Nor did it seem that our foes would ever cease their stubborn
attacks, for still they came, though the way to our chamber was
often clogged with the bodies of their dead. At times they would
pause long enough to drag back the impeding corpses, and then fresh
warriors would forge upward to taste the cup of death.
I had been taking my turn with the others in defending the approach
to our lofty retreat when Mors Kajak, who had been watching the
battle in the street below, called aloud in sudden excitement.
There was a note of apprehension in his voice that brought me to
his side the instant that I could turn my place over to another,
and as I reached him he pointed far out across the waste of snow
and ice toward the southern horizon.
"Alas!" he cried, "that I should be forced to witness cruel fate
betray them without power to warn or aid; but they be past either
now."
As I looked in the direction he indicated I saw the cause of his
perturbation. A mighty fleet of fliers was approaching majestically
toward Kadabra from the direction of the ice-barrier. On and on
they came with ever increasing velocity.
"The grim shaft that they call the Guardian of the North is beckoning
to them," said Mors Kajak sadly, "just as it beckoned to Tardos
Mors and his great fleet; see where they lie, crumpled and broken,
a grim and terrible monument to the mighty force of destruction
which naught can resist.
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