On the steps of Bel's Temple--on their way to Bel's idol--he and his fellows sank in a horrid dissolution, with a grotesquely terrible twitching of tortured bodies, a tossing of arms and limbs. They fell and, driven by their own contortions, dropped one by one from step to step among the lapping flames. Above them stood Kalamita--Priestess of Adita--stood as one wholly bereft of motion, until suddenly she shrieked in a voice that rang from end to end of the temple, turned to flee, and shrieked again, and fell forward, beating at her body--and Gor, casting aside the child on its ebon cushion, leaped down and caught her writhing figure in his arms. "Enough--enough!" Croft flashed the signal upward, and started running off between the pillars to reach the further tier of steps from whence still rang the screams of Kalamita. And as he ran he drew his sword, and went on clutching it in a tightly gripping hand. "After him! Seize Bandhor, Panthor, and the woman. Hold them! Preserve the child!" Helmor roused from the fear that had held him impotent in the presence of Zollaria's now discredited god. The guard leaped to obey the order. Croft heard the pound of their feet behind him and ran on. A hundred feet, two, three. The fires below him having naught to feed them, were burning themselves out. He reached the tier of steps down which Ptah and his fellows had gone to their death. Bandhor and Panthor stood there, and Gor--his mistress's screams now sunk to moanings--her once lovely body marked by angry scars where the spattering liquid fire had sprayed from the lower steps and struck her, yet held a white, jeweled shape against his mighty breast. Toward them, still with his naked sword in his hand, he made his way. Behind him came Helmor's guard. And yet--as he advanced, oddly enough Croft gave little attention to them. His eyes seemed centered beyond all other purpose, on the shape of the ebon cushion Gor had cast from him ere he leaped to Kalamita's aid--that cushion beside which, wholly unheeded, lay the form of Jason, Son of Jason--his child. Then as he stooped to raise him in hands that trembled, the guard flung themselves on the two men. "Back," Bandhor suddenly thundered. "Back, men of Zollaria! It is thy commander speaking." And Helmor, bursting through the faltering soldiery, answered, "Nay, not so, Bandhor, thou traitor, any longer--not thou or Panthor, but Helmor rules still in Berla. Seize him--and lead him to the palace, there to stand trial with Panthor for his treason." Again the guard surged forward, closing about Bandhor and Helmor's cousin, and Croft found a slender form hurled swiftly against him, white hands clinging to him--the purple eyes of Naia of Aphur, lighted with the wild, sweet fires of fulfilled yearning, lifted to him across the body of the child. His heart too surcharged for words, he smiled upon her and laid Jason, Son of Jason, in her arms.