For many days he had trotted across
the ice field, always straining his
gaze ahead, ever seeking the figure
of the man he hunted. He was close now,
so close that he needed no longer to
stare at the ground in search of footprints.
For there ahead, revealed in the
weak sunlight of this northernmost region,
was the man, Gunthar.

Niall grinned wolfishly. Soon would
Gunthar face the death he deserved for
the attempted rape of lovely young Althia,
who was sister of Niall and daughter
of Thorkon the Mighty. In less than an
hour, Niall would be up with him, would
draw his sword and take the vengeance
that was due his family.

Niall shifted the white bearskin which
covered his side shoulders. Under that
skin he wore a mail shirt, covered by a
leather kaunake. Around his middle was
a broad leather belt from which hung a
dagger and a sword. Over his shoulder
was his horn hunting bow and a quiver of
long war arrows.

Suddenly the ground under his boots
shifted, rolled, began to rise and fall
rhythmically, as might waves of the
Cold Sea. Niall staggered and grunted.

"May the gods grant I catch him in
time," he muttered.

He ran faster, and yanked out his
sword. As though the still-distant man
heard that scrape of blade against scabbard,
he looked back. Gunthar had
moved into a passage with no exit; to one
side was the eternal ice of a mighty glacier,
to the other a massive rock wall rising
upward to an unscalable height.

It might be that Gunthar realized the
futility of further flight, for now he
stopped, turned and drew his own sword.
Niall ran toward his quarry, shouting in
exultation.

The ground still rolled and pitched, yet
Niall ran across it swiftly, balancing himself.
He was used to the plunging, churning
deck of a longboat on the Cold Sea,
and this motion of the ground was not
unlike the roll of the waves.

Gunthar waited, pale and somewhat
grim. He knew Niall, knew the ferocity of
his swordplay, understood that few men
could stand against him -- without luck.
Gunthar prayed to Loki, god of mischief,
hoping that the god would come to him
in his moment of need.

Niall hurled himself forward, lips parting
in a snarl of fury. His blade swept
around, clanged against the weapon
Gunthar lifted to parry its deadly sweep.
Steel sang. Almost instantly, Niall was
driving in again, beating back that sword
which opposed him. He drove Gunthar
back on his heels, making him give ground.

The earth shuddered beneath them.
Ice cracked. There was a muted rumble
off to one side. It was as if the very world
shared  his fury, Niall though, as he beat
down the sword which faced him.

"This is the day you die, Gunthar," he
growled.

"I did no harm to Althia," the other
panted. She screamed, and others came
to stop me. I fled..."

"You fled to your death! You know the
law! To him who transgresses against a
priestess of Frey, there is only one replay!
Death!"

The ground rolled upward, cresting
where they fought, pitching them toward
the mouth of the pass and onto softer
ground, where tall grasses gew. Niall
bellowed his war cry and raised his
sword.

"Death, Gunthar!" he roared.

His blade flashed downward. It made
an arc of light where the sunlight caught
it. It slanted into Gunthar's steel, brushed
it aside, the continued downward into
the man's neck, cleaving through flesh
and bone. Gunthar's eyes rolled up into
his head and he fell backward, mouth
open in a soundless scream.

And in that very instant -- The
ground rose, pitching Niall
forward, over the body of the
man he had been fighting. There were
the screams of tortured ice and grinding
stone. The earth shook wildly.

Niall clung to the tall grasses into
which he had been toppled. "Great Thor!
Save me!" he breathed.

Yet the earth went on quaking and rolling.
Behind him he heard stone crashing
on stone, and he listened as great
blocks of ice came free of the glacier and
plummeted to the ground nearby.

Great Wodin," he gasped. The
pass was no more. It was
blocked now with crumbled,
splintered masses of stone, with awesome
slabs of glacial ice. No one could
travel through that pass. It was closed
forever. He would not be able to return to
the stead of his parents -- at least, not
the way he had left it. He was excluded
from the home he had known for all his
seventeen years. The youth was an outcast,
thrust into a strange land.

And yet it was not the tumbled mixture
of rock and ice which caught and held
Niall's attention. There was something
else, something within the glacial ice itself.
Niall growled in his throat.

What was this thing he saw? Covered
with ice, yet it had human form. He could
see an arm, and the glint of sunlight revealed
what seemed ot be a golden bracelet
adorning that pallid arm.

Niall took a few steps forward, his flesh
crawling with wonder and readiness.

Could it be human, that which he was
staring at? Now he could see golden
hair, lighter even than his own, appearing
white rather yellow. There was
pale flesh, covered in some way by a fur
garment.

And -- blue eyes, wide open! Staring
at him!

Those eyes pleaded! They called to
him, begging!

Niall shook himself. "I dream," he murmured
to himself. "There is no woman in
that ice. And if there is -- she must be
dead! Long Dead!"

Aye! How long ago must she have
toppled into that ice? Or -- been put
there?

Was she a witch? A lamia?

No matter! For now he saw, as he
moved closer to that ice barrier, that she
was lovely, more beautiful than any
woman he had ever seen before. Her
eyes were blue, her mouth like a round,
red fruit. Her body was full, her hips
pleasantly rounded.

His hand lifted to touch the ice that
held her.

Close were her eyes now, even more
urgent the message they seemed to be
sending. Free me! free me, man of the
outer world! free me -- and know my
gratitude! It was as though her voice
whispered in his mind.

Niall raised his sword and began hacking
at the ice. Frozen chunks flew. Long
he worked, and carefully, because he did
not want to harm the white body that lay
encased in this frozen sepulchre.

For hours he worked, stabbing with
great care at the ice. After a time he
could reach around the sides of the
body, slashing with his dagger, using it
as a pick. Slowly he freed the unknown
woman.

Yet there was ice still close about her
body And now Niall paused, knowing
that if he cut deeper into the ice, he might
harm her. He turned and began cutting
some of the tall grasses, arranging them
in a pile about the icy statue.

He set fire to the grasses and watched
as the yellow flames began to lick upward.
Drops of water formed, glistened,
ran down the ice. He cut more grass,
piling it higher, growling as the water
from the melting ice dripped and put out
some of that fire.

When the fire had done its work, only a
thin coating of ice remained.

The woman's body moved slightly.
Some of the thin ice-crust cracked and
fell away. Seeing this, Niall gripped the
edge of another hunk of ice, tugged at it
until it cracked and dropped.

And then the woman moved a leg.
Both legs. Her arms lifted, freeing a hand
on which a ring glinted. Niall worked faster,
chipping away gently with his dagger
so that more and more of the ice fell
away.

First of all her body was free, an at
last the ice fell away from around her
head and shoulders.

Her blue eyes gazed upward into those
of Niall. Her full mouth trembled, curved
into a smile. "My thanks, stranger. Accept
the gratitude of Clovia, who was
once -- many years ago -- queen in
Hellios."

Niall shook his head. "Hellios? I've
never heard of it."

Clovia smiled wryly. "Is my fame so
quick to fade? Once I was mistress of a
mighty fleet, a great army. Kings and
emperors paid me home, until..."

