The Guardian stood outlined in the suddenly brighter glow of distant firelight, his hand raised as his voice rolled out onto the river.
"Men of Anshan, will you destroy all L'Lan in blood and fire? Wrath of the ancients, wrath of the Cavern, fall upon you if you follow this road farther!"
"Kree, get back!" yelled Nelson, leaping forward.
He was too late. The burst of submachine-gun fire that came from out there on the rafts was brutally, contemptuously short. Kree clutched his breast and went down in the water. And Nelson heard Nick Sloan's voice from out there.
"Good shooting, Piet!"
A mad cry, a cry that was a thought and a howl and a scream of fury, went through the Clans.
"The Guardian is slain!"
Nelson, turning to drag Kree's body ashore, felt his heart check as he saw why the firelight was suddenly brighter now. The forest between them and their firebreak was a wall of flame, marching southward toward them.
"Our backfire has jumped the gap while we fought here!" he cried. "We can't stop it now — Vruun is doomed!"