Lloyd Alexander - The High King

"Magg!" he shouted. "Magg the Magnificent! Magg the Death-Lord!"

The Chief Steward's triumphant laughter turned to a shriek as he clawed suddenly at the iron-band circling his forehead. Taran and Fflewddur gasped and drew back.

The crown glowed like red iron in a forge. Writhing in agony, Magg clutched vainly at the burning metal which now had turned white hot, and with a last scream toppled from the throne.

Eilonwy cried out and turned her face away.

GURGI AND GLEW HAD LOST TRACKof the compan­ions and were now pelting through the maze of winding corridors trying vainly to find them. Gurgi was terrified at being in the heart of Annuvin and at every step shouted Taran's name. Only the echoes from the torch-lit halls came back to him. Glew was no less fearful. Between gasps, the former giant also found enough breath to complain bitterly.

"It's too much to bear!" he cried. "Too much! Is there no end to the wretched burdens put upon me? Thrown aboard a ship, hustled off to Caer Dallben, half frozen to death, dragged through mountains at the risk of my life, a fortune snatched from my hands! And now this! Oh, when I was a giant I'd not have stood for such high-handed treatment!"

"Oh, giant, leave off pinings and whinings!" replied Gurgi, miserable enough at being separated from the companions. "Gurgi is lost and lorn, but he tries to find kindly master with seekings. Do not fear," he added reassuringly, though it was all he could do to keep his voice from trembling, "bold Gurgi will keep plaintful little giant safe, oh, yes."

"You're not doing very well at it," snapped Glew. Nevertheless, the pudgy little man clung to the side of the shaggy creature and, his stubby legs pumping, matched him stride for stride.

They had come to the end of one corridor where a squat and heavy iron portal stood open. Gurgi fearfully halted. A bright cold light poured from the chamber. Gurgi took a few cautious paces and peered within. Beyond the doorway stretched what seemed to be an endless tunnel. The light came from heaps of precious stones and golden ornaments. Farther on, he glimpsed strange objects half-hidden by shadows. Gurgi drew back, his eyes popping in wonder and terror.

"Oh, it is treasure house of evil Death-Lord," he whispered. "Oh, glimmerings and shimmerings! This is a very secret place and fearsome, and not wise for bold Gurgi to stay."

Glew, however, pressed forward, and at the sight of the gems his pale cheeks twitched and his eyes glittered. "Treasure, indeed!" he said, choking in his excitement. "I've been cheated of one fortune, but now I'll be repaid. It's mine!" he cried. "All of it! I spoke first! No one shall deprive me of it!"

"No, no," protested Gurgi. "It cannot be yours, greedy giant! It is for mighty Prince to give or take. Come with hastenings and seek companions even faster. Come with tellings and warnings, for Gurgi also fears snappings and trappings. Costly treasures without guardings? No, no, clever Gurgi sniffs evil enchantments."

Heedless of the creature's words, Glew thrust him aside. With an eager cry the former giant sprang past the threshold and into the tunnel, where he plunged his hands into the largest heap of jewels. Gurgi, seizing him by the collar, tried vainly to drag him back, as flames burst from the walls of the treasure-trove.

BEFORE THE GREAT HALL OF ANNUVIN, Gwydion rallied the last survivors of the Sons of Don and the Commot horsemen. There the companions, with Kaw squawking jubilantly overhead, joined them. For a moment, Taran stared searchingly at Gwydion, but his doubts vanished when the tall warrior strode quickly to him and clasped his hand.

"We have much to tell each other," Gwydion said, "but no time for the telling. Though Annuvin is in our hands the Death-Lord himself has escaped us. He must be found and slain, if it is in our power to do so."

"Gurgi and Glew are lost in the Great Hall," Taran said. "Give us leave to find them first."

"Go quickly, then," answered Gwydion. "If the Death-Lord is still in Annuvin, their lives are in as much danger as ours."

Taran had unbuckled Dyrnwyn from, his belt and held out the sword to Gwydion. "I understand now why Arawn sought possession of it― not for his own use but because he knew it threatened his power. Only Dyrnwyn could destroy his Cauldron-Born. Indeed, he dared not even keep it in his stronghold, and believed it harmless buried atop Mount Dragon. When Arawn disguised himself in your shape; he nearly tricked me into giving him the weapon. Take it now. The blade is safer in your hands."

Gwydion shook his head. "You have earned the right to draw it, Assistant Pig-Keeper," he said, "and thus the right to wear it."

"Indeed so!" put in Fflewddur. "It was mag­nificent the way you struck down that Cauldron-Born. A Fflam couldn't have done better. We're rid of those foul brutes forever."

Taran nodded. "Yet I hate them no longer. It was not their wish to bend in slavery to another's will. Now they are at peace."

"In any case, Hen Wen's prophecy came true after all," Fflewddur said. "Not that I ever doubted it for a moment." He glanced instinctively over his shoulder, but this time there came no jangling of harp strings. "But she did have a curious way of put­ting things. I still haven't heard any stones speaking."

"I have," answered Taran. "Atop Mount Dragon, the sound from the crest was like a voice. Without it, I'd have paid no heed to the stone. Then, when I saw how hollowed and eaten away it was, I believed I might be able to move it. Yes, Fflewddur, the voiceless stone spoke clearly."

"I suppose so, if you think about it in that way," Eilonwy agreed. "As for Dyrnwyn's flame being quenched, Hen was quite mistaken. Understandably. She was very upset at the time…"

Before the girl could finish, two frightened fig­ures burst from the Great Hall and raced to the companions. Much of Gurgi's hair had been singed away in ragged patches; his shaggy eyebrows were charred and his garments still smouldered. The former giant had fared worse, for he seemed little more than a heap of grime and ashes.

Taran had no time to welcome the lost com­panions, for the voice of Achren rose in a terrible cry.

"Do you seek Arawn? He is here!"

Achren flung herself at Taran's feet. Taran gasped and froze in horror. Behind him coiled a ser­pent ready to strike.

Taran sprang aside. Dyrnwyn flashed from its scabbard. Achren had clutched the serpent in both hands, as though to strangle or tear it asunder. The head of the snake darted toward her, the scaly body lashed like a whip, and the fangs sank deep into Achren's throat. With a cry she fell back. In an in­stant, the serpent coiled again; its eyes glittered with a cold, deadly flame. Hissing in rage, jaws gaping and fangs bared, the serpent shot forward, striking at Taran. Eilonwy screamed. Taran swung the flashing sword with all his strength. The blade clove the serpent in two.

Flinging Dyrnwyn aside, Taran dropped to his knees beside Gwydion, who held the limp body of the Queen. The blood had drained from Achren's lips and her glazed eyes sought Gwydion's face.

"Have I not kept my oath, Gwydion?" she murmured, smiling vaguely. "Is the Lord of Annuvin slain? It is good. My death comes easily upon me." Achren's lips parted as though she would speak again. but her head fell back and her body sagged in Gwydion's arms.

A horrified gasp came from Eilonwy. Taran looked up as the girl pointed to the cloven serpent. Its body writhed, its shape blurred. In its place appeared the black-cloaked figure of a man whose severed head had rolled face downward on the earth. Yet in a m ment this shape too lost its form and the corpse sank like a shadow into the earth; and where it had lain was seared and fallow, the ground wasted, fissured as though by drought. Arawn Death-Lord had vanished.