As Carras watched Eithur's body thud into the wall, many yards down the corridor the men of Enedhwin looked anxiously at one another.
"Finyref," the king said, swiftly approaching his counselor who stood silently with averted head. "I must tell you–"
"My king, wait!" cried Diabh, running to him. "Do you not hear that? There are voices and weapons ahead of us. Something is amiss."
The king hesitated and listened. "You are right," he said. "Come with me."
He hastened down the hall, the others close behind him; and he strode into the cave, and stood astounded. For he knew the figure standing before him, retreating from the tall dark man across the cave. "Carras," he gasped, and their eyes met.
A strange shame flashed through Carras' face, and urgency; and he rushed forward and bent his knee before him. His voice was hoarse with desperation. "King Eofin, though you call me disgraced forever, hear me this once. Do not doom your country to utter destruction."
King Eofin stared at him bewildered. "What mean you? Carras, you live! I am gladdened beyond my heart's knowledge – and what is this, that you speak of disgrace?"
Carras raised his head falteringly. "I–"
"My king, the man Culathan!" cried Finyref. For he was now advancing towards them, a long sword shining like ice in his hand.
"So it comes to this," said Culathan in a loud and dreadful voice, compelling the attention of all. "When subtlety fails, force must serve.
"I will slay you, O king, and all these who trail you, and I shall exert my cunning afterwards over your people instead. Not one of you shall leave this room alive – not even Carras. I shall slay him last, and he shall know that he has failed.
"Come, taste this blade. It is not much to me to kill a man."