I broke into a run. The golden pygmy followed me, shrilling, javelins in left hand, sickle–sword in right. We came to the gate to the temple road.
There were three or four hundred soldiers awaiting me. Mounted—and every one a woman. I threw myself on a horse Dara held for me, swung Sri up on the saddle. We raced toward the temple.
We were half–way there when out from the trees that bordered the temple road poured the white wolves. They sprang from the sides like a white torrent, threw themselves upon the riders. They checked our rush, our horses stumbled, falling over those the fangs of the wolves had dropped in that swift, unexpected ambuscade; soldiers falling with them, ripped and torn by the wolves before they could struggle to their feet. We milled among them—horses and men and wolves in a whirling, crimson–flecked ring.
Straight at my throat leaped the great dog–wolf, leader of Lur's pack, green eyes naming. I had no time for sword thrust. I caught its throat in my left hand, lifted it and flung it over my back. Even so, its fangs had struck and gashed me.
We were through the wolves. What was left of them came coursing behind us. But they had taken toll of my troop.
I heard the clang of an anvil…thrice stricken…the anvil of Tubalka!
God! It was true…Lur in the temple…and Evalie…and Khalk'ru!
We swept up to the door of the temple. I heard voices raised in the ancient chant. The entrance swarmed…It bristled with swords of the nobles, women and men.
"Ride through them, Dara! Ride them down!"
We swept through them like a ram. Sword against sword, hammers and battleaxes beating at them, horses trampling them.
The shrill song of Sri never ceased. His javelin thrust, his sickle–sword slashed.
We burst into Khalk'ru's temple. The chanting stopped. The chanters arose against us; they struck with sword and axe and hammer at us; they stabbed and hacked our horses; pulled us down. The amphitheatre was a raging cauldron of death…
The lip of the platform was before me. I spurred my horse to it, stood upon its back and leaped upon the platform. Close to my right was the anvil of Tubalka; beside it, hammer raised to smite, was Ouarda. I heard the roll of drums, the drums of Khalk'ru's evocation. The backs of the priests were bent over them.
In front of the priests, the ring of Khalk'ru raised high, stood Lur.
And between her and the bubble ocean of yellow stone that was the gate of Khalk'ru, fettered dwarfs swung two by two in the golden girdles…
Within the warrior's ring—Evalie!
The Witch–woman never looked at me; she never looked behind her at the roaring cauldron of the amphitheatre where the soldiers and nobles battled.
She launched into the ritual!
Shouting, I rushed on Ouarda. I wrested the great sledge from her hands. I hurled it straight at the yellow screen…straight at the head of Khalk'ru. With every ounce of my strength I hurled that great hammer.
The screen cracked! The hammer was thrown back from it…fell.
The Witch–woman's voice went on…and on…never faltering.
There was a wavering in the cracked screen. The Kraken floating in the bubble ocean seemed to draw back…to thrust forward…
I ran toward it…to the hammer.
An instant I halted beside Evalie. I thrust my hands through the golden girdle, broke it as though it had been wood. I dropped my sword at her feet.
"Guard yourself, Evalie!"
I picked up the hammer. I raised it. The eyes of Khalk'ru moved… they glared at me, were aware of me…the tentacles stirred! And the paralysing cold began to creep round me…I threw all my will against it.
I smashed the sledge of Tubalka against the yellow stone…again… and again—
The tentacles of Khalk'ru stretched toward me!
There was a crystalline crashing, like a lightning bolt striking close. The yellow stone of the screen shattered. It rained round me like sleet driven by an icy hurricane. There was an earthquake trembling. The temple rocked. My arms fell, paralysed. The hammer of Tubalka dropped from hands that could no longer feel it. The icy cold swirled about me …higher…higher…there was a shrill and dreadful shrieking…
For an instant the shape of the Kraken hovered where the screen had been. Then it shrank. It seemed to be sucked away into immeasurable distances. It vanished.
And life rushed back into me!
There were jagged streamers of the yellow stone upon the rocky floor…black of the Kraken within them…I beat them into dust…
"Leif!"
Evalie's voice, shrill, agonized. I swung round. Lur was rushing upon me, sword raised. Before I could move Evalie had darted between us, flung herself in front of the Witch–woman, struck at her with my own sword.
The blade of Lur parried the stroke, swept in…bit deep…and Evalie fell…Lur leaped toward me…I watched her come, not moving, not caring…there was blood upon her sword…Evalie's blood…
Something like a flash of light touched her breast. She halted as though a hand had thrust her back. Slowly, she dropped to her knees. She sank to the rock.
Over the rim of the platform leaped the dog–wolf, howling as it ran. It hurled itself straight at me. There was another flash of light. The dog–wolf somersaulted and fell—in mid–leap.
I saw Sri, crouching. One of his javelins was in Lur's breast, the mate to it in the dog–wolf's throat…I saw the golden pygmy running to Evalie…saw her rise, holding a hand to a shoulder from which streamed blood…
I walked toward Lur, stiffly, like an automaton. The white wolf tried to stagger to its feet, then crawled to the Witch–woman, dragging itself on its belly. It reached her before I did. It dropped its head upon her breast. It turned its head, and lay glaring at me, dying.
The Witch–woman looked up at me. Her eyes were soft and her mouth had lost all cruelty. It was tender. She smiled at me.
"I wish you had never come here, Yellow–hair!"
And then—
"Ai—and—Ai! My Lake of the Ghosts!"
Her hand crept up, and dropped on the head of the dying wolf, caressingly. She sighed—
The Witch–woman was dead.
I looked into the awed faces of Evalie and Dara. "Evalie—your wound—"
"Not deep, Leif…Soon it will heal…it does not matter…"
Dara said:
"Hail—Dwayanu! It is a great thing you have done this day!"
She dropped on her knees, kissed my hand. And now I saw that those of mine who had survived the battle in the temple had come up on the platform, and were kneeling—to me. And that Ouarda lay beside Tubalka's anvil, and that Sri too was on his knees, staring at me, eyes filled with worship.
I heard the tumult of the drums of the Little People…no longer on Nanbu's far side…in Karak…and closer.
Dara spoke again:
"Let us be going back to Karak, Lord. It is now all yours to rule."
I said to Sri:
"Sound your drum, Sri. Tell them that Evalie lives. That Lur is dead. That the gate of Khalk'ru is closed forever. Let there be no more killing."
Sri answered:
"What you have done has wiped out all war between my people and Karak. Evalie and you we will obey. I will tell them what you have done."
He swung the little drum, raised his hands to beat it I stopped him.
"Wait, Sri, I shall not be here to obey."
Dara cried: "Dwayanu—you will not leave us!"
"Yes, Dara…I go now to that place whence I came…I do not return to Karak. I am done with the Little People, Sri."
Evalie spoke, breathlessly:
"What of me—Leif?"
I put my hands on her shoulders, looked into her eyes:
"Last night you whispered that you would go with me, Evalie. I release you from that promise…I am thinking you would be happier here with your small folk…"