White flame, darting and unearthly! It gripped Drezzar's blade, coiled about it, ripped it from the seaman's hand. It blazed up in blinding fiery light, limning the room in starkly distinct detail. The sword fell uselessly to the floor, a blackened, twisted stump of melted metal.
Drezzar shouted an oath. He stared at the ruined weapon, and his bronzed face paled. Swiftly he whirled and fled through a side door.
The flame had vanished. In the door a man stood—a gross, ugly figure clad in the traditional brown robe of the Druids.
Lycon, skidding to a halt, lowered his sword and whispered, "Dalan!"
Elak got to his feet, rubbing his head ruefully. At sight of the Druid his face changed. Without a word he nodded to Lycon and moved toward the door.
The three went out into the night.
2. Dragon Throne.
Now we are come to our Kingdom,
And the Crown is ours to take—