He whirled on Harth, crying, "Full speed over those mountains! We are
the sole hope of the Klarnva, we in this magniship. Under our feet is
the only power that can bring us to the Darksiders before they merge
with the _mekniks_."
"Are you mad?" whispered Harth, eyes round. "We number a few score on
the ship. Can we stand before the Darksiders in battle?"
"Can't you see? We have to. If we fail, then there will be none to
mourn us, for the Darksiders and the _mekniks_ will sweep over the
cities of the Klarn as a sandstorm sweeps the desert! We can't stop to
reckon consequences. It is all or nothing. We must toss the dice--and
clean our weapons!"
Aevlyn stood by his side, red mouth curving into a tiny smile.
"He asks us to go with him and taste death, Harth," she whispered. "We
have no chance, and yet--and yet, I vote to go with him."
Harth shrugged, "What use for me to speak? If the hereditary princess
of the Moornalian Klarnva says we fight, then we fight."
There were tears in Aevlyn's eyes as she looked at Flane.