Her lovely face darkened, her features
twisted in anger. "Until a magician came
out of the East and worked his magicks
in my city, and by them caused me to be
borne away and imprisoned in that ice!"

She drew a deep breath, and her eyes
roamed the grasslands. "Have you any
idea what it was like, buried in cold and
darkness -- still alive! -- for so many
year? So many years!" Her eyes focused
on him. "What is the year?"

Niall shrugged. "The year of the Boar,
the month of the Ice Gods."

Clovia rubbed her hands up and down
her arms. "That means nothing to me.
Ah, well... This is a different world than
the one I left, I know that. Even that magician
is no longer alive. Dalvuus, his
name was. Ha! If I could get my hands on
him..."

She looked hard at Niall. "What about
you? From whence came you?"

Niall explained how he had followed
Gunthar, how he had killed him, how the
earth had shuddered. His hand gestured
at the fallen rocks and tumbled blocks of
ice.

"I can go home no more. The way is
closed. I must reach a seaport and find a
ship to take me back to Northumbria."

Clovia eyed him musingly. "Stay with
me, Niall. Be my guard, my warrior.
Travel with me to Hellios, where I will
make you rich.""

Niall grinned. "Lady, your kingdom
may no longer exist. You are an outcast,
like myself." He hesitated, then said,
"Still, I have a fancy to wander about this
warmer world, to sip its ales and wines,
to taste its foods. It might be that I will
walk with you, takes you ot this Hellios."

Swiftly she twisted off the great emerald
ring that graced her finger. To go
with it, she took off a bracelet encrusted
with diamonds. "Take these as first payment,
warrior! They are but a small part
of what Clovia will give you if you escort
her safely to Hellios."

Niall chuckled, waving a hand, "Keep
them, lady. They look better on you than
they would in my pouch. Time enough
for reward when I do what you ask -- if I
can."

He turned to stare out over the grasslands,
which extended as far as he could
see. Niall knew nothing about this corner
of his world. He knew not which way to
walk, did not know even what direction
Clovia wanted to go. He turned to her
and saw her frowning slightly as she,
too, studied the vast prairie for a clue.

In almost inaudible words she was
muttering, "This would be the region
called Styglinia on the maps I have
known. If that is so, then there will be a
river running through it. But how far
away?"

Niall grinned. "And when we come to
this river, if we do, where will it take us?"

She turned to smile at him. "Eastward
toward the city Hellios. The river is named
Thangara. It is long and winding, running
across half the world. Could we but
fashion a raft..."

Her words drifted off. Niall shrugged
his muscular shoulders and said, "It isn't
around here, so let's go find it."

He began to walk, and after a moment
Clovia followed. They walked the sun
out of the sky, pausing at last when the
shadows lengthened and darkness began
to creep across the grasses. They
found refuge close by a rock formation.

Niall gathered sticks from the fallen
branches of some trees that grew near
that stone bulwark, set them together
and made a fire, scraping a bit of flint
against his dagger blade. From his pouch
he took a bit of meat, some cheese, a
little bread. Hunkered down, he offered
half of what he had to Clovia.

They ate, and then they lay at arm's
length, both within touching distance of
the fire. Overhead the stars glinted in
black space, and a cool wind roamed the
grasses. Niall slept soon and soundly.

For three days they traveled
south. The great bow and the
arrows Niall carried were put into
use, felling a deer, and then a boar, so
that the young man and the woman ate
well. His companion was given to moody
silences, or so it seemed to Niall. She
brooded long and often, her blue eyes
slightly veiled.

To Niall, it was a pleasant time. This
was a new land, and there was much to
see.The unchanging horizon extended
as far as his eyes could reach -- and he
had excellent vision -- but as the days
went on, it became monotonous.

Something of this he said to Clovia,
adding, "Even my northland gives me a
new view every so often. A bear might
rush out at me, or a giant elk, or even a
man who had been outlawed. But here..."

His huge shoulders lifted and fell,
"...there is nothing to stern the body
... there is nothing to stern the boredom.

Clovia turned her hair and smiled
faintly. "Do not be too sure, Niall. Slowly,
oh so slowly, I have been remembering.
We are not far now from the river -- and
from the underwater lair of the sea serpent
Xithalia."

"Sea serpent? I've heard of  them. Some
of them dwell in the Cold Sea. But I've
never known any to swim about in rivers."

"The river Thangara is deep, very deep.
It sweeps in from the ocean, and there
are caverns inside its stone walls where
Xithalia dwells."

Niall stiffened his shoulders. He did
not like this talk of sea serpents. By Wodin!
How could he fight off a sea serpent
from the deck of a raft?

Three days later, they came in
sight of a river. Its waters moved
sluggishly between grassy banks
rimmed with trees. As far as they could
see, there were no habitation, neither
the tents of prairie dwellers nor the mud
huts of men who had been outlawed
from the cities.

With his sword, Niall hacked down all
the saplings he could find, trimmed them
and then lashed them together with tough
vines that grew nearby. With Clovia helping
to twist the vines and saplings together,
they built a serviceable raft,
though Niall eyed it dubiously. It would
have to do; they had no boat, nor any
prospect of finding one in these remote
regions.

They launched the raft, balanced themselves
carefully on it, and pushed out
into the river, Niall poling them along.
The sun grew warmer as they made their
way between high banks covered with
wildflowers. Then they moved into an
area where trees all but shut out the
bright sky overhead.

Clovia sat quietly, seemingly lost in
thought. Niall stared about him, his heart
beating to the pace of this land where he
was a stranger. How vast it was! He had
never imagined that his world was so
huge. All he had known until now were
the cold sea waves and the little strand
where his father had his steading. What
wonders was he now to see?

All day they rode the river, landing at
dusk to make a little fire and cook the fish
Niall caught with a hook and some thin
cord from the pouch at his belt.

When they were done eating, Niall
asked, "How far do we have to travel to
reach this city where you were queen?"

Clovia smiled grimly. "Many, many
more days. We are now in a country
where my people never went. Why should
they? There is nothing here to tempt the
merchants.

They had been traveling on the
raft for four days when they saw
the sailing ship. It was in the
middle of the river, its sail billowed out,
yet it did not move. Then Niall saw something
wet and shiny moving slowly alongside
the vessel. Thick and massive -- and
menacing -- was that something.




Clovia cried out. "Xithalia! He has
come from his rocky lair to feat on human
flesh, to fill his belly and then retire
to sleep."

Niall sought purchase for the pole, to
make the raft move faster. As he did,
Clovia turned a frightened face to him.
"What are you doing? You are taking us
toward that thing! Try to go around it. It
may not see us.

"Those people aboard that ship may
need help."

Clovia stared at him, her eyes wide.
"What is that to us?"

The youth glared back at her. "It may
be nothing to you, but I can't run away to
let those folk face death."

He could see the head of the serpent
now, as the beast moved out from behind
the sail which had hidden it from his
view. Vast was the head, wide its mouth.
The creature slavered as it poised above
the deck, where a group of terrified people
stood huddled.

Niall reached for his bow. He knew
arrows would be useless against such a
creature, unless...

