There seemed to be two Megs; one who raced futilely, vaingloriously, toward that crouching, smirking band of attackers; the other who stood somewhere apart from the mad press, watching the battle with impartial judgment. It was the first Meg who flashed down upon a stunted yellow man unnoticed, swung her heavy sword in a flailing motion that split his hauberk and sent his headless body toppling to earth. It was the second Meg who noticed, with incredibly cool appraisal, that from the sticks of the invaders emerged two different types of light. One, a pale, greenish light, caused those bathed in it to drop their swords, cease their shouting, wander aimlessly off across the blood-drenched field. The other, a cherry-flamed light, was the horror of which the Durm Warrior, Vivyun, had warned. The attackers seemed only to use _it_ when dire necessity pressed. Its results were ghastly. Meg's brain reeled before the shock of seeing a Worker on her right run full-tilt into that cherry beam. One instant the Worker was there; the next she was gone. A sharpened hoe lay beside a blasted doll-like thing from which, momentarily, rose a steamy mist and a nauseating stench. Given weapons to match those of the yellow dwarfs the Jinnians might have won through. Their numbers were as great as those of the invaders; their spirit was that of Women fighting for their native homeland. Gallantly they pressed onward, forward--and as gallantly they died. Save for that greater portion of them who assumed the "life-in-death" Meg had marked; the stupid insanity that sent them staggering, weaponless, upon mindless errands. For conquerors, the yellow men waged stupid war. They seemed more intent on capturing prisoners than on destroying--or perhaps they had not anticipated such a stubborn resistance. Howsoever that may have been, time and again a member of the Jinnia Clan, evading the sticks-that-flamed, would pierce the enemy lines. There, ere the cherry light steamed her body into brittle stone, her sword would draw the life-blood of a yellow invader. * * * * * Meg had learned much in her long pilgrimage to and from the Place of the Gods. Daiv had taught her how to take advantage of all natural protections when warring against a superior force. These guerilla tactics served her well now. With the first conflict of forces she had sprung to a place of concealment behind the ruptured wall; from this vantage point she could see straggling invaders as they entered the village; could not be seen by them until their eyes widened at the sight of a dripping sword thirsting for their throats. Four died thus beneath her blade. Cautiously, now, she ventured a glance into the yellow men's defense line. There she saw what her quick intelligence told her must be the object of her attack. Outside the village stood a tiny knot of dwarfs garbed in armor more glittering, more ornate, than that of those who made the attack.