He dared not, Taran understood, let his heavier opponent come to grips with him, for Dorath's powerful arms could snap him in two; as the warrior plunged once more against him, Taran snatched the man's forearm and with all his strength swung Dorath head over heels to send him crashing to the ground.
But Dorath was on his feet in a flash. Taran crouched to meet the warrior's new attack. For all his weight, Dorath moved quick as a cat; he dropped to one side, spun quickly, and suddenly Taran saw the man's thick fingers gouging at his eyes. As Taran struggled to escape the blinding thrust, Dorath seized him by the hair and wrenched his head backward. The warrior's fist was raised to strike. Taran, gasping at the painful shock, flailed at the man's grinning face. Dorath's hold loosened; Taran tore himself away. For an instant Dorath seemed bewildered by the rain of blows, and Taran pressed his slight advantage, darting from one side to the other, giving Dorath no chance to gain the upper hand again.
Dorath dropped suddenly to one knee and caught at Taran with an outflung arm. Striving to tear himself away, Taran felt a sharp, stinging blow to his side. He fell backward, clutching at the hurt. Dorath rose up. He gripped a short-bladed knife drawn from his boot.
"Disarm!" Taran cried. "We fight weaponless! You betray me, Dorath!"
The warrior looked down at him. "Have you learned which of us is the fool, Lord Swineherd?"
Eilonwy's horn lay within Taran's grasp and his fingers reached for it. How long, he thought hurriedly, how long before the Fair Folk might answer his call? Could he hope to keep Dorath at bay, or, at the last, could he do no more than turn and flee? He yearned desperately to sound the notes, but with an angry shout he cast aside the battle horn, snatched up his cloak for a shield, and plunged straight against Dorath.
The warrior's knife tangled in the folds of the garment. Gaining strength from his anger, Taran ripped the blade from the hand of Dorath, who staggered under the fury of the onslaught and fell to the ground. Taran followed him, seized Dorath by the shoulders, and braced his knee against the warrior's chest.
"Cut-throat!" Taran shouted through clenched teeth. "You'd have taken my life for the sake of a bit of iron."
Dorath's fingers scrabbled in the earth. His arm shot up. A handful of dirt and stones pelted against Taran's face.
"Find me now!" cried Dorath with a mighty heave. Taran clapped hands to his smarting eyes; tears streamed down his face; and he groped for the warrior who sprang away in an instant.
Taran stumbled forward on hands and knees. Dorath's heavy boot drove into his ribs. Taran cried out, then fell doubled up and panting. He strove to rise, but even the strength of his anger could not bring him to his feet. He sank down, his face pressed against the ground.
Dorath strode to the sword and plucked it from the turf. He turned to Taran. "I spare your life, swineherd," he cried scornfully. "It means naught to me and I have no wish for it. Should we meet again, it may not go as well for you."
Taran raised his head. In Dorath's eyes he saw only cold hatred that seemed to reach out to blight or shatter all it touched. "You have won nothing," Taran whispered. "What have you gained worth more to you than to me?"
"The getting pleased me, swineherd. The taking pleases me all the more." Dorath tossed the sword in the air, caught it again, then threw back his head and burst into raw laughter. He turned on his heel and strode into the forest.
Even after his strength had come back and the pain in his side had dwindled to a dull ache, Taran sat a long while on the ground before gathering up his belongings― the torn cloak, the battle horn, the empty scabbard, and setting off to join Fflewddur and Gurgi. Dorath had gone. There was no sign of him, but the laughter still rang in Taran's ears.
Chapter 13
The Lost Lamb
UNDER FAIR SKIES and gentle weather, the companions traveled deeper into the Hill Cantrevs. Gurgi had bandaged Taran's wound and the smart of it eased more quickly than the sting of losing his sword. As for the bard, the encounter with Dorath had driven away his concern for the length of his ears; he hardly mentioned the word "rabbit," and had begun to share Taran's belief in a good ending to a hard journey. Gurgi still grumbled bitterly about the ruffians and often turned to shake an angry fist in the air. Fortunately, the companions had seen no more of the band, though Gurgi's furious grimaces might well have been enough to keep any marauders at a safe distance.
"Shameful robbings!" muttered Gurgi. "Oh, kindly master, why did you not sound helpful horn and be spared beatings and cheatings?"
"The blade meant a great deal to me," Taran answered, "but I'll find another that will serve me. As for Eilonwy's horn, once used, its power is gone beyond regaining."
"Oh, true!" Gurgi cried, blinking in amazement, as if such a thought had never entered his shaggy head. "'Oh, wisdom of kindly master! Will humble Gurgi's wits never grow sharper?"
"We've all wits enough to see Taran chose rightly," put in Fflewddur. "In his place I'd have done the same― ah, no, what I meant," he quickly added, glancing at the harp, "I'd have blown that horn till I was blue in the face. Ho, there! Steady, old girl!" he cried as Llyan suddenly plunged ahead. "I say, what are you after now?"
At the same time Taran heard a forlorn bleating coming from a patch of brambles. Llyan was already there, crouching playfully, her tail waving in the air and one of her paws outstretched to tug at the briars.
A white lamb was caught in the thicket and, seeing the enormous cat, bleated all the louder and struggled pitifully. While Fflewddur, strumming his harp, drew Llyan away, Taran quickly dismounted. With Gurgi's help he bent aside the brambles and picked up the terrified animal.
"The poor thing's strayed― from where?" Taran said. "I saw no farm nearby."
"Well, I suppose it knows its home better than we do," answered Fflewddur, while Gurgi eyed the lost animal and delightedly patted the creature's fleecy head. "All we can do is let it go to find its own path."
"The lamb is mine," called a stern voice.
Surprised, Taran turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man making his way with great difficulty down the rocky slope. Gray streaked his hair and beard, scars creased his wide brow, and his dark eyes watched the companions intently as he toiled over the jutting stones. Unarmed save for a long hunting knife in his leather belt, he wore the rude garb of a herdsman; his cloak was rolled and slung over his back; his jacket was tattered at the edges, begrimed and threadbare. What Taran had first taken to be a staff or shepherd's crook he now saw to be a roughly fashioned crutch. The man's right leg was badly lamed.
"The lamb is mine," the herdsman said again.
"Why, then it is yours to claim," Taran answered, handing the animal to him.
The lamb ceased its frightened bleating and nestled comfortably against the shoulder of the herdsman, whose frown of distrust turned to surprise, as if he had fully expected to be obliged to fight for possession of the stray. "My thanks to you," he said after a moment, then added, "I am Craddoc Son of Custennin."
"Well met," Taran said, "and now farewell. Your lamb is safe and we have far to go."
Craddoc, taking a firm grip on his crutch, turned to climb the slope, and had gone but little distance when Taran saw the man stumble and lose his footing. Under his burden Craddoc faltered and dropped to one knee. Taran strode quickly to him and held out his hands.
"If the way to your sheepfold is as stubborn as the ones we've traveled," Taran said, "let us help you on your path."
"No need!" the herdsman gruffly cried. "Do you think me so crippled I must borrow strength from others?" When he saw that Taran still offered his hands, Craddoc's expression softened. "Forgive me," said the herdsman. "You spoke in good heart. It was I who took your words ill. I am unused to company or courtesy in these hills. You've done me one service," he went on, as Taran helped him to his feet. "Now do me another: Share my hospitality." He grinned. "Though it will be small payment for saving my lamb."