Egir's bull voice could be heard raging, trying to rally them, but in vain.
The men of Jotan who had lighted and flung the new weapons were as horrified as their victims. Khal Kan's yell aroused them.
"Horses, and after them!" he cried. "Now is our chance to avenge yesterday!"
The gates ground open—and every horsemen left in jotan galloped out after Khal Kan and Golden Wings in pursuit of the routed, green men.
The Bunts made hardly any effort to turn and fight They were madly intent on putting as great a distance as possible between them and Jotan.
"It's Egir I'm after!" Khal Kan cried to Brusul. "While he lives, no safety for Jotan!"
"See—there he rides!" cried Golden Wings' silvery voice.
Khal Kan yelled and put spur to his horse as he saw Egir and his Bunt captains riding full tilt toward the Dragals, in an effort to escape.
They rode right through the Seeing Bunts in pursuit of the traitor. They were overtaking him, when Egir turned and saw them coming. The Jotanian renegade uttered a yell, and he and his green captains turned.
"'Ware arrows!" shouted Brusul, behind Khal Kan.
Khal Kan saw the Bunts loosing the vicious shafts, but he saw it only vaguely, for only Egir's sardonic face was clear to him as he charged.
Sword out, he galloped toward his uncle. Something stung his arm, and he heard a scream from Golden Wings and knew an arrow had hit him.
"My dear nephew, you've two minutes to live!" panted Egir, his eyes blazing hate and triumph as they met and their swords clashed. "You're a dead man now—"
Khal Kan felt a cold, deadly numbness creeping through his arm with incredible rapidity. He summoned all his fast-flowing strength to swing his sword up.
It left his guard open and Egir stabbed viciously as their horses wheeled. Then Khal Kan's nerveless arm brought his blade down.
"This for my father, Egir!"
The sword shore the traitor's shoulder and neck half through. And a moment after Egir dropped from the saddle, Khal Kan felt his own numb body falling. He could not feel the impact with the ground.
His mind was darkening and everything was spinning around. It was as though he whirled in a black funnel, and was being sucked down into its depths, yet he could still hear voices of those bending over him.
"Khal Kan!" That was Golden Wings, he knew.
He tried to speak up to them out of the roaring darkness that was engulfing him.
"Jotan—safe now, with Egir gone. The kingship to Brusul. Golden Wings—"
He could not form more words. Khal Kan knew that he was dying. But he knew, at last, that Thar was not a dream, for even though his own life was passing, nothing around him was vanishing. But, his darkening brain wondered, if That had been real all the time—
But then, in a flash of light on the very verge of darkness, Khal Kan saw the truth that neither he nor the other had ever imagined. . . .
Henry Stevens lay dead upon his bed in the neat bedroom of his little suburban cottage. And in the room, his sobbing wife was trying to tell her story to the physician and the psychiatrist.
"It was all so sudden," she sobbed. "I awoke, and found that Herry was clenching his fists as though in a convulsion and was shouting—something about Jotan being safe now. And then—he was dead—"
The physician was soothing her as he
