"I am glad, now! I was the only warrior in Eihne who did not die fighting for the princess, and now I redeem that shame."
Silver moon-mists and vague islands rushed past, as they sped on and on toward the north. Soon there were no more islands to be glimpsed, only the spectral sea over whose low wave-crests the slim boat ran headlong.
Hours passed, Cullan saw the Tuathan constantly consult instruments in the stern and guessed that Goban was correcting and checking their course toward Mruun. They had already come a great distance, he knew.
The mists began to grow thicker, darker, colder. A chill that he had not before experienced on this world entered Brian Chilian's flesh from the wind. And ever darker, heavier, became the shrouding haze.
"We draw near toward Mruun!" Goban called finally. "Soon we may glimpse the cursed island."
Cullan's hopes flared up exultant. But the Tuathan added warning. "By now, they'll have missed us at the citadel. And Lugh can follow swiftly."
A bare few minutes later, there came such a sharp and startled cry from Goban, that Cullan whirled quickly around.
Tall and somber in his silver mail and helmet, staring at them in stern accusation, Lugh stood in the speeding boat with them.
Cullan suddenly understood. "Lugh's image! The shape-sending—"
"Aye, it is how I have followed you," Lugh said harshly. He threateningly raised his arm, on which glittered the bracelei-sliaped weapon that could loose lightning destruction. "Turn back at once toward Thandara!"
"I'll not turn back!" flamed Brian Cullan. "You can kill me, but while I live, I'm going on to Fand."
Lugh slowly lowered his arm. "I shall not kill you, for you are valuable in our struggle against Tethra in a way you do not know."
He added sternly, "But you shall not reach Mruun. I thought you would defy me, and so when we missed you I sent Dagda after you."
The image of Lugh vanished abruptly with that ominous warning, withdrawn by that shape-sending science he had used to overtake them.
Goban's voice was appalled. "Dagda and his warriors pursuing us? And their craft is far faster than this one!"
"They'll not dare pursue us into Mruun itself," Cullan encouraged. "If we can reach the Fomorian city in time—"
Their Tuathan boat could not go faster, since already it was racing over the sea at its highest speed. Anxiously each few minutes now they peered back into the darkening mists, but saw no pursuers.
Another hour passed thus, and another, Then far and high in the cold, dark mists ahead, Cullan descried gleams of dull ocher light. Beneath those lights bulkad vaguely the black battlements of lofty cliffs.
"Black Mruun at last!" he exulted. "We'll steal in below the cliffs and then—"
"Dagda comes!" yelled Goban, pointing backward.
Out of the mists behind them was emerging the spectral shape of a rushing
