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the fight until he fainted； and when he recovered his senses he watched again； for the fight was still in progress。 When his thirst became overpowering； he made a great effort and managed to turn and twist himself enough to get a drink from the muddied； bloodied water of the small stream。 Then he lay back and kept his mind off his own pain and injury by watching the fight some more。
The sun set on the struggle。 It went on； with pauses … Birch supposed that even gods in this kind of agony must rest … through the night。 The dark was filled with titanic thrashings and groanings； and splashing in the river where it gurgled gorily and patiently over and around the new dam that had been made out of human disaster。
At least； Birch told himself in his more lucid moments； he was not going to have to worry about predatory animals ing and trying to make a meal of him as he lay wounded。 What ordinary beast would dare approach this scene？
When dawn came； Birch found himself still alive； somewhat to his own surprise。 In the new daylight he beheld the ground； over the entire area around the ford； littered with broken spearshafts and spearheads； and with monstrous dead or lethargic serpents that had once been spears； all relics of the fight that still went on。
Or did it？ This latest interval of silence seemed to be lasting for a longer time than usual。
There was a great； startling； earth…quivering crash； somewhere nearby； just out of Birch's sight； behind some overturned and smashed…up wagons that screened a large part of his field of vision。 The ground shook with the renewed fight； which once more seemed to terminate in a final splash。 In a moment the watching human was able to see and feel the waves indicating that the two batants； still locked together； had plunged into the partially dammed pool of the river。
Now for a time Birch could no longer hear them fighting； except for occasional splashes that gradually decreased in violence。 But now he could hear the two gods breathing。 Ought gods to have to breathe？ Birch wondered groggily。 Maybe they only did it when they chose； like eating and drinking。 Maybe they only did it when they needed extra strength。
Time passed in near silence。 Then as the newly risen sun crept higher in the sky； a shadow fell across Birch where he lay。 The man opened his eyes； to behold the figure of yet another god。 Thank Ardneh； this one had not yet noticed the surviving human either。
Birch knew at once； by the leather…like smith's apron worn by the newer； and by the twisted leg； that this was Vulcan。 The lame god was wearing at his side two great； blackhilted Swords； looking like mere daggers against the gray bulk of his body。 He squatted on his haunches； looking down into the pool where the two fighters had gone out of Birch's field of vision。 Now there was a renewed stirring in the pool； at last。 A muttering； a splash。 A great grin spread across the face of the Smith as he stood up and leisurely approached the bat a little more closely。 Before he sat down again； on a rock； he kicked a broken cart out of his way。 This incidentally cleared the field of view for the injured man； of whose existence none of the three giants had yet taken the least notice。
〃Hail； oh mighty Wargod！〃 The salutation came from Vulcan in tones of gigantic mockery。 〃The world awaits your conquering presence。 Have you not dallied here long enough？ What are you doing down there； exactly … bathing your pet dog in the mud？〃
Birch could see now how red the mud and water were around them both。 Of the two batants； Draffut could no longer fight； could hardly move。 The God of War was little better off than his bedraggled foe。 But now； slowly； terribly； with great gasping efforts； Mars dragged himself free of his opponent's biting； crushing grip； and stood erect； ankle…deep in mud。
When the Wargod tried to speak his voice was half…inaudible； failing altogether on some words。 It seemed that he could barely lift the arm that he stretched out to Vulcan。 〃A spear … a weapon … I have no more spears。 Lend me your Sword； Smith。 One of them； I see that you have two。 This business must be finished。〃
Vulcan sighed； producing a sound like that of wind rushing through a smoldering forge。 He remained where he was； still some twenty meters or so distant from the other two。 〃Give you a weapon； hey？ Well； I suppose I must； since you appear to be the victor in this shabby business after all。 How tiresome。〃
Mars； though tottering on his feet； managed to draw himself a little more fully erect。
〃How mannered you suddenly grow； Blacksmith。 How fond you suddenly are of trying to appear clever。 Why should that be？ But never mind。 Put steel here in my hand； and I'll finish this dirty job。〃
〃I grant you；〃 said Vulcan； 〃there is a need that certain things be finished。〃 And the Smith stood up from where he had been sitting； and his ornaments of dragons' scales tinkled as he chose and drew one of his Swords。
〃'For thy heart'；〃 he quoted softly； clasping and hiding the black hilt delicately in his great； gray； hardened blaksmith's hand。 He held the Sword up straight； looking at it almost lovingly。 ''For thy heart； who hast wronged me。'〃
〃Wait；〃 said Mars； staring at him with a suddenly new expression。 〃What Sword is。。？〃
His answer did not e in words。 Vulcan was moving into a strange revolving dance； his whole body turning ponderously； great sandaled feet stamping rock and mud along the wagon trail； flattening earth that was already trodden and beaten and bloody from the fight； squashing the already dying serpents that had once been spears。 The Sword in the Smith's extended arm was glowing now； and it was howling like the bull…roarer of some primitive magician。
Mars； half…dead or not； was suddenly galvanized。 He sprang into motion； fleeing； running away。 Running as only a god can run； Mars went ducking and twisting his way through the remnants of the hillside grove。 He dodged among great splintered treetrunks； and splintering further those trees that got in his way。
Birch saw Vulcan throw the Sword； or rather let it go。 After the Smith released it； the power that propelled it came only from within itself。 The speed of Mars' flight was great； but the Sword was only a white streak through the air。 Virtually instantaneously it followed the curving track of the War…god's flight。
At the last moment； Mars turned to face doom bravely； and somehow he was able to summon yet one more spear into his hand。 But even his magic spear of war availed him nothing against the Sword of Vengeance。 The white streak ended abruptly； with the sound of a sharp impact。
Even with Farslayer embedded in his heart； Mars raised his spear； and took one stumbling step toward the god who had destroyed him。 But then he could only cry a curse； and fall。 He was dead before he struck the earth； and he demolished one more live tree in his falling。 That last tree deflected the Wargod's toppling body； so that he turned before his landing shook the earth； and ended sprawling on his back。 Only the black hilt and a handsbreadth of Farslayer's bright blade protruded from the armored breastplate on his chest。
Chapter 14
At the largest land gate in the walls of