The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain) Read Online Free PDF

said, “yet you have risked two. I cannot spare a man or I would send you back to Caer Dallben this instant. But I shall, if this happens again. And you, too, Ellidyr, or any of this company.”
    King Morgant stepped forward. “This proves what I had feared, Lord Gwydion. Our way is difficult, even unburdened with the
cauldron. Once we gain it, I urge you again not to return to Caer Dallben. It would be wiser to take the cauldron north, into my realm.
    “I think, too,” Morgant continued, “that a number of my own warriors should be dispatched to guard our retreat. In exchange I offer these three,” he said, gesturing toward Taran, Adaon, and Ellidyr, “a place among my horsemen when I attack. If I read their faces well, they would prefer it to waiting in reserve.”
    “Yes!” cried Taran, gripping his sword. “Let us join the attack!”
    Gwydion shook his head. “The plan shall be as I set it. Mount quickly, we have already lost much time.”
    King Morgant’s eyes flickered. “It shall be as you command, Lord Gwydion.”
    “What happened?” whispered Fflewddur to Taran. “Don’t tell me Ellidyr wasn’t to blame somehow. He’s a troublemaker, I can see it. I can’t imagine what Gwydion was thinking of when he brought him along.”
    “The blame is as much mine,” said Taran. “I behaved no better than he did. I should have held my tongue. With Ellidyr,” he added, “that’s not easy to do.”
    “Yes,” the bard sighed, glancing at his harp. “I have a rather similar difficulty.”
     
     
    Throughout the next day the company went with greatest caution, for flights of gwythaints, Arawn’s fearsome messenger birds, were now seen against the clouds. Shortly before dusk, the trail led downward toward a shallow basin set with scrub and pines. There, Gwydion halted. Ahead rose the baleful crags of Dark Gate, its twin slopes blazing crimson in the dying sun.
    Thus far the company had encountered no Cauldron-Born. Taran deemed this lucky, but Gwydion frowned uneasily.
    “I fear the Cauldron-Born more when they cannot be seen,” Gwydion said, after calling the warriors around him. “I would almost believe they had deserted Annuvin. But Doli brings news I wish I might spare you.”
    “Had me turn invisible and run ahead, that’s what he did,” Doli furiously muttered to Taran. “When we go into Annuvin, I’ll have to do it again. Humph! My ears already feel like a swarm of bees!”
    “Take heed, all of you,” Gwydion went on. “The Huntsmen of Annuvin are abroad.”
    “I have faced the Cauldron-Born,” Taran boldly cried. “These warriors can be no more terrible.”
    “Do you believe so?” Gwydion replied with a grim smile. “I dread them as much. They are ruthless as the Cauldron-Born, their strength even greater. They go afoot, yet they are swift, with much endurance. Fatigue, hunger, and thirst mean little to them.”
    “The Cauldron-Born are deathless,” Taran said. “If these are mortal men, they can be slain.”
    “They are mortal,” Gwydion answered, “though I scorn to call them men. They are the basest of warriors who have betrayed their comrades; murderers who have killed for the joy of it. To indulge their own cruelty they have willingly chosen Arawn’s realm and have sworn allegiance to him with a blood oath even they cannot break.
    “Yes,” Gwydion added, “they can be slain. But Arawn has forged them into a brotherhood of killers and given them a terrible power. They rove in small bands, and within those companies the death of one man only adds to the strength of all the rest.
    “Shun them,” Gwydion warned. “Do not give battle if it is possible to avoid it. For the more you strike down, the more the others gain in strength. Even as their number dwindles, their power grows.
    “Conceal yourselves now,” he ordered, “and sleep. Our attack must be tonight.”
    Restless, Taran could barely force himself to close his eyes. When he did, it was in light, uneasy