It was as though an evil mist had seeped from the stronghold of Annuvin, stifling all living things and leaving only this rocky waste.
The companions spoke little, husbanding their strength. From the first day within the borders of the Land of Death, they had been obliged to dismount and go on foot, leading the weary horses through the treacherous passes. Even the stallion Melynlas showed signs of fatigue; the steed's powerful neck drooped and his gait sometimes faltered. Llyan, however, padded skillfully along the narrowest and most dangerous of ledges. Often, while the companions labored down one sharp descent to clamber up an even sharper slope, the enormous cat leaped from one crag to the next, and they would come upon her sitting with her tail coiled about her haunches, waiting for Fflewddur to scratch her ears, after which she would bound off once more.
Doli, firmly gripping his staff, his white hood pulled well down over his face, trudged at the head of the little band. Taran had never ceased to wonder at the tireless dwarf who found, as though by secret sense, hidden footpaths and narrow ways that helped speed the harsh journey.
Yet, after a time, Doli's pace seemed to flag. Taran saw with growing concern and uneasiness that from time to time the dwarf would lose his footing and his step turn suddenly unsure. When Doli staggered and dropped to one knee, Taran ran to his side, alarmed, and tried to lift up the dwarf. The companions hurried to join him.
Doli's usually ruddy face had grown mottled and he breathed only in painful gasps. He struggled to regain his feet.
'Curse this evil realm,' he muttered. 'Can't stand it as well as I thought. Don't gawk! Give me a hand up.'
Stubbornly, the dwarf refused to mount one of the horses, insisting he felt better when his feet were on the ground. When Taran urged him to rest, Doli angrily shook his head. 'I said I'd find a passage for you,' he snapped. 'And I mean to. Can't stand a botched job. When the Fair Folk set about a task, they do it right, and don't dawdle over it.'
Nevertheless, after a short while Doli reluctantly consented to climb astride Melynlas. He fumbled with the stirrups but grumbled irritably when Fflewddur helped him into the saddle.
Even this relief was not long lasting. The dwarf's head soon dropped weakly forward, he swayed unsteadily and, before Taran could reach him, lurched from the stallion's back and pitched to the ground.
Taran quickly signaled a halt. 'We'll go no further today,' he told the dwarf. 'By morning you'll have your strength again.'
Doli shook his head. His face was white, his crimson eyes had turned dull; 'No use waiting,' he gasped. 'I've been too long here. It will grow worse. Must keep on while I can still guide you.'
'Not at the cost of your life,' Taran said. 'Hevydd the Smith will ride with you to the border. Llassar Son of Drudwas will help the rest of us find our way.'
'Won't do,' muttered the dwarf. 'Take too long without Fair Folk skill. Tie me to the saddle,' he commanded.
He strove to raise himself from the ground, but fell back and lay motionless. His breathing grew rasping and violent.
Taran cried out in alarm, 'He's dying. Hurry, Fflewddur. Help me put him on Llyan. She is the swiftest mount. Ride back with him. There may still be time.'
'Leave me here,' Doli gasped. 'You can't spare Fflewddur. His sword is worth ten. Or six, at least. Go quickly.'
'That I will not do,' replied Taran.
'Fool!' choked the dwarf. 'Heed me!' he commanded. 'It must be done. Are you a war leader or an Assistant Pig-Keeper?'
Taran knelt by the dwarf, whose eyes were half-closed, and gently put a hand on Doli's shoulder. 'Need you ask, old friend? I'm an Assistant Pig-Keeper.'
Taran rose to meet the bard, who had hastened up with Llyan, but when he turned back to the dwarf, the ground was empty. Doli had vanished.
'Where has he gone?' shouted Fflewddur.
An irritable voice came from somewhere near a boulder. 'Here! Where else do you think?'