He pulled his bow, sent an arrow winging
through the air. It hit the scaly hide of
the serpent's neck and fell away. Niall
grunted, lifted another arrow to the
string. He took more time, studying the
distant creature's movements, before he
let fly again.

The arrow arced high, then as it began
to descend it drove into the eye of the
serpent. From its open throat came a
scream of agony. Up reared Xithalia, its
head turning one way and another as it
sought out the cause of its pain.

Clovia hunched down upon the raft's
deck. Her white hands were clenched
into fists. To her continued amazement,
Niall was poling feverishly, urging the
raft toward that nightmare monster, and
shouting as he worked.

"Have you gone mad?" Clovia yelled.

"No, no. Look -- The beast is leaving
the ship. It is starting to turn, to come
toward us.

Niall moved to the edge of the raft,
balancing himself carefully. He drew his
sword and waited as Xithalia glided
through the river toward him.

"What can you hope to do with that
puny weapon?" Clovia panted. "He will
open his mouth, gobble you up!"

Niall grinned. "That's what I hope he
does."

The great head was over him now, its
jaws wide apart. Long teeth glinted in the
red cavern of a mouth. For a moment
Xithalia paused, then its head darted
downward.

Clovia screamed.

Niall sprang upward to meet the gaping
jaw, his sword held up before him as
if he meant to fend off that gaping
mouth.

The jaw snapped almost shut--just as
Niall fell sideways into the river. But before
he fell, the thrust lodged his sword
in the jaw of the sea serpent, with the
point puncturing the roof of its mouth
and the pommel lodged up against its
bottom jaw. Even though impaled on the
sword those jaws gaped wide.

Xithalia bellowed. It thrashed its head
and its vast body, straining to force the
sword back out the way it came. When
light caught the edge of the blade, it
could be seen in the beast's throat cavity,
lodged at an angle that made the serpent
roar every time it moved its jaws up and
down. Water foamed and flew about.

Niall swam to the raft and hoisted himself
upon it. His booming laughter rang
out. "Try now to swallow me, eater of men!
Maybe now you'll starve to death."

He took up the pole, thrust it into the
soft bottom of the river, and propelled
the raft toward the ship which now sat
sideways in the river, the people on it
staring and crying out to him. Clovia
rose to her knees, then to her feet, all the
while eyeing the injured and enraged
serpent, convulsing as it sought to free
itself from that sword. Xithalia lost interest
in its prey, and its thrashings carried
it farther and farther away, until after a
few moments it dipped beneath the surface
of the water and was gone.

Almost in awe, Covia shifted her gaze
to stare at Niall. "You saved me, barbarian.
You saved me."

"I saved myself," he grinned.

Ropes were flung from the ship's deck.
Niall caught one, grabbed Clovia with
his other arm, and leaped. His feet found
the side of the boat, and willing hands
grasped them and raised them upward
unil the deck planks are underfoot.

Sailors were running here and there,
preparing to get the shp under way. The
sail filled with wind, the hull turned about
until it pointed into the current, and the
river waters again began to glide past the
hull as the vessel moved on with the raft
in tow.

A man with a beard came toward them,
smiling broadly. "My thanks to you," he
happily growled at Niall, clasping the
youth's hands. "You saved our lives and
the vessel itself. I'll not be ungrateful."

Niall shrugged. "Just tell me where I
can buy a little boat. I'm tired of pusing
a raft along."

The captain chuckled. "You'll buy nothing.
A boat shall be my gift to you." He
hesitated. "But where do you plan to go
upon the river Thangara?"

Niall glanced at Clovia, who said, "We
travel to Hellios."

"Hellios? Where's that?"

Clovia stared. "Hellios is the most
magnificant city in the world. From its
docks, ships ply all the nine oceans. Its
merchants eat from plates of gold.

The captain grinned. "Lady, I wish you
only the best, but -- Hellios? There is no
such place. I know this river from the
ocean to the mountains.

The captain walked away and Clovia
stared at him, frowning.

Two days later the ship pulled
into a wharf before a riverside
city. Niall was at the railing, staring
at the many rooftops, at the distant
shine of sunlight on a golden dome. This
was the first city he had ever seen. In his
country there was no more than small
steadings, or perhaps a gathering of
steadings together with warehouses in
which merchants stored their goods.

"You find it exciting?" Clovia asked
from where she stood behind him.

"I've never seen anything like it." Niall
told her, not taking his eyes off the
scenes before him.

Her lips curved into a smile. "Wait until
you glimpse Hellios. There is a city, a city
that houses thousands upon thousands
of people."

"The captain says there is no such
place. I've spoken with him. He knows
this river as he does his own home."

Clovia snapped. "The man is mad. I tell
you, I know Hellios! I reigned there, as
did my father and my forefathers.

Very gently, Niall murmured, "But that
was a long time ago; Clovia. A very long
time ago..." He put his arm about her.
"How long were you inside that river of
ice?"

"I -- I don't know. But Hellios must still
live. It must!"

"If it does, we'll find it."

Niall did not notice the sadness in her
eyes, nor did he pay any attention to the
manner in which she pulled her cloak
about her. And though he sensed it when
she shivered, he put that down to the
cool wind blowing off the land.

They went with the captain, whose
name was Dalamar, to his big stone
house on a hillside north of the twon.
Clovia would have preferred to be alone
with Niall, but the shipmaster would not
have stood for that. The two were to be
his guests, to enjoy his hospitality.

They met his wife and children, they
feasted at a huge table, they enjoyed the
warmth of a great log burning in the
huge fireplace. They shared bowls of
rich wine, and when the children had
been put to bed Dalamar brought out
narrow wooden tubes which held maps.

These maps he unrolled on a table,
and as Clovia and Niall bent over them,
the captain's figure traced the route of
the river Thangara from the mountains
to the sea. On those parchment scrolls,
there was no mark to point out the city
Clovia called Hellios.

Her face grew paler as she examined
the parchments. Her finger trembled as
she pointed, "This is where Hellios
should be. There!"

Dalamar's face wore a puzzled look as
he stared at where she indicated. He
drew a deep breath and said, "Lady,
there is no city there. True, there are
strange stones standing about -- I've
never put ashore to look at them closely
-- but only the wind roams between
those stones. There are no people, there
is no city. Believe me.

Clovia turned suddenly and walked
across the room to stand at a window
and stare out into the dark night. She
stood there, motionless, for many minutes
before she turned and came back to
them.

"I have been gone for longer than I had
believed," she whispered. "Far longer.
When I was taken out of Hellios and put
into that glacier by the magic of the wizard
Dalvuus, Hellios was the greatest
city in my world. Now is is dust and dead
stone."

Dalamar cleared his throat. "But you
still live, lady. There is much to be seen in
this new world. You both must stay here
with me and my family."

Clovia smiled and shook her head. "I
thank you, but -- no. I must look upon
Hellios once again, or at least upon what
remains of it."

Then she gazed at Niall. "Will you
come with me? Or do you choose to stay
here, or to wander elsewhere?"

"I agreed to see you to safety in Hellios,"
the youth replied. "I will keep my word."

The next morning Niall went with Dalamar
to the docks, where the captain
pointed out a small boat with a mast. "It's a
cockboat I sometimes take with me
when I sail out upon THE OCEAN. It's fast, it
moves well. I'll provision it for you, and
give you a new sail."

