The High King

"The sea must aid our venture," Gwydion continued, "for Pryderi can too easily forbid our army's journey overland." He turned to Taran. "Math Son of Mathonwy spoke to you of the ships that bore the Sons of Don from the Summer Country. These vessels were not abandoned. Still seaworthy, they have ever been held ready against a day of need. A faithful folk guard them in a hidden harbor near the mouth of the river Kynvael. They will carry us to the western shore of Prydain, close to the bastions of Annuvin itself.

"Two men alone have knowledge of the harbor," Gwydion added. "One was Math Son of Mathonwy. The other is myself. I have no choice but to lead the seaward march. As for the other journey," he said to Taran, "will you accept to lead it?"

Taran raised his head. "I serve as you command."

"I do not command this," replied Gwydion. "I order no man to such a task against his will. And all who follow you must do so willingly."

"Then it is my will to do so," Taran answered.

The companions murmured their assent.

"The vessels of the Sons of Don are swift," Gwydion said. "I ask you to delay the Cauldron-Born but a little while. Yet all hangs on that little."

"If I fail," Taran said, "how shall I send word to you? Should the Cauldron warriors reach Annuvin ahead of you, your plan cannot succeed and you must turn back."

Gwydion shook his head. "There can be no turning back, for there is no further hope. Should either of us fail, all our lives are forfeit."

LLASSAR, HEVYDD, AND ALL the other Commot folk chose to follow Taran. With them were joined the surviving warriors of Fflewddur Fflam, and together they made the greater portion of Taran's band. To the surprise of the companions, Glew chose to ride with them.

The former giant had recovered from his fright, at least enough to regain much of his customary peevishness. He had, however, regained all of his appetite and demanded food in great quantity from Gurgi's wallet of provisions.

"I've had my fill of being dragged here and there by the scruff of the neck," said Glew, licking his fingers, "and now I'm either to be put on a ship or cast among a herd of horses. Very well, I shall take the latter, for at least it's not so wet and salty. But I assure you I would have agreed to neither, when I was a giant.

Fflewddur glowered at the former giant and spoke apart with Taran. "It seems we're doomed, on top of all our other woes, to put up with that whining weasel at every step. And I can't help feeling that in the back of that puny little mind he's hoping somehow to feather his own nest." The bard shook his head and gave Taran a sorrowful look. "But are any nests left to feather? There's not a safe place even for Glew to hide his head."

Gurgi had tied the banner of the White Pig to a new staff, but he sighed mournfully at the tattered emblem. "Poor piggy!" he cried. "None can see her now, for she is torn into threadings and shreddings!"

"I promise to sew another," Eilonwy said. "As soon as…" She stopped abruptly and said no more, as she climbed astride Lluagor. Taran saw her troubled glance. The Princess of Llyr would wait long, he feared, before her hands worked with an embroidery needle. And, unspoken but in his heart was the dread that none of them might see Caer Dallben again. At the end of their grim race, death might be the only prize.

Armed with spears and swords, the warriors were mounted and ready. With a last farewell to Gwydion, the companions rode westward from the hills.

IT WAS COLL'S JUDGMENT that the Cauldron-Born would march directly to Annuvin, following the straightest and shortest path. At the head of the column winding its way ,from the snowswept heights, Llassar rode beside Taran. The skill of the young shepherd eased their passage, and he guided them swiftly toward the lowlands, unseen by Pryderi's army which had begun to withdraw from the valley around Caer Dathyl.

For some days they journeyed, and Taran began to fear the retreating Cauldron-Born had outdistanced them. Nevertheless, they could do no more than press on as quickly as possible, southward now, passing through long stretches of sparse woodland.

It was Gurgi who first sighted the deathless warriors. The creature's face went gray with fright as he pointed to an expanse of rock-strewn plain. Glew blinked, choked, and could barely swallow the food he was munching. Eilonwy watched silently, and the bard gave a low whistle of dismay.

Taran's heart sank at the sight of the column moving like a long serpent over the flatlands. He turned questioningly to Coll. "Can we hold them off at all?"

"A pebble can turn aside an avalanche," said Coll, "or a twig stem a flood."

"I daresay," muttered Fflewddur. "What hap­pens to the twig or pebble afterward I should rather not think about."