'Doli!' cried Taran. 'You were close to your death, and now…'
'I've turned invisible, as any clodpole with half an ounce of sense can plainly see,' snorted Doli. 'Should have thought of it before. Last time in Annuvin, I was invisible most of the way. Never realized how it protected me.'
'Can it serve you now?' asked Taran, still a little bewildered. 'Dare you keep on?'
'Of course,' the dwarf retorted. 'I'm better already. But I'll have to stay invisible. As long as I can stand it, that is! Invisible! Hornets and wasps in my ears!'
'Good old Doli!' Taran cried, seeking vainly to pump the dwarf's unseen hand.
'Not that again!' snapped the dwarf. 'I'd not do this willingly? oh, my ears? for any mortal in Prydain? oh, my head? but you! And don't shout! My ears won't stand it!'
Doli's staff, which had dropped to the ground, seemed to rise of itself, as the invisible dwarf picked it up. From the motion of the staff Taran could see that Doli had once more begun trudging ahead.
Guiding themselves by the length of wood, the companions followed. Yet even without sight of the staff they could have found their way, led by the sound of loud and furious grumbling.
Fflewddur was first to sight the gwythaints. In the distance, above a shallow ravine three black-winged shapes soared and circled. 'What have they found?' the bard cried. 'Whatever it is, I hope we're not the ones to be found next!'
Taran sounded his horn and signaled the war band to find whatever protection they could among the huge boulders. Eilonwy, disregarding Taran's orders, scrambled to the top of a high, jutting stone and shaded her eyes.
'I can't tell for sure,' Eilonwy said, 'but it looks to me as though they've cornered something. Poor creature. It will not last long against them.'
Gurgi crouched fearfully against a rock and tried to make himself as flat as a fish. 'Nor will Gurgi, if they see him,' he wailed. 'They will seize his poor tender head with gashings and slashings!'
'Pass on! Pass on!' Glew shouted, his little face puckered in fright. 'They're busy with their prey. Don't stop here like fools. Get as far away as we can. Oh, if I were a giant again, you'd not find me lingering!'
The gwythaints narrowed their circle and had begun to swoop downward, seeking their kill. But suddenly what appeared to be a black cloud, with a dark shape leading it, streaked down from the eastern quarter of the sky. Before the surprised companions could follow its swift movement overhead, the cloud shattered as if at its leader's command into winged fragments that drove straight upon the huge birds. Even at this distance Taran could hear the furious screams of the gwythaints as they veered aloft to face these strange assailants.
Fflewddur had leaped up beside Eilonwy and, as Taran and Doli clambered to a vantage point, the bard shouted excitedly: 'Crows! Great Belin, I've never seen so many!'
Like great black hornets, the crows swarmed over their enemy; it was not a single combat of bird against bird, but a battle in which whole troops of crows grappled and clung to the gwythaints' lashing wings, heedless of sharp beaks and talons, forcing the creatures earthward. When, by sheer strength, the gwythaints shook off their attackers, a new troop would form and renew the charge. The gwythaints sought to break free of their burden by plunging downward, scraping as closely as they dared against the sharp stones. But as they did, the crows pecked furiously at them and the gwythaints spun and fluttered dizzily, losing their course and falling once again victim to the relentless onslaught.
In a last burst of power, the gwythaints beat their way aloft; they turned and sped desperately northward, with the crows in hot pursuit. They vanished over the horizon, all save a solitary crow that flew swiftly toward the companions.
'Kaw!' Taran shouted and held out his arms.
Jabbering at the top of his voice, the crow swooped down. His eyes glittered in triumph and he flapped his shiny wings more proudly than a rooster. He gabbled, croaked, squawked, and poured forth such a torrent of yammering that Gurgi clapped his hands over his ears.
From his perch on Taran's wrist, Kaw bobbed his head and clacked his beak, thoroughly delighted with himself and never for a moment ceasing his chatter.
Taran, trying vainly to interrupt the crow's raucous and boastful clamor, had despaired of learning any tidings