"Accept my thanks, Dalamar." Niall
said briskly and sincerely.

The captain chuckled. "If you hadn't
come to fight the serpent, I wouldn't be
here Now. Speak no more of thanks."

Two days later Niall and Clovia pushed
away from the wharf, with Dalamar seeing
them off. The wind was brisk. It filled
their sail and sent the craft speeding
through the water. Niall waved once
more to Dalamar, then set his face to the
east and his big hand on the tiller.

Clovia sat in the prow, leaning forward,
staring ahead of her as if she were
trying to will the little craft to go even
faster. She was huddled beneath her
cloak, and every so often she shivered.

For five days they sailed, pausing
only to sleep for a few hours
each night along the deserted riverbank.
Always, Clovia urged speed. It
was as though something inside ate at
her and would not be satisfied until she
stood again in Hellios. They ate their
meals in the boat as it scudded along;
Clovia would not hear of stopping for a
midday rest.

On the fifth afternoon, she straightened
suddenly, lifted her arm and pointed
ahead. "See there, Niall! That tongue
of rock jutting out into the river. My sailors
called it Norban's Tongue, for the
river god Norban whose tongue licks up
the souls of dead sailors and carries
them away to the worlds ruled by the
gods. Hellios is not far now."

Niall merely grunted in acknowledgement.
He was enjoying this trip. This was
his chance ot see more of this world into
which he had been catapulted by the
fates -- though there was little to see,
outside the river and the plains and the
forests through which they sailed.

He hoped Hellios would prove be interesting,
though he suspected it would
not. What was so interesting about a lot
of ancient buildings? Yet he could understand
why Clovia wanted to walk
there, to set her eyes on those places she
had known so long ago.

The little sloop seemed Now to run faster
through the waves. It left Norban's
Tongue far behind and approached a
mass of tumbled blocks of stone along
its banks.

Clovia stood and cried out, "This was
the harbor!"

Niall moved the tiller delicately, and
the boat crept between huge boulders
jutting out of the river. His eyes scanned
the land, saw here and there places
where buildings might have stood in the
distant past. Judging by the view from
the river, which was obstructed by boulders
and debris, no one would suspect
that a mighty metropolis had once
graced this shoreline.

He ran the cockboat in against a big
flat rock, tossed its anchor about a jutting
piece of stone, then stepped up onto
the rock and helped Clovia ashore.

Tears were in her eyes and running
down her cheeks.

"Gone," she whispered, so softly that
Niall could scarcely hear her. "All gone,
all of the ships, all the riches. Forgotten by
the world. No more do the armies march,
no more do the golden banners wave in
the breezes. Dead. All dead!" 



Niall did not speak. He looked out over 
the ruins which, from this vantage point, 
extended as far as he could see. From 
the river a man could not glimpse the 
extent of what had been the glory of Hellios, 
but from atop this high rock the 
truth of Clovia's memories was plain to 
see. 

The woman moved away, walking from 
the rock to the earth of the shore itself, 
striding slowly forward on what had 
been paving stones but which were Now 
half-buried under dirt && grass. She 
went with bowed head, and Niall knew 
that she was weeping. 

The youth shrugged. He might as well 
go along with her. Who knew? Perhaps 
he might find something here ot take 
away with him: a bit of buried gold, or 
even a rare gem or two.He needed money 
to live, to eat and drink until he found 
service somewhere as a warrior or a 
laborer. 

Clovia wandered along what might 
have been a great boulevard many years 
ago. From time ot time she would pause 
ot run her eyes this way and that way, 
and the wind blew her pale hair about her 
face as though to hide the tears that 
streaked her cheeks. 

"There stood my palace," she said to 
Niall, pointing. "Its walls were high, its 
buildings the glory of our city." 

The young Northumbrian muttered. 
"There must be some gold left, somewhere 
around here. You would know the 
location of the vaults. Take us there." 

She shook her head slowly. "They 
would have taken all the gold, the jewels, 
when they abandoned Hellios. There will 
be nothing left." 

"How can you know unless you LOOK? 
You know nothing of what happened 
here. You were locked inside the ice." 

Clovia smiled abruptly, holding out 
her hands to him. "You are right, as always. 
I have been so sunk in my sorrow 
that I have forgotten I am alive, and that I 
will need gold to go on living -- if I 
choose to do so, that is."

"Well, I choose to live," Niall grumbled. 

Laughter rang out -- the first time he 
had ever heard such a sound from her. 
"Yes, Niall. You are my warrior, my army. 
At is the duty of a queen to care for 
her warriors. Come along!" 

She took but one step, and then his 
hand shot out to catch and halt her. He 
lifted his other arm and pointed. 

"I saw something, some sort of movement. 
There maybe wild animals here, 
Clovia. Get behind me." 

He drew the sword Dalamar had given 
him -- his old blade, he suspected, was 
still caught in the serpent's jaws -- and 
held the blade out before him as he 
moved forward, with Clovia following 
close behind: 

Suddenly a shrieking sound split the 
air from ahead of them. From behind the 
tumbled stories of the dead city rushed 
half a dozen men. They wore the barest of 
rags, and their feet were bare. They 
looked like less than a match for the burly 
young Niall, but they also looked determined 
and desperate. 

Niall roared a battle cry and ran to confront 
them. He easily ducked under a 
thrown club, and a second later he was in 
the midst of them. His sword* lifted and 
fell, sliced and thrusted, and suddenly 
three of the ragged men were down, their 
blood staining the grass and stones. 

As he struck and parried, Niall scanned 
these men, seeing something besides 
their rags and rusted weapons. Some of 
them had thick bracelets on their arms, 
one or two possessed rings, and all of the 
adornments seemed to be made of solid 
gold. 

The three men still alive whirled and 
fled but Niall ran after them, bellowing in 
his battle-lust. Where two walls stood 
close together he cornered them and 
moved in with his sword swinging. 

The overmatched men fought grimly, 
savagely, but within moments they <le> on 
the ground, dead or near death. 

Niall stood over them as Clovia came 
running up. 

"You killed them all," she accused. 
"They might have told us something!"

"What could such as these told 
you? The're carrion eaters, and I would 
guess they eat human beings, too, Still, I 
think they have told us a little." 

"What do you mean?" 

He knelt, stripping golden rings and 
airbands from the dead men, and held 
them up to Clovia, who stared at them 
with incredulous eyes. 

"Those were made in Hellios! she 
said. "I know the workmanship." Her 
words tumbled over themselves as she 
sought to explain. "This ring was made 
by Frondag, who fashioned jewelry for 
me. Ah, and this armlet by Rogonor, 
whose artistry in gold has never been 
challenged. But how can this be? It 
was so long ago!" 

"Gold doesn't die," Niall reminded her. 

She shook her head impatiently. "No, 
no. I didn't mean that. Where did they 
find these things?" That's what I want to 
know. If they stumbled upon some lost 
hoard of gold, so can we!" 

Niall grinned exultantly. "Now where 
would such a hoard be hidden?"

