Apparently she had awakened, and had arisen from her hard couch.
Elak's hand went up in a warning gesture, commanding silence, but it was too late. The girl said,
"Who are you? Zend kidnapped me—are you come to set me free? Where―"
With a bound Elak reached her, dragged her back, thrust her up the stairway. His rapier flashed in his hand. Over his shoulder he cast a wolfish smile.
"If we live, you'll escape Zend and his magic," he told the girl, hearing an outbrust of sibilant cries and the rushing murmur of the attacking horde. Yet he did not turn. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Coryllis."
"'Ware, Elak!" Lycon shouted.
Elak turned to see the little man's sword flash out, shearing a questing tentacle in two. The severed end dropped, writhing and coiling in hideous knots. The frightful devil–masks of monsters glared into Elak's eyes. The children of Dagon came sweeping in a resistless rush^ cold eyes glazed and glaring, tentacles questing, iridescent bodies shifting and pulsing like jelly—and Elak and Lycon and the girl, Coryllis, were caught by their fearful wave and forced back, up the staircase.
Snarling inarticulate curses, Lycon swung his sword, but it was caught and dragged from his hand by a muscular tentacle. Elak tried to shield Coryllis with his own body; he felt himself going down, smothering beneath the oppressive weight of cold, hideous bodies that writhed and twisted with dreadful life. He struck out desperately—and felt a hard, cold surface melting like snow beneath his hands.
The weight that held him down was dissipating— the things were retreating, flowing back, racing and flopping and tumbling down the stairs, shrieking an insane shrill cry. They blackened and melted into shapeless puddles–of sHme that trickled like a Httle gray stream down the stairway….
Elak realized what had happened. A rose–red light was glowing in the air all about him. The wizard had repaired his magic globe, and the power of its rays was destroying the nightmare menace that had crept up from the deeps.
In a heartbeat it was over. There was no trace of the horde that had attacked them. Gray puddles of ooze—no more. Elak realized that he was cursing softly, and abruptly changed it to a prayer. With great earnestness he thanked Ishtar for his deliverance.
Lycon recovered his sword, and handed Elak his rapier. "What now?" he asked.
"We're off! We're taking Coryllis with us—there's no need to linger here. True, we helped the wizard— but we fought him first. He may remember that. There's no need to test his gratefulness, and we'd be fools to do it."
He picked up Coryllis, who had quietly fainted, and quickly followed Lycon down the steps. They hurried across the great room and into the depths of the corridor beyond.
And five minutes later they were sprawled at full length under a tree in one of San–Mu's numerous parks. Elak had snatched a silken robe from a balcony as he passed beneath, and Coryllis had draped it about her slim body. The stars glittered frostily overhead, unconcerned with the fate of Atlantis—stars that would be shining thousands of years hence when Atlantis was not even a memory.
No thought of this came to Elak now. He wiped his rapier with a tuft of grass, while Lycon, who had already cleaned his blade, stood up and, shading his eyes with his palm, peered across the park. He muttered something under his breath and set off at a steady lope. Elak stared after him.
"Where's he going? There's a—by Ishtar! He's going in a grog shop. But he has no money. How―"
A shocked thought came to him, and he felt hastily in his wallet. Then he cursed. "The drunken little ape! When he slashed my bonds^ in the wizard's palace, he stole the purse! I'll—"
Elak sprang to his feet and took a stride forward. Soft arms gripped his leg. He looked down. "Eh?"
"Let him go," Coryllis said, smiling. "He's earned his mead."
"Yes—but what about me? I—"
"Let him go," Coryllis murmured….
And, ever after that, Lycon was to wonder why Elak never upbraided him about the stolen purse.