Lloyd Alexander - The Castle of Llyr

"Prince Rhun would gainsay you," Gwydion answered. "Without you, he would have wandered lost and in mortal danger."

"I swore an oath to King Rhuddlum," Taran replied. "I did not break it."

"And had you not sworn an oath," Gwydion asked, "would you not have done the same?"

Taran was silent for a while, then he nodded. "Yes, I believe I would. It was more than my oath that bound me. He needed my help, as I needed his." He turned to Gwydion. "I remember, too, when a Prince of Don aided a foolish Assistant Pig-Keeper. Is it not fitting now for the Pig-Keeper to aid a Prince?"

"Whether it be Prince or Pig-Keeper," said Gwydion, "such is the way of a man. The destinies of men are woven one with the other, and you can turn aside from them no more than you can turn aside from your own."

"And you, Lord Gwydion," came Achren's voice, "you have put a cruel destiny upon me."

The black-cloaked figure had risen. Achren clung to the rocks to bear herself up. Her face, half-hooded, was drawn and haggard and her lips were pale. "Death would have been a kindness. Why did you deny it to me?"

Taran shrank back as the once-haughty Queen raised her head. For an instant he saw her eyes flame again with pride and fury.

"You have destroyed me, Gwydion," she cried. "Do you hope to see me grovel at your feet? Are my powers indeed stripped away?" Achren laughed harshly. "One last remains to me."

It was then Taran saw she held a weathered branch of driftwood. She lifted it high and Taran gasped as in her hands it blurred and shimmered. Suddenly in its place was a dagger.

With a shout of triumph Achren plunged it toward her own breast. Gwydion sprang to her and seized her wrists. Achren fought against him as he tore the blade from her grasp. Once more the dagger became driftwood, which Gwydion snapped in two and cast away. Achren fell sobbing to the sand.

"Your enchantments have ever been the enchantments of death," said Gwydion. He knelt and­ gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Seek life, Achren."

"No life remains to me but that of an outcast," cried Achren, turning from him. "Leave me to myself."

Gwydion nodded. "Find your own path, Achren," he said softly. "Should it lead you to Caer Dallben, know this: Dallben will not turn you away."

The sky had grown heavy with clouds; and, though it was little past midday, the high crags rising at the shore seemed purple with dusk. Gurgi had built a fire of driftwood and the companions sat silently near the sleeping Eilonwy. Farther down the beach, Achren, muffled in her cloak, crouched alone and unmoving.

For all that morning, Taran had not left Eilonwy's side. Fearful she might never wake and fearful, too, that she might waken as a stranger to him still, he did not rest from his weary vigil. Gwydion himself could not foretell how long-lasting was the harm that had been done her.

"Do not lose heart," Gwydion said. "It is good that she sleeps and more healing to her spirit than any potion I could give her."

Eilonwy stirred restlessly. Taran started up. Gwydion put a hand on his arm and gently drew him back. Eilonwy's eyelids fluttered. Gwydion, his face grave, watched closely as her eyes opened. and she slowly raised her head.

THE PRINCESS SAT UPand looked curiously at the companions.

"Eilonwy," Taran whispered, "do you know us?"

"Taran of Caer Dallben," said Eilonwy, "only an Assistant Pig-Keeper could ask a question like that. Of course I know you. What I don't know is what I'm doing soaking wet and covered with sand on this beach."

Gwydion smiled. "The Princess Eilonwy has come back to us."

Gurgi shouted with joy and in that instant Taran, Fflewddur, and Prince Rhun began talking all at once. Eilonwy clapped her hands over her ears.

"Stop, stop!" she cried. "You're making my head swim. Listening to you is more confusing than trying to count your fingers and toes at the same time!"

The companions forced themselves to be silent while Gwydion quickly told her all that had happened. When he had finished, Eilonwy shook her head.

"I can see you had a much more interesting time than I had," she said, scratching Llyan's chin as the immense cat purred with pleasure. "Especially since I don't recall much of it.

"Too bad that Magg escaped," Eilonwy went on. "I wish he were here now. I should have a few things to take up with him. That, morning when I was on my way to breakfast, he came looming out of one of the corridors. He told me something very serious had happened and I was to come with him immediately."

"If only we could have warned you," Taran began.

"Warned me?" Eilonwy replied. "Of Magg? I knew straight off, from the very look of him, he was up to something."

Taran stared at her. "And yet you went with him?"

"Naturally," said Eilonwy. "How else was I going to find out? You were so busy sitting in front of my chamber and threatening to have a guard put round me. I knew there was no use trying to get any sense out of you."

"Do not judge him harshly," said Gwydion, smiling. "He thought only to protect you. He was under my orders to do so."

"Yes, I realize that," said Eilonwy, "and I soon began to wish all of you had been with me. By then it was too late. We'd no sooner got clear of the castle than Magg tied me up. And gagged me! That was the worst of it! I couldn't speak a word!

"But it spoiled his own scheme," she went on. "He had indeed waited in the hills until the searching party was far ahead of us. Then he dragged me into the boat. His shins will be black and blue for a while to come, I assure you. But I dropped my bauble. Since I was gagged, I couldn't make him understand I wanted it back.

"But it served him right. Achren was furious when she saw I didn't have it. She blamed Magg, and I'm surprised she didn't have his head off then and there. To me, she was very sweet and thoughtful, so I knew right away something disagreeable was to come.

"After that," Eilonwy continued, "Achren cast a spell over me and I remember very little. Until the bauble was in my hands once more. Then― then it was very strange. In the light of it, I could see all of you. Not with my eyes, really, but in my heart. I knew you wanted me to destroy the spells. And I wanted to as much as you did.

"Yet, it was as though there were two of me. One did and one didn't want to give up the spells. I knew it was my only chance to become an enchantress, and if I gave up my powers then that would be the end of it. I suppose," she said softly to Taran, "I felt a little the way you did long ago in the Marshes of Morva, when you had to decide to give up Adaon's magic brooch.

"The rest of it wasn't pleasant." Eilonwy's voice faltered. "I'd― I'd rather not talk about that." She was silent a moment. "Now I shall never be an enchantress. There's nothing left for me now except being a girl."

"That is more than enough cause for pride," Gwydion said gently. "For all you chose to sacrifice; you have kept Achren from ruling Prydain. We owe more than our lives to you."

"I'm glad the book of spells burned up," Eilonwy said, "but I'm sorry I lost my bauble. By this time it's surely floated far out to sea." She sighed. "There's nothing to be done about that. But I shall miss it."

As she spoke, Taran glimpsed a flickering movement against the dark gray sky. He leaped to his feet. It was Kaw, swooping landward at top speed.

"The last of our strays!" cried Fflewddur.

Llyan's ears pricked up, her long whiskers twitched, but she made no attempt to lunge for the crow. Instead, she rose to her haunches and purred fondly at the sight of her former opponent.

His feathers bedraggled and pointing every which way, Kaw fluttered above Eilonwy. Despite his disreputable appearance, he squawked and snapped his beak with enormous self-satisfaction. "Bauble!" Kaw croaked. "Bauble!"