from the roguish bird when Kaw flapped his wings and sought to fly off again.
'Achren! ' kaw croaked. 'Achren! Queen!'
'You've seen her?' Taran caught his breath. He had given little thought to the once-powerful Queen since her flight from Caer Dallben. 'Where is she?'
The crow fluttered a little distance away, then returned, his beating wings urging Taran to follow him. 'Close! Close! Gwythaints!'
Eilonwy gasped. 'That's what we saw. The gwythaints have slain her!'
'Alive!' Kaw answered. 'Hurt!'
Taran ordered the Commot horsemen to await him, then leaped to the ground to follow after Kaw. Eilonwy, Doli, and Gurgi hastened to join him. Glew refused to budge, remarking that he had already skinned himself on enough rocks and had no intention of going out of his way for anyone.
Fflewddur, hesitated a moment. 'Yes, well, I suppose I shall go along, too, should you need help in carrying her. But it doesn't sit well with me. Achren was eager enough to go her own way, and I rather think we shouldn't meddle. Not that I fear her, not for a moment? ah, the truth of it is,' he hurriedly added, as the harp strings tensed, 'the woman makes me shudder. Since the day she threw me into her dungeon, I've noticed something unfriendly about her. She has no fondness for music, I can tell you. Nevertheless,' he cried, 'a Fflam to the rescue!'
Like a tattered bundle of black rags the still form of Queen Achren lay in the fissure of a massive rock where she had, in her last hope, pressed to escape the gwythaints' vicious beaks and talons. Yet her refuge, Taran saw pityingly, had offered the Queen scant protection. Achren moaned faintly as the companions carefully lifted her from the crevice. Llyan, who had followed along with the bard, crouched silently nearby, and lashed her tail uneasily. Achren's face, drawn and deathly pale, had been badly slashed, and her arms bore many deep and bleeding wounds. Eilonwy held the woman and tried to revive her.
'Llyan shall carry her back with us,' Taran said. 'She will need more healing herbs than I have brought; more than her wounds, a fever has weakened her. She has gone long without food or drink.'
'Her shoes are in ribbons,' Eilonwy said. 'How far must she have wandered in this awful place? Poor Achren! I can't say I'm fond of her, but it makes my toes curl up just imagining what could have happened.'
Fflewddur, after helping move the unconscious Queen to more level ground, had stayed a few paces away. Gurgi, too, chose to keep some distance between Achren and himself. Nevertheless, at Taran's bidding they drew closer and the bard, with many soothing words, held Llyan steady while the other companions lifted Achren to the great cat's back.
'Hurry along,' called the voice of Doli. 'It's starting to snow.'
White flakes had begun drifting from the heavy sky; within little time a biting wind swirled around the companions and snow drove against them in an ever-thickening cloud. Needles of ice stung their faces, it grew more and more difficult to see, and as the storm gained in fury even Doli could no longer be sure of the path. The companions staggered blindly in a file, each clutching the other, with Taran gripping an end of Doli's staff. Kaw, almost entirely covered with snow, hunched up his wings and tried desperately to keep his perch on Taran's shoulder. Llyan, burdened with the motionless Queen, bent her great head against the gale and plodded onward; but the sure-footed cat often stumbled over hidden boulders and snow-filled pits. Once Gurgi yelled in terror and vanished as suddenly as if the earth had swallowed him. He had tumbled into a deep crevice and by the time the companions were able to haul him out, the hapless creature had nearly turned into a shaggy icicle. He trembled so violently he could scarcely walk, and between them, Taran and Fflewddur bore him along.
The wind did not slacken, the snow fell in an impenetrable curtain; and the cold, already bitter, grew even more intense. Breathing was painful and with each labored gasp Taran felt the frigid draft like daggers in his lungs. Eilonwy half-sobbed with cold and exhaustion, and she clung to Taran, striving to keep her footing as Doli led them through drifts that now had risen more than knee-high.
'We can't go on,' the dwarf shouted above the wind. 'Find shelter. Make our way to the horsemen when the snow lets up.'
