The High King

"Achren goes more likely to her death," answered Gwydion, his face grim as he looked toward the hills and the leafless trees. "There is no safety for her beyond Caer Dallben. I would protect her, but dare not delay my quest to seek her now." He turned to Dallben. "I must know Hen Wen's prophecy. It is my only guide."

The enchanter nodded and led the companions to the cottage. The aged man still held the parchment and the splintered letter sticks. Now he cast them on the table and gazed at them for a long moment before he spoke.

"Hen Wen has told us what she can. All, I fear, that we shall ever learn from her. I have again studied the symbols she pointed out, hoping against hope I had misread them." His expression was withdrawn, his eyes lowered, and he spoke with difficulty, as if each word wrenched his heart. "I asked how Dyrnwyn might be recovered. Hear the answer given us:

Ask, sooner, mute stone and voiceless rock to speak.

"Such is Hen Wen's message as I have read it from the first letter stick," Dallben said. "Whether it is a refusal to speak, a prophecy in itself, or a warning to ask no further, I cannot be sure. But the symbols of the second letter stick spell out the fate of Dyrnwyn itself."

Dallben continued, and the enchanter's words filled Taran with cold anguish that struck deep as a sword thrust:

Quenched will be Dyrnwyn's flame;

Vanished, its power.

Night turn to noon

And rivers burn with frozen fire

Ere Dyrnwyn be regained.

The ancient man bowed his head then and was silent for a time. "The third stick," he said at last, "was destroyed before Hen Wen could complete her message. She might have told us more; but, judging from the first two, we would have cause for no more hope than we have now."

"The prophecies mock us;" Taran said. "Hen told us truly. We could as well have asked stones for help."

"And got as much sense from them!" cried Eilonwy. "Hen could have come straight out and said we'll never get Dyrnwyn back. Night can't be noon, and that's the end of it."

"In all my travels," added Fflewddur, "I've never noticed even a small creek burning, not to mention a river. The prophecy is doubly impossible."

"And yet," said King Rhun, with innocent eagerness, "it would be an amazing thing to see. I wish it could happen!"

"I fear you shall not see it come to pass, King of Mona," Dallben said heavily.

Gwydion, who had been sitting thoughtfully at the table and turning the splintered rods back and forth in his hands, rose and spoke to the companions.

"Hen Wen's prophecy is disheartening," he said, "and far from what I had hoped. But when prophecies give no help, men must find it of themselves." His hands clenched and snapped the fragment of ash wood. "As long as life and breath are mine, I will seek Dyrnwyn. The prophecy does not change my plans, but makes them only more urgent."

"Then let us go with you," Taran said, rising to face Gwydion. "Take our strength until your own returns."

"Exactly so!" Fflewddur jumped to his feet. "I'll pay no heed whether rivers burn or not. Ask stones to speak? I'll ask Arawn himself. He'll keep no secrets from a Fflam!"

Gwydion shook his head. "In this task, the more men the greater risk. It is done best alone. If any life be staked against Arawn Death-Lord, it must be mine."

Taran bowed, for Gwydion's tone forbade dispute. "If such is your will," he said. "But what if Kaw were to fly ahead to Annuvin? Send him first. He will go swiftly and bring back whatever knowledge he can gain."

Gwydion looked shrewdly at Taran and nodded approval. "You have found some wisdom in your wanderings, Assistant Pig-Keeper. Your plan is sound. Kaw may serve me better than all your swords. But I shall not await him here. To do so would cost me too much time. Let him spy out Annuvin as far as he is able, then find me at King Smoit's castle in Cantrev Cadiffor. Smoit's realm lies on my path to Annuvin, and thus my journey will be half accomplished when Kaw rejoins me."

"At least we can ride with you as far as King Smoit's castle," Taran said, "and guard you until you are well on your way. Between here and Cantrev Cadiffor, Arawn's Huntsmen may be abroad, still seeking your death."

"The foul villains!" cried the bard. "Treacherous murderers! They'll have a taste of my sword this time. Let them attack us. I hope they do!" A harp string snapped with a loud crack that set the instrument a-jangling. "Ah, yes― well― that's only a manner of speaking," Fflewddur said sheepishly. "I hope we don't come upon them at all. They could be troublesome and delay our journey."

"No one has considered the inconvenience to me," said Glew. The former giant had come out of the scullery and looked peevishly around him.