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They were trying to smile out of the dark, but a cold fog was creeping from the walls of the tunnel, settling about the shadows, and driving them back, farther and farther into all pervading nothingness. Seeing his misery, Gunnar had clutched Odin's arm. "These were things of the past, Nors-King, and the things of the past belong to the old dragon. Let us not complain if he has taken them at last.
The man sat down calmly, though still gasping for breath, and began to wipe the blade of his knife upon his thigh. He had regained some of his breath when Odin reached him. Rubbing a gashed forearm and smiling as though such a meeting were an every-day occurrence he called out cheerfully. "Ho, Nors-King. I knew you would come. Sooner or later you would be here and we would go hunting together."
"Now, take a deep breath, Nors-King, for the air gets worse before it gets better." He was right. The stench of dead things came crawling upward to meet them. Soon the floor was littered with the things from Opal's sea that had crept here to die. Huge, fanged saurians, lizards, toads, snakes.
Then they plunged through the entrances in a flood, armed with only knives and clubs. Meanwhile, Ato's guns were going out. The last became a white torch when a magnesium blob struck it. The side-arms were all gone. They fought now with sword and knife. Jack Odin felt a heavy hand upon his arm. Gunnar was at his side. "It is even as I foretold you, Nors-King. The weapons are all gone.
You know how the Brons number their kin to the seventh generation. Her father was one of the Scientists. A brilliant man but a poor provider. However, he died nobly. Remember, Nors-King, Nea's branch of the family is a strange group. They have done brilliant things, but they have thought up some hare-brained schemes, too. As I said before, she is also kin to Grim Hagen " Another day had passed.
And there Gunnar used to bathe. This is slop, Nors-King. Nothing but slop." Odin laughed again. "You are getting old, Gunnar. Did anyone ever guarantee that ford to you for always?" Gunnar, dripping water, and with a towel wrapped around his middle, came dashing into the room. He stood there, his arms and shoulders flexed. "And does Gunnar look too old to fight?" he asked. Odin blinked.
"Look, I told you that my magic would do great tricks. See, the bag is nearly empty." He held the buckskin bag high and it was much thinner than before. "You waited, did you? Good, Nors-King. I had to make sure that no one came here while I was gone." "Just myself," Odin replied. "Now what " "Oh, I told you I had great magic in that bag. You shall see."
"Well, little man, it was all a bright dream that went too fast. And are we to stay here on this ledge 'til doomsday while you try to re-spin the broken threads of the past?" So Gunnar's thoughts came back to the present and his big shoulders heaved when he laughed. "Eh! Spoken like a Nors-King, Odin. I must be getting old. Well, there's a way from here to the sea.
Odin could see no sign of breath. But he touched her hand and it was warm. He knelt beside her. "Here," Gunnar handed him the light. "Hold this while I get busy. Here now, Nors-King. No blubbering." He opened his buckskin bag and took out the last of its treasures a small hypodermic case. He filled the hypodermic from a little vial that glittered in the light of the lamp.
"Hang on to your sword and knife, Nors-King. We will need them yet." With the umbrella frames held over them, as though protecting them from a flood, they went through the barrier. Beyond it, thousands of men rose up from the scarred plain to join them. Val had a much larger following than Odin had ever guessed. These men were swathed in long coats and capes.
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