"Myrddin! Duck!" Peredur shouted from the bow of the ship as he looked back.

Myrddin dropped down without turning and kept his hand on the tiller.

Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk! Half a dozen flint-tipped javelins struck the oaken deck.

"They're in range again, Perry! Time to discourage our pursuers again."

"Aye! And for the ten-thousandth time, stop calling me Perry." Fear and fatigue fought for dominance inside Peredur. It was only the threat of death that kept him awake and alert.

Peredur grabbed his heavy bow and quiver and moved back to the stern. The ship rolled in the gentle sapphire swells, and golden sunlight flashed off the faceted surface. He looked up at the clear, painfully blue sky, then back to the sparkling surface of the inland sea, surrounded by Avalon's verdant shores and rocky white cliffs. The air smelled sweet like springtime, and birds darted this way and that. It was too beautiful a day to die.

In fact, the only thing unpleasant was Peredur's own rank smell. A week of fleeing without a chance to wash had left him slimy, with old sweat thick in his filthy underclothing. His long black hair hung in dank and dirty tangles. And he itched. But he wasn't going to let the enemy get close enough to care.

"Ship looks like a bloody hedgehog. It does," Peredur groused. The weathered wood was thick with a hedge of javelins.

"Most fortunate we are not punctured," Myrddin countered. "Now, hurry before we are."

"I am not liking this, look you. This is their country, not ours." Peredur grumbled as he passed Myrddin.

"True, Sir Peredur. If your comrades had acted more with the love of Christ, instead of like angry bears, we wouldn't be fleeing! Now, give them a scare before they loft another volley!"

"Aye. But still, I will try not to kill any of the Degurs."

Three long boats made of hollowed trees pursued them. Men clad in badly cut animal skins paddled on both sides of each. The Degurs were not tall but broad and muscular. Their mops of reddish hair reminded Peredur of the Celts to the north back home.

The dugouts were faster than the thirty-foot longship Peredur and Myrddin were struggling to handle. Just the two of us left, Peredur thought as he focused on the center of the lead dugout. Three Degurs stood in the center of each boat with their spears and throwing sticks.

Peredur knocked an arrow and drew back, looking with both eyes at his target. He'd aim for their feet. That ought to do it. He could always shoot to kill if the Degurs got too close.

A deep breath, and he loosed six shafts in as many seconds. Two arrows struck into each of the three dugouts, which made the standing Degurs dance. Their paddlemen slowed, dropping back with a great volume of resounding shouts and yells.

"You're a good man, Perry. You did not hit a one."

"My thanks. And I think they got our message. You can stand now and stop peering over the boat edge."

"A little more respect for your elder, Sir Knight!"

Myrddin started to stand, squawked, and fell. A javelin had pinned part of his long robes to the deck. He yanked at the cloth to no avail and muttered under his breath. Peredur came over and drew the offending dart out of the oak and Myrddin's clothing.

"Of course, oh venerable one," Peredur smirked. "And will you be telling me again of the wonders and splendor of this land of Avalon?"

"Oh, leave it! I've heard enough of that for the last two years. So Avalon's not exactly what we expected."

"Not exactly? Look you. Not exactly?"

Myrddin shrugged, "I told you what I knew from the old stories. And I spoke no lies." He then leaned forward with a squint.

"There's the cave!" he cried.

"It's good we have a favorable wind, Myrddin. Would be no way the two of us could have rowed this ship."

The narrow vessel shot through a cave entrance into darkness and slowed as the two looked out into the sunlight.

"They're not following, Myrddin."

"Aye. The rumors and legends of this cave are in our favor."

The Degurs had stopped paddling a little more than a bowshot from the cave mouth. A few shook their heads as the three dugouts turned around and receded across the rippling waters.

"Except for the true part of the legends," Peredur whispered, drawing his sword. He took a deep breath as new fear warred with old fatigue. "Get us some light, would you?"

Myrddin lit torches and placed them in iron rings along either side of the ship. Their yellow flames gave off flickering light and greasy black smoke. Peredur looked up through burning, crusted eyes. He clamped his cracked lips together and fought the cramps that tried to gain a hold in his muscles.

A forest of leathern wings and long beaks rustled on the ceiling. The monsters were asleep.

"Stay quiet, and the demi-dragons might not awaken," Myrddin whispered.

The ship glided forward in silence, moving to a soft breeze from outside. Peredur's heart drummed in his chest, and his breath sounded loud in his ears.

