Lloyd Alexander - The Castle of Llyr

"Our task must be finished quickly and before daylight," said Gwydion. "Most of Achren's warriors have been set to guard the landward entry. We shall land on the far side of the castle, hard by the outer wall. In darkness we may escape their eyes."

"Glew told us Caer Colur had broken from the

mainland," said Taran, "but I had not imagined it to be this far at sea."

Gwydion frowned. "Glew? Kaw said nothing to me of Glew."

"It was then that Kaw left us," Taran explained. "Small wonder he could not find us again, for we were deep underground." He told Gwydion finding Eilonwy's bauble, the treachery of Glew, and the strange book. Gwydion, who had been listening intently, shipped the oars and let the boat drift.

"Alas that you did not speak of this sooner. I would have found better means of safeguarding it," he said, as Taran handed him the golden sphere which began to glow brightly. Gwydion spread his cloak and shielded the light. Quickly he took the book from Taran's hands, opened it, and brought the bauble closer to the empty pages. The ancient writing sprang into sight. Gwydion's face was tense and pale.

"To read this is beyond my power," Gwydion said, "but I recognize it for what it is: the greatest treasure of the House of Llyr."

"A treasure of Llyr?" T'aran whispered, "What is its nature? Does it belong to Eilonwy?"

Gwydion nodded. "She is the last Princess of Llyr, and it is hers by blood-right. But there is more you must understand. For generations the daughters of the House of Llyr were among the most skillful enchantresses in Prydain, using their powers with wisdom and kindliness. In their fastness at Caer Colur were stored all their treasures, magical devices and charmed implements whose nature even I do not know.

"The chronicles of the House of Llyr give only veiled hints as to how these mysteries were guarded. The lore tells of an enchantment known only as the Golden Pelydryn, handed down from mother to daughter, and of a book holding all the secrets of those magical devices and many potent spells.

"But Caer Colur was abandoned and fell into ruins after Angharad Daughter of Regat fled the castle to marry against her Mother's wishes. The book of spells, which she carried away with her, was believed lost. Of the Golden Pelydryn, nothing was known." Gwydion looked down at the bauble. "The Golden Pelydryn was not lost. What better way to hide it than to put it as a shining toy in the hands of a child?

"Eilonwy believed she had been sent to live with Achren and study to be an enchantress," Gwydion went on. "It is not true. Achren stole Eilonwy and brought her as a child to Spiral Castle."

"Did Achren fail to recognize the Golden Pelydryn?" Taran asked. "If she knew its nature, why did she leave it in Eilonwy's possession?"

"Achren dared not do otherwise," answered Gwydion. "Yes, she knew Eilonwy's heritage. She recognized the Pelydryn, but also knew it would lose its power if taken forcibly from its rightful owner. Then, too, the book of spells had vanished. Achren could attempt nothing until it was found again."

"And without even realizing it," Taran said, "Glew was the one who gained the book of spells. Poor foolish creature who thought himself cheated!"

"So he was," replied Gwydion. "He could not have seen the hidden writing without the light of the Golden Pelydryn. Even then, it would have availed him nothing. The spells obey only a daughter of the House of Llyr. Eilonwy alone has the inborn skill to read them― though not before she herself has reached the threshold of wodianhood. She stands there now, and the spells of Caer Colur are within her grasp. For that reason has Achren sought her so desperately."

"Eilonwy is safe, then," Taran cried. "If she alone can awaken the spells, Achren dares not harm her. Nor does Achren dare harm us, since the Pelydryn and the book of enchantments are in our hands."

"It may be," Gwydion answered grimly, "that Eilonwy is in greater danger than before."

CAREFULLY GWYDION PLACEDthe book and golden sphere in his jacket and redoubled his efforts at the oars. Taran, clinging to the side of the boat, saw a high, dark mound loom ahead. Gwydion swung the craft farther seaward and now rowed steadily in a wide half-circle. The sea swell lifted the little vessel and drove it with ever-growing speed. The crash of waves rang in Taran's ears. Gwydion bent his strength to one oar, then the other, and Gurgi whimpered plaintively as the boat was flung forward into a narrow, foam-filled channel.

The pinnacles of Caer Colur rose black against a dark sky. Mist rolled around the columns of stone which had been, Taran guessed, proud and lofty towers, but were now crumbled and jutting ruins thrusting upward like the shards of broken swords. As they came closer, he saw the heavy, iron-bound portals, reminders of a day when Caer Colur had been a fortress rooted on the mainland. The gates faced the sea, but, since the castle had sunk lower, they stood half-submerged in the restless water. Waves churned arid beat against them, as though to take the ruins by storm and wreak their last destruction.

Near the massive portals wind and water had gouged a cave-like hollow, and here Gwydion moored the boat and gestured for the companions to disembark. As they clambered to the rocks Taran heard a tormented groaning and creaking from the gates, as though they had gained their own voice and cried out against the onslaught of the waves. Gwydion climbed upward. Finding a handhold among the sharp stones, Rhun painfully toiled after him, with Taran and Gurgi following to catch the Prince of Mona should he fall. Fflewddur struggled along silently.

Kaw had already flown to the walls, and Taran envied the crow his wings as he saw the sheer facing of stone and the broken parapets brooding high above. Gwydion led them along the base of the wall toward the heavy lintels of the gates. The bastion was cleft as though by a sword stroke, and loose rubble had fallen into the breach. The Prince of Don signaled them to halt.

"Remain here," he ordered in a low voice. "I shall go first and learn where Achren's guards are posted." Noiselessly he vanished into the cleft. The companions crouched among the rocks not daring to speak.

Taran rested his head on his arms. His thoughts turned again and again to Eilonwy and to the words of Gwydion; he could barely bring himself to believe the slender, laughing girl could command powers perhaps as strong as those , of Achren. Soon, soon, he told himself, Eilonwy would be free. But as his impatience grew, so did his fear, and he looked up anxiously, straining eyes and ears for a sign of Gwydion.

He was tempted then to follow the Prince of Don, but in another moment Gwydion appeared from the shadows. "Achren pays for a poor vigil," Gwydion said with a hard smile. "One sentinel watches landward, another leans drowsing on his sword. The others sleep."

The companions pressed through the cleft. The task now was to discover Eilonwy's prison, and Taran's heart sank. Within the walls the ruins of Caer Colur stretched like a great skeleton. Its tumble of once regal halls and towers lay before the companions, and Taran glanced with dismay at Gwydion. The tall warrior motioned for the companions to draw their swords and indicated where each of them was to search.

Fflewddur was about to move toward the outlying buildings when Taran nearly cried aloud. Kaw fluttered from one of the towers and swooped down to perch on Taran's upraised arm. The crow beat his wings, flew aloft once more, and circled the pinnacle.

"He's found her!" Taran whispered. "Our search is over!"

"It has only now begun," warned Gwydion. "One of us shall climb up and see if it is possible to free her. The others shall take positions farther along the wall to guard against surprise by Achren's warriors."