The fourth Kali was undone. It tried to go forward against that jewel-fire. Then it hesitated and darted back. With a shrill cry of fear it flung itself into Nea’s arms, its coppery tentacles holding her close in a last effort to escape destruction.
She had said before that the Kalis were the nearest things to human that could be made. She had been the poor relation, the daughter of a dreaming failure. Perhaps something of the fear and doubt which Nea had known all her life had gone into the making of the Kalis. She screamed once—more in bewilderment than pain, as though a favorite cat had suddenly clawed her. She must have been dead before she fell, and the last Kali clung to her bosom and spread its copper-wires about her face. It emitted one weak purr—then it stopped purring and moving forever.
Grim Hagen’s Lorens who had been clinging to the hedges now came forward triumphantly. Strength came back to Gunnar and Odin. The attackers had cleared the stairway again. And once more Gunnar and Odin threw them back.
By now both Ato and Maya had swung their shattered little armies over to the subway entrance.
Hagen had retreated from the dais. Meeting the advancing Lorens, he led them forward.
Those on the stairway retreated as they saw that they were no longer against two warriors.
Gunnar rested his sword against his leg and reached out with huge arms and pulled Ato and Odin toward him. “Down there,” he pointed toward the stairway. “There is plenty of room to fight, and those who have been coming up don’t seem to be so strong. Force your way down there and make another stand. Make a barricade if you can. Up here you will soon be surrounded.”
“But Grim Hagen will be at our heels—” Odin protested.
Gunnar laughed deep in his throat. “Oh, no. The stairway is narrow. A strong man could hold the entrance for some time—perhaps a long, long time. And Gunnar is strong. To get at you, Grim Hagen would either have to go down this stairway or take another entrance. These entrances, are few and far apart.”