'But the warriors, how shall they fare?' Taran replied anxiously.
'Better than we!' the dwarf cried. 'Where they are, there's a good-sized cave I noticed along the cliff wall. Your young shepherd is bound to find it, never fear. Our trouble is finding something for ourselves.'
However, even after long and painful searching, the dwarf discovered nothing more than a shallow gully below an overhanging ledge. The companions stumbled gratefully into it; here they were protected against the worst battering of the wind and snow. But the cold still gripped them, and no sooner had they halted than their bodies seemed to stiffen and they moved arms and legs only with the greatest difficulty. They clung together for warmth and pressed against Llyan's thick coat of fur. Even this gave them little comfort for, as night fell, the chill deepened. Taran stripped off his cloak and covered Eilonwy and Achren; Gurgi insisted on adding his sheepskin jacket and he crouched with his shaggy arms wrapped around himself, his teeth chattering loudly.
'I fear that Achren will not live the night,' Taran murmured to Fflewddur. 'She was too close to death when we found her. She will not have strength to stand such cold.'
'Will any of us?' answered the bard. 'Without a fire, we might just as well say farewell to each other right now.'
'I don't know what you're complaining about,' Eilonwy sighed. 'I've never been so comfortable in all my life.'
Taran looked at her in alarm. The girl did not stir under the cloak. Her eyes were half-shut, her voice faltered with drowsiness.
'Quite warm,' she rambled on happily 'What a lovely goosefeather quilt I have. How odd. I dreamed we were all caught in a terrible storm. It wasn't pleasant at all. Or am I still dreaming? No matter. When I wake up, it will all be gone away.'
Taran, his face drawn with anxiety, shook her roughly. 'Don't sleep!' he cried. 'If you sleep it will be your death.'
Eilonwy did not answer him, but only turned' her head away and closed her eyes. Gurgi had curled up beside her and could not be roused. Taran himself felt a fatal drowsiness spreading over him. 'Fire,' he said, 'we must build a fire.'
'From what?' Doli brusquely replied. 'There's not a twig to be found in this wilderness. What will you burn? Our boots? Our cloaks? We'll freeze all the faster.' He flickered back into sight. 'And if I'm going to freeze, I won't do it with hornets buzzing in my ears.'
Fflewddur, who had been silent this while, reached behind him and unslung his harp. At this, Doli gave a furious shout.
'Harp music!' he cried. 'My friend, your wits are frozen solid as ice!'
'It shall give us the tune we need,' replied Fflewddur.
Taran dragged himself to the side of the bard. 'Fflewddur, what do you mean to do?'
The bard did not answer. For a long moment he held the harp lovingly in his hands and gently touched the strings, then with a quick motion raised the beautiful instrument and smashed it across his knee.
Taran cried out in anguish as the wood shattered into splinters and the harp strings tore loose with a discordant burst of sound. Fflewddur let the broken fragments drop from his hands.
'Burn it,' he said. 'It is wood well-seasoned.'
Taran seized the bard by the shoulders. 'What have you done?' he sobbed. 'Gallant, foolish Fflam! You have destroyed your harp for the sake of a moment's warmth. We need a greater fire than this wood can ever give us.'
Doli, however, had quickly taken flint from his pouch and had struck a spark into the pitiful heap of splinters. Instantly, the wood blazed up and sudden warmth poured over the companions. Taran stared amazed at the rising flames. The bits of wood seemed hardly to be consumed, yet the fire burned all the more brightly. Gurgi stirred and raised his head. His teeth had ceased their chattering and color was returning to his frost-pinched face. Eilonwy, too, sat up and looked about her as though waking from a dream. At a glance she understood what fuel the bard had offered, and tears sprang to her eyes
'Don't give it a second thought,' cried Fflewddur. 'The truth of the matter is that I'm delighted to be rid of it. I could never really play the thing, and it was more a burden than anything else. Great Belin, I feel light as a feather without it. Believe me, I was never meant to be a bard in the first place, so all is for the best.'
