'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.
'Oh, Morgian had not been idle. Gathering the scattered threads of her force, concentrating the far-flung strands of her energies, marshalling the vast, twisted array of her weaponry – this had been all her work since her failed attack on me. And she had grown mighty through it.
'Make no mistake, she meant to finish what she had begun. And that soon – before Arthur grew too powerful in the Light, before the flowering of the Summer Realm rendered her weak and harmless.
'So she must seek me out and destroy me. Once that was accomplished, there would be nothing to restrain her any more. She would grow from strength to strength as her seeds bore fruit. And her evil would be beyond imagining.
'I despaired. I tell you the truth, I did. I knew all this; I saw it all clearly, but I was powerless to prevent it. Probably I was already too late. My spirit cried within me. I wept for my weakness.
'Yet, by the courage of the Living Light, I gazed into the very shadow of despair, into the black ugly heart of the thing I have hated and feared all my life. And I saw… this I saw: glory to the Saving God, I saw that my solitary hope lay in taking the fight to her. I must be the one to confront her.
'A scant hope, you may think. But it was, I considered, the only weapon I had, and all that would be given me if I did not take it. Well, I took it. I embraced it. I tell you, I gloried in it. I prayed to the All-Wise God for the wisdom to use it well.
'Then I waited. I fasted and prayed, and when I felt the quickening of my soul I came here to this place.' By this, I think he meant the sea crag where I had found him. 'Taking no thought for myself – whether I might live or die, I tell you it did not matter any more! I would gladly give my life to banish the Darkness once for all.
'Curiously, once my feet were on the path, comfort was granted me in the form of understanding. For at last I understood that Morgian was trapped by her fear – her fear of Arthur and of me, and of the Kingdom of Summer – and she was far more desperate than she could allow anyone to know.
'Lord and Saviour, it is true! Do you see? It is the fear – the insatiable fear that is companion to great evil. She that must ever appear Sovereign of Fear, is herself its servant.
'And this is her failing. Great Light! This is her weakness! The Queen of Air and Darkness can never admit her fear, her unbearable weakness, even to herself. She must appear to hold the very power she lacks. She must seem always to possess the very thing which remains for ever beyond her grasp.
'Oh, but I have feared. Great Light, you know / have felt the terror of death and the despair of weakness. I have known failure and grief. I have borne the pitiable short-fall of frailty, yes, and the loathsome impotence of the flesh.
'I have known and endured these things. I have drained the cup that was poured out for me, and I did not thrust it aside. I understood that this was my strength. By this I would conquer.
'Do you see it now? It is beautiful, is it not? The designs of God are ever subtle, but beautiful in their subtlety… ever glorious. So be it!
'I tell you I rejoiced in this knowledge. I made it my battle song; I forged sword and shield from it. I wore it like a helm and battleshirt. And I rode to meet the trial I had avoided for so long.'
Here Myrddin paused, reached out a hand for his cup. I gave it to him and he drank. It was full dark now. The night air had turned cool. The dew would form heavy tonight, but the fire would keep us dry.
I tugged Myrddin's cloak closer about him, took the cup from his hand when he had finished, and poured more water into it. Then I settled back, pulling my own cloak round my shoulders, and I waited for Myrddin to speak again. From the branches of a nearby tree, a nightingale began its lilting-song. The voice of melancholy; sweet sorrow in melody.
As if this were the signal he had been waiting for, Myrddin began to speak again. But his voice had changed. There was sadness in his tone, and pain. A pain deep and wide as grief.
'I did not know where or how I should meet her. Nevertheless, I considered that she would know of my coming and likely would meet me before I wandered very far, for she could not abide the light that was in me. In this I was not mistaken.
'I thought it would be at night, in darkness. I trusted her to choose her element, and she did.
'In the time between times, when the veil between this worlds-realm and the next grows thin, she came to me. I had camped for the night in the ruin of an oak grove. I had slept a little, but grew restless and awoke. The moon had slipped low in the sky, but it shone enough to see by.
'She rode a black horse, and was dressed much as when we had met that day in Belyn's court: black cloak and mantle, tall black boots, long gloves, her face hidden beneath a hood. She had come alone, and this surprised me. For she certainly knew why I had come.
'She knew, but her self-deception argued for boldness, and her debauched pride exulted in her superior strength. She came alone because her vanity demanded it.
'Yet, if she was wary, she was also calm. The swarming force of her hate did not gather at once. Curiosity, I think, held it back for the moment. She could neither understand nor credit my intention. Such is her intelligence, however, that she would not attack a foe until she knew the weapons he would use.
'Of course, my weapons were unknown to her: courage, hope, faith. I displayed them fully and without guile, but she could not discern them.
'I spoke first. "So, Morgian," I said, rising as she approached. "I knew you would find me; I prayed it would be soon."
'She answered me. "You are far from home, Myrddin Wylt," she said, as she swung herself down from the saddle. I could read nothing from her tone.
'"Perhaps," I allowed. "We are both strangers here, I think."
'She rankled at my suggestion. "You flatter yourself too highly if you think we meet as equals. I am as far above your small powers as the sun above the barren earth you toil over, as high as the hawk above the flea that troubles your wretched flesh. We are not met as equals."