nt towards it,
it opened slowly, and the King of the Land of Mist stood there--as high,
as stone-faced, and as scornful as before, and in his hand he had a
weighty gray sword.

They fought as they fought the day before. But the guard the King of
Ireland's Son made against the sword of the King of the Land of Mist was
weaker than before, because of the pain and weariness that came from his
wound. But still he kept the Sword of Light before him and the Sword of
the King of the Land of Mist could not pass it. They fought until it was
afternoon. The heart in his body seemed turned to a jet of blood that
would gush forth. His eyes were straining themselves out of their
sockets. His arms could hardly bear up his sword. He fell down upon one
knee, but he was able to hold the sword so that it guarded his head.

Then the image of Fedelma appeared before him. He sprang up and his arms
regained their power. His heart became steady in his breast. And as he
made an attack upon the King of the Land of Mist, he saw that the blade
in his hand was broken and worn because of its strokes against the Sword
of Light.

They fought with blades that seemed to kindle each other into sparks and
flashes of light. They fought until the blade in the hand of the King of
the Land of Mist was worn to a hand breadth above the hilt. He drew
back towards the gate of the fifth courtyard. The King of Ireland's Son
sprang at him and thrust the Sword of Light through his breast. Down on
the stones before the fifth gate of his Castle fell the King of the Land
of Mist.

The King of Ireland's Son stepped over the body and went towards the
fifth gate. Then he remembered what the Glashan had said, "His life is
in his head." He went back to where the King of the Land of Mist had
fallen. With a clean sweep of his sword he cut the head off the body.

Then out of the mist that was all around three ravens came. With beak
and claws they laid hold of the head and lifted it up. They fluttered
heavily away, keeping near the ground.

With his sword in his hand the King of Ireland's Son chased the ravens.
He followed them through the fourth courtyard, the third courtyard, the
second and the first. They flew off the rock on which the Castle was
built and disappeared in the mist.

He knew he would have to watch by the body of the King of the Land of
Mist, so that the head might not be placed upon it. He sat down before
the fifth gate. Pain and weariness, hunger and th