Nelson felt the uplift of a queer buoyancy, as though an oppressive weight had been lifted from him. He knew, now. He knew that this Brotherhood that had at first seemed to his outer-world eyes so unnatural and alien was worth all sacrifices to preserve. He had learned that in the body of Asha the wolf.
And he felt strangely happy. For ten years he had fought the purposeless battles of warlords, first for adventure and then because he had no other profession. But this last battle was to be for a cause that he thought worth all he had to give.
Kree, as the Clan-leaders hurried out, led Nelson to a window that looked southward over Vruun.
"The hour comes fast upon us, outlander!"
Nelson was appalled by the spectacle. He realized now that hours had passed, for the sun was westering in a bloody, smoky murk. The whole southern sky was a wall of black smoke laced with livid flame — a wall that marched toward Vruun and was but a few miles distant. Only the forests west of the river were burning, but they were burning from the river to the western hills.
"That fire will be here in a few hours and Sloan and Van Voss and the Humanites will come after it!" Nelson exclaimed.
Kree nodded. "But we hope to stop it. The men of Vruun have labored all day to cut a fire-break from the river to the western hills."
"No mere fire-break will stop that!" Nelson told him emphatically. "It will jump it. You've got to start a backfire."
"Use fire as a defense against fire?" Kree looked worried. "The Clans would not like it. They hate all fire."
"Either that or the blaze will come into Vruun tonight!" Nelson warned.