Run, Garth thought. It wouldn't do much good, but the instinct was to run, to preserve life as long as possible. Run! Through the trees, up the hillside. Men were coming. Run. Was this the right turning? It was. Up the hill, up the nearer hill.
Only he couldn't run much farther. His heart was beginning to hurt. Didn't matter. Death came to everything eventually, to Xerxes, to Leonidas, to Charles Martel, to Copernicus, and Galileo. Death was coming to him at the hands of those angry, frightened men, coming quickly, unless he found what he sought, what he knew was here, somewhere.
Where was the thing he sought? He had to find it, quickly. He couldn't run much farther.
They were at the top of the nearer hill.
Then Garth saw what he was seeking.
A huge sphere. A ball made out of some strange, silvery metal. It rested on top of the nearer hill.
Garth and the girl staggered toward it.
Out from it reached twin fingers of light. The streamers touched Garth, they touched the girl.
"We're there," Garth sighed. "We've found the place. We've won. We're safe."
Yelping with the lust to kill, the men came through the woods, came up the hill.