Lloyd Alexander - The Castle of Llyr

"He might have fallen from his horse," Taran said. "Even now he might be lying hurt or unconscious."

"Then I suggest we find our way back to the rest of the band," said Fflewddur, "and ask them to help us. In this gloom the more eyes the better."

"We would lose too much time," Taran answered, pressing on through the underbrush. Gurgi followed, whimpering softly to himself. The rising ground told Taran they were moving above the foothills. No sound came but the hiss of saplings that whipped back as he passed and the click of the horses' hooves over pale stones. Taran stopped short, his heart in his mouth. From a corner of his eye he glimpsed a fleeting movement. It lasted but an in­stant, a shadow within a shadow. Fighting down his fear, he groped ahead. The horses had turned more skittish than before, and Taran's mount laid back his ears and voiced a frightened whinny.

Gurgi, too, had sensed the dark presence. The terrified creature's hair rose along his neck and he began to howl pitifully. "Wicked, evil things come to follow harmless Gurgi! Oh, kind master, save Gurgi's poor tender head from hurtful dangers!"

Taran drew his sword and the companions, with many backward glances into the darkness, hur­ried on. This time the horses did not lag, but plunged desperately ahead, nearly dragging the bard with them.

"Great Belin!" protested Fflewddur, who had crashed into a tree and struggled to free his jangling harp from a bush, "hold up, there! Next thing you know, we'll be looking for our own steeds as well as for Prince Rhun!"

With difficulty Taran managed to calm the animals who now refused to budge. Despite all his coaxing, pleading, and tugging, the horses stood stiff-legged and round-eyed, their flanks trembling. Taran, himself exhausted, sank to the ground.

"Our search is blind and useless," he said. "You were right," he went on, turning to Fflewddur. "We should have gone back. The time I had hoped to save is wasted twice over, and Eilonwy's danger is greater with every moment we delay. Now Prince Rhun is lost― and so is Kaw, for all we know."

"I'm afraid you're right," sighed Fflewddur. "And unless you or Gurgi knows where we are, I rather suspect we're lost, too."

AT THESE WORDS GURGIset up a wail and rocked back and forth, clutching his head. Taran swallowed his own despair as best he could and tried to reassure the frightened creature.

"We can do nothing now but wait for dawn," Taran said. "The Master of Horse cannot be too far away. Find him as soon as you can. Above all, do not delay the search for Eilonwy. I shall seek Prince Rhun," he added bitterly. "I have given my oath to keep him from harm and I cannot do otherwise. But when I find him, I'll rejoin you somehow."

He was silent then, his head bowed. Fflewddur was watching him. "Do not wear out your heart with grief," the bard said quietly. "Magg can't escape us for long. I don't believe he means to harm Eilonwy but only bring her to Achren. And we shall catch him long before he can do that. Rest now. Gurgi and I will share the watch."

Too weary to protest, Taran stretched out on the ground and covered himself with his cloak. No sooner did his eyes close than fears of Achren came to torment him. In rage and vengeance the haughty Queen would slay any of the companions who fell into her hands. And Eilonwy? He dared not let himself imagine her in Achren's grasp. When at last he dropped into fitful slumber it was as though he slept beneath a millstone.

The sun had barely risen when he opened his eyes with a start. Fflewddur was shaking him. The bard's yellow hair stood out raggedly in all directions, his face was pale with fatigue, but he grinned broadly.

"Good news!" he cried. "Gurgi and I have done some seekings and peekings of our own. We're not as badly lost as you might think. The truth of it is we've been thrashing around in a circle. Look for yourself."

Taran sprang to his feet and followed the bard to a low ridge. "You're right. There's the alder grove. It must be! And there― I remember the fallen tree where I lost sight of Rhun. Come," he added, "we shall ride that far together. Then you must go ahead and catch up with the rest of the band."

Hastily the companions mounted and urged their steeds toward the grove. Before they reached it, Taran's horse drew up sharply, then bore suddenly to the left. A loud whinny rose from the cover of trees along the shoulder of a hill. In astonishment, Taran slackened the reins and let the horse canter freely toward the sound. In another few moments he glimpsed a pale shape beyond the foliage. As the steed carried him closer, he recognized Rhun's piebald mare.

"See there!" he called to Fflewddur. "Rhun can't be far. We must have gone by him during the night."

Reining up, he leaped from the saddle. His heart sank. The horse stood riderless. At the sight of the other steeds, she raised her head, shook her mane, and whickered anxiously.

Fearing the worst, Taran hurried past the mare while Fflewddur and Gurgi dismounted and raced after him. He stopped short. Before him, in a clearing, stood something that looked at first like a huge straw beehive. Fflewddur by then had come up beside him. Taran raised a hand in warning and moved cautiously toward the strange hut.

The conical thatched roof, he now saw, had fallen away in many places. Rough stones, piled one on top of the other, formed a low side wall, a corner of which had collapsed into a heap of rubble. There were no windows, and the single, heavy door hung askew from sagging leather hinges. He stepped closer. The holes in the thatch stared at him like empty eyes.

Fflewddur glanced about him. "I'm not too fond of going up and rapping on the door," he whispered, "and asking whoever's inside whether they've happened to see the Prince of Mona. Somehow, it seems the kind of place even Rhun would rather avoid. But I suppose there's no other way to find out."

Just then the door was flung open from the inside. Gurgi, with a yell, sought safety by scrambling up a tree. Taran's hand went to his sword.

"Hullo, hullo!" Prince Rhun, beaming, stood in the doorway. Aside from looking a little sleepy, he appeared quite himself and altogether unharmed. "I hope you've got some breakfast with you," he added, rubbing his hands eagerly. "I'm nearly starved to death. Have you ever noticed how the fresh air sharpens one's appetite? Most surprising!

"Come in, come in," Rhun went on, while Taran stared speechless at him. "You'd be amazed how comfortable it is. Surprisingly snug and cozy. Where did the rest of you pass the night? I hope you slept as well as I did. You can't imagine…"

Taran could control himself no longer. "What have you done?" he burst out. "Why did you leave the searching party? Count yourself lucky that getting lost was the worst that happened to you!"

Prince Rhun blinked and looked puzzled. "Leave the searching party?" he asked. "Why, I didn't actually leave it. Not on purpose, you understand. It happened when I fell off my horse and had to go chasing after her all over nowhere, until I found her near this hut. By then it was getting dark, so I went to sleep. That's only common sense, wouldn't you say? I mean, why sleep outdoors when you can put a roof over your head?

"As far as being lost goes," Rhurt went on, "it seems to me you're the ones who got lost. Wherever I go, that's where the search is, if you see what I, mean. After all, the one who's in command…"

"Yes, you command," Taran flung back an­grily, "as you were born to, as a king's son." He stopped abruptly. Another instant and he would have cried aloud his promise to King Rhuddlum,, and his oath to protect this witless Prince. Taran clenched his teeth. "Prince Rhun," he said coldly, "you need not remind us we are under your orders. But for your own safety, I urge you to stay close to us."