. They fed more fuel to the fires and waited.

Maya was at Odin's side now. They clung together. Jack Odin kissed her
and swore that they would never be parted again.

"Until death--" Maya said and raised her lips to his.

He shivered. It was a promise and an assurance that might be kept too
soon. The fires could not burn much longer. Grim Hagen's power over the
Lorens might be questioned after the havoc that had been wreaked in the
city above. But Hagen and his white-skinned soldiers could still fight.
And Grim Hagen's hate was hotter than the fires that were now dying out
in the tunnels.

Ato joined them. He had proven himself a general. Outnumbered all the way,
he had broken Grim Hagen's lines time and again during that awful night.

"I think we had better wait behind the barricades and make our last stand
upon the balcony," he said. "We can't defend five entrances at the same
time."

Odin agreed.

"Some of Maya's people are unarmed. We still have a few of the Lorens who
joined us. They are good fighters. Better than the Lorens who are with
Grim Hagen. Apparently, he drew his following from the weakest among them."

"Aye," Val the Loren agreed. He had fought near Ato's side all through the
night, and his lean left hand was rubbing two deep cuts across his chest.
"They have already had enough. But they have asked the wild things of the
moss-country to dine with them, and now they can't get rid of their guests.
If Grim Hagen and his soldiers should die, they would give up in a minute."

"Are your men still armed, Val?" Odin asked.

"Aye. They know to hang on to their weapons."

"Not all of Maya's people are," Odin said. "I don't like the idea of the
children and old men fighting."

"Children and old men have fought before," Ato answered simply. "If this
should be the last time, then the battle would be worth the blood. Anyway,
I have set them to fashioning lances and staves from wood that we saved
from the fires."

They waited. All the troops and all the weapons were moved behind the
barricade.

Some of the best throwers were mounted upon the improvised balcony.
They had rigged up a rude catapult from some lumber and ropes. They had
barrels of nails and spikes for ammunition. Odin wished for some good
bowmen, but the bow was as foreign to the Lorens as it was to the Brons.
There was nothing left to do except move all the workshop's water-pails
and sand-buckets behind the barricade in case of fire.

So