of a friend and the command of a war leader. "You are swords added to my
hands," Gwydion went on. "Do not let yourselves be shattered. Move quickly,
stay not over long in one fray, but start many." He took Taran's hand and
Coll's and Gurgi's. "Farewell," Gwydion said almost brusquely, then spun
Melyngar about and rode siftly to his warriors.
Taran watched him until he had disappeared, then turned toward the
distant towers of Caer Dathyl. Eilonwy, along with Glew, had been commanded to
remain in the fortress under the High King's protection. Taran strained his
eyes in the vain hope of glimpsing her on the walls. What she might feel for
him he was no more sure than he had been at Caer Dallben; but, despite his
resolve, he was on the verge of speaking his own heart fully. Then, suddenly,
like a man swept away in a flood, he had been caught up in the rallying of
warriors, without even a moment to say his farewell. Yearning pierced him, and
regret for his unspoken words was an iron hand gripping his throat.
He started and clenched the reins as Melynlas, snorting a white
cloud, began to paw the ground. At a glance he saw Pryderi's host had risen
and was surging into the valley. The battle was upon him.
Page 89
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
It came quickly, not as the slow-cresting wave Taran had expected.
First was a swelling sea of shouting men. The Sons of Don were not awaiting
Pryderi's charge but were racing ahead to grapple with the attacking foe. He
saw Gwydion on the rearing white shape of Melyngar. But Taran could not tell
the instant of the first clash of arms; for in a moment, instead of two tides
there was only one that spun and shifted in a great convulsion, a whirlpool of
spears and swords.
Taran sounded his horn and, as an answering shout came from Llassar,
clapped heels into the flanks of Melynlas. Coll and the Commot horsemen
spurred their mounts after him. From a swift canter the powerful legs of
Melynlas stretched to a gallop. The stallion's muscles heaved beneath him and
Taran, sword raised, plunged into the sea of men. His head spun and he gasped
as if drowning. He realized he was terrified.
Around him swirled the faces of friends and foes. He glimpsed Llonio
flailing right and left. The man's makeshift helmet bobbed over his eyes, his
long legs were drawn up high in the stirrups, and he looked like nothing so
much as a scarecrow come to life; yet, where Llonio passed, attackers fell as
wheat to a scythe. Hevydd's burly frame rose like a wall in the midst of the
combat. Of Llassar there was no sign, but Taran thought he could hear the
young shepherd's high-pitched battle cry. Then a furious roaring reached his
ears and he knew Llyan, with Fflewddur, had entered the fray. In another
moment, aware of nothing beyond the blade in his hand, Taran was locked in a
blind madness with warriors who thrust at him and whose blows he strove to
return.
Again and again Taran and the Commot horsemen slashed deep into the
attackers' flanks, then wheeled to gallop free of the iron whirlpool, only to
plunge back again. In a flash of clarity Taran saw glittering gold and
crimson. It was King Pryderi on a black charger. Taran struggled to engage
him. For an instant their eyes met, but the Son of Pwyll made no attempt to
answer the challenge of a ragged horseman. Instead, he looked away and
continued to press ahead. Then he was gone. And it was Pryderi's scornful
glance that stung Taran more sharply than the blade which swung up from the
mass of foemen to lash across his face.
Once, the swell of the armed tide flung Taran to the fringes of the
battle. He caught sight of Gurgi's banner and tried to rally the horsemen
around it. A trough had opened up amid Pryderi's ranks. In another moment a
horse pounded toward him: Lluagor. A warrior armed with a long lance clung to
the steed's back.
"Go back!" Taran shouted at the top of his voice. "Have you lost
your wits?"
Eilonwy, for it was she, half-halted. She had tucked her plaited
hair under a leather helmet. The Princess of Llyr smiled cheerfully at him. "I
Page 90
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
understand you're upset," she shouted back, "but that's no cause to be rude."
She galloped on.
For a time, Taran could not believe he had really seen her.
Moments later, he was struggling against a band of warriors who
slashed at Melynlas, threw themselves against the stallion's flanks, and
strove to bear down horse and rider. Taran was vaguely aware of someone
seizing his mount's bridle and dragging him to the side. Pryderi's warriors
fell away. Free of the press, he turned in the saddle and blindly flung up his
sword against the new attacker.
It was Coll. The stout. farmer had lost his helmet. His bald crown
was as scratched as if he had plunged headlong into briars. "Save your sword
for your foes, not your friends!" he cried.
Taran's surprise left him speechless an instant, before he stammered,
"You saved my life, Son of Collfrewr."
"Why, so perhaps I , did," replied Coll, as though the idea had
suddenly come to him.
They looked at each other and burst out laughing like a pair of
fools.
Only toward sundown, when the sky itself seemed streaked with blood,
did Taran gain a new sense of the battle. Gwydion's warriors, flung across the
path of Pryderi's advance, had met the full fury of their attackers. The hosts
of Pryderi had faltered, as though stumbling over their own dead. The wave had
crested and hung poised. Now a fresh wind surged over the valley. Taran's
heart leaped as shouts of renewed strength rang from the warriors of Don. They
pressed onward, driving all before them. Taran sounded his horn and with the
Commot horsemen galloped to join the sweeping tide.
The ranks of the enemy parted like a shattered wall. Taran clutched
at his reins, Melynlas reared and whinnied in alarm. A shudder of horror
racked the valley. Taran saw and understood why, even before the rising
current of outcries reached his ears.
"The Cauldron-Born! The deathless warriors!"
Page 91
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The men of Pryderi fell back to let them pass, as if in fearful [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]