the magnitude of the blows: rocks and darts and shafts. The phalanx was shredded to pulp.
“By Opaz!” said Drak. “By Zair!” said Zeg. “By Vox!” said Vax.
I did not say anything. Excited screams burst out all about us. The men of Zandikar knew when succor had arrived. I saw the huge bulk of the skyship, enormous, deck piled on deck, all sustained and driven through the air by the power of the aerial mechanism, the silver boxes, deep in her hull. I looked. She seemed smothered with flags. There was the red of Zairia. But, over all, dominating and fluttering in the brave Kregen sunshine — Old Superb! My own flag, the yellow cross on the scarlet ground. Old Superb, my battle flag, floating in the streaming rays of the Suns of Scorpio. At the jackstaff flew the yellow saltire on the red ground, the flag of the Empire of Vallia. Many red and white flags of Valka, famous in song, fluttered from the masts. And there were other flags, also, flags I recognized as the flags of friends.
Another shadow sped across the ground and we all looked up, a flower-bed of faces, and another huge skyship circled up there and rained death and destruction down upon the Grodnim army. As though casually, a varter-sped rock flew and knocked from the sky the last Grodnim voller. It snapped and fell.
My three sons were gabbling away together, and Miam clasped Zeg, and I turned away, for even Duhrra stood by Vax, beaming in his cheerful idiotic way. Roz Janri and Pallan Zavarin joined them. I heard what was said, Drak dominating all.
“We have been saved by warriors from my own country. See the flags, the Vallian, the Valkan. And yet
— Old Superb — our father’s flag. That has not been flown for many years.”
“It is of no consequence!” shouted Zeg as we waited for the people from the skyship to join us. “See the Blue Mountain Boys! See the flags of Falinur and the Black Mountains! That means Seg and Inch! And the valkavol standards of Valka!”
The skyship was lifting to join her sisters in the sky as they went methodically about exterminating the least sign of Green. Now a fresh wonder was vouchsafed us. The people from the skyship were approaching us. But we looked up. A mass of flying specks leaped from the ship, fanning out, and the wide wings of saddle-birds beat against the sky. Orange streamers identified them, if the flutduins had not
— my Djangs! Those ferocious four-armed warrior Djangs! How the fluttrells wearing the green plunged and scattered like breeze-driven smoke!
I swallowed down, hard. By God! I am an old cynical case-hardened warrior. But in that moment — in that glorious moment — I relished as seldom I relished the mingled sunshine of Kregen, the heady intoxicating air, and the deep sure knowledge of friendship I know I do not deserve but which has blessed me in my new life on the planet four hundred light-years from the world of my birth. They were all there. It seemed to me they were
Seg and Inch, striding on, beaming. Turko the Shield, Balass the Hawk, Naghan the Gnat, Oby, Melow the Supple. Korf Aighos was there, Tilly, Kytun Kholin Dorn, his four arms windmilling in his excitement, but Ortyg Fellin Coper was not there, as was proper, for he would hold Djanduin when Kytun and I were both away. And — Prince Varden Wanek strode along brave in the powder blue of the Ewards. And, with him, Gloag! And Hap Loder! Incredible! I gaped. What had she been up to? Raising half of Kregen after me?
The Wizard of Loh, Khe-In-Bjanching, strode on busily talking to Evold Scavander, two wise Sans absorbed in arcane lore despite their surroundings. And there were others there I knew, men like Wersting Rogahan, and Jiktar Orlon Llodar. I guessed Vangar ti Valkanium and Tom Tomor, Elten of Avanar, were aloft conducting the aerial operations and finishing the Magdaggians. Drak and Zeg and Vax took a few paces forward, free of the rest of us, as the crowd from the skyship approached. It struck none of us to rush forward. We stood. And, among the crowd walking toward us all smiling and laughing — I might have guessed! — staggered two rascals skylarking and upturning bottles. “Stylor!” they crowed, beaming and drinking by turns. Oh, yes, they were there, my two favorite rascals, my two oar-comrades, Nath and Zolta.
So the crowd around Queen Miam waited, and the three princes of Vallia stepped forth proudly in this moment of victory. I stood a little to one side of them, in the random shadow of a tower, and I, too, savored the moment of victory. But more than that I savored, I luxuriated in, I stared devouringly at she who walked at the head of all my friends. Slender, lissome, superb, clad in russet hunting leathers, with the brave old scarlet sash about her, the rapier and the dagger swinging at her sides, her long brown hair free about her shoulders with the suns casting gorgeous auburn highlights in that lush profusion of beauty, she walked in light, glorious, glorious. .
Drak and Zeg and Vax who was Jaidur took another step forward. They held out their arms in welcome. I stood to the side and watched, for I could not see their faces, but I know they were smiling and happy. Her three sons welcomed her, and they called, “Mother!” Drak and Zeg and Jaidur, happy, laughing, calling, “Mother!”
She lifted her own arms. She was smiling and I felt myself trembling, felt the choke, the ache in my throat.
“Mother!” called the three brothers and held out their arms.
She held out her own arms and began to run because she could not hold back in regal dignity any longer. The moment for ritual observances had flown. No longer was she the Princess Majestrix, imperial granddaughter of the emperor of Vallia, she was a woman and her heart, like mine, was bursting. Straight toward her three sons she ran. I stood to the rear of them and to the side, in the shadows, and I felt all the crushing weight of twenty-one years pressing down on me. Directly toward the outstretched arms of those three stalwart young men ran their mother and they broke and ran toward her in filial love. Straight past them she ran. Past their outstretched arms, past the welcoming smiles upon their faces, past the three of them, and so I stood forward. And she threw herself into my arms and I held her close, close, and I could not see anything in the whole world of Kregen but my Delia.
Chapter Twenty-one
“My
“That insolent rast my
“The hyr Jikai Zadak my
Well, poor lads, it was hard for them.
There is little left to tell.
I, Dray Prescot, Prince Majister of Vallia, Strom of Valka, King of Djanduin, Lord of Strombor — and much else besides — held my Delia and I most certainly would not let her go. We gathered in the High Hall and there was the most sumptuous shindig.
I forced away the dark and terrible news I must tell Delia. Her daughter Velia was dead. But she had news for me that set me back, for she had gone home from the inner sea when Seg and Inch had come for her on the island of Zy after I had seen her in a stinking fish cell. Those two had stolen a skyship from the emperor and gone looking for me. Seg had been in Erthyrdrin and Inch in Ng’groga when my letters at last reached them. But they had taken Delia back, for she had seen me and understood that with the help of Nath and Zolta I must work out my own salvation. At home in Esser Rarioch she had given birth to a daughter. We would call this dearly beloved daughter Velia.
“So now you know why I made you look at the dead face of Gafard. He was not an altogether evil man.” The three faces of my sons reflected indescribable emotions. “He was your brother-in-law.”
Delia insisted on looking, also, and she turned away and held me close, and said, “Dear Velia. Dear Velia.”
She would overcome her sorrow in time.
As to Zeg and Jaidur, they were hot for continuing the war against the Grodnims. The situation of the Eye of the World was now back to where it had been before Genod had set out on his road of conquest. With his genius for war removed, the Red southern shore would be cleansed of the Green centers of infection. From Zimuzz west to Shazmoz all would be Red once more. Drak put his chin in his hands and said he had to return to Vallia, for trouble brewed there and the Racters were not the only ones involved. Just what their attitude to me would be, now that they knew just who I was, remained to be seen. They studiously avoided any mention of the past differences. But I said, “I go to Zy. There is a matter between me and Pur Kazz, the Grand Archbold.”
