“Are they beaten already?” whispered Owl. “No, they can’t be!”
Many yards of empty distance from the battle, the Dalesmen halted and wheeled about. Pikes reached through their massed lines, swords and axes swung free and bowmen and slingers loped in the rear. Ralph lifted his sword and plunged forward. His men poured after him, yelling.
The Dalesmen who had been standing off the foe suddenly sprang aside, crowding against the walls on either hand. Carl saw what his father’s idea was, and he shouted with the men as that massed charge struck the Lann.
The four hundred men running together struck a terrible blow whose hammer-noise trembled in the earth and lifted up to heaven. Pikes were driven like battering-rams, smashing through all defenses to shatter the first barbarian lines. Those behind reeled from the shock, forcing their own rearward men farther back. A gray storm of arrows rained on the suddenly confused Lann army, and the hewers of the Dales thundered against them and hurled them into each other.
For long moments, the struggle went on; the Lann in retreat before the smashing, sundering Dalesmen, their ranks crumpled, panic running blindly among them. They had been shaken by powers of magic; they had been made leaderless; they had been assailed by an enemy they thought safely bottled up. It was too much!
With a single mob howl of utter dismay, the Lann turned and fled.
The Dalesmen pursued them, smiting without mercy, taking revenge for all the bitterness they had suffered. Battle snarled past the time vault, turning to butchery, and went on down the street and lost itself in the forest as the Lann scattered.
Carl sprang from the wall into Ralph’s path. “Father!” he cried. “Father, you came!”
“Oh, Carl, my son, my son—” The Chief dismounted and embraced him in trembling arms.
Night came, with stars and moon and a singing darkness. Men pitched camp in the ruins and slept for utter exhaustion. To the wounded, Lann and Dale alike, the gentle night gave rest and forgetfulness; over the dead it drew a shroud. The moon swam high in a winking sea of stars, touching leaves and old walls with a ghostly silver.
Peace-Some were still awake, sitting about the hearth in Ronwy’s home. A fire crackled before them, the light of candles touched their faces and shone in their eyes. Ralph was there, sprawled in a seat of honor with his sword across his knees. Carl sat by him, holding one of Ronwy’s books in his lap and stroking its faded cover with shy fingers. Tom and Owl, the former insisting that his wounds were mere scratches, lay on the rug. Lenard, his head swathed in bandages, sat gloomily in a corner. The little witch-man, Gervish, who had followed Ralph to the City, hovered about trying to be of service to someone.
Ralph was telling the story of his arrival. “Even if you haven’t won anything else, boys, you saved us by drawing off a thousand of the best Lann,” he told them. “When I saw them go away, I was sure they were bound for the City. I waited till they were safely distant, then led all our men out against those who remained.
And this time we won! We broke them in the field. When their Chief fell, they scattered before us. Now they’re streaming homeward, beaten, harried by our forces just so they won’t get ideas about turning back. We’ve won!”
“My father,” said Lenard dully. “He’s dead?”
“Yes,” said Ralph.
“I—I’m sorry,” whispered Carl.
“Oh—I’ll see him again—in Sky-Home after I die.” Lenard tried to smile. “That makes me Chief of the Lann, doesn’t it? A prisoner Chief—” He bowed his head, then looked up with a sigh. “But I may be better off this way. This defeat may well break up the confederation….”
Ralph went on: “Well, our folk were naturally full of glee and ready to lick the world. I took advantage of that—made them a speech pointing out that a thousand warriors were still loose up in the City, perhaps brewing magic against us and in any case nothing we wanted running free in the Dales. I got enough lads to follow me so I thought we’d have a chance. We hurried, I can tell you! We killed horses and nearly killed ourselves, but it was worth it.”
“The taboo?” breathed Carl.
“Donn came with us. I thought you knew that.” Ralph looked keenly at his son. “Never thought the old fellow could match the pace we were setting, but he did. I left him talking to your friend Ronwy, and—” He looked at the door. “And here they are!”
The two old men entered, side by side. Donn paused in the doorway, looking beyond the chamber to a dream. An almost holy light shone in his eyes.
“I have been in the vault,” he whispered. “I have seen the treasure there, looked at the high-piled wisdom of the books. I have read the words of that unknown who gave it to us, and I have talked with this wise one here—” He shook his head, and a smile hovered about his thin lips. “There is no evil in the vault. There is only evil in the hearts of men. Knowledge, all knowledge, is good.”
“Then you’ll lift the taboo?” cried Carl joyously.
“I shall urge the Council to do so, and I know they will. Afterward, Carl, you shall have whatever help the Doctors can give out of their little wisdom, to rebuild the old world as you have longed.” Donn’s smile became almost a grin.
“Even if I myself wouldn’t admit my error, which I freely do, four hundred lusty Dalesmen who’ve been to this place of wonder and come to no harm would have something to say about it!”
It was as if a great brooding presence were suddenly gone, as if the wandering night breeze sobbed in a new loneliness. The gods were doomed—the cruel, old pagan gods of human fear and human ignorance felt their twilight upon them. And the darkness which dwells in every mortal heart cried out to the dying gods.
Gervish was kneeling at Ronwy’s feet. “Forgive us,” he murmured brokenly. “We were wrong, all of us were wrong. The Lann from whom we sought aid would have ruined us. The Dalesmen, your friends, saved us; and the magic is not evil. Be our Chief again!”
Ronwy lifted him. “Let there be no talk of forgiveness,” he smiled. “We’ve too much to do even to remember the past, let alone judge it. But bear this in mind, Gervish, and tell it to the people: We of the City will be among the first to benefit from the released powers. Above all, the lifting of the taboo makes us a tribe like any other, who can walk like men instead of shunned and hated outcasts.”
Lenard spoke with sadness. “It seems that everyone but my poor Lann will gain from this.” A dark flash of menace: “They’ll come back someday!”
Ralph shook his head. “I don’t know what to do about you people,” he said. “It’s true, I suppose, that you were driven by great need to attack us. But the same force will drive you against the south once more, and once again after that. If we are not to be plagued by endless wars-what can we do?”
“The vault is the answer!” cried Carl eagerly. “Look, Lenard, there are plans and models in it designed for the use of people like ourselves, people who can’t hope to master the greatest of the ancient powers for many years yet. There are things we can do and build right now!”
“Such as what?” challenged Lenard. Despite himself, there was a quickening in his own voice.
“Oh, many things. For example, there’s something called a schooner, which can sail against the wind—yes, I know it sounds fantastic, but I’m willing to try! They’ll at least sail rings around the clumsy luggers the coastal tribes use today. Make them big enough, and you Lann can open trade, fisheries—why, even new lands to colonize! Then there are ways to use wind power for grinding grain, when you don’t happen to have water power handy; and the rules by which you can breed better plants and animals; and means to prevent some of the diseases that now scourge us all. Oh, it’s a long list, and I’ll bet we find a lot more in that vault when we get it really well explored.”