On he climbed. The light grew. His legs were now so weary they trembled.

At last he came to a Vollkon’s lair and ascended through a darkened corner of its cavern. In the flickering torches he saw the hideous beast, far too close at hand, feeding on a trophy. The smell of fetid flesh was heavy in the chamber. For a moment Dreamer thought the Vollkon saw him. The beast snorted, held up its scaly head and stared at the ladder shaft.

Dreamer’s heart stopped. Two sentries, undisturbed, dragged up another carcass. The dragon lowered its head and ate. Dreamer passed on.

Above the Vollkon cavern the shaft opened on a mountain top. Dreamer blinked in the brilliant sunlight. The mountains were alive with crystalline magnificence. But Dreamer had no time to admire the morning. A single sentry barred his way.

He thought he might slip quietly behind the guard, gaining the ledges undetected. But as he stepped from the ladder points, the new snow crunched beneath his feet. The sentry wheeled. Dreamer was discovered.

The startled sentry lunged, but Dreamer stepped adroitly to the side. His assailant fell too near the opening of the shaft and only the ladder points could break his fall.

He tried in vain to grasp the wooden posts but his heavy gloves would not let his fingers grasp his hopes. He slid past the posts, clawing helplessly—first at the ladder, then at the air. His scream echoed down the cavern shafts.

Dreamer knew the wail would rouse the Vollkon feeding just below. He hurried down the sunny, icy trail along the ledges which would lead him to the Steppes of Varge and Thade.

In spite of his fatigue his legs found strength. His feet fell firmly on the snowy trail. The morning ledges were steep but comfortable. His fear of pursuit left him. The sentry lay undiscovered at the bottom of the shaft.

By afternoon the descent became treacherous. He sensed the coming of a storm. Then the trail turned upward, and he had to climb an outcropping of granite glistening with ice.

While he hung upon the wall like a frozen insect, a Vollkon scream caused his flesh to crawl. He dropped quickly upon a ledge and pulled his aching torso beneath a stony overhang.

Flattened against the wall, he watched the Vollkon pass. Its scaly wings throbbed thunder as it flew toward the Steppes of Varge and Thade. Dreamer’s fear was intense but groundless. The Vollkon was not seeking him.

Only when the dragon passed could he notice that two men rode the saddle on its neck. He could not see their faces but the second wore a black cape that fluttered in the air and the fabric underneath the fluttering cloak was frayed.

XV

Conflict is the habit of the ages.

War’s amputees sire children eager to mature and take their bloody turn at death.

“Sir,” a sentry said, “there are reports an army is advancing toward the Plains of Man.”