Almost in the same instant, the others died. They died as silently as
they had lived, except for one simultaneous thought of agony that came
clearly to the humans' minds.
Kimball Trent leaped past the bulk of the first slain Gharrian, closed
the switches on the motors. Slowly they stopped, grew silent.
Without a word, Trent switched on the motors again, then raced at
Lura's side from the room. Behind, the motors began their keening song
again.
They found the outer door without trouble, guided by a supernal
instinct that needed no voluntary thought. Trent threw the great bar
and they raced outside, going toward the slope from which they had
attacked the Gharrians hours before.
They heard Korm's great voice cry out, and relief gave strength to
their flying legs. Then the blond giant was at their side, and behind
him they saw the hundreds who had followed his leadership.
"Run!" Trent panted. "The tower will blow within seconds."
Then the motors exploded, lifting the tower in shattered fragments,
blowing to dust the place that had been one of the Gharrians'
strongholds. Flames leaped a mile into the air, fed by the ruptured
atomic motors, spreading crimson light like the wave of a rock dropped
into a still pond. The concussion passed, and all was still, the column
of brilliance still leaping and pulsing into the night.
And watching the flame, his arm tight about the slender shoulders of
Lura, was Kimball Trent, the man who had lived five hundred years to
save his doomed world. He held her tightly, and the hope in his heart
was a singing melody that crept into his mind, tangling his thoughts.
"Call the Elder," he said to grinning Korm. "I have a story to tell of
a new home for all of us. And"--his voice grew strong, rang like that
of a prophet--"of a weapon we can make that the Gharrians cannot fight."
Then he and Lura stood alone in a night that was a dream and they
the dreamers. The first streamers of dawn were coming in the sky,
foretelling of the new day that was coming to their world.
* * * * *
[Transcriber's Note: No section V heading in original text.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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