The ignorant speak of hidden arts, but they are not hidden. Indeed, there is nothing secret about them at all; they are freely open and available to any who would pursue them. Ah, but the price! The price is nothing less than the devotion of an entire life. So perhaps the simpleminded are right, after all, in thinking of the acquisition of power as a pact in which the soul is bartered. There is no other way.

Leaving the others to restore themselves, I walked back over the hill to fetch the horses and, with some difficulty, brought them within the confines of the ruined caer. The horses shied from entering the place, and it took all my coaxing just to get them to pass through the gate. Once inside, they twitched and shivered as if they were cold, and stamped the ground anxiously. Nevertheless, I tethered them nearby and, retrieving the two waterskins from behind the saddles, hastened back to the ruined wall.

Kneeling beside Llenlleawg, I wet the edge of my cloak and dabbed it to his lips. He did not stir.

'Is he dead?' asked Peredur; he gathered his legs beneath him and came to stand over me.

Putting my face near Llenlleawg's, I felt his breath light on my cheek. 'He lives, never fear,' I told the young warrior. 'Let us see what they have done to him.'

Thus I proceeded to clean his wounds; pouring water on a strip of cloth torn from the lower edge of my siarc, I washed away the dirt and blood from his face and neck.

He had been soundly beaten, taking many blows to the head, and several of these had been hard enough to break the skin. His left eye was red and puffy; dark blood caked his nostrils and oozed from the nasty gash on his lower lip. His cloak was gone, and much of his shirt, as well as his belt and weapons. Whoever made bold to separate this Irishman from spear or knife most certainly paid a fearful price for their audacity: of that I had no doubt.

Save for some bruises on his shoulders, and scrapes on his arms and wrists, there were no other wounds that I could see. Apparently, his attackers had been satisfied to beat him senseless before throwing him into the iron house – they would never have gotten him inside it any other way.

The horses began neighing just then, so Tallaght, having regained himself somewhat, got up to see what was bothering them. He walked away shaking the cramps from his arms.

'A cruel death,' observed Peredur, looking around almost fearfully. 'It is fortunate we found him when we did. Who would want to do such a thing?'

'When we discover that, we will have pierced the mystery to its core,' I replied, and turned once more to Llenlleawg. I tore another strip from the bottom edge of my siarc, wet it, and applied it to his battered face. This brought a moan from the Irishman's throat. He wheezed and black phlegm came to his lips. I dabbed it away with the edge of the wet cloth. 'There, cough it all up,' I told him. 'Get rid of it.'

At the sound of my voice, his eyelids flew open, and he surged up all at once as if he would flee.

'Be easy, Llenlleawg,' I said, placing my hand on his chest so that he would not do himself further injury. 'Lie back. All is well. Your enemies are gone.'

He slumped back with a sighing groan, then fell to hacking so hard I thought his ribs would crack. He coughed up the vile black stuff, spitting again and again, only to cough up more.

'Drink a little,' I offered, bringing the waterskin to his mouth. 'It will revive you.'

As the water touched his lips, a troubled expression appeared on his face and he made to rise once more. 'Rest yourself, brother,' I said. 'It is Gwalchavad here. There is nothing to fear.'

Recognition came into his eyes at last; he ceased resisting and lay back, allowing me to give him a drink. He drank greedily, swallowing it down in great draughts as if he had not had any water in days. I tried to pull the waterskin away, but he gone, and much of his shirt, as well as his belt and weapons. Whoever made bold to separate this Irishman from spear or knife most certainly paid a fearful price for their audacity: of that I had no doubt.

Save for some bruises on his shoulders, and scrapes on his arms and wrists, there were no other wounds that I could see. Apparently, his attackers had been satisfied to beat him senseless before throwing him into the iron house – they would never have gotten him inside it any other way.

The horses began neighing just then, so Tallaght, having regained himself somewhat, got up to see what was bothering them. He walked away shaking the cramps from his arms.

'A cruel death,' observed Peredur, looking around almost fearfully. 'It is fortunate we found him when we did. Who would want to do such a thing?'

'When we discover that, we will have pierced the mystery to its core,' I replied, and turned once more to Llenlleawg. I tore another strip from the bottom edge of my siarc, wet it, and applied it to his battered face. This brought a moan from the Irishman's throat. He wheezed and black phlegm came to his lips. I dabbed it away with the edge of the wet cloth. 'There, cough it all up,' I told him. 'Get rid of it.'

At the sound of my voice, his eyelids flew open, and he surged up all at once as if he would flee.

'Be easy, Llenlleawg,' I said, placing my hand on his chest so that he would not do himself further injury. 'Lie back. All is well. Your enemies are gone.'

He slumped back with a sighing groan, then fell to hacking so hard I thought his ribs would crack. He coughed up the vile black stuff, spitting again and again, only to cough up more.

'Drink a little,' I offered, bringing the waterskin to his mouth. 'It will revive you.'

As the water touched his lips, a troubled expression appeared on his face and he made to rise once more. 'Rest yourself, brother,' I said. 'It is Gwalchavad here. There is nothing to fear.'

Recognition came into his eyes at last; he ceased resisting and lay back, allowing me to give him a drink. He drank greedily, swallowing it down in great draughts as if he had not had any water in days. I tried to pull the waterskin away, but he grabbed my wrist and held it in place and gulped until he choked, spewing blackened water from his nose and mouth.

'Here, now! We did not pull you from the flames to drown you,' I said. 'Drink slowly. There is plenty.'

He released my hand and slumped back. His mouth worked and he tried to speak, but it was some time before he could make himself understood. 'Gwalchavad,' he said, his voice raw and wispy, 'you found… me…'

'We have been following your trail for days. I am sorry we did not arrive sooner – we might have saved you a beating.'

'I am -' he began, then fell to coughing again, '…you found me…'

'Who did this to you?'

Before he could answer, I heard a shout. It was Peredur calling me to come running. Llenlleawg started at the sound. 'Peace, brother. It is one of the Cymbrogi,' I explained quickly. 'Leave it to me.'

'How many -' he gasped,'… with you?'

"Only two of the younger warriors,' I said, rising. 'If I had known we were going to be riding the length and breadth of Llyonesse, I would have brought the entire Dragon Flight. Rest easy; I will return directly.'

I found Peredur beside Tallaght, who was standing with his arms half raised and crossed at the wrists as if to protect himself from a beating. Peredur, his hand on Tallaght's shoulder, spoke to him while shaking him gently. The horses, meanwhile, had not ceased their neighing – if anything, their distress had only increased.

'What is it?' I snapped, irritated at his failure to accomplish this simplest of chores.

'I cannot wake him,' Peredur said.

I gave the young man a sour look to show him what I thought of his ludicrous explanation, and turned to Tallaght. But behold! Though he stood upright with his eyes open wide, in all other respects he appeared fast asleep, seeming neither to see nor to hear, but remaining unmoved through all of Peredur's exertions, a rapt expression on his face as if held in thrall to a dream of such pleasant aspect that he would not be roused.