"In the palace, of course. And it is just 
over there." 

They ran to where colored columns 
and tinted stone blocks lay in mad disarray. 
Clovia began to search with with Niall at 
her side. They turned over stone blocks, 
they dug where she suggested, but the 
ruins were too heavy, and too much 
earth had blown into what once had 
been stairways. 

Niall stood at least, scowling. "There is 
a different way into the cellars. There has 
to be. Those ragged men I killed would 
never do any digging. Besides, if they 
had, we'd see some sign of it." 

Clovia sat on a fallen column. "Yes. 
There's a way in that is not blocked by 
rubble. All we have to do is find it." 

They searched until hunger sent them 
back to the boat for the leathern sacks 
that held their food and drink. As the sun 
sank, Niall built afire in the shelter of two 
standing walls, and there he coocked a 
meal. 

While they were eating, Niall heard the 
beating of wings. Outlined against the 
darkening sky, he saw small flying things. 
He was about to put more meat in his 
mouth when he sprang to his feet instead. 

"Those bats!" he shouted. "They can 
show us the way in!" 

Clovia stared at him. "What?" 

"Bats nest in caves -- or an underground 
place like treasure house. Or a 
corridor that will lead us beneath your 
palace." 

Clovia licked her lips. "Then let's go 
find it." 

"Not until the bats return," Niall responded. 
"Now, you sleep. I'll watch for 
them."

When the woman had rolled up in the 
cloak and fur wrap which Dalamar had 
given her, Niall sat back against a stone 
pillar and let his thoughts roam. He liked 
the excitement of this strange land into 
which he had come. Even more, he liked 
the idea of finding treasure. For hour 
upon hour he yielded to his dreamings, 
saying alert but preoccupied. 

With golden coins, he could travel 
leisurely about this land, discover its 
deepest secrets, know its fairest women. 
There might be jewels too, and a mere 
handful of pearls or rubies or diamonds 
would make him a rich man. 

Niall chuckled. As a rich man, he could 
return home to Northumbria, he thought, 
but then he scowled. Northumbria held 
no secrets from him; he knew it too well. 
Instead, he would roam this world into 
which he had been cast by the ground 
itself, and he would make a name for 
himself. 

He was reflecting on this when he 
heard a stone roll across other stones. 
Instantly he was ready, rising quietly, lifting 
out his dagger. If death or danger 
came crawling forth in dawnlight, he 
would meet it. 



Then it came, a nightmare-thing with 
five legs and three arms, hunched over 
so that it seemed to be a ball of black 
leather with red, glowing eyes. 

The thing moved in the direction of hte 
sleeping Clovia, and Niall saw fangs glint 
in the dying firelight. 

He rushed forward, putting his body 
between the leathery thing and Clovia. 
His shoulder hit the beast's body as he 
swung with his dagger in a short, vicious arc. 

The short blade bit deep. The beast-thing 
bellowed, lunged for Clovia and 
missed her by inches as Niall forced it to 
one side. They landed hard on stones 
and turf. Quickly Niall was back on his 
feet. Now he had some time to yank out his 
sword, and he drove forward with it. 

A clawed hand swiped at him. Niall 
ducked as he saw and felt his sword 
slash into a leathery shoulder. Then their 
bodies were twined together as he sought 
to free his steel from the beast-flesh 
where it was lodged. 

The body of the thing he fought was 
hotter than a man's body, as if heated 
from within. Its breath was nauseating. 
Niall twisted, partially freeing himself of 
the grip of those mighty arms and taking 
scratches across his shoulders from the 
long, sharp claws. 

Then his sword blade came free. Niall 
glanced at it and gasped. It looked as 
though acid had eaten at it. The flat of 
the blade was pocked with pits and 
holes. At its once-sharp edges were 
now dulled and eaten away. 

"Wodin All-Father!" he gasped. 

Niall dropped the sword, and in the 
same motion reached for a paving stone. 
He slammed the rock against the face of 
the awful being. Fierce was that blow, 
driven by all the power of his brawny 
arm, and flush against the forehead of 
the beast-thing it landed. 

The creature bellowed. Its mouth 
gaped wide, showing fangs that threatened 
but could not penetrate Niall's defenses 
from such close range. Niall lifted 
the rock and hit with it again and again. 
He drove the creature backward with the 
rock-blows, never giving it a chance to 
steady itself for a counterattack. 

"Water!" Clovia's voice cried from behind 
him. "It cannot stand the touch of water!" 

Niall feinted another attack with the 
stone, then suddenly leaped toward the 
beast, his arms spread wide. He grabbed 
the leathery beast around the lower part 
of its torso, bore it backward, and rolled 
over and over on the gground with it. The 
river was not far away. 

The young warrior snarled. He struggled 
to regain his feet and lift the thing 
off the ground. While straining to raise it, 
Niall began ot move forward. 

The monster's arms and claws raked at 
him, digging into his arms and shoulders. 
Niall grunted in response to the pain, but 
did not lose his grip. Now he was able to 
walk carrying the beast-thing. The river 
was closer... closer. 

Within a few feet of the bank, Niall left 
his feet in a lunge. Still clinging to the 
leathery creature, he toppled into the 
water. 

Immediately there was an awful hissing. 
A stench rose into the air. Niall 
choked and felt nausea all but overwhelming 
him. The thing he clung to was 
weakening quickly. Its struggles were 
not so savage, and in a moment it was all 
but inert in his grasp. 

Niall felt the touch of hands from behind 
him, trying to help draw him upward 
out of the churning water. He released 
his grip on the beast's body and allowed 
himself to be dragged back onto solid 
ground. 

He stood tottering at the river's edge. 
Clovia was beside him, gripping his arm 
tightly as she stared into the water. 

The creature was disappearing -- dissolving 
in the water! Fumes rose from the 
bubbling river, fumes that made Niall 
curse and draw Clovia away from the 
river bank. 

He drew a breath. "How did you know 
that water would slay that thing?" 

In a voice trying to be calm, Clovia 
replied, "It was a thordio, a thing that had <thordio>
come to my city from some forgotten 
world long ago. In my time it was only a 
legend. Something seems to have summoned 
it back now. But why?" 

She stared at the ruins of the city and 
asked harshly, "What is there to protect 
here? What purpose would there be in 
summoning the thordia out of its own <thordia> 
world to roam these ruins?"

To Niall, the answer came quickly, 
"Treasure."

"No. Something more important than 
gold or jewels." Clovia murmured, shaking 
her head. Her fingers tightened once 
again upon his arm. "Come!" This has 
restored hope to me. There is something 
here, something waiting -- sleeping, 
perhaps."

The big barbarian shrugged. "I care 
not for anything like that. What good 
would that do us? 

Clovia glanced at him slyly, smiling 
faintly. "Ah, but there will be treasure, 
young man. Treasure so great ten boats 
could not carry it. Are you interested?

Niall grinned, putting his hand on her 
shoulder and squeezing it. "Lead on,
lady. We'll forget about waiting for the 
bats."