Both men spoke in strident whispers.

"Just a little farther until we're past the danger, Perry. You know they won't follow past this cave."

"And I can see the tunnel's end. There!"

Myrddin turned to look and brushed against one of the Degur's javelins. It fell from the edge of the boat and clattered to the deck.

Above them, a hundred pairs of red eyes snapped open.

"What did you say about quiet, old man?" Peredur growled.

Screeching and flapping, the flyers fell on them like desperate hunger.

"Back to back!" Peredur yelled.

Myrddin thrust with his staff and swung his sword. Peredur struck about with sword and mace. Reptilian screams rebounded off the tunnel walls and pierced Peredur's ears like daggers. Dark blood and monster pieces flew everywhere. The two men felt each other's moves as they kept their backs together.

A foot-long beak full of razor teeth clamped onto Peredur's shoulder, tugging and gnawing. His collar bone creaked under the pressure, but his mail shirt kept his skin intact. He fell to the right. One knee cracked against the deck, shooting pain up to his hip. Flailing around with his sword, Peredur dropped his mace, grabbed the offending reptile by its neck, and threw it overboard.

Another fell towards his face, and sharp teeth raked his forehead. Blood ran into his eyes, blinding him. Terror wrenched at his chest and constricted his lungs as never before. Peredur lurched up. No! Not now! He would not fall now! Not at the end of the quest! Muscles and sinews screamed in silent agony as he forced his body to obey. He set his feet and pushed up with all his remaining will and strength.

"Augh!" He shouted from somewhere deep in his gut.

He planted his feet wide and kept fighting.

Suddenly there was nothing left to strike. Flapping wings and high shrieks receded behind them.

The ship left the tunnel and coasted onto a subterranean lake.

Peredur panted for breath. His sword dropped until the point stuck in the deck. "Why don't they follow past the passage?"

Myrddin sat heavily on one of the rowing benches.

"Does it matter? Just be glad of it."

The lake shone like a black mirror. Yellow stone walls and ceiling glimmered with golden warmth. Crystal shards, embedded in the rock, threw silvery reflections in all directions.

Myrddin reached out and plucked a few teeth out of Peredur's chain mail at the shoulder.

"It's fortunate you still wear your mail shirt."

"Aye. Although that's the last of my surcoat," Peredur let the tattered garment fall away.

They threw all the dragon pieces into the lake, careful to keep a distance from the surface. The water began to froth and boil. Fish, pale white like death and with mouths full of serrated teeth, tore into the offering. Now in a frenzy, many of the fish also tore into each other.

Soon, all was still and quiet again. The two men exhaled in relief.

"Only a bit more, and we can rest, Sir Peredur."

The ship crossed the vast gallery of yellow stone and silver crystals. Ahead was a rock shelf, almost like a pier, and a rising stone floor. The limits of the space were dark and vague. For the first time in a week, Peredur relaxed. The dark cavern, once foreboding, was now a sanctuary.

"I'll be more the glad of it, old man. How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?" Myrddin snapped.

"We've not had a hot meal or sleep for days. I feel one breath from death. You look like you're off for a walk across the moors back home. Do you have the magic legends say?"

Myrddin huffed. "Magic? Ha! Is it sorcery I know how to rule my own mind and body? I've had to present a formidable presence most of my tediously long life. Difficult, perhaps, but nothing unnatural."

Myrddin stood. The ship rocked slightly.

"Now then, Perry, get the ropes ready; we're almost at the stone shore."

Waves of fatigue poured over Peredur like a darkening cloud of apathy. He barely remembered tying off to crystalline pillars. Sleep covered him as he settled on the wooden deck of the ship. He had enough consciousness for one last sentence.

"Stop calling me Perry."

***

Days later, Peredur paced the stone floor of the dimly lit cavern. His boots beat a slow cadence on the smooth floor, which echoed from the limits of the rocky chamber.

"I would say it's time to go home to Britain," His voice sounded ghostly and hollow.

Myrddin sat with his elbows on a tabletop and held his head in his hands.

By Peredur's reckoning, without sight of sun, moon, or stars, they had been regaining their strength in the cavern for almost a week. When Myrddin failed to answer, Peredur continued.

"And I'm heartily sick of hard-biscuit and jerked meat."

The older man lifted his head and pointed to the caved-in tunnel just off from their ship.

"As I have said before, getting the ship out might be difficult."

Darkness shrouded the way back to Avalon. Fallen rubble blocked the passage out and back to their own world.

