"She will live," snapped Telis. He knew how to deal with anoxia. Long campaigns in the air forces of the Laurr had taught him. But the rest of it ... the debt to be settled with Gorla ... that was something else! His fury made him careless, and as the sled touched the sand, it almost overturned, skidding and careening over the red sand until at last it came to rest at a crazy angle on the slope of a low dune. The jet coughed and died, its nozzle jammed with sand. Quickly, Telis lifted the insensate girl in his arms and laid her on the sand at full length. For just a moment he wondered at her weight ... she seemed almost twice as heavy as she should be for her size.... Then the urgency of the moment was upon him, and he knelt at her side, placed his lips on hers and began forcing air into her lungs with his own. Presently she stirred and Telis knew with a feeling of great relief that she would recover. He wrapped her in Gorla's cloak, for the sun was sinking low and the night chill was already in the air. Then he turned to face the Priest, memory rekindling his fury. He caught the man by his cassock and pulled him close. "Now, Gorla, you'll tell me the whole story--all of it!" His voice was icy with suppressed anger. But Gorla's eyes were not on him. Instead they seemed centered on something above and behind him. The Priest's features contorted with a sudden fear, and he twisted around, pulling Telis with him. "Look out!" * * * * * The warning came too late. The sudden twist had saved Telis' life, but the flashing missile caught him in the shoulder. A searing pain blazed through Telis, and he spun around, staggered by the impact of the thrown short-sword that had pierced his shoulder. Through a dancing haze of agony, Telis could see a ragged line of naked men and women on the crest of the dune. Each carried a short-sword and a long-sword, and the bodies were filthy and covered with rank hair. Guski! A lank women lifted her arm and pitched her short-sword. It struck in the sand near Leslie Karr's prostrate body. Telis threw himself on the girl, protecting her body with his own. With pain lancing through him from the blade that still impaled him, he freed one of his swords and his stun-gun, throwing them to Gorla. Their personal quarrel was forgotten in the heat of the attack. Blood was flowing out of him. Gritting his teeth to keep from crying out, Telis twisted the imbedded sword free. With a sobbing moan he dropped it to the sand. He fought back the blackness that threatened to engulf him. Gorla must not fight alone! The Priest had sought the shelter of the air-sled and was shooting handily at the attackers on the crest. Already he had accounted for three men and a woman, and several of their companions, not knowing or caring that the stun-gun did not kill, had withdrawn from the fray to butcher the fallen ones into long strips of bloody meat which they stuffed hungrily into their mouths.