from the first fruit of the Lord God at the world's beginning.

'The Magician of magicians created me.

'From the essence of all soils was I made,

renowned blood flowing in me.

Peoples are made, re-made, and will be made again.

Fairest Bard, I can put into song what the tongue can utter.

'Hear my bold telling:

'At my calling the small-souled scattered

like sparks from a firebrand flung from high Eryri.

'I was a dragon enchanted in a hill;

I was a viper in a lake;

I was a star with a silver shaft;

I was a red-scaled spear in the grasp of a Champion.

'Four fifties of smoke will follow me;

five fifties of bondmaids will serve me.

'My pale yellow horse is swifter than any sea-gull;

swifter than the hunting merlin.

'I was a tongue of flame in fire;

I was wood in a Beltane blaze

that burned and was not consumed.

'I was a candle;

a lantern in the hand of a priest;

a gentle light that glows in the night.

'I was a sword and a shield to Mighty Kings;

a blade of excellent craft

in the hand of the Pendragon of Britain.

'Like my father,

I have sung since I was small.

The harp is my true voice.

'I wandered;

I encircled.

I called upon the Swift Sure Hand to deliver me.

I attacked.

'Righteousness was my only weapon;

the courage of the Saviour burned in me.

The battle frenzy of Lieu was not more glorious than my golden rage.

'I wounded an enchanted beast:

a hundred heads on it,

and a fierce host at the root of its tongue -

a black, forked tongue;

nine hundred claws it raised against me.

I slew a crested serpent in whose skin six fifties of souls are tortured.

'I shall yet cause a field of blood,

and on it seven hundreds of warriors;

scaly and red my shield and blade,

but bright gold my shield ring.

'A warrior I have been; a warrior I will be.

'I have slept in a hundred realms

and dwelt in a hundred hill forts;

a hundred hundred kings will yet salute me.

'Wise Druid, prophesy to Arthur!

Tell the Days of the Bright Champion:

what has been,

what is to come;

was, and will be.

'The Brilliant Shining One will make his people;

they will be called by his name:

the Sure Hand.

Like lightning he will quicken the Host of Forever!'

I stared at him in wonder. Myrddin, a man I knew well and seemed now not to know at all. The bard's awen was on him and his face glowed – whether with the light of the fire, or with its own mysterious light, I could not tell. He sat, nodding his bandaged head to the cadence, hearing the echo of his words in the empty reaches of the night.

'Why do you wonder at what I tell you?' he asked abruptly. 'You must know that I speak the truth. Nevertheless, guard yourself against the wiles of the Enemy, my friends. Oh, but never fear. Never fear! Hear me, Bedwyr! Hear me Gwalcmai! Hear the Soul of Wisdom and know the power of the High King we serve.'

So saying, he began to tell what had happened in Llyonesse. Blind, his eyes bound, he lifted his raw voice to the guttering sky, and he began to speak it out, slowly, haltingly at first, but more quickly as the words formed in a strong and steady stream. This is what he said:

'I observed evensong in the Shrine of the Saviour God, something I have long wanted to do. I regretted passing so close to Ynys Avallach and not stopping to see Charis and Avallach, but I could not let them know what I intended.

'Upon entering Llyonesse, I rode to Belyn's palace and found it – like the Fair Folk settlement in Broceliande – deserted. But why? That is what I could not understand.

'What had happened to the Fair Folk? What disaster had overtaken them? How could it have been accomplished? What purpose was served in their murder? Oh, yes, that is how I came to see it: wilful and wanton murder. And so it was. But why? Great Light, why?

'I could not rest. The more I thought about it, the more troubled I became. That some dread design of Morgian's lay behind it, I did not doubt – '

'Morgian!' Gwalcmai gasped.

'I am sorry, Gwalcmai,' said Myrddin softly. 'It is true. But you need feel no shame – the fault is hers alone.'

Gwalcmai's contrition was pure. He knelt down before Myrddin, bowed his head and stretched forth his hands in supplication. 'Forgive me, Emrys. If I had known… '

'But you are guiltless, lad. I blame you not, neither should you hold yourself to blame. You did not know.'

'What of Morgian's design?' I asked, itching with curiosity to hear the rest.

Myrddin shook his bandaged head. 'I could in no wise determine what that design might be. Waking or sleeping, the questions assailed me like hornets disturbed in their nest. Why? Why? Why?

'I prayed to the Illuminating Spirit to teach me this purpose. I fasted and prayed to learn it. I fasted and prayed like a very bishop, all the time riding deeper into Llyonesse.

'Then, upon waking one morning, it came into my mind that Morgian, Queen of Air and Darkness, was fear driven. It is so simple! Why did she act now after all these years? Because something drove her to act – and that something was fear. Morgian was afraid.

'Now what could cause such fear? Think! What does darkness fear but the light that reveals its secret empty heart? What does evil fear but goodness?

'I ask you, Bedwyr: who then stands between Morgian and her dread desires? Who is the Summer Lord? Whose reign signals the beginning of the Kingdom of Summer?'

'Arthur's,' I answered; I had heard him say as much.

'Yes… oh, yes. It is Arthur she fears. His power waxes greater in this worlds-realm and she cannot abide that. For Arthur's power to grow greater, hers must decrease. And that is the thing most hateful to her.

'She fears Arthur, yes. But more she fears me. For I am the one who upholds Arthur in his power. This is the way of it: such power as Arthur has is my own. Without me he would fail, for he is not strong enough yet to stand alone. So, if she would conquer Arthur, she must first destroy me. And she is ravenous with hatred and fear.

'By reason of this driving fear, I determined, she had destroyed the Fair Folk settlement. Why? Because out of the remnant of Atlantis' lost children will come her doom. It is true. This much I have seen – though in essence only; I know not its form.

'Therefore she must destroy all the Fair Folk if she is to save herself. In the same way, I weened, she must soon move against Avallach and Charis at the Tor – as she had moved against the Fair Folk in Broceliande, and against Belyn in Llyonesse. She must destroy them all if she is to earn a measure of rest from her unrelenting fear. And again, she must also destroy me.

'A poisoned draught and a knife – but Pelleas prevented it. That was a clumsy, childish attempt. No credit to me, it nearly succeeded – for the obvious fact that I expected more from the Supreme Bitch Goddess than infantile trickery.

'That in itself is a riddle. But the answer is perfectly simple. Pelleas and I once stood within the very circle of her power, yet we had not been destroyed. Why? I will tell you: she had not the strength to do it. It was a lie! Everything about her is a lie! She could enchant, she could charm and beguile; but she could not destroy outright. I tell you she could not, or surely she would have done so.'

Myrddin seemed to forget who was there with him and imagined instead that it was Pelleas. It did not matter. I was fascinated by all he said. For I heard in his words the veiled brightness of truth too dazzling for utterance.

'How stupid I have been! Like so much else about Morgian, the depth of her vaunted power was a lie! Yet, in all events, it was sufficient to the task. And it had grown more potent of late. Broceliande was the first warning of what was to come.