"Word has come from Klarn," he sobbed from weariness. "The mekniks have invited the Darksiders to join them in expelling the dulars. They promise the Darksiders that, for their help, they will aid them to conquer the other cities of the Klarnva!"
Harth grunted curses, looking at Flane.
Flane patted his weapon and grinned mirthlessly, "We'd better hurry, Harth. Perhaps we can catch the Darksiders before they unite with the mekniks. If ever they join forces, even this violet fire in my hands may not be enough to stop them!"
He said to the messenger, "How many of the Darksiders go to Klarn?"
"They are as the stars twinkling in the sky on a cold winter night," he answered. "They have with them many queer engines of destruction. They march side by side with the mountain chain, so that we of the plains will not notice them."
"I posted spies on the fastest megathons we owned," said Harth. "Were they the ones who brought this news?"
"They are. They say that even if we could equip an army with megathons as fleet as theirs, there would be no chance to overtake the Darksiders."
Flane walked back and forth, like a caged valgon. He saw ruin of all his hopes crashing around him. No longer was there chance to unite Darksider and Klarnva, if once the mekniks and the outlanders joined forces. They would be mad with blood-lust, with the hot urge to kill and conquer. It was too late. Even the violet weapon could not help him.
Unless—
He whirled on Harth, crying, "Full speed over those mountains! We are the sole hope of the Klarnva, we in this magniship. Under our feet is the only power that can bring us to the Darksiders before they merge with the mekniks."