"I'm not being funny, oh venerable one," Peredur snarked. "Come on, old man. If we cannot take the ship, well then, we can dig ourselves out at least."

"I'll give you 'old man,' you puppy." Myrddin stood up with one hand holding his crooked staff and the other on his sword hilt. "And I'll be reminding you we are all that remains of the thirty who left Cornwall with us."

"I'll not ever forget our countrymen," Peredur snapped. "Good brothers they were. So, don't be overwrought. You might go into apoplexy or something." Peredur rubbed the wiry beard around his chin. He smiled and felt the lines crinkle around his eyes.

"Though I am thinking, I am hardly a puppy anymore."

Myrddin sighed and lowered himself onto the stone bench.

"Compared to me, Perry, you're still a pup."

"Compared to you, my grandpa's a pup. Still. Come now, you. We can dig enough of a passage for our bodies if not for our ship. And no monsters that way. Once out, we follow the river. Maybe we could trade for one of those skinny boats the people here use. It's downstream all the way to the sea. After we make the coast, perhaps another ship will come our way, and we can make passage."

"I certainly hope not! The whole point of this voyage was not only to find Avalon, but to put Arthur, Excalibur, the Grail, and the Stone, beyond the reach of men who will search for all four."

"You speak true, Myrddin. Why, then, did we not stay in Avalon? Are we to never return home?"

"Ah, Perry," Myrddin mourned. "Never? That is a long time, even for me. But we are not returning to Britain. You are. I am old, old and spent. My feet will never fall on the Blessed Isles again. You, however, must return."

"Don't be downcast. Look you. I can get you home. I will pledge it on my honor." Peredur placed a scarred hand on Myrddin's shoulder. "Besides, you were energetic enough when we fought our way in here."

"Thank you, Sir Peredur. I know you mean that. But no. After you dig your way out through the cave-in, I must seal this cavern from the inside. There is plenty of food and water to last for as long as I have left on this earth, my lad."

Myrddin stretched up, rolling his shoulders.

"My vigor is waning now," he continued. "Now, now, don't look like that. I can see my time approaching, and I will meet it in the way I choose. Or would you try to deny me that right?"

"No, I shall not. But Myrddin, why must I return? You did say 'must,' did you not? As much as I miss Britain, Avalon is a wondrous land. We could make a home there."

"Yes. You must return. You must make a record of our travels, and the resting place for Arthur, and the heirlooms of his house."

Myrddin handed Peredur a leather-bound manuscript.

"Take this. It is my journal from when we left Britain until now. Use this and write an abridgment. Destroy the journal when you are done, for there is much in it not meant for all men to read."

"My writing is not so elegant for such a task."

"That is why it must be you. Use your own language and simply write as you speak. It will be fine. You will also find guidance, I have written, on how you might gain your way back across the ocean."

"Very well. But you are not clear as to why."

"Why I wrote down directions for you?"

"No. Why I must return."

"Because the sword, the vessel, and the stone must, one day, return to our world. Arthur won't. They must."

"So, I am to leave clues for some future one to follow? So be it. You are sure that I can return to the Blessed Isles? It will be difficult alone."

"Sure enough, Sir Peredur. And your chances may be better alone."

"I will take your word for it. Although it's not like I have much choice."

Myrddin looked Peredur in the eye. "No, you don't."

Peredur turned to find a shovel amid the tools and supplies.

"I guess I better get busy then."

It took two days for Peredur to dig through to the outside. He looked around the cavern one last time. A single torch burned like a pale promise of lost sunlight. Long shadows ran out from the scattered chests and crates. Facets of crystal sparkled on the floor, wall, and ceiling. The ship was a grey blur at the edge of the obsidian lake.

Peredur lifted a large leather pack and turned to face his friend. Myrddin stood like a standing stone, a determined set to his face and stance.

"Are you sure you must stay here, Myrddin?"

"Don't start that again. Go with God, Sir Peredur. No. Speak not. I've no heart left for parting words. Listen now. You are a man of peace, Sir Peredur, which is why it is you who have survived. Unlike your lost brethren, bless them; you think not with your sword but with your head. So be slow to fight, as you always have been, and you will see the green hills of Britain once more."

"I will speak, Myrddin. And I thank you. For this quest, I would not have missed for the world. I do pledge my return, and I will complete the work you have laid on me."

With that, Peredur pushed his pack and bedroll into the tunnel and wriggled himself out.