Clovia walked forward, at times almost 
breaking into a run. It seemed as if her 
memory were coming back to her, as if in 
her mind's eye she could see Hellios as 
she had known it when she had walked 
its streets. Niall followed at a strolling 
pace, keeping up with her, fingering 
again-empty scabbard. He felt partly 
naked without a sword at his side. Ever 
since he had been twelve years old --and 
a huge child for his age -- he had walked 
with the weight of a sword dragging 
down his belt. 

Clovia went between still-standing 
walls and broken columns, following an 
unseen path. Twice she hesitated, standing 
motionless and staring about her, 
frowning, before she resumed her stride. 

At length she came to what must have been 
a big building. Between its walls 
she walked, on ornate paving stones 
half-hidden under grass and wildflowers. 
Then she paused at a place where 
two walls met, and Niall could glimpse a 
larger paving stone set among the others. 

"Lift this," she said, tapping the stone 
with a foot. 

Niall knelt and slid his fingers beneath 
the bluish stone. Rising from his knees, 
he straightened his back until his arm 
and shoulder muscles bulged. Slowly, 
the stone came up. It was well over a 
minute later that he had raised it high 
enough to topple it, revealing a narrow 
stairway beneath where it had lain. 

"Let me enter," Clovia said. 

But Niall held her back, drawing his 
dagger. "There may be dangers down 
there, lady. Let me go first. You follow." 

He put his feet to the stone of that 
ancient staircase, descending into almost 
total darkness. The sun's rays did 
not penetrate far, but they showed the 
barbarian the shape of a tunnel stretching 
out ahead of him. 

Clovia was right behind him, fingertips 
touching his back. "Search along the 
walls. There ought to be torches thrust 
into iron holders. 

By groping in the darkness, Niall discovered 
a length of resin-soaked wood. 
With flint and a bit of steel from his 
pouch, plus some tinder, he made a 
flame and ignited the torch. Holding it 
high, to cast light as far as possible 
into the tunnel, he moved on. 

It was dim in this tunnel, even with that 
torch, but there seemed to be nothing 
dangerous lurking within. At length they 
came to an oaken door, barred in iron 
and with a rusty lock. 

Clovia said, "This is the treasure house 
of my people. Stand aside, Niall."

From her pouch she drew a small 
length of steel. At Niall's questioning 
look, she smiled wryly. "This I took with 
me -- unknown to Dalvuus, naturally! -- 
when they stole me from my palace. 

She fitted the key into the lock, but 
could not turn it. Niall grasped her upper 
arms, moved her aside, put his hand to 
the key and, after grunting a bit from the 
exertion, turned it. His big hand pushed 
the door wide. 

They looked in a big room, fitted out 
with chests and coffers of varying sizes. 
As Niall strode forward, holding the torch 
before him, he saw what appeared to be 
a corpse lying atop one of the biggest 
chests. But it was not the sight of the 
body that his rested on last. 



Thor! rumbled Niall. "What a 
sword!" It lay beside the corpse, 
its haft glittering from the torchlight, 
its scabbard revealing the jewels 
with which it was emblazoned. Its blade 
was partly out of the scabbard and shone 
brightly, unaffected by rust or decay. 

Niall sprang to that sword, caught hold
of the scabbard, yanked free the blade. 
He held it up, staring at its length. Never 
had he seen such a weapon as this; he 
had not believed that one could exist. 

Clovia said softly, "That is the weapon 
called Blood-driner. It belonged to my 
father, to his father, to all my male ancestors 
who were emperors and kings in Hellios.

"I claim this as my reward,: Niall exulted. 
"Just this! With it I can gain all the 
gold I'll ever have need of!"

Clovia gasped, fell against Niall. "Niall! 
Look! By all the gods of Hellios -- that 
thing is alive!"
13A rustling drew his attention to the 
body on the chest. The hairs on the back 
of his neck rose up stiffly as he saw the 
thing stir, move, begin to sit up. Eyelids 
opened, and the reddish eyes peered at 
them from under hairy brows. 

"Who disturbs my slumbers? Who 
comes to the treasure room of long-dead 
Hellios?"

Clovia moved forward, eyes wide, her 
lovely mouth distorted in a mixture of 
horror and hate. "Dalvuus! You -- still 
-- live!" 

"Slay him! Slay him!" Clovia screamed.

Niall lifted Blood--drinker, but in that 
moment -- even as he tensed himself to 
leap forward -- he found himself frozen. 
The reddish eyes of Dalvuus fastened on 
him, held him as helpless as any babe. 
He could not move a muscle. 

Laughter shook the corpse-like being. 
Dust rose from the half-rotted garments 
that clothed it. "Foolish youth, foolish 
queen. Think you so easily to overcome 
Dalvuus the Mage? Pah!" He raised a 
hand. "I banish both of you to oblivion! Begone, 
the two of you!" 

Niall felt himself being lifted upward, 
then plunged into cottony clouds that 
pierced his flesh with cold. He was vaguely 
aware that Clovia was beside him, 
screaming with terror rioting in her veins, 
and he reached out through that cloudiness 
to grasp her arm, draw her closer to 
him. 

Like that, they fell through nothingness...

Niall opened his eyes to stare
upward at a yellow sky, a sky in 
which no sun glowed. He rose 
up on an elbow and saw Clovia lying 
beside him, unconscious but breathing 
normally. He lay upon ground that was 
brown, riven here and there by fumeroles 
from which steam rose into the air. 

This world was hot, wherever it was. 
Already, Niall could feel sweat oozing 
from his pores. He lifted himself to his 
feet, realizing that his fist still held 
Blood-drinker. 

He looked around. Everything was 
desolation here. Ruin, emptiness. There 
was no life, except for himself and the 
woman who had been queen in Hellios.

"Tartarus," breathed a voice at his feet. 

Niall looked down at a haggard Clovia, 
then put out a hand to yank her to her 
feet. She shuddered and great tears 
rolled down her cheeks. 

"The gods have abandoned us," she 
wept. "There is no hope now. We will die 
here, without food and water." 

Niall scowled blackly. He was not one 
to admit defeat so easily. He had been 
put here, true. Yet where he had entered, 
he could leave. 

"Think, woman!" he urged. "If you 
know of this place, you must know more 
about it. If there is any way out of here 
-- any way at all! -- it's up to you to remember 
what it is."

She stared up at him, eyes rimmed by 
tears. She shuddered, rubbing her hands 
on her arms. "No one has ever returned 
from here. No one!"

Niall growled, "That's no answer. What 
is this place? What do you know of it?" 

"Tarterus is a magic region created by 
great wizardry. Only mightiest magicians 
know the way to and from it." Her 
eyes widened. "From it... Yes, there is a 
way out, but I know it not. When I was 
queen in Hellios, I studied the history of 
many magicks, as a pastime..." 

She broke off, stood with bowed head, 
deep in thought. Niall eyed her for a 
moment, then took to studying his sword. 
It was a splendid blade, the finest he had 
ever seen. Its edges looked sharp enough 
to shave the hair from his head. He 
moved it back and forth, getting to know 
its feel. 

Clovia said dreamily, "There is a guardian 
over this dead world, placed here 
eons ago by those who created this 
place. His name is...his name...I cannot 
recall!"

"Try! If ever you would return to our 
own world, woman --think!" 

