“Go with Maya, Ato,” Odin said, “and I will stay here with Gunnar.”
“No. The entrance is narrow. You would be in the way,” Gunnar protested. “Now, go! Oh, but the valkyries will be busy tonight!”
Ato and Odin led the rush down the stairs. There were only a dozen men below and they had already tired of warfare. Three fell and the others rushed off into the shadows.
Ato’s and Maya’s fighters tumbled after them. There were only a few of the old people and children left.
Now they found themselves in a huge room which was filled with benches and small machines. It was evidently a wood-working shop. The room was lit by several of the high-flaring cressets of stone. It was rectangular, about the size of a football field. They were fortunate that there was no heavy machinery left here. From each side, dim-lighted tunnels led off into the distance. While Odin and the strongest soldiers guarded, Ato and his people shoved benches, tables and chairs to the four tunnels and set them afire. There were still quite a number of benches left, and some of these were stacked close together into one corner of the room, making a sort of rude balcony that looked down upon the littered floor. More benches and machines were left. These were made into a barricade a few yards in front of the balcony.
All was done now that could be done. So Odin rushed back to the stairway to help Gunnar. But his heart sank as he stood at the foot of the stairs. Up there was nothing but swirling, violet flame. Some liquid was burning furiously at the entrance-way, and blazing rivulets were pouring down the steps. There was no way to go through those flames. There was now no way to go around. Gunnar, if he lived at all, must fight alone. And Odin’s eyes filled with tears as he cursed himself for deserting his old comrade.
The attackers were almost upon Gunnar before the last of Maya’s rag-tag army had gone down the stairs. There were high bannisters around the entrance-way. These afforded plenty of protection to his back and flanks unless someone scaled them, which he doubted. One of the heavy cressets was burning nearby. It seemed to be no more than a huge, open lamp. Standing upon a circular base about three feet across, the twelve-inch stem went up nearly eight feet and then flared out into a tulip-shaped bowl that was filled with flickering violet fire. Bending low, Gunnar grasped the bottom of the stem and moved it a little closer to the stairway entrance. It took all of his strength, but it moved, complaining as it slid along the flagging. Now he was almost under it. The light was in his opponents’ faces, and it gave a little added protection to his left side.