There were only two hundred to meet the charge of two thousand. The end
was inevitable.

As the barrier went down, Jack Odin and Maya urged their men to climb
upon the balcony. Odin was the last to retreat. A soldier caught at him
as he scrambled upward and Odin turned and slashed him across the face.

Ato was calling his men around him. They drew back to a corner where two
thick walls met. Ato had placed one bench there. This he stood upon,
calling out orders and cheering them on as the attackers climbed the
unsteady tiers of benches and tables to reach them. The defenders gathered
around. There were not over fifty of them left now. Odin thrust Maya behind
him. A body fell at his feet. He bent and lifted up a twelve-year-old boy
who was streaming from wounds. He handed the lad to Maya.

Grim Hagen led the attack. Odin braced himself. He took one step forward
and waited. Seeing him, Grim Hagen veered toward him, screaming a mad
battle-cry--his eyes wild with hate. Even in what appeared to be the last
moment, Jack Odin saw that only three or four of the white-skinned soldiers
were left; and not over a dozen of the Brons who had stayed with Grim
Hagen during all those wasting years remained.

He did not take his eyes from Grim Hagen. He was conscious only of a sudden
flickering, as of many lights twinkling on and off. But he did not know
what was happening. Maya told him later.

Ato was already bleeding badly from a deep slash in his shoulder. As he
rallied his men around him, someone threw a knife that buried itself in the
right side of his chest. He stumbled and went down to his knees. Then he
struggled up, and as he stood straight he reached down to his waist and
clutched the little slug-horn of moon-metal that his father had given him.
His head went back as he raised the horn to his lips. Like Childe Roland,
who came at last to the Dark Tower, he blew one unheard blast.

* * * * *

Suddenly the room was filled with lights, flashing and dancing everywhere.
Whispering.

A stillness fell upon the room and the shambles. Men paused as they lifted
their knives or braced themselves for a last thrust.

For a single breath, all was in silence.

Then a light began to whisper. "Ato, it is I, your father, Wolden. We have
learned the secret of time and space and we have come for you, my son. But
before we go, we must rid ourselves of the mischief-makers."

The lights darted down upon G