Part 4 (1/2)
”It's Llyan!” cried Taran.
”You can be sure it is!” Fflewddur shouted. ”Now that I see her, I quite believe Glew was gobbled up and digested long ago.”
A long, wavering growl rose from the creature's throat and she hesitated a moment as if undecided where to attack. Taran, sitting up on the ground, saw for the first time what the ferocious animal looked like.
Though Glew had written of Llyan's growth, Taran had never imagined a mountain cat so big. The animal stood as tall as a horse but leaner and longer; her tail alone, thicker than Taran's arm, seemed to take up much of the room in the hut. Heavily and sleekly furred, the cat's body was golden-tawny, flecked with black and orange. Her belly was white with black splotches. Curling tufts sprouted from the tips of her ears, and s.h.a.ggy handfuls of fur curved at her powerful jaws. Her long whiskers twitched; her baleful yellow eyes darted from one companion to another. Judging from the white points of her teeth, glittering as her lips drew back in a snarl, Taran was certain Llyan could gulp down anything that suited her fancy.
The giant cat swung her great head toward Taran and moved lithely across the ground. As she did, Fflewddur unsheathed his sword; cobwebs and all, he jumped from the table, shouted at the top of his voice, and brandished the weapon. In an instant Llyan spun around. The lash of her tail sent Taran headlong once more; even before Fflewddur could strike, Llyan's heavy paw flickered through the air. Its motion was too rapid for Taran's eyes to follow; he saw only the astonished bard's weapon fly up and clatter into the doorway, while Fflewddur himself went head over heels.
With a snort and what seemed a shrug of her rippling shoulders, Llyan turned again to Taran. She crouched, thrust out her neck, and her whiskers trembled as she padded closer to him. Taran, not daring to move a muscle, held his breath. Llyan circled him, making snuffling noises. From the corner of his eye, Taran glimpsed the bard trying to climb to his feet, and warned Fflewddur to stay still.
”She's more curious than angry,” Taran whispered. ”Otherwise, she would have clawed us to pieces by now. Don't move. She may go away.”
”Glad to hear you say that,” replied Fflewddur in a choked voice. ”I'll remember it while I'm being gobbled up. It will be a consolation to me.”
”I don't think she's hungry,” said Taran. ”If she's been out hunting during the night, she must have eaten her fill.”
”So much the worse for us,” said Fflewddur. ”She'll keep us here until her appet.i.te comes back. I'm sure this is the first time she's been lucky enough to have four dinners ready and waiting in her lair.” He sighed and shook his head. ”In my own realm I was always putting out sc.r.a.ps for birds and other creatures, but I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be putting myself myself out, if you take my meaning.” out, if you take my meaning.”
At last, Llyan settled herself across the doorway. She moistened a huge paw with her tongue and began pa.s.sing it over her ear. Engrossed in her task, she seemed to have forgotten the companions were there. Despite his fear, Taran could not help staring at her in fascination. Power filled even Llyan's gentlest movements; beneath the golden fur, glowing in the sunlight from the open door, he could guess at her mighty muscles. Llyan, he was certain, could be swift as Melynlas. But he knew also she could be deadly; and, though she did not appear ill-disposed toward the companions, her mood might change at any instant. Taran cast about desperately for a way to freedom, or at least a means of regaining their weapons.
”Fflewddur,” he whispered, ”make a little noise, not too much but enough so that Llyan will look at you.”
”How's that?” asked the bard, puzzled. ”Look at me? She'll do that soon enough. I'm thankful she hasn't yet got around to it.” However, he sc.r.a.ped his boots across the floor. Llyan immediately p.r.i.c.ked up her ears and turned her eyes on the bard.
Crouching, Taran moved silently toward Llyan, his hand outstretched. His fingers cautiously reached for his sword which lay close to Llyan's paws. Quick as lightning, the mountain cat struck at him and he fell back. Had her claws been unsheathed, Taran realized with a sinking feeling, Llyan would have gained his head in addition to his weapon.
”No chance, my friend,” said Fflewddur. ”She's faster than any of us.”
”We can be hindered no longer!” Taran cried. ”Time is precious!”
”Oh, indeed it is,” the bard answered, ”and gets more precious the less of it we have. I'm beginning to envy Princess Eilonwy. Magg may be a foul, villainous spider and all such as that, but when it comes to teeth and claws-I should vastly prefer going against him instead of Llyan. No, no,” he sighed, ”I'm quite content to stretch my last moments as far as they'll reach.”
Taran in despair pressed his hands against his forehead. ”Prince Rhun,” he called softly after a moment, as Llyan began pa.s.sing a paw over her whiskers, ”stand up quietly. See if you can make your way to that broken corner of the hut. If so, climb out and run for your life.”
The Prince of Mona nodded, but no sooner had he risen to his feet than Llyan growled a warning. Prince Rhun blinked and quickly sat down again. Llyan glared at the companions.
”Great Belin!” whispered Fflewddur. ”Don't rouse her up any more. It will only bring on her appet.i.te. She's not going to let us out of here, that's one thing sure.”
