Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander

Author:Lloyd Alexander [Alexander, Lloyd]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fantasy, Young Adult, Childrens
ISBN: 9780006173717
Publisher: Fontana
Published: 1985-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

It had become a blind race into darkness, under a moon drowned in heavy clouds. Invisible branches grasped at them or slashed their faces. Eilonwy stumbled once, and Taran pulled her to her feet. The girl faltered again; her head drooped. Taran unstrapped the weapons on Melyngar’s saddle, shared out the burden with Fflewddur and Gurgi, and hoisted the protesting Eilonwy to Melyngar’s back. She slumped forward, her cheek pressed against the horse’s golden mane.

All night they struggled through the forest, which grew denser the closer they approached the Ystrad valley. By the time the first hesitating light of day appeared, even Gurgi had begun to stumble with fatigue and could barely put one hairy foot in front of the other. Eilonwy had fallen into a slumber so deep that Taran feared she was ill. Her hair lay bedraggled and damp upon her forehead; her face was pallid. With the bard’s help, Taran lifted her from the saddle and propped her against a mossy bank. When he ventured to unbuckle the cumbersome sword, Eilonwy opened one eye, made an irritated face, and pulled the blade away from him—with more determination than he had expected.

“You never understand things the first time,” Eilonwy murmured, her grip firm on the weapon. “But I imagine Assistant Pig-Keepers are all alike. I told you before you’re not to have it, and now I’ll tell you for the second time—or is it the third, or fourth? I must have lost count.” So saying, she wrapped her arms around the scabbard and dropped back to sleep.

“We must rest here,” Taran said to the bard, “if only a little while.”

“At the moment,” groaned Fflewddur, who had stretched out full length with his toes and nose pointing straight into the air, “I don’t care who catches me. I’d welcome Arawn himself, and ask whether he had any breakfast with him.”

“The Cauldron-Born might have lost track of us during the night,” Taran said hopefully, but without great conviction. “I wish I knew how far we’ve left them behind—if we’ve left them behind at all.”

Gurgi brightened a little. “Clever Gurgi will know,” he cried, “with seekings and peekings.”

In another moment, Gurgi was halfway up a tall pine. He clambered easily to the top and perched there like an enormous crow, scanning the land in the direction they had traveled.

Taran, meanwhile, opened the saddlebags. So little food remained that it was hardly worth dividing. He and Fflewddur agreed to give Eilonwy the last of the provisions.

Gurgi had scented food even at the top of the pine tree, and he came scuttling down, snuffling eagerly at the prospect of his crunchings and munchings.

“Stop thinking about eating for a moment,” Taran cried. “What did you see?”

“Two warriors are far, but Gurgi sees them—yes, yes, they are riding full of wickedness and fierceness. But there is time for a small crunching,” Gurgi pleaded. “Oh, very small for clever, valiant Gurgi.”

“There are no more crunchings,” said Taran. “If the Cauldron-Born are still on our heels, you had better worry less about food and more about your own skin.

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