"A curse on you!" roared Duar through the deathly silence of the death chamber, before he realized he was cursing the object of his quest. For the light he approached was coming from the heart of the Rose of Gaon! It lay on a black table of stone, its size as large as Duar's clenched fist. A magnificent ruby of unnatural circumference, it shone clear and glowing with a life of its own, shedding supernatural rays over the dead bones of the underground tomb; the ransom of a thousand kings, but so great in its dreadful power that no human could own it without sorcery. The barbarian king stood looking upon its baleful beauty, and even as his heart surged within his breast he knew it was not for him. The demon Force struck him squarely. For the fraction of a second he was back on his heels as his sword cut only the thin air before him. Ferocious, snarling, the barbarian fought against an intangible substance he could not see, while the weight of the unknown Thing pressed about his throat until his breath came in uneven gasps. Furiously he cursed and struggled before the unseen power as weakness flowed into his veins and his muscles became lax with fatigue. His vision encompassed only the dim light of the jewel and the litter of decayed corpses about, but he battled an invisible monster of fangs and claws. Long red furrows appeared on his arms and chest, and brutal welts arose on his head and shoulders. Duar, the king, knew he was beaten, but Duar the barbarian knew that only when he died he was dead. The primitive instinct kept him upright, thrusting into the dark cloud that had risen before him with a last desperate effort. Still, he recognized doom. No mortal man could withstand the powers of the demon of the Black Tower, and well he knew it. The end was inevitable; a barbarian king would join the corpses of the underground graveyard. So Duar slashed thin air with a useless weapon and prepared to die. * * * * * A faint glimmer of sparks in motion caught his eye. They appeared at his left elbow, not close enough to interfere with sword-play. Shar! "I cannot fail you now, my lord," came the well-remembered tones he had heard in the Pits. "Even though you fight for that which is not yours and the body of another woman, I still support you and your childish desires. You cannot go in safety now unless you destroy the Rose--and the powers of the demon with it! Strike the Rose! Strike before the Hell-spawn destroys the spark in you which belongs to the Ancient One!" [Illustration: "Destroy the Rose--and the powers of the Demon with it."]