"It hath been laid upon me," said Mochaen, "to prevent this thing."
Then Brian and Mochaen drew sword and fell furiously upon each other,
and their fighting was like that of two hungry lions or two wild
bulls, until at last Brian drove his sword into the throat of Mochaen,
and he died.
With that the Sons of Mochaen and the Sons of Turenn rushed fiercely
upon each other. Long and sore was the strife that they had, and the
blood that fell made red the grassy place wherein they fought. Not one
of them but received wounds that pierced him through and through, and
that heroes of less hardihood had died of a score of times. But in the
end the sons of Mochaen fell, and Brian, Iuchar, and Iucharba lay over
them in a swoon like death.
After a while Brian's senses came back to him, and he said, "Do ye
live, dear brothers, or how is it with you?" "We are as good as dead,"
said they; "let us be."
"Arise," then said Brian, "for truly I feel death coming swiftly upon
us, and we have yet to give the three shouts upon the hill."
"We cannot stir," said Iuchar and Iucharba. Then Brian rose to his
knees and to his feet, and he lifted up his two brothers while the
blood of all three streamed down to their feet, and they raised their
voices as best they might, and gave three hoarse cries upon the Hill
of Mochaen.
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