churls, for what they may be worth.'

'Nothing, very likely.' The heavy-faced man spat in the fire. 'You should have slit their gullets and spared