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thinking it easier to get wet a little at a time, hung back as much as he could--- until Melyngar lunged ahead, carrying him with her. His feet sought the river bottom, he stumbled and splashed, while icy waves swirled up to his neck. The current grew stronger, coiling like a gray serpent about Taran's legs. The bottom dropped away sharply; Taran lost his footing and found himself wildly dancing over nothing, as the river seized him greedily.
    Melyngar began to swim, her strong legs keeping her afloat and in motion, but the current swung her around; she collided with Taran and forced him under the water.
    “Let go the saddle!” Gwydion shouted above the torrent. “Swim clear of her!”
    Water flooded Taran's ears and nostrils. With every gasp, the river poured into his lungs. Gwydion struck out after him, soon overtook him, seized him by the hair, and drew him toward the shallows. He heaved the dripping, coughing Taran onto the bank. Melyngar, reaching shore a little farther upstream, trotted down to join them.
    Gwydion looked sharply at Taran. “I told you to swim clear. Are all Assistant Pig-Keepers deaf as well as stubborn?”
    “I don't know how to swim!” Taran cried, his teeth chattering violently.
    “Then why did you not say so before we started across?” Gwydion asked angrily.
    “I was sure I could learn,” Taran protested, “as soon as I came to do it. If Melyngar hadn't sat on me...”
    “You must learn to answer for your own folly,” said Gwydion. “As for Melyngar, she is wiser now than you can ever hope to become, even should you live to be a man--- which seems more and more unlikely.”
    Gwydion swung into the saddle and pulled up the soaked, bedraggled Taran. Melyngar's hoofs clicked over the stones. Taran, snuffling and shivering, looked toward the waiting hills. High against the blue, three winged shapes wheeled and glided.
    Gwydion, whose eyes were everywhere at once, caught sight of them instantly.
    “Gwythaints!” he cried, and turned Melyngar sharply to the right. The abrupt change of direction and Melyngar's heaving burst of speed threw Taran off balance. His legs flew up and he landed flat on the pebble-strewn bank.
    Gwydion reined in Melyngar immediately. While Taran struggled to his feet, Gwydion seized him like a sack of meal and hauled him to Melyngar's back. The gwythaints which, at a distance, had seemed no more than dry leaves in the wind, grew larger and larger, as they plunged toward horse and riders. Downward they swooped, their great black wings driving them ever faster. Melyngar clattered up the river bank. The gwythaints screamed above. At the line of trees, Gwydion thrust Taran from the saddle and leaped down. Dragging him along, Gwydion dropped to the earth under an oak tree's spreading branches.
    The glittering wings beat against the foliage. Taran glimpsed curving beaks and talons merciless as daggers. He cried out in terror and hid his face, as the gwythaints veered off and swooped again. The leaves rattled in their wake. The creatures swung upward, hung poised against the sky for an instant, then climbed swiftly and sped westward.
    White-faced and trembling, Taran ventured to raise his head. Gwydion strode to the river bank and stood watching the gwythaints' flight. Taran made his way to his companion's side.
    “I had hoped this would not happen,” Gwydion said. His face was dark and grave. “Thus far, I have been able to avoid them.”
    Taran said nothing. He had clumsily fallen off Melyngar at the moment when speed counted most; at the oak, he had behaved like a child. He waited for Gwydion's reprimand, but the warrior's green eyes followed the dark specks.
    “Sooner or later they would have found us,” Gwydion said. “They are Arawn's spies and messengers, the Eyes of Annuvin, they are called. No one stays long hidden from them. We are lucky they were only scouting and not on a blood hunt.” He turned away as the gwythaints at last disappeared. “Now they fly