Daiv, man of action, tired swiftly of this maundering. For the second time that afternoon he reached for Meg's hand.
"Come, Golden One! Let these fools die; let them become stiffened twigs of humans as the branches we saw in the forest were stiffened and dwarfed trees! I will take you to safety—"
Meg took a step forward. And then—one of the Women laughed. A sneering laugh. Meg's cheeks flamed, and her outstretched hand dropped to her side. She shook her head.
"No, Daiv." Sadly. "I had not dreamed you were—"
"A coward?" Daiv supplied the word wrathfully. "I am a coward to wisely flee from the magic of men who know the secrets of the Ancient Ones? By the Gods, Golden One, it is you who have lost your senses. If you will not come willingly, I'll save you in spite of yourself. Come!"
And he sprang toward her. Meg stumbled backward, torn by a thousand conflicting emotions. Then, of a sudden, came that which coalesced all her emotions into one indistinguishable chaos. There came a mighty roaring sough from the woodlands south of the village; a portion of the walls caved inward with a mighty crash; spent air howled like the breath of the flood-time gods, and—
In the opening, golden sunlight gleamed on glinting armor! A horde of dwarfed and evil yellow men, shining sticks in their hands, stormed in through the rent!
CHAPTER III
The Mate of Grensu