He dropped to one knee and sucked at the thin, frigid air. His vision was cloudy and his head felt light. But there _was_ something moving on the plain. A shadowy cavalcade. * * * * * Strange monstrous men on fantastic war-mounts, long spears and fluttering pennons. Huge golden chariots with scythes flashing on the circling hubs and armored giants, the figments of a long remembered dream---- He dropped to the sand and dug his hands into the dry powdery soil. He could scarcely see now, for blackness was flickering at the edges of his vision and his failing heart and lungs were near collapse. _Kimmm-eee!_ A huge green warrior on a gray monster of a thoat was beckoning to him. Pointing toward the low hills on the oddly near horizon. _Kimmmm-eeeee!_ The voice was thin and distant on the icy wind. Kimball knew that voice. He knew it from long ago in the Valley Dor, from the shores of the Lost Sea of Korus where the tideless waters lay black and deep---- He began stumbling across the empty, lifeless plain. He knew the voice, he knew the man, and he knew the hills that he must reach, quickly now, or die. They were the hills of home. +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note and Errata | | | | This etext was produced from "Future Science Fiction" No. 30 | | 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that | | the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. | | | | The following errors have been corrected: | | | | Error Correction | | cooly coolly | | fantasic fantastic | +--------------------------------------------------------------+