Baffled and alarmed, I reached out and took the young warrior by the arm; the muscle was tensed hard, solid as wood, yet Tallaght appeared tranquil, with no sign of strain in either face or form. Next, I put my face close to his and discerned the faint stirring of his breath on my skin.

'Tallaght!' I cried sharply. 'Wake up!'

The young warrior gave not the slightest indication that he had heard. Taking him by the shoulder, I shook him so as to rattle his bones. As before, this raised no response. Seeing that his arms were folded, I took hold of his right arm and tried to straighten it, as if to break the spell. I could sooner have broken his arm, for, try as I might, there was no unbending that rigid limb – except by violent force, which would not have helped in the least.

After jostling and shouting some more, I admitted defeat and desisted. 'I tell you the truth, Peredur,' I declared, turning once more to the awestricken youth, 'I have never seen the like. He has become a living corpse.'

Peredur gaped. 'What are we to do with him?'

'I cannot say,' I replied, regarding the stiffened form before us. 'But I would not leave him here like this. I suppose we must lay him down somewhere.' Casting a quick glance at the sky, I added, 'Llenlleawg is not well enough to travel yet, and we are losing the day. We will make camp in the hall and see what tomorrow brings.'

'Spend the night here?' Peredur wondered with alarm.

'Where else?' I countered angrily. 'Here at least we have stout walls at our backs, water, and a fire. It is as good a place as we are likely to find in this accursed land.'

Too shocked to object farther, Peredur closed his mouth and stared at me in dismay.

'Now, then,' I said, 'let us carry Tallaght to the hall and make him comfortable until he wakes.'

'What,' asked Peredur, 'if he does not wake?'

'See here,' I snapped, 'I am not liking this any more than you, but there is nothing else to do.'

Together we eased the young warrior onto the ground and, lifting him between us, began carrying him to the hall. Tallaght, gazing dreamily skyward, remained placidly unaware of his rough handling; we might have been toting a plank for all Tallaght sagged or complained. We moved him to a place beside one of the standing walls and, after clearing away the stones, laid the sleeping warrior on his back. In this position, his resemblance to a corpse grew the stronger. Tearing yet another strip off my siarc, I wet it, folded it, and placed it over Tallaght's eyes – as much to hide his dead, unblinking stare as to protect his sight.

It was while I was about this chore that I saw the bite – a small, neat circle of reddish marks on the side of his neck where sharp-pointed teeth had broken the skin. If I had not seen it before, I would have said it was the bite of an animal, a small dog or weasel, perhaps. But I had seen it before: on Rhys' arm. Rhys knew nothing of how he had gotten it, and I was none the wiser for having seen two, but I knew Tallaght did not have it before he went to see to the horses.

'Now what are we to do?' asked Peredur when I finished.

'Now we make camp,' I said. I saw no reason to mention the bite to Peredur; frightening him would serve no purpose. 'Water the horses, Peredur, and – ' I stopped myself, and corrected my command. 'Better still, we will both water the horses, and when that is finished, we will tether them within the hall.'

This we did, and our various chores occupied the fast-fading day. A grey shroud of clouds moved in from the sea to obscure the sun and cast a dusky pall over the ruined stronghold. We took wood and live embers from the remains of the fire around the iron house, and used them to make our campfire. Now and then I paused to tend our stricken brothers, but there was little to be done for either of them. Tallaght had not altered a whit since we placed him on the ground, and Llenlleawg, having drunk a little water and received dressing for his wounds, slept now – coughing from time to time, and stirring fitfully, but never waking.

While we worked, we talked, Peredur and I, for it helped to keep our courage up; I confess, I could feel the fear stealing over me as the daylight abandoned us to the long, dark night. As the shadows bloomed and spread over the ruins, I felt as if we were being stalked. I imagined cold eyes watching us from all the dark places… watching and waiting.

We gathered more brush and branches – enough to keep the fire during the night – and, with the dull twilight closing around us, made a simple meal from our provisions. Neither of us ate more than a few mouthfuls as we sat hunched before the fire, gazing at the rubble heaps and fallen timbers around us while the wan flames flickered over the ruins.

When we finished eating, we banked the fire and gathered our cloaks around us to sleep – if sleep were possible. With the night, a heavy stillness descended over the valley and its ancient keep – a cold, unnatural silence, which stifled all sound and made us feel as if each belaboured breath we drew might be our last.

Twice my care-wracked drowse was broken by the sound of an owl. The creature's soft trilling call drifted down from the crumbling tower above. I woke and looked around to see a sickly moon rising over the broken wall. In elder times the call of Wisdom's Bird was deemed an unchancy thing, portending ill fortune for the wretch who heard it. Some, I ween, believe it still. Now, I am of no such mind to take fright at bird sounds in the night, but this night the call made me think of winter and graves and death stealing light and life from the eyes.

After the third call, Peredur awakened. I saw him start and then leap up. The owl, startled by the sudden movement below, swooped off, flapping its broad wings slowly. Peredur crouched, his hands tensed, staring furiously around him as if he meant to take flight, too.

'Peace, lad,' I murmured softly. 'It was only an owl.'

But he seemed not to hear. Taking two or three steps away, he stopped, then said, 'No! Wait! Very well, I will go with you!'

So saying, he threw aside his cloak and started away, as if he meant to follow someone who even now led him swiftly from the camp. I thought to call after him, but held my tongue, rose, and went after him. Peredur walked through the caer and out the gate, making straight for the blighted wood. Looking neither right nor left, he ran, leaping like a stag over the crosswise boles, quickly outdistancing myself, who scrambled clumsily in the dark with only the half of a pale moon to light my way.

Avowed to the task, I pressed on, however, following the sound of his reckless flight as the cracking of dry undergrowth gave me direction. I struggled on as best I could, trying to avoid impaling myself on the ragged ends of broken branches. As I slid over a fallen trunk, I felt something soft beneath my feet and reached down to retrieve a siarc – Peredur's siarc, to be sure. I crashed on a few more paces and found his breecs dangling from an upthrust limb.

Has he gone mad? I wondered, gathering the clothes into a bundle under my arm, and running on.

A dozen paces more and the sound of his flight abruptly ceased. It took me a moment to realize I no longer heard him anywhere ahead of me. I listened, turning my head this way and that to catch any stray sound which might betray the spot where he had gone to ground. Again, I made to call out to him, but something checked my impulse. My senses, already alert, quickened as in the heat of the hunt, and I picked my way forward in stealth, stopping every few paces to listen before moving on.

In this way I proceeded, quietly, warily, my skin tingling with an eerie anticipation. I came to a place in the blighted wood where three huge trees had fallen one across another to form a rough enclosure. I crept nearer and looked over this rude wall, and there in the centre of the clearing lay Peredur, sprawled naked on the ground. And on his bare chest a small, hunched black creature was lowering its flat head.