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pig is able to look out for herself; wherever she may be, she is in less danger than we are."
Taran nodded. "It is true. But it grieves me to lose her for the second time. I had chosen to abandon my
search and go to Caer Dathyl; then, after Gurgi found Hen Wen, I had hoped to accomplish both tasks.
But I fear it must be one or the other."
"The question is," said Fflewddur, "is there any chance at all of warning the Sons of Don before the
Horned King attacks? Doli is the only one who can answer that."
The dwarf scowled and thought for a few moments. "Possible," he said, "but we'll have to go into the
valley. We'll be in the middle of the Horned King's vanguard if we do."
"Can we get through?" asked Taran.
"Won't know until you've tried," grunted Doli.
"The decision is yours," said the bard, glancing at Taran.
"We shall try," Taran answered.
For the rest of that day they traveled without a halt. At nightfall, Taran would have been glad to rest, but
the dwarf warned against it. The companions pressed on in weary silence. They had escaped the attack
Fflewddur expected, but a column of horsemen bearing torches passed within bowshot of them. The
companions crouched in the fringe of trees until the streaks of flame wound behind a hill and vanished. In
a short time, Doli led the little band into the valley, where they found concealment in the wooded groves.
But the dawn revealed a sight that filled Taran with despair. The valley roiled with warriors wherever he
turned his eyes. Black banners whipped against the sky. The host of the Horned King was like the body
of an armed giant restlessly stirring.
For a moment, Taran stared in disbelief. He turned his face away. "Too late," he murmured. "Too late.
We have failed."
WHILE THE DWARFsurveyed the marching columns, Fflewddur strode forward. "There is one thing
we can do," he cried. "Caer Dathyl lies straight ahead. Let us go on, and make our last stand there."
Taran nodded. "Yes. My place is at the side of Gwydion's people. Doli shall lead Gurgi and Eilonwy to
safety." He took a deep breath and buckled his sword belt more tightly. "You have guided us well," he
said quietly to the dwarf. "Return to your king with our gratitude. Your work is done."
The dwarf looked at him furiously. "Done !" he snorted. "Idiots and numbskulls! It's not that I care what
happens to you, but don't think I'm going to watch you get hacked to pieces. I can't stand a botched job.
Like it or not, I'm going with you."
Before the words were out of his mouth, an arrow sang past Doli's head. Melyngar reared up. A party
of foot soldiers sprang from the woods behind the companions. "Begone!" the bard shouted to Taran.
"Ride as fast as you can, or it will be death for all of us!"
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When Taran hesitated, the bard seized him by the shoulders, pitched him toward the horse, and thrust
Eilonwy after him. Fflewddur drew his sword. "Do as I say!" shouted the bard, his eyes blazing.
Taran leaped to Melyngar's saddle and pulled Eilonwy up behind him. The white horse shot forward.
Eilonwy clung to Taran's waist as the steed galloped straight across the bracken, toward the vanguard of
the Horned King. Taran made no attempt to guide her; the horse had chosen her own path. Suddenly he
was in the midst of the warriors. Melyngar reared and plunged. Taran's sword was out and he struck
right and left. A hand clutched at the stirrups, then was ripped away. Taran saw the warrior stumble back
and drown in the press of struggling men. The white horse broke free and streaked for the brow of the
hill. One mounted figure galloped behind them now. In a terrified glance, Taran saw the sweeping antlers
of the Horned King.
The black steed gained on them. Melyngar turned sharply and drove toward the forest. The Horned
King turned with her, and as they crashed through the underbrush and past the first rows of trees, the
antlered giant drew closer until both steeds galloped side by side. In a final burst of speed, the horse of
the Horned King plunged ahead; the animal's flanks bore against Melyngar, who reared furiously and
struck out with her hoofs. Taran and Eilonwy were flung from the saddle. The Horned King turned his
mount, seeking to trample them.
Taran scrambled to his feet and struck blindly with his sword. Then, gripping Eilonwy's arm, he pulled
her deeper into the protection of the trees. The Horned King sprang heavily to the ground and was upon
them in a few long strides.
Eilonwy screamed. Taran swung about to face the antlered man. Dark fears clutched Taran, as though
the Lord of Annuvin himself had opened an abyss at his feet and he was hurtling downward. He gasped
with pain, as though his old wound had opened once again. All the despair he had known as Achren's
captive returned to sap his strength.
Behind the bleached skull, the eyes of the Horned King flamed, as he raised a crimson-stained arm.
Blindly, Taran brought up his sword. It trembled in his hand. The Horned King's blade lashed against the
weapon and shattered it with a single blow.
Taran dropped the useless shards. The Horned King paused, a growl of savage joy rose in his throat,
and he took a firmer grasp on his weapon.
Mortal terror goaded Taran into action. He leaped back and spun toward Eilonwy. "Dyrnwyn!" he
cried. "Give me the sword!"
Before she could move, he tore belt and weapon from her shoulder. The Horned King saw the black
scabbard and hesitated a moment, as if in fear.
Taran grasped the hilt. The blade would not come free. He pulled with all his strength. The sword moved
only a little from its sheath. The Horned King raised his own weapon. As Taran gave a final wrench, the
scabbard turned in his hand. A blinding flash split the air in front of him. Lightning seared his arm and he
was thrown violently to the ground.
The sword Dyrnwyn, blazing white with flame, leaped from his hand, and fell beyond his reach. The
Horned King stood over him. With a cry, Eilonwy sprang at the antlered man. Snarling, the giant tossed
her aside.
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A voice rang out behind the Horned King. Through eyes blurred with pain, Taran glimpsed a tall figure
against the trees, and heard a shouted word he could not distinguish.
The Horned King stood motionless, his arm upraised. Lightning played about his sword. The giant
flamed like a burning tree. The stag horns turned to crimson streaks, the skull mask ran like molten iron.
A roar of pain and rage rose from the Antlered King's throat.
With a cry, Taran flung an arm across his face. The ground rumbled and seemed to open beneath him.
Then there was nothing.
Chapter 19
The Secret
SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGHthe high window of a chamber pleasantly cool and fragrant.
Taran blinked and tried to lift himself from the low, narrow couch. His head spun; his arm, swathed in
white linen, throbbed painfully. Dry rushes covered the floor; the bright rays turned them yellow as wheat.
Beside the couch, a white, sun-dappled shape stirred and rose up.
"Hwoinch!"
Hen Wen, wheezing and chuckling, grinned all over her round face. With a joyful grunt, she began
nuzzling Taran's cheek. His mouth opened, but he could not speak. A silvery laugh rang from a comer of
the chamber.
"You should really see your expression. You look like a fish that's climbed into a bird's nest by mistake."
Eilonwy rose from the osier stool. "I was hoping you'd wake up soon. You can't imagine how boring it is
to sit and watch somebody sleep. It's like counting stones in a wall."
"Where have they taken us? Is this Annuvin?"
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