Sloan jumped to his feet, on the edge of the cleft of cold fire, standing magnified to giant proportions by the curtain of shaking light behind him as he swiftly leveled his gun at Nelson.
"This time there won't be any—"
A slim, flying thing of metal flashed past Nelson's head from behind him — a flung sword. It struck Sloan, not point foremost as had been intended, but flatly. The impact knocked him backward.
His foot clawed the edge of the cleft, he staggered and toppled backward still gripping the submachine-gun, then vanished into that blaze of radiant light.
A scream came out of that glory of cold fire — a scream that made Nelson feel sick.
He forced himself to turn around. Van Voss lay staring up with pale empty eyes at the Cavern roof, his throat torn out. Tark's fangs showed red in the shaking glare and there was madness in the wolf's eyes.
"Hoik, listen!"
Shan Kar, sitting in the dust between the pillars with blood streaming from his breast, had uttered that whispered call.
And Shan Kar, he knew now, was the one who, with dying strength, had flung the sword and toppled Nick Sloan into the most terrible of deaths. The Humanite's face was a gray mask. Hoik, who had stood stunned by the swift turn of events, came toward him. Nelson, gripping his bleeding arm, went too.
"Hoik, listen to the record of the ancients — then let the others listen too," Shan Kar whispered. "Let the war end, the Brotherhood be restored. I sinned when I tried to break it."