ck the king, dead or alive.
Flathootly, delighted with his mission, started off at once in pursuit
of Bhoolmakar.

The terrorite battery proved our most effective weapon in castigating
the enemy. I could not thank Professor Rackiron sufficiently for his
great genius and mechanical skill in so rapidly perfecting his
weapons, which were modelled on the plan of the guns belonging to the
_Polar King_. Every discharge proved a blast of destruction to the
foe.

The deadly missiles wrought a fearful slaughter, steadily decimating
the ranks of the royal army, which had no similar weapons with which
to retaliate upon us.

The frightened hosts, constantly changing their focus, left behind
them vast heaps of the dead and wounded and globes of floating blood.

On one occasion the first brigade of fletyemings, led by General
Starbottle, in eagerly pursuing the enemy dashed through a pool of
blood three feet in thickness, and every wayleal emerged dripping with
gore.

Coltonobory, finding further resistance useless, at once surrendered
himself and his army to our mercy.

My brave wayleals, flushed with victory, saluted me with cries of
"Long live Lexington White, King of Atvatabar!"

But what was success now without the one priceless soul to share my
triumph?

Did ever glory so grand and defeat so terrible so mingle themselves in
human experience?

My wayleals, now for the first time hearing of the death of their
queen, would have torn Coltonobory to pieces had I not protected him.

I knew he was personally innocent, and my wayleals were already in
pursuit of the king.

We entered Calnogor in triumph. I heard on all sides a wail of
lamentation for Lyone, mingled with applause for the conqueror.

It was a scene in which conquest and misery, rapture and failure, life
and death, were indissolubly united.

CHAPTER LIV.

REINCARNATION.

The grand sorcerer Charka and his guard had with reverend flight borne
the body of their goddess Lyone to the palace of souls, mourning the
death of their adored, who had been so precious, so beautiful, so
holy.

The high priestess and the grand sorceress, together with the priests
and priestesses of Egyplosis, on hearing of the death of Lyone,
departed at once for Egyplosis, to mourn the death of their goddess.

Lyone was dead!

Ah me! what was triumph then, without my soul of souls to share its
delights? The blessed cup of joy, quivering to the brim, was about to
touch