He listened for Idris' breathing, but failed to detect any sound: Idris, if he were really here, was as still as the dead.
There was no other course for Godfrey than to grope about until he came upon the body of Idris, an unpleasant task, seeing that it might bring him into contact with the bones of Vikings!
He started forward at random. Five paces, and his knee knocked against some obstruction. Putting out his hand he ascertained that directly in front of him was something formed of hewn stone.
With an instinctive feeling that this was a tomb, Godfrey gave it a wide range, and in so doing stumbled and fell over another object.
It was a human body. In a moment Godfrey was upon his knees, and passing his hand quickly over the prostrate figure he discovered that it was Idris in a state of coma.
Quickly he felt for the match-box which Idris had put into his vest pocket, and on finding it, drew it forth. Taking out one of the wax-lights he struck it on the side of the box.
Never within Godfrey's experience had the striking of a match been attended with a result so appalling, for he immediately found himself in an atmosphere of many-coloured flame. The hot breath of a fiery furnace glowed around, dazzling his eyes, scorching his face.
In that moment of bewilderment and terror the words of the runic ring flashed through his mind, and found expression in his gasping articulation:
"The fires of the Asas!"
Simultaneously with the illumination a fierce detonation like a powder-blast rent the air, and Godfrey, flung backwards as by a giant hand, tumbled senseless to the ground.