“I’d fight!” shouted Elan. “I’d give him such a thrashing in the flames …”

“Then I cannot see that it matters if the rumor’s true or not.”

“I’ve burned a score of cities already. I think it is an idle tale … Still, thousands have perished to show him my force, should it indeed be him who leads this fabled host.”

They walked together as they talked and soon were along the balustrade above the royal residence.

“Are you afraid, Elan?” the Prince of Mirrors asked.

“No! Still I must go to the Plains of Man and see if this army exists.”

A Vollkon winged above the city. Its ugly head dipped low above the royal buildings. Its teeth were parted. The scaly plates of its abdomen were like corroded brass. Its six deadly claws were ready for the bidding of its Lord. Its six wings brought a turbulence like thunder.

It came to rest upon a marble finial and became a gargoyle on the palace wall grinning at the people far below.

Elan beckoned. The reptile left its perch and flew to him. He placed his foot upon a heavy wing and climbed across the dorsal scales. He sat down in the saddle on the grotesque neck. The dragon moved into the air and soared above the smoke of twenty cities.

XVI

“Good-bye, cruel world!” his letter said pinned to his shirt above the red. His world was cruel. We wondered why he felt he had to say “Good-bye!”

Dreamer shivered in the cold. The moon was bright and he decided to move rather than sleep in snow and ice. He knew the Troubadour was either on the skyway or this very planet where he trembled in the cold.

The trail turned down again. The frozen air stung his face.

By dawn of the second day he knew he had to rest. Desire had driven him to fatigue that could no longer be ignored. The Steppes were still three days away. But the worst part of the trip was behind. The slopes became gentle, the cold less severe.

He rested in a sunny place. There was no wind. The morning sun felt warm. He slept without awareness of the altitude and cold. His sleep erupted suddenly in cyclone colors. The streets of Lifeland were empty. While his weary flesh slumbered on the trail, he ran down the Avenue of Obelisques across the Phoenix’s Court. The gates were open, and the Army of the Liberation was so far down the skyway they could not be seen.

Dreamer was ecstatic! The Singer might be on the Plains of Man. A new excitement claimed him. The invasion might come while he slept upon the trail.

There was little point in staying longer. Lifeland did not exist without the Singer. Dreamer did not rest. He opened his eyes, stood, then hurried forward into afternoon.

At sunrise of the third day, he lay and slept as Invader stirred within. Sleep had lost desire and would not transport him to empty streets.