side and
went away, down the steps.

The plain was now in utter darkness, under the faint, far Northern
stars.

Stark settled himself against the parapet. There was a sort of timeless
patience about him. Balin envied it. He would have liked to go with
Thanis. He was cold and doubtful, but he stayed.

Time passed, endless minutes of it, lengthening into what seemed hours.

Stark said, "Can you hear them?"

"No."

"They come." His hearing, far keener than Balin's, picked up the little
sounds, the vast inchoate rustling of an army on the move in stealth and
darkness. Light-armed men, hunters, used to stalking wild beasts in the
show. They could move softly, very softly.

"I hear nothing," Balin said, and again they waited.

The westering stars moved toward the horizon, and at length in the east
a dim pallor crept across the sky.

The plain was still shrouded in night, but now Stark could make out the
high towers of the King City of Kushat, ghostly and indistinct--the
ancient, proud high towers of the rulers and their nobles, set above the
crowded Quarters of merchants and artisans and thieves. He wondered who
would be king in Kushat by the time this unrisen sun had set.

"You were wrong," said Balin, peering. "There is nothing on the plain."

Stark said, "Wait."

* * * * *

Swiftly now, in the thin air of Mars, the dawn came with a rush and a
leap, flooding the world with harsh light. It flashed in cruel
brilliance from sword-blades, from spearheads, from helmets and
burnished mail, from the war-harness of beasts, glistened on bare russet
heads and coats of leather, set the banners of the clans to burning,
crimson and gold and green, bright against the snow.

There was no sound, not a whisper, in all the land.

Somewhere a hunting horn sent forth one deep cry to split the morning.
Then burst out the wild skirling of the mountain pipes and the broken
thunder of drums, and a wordless scream of exultation that rang back
from the Wall of Kushat like the very voice of battle. The men of Mekh
began to move.

Raggedly, slowly at first, then more swiftly as the press of warriors
broke and flowed, the barbarians swept toward the city as water sweeps
over a broken dam.

Knots and clumps of men, tall men running like deer, leaping, shouting,
swinging their great brands. Riders, spurring their mounts until they
fled belly down. Spears, axes, sword-blades tossing, a sea of men and
b