"I say," called Prince Rhun, crouching at the front of the raft, "I don't mean to complain after all the work you've done, but I think something's breaking loose."
Taran, busy steering, glanced down in alarm. The hurriedly knotted vines had begun to give way. The raft shuddered in the swift current. With the pole, Taran thrust deeply for the river bottom, seeking to bring the raft to a halt. The current bore it onward and the branches bent and twisted as the water poured through the gaps. One of the vines parted, a branch ripped free, then another. Throwing aside the useless pole, Taran shouted for the companions to jump clear. Seizing Prince Rhun by the jacket, he sprang into the river.
As the water closed over his head, Prince Rhun kicked and struggled wildly. Taran tightened his grasp on the floundering Prince and fought his way to the surface. With a free hand he clung to a boulder and gained a foothold among the shifting stones. Heaving with all his strength, he dragged Rhun ashore and flung him to the bank.
Gurgi and Fflewddur had managed to catch hold of what remained of the raft and were hauling it into the shallows. Prince Rhun sat up and looked around.
"That's the closest I've ever been to drowning," he gasped. "I've often wondered what it was like, though now I don't think I'd care to know."
"Drowning?" said Fflewddur, staring at the wreckage of the craft. "Worse than that! All our labor has gone for naught."
Taran rose wearily to his feet. "Most of the branches can be used. We'll cut more vines and start again."
The discouraged companions turned to the task of repairing the raft, now strewn in pieces along the bank. The work went more slowly than before, for the trees grew sparser here and vines were scarce.
The Prince of Mona had made his way to a clump of osiers, and Taran glimpsed him tugging away, trying to uproot them. The next instant, Rhun was no longer in sight.
With a shout of alarm, Taran dropped his armload of vines and ran toward the spot, calling Rhun's name.
The bard looked up. "Not again!" he cried. "If there were a field with one stone he'd trip over it! A Fflam is patient, but there are limits!" Nevertheless, he hurried to join Taran, who was already kneeling among the osiers.
At the spot where Rhun had been standing was a gaping hole. The Prince of Mona had vanished.
Chapter 10
The Cavern
HEEDLESS OF FFLEWDDUR'S warning shout, Taran leaped into the pit and slid quickly past a mesh of torn roots. The hole widened a little, then dropped straight. Calling for the bard to lower a length of vine, he let himself fall, then scrambled to his feet and struggled to lift up the unconscious Rhun, who was bleeding heavily from a gash at the side of his head.
The end of the vine dangled from above. Taran seized and lashed it securely under the Prince's arms, shouting for Fflewddur and Gurgi to pull him up. The vine tautened, strained― and snapped. Earth and stones showered from the raw sides of the hole.
"Beware!" Taran cried. "The ground is giving way!"
"Afraid you're right," Fflewddur called back. "In that case, I think we'd better give you a hand from down there."
Taran saw the soles of Fflewddur's boots plunge toward him. The bard landed with a grunt, and Gurgi, whose hair looked as though it had scraped away most of the dirt from the hole, tumbled after.
Prince Rhun's eyelids fluttered. "Hullo, hullo!" he murmured. "What happened? Those roots were surprisingly deep!"
"The land must be eaten away along the riverbank," Taran said. "When you pulled, the strain and weight opened up this hole. Never fear," he added quickly, "we'll soon have you out. Help us to turn you. Can you move at all?"
The Prince nodded, gritted his teeth, and, with the companions lifting him, began painfully clambering up the side of the pit. But he had gone no more than halfway when he lost his handhold. Taran scrambled to block his fall. Rhun clutched wildly at a root and hung poised a moment in mid-air.
The root tore free and Rhun plummeted downward. The wall of earth rumbled as the pit collapsed around them. Taran flung up his arms against the rush of soil and shale. He was thrown down, the ground cracked at his feet, fell away, and left him spinning in nothingness.
A violent shock stunned him. Loose earth filled his nose and mouth. Lungs bursting, he fought against the weight pressing the life from him. It was only then he realized he had stopped falling. His head still reeled, but he twisted and clawed his way through dirt and pebbles. He heaved himself upward, breathing once again.
Gasping and trembling, he dropped at full length on a sloping, rocky floor, in darkness so deep it seemed to suffocate him. At last regaining strength enough to lift his head, he tried vainly to peer through the shadows that filled his eyes. He called to the companions, but no answer came. His voice rang with a strange, hollow echo. In despair, he shouted once more.
"Hullo, hullo!" called another voice.
"Prince Rhun!" Taran cried. "Where are you?m Are you safe?"
"I don't know," answered the Prince. "If I could see better, I could tell you better."
Raising himself to hands and knees, Taran crawled forward. His groping fingers met a shaggy mass that stirred and whimpered.
"Terrible, oh terrible!" moaned Gurgi. "Rumblings and crumblings fling poor Gurgi into fearsome blackness. He cannot see!"
"Great Belin," came Fflewddur's voice out of the dark, "I'm delighted to hear that. For a moment I thought I'd been struck blind. I swear I can see more with my eyes shut!"
Ordering Gurgi to hang on to his belt, Taran crept in the direction of the bard's voice. Soon the companions had fond each other again, and also Prince Rhun who hd managed to drag himself toward them.
"Fflewddur," Taran said in an anxious voice, "I fear the landslide has blocked the pit. Dare we try to dig our way out?"
"I don't think it's so much a question of digging as it is of finding, if you take my meaning," replied the bard. "Whether we can burrow through all that dirt is, to say the least of it, highly doubtful. Even a mole would have trouble, though I'm willing to give it a try. A Fflam is undaunted! But," he added, "without a light to guide us, we shall spend. the rest of our days looking for the right spot to dig."
Taran nodded and knitted his brows. "It's true. Light is as precious to us as air." He turned to Gurgi. "Try to use your flints. We have no tinder here, but if I can catch the spark in my cloak it may be enough to set it alight." He heard rustling, slapping sounds, as though Gurgi were searching himself all over, and then a dismal wail.
"Fire stones are gone!" Gurgi moaned. "Wretched Gurgi cannot make bright blazing! He has lost them, oh misery and sorrow! Gurgi will go alone to seek them."
Taran patted the creature's shoulder. "Stay with us here," he said. "I value your life more than fire stones. We shall find some other way. Wait!" he cried. "Eilonwy's bauble! If only it will light for us!"
Quickly he thrust into his jacket and drew out the sphere. For a moment he held it covered in his hands, fearing disappointment should the bauble fail to glow.
Holding his breath, he slowly moved a hand away. The golden sphere lay cupped in his palm; he could feel its smooth, cool surface and its weight, which was somehow not weight at all. He sensed the eyes of the companions on him and could guess at their hopeful glances. But the darkness pressed heavier and more stifling than ever. The bauble gave not the slightest glimmer.
"I cannot do it," Taran murmured. "I fear it is not given to an Assistant Pig-Keeper to command such a thing of beauty and enchantment."
"No sense in my trying," said Prince Rhun. "I know I can't make it work. The very first time I held it, the thing blinked out the moment it was in my hands. Surprising! The Princess Eilonwy could light it so easily."