The High King

The enchanter motioned the bard to be silent. Once more he spoke, softly yet commandingly. Hen Wen shrank into herself and moaned as though in pain.

"Her fear blinds her powers," Dallben said gravely. "Even my spells do not reach her. I have failed."

Despair filled the faces of the watching companions.

Gwydion bowed his head; and his eyes were deeply troubled. "We, too, shall fail," he said, "if we do not learn whatever she can tell us."

Quickly and without a word Taran climbed the railing, walked steadily toward the frightened pig, and dropped to his knees beside her. He scratched her chin and gently stroked her neck. "Don't be afraid, Hen. Nothing will harm you here."

Dallben, surprised, started forward, then halted. Hearing Taran's voice, the pig had cautiously opened one eye.

Her snout twitched, she raised her head slightly and gave a faint "Hwoinch!"

"Hen, listen to me," Taran pleaded, "I have no power to command you. But we need your help, all of us who love you."

Taran spoke on; as he did, the oracular pig ceased her trembling. Though she did not attempt to rise, Hen Wen grunted fondly, wheezed, and made affectionate muttering sounds in her throat. She blinked her eyes and her wide face seemed nearly to grin.

"Tell us, Hen," Taran urged. "Please. Tell us what you can."

Hen Wen moved uneasily. Slowly she climbed to her feet. The white pig snorted and glanced at the letter sticks. Step by step, on her short legs, she moved closer to them.

The enchanter nodded to Taran. "Well done," he murmured. "This day, the power of an Assistant Pig-Keeper is greater than my own."

As Taran stared, not daring to speak, Hen Wen paused at the first rod. Still hesitant, she pointed with her snout at one of the carved symbols, then at another. Dallben, watching intently, quickly wrote on a scrap of parchment the signs the oracular pig had indicated. Hen Wen continued a few moments, then suddenly left off and backed anxiously from the stick.

Dallben's face was grave. "Can this be so?" he murmured, his voice filled with alarm. "No…no. We must learn more than that." He glanced at Taran.

"Please, Hen," Taran whispered, coming to the side of the pig, who had begun to shudder again. "Help us."

Despite his words, Taran feared Hen Wen would turn away. She shook her head, squinted her eyes and grunted piteously. Nevertheless, at his pleading, she cautiously trotted to the second rod. There, in desperate haste, as if to make an end of it quickly, she pointed to other symbols.

The enchanter's hand trembled as he wrote. "Now the third one," he said urgently.

Hen Wen, stiff-legged, reared back and sank to her haunches. All of Taran's soothing words would not budge her for several moments. At last, however, she rose and more fearfully than ever trotted to the final ash-wood rod.

Even as Hen Wen approached and before she could point to the first letter, the ash-wood rods shook and swayed like living things. They twisted as though to uproot themselves, and with a sound that ripped the air like a thunder clap, they split, shattered, and fell to earth in splinters.

Hen Wen, squealing in terror, flung herself backwards and fled to a corner of the enclosure. As Taran hurried to her; Dallben bent, picked up the fragments of wood and studied them hopelessly.

"They are destroyed beyond repair, and useless now," Dallben said in a heavy voice. "The cause is dark to me, and Hen Wen's prophecy remains unfinished. Even so, I doubt its end could bode less ill than its beginning. She must have sensed this herself."

The enchanter turned and walked slowly from the enclosure. Eilonwy had joined Taran, who strove to calm the terrified pig. Hen Wen still gasped and shook, and pressed her head between her forelegs.

"No wonder she didn't want to prophesy," Eilonwy cried. "And yet," she added to Taran, "Hen would have told nothing at all if it hadn't been for you.

Dallben, with the parchment in his hand, had gone to the side of Gwydion. Coll, Fflewddur, and King Rhun gathered anxiously around them. Sure that Hen Wen was unharmed and wanted only to be left in peace, Taran and Eilonwy hurried to the companions.

"Help! Oh, help!"

Yelling, waving his arms frantically, Gurgi raced across the turf. He dashed into their midst and pointed toward the stables.

"Gurgi could do nothing!" he cried. "He tried, oh yes, but there were only smackings and whackings for his poor tender head! Gone!" Gurgi shouted. "With fast and speedful gallopings! Wicked Queen is gone!"

Chapter 3 The Prophecy

THE COMPANIONS HASTENED to the stable. As Gurgi had told them, one of King Rhun's horses was missing. Of Achren, there was no trace.

"Let me saddle Melynlas," Taran urged Gwydion. "I shall try to overtake her."

"She's going straight to Annuvin," burst out Fflewddur. "I never trusted that woman. Great Belin, who knows what treachery she plans! She's off to feather her own nest, you can be sure of it."