Clovia looked up at him, eyes wet, 
tears running down her cheeks. She 
shook her head, her misery plain to see. 
"It's no use. I just can't remember. Dalvuus 
has won!" 

Dalvuus? 

It was a word from out of the very air. 
Niall grunted, lifted his sword and stared 
about him. Clovia gasped and clung to 
his side. 

Who is it who speaks of Dalvuus? 

A vast green shape appeared high 
above them, seeming to grow in size  
even as it lowered itself to the bare 
brown ground where Niall stood with 
Clovia. The greenness was a vast cape or
cloak, or appeared as such, with a hood 
beneath which was utter blackness. 

What know you mere mortals of 
Dalvuus? Long and long ago did 
Dalvuus live! 

Niall found his tongue. "He lives still, 
back in that land from which we came! 
He sent us here, to perish." 

The darkness under the hood seemed 
almost to meditate. The cape which surrounded 
that darkness swirled as though 
blown about by mighty winds. From it 
stabbed an arm tipped by a dark hand. 

Would you return to where it is 
Dalvuus lives? Would you slay 
Dalvuus? 

"I would," Niall rasped, "if by his 
charms and incantations he gave me a 
chance to use this sword on him!" 

Only I can send you back to that 
world. And only I have the power to 
draw you back here -- should you 
fail in your quest!

The strange voice paused, as though 
the black being in the vast greenish 
cloak were thinking. Niall spoke into that 
silence. 

"Return us and I will kill Dalvuus for 
you!" 

Eerie laughter rose from the seemingly 
empty hood. 

Rash mortal! Dalvuus cannot die. 
Oh, yes -- as you know death, he 
can. But should you slay him, his 
soul would come here to me, Tartarus. 
Ah!... I have waited long for 
that, to exact my vengeance! 

Go then -- back from whence 
you came! With my protection! 

Niall felt the world shift 
about him, knew an instant of 
queasiness, and then he stood 
upright in the treasure chamber of the 
kings of Hellios, and beside him, her arm 
in the crook of his arm, was Clovia. His 
fingers tightened about the haft of Blood-drinker. 

His eyes swept the chamber. All was as 
it had been when they had entered it, 
except that the magician had vanished. 
The woman shuddered. 

"He's gone," she whispered. 

"But not far," Niall bristled. "Come 
on!" 

He ran along the corridor, touching 
the wall blindly, for Dalvuus had taken 
the torch. In utter darkness he ran, listening 
to Clovia crying out his name and 
stumbling after him far behind. Up ahead 
he saw faint light, and he ran as might the 
leopards of Poranga, so switfly that his 
feet seemed scarcely to touch the stone 
floor.

Up the stairs he leaped, into daylight. 

His booted feet slid to a halt. "Wodin." 
he breathed, and stared around him. 

No longer were there ruins here. No! 
Upward around him rose the walls of a 
mighty palace. Great marble columns 
ran here and there, upholding a ceiling 
on which glinted gold leaf and brilliant 
paintings. There was a throne at the far 
end of this vast chamber, and at the other 
end, massive doors opened onto a sun-drenched 
street. 

Clovia sobbed behind him, half in and 
half out of the stone stairway. "Hellios," 
she breathed, "as I remember it! What 
magic is this, Niall?" 

He growled low in his throat. "Dalvuus 
is behind it. By some great spell, he has 
made that which was, now be again. But 
where is the swine?" 

They heard the tramp of sandalled feet 
from outside the huge doors. Niall knew 
the tread of soldiers when he heard it. He 
swung about, lips lifted in a silent snarl, 
and he held Blood-drinker ready. 

Ten men in mail shirts came marching 
into the throne room, and Niall viewed 
them with narrrow eyes from a hidden 
vantage point. A man followed them inside. 
It was Dalvuus -- but what a change 
there was in his appearance! No longer 
did he wear age-rotted garments, but 
now he strode along in an anke-length 
garment of ebon blackness on which 
were sewn thaumaturgic symbols in silver 
thread. A golden cloak hung from his 
shoulders. 

Niall bellowed and leaped out of hiding, 
placing himself between the guards and 
Clovia. 

Instantly Dalvus halted. His eyes went 
wide, his mouth fell open. Just for a moment 
he was paralyzed by amazement. 
Then his arm came up and he cried out 
orders to the marching guards. 

"Slay that man! And the woman with 
him!" 

But before any of them could react to 
his voice, Niall was upon those warriors. 
His blade darted once, twice, and two 
men dropped. Nor did he pause, but 
came on like a maddened elephant, his 
sword out before him, slashing, cuting. 

"Abaddon," chanted Dalvuus. "Great 
Abaddon, hear me! Slay this man who 
kills my soldiers. Slay him and --" 

Dalvuus paused for breath. Six of his 
men were down, and Niall was fast upon 
the others. Like a Styrethian lion, he 
moved here and there, out of reach of the 
blades that sought to sap his life's blood, 
always slashing back in return and slicing 
through flesh and bone. 

Dalvuus turned to flee, his robes flapping 
as he ran, and after him went Niall, 
blood dripping from his sword. Niall 
could run like a frightened deer, but 
there was speed in the magician, too. He 
fled up one hall and down another, never 
pausing to glance back. 

Up to a blank wall Dalvuus ran. His 
hands went out to the cold stone -- and 
where he touched, the stone slid back. 
Dalvuus leaped through the opening, 
and the stone wall closed just as Niall 
arrived. The warrior cursed silently as he 
heard faint, mocking laughter from inside 
the passage. 

From behind him came the sound of 
sandals slapping the stone floor. He 
whirled, swordpoint thrust up so that 
Clovia almost ran herself upon it. He let 
the blade drop and caught her in his arms. 

"He's escaped me," he growled. 

Clovia tried to catch her breath, shaking 
her head. At last she said, "No, no. 
Just a trick. A trick I know. Let me at the 
wall."

She reached to the wall, touched it 
with her fingertips as Dalvuus had done. 
"See? It operates in this fashion. Hidden 
valves force air into locks and -- see! The 
stone turns. 

Niall caught her up and leaped through 
the opening. Into a small antechamber 
he ran, still carrying the woman. Ahead 
was an oaken door, reinforced with iron. 
Setting Clovia down, Niall ran forward. 

He leaped at the door, boots upraised, 
and slammed into it with all the fury his 
massive body could muster. He heard 
wood give away, heard and felt the screech 
of twisting metal . . . and the oak door 
burst open. 

Niall stood in the open doorway, staring 
into a chamber fitted out with strange 
vials and alembics, with hornbooks and 
palimpsests on racks and shelves. Standing 
before an altar of black stone, his 
back to the door and arms upraised, was 
Dalvuus. 

"Great Abaddon, do not abandon me 
in my time of need! Heed my call, great 
lord of evil! Come to -- "

"Foul slug," bellowed Niall, running 
forward. "Prepare to die -- and to be 
welcomed into Tartarus by one who has 
waited a long time to get his hands on 
you." 

Dalvuus swung about. Utter fear was 
etched on his face. His lips were drawn 
back, his eyes distended. 

"Begone, creature of this world! Begone, 
into that world of Tartarus where 
once I sent you!" 