”But we must escape,” Taran urged. ”What if we all rushed upon her once? One of us at least might get past.”
Fflewddur shook his head. ”After she'd settled with the rest of us,” he answered, ”she'd have no trouble catching up with that lone survivor. Let me think, let me think.” Frowning, he reached behind him and unslung his harp. Llyan, still growling, watched intently, but made no further move.
”It always calms me,” explained Fflewddur, putting the instrument against his shoulder and pa.s.sing his hands over the harp strings. ”I don't know whether it will stir up any ideas; but when I'm playing, at least things don't seem quite so dismal.”
As a soft melody rose from the harp, Llyan began making a peculiar noise. ”Great Belin,” cried Fflewddur, stopping immediately, ”I almost forgot about her! It may be calming for me, but who can tell what it might do to a mountain cat!”
Llyan now voiced a strange, pleading yowl. But, seeing Fflewddur about to sling the harp on his shoulder once again, her tone changed and sharpened. She growled menacingly.
”Fflewddur!” Taran whispered. ”Play on!”
”You can't think she enjoys it,” replied the bard. ”I should find that hard to believe. Why, even human beings have been known to say hard words about my music. You can't expect a mountain cat to like it any better.” Nevertheless, he plucked the strings once more.
This time, there was no doubt in Taran's mind that Llyan was fascinated by the harp. The great body of the cat slackened, her muscles seemed to uncoil, and Llyan blinked peacefully. To make certain, Taran asked Fflewddur to stop. As soon as the bard did so, Llyan turned restless. Her tail lashed and her whiskers trembled with what could only be vexation. As soon as the bard played again, Llyan put her head to one side, ears forward, and gazed fondly at him.
”Yes, yes!” Gurgi cried. ”Do not leave off hummings and strummings!”
”Believe me,” the bard answered fervently, ”I haven't the slightest intention.”
Llyan folded her paws under her deep, speckled chest and began making a sound like a swarm of droning bees. Her mouth curved in a smile and the tip of her tail moved gently to the music.
”That's the answer!” cried Fflewddur, springing to his feet. ”Fly, friends, while she's quiet!” No sooner had he risen than Llyan, too, jumped up, furious, and the bard sank back, playing for dear life.
”Your music calms her,” Taran cried in alarm, ”but she still won't let us go.”
”Not exactly,” said the bard, pa.s.sing his fingers rapidly across the strings. ”I doubt if the rest of you will have any trouble. Alas,” he added ruefully, ”I fear I'm I'm the one she wants to keep!” the one she wants to keep!”
CHAPTER 8.
THE H HARP OF F FFLEWDDUR.
FLY FROM HERE!” urged the bard, never ceasing to pluck his harp strings. ”Begone! I've no idea how long she'll want to listen-or how long I can keep playing!”
”There must be another way,” Taran cried. ”We can't leave you.”
”I like it no more than you do,” replied the bard. ”But this is your chance. You must take it now.”
Taran hesitated. Fflewddur's face was grim and drawn, and he seemed already weary.
”Begone!” Fflewddur repeated. ”I'll play as long as I can. By then, if she's decided not to gobble me, she may go out hunting. Don't worry. If the harp fails, I'll think of something else.”
Sick at heart, Taran turned away. Llyan lay on her side across the threshold, one paw outstretched, the other gently curled against her tawny body. Her neck arched and her huge head turned toward Fflewddur. The fierce creature seemed altogether comfortable and peaceful. With yellow eyes half closed, she watched only the bard as Taran stealthily moved to join Gurgi and Prince Rhun. Taran's sword remained with the other weapons beneath her paw, and he dared not attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h it away, fearful as he was of breaking the spell of Fflewddur's harp.
The fallen stones at the corner of the hut gave a narrow pa.s.sage into the clearing. Taran motioned hurriedly for the Prince to go through. Gurgi followed on tiptoe, eyes wide with fright; he clutched his jaws in both hands to keep his teeth from chattering.
Taran still hung back, and turned once more to the bard, who gestured frantically.
”Out, out!” commanded Fflewddur. ”I shall find you as soon as I can. Did I not promise you a new song? You shall hear it from my own lips. Until then-farewell!”
Fflewddur's tone and glance left no room for question. Taran flung himself past the stones. In another instant he was free of the hut.
As Taran feared, the horses had broken their tethers and fled at the sight of Llyan. Gurgi and Prince Rhun had crossed the clearing and vanished into the forest. Racing at top speed, Taran soon caught up with them. Rhun's pace had already begun to flag, his breathing was labored, and he looked as though his legs might give way at any moment. Taran and Gurgi caught the staggering Prince and bore him along as fast as they could.
For some while, the three struggled through the underbrush. The forest had begun to grow spa.r.s.er and Taran caught sight of a broad meadow. At the edge of the flatland, he halted. Prince Rhun, he knew, had reached the end of his strength and he hoped only that they were a safe distance from Llyan.