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ury in his veins； indomitability in his bones； extravagant triumph in his eyes。
Yet they outweighed him。 They were too many。 Any moment now； one of them would drive a sword into his back； and he would be finished。 Through the savage clash of bat； he heard a high； strange cry of victory； but he hardly knew that he had made it himself。
Then； unexpectedly； he glimpsed the light of a fire through a brief gap in his attackers。 It disappeared instantly； vanished as if it had never happened。 But he had recognized it。 He shouted again and began to fight toward it。 Ignoring the danger at his back； he reaped a break in the avalanche ahead。 There he saw the fire again。
It was the blaze of a Hirebrand。
On the rim of the hollow； Hearthrall Borillar and the last of the Waynhim fought together against Mhoram's foes。 Borillar used his flaming staff like a mace； and the Waynhim supported him with their own powers。 Together they struggled impossibly to rescue the High Lord。
At the sight of them； Mhoram faltered； he could see immense monsters rising up to smite them； and their peril interrupted his concentration。 But he recovered； surged toward them； driving his staff until it screamed in his hands。
Too many creatures were pressed between him and his rescuers； he could not reach them in time。 While he fought slipping and plowing through the blood； he saw Borillar slain； saw the formation of the Waynhim broken； scattered。 He almost fell himself under his inability to help them。
But with their deaths they had purchased a thinning in the flood of attackers at that point。 Through that thinning came Drinny of the Ranyhyn； bucking and charging to regain his rider。
His violent speed carried him down into the hollow。 He crashed through creatures； leaped over them； hacked them out of his way。 Before they could brace themselves to meet him； Drinny had reached the High Lord。
Mhoram sprang onto the Ranyhyn's back。 From that vantage； he brought his power down on the heads of his assailants； while Drinny kicked and plunged back up the hillside。 In moments； they crested the rim and broke into clearer ground beyond it。
As he guided Drinny ahead； Mhoram caught a glimpse of the War…ward。 It had rallied around Quaan and was struggling in the High Lord's direction。 The riders charged to break up the ranks of the enemy； then the other warriors rushed to take advantage of the breach。 But they were pletely engulfed…a small； valiant island in the sea of Satansfist's army。 Their progress was tortuous； their losses atrocious。 High Lord Mhoram knew of only one effective way to help them； and he took Drinny toward it without an instant of hesitation。
Together； they pursued samadhi Raver。
Satansfist was only fifty yards away。 He stood on a knoll from which he could direct the battle。 And he was alone； all his forces were engaged elsewhere。 He towered atop the hill like a monolith of hatred and destruction； wielding his army with the force of green ill。
Holding his staff ready； Mhoram sent the Ranyhyn lunging straight into the teeth of the winter…straight at samadhi。 When he was scant strides away from his foe； he cried his challenge：
〃Melenkurion abatha！ Duroc minas mill khabaal！〃
With all his strength； he leveled a blast of Lords…fire at the Raver's leering skull。
Satansfist knocked the attack down as if it were negligible； disdainfully； he slapped Mhoram's blue out of the air with his Stone and returned a bolt so full of cold emerald force that it scorched the atmosphere as it moved。
Mhoram sensed its power； knew that it would slay him if it struck。 But Drinny dodged with a fleet； fluid motion which belied the wrenching change of his momentum。 The bolt missed； crashed instead into the creatures pursuing the High Lord； killed them all。
That gave Mhoram the instant he needed。 He corrected Drinny's aim； cocked his staff over his shoulder。 Before samadhi could unleash another blast； the High Lord was upon him。
Using all Drinny's speed； all the strength of his body； all the violated passion of his love for the Land； Mhoram swung。 His staff caught Satansfist squarely across the forehead。
The concussion ripped Mhoram from his seat like a dry leaf in the wind。 His staff shattered at the blow； exploded into splinters； and he hit the ground amid a brief light rain of wood slivers。 He was stunned。 He rolled helplessly a few feet over the frozen earth； could not stop himself； could not regain his breath。 His mind went blank for an instant； then began to ache as his body ached。 His hands and arms were numb； paralyzed by the force which had burned through them。
Yet even in his daze； he had room for a faint amazement at what he had done。
His blow had staggered Satansfist； knocked him backward。 The Giant…Raver had fallen down the far side of the knoll。
With a gasp； Mhoram began to breathe again。 Spikes of sensation dug into his arms； dazzling pain filled his vision。 He tried to move； and after a moment succeeded in rolling onto his side。 His hands hung curled on the ends of his wrists as if they were crippled； but he shifted his shoulder and elbow； turned himself onto his stomach； then levered himself with his forearms until he gained his knees。 There he rested while the pain of returning life stabbed its way down into his fingers。
The sound of heavy steps； heavy breathing； made him look up。
Samadhi Sheol stood over him。
Blood poured from Satansfist's forehead into his eyes； but instead of blinding him； it seemed only to enrich his raving ferocity。 His lips were contorted with a paroxysm of savage glee； ecstatic rage shone on his wet teeth。 In the interlocked clasp of his fists； the Illearth Stone burned and fumed as if it were on the brink of apotheosis。
Slowly； he raised the Stone over Mhoram's head like an ax。
Transfixed； stunned…as helpless as a sacrifice…Mhoram watched his death rise and poise above him。
In the distance； he could hear Quaan shouting wildly； uselessly； 〃Mhoram！ Mhoram！〃 On the ground nearby； Drinny groaned and strove to regain his feet。 Everywhere else there was silence。 The whole battle seemed to have paused in midblow to watch Mhoram's execution。 And he could do nothing but kneel and regret that so many lives had been spent for such an end。
Yet when the change of the air came an instant later； it was so intense； so vibrant and thrilling； that it snatched him to his feet。 It made Satansfist arrest his blow； gape unprehendingly into the sky； then drop his fists and whirl to shout strident curses at the eastern horizon。
For that moment； Mhoram also only gaped and gasped。 He could not believe his senses； could not believe the touch of the air on his cold…punished face。 He seemed to be tasting something which had been lost from human experience。
Then Drinny lurched up； braced himself on splayed legs； and raised his head to neigh in recognition of the change。 His whinny was weak and strained； but it lifted Mhoram's heart like the trumpets of triumph。
While he and Satansfist and all the armies stared at it； the wind faltered。 It limped； spurting and fluttering in the air like a wou