The mage lifted his arms, made mesmeric 
passes with hands. Yet still did 
Niall come for him. 

Now Dalvuus screamed, sought to escape 
by dodging behind the altar. His 
hand lifted a vial of purplish liquid and 
hurled it at Niall. 

Clovia screamed shrilly. Niall ducked 
under that hastily hurled glass tube, 
heard it fall and break on the floor behind 
him. Purple, searing flames leaped upward 
from the spot, and Niall knew that 
had that vial broken on his body, he 
would have been burned alive. 

Dalvuus whirled and fled as soon as he 
threw the vial. His hands reached for a 
corner of the wall, and that wall also 
turned as he touched it, revealing a narrow 
passageway. Dalvuus leaped for the 
opening. 

The magician was swift, but Niall was 
fast as lightning. No sooner had the magician 
entered the narrow opening than 
Niall was at his heels. Dalvuus stayed in 
the lead as the pair threw themselves up 
the narrow stairs leading to the top of the 
tower they were in. 

Dalvuus ran into the topmost room of 
the tower and his hands went out toward 
a metal canister that stood upon a stone 
table. 

His hands grasped that metal alembic, 
sought to tear away its cover. Niall did 
not know what power was in that thing, 
but he knew it would be deadly to him. 

He caught the mage from behind, fastened 
his big hands on Dalvuus' wrists, 
and exerted just part of the strength of 
his mighty muscles. Abruptly, Dalvuus' 
fingers were pulled from the metal top. 
Then Niall whirled Dalvuus' body around 
and drove his fist into his face. 

The magician reeled back several 
steps, affected by the blow although he 
was apparently using some form of magical 
protection. Such a blow would ordinarily 
have crushed the skull of a man his 
size. He retreated until his back touched 
the cold wall of the tower-top. In a daze, 
he raised his hands. 

"Bythagm noith juglasteros..." he began 
to recite. 

Niall felt a coldness begin to form in 
the tiny room. His lips pulled back. He 
had had his fill of sorcery. 

The young warrior drew Blood-drinker 
and thrust with it before the magician 
had time to finish the incantation. The 
weapon's full length went into the body 
of the magician. Dalvuus stiffened, his 
eyes went wide. 

Still with that sword thrust into him 
from chest to back so that a foot of steel 
protruded from his spine, he staggered 
forward. Toward the canister his halting 
steps took him, hands outstretched. 

Stop him, barbarian!

Niall leaped between the mage and the 
alembic he was after, intending only to 
forestall the magician until he must certainly 
succumb to the sword upon which 
he was impaled. 

Dalvuus laid his hands on Niall, sought 
to push him aside. His eyes were wild, 
pleading. Niall did not know why, but 
that voice he had heard was warning 
enough. He stopped him: His big hands 
came up, caught Dalvuus, held him motionless -- 
and in that instant, the magician 
collapsed and died. Niall's grip relaxed, 
and the magician's dead weight 
sifted through Niall's grasp and crumpled 
to the floor. 

A blackness was now in the tower 
room, gathering slowly. Niall knew what 
that blackness was, and he shrank from 
it. 

Yet that darkness held no menace for 
the big Northumbrian. It crept toward 
Dalvuus, slowly, and as though aware of 
its coming, the mouth of the dead magician 
opened as if to scream. 

Then the blackness touched Dalvuus, 
embraced him. 

And Dalvuus -- or that essence which 
still lived within him -- did screawm. His 
body had dropped, yet some part of Dalvuus 
struggled as the blackness took 
over. Was this an act of Dalvuus' soul? 

Go, earthly being! Flee! And take 
with you my gratitude!

Niall yanked his sword from the cadaver 
that lay upon the stone floor, then 
ran. Swiftly had he run up those narrow 
stairs in pursuit of the mage. More swiftly 
still did he run down them, back into the 
room where he had left Clovia. 

He said no word but snatched her up, 
still running. He bore her over his shoulder 
as he ran, with Clovia yelling questions, 
asking if he were mad. 

Downward he ran, downward until he 
stood on the ground floor of what had 
been a palace thousands of years before, 
and was now again --at least for the time 
being. As Niall ran, he saw that the walls 
and floor, although still seeming solid, 
were shimmering and fading. 

Just as he started to lower Clovia to 
the paving stones outside, the buildings 
disappeared, and they once again stood 
on the grass-infested debris of a ruined 
Hellios. 

Slowly he lowered the terrified Clovia 
to the ground. Her eyes stared up at him, 
mutely questioning. 

"What was it?" she quaked. "Why did 
you run so fast? What frightened you 
so?" 

"The thing we saw in Tartarus. It -- 
came for Dalvuus! It caught his soul -- or 
something -- in its grasp and carried him 
off." 

Sweat was running down Niall's face. 
With a brawny arm he wiped it away, and 
then a grin rose on his face. 

"He has what he wanted, that one. 
Now we shall take what we want." 

Clovia asked, "And what is it you want, 
Niall?" 

"Gold! Gold and jewels to see me on 
my way in this new world -- new, at least, 
to me -- into which I have been tossed." 
His arm went about her, hugging her. 
"Together, we can be rich, Clovia. We 
can hire a boat to take us to the southland, 
into rich cities." 

Clovia brooded. "I don't want to go." 

Niall stared at her. "Not go? What will 
you do, then? Die here?" 

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "It matters 
not to me. Hellios is dead. I might as 
well be dead, too." 

"Nonsense. Come along! Feast your 
eyes on treasure and you'll change your 
mind." 

He drew her unresisting toward the 
narrow stairway, relighted the torch Dalvuus 
had dropped, brought her with him 
back to the treasure chamber of the emperors 
and kings of Hellios. Clovia 
watched as Niall emptied out a sectio nof 
the leather pouch he carried at his belt 
and began to fill it with the biggest gold 
coins, diamonds, rubies and pearls he 
could find, making his selectoins carefully. 
When his treasure pouch was full, 
he turned to the woman who had sat on a 
chest and watched him, vacantly smiling. 

"Aren't you going to take anything?" 
he asked. "You'll need money in that 
world outside." 

Slowly she shook her head. "I will remain 
here. You go, Niall -- with my 
thanks. You helped destroy Dalvuus. 
You brought me here, to my birthplace. 
Here I shall stay, at least for a while." 

He tried to argue, but she was adamant. 

She walked with him to the cockboat, 
watched as he tossed the anchor into the 
boat and then entered it himself. The 
wind had picked up; the sail filled rapidly. 

"Come," begged Niall, making one last 
plea. "Come and see this world which 
will be new both to you and me." 

Clovia only shook her head, and in that 
instant, Niall realized how very old she 
was, though her flesh was that of a mature 
woman only. She lifted a hand and 
waved it, and as she did, the breezes 
caught the cockboat's sail and bore the 
craft out into the middle of the river. 

Niall turned back once, as the wind 
whipped her garments about her body 
and she walked back to the ruins of what 
was mighty Hellios, long and long ago. 

Niall could not see the glistening tears 
as they ran down her cheeks. Nor could 
he hear the silent sobs as they shook her 
body.. ..