Llyr closed his eyes and opened his other senses – both physical and mental.  Immediately everything in the dark cavern became clear.  The sounds seemed louder.  He could hear the occasional drip of water and the scattering of rocks by the shoes of the bandits pursuing him.  The wall beneath his hands seemed rougher somehow.  Every nook and cranny, every sharp edge of the rock stood out in relief.  He could smell both the damp stone around him and the foul stink of the unwashed bodies of his pursuers.  The scents were so strong he could almost taste them.  Behind him the auras of the bandits glowed brightly to his inner sight. 

 They would be upon him soon.  He didn’t know exactly what they wanted but he knew – somehow – where they would be taking him.  All this information, he imprinted on the wall beneath his hands.  He prayed his friends would find it; that they would find him; that he would be rescued.  He stepped back into the arms of the bandit leader.

 The man was shocked but pleased as the deiva prince relaxed into his arms.  “Done running, boy?” he asked.  His grin showed teeth that were black and full of holes.

 “You won’t win,” Llyr murmured.  “I won’t fight you – I can’t – but you won’t win.”